FRAGMENTED (part X)
Created | Updated Nov 12, 2003
Episode 10: Necropolis Jones and the Infernal Plot Drift
Now named Robin', the Creator, and Baxter had found their way to the nearest Store of Heroes and Adventurers just off Caliver Street. A short trek which had been difficult for the deity.
Baxter had attempted another run forcing Robin' to use His Creativity again.
Although Citadel had had no rain for the past week, Baxter slipped upon a cobblestone, sending his chest straight down into a small puddle.
One aged, stray dog watched with interest before its weak bladder played up again.
With omnipotent persuasion, Robin' convinced Baxter's yellow streaked lifestyle that it would be better to die in an unknown way than stress over Apocalypse's time of arrival.
That was enough for Baxter. he preferred to be a free-lance worrier.
'You know what?' mused Baxter to the world in general as he strolled down the Store's aisles, stopping to shudder at crossbow ammo situated in "Prod-Use". 'When I get out of thish, I think'll write up the exshperienshe.
'It'll have "Panick!" written on the cover in large, red unfriendly lettersh jusht to mean bushinessh.'
[The logic behind the 'K' is that like 'magic' and 'magick'. Where magic is slight of hand, magicK is slight disintergration of anything but.]
Unheard, Baxter continued mutterings about whether a book beginning with the destruction of the world would sell.
Robin', meanwhile, looked quite happy in his one-sided conversation with the Store's clerk busy watching Baxter with suspicion.
Unbeknowst to the deity, he was talking to one of the best known heroes: Necropolis Jones.
Necropolis Jones was immortal. Quite literally.
Hailing from a small village in the country of Necropolis, the then 22 year-old Jones got a love-bite on the neck from a girl who turned out to have canines. Not that he noticed at the time.
The experience changed Jones [whom his parents named after where he was born only because his mother refused to allow his dad to call him Roger] into a vampyre.
A student [the other living dead], the lifestyles between that and vampyre made almost no difference.
One Lore degree sent Nec, some 618 years later, to a flat in Citadel's "Little Necropolis" district.
From there he would travel the world using his knowledge of peoples and history to discover rare artifacts, then 'excavate' them from tombs, crypts and such, giving his finds to the museum, or keeping his favourites in a cupboard to collect dust.
All his ventures were published bar one. Known as the 'Lost Crusade', Jones didn't tell anyone of it.
The Store of Heroes and Adventurers was owned by him, setting up shop in any city [Citadel had two] he came across, working part-time when not travelling and charged himself minimum wage. Force of habit.
'Are you going to buy that?' Jones shouted across to Baxter, who was weighting a knife in his hand.
'No chanshe! That would mean you intend to ushe it!' Baxter cried, taken aback. 'Would shlow me down.
'Thish ish what I came for.' Baxter picked up a pocket-sized, leather water bottle and made the monetary exchange for two Dels.
In case you're wondering why Necropolis is out during daylight, it just proves that you shouldn't believe everything you hear... there's nothing to stop students getting up in the day.
'What an interesting guy!' remarked Robin' as they exited the SOHAA. 'Did you know he sells something called "mace"? You spray it in the eyes of a potential threat then hit them over the head with a club that has a spiked ball on the end! Amazing!'
'Yeah.' Baxter said with sarcasm. 'Wonderful.'
And thus the two headed for the coach station.
Now named Robin', the Creator, and Baxter had found their way to the nearest Store of Heroes and Adventurers just off Caliver Street. A short trek which had been difficult for the deity.
Baxter had attempted another run forcing Robin' to use His Creativity again.
Although Citadel had had no rain for the past week, Baxter slipped upon a cobblestone, sending his chest straight down into a small puddle.
One aged, stray dog watched with interest before its weak bladder played up again.
With omnipotent persuasion, Robin' convinced Baxter's yellow streaked lifestyle that it would be better to die in an unknown way than stress over Apocalypse's time of arrival.
That was enough for Baxter. he preferred to be a free-lance worrier.
'You know what?' mused Baxter to the world in general as he strolled down the Store's aisles, stopping to shudder at crossbow ammo situated in "Prod-Use". 'When I get out of thish, I think'll write up the exshperienshe.
'It'll have "Panick!" written on the cover in large, red unfriendly lettersh jusht to mean bushinessh.'
[The logic behind the 'K' is that like 'magic' and 'magick'. Where magic is slight of hand, magicK is slight disintergration of anything but.]
Unheard, Baxter continued mutterings about whether a book beginning with the destruction of the world would sell.
Robin', meanwhile, looked quite happy in his one-sided conversation with the Store's clerk busy watching Baxter with suspicion.
Unbeknowst to the deity, he was talking to one of the best known heroes: Necropolis Jones.
Necropolis Jones was immortal. Quite literally.
Hailing from a small village in the country of Necropolis, the then 22 year-old Jones got a love-bite on the neck from a girl who turned out to have canines. Not that he noticed at the time.
The experience changed Jones [whom his parents named after where he was born only because his mother refused to allow his dad to call him Roger] into a vampyre.
A student [the other living dead], the lifestyles between that and vampyre made almost no difference.
One Lore degree sent Nec, some 618 years later, to a flat in Citadel's "Little Necropolis" district.
From there he would travel the world using his knowledge of peoples and history to discover rare artifacts, then 'excavate' them from tombs, crypts and such, giving his finds to the museum, or keeping his favourites in a cupboard to collect dust.
All his ventures were published bar one. Known as the 'Lost Crusade', Jones didn't tell anyone of it.
The Store of Heroes and Adventurers was owned by him, setting up shop in any city [Citadel had two] he came across, working part-time when not travelling and charged himself minimum wage. Force of habit.
'Are you going to buy that?' Jones shouted across to Baxter, who was weighting a knife in his hand.
'No chanshe! That would mean you intend to ushe it!' Baxter cried, taken aback. 'Would shlow me down.
'Thish ish what I came for.' Baxter picked up a pocket-sized, leather water bottle and made the monetary exchange for two Dels.
In case you're wondering why Necropolis is out during daylight, it just proves that you shouldn't believe everything you hear... there's nothing to stop students getting up in the day.
'What an interesting guy!' remarked Robin' as they exited the SOHAA. 'Did you know he sells something called "mace"? You spray it in the eyes of a potential threat then hit them over the head with a club that has a spiked ball on the end! Amazing!'
'Yeah.' Baxter said with sarcasm. 'Wonderful.'
And thus the two headed for the coach station.
