Party Slayer Reynold Nathaniel Knight Copyright 2012 by Reynold Nathaniel Knight Smashwords edition PROLOGUE: TO THE MADNESS It is the finest event of the year: the royal knight ball held in the kingdom of Ragnivan’s regal ballroom. The night is just beginning, and the guests are about to arrive. The one charged with the preparation of the party is, like every year, Order, because she is just such a good event organizer. The radiant maiden, in her custom fitted ivory-colored dress and gloves fixes her white hair for the eightieth time as she stares at the two large, elegantly carved, open doors welcoming the guests inside. The four guards waiting by the door, each one smelling of a different, overpriced cologne, smile at each other juvenilely; they are smiling because it is still ten minutes before anyone is supposed to arrive, and Order is obsessing as if that time were now. Order waits another moment with a patient expression on her lovely, if a bit plain, features and turns to check on a few final matters. “Be ready gentlemen. They will be arriving any moment,” the savioress commands with surprising levels of coolness, putting on the guise as if she is not even slightly nervous, as she waves and steps off. “Absolutely ma'am. We will lay down our lives to ensure this ball will not end up like it did last time,” the commanding guard says with dutiful authority, but with a look on his face like someone is tickling him to death. With her usual flowing calmness Order leaves as the guards behind her snicker and smile stupidly at one another. The Harbinger of Righteousness ascends the right stairwell of the large ballroom. Passing through the “Authorized Personnel Only” door, she stops before her belongings, carefully arranged on a nearby table. The articles include: - A full suit of her “Blindmask” type armor just in case there is another “mysterious” explosion from an “unknown” cause, - Her epic weapon, Monument, carefully wrapped inside her dimensional sheath but still easily accessible, - An old issue of ‘Righteous Partyer’ magazine (the issue talking about how to stop badass high overlords from crashing your royal ball), - A chat stone to communicate with her newly-placed secret guard. The only one of these items particularly useful to Order at this moment is the chat stone, that shining, magical variety of rock that relays and echoes the voice of a speaker to every other stone carved from the same crystalline rock of its kind. The petite heroine picks up the small stone and raises it to her lips. “Is everyone in position?” she says into the rock. Suddenly the rock lights up with chatter. “Yup.” “Aye.” “Yeah I guess…” “AWWW YEAH, LET’S DO THIS!” say the four voices all at the same time. Order takes these responses to mean “yes” and responds in turn. “And will all of your squads be ready?” the well-dressed lady asks the secret guard, each with their own stone. “Yeah.” “They are prepared.” “I think so . . . .” “HELL YEAH, THEY’LL BE READY! THIS IS A NIGHT TO REMEMBA!” the four again respond in their respective manners. “Good. The ball will be starting any minute now, and we can’t have anyone uninvited attending, if you know who I’m referring to,” Order instructs with a serious tone. “Alright.” “It shall be prevented.” “I’ll try . . .” “OHHH BUDDY! IF CHAOS COME ON OVA' HEEA HIS ASS GON’ GET BEAT GOOD!” everyone again responds positively and, for the most part, intelligently. “Okay. I’m counting on you. See you all later,” she speaks for the last time before putting the stone down and returning to the ballroom. She is just in time to see the first guest arrive. Dressed in his finest robes is the great king of Spiralkander, Matthew. This is when the reader might be inclined to ask: “Isn’t this a Royal Knight’s ball? Why is a king here?” The response to that would be: “Kings like this guy are important enough to go wherever they want; the same goes for everyone else who will be attending the ball.” Order descends the steps gracefully with a deceptively reserved smile; concealing her true ecstasy in that the highlight of her year is about to commence. That said, no matter how exciting and action-packed her life actually is, Order has a tendency to be boring. “Good evening, King Matthew,” she says as she walks up to the first arrival, the king of a country allied to Ragnivan, and bows gracefully. Matthew smiles in turn and kisses the lady’s hand. “A pleasure to be here . . . . Hey! Is that food!?” He says like a true gentleman before he dashes off with kingly glee to the buffet. Order stares with a bewildered smile for a moment, and shrugs -- no biggie. The Ball Coordinator smiles as she peers outside and beholds dozens of carriages, steeds, brooms, dimensional portals, staves and more all converging at the grand entrance. A minute passes and there is now a dozen or so people waiting to be greeted by Order. She is delighted. The second one to the door is Justice, a fun-loving (and stupid) knight dressed in his finest tux. He is a very old member of Order’s squad who was recently promoted to the top thirty ranks; he specializes in protection magic (and screwing up). “Eh, hey chief,” he says, with his usual bashful deference toward his superior. Order shakes his hand. “I’m glad you could finally join the rest of us. Welcome to the top thirty,” she offers with a congratulatory smile. This is Justice’s first Royal Knight Ball, as only the thirty highest ranking knights are allowed to attend. This is when the reader might be inclined to ask: “If it is a ‘royal knight’ ball, then shouldn’t all of the royal knights be invited to it?” The response to that would be: “No, because there are way too many to fit in the ballroom, and the more important people would feel crowded then.” The reader would be wise to stop asking so many silly questions, and simply enjoy the story. Justice grins. “Thanks chief! You know after the past few thousand years I’m really glad I’ve finally gotten my own division and everything. It feels like after all of the trials and --” “Another time Justice, I have more guests to greet,” Order interrupts, kindly tapping her inferior aside. “Oh . . . okay. See you later,” Justice says with his usual smirk and neck scratching. Order smiles to herself. Thousands of years and still he hasn’t changed a bit. The next in the line is the *sigh* Duke of Whales. An incredibly large blue whale, dressed in the latest in marine attire, floats into the room with his most ornate pipe in-mouth. “Sir Duke,” “M’lady,” is the sum of the short exchange between the Duke and Order. The Lady of Light sighs to herself; “That guy can be pretty condescending to people who are not whales.” The giant whale floats on over to the best seat in the outer ring of the ballroom, and puffs his pipe with little interest in anything other than being the most substantial guest at the Ball, and clearly expecting to be adored for being a floating blue whale smoking a pipe. The highly competent event coordinator shrugs and looks over to the next guest; this one is certainly a pleasant sight. Grendan, the Arch Mage of the Keruz Magic Academy in Kanavan steps forward. “Evening,” he says in his perpetual tone of soberness. “Good evening,” Order replies as she bows to show respect to the guest. “I suppose you are wondering why I have never attended one of these parties even though I have been invited at least eighteen dozen times,” the magician muses, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Yes . . . I was kind of curious,” the lady responds with an arched brow and a smirk. “I have been very busy over the past few centuries with one thing or another, mostly Chaos-related, you see. You should know as well as I how time-consuming a character he can be when you’re trying to find him,” the Arch Mage sighs as they slowly move to a slightly less crowded area. Order’s smirk turns into a confidant smile, as if she knew some great secret. “So you think Chaos is going to appear tonight and crash the event like he has for the past few years?” she asks with a smile unexpectedly wry for someone with a title like “High Protector of the Realm.” “Well I suppose that’s logical to assume considering he’s been here for the past few years,” the Mage responds with a grave nod. Order grins, and motions a guard to take her place as one of the greeters. “I would not be so sure about that,” the girl, several millennia old, says with a cocky expression. “Really now? For what reason?” “Well I just made quite sure that he could not possibly ruin tonight thanks to a few strategic preparations.” “For instance?” inquires the Mage as he picks up a glass of 2407 dwarf-made chardonnay from one of the wine-bearing waiters. Order gets near the old wizard and points her finger to the upper-east corner of the room, then the upper north, then the upper west, and finally the upper south. In each of the high corners, whether they are sitting quietly on a balcony or are holding themselves to the walls with magic, are two-dozen royal knights. “I assigned four squads, just for the ball,” she replies with a smile. Though the Arch Mage would not know this, being too busy with running the school, one squad of royal knights generally has the fighting potential of a dragon, if not more. “And I assume you are quite confident in their abilities?” the wise Mage asks as he takes a sip from his glass. Order grins. “Most definitely. Not only will this be a good opportunity to relax; it could also be the best chance I’ve had of capturing Chaos in years,” she says proudly. The Mage’s deep onyx eyes engage Order’s own, color-based-upon-mood eyes, and he sighs. “You’re too soft. You could have broken that black shell of his and perhaps even finished him off at least five times over your life. Why don’t you just kill him?” he asks, being the type of guy who would jump at the chance to avenge his grandchildren, whom Chaos killed a good long time ago. Order sighs. “Yeah . . . but I’ve always wondered . . . think about how amazing he could be if we were to persuade him to do good! For every time he outwits or outmatches us, it only piques my curiosity more. He could be a hero among he-” “That will never happen! You are the last person I would expect to be ignorant of that,” the Arch Mage interrupts. Order almost frowns, but still maintains her composure. She must not forget where she is. “Well, I’m --” “Do you have any idea how many people you have dishonored by failing, nay, being without the will, to get retribution?” asks Grendan. “If anyone else was as good at fighting him as you are then he would be dead by now because they would have killed him,” the mage says the moment before he takes a generous gulp of wine. “Yes, yes, but --” “Sometimes I lay awake in my bed at night and ask myself, 'Why the hell was it Order who got so strong? Why couldn’t it have been me?' I’ve tortured myself with that question for so long. But that’s about to change. I’ve been training. Ever since that bastard killed my grandchildren I’ve studied and practiced and studied, and tonight those years and years of training and torment will finally pay off. Watch tonight as I kill him myself, Order. I'm going to be the one that rids our countries of their greatest taint,” Grendan says with a righteousness indignation. There is a short, awkward silence between the two, as Grendan is unsure if he should throw another verbal punch at Order, and Order is unsure whether it would be proper or not to defend herself. Another moment passes, and the Mage turns and walks away with a deep, stretching frown. Order stares at the old man and concludes he can’t handle alcohol very well. However, his words did strike a nerve in Order. Though she may act the part of being the steel-souled soldier in the public eye, that is simply not a realistic characterization of who she is. Order feels a bit like taking a moment aside and maybe shedding a tear or two, but she is not the best at showing her true, deep emotions anymore. Instead she just decides to simply store the memory away. She places it in the little box, under the bench next to the hydrangea bush, that is, the hydrangea bush in the garden of her mind, and locks the box up tightly. Order inhales, exhales, and continues on with her duty as “party coordinator.” She takes a glass of wine herself and watches with a mostly-genuine smile as the various guests come waltzing in with their fancy attire and exotic pets that look like they want to maul the reader’s face off. There is Dr. Shleinbach, a famous scientist that has recently been working on some great new invention called a “firearm” or something. Sounds kind of silly really; who needs their arm on fire anyway? There is royal knight Harmony, and -- Dangit! -- her dress looks incredible! It even has its own miniature galaxy revolving around the waist! Who the heck did she get to design it for her?! Order looks at her own, very beautiful dress, and makes a point in her mind that she should not be envious of girls who have “loose” personalities – that being thought in the politest way possible toward her comrade. Next to walk in is the famous hero Hellfighter; wearing his usual trench coat and goatee. Order puffs her cheeks in childish frustration seeing that he did not even change from his usual clothes to attend the fancy event, but considering Hellfighter is ludicrously strong and is practically a celebrity, he can probably slide by with being a total slob at events in which everyone else must look their best. Order smiles at the doctor and welcomes him, smirks aggressively at Harmony as she passes by, and smirks sheepishly at Hellfighter as he passes; all of this while curtsying like a lady to each one. A few minutes pass and now the large, circular room is filled with famous heroes, knights, kings, queens, and other important folk all enjoying the party. All except the Arch Mage Grendan and the Duke of Whales, of course, as they are not really enjoying the party. Order crosses her arms and looks at the party objectively. Everything is going quite well. King Matthew is still over at the buffet stuffing himself. Harmony is not stealing the spotlight with her deviant antics. And the pairing and dancing will be beginning soon. Order smiles as she takes another sip from her glass. Even though she is probably not going to be crowned the Ball Queen tonight, at least Chaos won’t be ruining the party and killing anyone in his typical highly-creative manners. Order stretches in mental congratulation of her excellent work, and was just about to go back to the buffet when she spots one last person entering. A knight, not in the royal order, a bit taller than the average man and wearing the flashiest suit of armor she has ever seen. The beautiful and shining plate armor is made of some incredible alloy that she has never seen before. It is modeled perfectly after Chaos’ terrifying body, with the sharp, angular smile engraved on the helmet and everything; even Chaos’ large circular eyes are represented with the helmet’s glassed double-visor. The Masteress is suspicious at first, but then assumes if it were really Chaos his incredible amounts of magical energy would have given him away at once; it must not be him. That, and if it were Chaos he would have of course come out from the ceiling above, as Chaos always, always, always, enters from the ceiling. At least that is the opinion of overlord Torment, author of “The Chaos Survival Guide: 1001 Tips on How to Not Get Torn to Pieces by That Jerk Everyone Knows.” Regardless of the knight's identity, the lady capable of slaying armies has a job to do. Order steps up and takes the man’s invitation personally. “Good evening-” Order says as she curtsies, “Of whom might I be making the acquaintance, good sir?” “Well a knight accepting a party invitation, of course. Who might you be?” the man says from inside his incredible head-turning suit of war. “Well I’m the current leader of the Old Royal Knights. I have been for at least a thousand years now. They call me Order,” she says, surprised that someone in the western kingdoms actually does not know her name. “Oh yeahhhh . . . I recall now. Sorry, I’ve been kinda forgetful as of late, you see,” the knight apologizes as he bows in turn to his conversational partner. Order grins cutely. “It is quite alright sir. I hope you enjoy your time.” “Thank you kind lady, and please allow me to compliment you that you look simply cabbaging tonight,” the knight says in his polite, manly voice. Order almost spits out her wine. “Cabbaging?” she says with an incredulous grin. No, it can't be Chaos. Even though Chaos would be the only person who could possibly mistake such common words with this abandon, his magic signature is simply not here. “Yes quite. Do you find that funny?” the knight asks in a tone of complete sincerity. Order looks at him a moment, and concludes that he really probably meant to say “ravishing” in which case it was quite a nice thing to say to a lady. “Oh . . . No, I’m sorry. That really is quite sweet of you to say,” she responds as she blushes just a bit from the compliment. This knight’s voice is deep and thoughtful. “Why certainly my dear. Might I inquire whether you have a dance partner tonight?” he asks as he extends his hand bluntly. Order blushes sincerely this time, not expecting such forwardness, and steps back a bit. “Oh, thank you, but I’m taken,” she lies, so she will not have to dance with some mysterious stranger she might actually find attractive in some way, which would merely result in more emotional pain just as it has every other time she has allowed herself to become romantic. “Ahh, what a shame. Well, it has been a pleasure making your acquaintance. Stay solid, okay?” the probably dashing knight says, wearing armor representing the super destroyer who is feared by all. The knight then bows once more to the lady, and goes off somewhere else to enjoy himself. Order has forgotten to say goodbye, herself, but she figures she will get another chance later on in the night. To stay accountable to her lie Order takes Justice for her partner for the night, estimating him to be the most unattractively acting guy she knows at the party, next to the Duke of Whales, and she could not possibly bring herself to tolerate the Duke. Justice, of course, feels honored and could not refuse his “chief.” Throughout the evening, the mysterious knight actually proves to be a serious jerk. He accidentally tips the punch bowl and blames it on someone else. He childishly fondles three ladies using nearby men as scapegoats for the sake of starting fights. He even had the nerve to break dance during the waltzing! Two hours pass, and no still Chaos. All of the people who just attended to be seen have left, that is with the exception of the Duke, who actually has a bone to pick with Chaos himself. That said, the Ball awards have been distributed, and the party is now winding down. The night has now dissolved into dainty chit-chat and drinking more than one should. Order, of course, as a paragon of righteousness, stops at her fifth glass, observing the fact that any more than that and she would begin to find the concept of strip poker considerable under peer pressure, even entertaining. Most of Order’s time now is spent with the occasional dance, chess, and tea drinking with a circle of her better friends. The Holy Guardian looks down to the large clock built into the floor, and sees that it is about ten -- two more hours until the ball is officially over. She feels strange. Chaos is supposed to have arrived by now . . . is he hiding? Order was about ready to check on the knight squads who have been secretly positioned up around the ceiling for hours now, when she spots the tall knight confiding lies to one of the princesses about the color pattern of the Duke of Whale’s undergarments. Order frowns and is just about to go for the checkmate in her game with Justice when the Duke of Whales floats up to the knight and starts an argument. “Wot ho sir! How dare you spread such scandalous nonsense, tarnishing my good name?!” the Duke exclaims as a powerful burst of smoke puffs upward out of his blow hole in anger. The Knight turns to the Duke in a way Order finds all too familiar. That indignantly poised physical stance right before he talks to a foe . . . it is exactly like . . . Chaos! But that is impossible! His magic signature is nowhere to be felt! “Oh so you are saying you are not partial to wearing polka dot d-strings?” the knight responds with a kind of joking charisma. “Of course not! And the term you mean to say is G-string!” “Oh my, I had no idea you were such a G-string professional,” the knight says using really bad logic that just happens to work, as the younger people around the two snicker under their breaths. Order gets up from her chair and goes up the steps into the “Authorized Personnel Only” room. The girls around the knight giggle cruelly as the Duke frowns angrily with his huge whale mouth. “Why, Why! Why, just who are you sir? I have a right mind to record your name and add it to my List of Grand Vengeance!” the whale booms so strongly that everyone in the room suddenly subconsciously compares whales to very annoying, loud things. The knight stares the well dressed marine animal in the face. There is a pause as everyone at the party focuses on the two figures and their heated argument. “My name, good sir, is Sir Duke Winnerbro of Awesometington,” the knight responds. Suddenly the room is in an uproar; everyone knows who it is. There is only one who would have a fake name so self-aggrandizing. Order, face red with alcoholic effect, bursts out of the door on the balcony as she watches the two dozen royal knights surround the man. “Knights! GO!” she yells as she pulls Monument from its sheath. Order does not know how Chaos suppressed his magical energy so well that she did not even notice after such close contact, but he did, and now it’s time to fight. She can certainly feel something now; it must be Chaos. Old Royal Knight Risk skillfully lands the first strike on the armored man, easily tearing through the armor plating and revealing the one inside. It’s not Chaos. “WHOA WHOA, WHOA, EASY! I DIDN’T MEAN TO START A FIGHT OR ANYTHING!” exclaims Sir Duke Winnerbro of Awesometington. Turns out it really was just an average jerk-type from a faraway country or dimension after all. Everyone stares at the man a moment, and Order wipes the sweat from her brow. But he is here, Chaos is absolutely nearby. Order feels that chill down her spine, that unique, alerting vibration that she has become so-well attuned to. “Search the place! He's here somewhere!” Order commands the other knights. Following her order, all of the knights go searching in one place or another for Chaos while the other guests busy themselves with nervous conversation. “Chaos is here? Shouldn’t we leave?” says one queen. “I don’t know; he could be waiting outside for us,” says the president of a well known netherworld. Everyone is quite paranoid with the exception of Arch Mage Grendan who is sipping his wine, patiently waiting for his chance. Order wonders to herself where Chaos would be lurking before he strikes and makes sure every place in and around the ballroom is checked thoroughly. The Iron Lady stamps her foot on the ground as she receives the report that he is nowhere to be found; the expectation is killing her. She was about to go and drink her tenth glass when she notices Harmony looking at her kind of strangely. “Harmony! That expression! It is exactly how Chaos would look after several hours of partying in a slutty fantastic dress! Knights! Apprehend him!” Order points out hostilely. By this time it is quite clear to see that Order has very much lost her cool and has now been reduced to random accusations under the influence of the wine. Order has failed to realize that Harmony has been drinking all night as well, and according to popular knowledge, Chaos invariably prefers tea. A matter of fact, his abstinence from the harder pleasures of like would actually make him a pretty good role model for kids if it weren’t for the fact that he brutally murders every third person he meets. The lowers obey their superior and grasp Harmony’s charming, graceful, and rather tall frame. “W-what?! I'm not! How would you even know?!” Harmony says with a shocked tone. Order steps up. “We’ll see about that. Even though you may look like Harmony, it’s clearly a trick!” she accuses promptly. “No! Nonono! I … I can prove it!” Harmony says as she flings the blond bangs from her face nervously. Order steps up to Harmony and makes daring eye-contact. “How?” she asks as she poises Monument’s glowing blade to strike. “Well … transformation magic usually only works as an illusion, right? So if you were to say, try dispelling it, that could easily --” “Dispaeux!” Justice casts without another word. Order smacks her own face angrily knowing that if it is actually Harmony, the only illusion she would be using would be the one of her wearing clothes. That said, she is the type that really enjoys “going magic commando” per-se. Harmony feigns surprise as her dress disappears. Any guy knight holding her at this moment quickly releases her and jolts back in a few different kind of surprises. Order looks over to Justice, who is now looking like a deer in head-lights. “JUSTICE!” Order addresses with a angered yell. Up above, on the roof, having arrived very late on purpose, is the pitch-black figure of a badass killing machine overlord, looming over and looking down through the glass roof to view the unfolding events. A sharp, angular smile forms on the figure’s face, showing the glowing white inner workings of his body. He is glad he came late. Order assumed that year after year, his arrival soon after the beginning of the party would be inevitable, and now she has lowered herself to petty accusations and accidental nudity. The Killer Shadow, Chaos, looks at all of the stupid, important people, all completely distracted by the “spectacle” of a nude royal knight striking a sexy pose and the royal knight leader reprimanding an inferior with a fury not even he would possess. Chaos smirks, and decides his plan was a success. He is very forgetful, but he is usually quite smart with these kinds of things. “And if I EVER, EVER see you doing something so out of line as to CAST THE EXACT SPELL A POTENTIAL ENEM --” “Looks like this party has already been crashed,” a deep, manly voice emanates from somewhere above the ballroom. The voice has such a carrying presence, the guests not only hear him speak, they feel him speak. Everyone stops what they were doing, and look up in panic; not unlike ants, staring up at an imminent boot preparing to crush them all. Gleaming white eyes peer from the opening in the glass roof, complete with synonymous grinning jaws. Arch Mage Grendan quickly prepares his staff for flight. “So sorry for coming late buddies. I was busy TPing Order’s house, you see,” Chaos says with a powerful grin. Order’s eye twitches. “I would of course love to come down and play “insane murderer” with you all, but I actually have somewhere else I need to be. Until later tonight then!” The Overlord says as he pulls away from the opening in the roof, opens a dimensional rift with his magic and leaps in before anyone could get near. Everyone is very quiet . . . . Order slaps herself again, and promises to never expect Chaos to follow through with anything ever again. This is, without a doubt, one of most embarrassing moments in her life; even worse than that one time she . . . never mind. Due to Chaos’ parting comment, people are hinting that he will return later tonight and crash the party for real. That said, all of the royal knights, a few kings, queens, heroes, other folks, and Arch Mage Grendan all decide to wait for the moment and all attack him when he appears; at least, this is the plan. Normally this would more-or-less ruin the ball, but when Chaos became the subject of conversation, that was surprisingly not the case. The rest of the party was still actually quite lovely. After Order was done chastening Justice, most of the people who were afraid of Chaos’ return had left, and Harmony was given proper attire that would not disappear through magical means, everyone decided to tell their best story about Chaos, most of them being true. Justice, feeling obligated to additional service after his recent incompetence, opts to go first. Everyone is quite alright with that idea. PART ONE: JUSTICE'S STORY Justice, sitting down in one of the chairs specially made for people who tell stories, nervously takes a sip of tea consciously eying Order's facial expressions for warning signs of the next time she lashes out at him. “*Ehem.* Alright! My story about Chaos happened about six, maybe seven-hundred years ago, back when I was in the top 40,000, so it's been a pretty long ti--” “Speaking about your rank reminds me of something else I'd like to talk to you about later,” Order interrupts coldly as she sips her green tea; she still has not quite calmed down and is a bit irritable. Justice swallows his own earl grey nervously. He enjoyed the honor of being in the top thirty while it lasted. “Eh . . .yeah . . . so basically it was when my small-squad leader, Performance, may he rest in peace, got a mission for us to go and break up a necromancy ring. It kinda went like this: so I was in my barracks just eating my morning biscuit with magic rainbow jam as usual, thinking about what I would do when I became the greatest hero of all time, and then Performance burst in! 'Justice! Rehcyt! We got a big one!' he yelled to the two of us. At first I was like 'Wha?' but then after he explained the mission to me and my other squad mate Rehcyt I was like 'Whoa!' So then we got our stuff and headed through the space gate to Wihelmish, and it was so cold!” “Obviously,” the Duke of Whales interrupts. Justice frowns a moment at having been interrupted with such a belittling comment, and then continues his first-person narration: “Yeah well, we were walking through the snow and stuff in the city, and then I saw a sign! It said 'Hats: two for the price of one!' and I was all like, 'Hey Chief! Can I go get me some hats?' But he was all like, 'NO, KEEP YOUR HEAD IN THE GAME!' and made us go all the way to the Necromancer's secret hideout! It was SOOOOOOOO COLD AND WINDY. I really wished right then I had a blanket or something, 'cuz that would've been awesome. But, yeah, then we got to the base, ya' know, in the run-down part of the kingdom. It was really creepy and everything, but Performance was like, 'JUSTICE! CAST BARQUOS!' and he was really mean and stuff. So I was like 'Okay Chief! Whatever you say because I definitely want nothing else more than your happiness!' And then I casted Barquos Ve Varquon and blew the door open – I really am not sure why he always wanted me to blow up doors, I think he thought it was cool or something. So then we jumped in the place and were all like, 'ROYAL KNIGHTS YOU'RE IN VIOLATION OF-- blah blah blah,' you guys know. The necromancers of course tried sending their undead minions to come and get us, but I was all like 'ASTRADRASTICA YEAHHHH!' and I blew 'em all up. Then we beat-down all of the necromancers and arrested them. It was actually pretty cool. One thing I did: basically one of them tried to run away and he was all like, 'Ohhh noooo!' But I was like, 'NOT TODAY SUCKA!' And did like a backflip-thingie and kicked him in the face! It was awesome! So then we were about to tow 'em along when, suddenly, through the blown-open doorway, there was Chaos! And he had his Kingdom Slayer! “Well what else would he use?” the jerk whale again interrupts in the story. “Actually from what I've seen Chaos tends to use a large arsenal of weaponry. I've seen him tear trees out of the ground and use them as weapons a few--” “Hey! Lemme finish!” Justice interrupts royal knight Faith, who was only rebutting the Duke of Whales' comment. “Right, so basically he was all like, 'Good evening. I think your friends have something I want,' is what he said with that creepy smile of his. So then Performance was like 'HOLY CRAP! HOLY CRAP!' And Rehcyt was like, 'OH NO, DON'T HURT ME!' But I was all like, “You want 'em? Come on and get 'em,' I felt really cool! But then Chaos laughed and he was all like, 'Okay.' And then he was all like, *swish!* and then I flew across the room with the other knights. I was like, 'WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!' But Performance got his cool real quick and started casting a spell; I forget . . . ya' know . . . the one that goes, *pew pew pew!* “Don't be ridiculous,” The Duke of Whales yet again interrupts, “How could we possibly identify a spell solely on a phonet--” “Well actually, for many schools of magic, onomatopes of the sound made by the spell are remarkably accur--” “Please don't interrupt me!” Justice again interrupts Faith who once again was merely rebutting the Duke's comment. *Sigh* Okay so then he did that, and Chaos did some other spell that was like, 'KABOOSH!' and then . . . that's when Performance died. So then Rehcyt was all sad and panicky now. He was like, 'OH NO ,OH NO, WHAT DO WE DO!?' But then I was like, 'Play dead!' So we did and then Chaos was all like, 'Now where is the Monarch Note?' he said, but the necromancers were all like, 'Shut up Chaos. We don't like you!' and that made Chaos really happy for some reason. Then basically he beat up the mages and tore one of their arms off to use it as a bat to hit the others. After that they finally were like, 'OKAY, OKAY ALREADY. IT'S OVER THERE!' Then Chaos was like 'Thanks.' Then he got the thingy and then cut the head off of one of 'em, and then he laughed again and left. It was pretty crazy. So there; that's what happened. “Is there a moral to this story?” Grendan comments dryly as he flips through his spell book, making sure everything is in order. Justice thinks to himself a moment. “Oh sure! The moral is to not make Chaos angry or else he'll tear off one of your arms and then hit you with it!” Justice responds with a smirk, staying surprisingly positive after telling such a violent story. “So who wants to go next?” the royal knight asks as he takes a sip of his tea. The Duke of Whales, who seems particularly opinionated this night, quickly speaks up. “I believe I will tell my whale of a tale next,” the whale gentleman says with a marinesque expression. Order feels like a little bit of her soul has just died, hearing the Duke use the term “my whale of a tale.” PART TWO: THE DUKE OF WHALES' STORY Righto then, so this all happened during my university days when I was a strapping young lad whale. I was taking a vacation to a fine dimension numbered 93892 which is solely a place for monetary spending. The dimension was called Galacta-Mall, I believe. It was quite a crowded place with people and beings from all sorts of dimensions. There are hundreds of miles of stores across hundreds of floors; why one could spend their entire life looking at things they don't really want to buy! “Sounds like a paradise,” Harmony interrupts as she thinks about a never ending shopping spree. The Duke stares down at the “improper lady” with great discontent, and continues. “As I was saying before such a rude interruption, I was visiting there for a college report I was authoring upon the subject of “The Stupidity and Baseness of the Average Modern Consumer Hopelessly Integrated in Popular Culture.” It was going quite well and I was getting quite a lot of information when I spotted a peculiar figure . . . even more peculiar than the average denizen you would find walking around a pan-dimensional mall. This gentleman was pitch-black, and not one's average definition of pitch-black. This man, Chaos, literally consumed light; his body reflected nothing back. Twas like someone had cut a hole in the universe, and he was that emptiness. His body's shape was angular and sharp, as if he was from a race of sword-people, and his eyes and the innards of his mouth were as shining bright white as the rest of his body was black. Perhaps the most striking feature that caught my superior whale eye, however, was the horrific contrast between the man's sharp, light absorbing, grinning jaws, and the glowing white innards. The contrast caused a very noticeable and even directly threatening outline. Something abut his very appearance seemed to say, 'I kill people for recreation and entertainment, good sir.' As he was busy sitting down and reading a book. My incredible whale perception noted with perfect accuracy the title of the book being: “Super-Scandalous Vacation Frenzy Spies Part 3: Sexy Jungle Fever.” “You're not serious! That's my favorite series!” Harmony interrupts with an interested smirk. The whale again frowns at the lady, clears his whale throat, and continues. Yes . . . quite. As I was elucidating, Chaos was reading this book and was busy eating the arm of some poor dragon that I suspect did nothing much at all to deserve such a cruel punishment as Chaos had inflicted on him. Being the brave and capable young blue I was back in those days, I endeavored to approach the brute and strike up a conversation, but as I was nearing him, a large assortment of creatures, including one armless dragon, dashed up into the food court where the two of us were presently. The brutish overlord looked up from his book and said to his foes, 'Hello gentlemen, I assume you want this arm back? You are free to it after I am done with it.' Of course this statement angered the large group of holy beings, evil beings, dragonkin, orcs, undead, pan-dimensional folk, humans and a few other varieties who then came upon him with the most hateful of intentions. It was then I backed up a bit, not because I was afraid, mind you, but because in most whale martial-arts the beginning stance for combat usually begins with floating back a few paces and raising one's tail to enter striking poise. Of course, I hadn't enough time before Chaos had cast some spell that struck me as at least a level six. Now you may all be wondering why I did not catch the name of the spell; that is because Chaos leaped up and smashed down on the head of one of his foes right as he had cast it. This unpleasant smashing caused a crunching sound that I would very much prefer not to recall as it was a very unrefined noise. Thereupon, the crowd around him quickly exploded into a volcanic fury of ungentlemanliness. There were regrettably no survivors. Oh, well, there was the exception of me, of course, because I skillfully deflected the magical flames with my perfect use of the Beluga-fu scroll technique, spermwhale shuriuken, its use protecting my dashing body from the fire. He then proceeded to pile up the corpses next to a new food-court table, the previous being obliterated in the blast, and went back to reading his book while casually pecking at the well-cooked bodies. As the just and righteous marine animal I was, and am, I quickly decided for a strategic retreat in order to regain my strength. That shuriuken technique took quite a lot out of me, you see, so I feel it was quite a sensible decision. However when I returned only a few minutes later he was gone off to do whatever he does, and that is my story. “Thanks a ton! But my story has sex in it!” Harmony comments with a smirk. Half of the people seem interested as the Duke scoffs at the impropriety of such a preposterous reason to be interested in a story. “Do go next,” Grendan nudges calculatingly; interested to hear if the story is actually true or not. Harmony smirks ambitiously and fires a glance at Order, who really does not enjoy Harmony's attempts at “showing off.” PART THREE: HARMONY'S STORY “Okay now . . . I was walking through the forest one day approaching the place of an important assignment. I was alone, because the rest of my squad was . . . on vacation. 'Oh my! I'm certainly going to be late if I take this long, enjoying life for all of its pure and lovely pleasures!' is what I said as I frolicked through the woods innocently. The day was getting late and--” “Why didn't you just use a space gate?” Order asks, confused as to Harmony's testimony. Order knows that as . . . 'casual' a person as Harmony can be off duty, she is very serious, methodical, and efficient when it comes to missions. Harmony looks about nervously. “Well that's because it was in an underdeveloped dimension . . . . You know, not many space gates, and it was also through the wilderness to my destination, so I was walking. I don't have enough mana to fly there you know,” she says with a smirk. Order raises a brow, and nods. “Alright then. Please continue,” the Holy Maiden says to the one who enjoys being seen au naturale. “Okay, so then the day was getting late and the sun was setting. The hues and shades of the forest began to blush and dance about in dew from the recent rain. My nostrils were assaulted with the infatuating scents of pine and whetted soil; it was positively beautiful. I had my spell book close at hand when I felt a presence. It was so manly and overwhelming . . . as if the presence itself wanted to pull off your pants and-- “Please keep to the facts,” Order interrupts with a warning glare. Harmony sighs. Aight, aight, so then Chaos appeared from the trees. He was terrifying as he displayed his sharp black jaws at me; looking like some strange abstract painting all strung together and tied into the form of a humanoid . . . except for Chaos' large, long, black-- “The facts please,” Order reiterates with a threatening stare. “–his large, long, black antennae-type things that might be horns instead; I don't know, but they do look pretty stylish.” “I thought they were his ears,” Justice interrupts blankly. “I'm pretty sure those are horns that he can just move around,” King Matthew comments. “He clearly uses them to detect different frequencies and energies; they are antennae,” Grendan says as he chimes in with his own opinion. Harmony stares at the men, who eventually get the message and clear their throats awkwardly in apology for interrupting her. “So yeah, something about him seemed so alluring,, as if being in the strong, inescapable arms of such a dangerous creature could provide a secret comfort. Perhaps he is lonely, I pondered as his skin sparkled in the sunlight.” A few of Harmony's fellow knights roll their eyes sarcastically, hearing the phrase 'sparkled in the sunlight' come out of her mouth. “He walked up to me in the quiet forest. 'I'm going to take you right here,' he said as he licked his huge jaws. 'Oh no sir! You simply can't! You and I are not meant to be! For you are an enemy of--' I could say no more, for his firm, passionate lips were already--” “Chaos doesn't have lips, Harmony,” Order states. Harmony pauses for a moment. “Well, I was just about to explain that he used some kind of powerful magic to contort the form of his mouth and . . . lower body . . . so that he could finally live his long dream of being one with someone!” “Um . . . wow . . .” one of the princesses still at the ball says. Just about everyone leans in with shameful interest. Order frowns. “Then his firm, passionate lips were already against mine. I tried to get away, but his manly, sensual arms were too much for me as they ranged across my entire being. As we kissed he slowly coaxed me to the ground, and then I knew I wanted this. After he got my armor and under-armor off he completely consumed me like the beast he is. I felt, pushing into my thighs, his huge, passionate, manl--” “I think I've had just about enough of your story, Harmony,” Order interrupts, successfully preventing this book from becoming rated OLMAPWR (Ol-Ma-Power,) that being “Only Lonely Middle-Aged People Would Read.” A few of the people who were really getting into the story were about to complain when Grendan speaks up. “Perhaps you should just give us the summary of what happened,” he says as he sips more wine. It is his 27th glass this evening, and he’s still running sober. Harmony sighs. “Yeah okay. So basically we had hot and steamy sex and then he took me to a far away country where we got married and had children and lived a life of perfect solitude until he had to go to war for his country , during which time I met another man and had an affair with him, and when Chaos came back as a handicapped veteran he found out the truth and then committed suicide,” she explains, unexcited. “Thank you Harmony, that was a very touching story. Perhaps the next person would be inclined to tell a tale that actually happened, perchance?” Grendan comments in a rather sarcastic manner. Harmony decides to be quiet for awhile. The next person to accept the storyteller position, but the first person who actually raises their hand politely, is King Matthew. “I'll go,” he says. PART FOUR: KING MATTHEW'S STORY “In the beautiful desert kingdom of Spiralkander I was. It was night, and the Auroa Aridalis was in full fluctuation in the sky; it is quite an ethereal sight if any of you are interested in visiting someday. I was watching over the kingdom with my eyes and thanked Universe for the fantastic creation it has set together with its hands. It was then a servant of mine found me at the top of the highest point in the castle. The boy's name was Maiesh, a very small fellow really -- reminded me of my second son when he was a child. He told me that dinner had been prepared, and because of this, I was very excited, as usual. I went to the banquet hall where my lovely queen and many higher subjects were sitting in wait for me. The dish was a seven course feast as usual: Appetizer 1: Malcroix fruit and vegetable salad Appatizer 2: Thrice-breaded whale-cheese sti--” “I say good sir! Milking a whale is only the greatest offense to whale-kind next to calling them something other than a whale! And murder!” The Duke of Whales interrupts, feeling such an action is an abomination to all whale-kind. The wizened and competitive-speed-eating king makes a contested expression. “I'm sorry, if you are so angered by it I suppose I could make an arrangement or two; whale cheese does not taste particularly good in the first--” “PREPOSTEROUS SIR! Whale cheese is without a doubt the finest and most delicious cheese one could ever hope to savor! The taste! The texture! All elements of the greatest cheeses are combined and perfected in this one variety of dairy delicacy!” the Duke quickly defends, apparently unaware of his incongruity. Everyone raises an eyebrow at the whale. “So would that mean you've eaten whale cheese before, Sir Duke?” Princess Andacroste questions as she straightens her short, black hair. The Duke puffs up, and is very quiet. He has talked himself into a corner. “Please continue,” the whale says as he nervously spews smoke from his pipe. “Gladly,” The Hungry King says with smile. Main course 1: Slithy toaves lettled with a glip of bandersnatch (A very rare dish!) Main course 2: Hyperion trout basted with some super parmigiano Main course 3: Baby seal a la club Pallet cleanser: Quasi-flan type-4258 mixed with Quasi-flan type-334 Dessert: a cookie Now, honestly, I stopped thinking at this point for I was too busy enjoying the food. It was around the fourth course when I heard a huge crash somewhere in the nearby courts. I excused myself from the table and retrieved my trusty lance, Spikan. I then took a vantage point at the top of the castle to view the commotion. I had little trouble spotting Chaos down there, those glowing eyes and the inside of his mouth were both clearly visible like lamps that only wanted to be seen, but spreading their light to nothing else except themselves. Like . . . lights that existed only to light themselves. Becoming aware of my foe's identity, I cast my most common and one of my most capable spells, the level 3 'Rapid Inducer.' It is a spell of my own design that increases the speed of one's thrust-strikes by focusing the mana into the second school of alteration, retrieving it as--” “I believe most of us are well informed regarding how that kind of magic works, Matthew. Thank you,” Grendan interrupts, his words dripping with his serious magic-superiority complex. He sips some Rooibos tea mixed with vodka for a change. Matthew shrugs. “Alright. So I cast my spell and leapt down on Chaos as I activated my epic lance's enchantment ability, a specialized magic sealed into the shaft of the weapon to increase the amount of force my--” “Ehem,” Grendan again intrudes. Matthew sighs. “It made me even faster at stabbing. So I dropped to Chaos and was about to engage him for the good and prosperity of the people when I noticed he was actually fighting something. It was a dark figure, engulfed in shadow magic. I have never found out for sure who it was, but I feel it was actually you, Faith. Do you recall this fight at all?” Royal Knight Faith, rank #13 strokes his cleanly-shaven and quite handsome chin. “Actually yes . . . that was the story I was going to tell when it came my turn,” the man says with a cool smirk as he fiddles around with a flame of light-magic. Matthew nods. “Glad to know there is one less mystery in my mind now,” the dark-skinned King says with a positive smile. I only had a few seconds before Chaos executed an incredibly fast move along with a spell. I think it was called “Moto Rai” or--” “It was Matto Tay,” Faith interrupted with a knowing frown. “Ahh yes, thank you. Chaos used Matto Tay as he very quickly short-teleported behind Faith and impaled him. He then threw Faith inside the portal which jutted him upward out of the corresponding portal, and released the charged spell. When Chaos cast it, the wind itself seemed to take a serious hatred to Faith, and flung him far, far away; I would estimate at least a hundred miles. “Wow! How did you live through it, Faith?” One of the queens asks the dashing knight of light and shadow magic. Faith smirks charismatically. “Well, the shadow form I use when I fight is meant to adapt to how Chaos' body works. When I was impaled, the shadow magic fluctuating around me simply made a divide in my body as large as the wound Chaos caused, so when the sword was no longer inside me the shadow simply refolded my wound, good as new.” “Impressive,” Grendan comments. Of all of the magics he has dabbled in, he knows the least about light and shadow magic. “Thanks. As for the fall I simply receded the shadow armor and charged it as I was soaring through the air. The moment before I hit the ground I just pushed it all out in one big burst and it protected me from the impact,” Faith explains as he winks like a celebrity to some of the onlooking ladies. He thinks he's sooooo cool. Matthew continues: “So then I rushed up to Chaos and he did the most incredible back-flip-slash-counter-to-riposte I've ever see- “What's that?” One of the listening nobles asks, who has never lifted a finger violently in his entire life. Matthew rubs his chin a moment in thought. “Well, it is when someone flips backwards in air to get behind a foe who is charging them, then slashing at their initial thrust to counter their strike, and that executed correctly it leaves the foe open for a riposte, which usually ends the fight,” Matthew explains with a courteous smile. “Did this one end the fight?” The noble continues. Matthew stretches his neck around a bit. “Yes.” I was too busy spinning in mid-air to block Chaos from impaling me into the sand and stepping on my face. Suddenly with that admittance, the majority of the crowd draws back in a gasp of shock. “How did you survive?!” “Why is your face not messed up?” “I thought people almost killed by Chaos have their butt explode and eyes catch fire!” are a few of the outbursts of surprise. Matthew leans back a bit and spots someone in the crowd. “Angel?” he addresses. “Yes?” an exotic, feminine tone returns. “Why don't you tell this part?” “But I'm in the middle of my fried-” “Please dear?” “Well . . . alright.” the lady says as she puts her food aside and walks over. The woman, with a lovely milk-chocolate quality to her skin tone, is the Queen of Spiralkander and King Matthew's wife, Andamina. The lady, dressed in a humble, but very pretty tribally patterned dress and with beautifully braided black hair, steps up to her hubby, kisses him gently on the cheek, and takes the story-teller seat in his place. Of course, Matthew takes this chance to go and eat some more, as he already knows how this ends. PART FIVE: QUEEN ANDAMINA'S STORY “Well then, I was at this time gearing up to go help my dashing warrior by activating the castle's mech-tower defenses. The controls are, of course, in our bedroom, so I rushed to get there.” Adell Maste, a famous magic-engineer attending the party, tilts his head to the side. The slender man raises his hand. “Yes?” Andamina responds to Adell. “If I may ask: I'm interested to know why you put your mech-tower controls in your bedroom instead of some more practical place like the tower control room?” he asks with an inquisitive stare. Andamina smiles, like a mother to an infant. “Well where else would you put the controls, my boy? Would it really make sense for the royalty to do all of this running before activating the tower?” she says with an interested smirk. A few of the people from the country Spiralkander laugh, having never heard of anyone other than nobility driving a magical castle. No one else however, laughs even a smidgen. They are well aware of the highly specialized Enchanted Mobile Tower Operation Core, that being E.M.T.O.C. for short, and all of the rigorous mental training its members must undergo in order to even make a mech-tower stand up and walk. “Pardon my interruption then,” Adell says with a small bow, understanding now that it is a cultural thing. Andamina smiles, and nods. “Well then, I activated the defense-console, and aimed the guns at Chaos, who quickly took notice and dashed up to the embassy. Then he just stood there, dancing . . . .” “Whoa!” “So cool!” “What a badass!” “I wish I could meet him!” A few of the younger people exclaim. Order sighs and sips more of her tea. *Ahem*, yes, that was quite daring of him. So, I trained the cannons on him, but I knew I could not shoot because if I hit him, I would also hit our kingdom's embassy, a priceless cultural landmark. So my sweetie little honey-king leapt up and engaged Chaos again on the roof of the embassy. A few people snicker hearing the phrase “honey-king” exit the queen of Spiralkander's lips. The fighting between the two of them went on for awhile, the two of them fighting even faster than my lovey-dovey huggle bear can eat, which is pretty fast mind you. But, like most fights with Chaos, I hear, he came up on top in the end, and was just about to do something so evil and nasty that I dare not even mention it to you all. I knew now was the time for action.. Embassy or not, I would not allow my darling king to die, so I fired. “You fired . . . On the embassy?” Grendan asks with a bewildered gaze. “Why yes, I did. It seemed like the sensible thing to do at the time.” Andamina says with a smile. Grendan goes back to his drink without another word. “Anyway I fired, close enough at Chaos to damage him, but far away enough from King Groovy to--” “King Groovy?” A princess asks. “King Matthew. That is just a name I call him,” Andamina responds with a smile. As I was saying, Matthew was safe, and the embassy was, regrettably, obliterated, but, I was able to hit Chaos directly! Most of the crowd, people who know Chaos is amazing but do not know to what magnitude, make convoluted faces, in thought. “If Chaos was hit by a Mecha-Tower shell, shouldn't he be dead by now?” they question among themselves. “So, just when the dust settled from the impact, I find that Chaos caught the shell and then--” “HOLY SNAPCAKES!!” “WOWOWOWOWOOW!” “GOOD UNIVERSE HOW?!” “HE'S SO MANLY AND COOL!” “WHAT A BOSS!” The royal teenagers exclaim again in fanatic celebration of Chaos' awesomeness. “Shut your mouths,” Grendan says, seeming to command more power in his calm, calculating voice than the four younger ones combined. Prince Gregory the Great was just about to talk back to the Archmage, when Grendan speaks up again. “Andamina.” He addresses with his deep, bitter voice. “Yes Arm. Nias?” (She answers, “Arm.” it being the usual prefix for “Arch Mage.”) “I presume you are about done with your story, would anyone object to allowing me to tell mine next? I think these children could do well with understanding just what Chaos is.” “Well, I see no reason why not. Chaos just threw the shell back, tore off the castle's right arm, and ran off after eating our food. That is pretty much the rest,” she finishes, not jeopardizing her graceful composure for even a second during her retelling of the story. No one really wants to get in a fight with Nais, seeing it was quite late in the night, or early in the morning depending on your preference of terms, over who would tell the next story. The Arch Mage clears his throat to tell the story, but does not get up from his seat to tell the story; seeing no real reason to get up and walk a dozen feet just to sit somewhere else. PART SIX: ARCH MAGE GRENDAN'S STORY “Right, now stay quiet while I tell my story. I remember it all so well. It was a rainy day in Kanavan -- very quiet. I was just finishing up studying one magic school and was about to move on to the next when my granddaughter comes into the room. 'Grands?' she said with her lovely, sleek smile. “'Yes little Hay?' I said back, that being her nick-name from 'Hathrenese.' “'t's that time . . .' she told me with an awkward tone, knowing well that my work was more important than a silly children's story. It seemed to me that she felt so abashed in telling me this because she was afraid that, even though it was time for me to tell her and the other grandchildren a story, I would be too busy and would decide not to. So, every late day as the other late days before it, I turned to her and said the same thing: “It's that time you say? And what made you think that today might be the time I would not tell you a story? I said with a grandfather-like composure. Little Hay muttered, and after a bit of stumbling with her words, finally said, 'I don't know.' So I got up, patted her on the head, and told her to go ahead of me. *YAWN*, Justice lets out. Everyone looks over at the incompetent knight with expressions of punishing intent. “Sorry . . . “ he says, looking into his drink abashedly. “As I was saying, I packed up the books and was about to return them to the library below, when I spotted a silhouette in the window. I was shocked to find that this particular shadow had eyes, and a wide, terrifying smile. By this point, everyone had become very quiet. Even The Duke of Whales' constant puffing of his pipe came to a quiet halt. Grendan continued: “'Hello there, magic man,' he greeted me, with his stare like a furnace of insanity. Children, bei- “We're not children,” one of the less respectful princes speaks up, being about 16. Grendan locks his gaze upon the boy. The young royalty's blue, childish eyes make contact with those of The Arch Mage; those eyes of a dead, calculating onyx color. The boy slowly turns his head down, and remains quiet. “Anyway, children, being seen by Chaos is like being spotted by a Grim Reaper that escaped from a mental prison. He'll divide you in half upon the slightest whim and not feel a twinge of remorse. For someone so powerful, he is absolutely the worst person to also be insane. I reached for my staff, but he had cast a lateral gravity spell, called 'gravtiel haloken,' and drawn my staff into his hands. Then he said, 'It is usually polite, pondduct to greet someone who has just hailed you. But of course I would not expect someone like you to know that, Magic Man,' he said, his hateful body contorted into a mockery of a friendly posture. I could tell his memory was not all with him, as he had mistaken the word 'conduct' with 'pond-duct.' I calmly asked him what he wanted, and he told me that he was looking for a book that was more-than-likely in the library. I told him in a less-than-kind way to leave, and he just darted off with my staff into the other parts of the academy saying he would, because of my lack of cooperation, check each room. I dashed from my place, grabbing the closest magical-amplification device I could find, and went into the next room, the same room in which my grandchildren were waiting for me. It just so happened that Chaos was looking for the ancient book of elven magic, 'Algandar's Tome', and of the 28,000,000 Universe-damn books in the academy, that was one of the books that little Hay had picked out for me to read that night. She was always stubborn, but I never thought she would die for a book. By the time I got there, all but one my grandchildren had been slain, and Chaos was looming over her, my little Ov', about to finish her too. That evil bastard was still smiling despite the acts he had just committed Hay' would not give up the book, so he killed her, and then the others, brave little children, came up to her defense. I lost all but one of my grand children that day.. Ov'laiee was spared that day only because Chaos was distracted by me. I said many words to him that day as he slowly strolled out of the front doors, magicians and knights crowding around to get their shot at killing him, but at that specific time, Chaos was more lucid in his killing arts than he is usually; he is a wild card like that. He was able to dispatch or kill each and every challenger as he casually walked thorough those halls. I can't remember the conversation very well. I was, obviously, still in shock. It's been many years from that day, and I still have not been able to avenge little Hay, John, Ov', and Lou for what happened to them. But tonight, when Chaos returns, I'll give him back all the hate that has brewed within me during these intervening years, and ensure justice is properly served. A princess raises her hand, and Grendan again strikes with his gaze. 'What happened to Ov'laiee?' she asks, afraid of the answer, but too curious to not question. “She disappeared that night. I don't know what happened to her.”' “Oh,” the princess concludes, a bit dumbfounded. The Arm sighs. Grendan has finished, and everyone is very quiet. A moment of sympathetic understanding for his loss is felt throughout the ballroom by everyone else who has lost someone to Chaos. However, not everyone can relate, especially if the “one” happens to be the Duke of Whales. “Hoho, I do say sir! You really should have given that ruffian what he wanted! He would not have searched out and killed your children for the book then!” the whale says bluntly as he again commences puffing his pipe industriously. “How dare you!” Grendan yells at the Duke as he picks up his staff. A few of the knights rush over to grasp the Mage and keep him from making the Duke into a brand new variety of whale dish. Grendan has always wondered how whale-sushi would taste. It was at this moment that the Duke of Whales was politely asked to leave the party on account of being an insensitive dukehole. However, the Duke of Whales being the dukiest of dukes, politely declines and thinks instead it is time for another one of his stories. “I believe instead of me leaving, and thus ruining the party for the commoner folk, I being the only reason they came mind you, I should tell another story,” He says, clearly being entitled to everything. Grendan, having left to the balcony to cool down, leaves everyone else, who do not particularly care one way or another. After a long pause, Order looks to the Duke and smiles the best she can. “Alright Sir Duke, you may have a second turn,” she says. PART SEVEN: THE DUKE OF WHALES' . . . SECOND STORY “Well, this fine story took place also around my university days . . . some of the finest days of my life I do say . . . . It was during holiday . . . that being spring break in commoner-folk terms. I was at the beach, displaying my fine abdominal equipment to all of the lady whales, when I spotted an ad for a surfing contest. Of course, whales being natural surfers, I applied immediately. One could say I was allured to participate because of the grand prize being one crate of exotic and rare teas for every year the winner had been alive, but that would be sheer poppycockery; I was in it purely for the sport. So, I applied, and was given the number #10, which was honestly quite offensive considering I am a whale, and whales are always #1 in everything. However, as a mature and forgiving blue, I let this major offense slide. I was in the middle of waxing my board, to which I had endearingly given the name Excalibur, *hohohoho!* Excalibur! Quite the original name for a surf-board, yes?” Most everyone awkwardly nodded. “The Duke continues, Yes, yes, I thought so too when I named it that. So, I was just in the middle of waxing it, when what else should happen but a trans-dimensional portal opens up right in front of my superior whale eyes! Out from the portal dropped none other than that ruffian, Chaos. He also had plans to enter the surfing competition and take my delicious prize! And so the contest commenced.” “Chaos can shred?” King Matthew asks with a ruffled brow. “Yes you glutinous pig, Chaos can indeed 'shred' as you call it,” the duke returns like a total dukebag. “As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted. The contest began on the sandy beaches of Dimension #90,932, which is a dimension comprised of the largest shore one could imagine! The first few contestants wiped out pathetically, except for some man named 'Time' or some other dumb name like that; he did moderately well. Then it came down to the last two contestants, Chaos and myself. Of course, if I had been in prime shape I would have beaten him easily, but the sun was in my eyes, and I had a little tummy ache, and my eye was rather itchy, and it was soooo hot out there that day. Additionally, I was with sick . . . with cancer . . . whale cancer, which is 100 times worse than regular cancer. Whales, though superior in 99% of things, take as long to recover as anyone. I, of course, gave Chaos a run for his money, but after a good seven seconds out on the waves, I wiped out with grace. It was Chaos' turn after mine, and everyone was watching him carefully. I admit, if anything, his reverse 36,000 was quite impressive when he shot himself with his board up into the sky about one thousand feet, but I could have done better. The judges were making a big deal about Chaos and that Time gentlemen. They were saying that surfing had never seen such an incredible day. It just so happened that in the end, Time won because of his quintuple back-flip slow-motion trick that the judges seemed to enjoy so much. Time however apparently prefers coffee, so he took the trophy and gave Chaos the grand prize, which the company administering the prize was very sad about indeed. They went bankrupt that day, having to give Chaos . . . Hmm . . .” “Does anyone know how old Chaos was 42 years ago?” the Duke asks his listeners. All heads turn to Order, knowing her to be the only one present who is comparable in age to Chaos. Herself, being very skilled at magic has prolonged her life to the ripe old age of ten-thousand something and still looks like she is in her early twenties. “Ten-thousand something, I don't know for sure,” she says, remembering well the day the two of them met so long ago. There is an outburst of awe among the listeners at Order's and Chaos' great age. “Ahh, thank you Order. Now then, the company, having to give Chaos over 10,000 crates of exotic and rare tea, went bankrupt that day. Chaos thanked Time, and left with his 500-or-so tons of tea. That is my fine story, ladies and gentlemen. Who would like to go next?” The Duke finishes his story with a large puff on his pipe, filling a good part of the room with smoke. “Oh! Oh, oh, oh! Me,me,me,me,me! I got a good one!” Says Sir Winnerbro of Awesomington, in his Chaos-like suit of armor. The Duke moves aside for the man, who eagerly sits and leans into the chair like a boss. Everyone hopes it is a good story. PART EIGHT: SIR WINNERBRO OF AWESOMINGTON'S STORY “Right, so my story actually took place this night. I wasn't sure what you guys would think about it, but since everyone is telling their stories about him, and because this is the only one I have, I might as well tell it.. So now, I am a knight of the fair land of Awesomington. It's pretty awesome by the way. A matter of fact, Awesomington is the omniverse capital of drinking brewskies, juicing up pads, and paryin' hard. I was just chillin' it out by my pool of pure money, playin' some pool b-ball like usual. I was totally waiting for a mission from Mega-Ruler Swag-King Albert Q Dog when some guy totally punches his way through the fabric of time and space! It was pretty whack yo, but as a knight of Awesomington, it was my knightly duty to not crap my pants in the pool, cuz that would be pretty whack. Chaos came out, and grinned at me like some kind of boss. He was all like: “Yo G, I got a sweet ticket to a whack party, shit's gonna be so juiced up. You want in?” “Does not sound like something Chaos would say . . . ” Grendan says as he returns from the balcony and gets back in his seat, eying the Duke of Whales aggressively. “Yeah well, I don't remember all of it perfectly, I'm not some genius, you dig?” “I dig,” Grendan says back, opening up a magic tome to read up on some magic spells he deemed especially useful for combating Chaos. “So I was like “Cha!” and he gave me the invitation.” “Wait . . . ” says Order, interrupting the knight yet again. “Yeah babe?” he responds. “Eh . . . please, don't call me 'babe,' and are you saying Chaos had a ticket to the ball?” “Yeah babe,” The knight again repeats. Order begins biting her thumb. “Who could he have taken it from?” she wonders. “So yeah, I totally took that ticket, but Chaos was all like: 'yo dwag, you gotta do somethin' for me too bro,' and since he was clearly a fellow bro, I had to oblige. You know, following the bro-code.” “'Sure bro,' I said, and he was all like.” “You gotta wear dis phat suit of armor to the ball,and do all these things,'” he said. He also told me to totally cash up the party; which I did.” “So this was his plan all along,” Grendan interrupts. “Not good,” King Matthew comments. “Very. He could be invading a kingdom as we speak,” a queen speaks up. As commotion rises throughout the crowd, Order very calmly raises a different chat stone she had hidden in her dress and speaks into it. “Check with each outpost, and make sure everything is okay,” she says. The stone light up. The strong, irritable voice of a woman is heard. “Why? Somethin' happen?” “Not sure; I need you to find out.” “Whatever,” the lady finishes. Order waits a few seconds, serenely watching the people argue about what to do. “Nothing,” the woman with the other chat stone responds. “Thank you,” Order replies. “Whatever,” the other lady repeats. Order rests her teacup aside and gets the attention of everyone. “Pardon, ladies and gentlemen. I have just checked with the royal knight outposts, no village or city is under attack,” Order reveals with a perfectly gathered expression, a big change from earlier in the evening. The Duke of Whales, who was about to get into a bout of finsticuffs with Grendan, settles down with the rest. “Quite strange,” a king comments. “Most verily,” a knight adds. “Then what did he intend . . . ?” Grendan asks himself quietly. Sir Winnerbro was just about to speak up and finish his story, when someone recalls something. “Hmm, this reminds me of the time Chaos tricked me,” the famous hero, Hell Master, says. A large part of the group look very interested. “Oh! Tell us!” “Do please.” “Ya serusly,” A chorus of guests speak out. “Sure thing,” Hell Master says as he gets up from his chair. Sir Winnerbro decides not to fight even though he has not finished his story and, so, lets the famous hero take the seat and tell his tale. PART NINE: HELL MASTER'S STORY “Well now gen'lemen 'n little missies, this story happened maybe, oh, three-so years ago when I was in the middle of finding the ancient dwarvish treasure of the legendary dwarvish dwarf.” “Isn't that a bit redundant?” a princess speaks up. “Hush missy, I don't choose the names of priceless artifacts.” “Sorry . . .” “Anyhoo, I w's jus' aboutta lay my hands on the treasure, when I foun' Chaos of all people sleeping on the alter, with the artifact clearly in his villainous grip. So, I crept up real slow-like, and reached 'round my back for my trusty bag o' sand. Guessin' the weight of the treasure, I poured out just enough sand from my bag to make a switch that Chaos wouldn’t notice. So, very carefully, I nudged the sack into Chaos' arms, and took my treasure, but as I was 'trieven' the treasure, I noticed that it wasn't the treasure at all, it w's jus' a great big piec'a choc'late. Then Chaos opened his eyes. 'Looks like you've fallen right into my trap Hell Masta,' he said as he petted his evil feline cohort. 'You've been a thorn in my side for long enough.' I smiled, 'cuz he just set me up. “'Oh yeah?' I said, 'Well this thorn’s 'bout to KICK-YOUR-ASS!'” “Did Chaos really say that?” Justice asks, never expecting him to be a villainous stereotype. Hell Master scratches his head. “Well, maybe it wasn't exactly like that, but it was tootin' close . . . . So then Chaos pressed a switch, and the ruins suddenly turned into his secret underground lair! I threw a punch, and knocked his teeth out before he got to his death ray. My sexy side-kick/romantic interest swooned as I punched that fiend at least 20 more times. She said, 'OH HELL MASTA! YOU SUCH A DANGEROUS STUD!' Then I was all like, 'Yeah baby, you know I got it.' But then Chaos pressed another switch, and it opened up a doorway, pouring out dozens of his lackeys, each one duel-wielding sharks!” “Whoa!” “Awesome!” “I doubt it,” a few of the voices spoke up. “Yeah, then I punched 'em all good, and did a back-flip-slash-counta-to-riposte-cutting-my-first-initial-in-their-face, you know, normal hero stuff, but then the sharks grew legs, and then were duel-wielding other sharks! “Madness!” “Incredible!” “ . . . Stupid,” the same voices comment again. “Then I used my special attack! I yelled out the words with manly manliness! 'DEATH DOOM BLACK DARKNESS HUNTER ASSASSIN KILLER DESTROYER!' And I unleashed awesome unimaginable power upon Chaos! Then he exploded! And I h'd won the battle.” Everyone is quiet while H.M. nods his head victoriously. Grendan throws his hand to his forehead, and sighs,“Hell Master.” “Yup?” “How could Chaos be alive now if you killed him in your story?” “Oh! . . . uh . . . BUT THEN! CHAOS SUDDENLY CAME BACK TO LIFE! UH, BUT THIS TIME HE HAD KNIVES FOR ARMS! “Hell Master,” Grendan again speaks. Hell Master looks over to the old magician indignantly. “Yeah?” “Chaos' arms are not knives,” he says with a displeased frown. Hell Master mumbles under his breath. “BUT THEN! HIS KNIFE-ARMS TRANSFORMED INTO NORMAL CHAOS ARMS! AND ANYTHING ELSE THAT GRENDAN WOULD ARGUE AGAINST INSTANTLY BECAME IRRELEVANT IN EVERY WAY, SHAPE, AND FORM!” 'I'll get you next time!' Chaos yelled as he flew up in his airship shaped like an arm holding a knife. Then me, my heroine, and our laughable third-world-country kid that always yells out obvious traps went off to our favorite pizza parlor for some well-deserved R&R.” “Well that was just lovely Hell Master.” “A beautiful story.” “I can't believe you're not dead yet for some reason,” were a few of the comments at his ending. “Thanks guys, it's all in a day's work,” Hell Master says with a proud grin. “Who want's to go next?” Grendan asks dully, opening yet another bottle of wine. “I'm sure Order would have a good story; she's met Chaos thousands of times!” Adell says. “A capital idea.” “Might be worth hearing.” “If Chaos is in it, anything would be good,” someone adds. Order places her teacup to the side. In truth, she has been thinking of what story to tell since Justice had begun. She remembers so many different stories and tales about Chaos, and so many good ones, that she has been having trouble choosing. Order gestures positively to the others, letting them know she did indeed hear them, and proceeds to bite her thumb in thought, such being a habit of hers. Order thinks. She thinks back to the times she barely escaped death due to a lucky dodge, a teammate, a display of incredible skill, or just cowardice. All of them are interesting enough, and though she is vain in many things, she is not much so when it comes to telling ego-boosting stories. She could tell them the story of the time she first met him, but that brings back too many bad memories. The ability to forget is her most valued trait now. “Alright, I'll tell guys the story of when I had a good long talk with Chaos,” Order says as she gets up from her chair and approaches the storyteller's seat. Hell Master, very proud with his pathetic mess of a fabricated tale, gives her the seat with gentlemanly poise. PART TEN: ORDER'S STORY Order clears her throat. “This happened one day about six-thousand years ago when I still had no high ranking in the knights, but I was still considered the go-to person when it came to Chaos. I was just resting in my quarters as usual, reading up on one of my now very old magazines, when my chat-stone lit up; it was my commanding officer.” “'Hey Ranalie,' he began in his usual disgruntled tone.” “'Yes sir?' I responded”. “Apparently King wants to talk to you again.” “King? What for?” “Hell if I know, but he wants you right away.” “Well alright. I'll get on my way in a minute or two.” “'Good,' he said. I thought he was finished, but right after I got up from my bed I heard him ring me up again.” “'Anything else sir?' I questioned, kind of surprised that he did not sum up his thoughts as well as he usually does.” “'Yeah . . . . Have you and King . . . been doing . . . naked stuff?' he said after a long pause.” Suddenly the room erupts into a moronic stupor of cheering, gasps, and snide comments the moment Order finishes her sentence. Order waits patiently until the chatter dies down. “Are you all done?” she asks. A few of the guests nod, or otherwise say yes in an awkward manner. They are all fired up to comment and make fun of the story, but apparently Order enjoys being taken seriously. “Thank you,” the knight says before she begins again. “I said no, obviously, because it was the truth. He apologized quickly, and then ended the conversation as if it were strictly business. I shrugged, like I did so much back then, and went to King in Reino, the old kingdom that split up after his death into the kingdoms we know today. He smiled very kindly to me and greeted me with a hug. He had a thing for hugging.” “'I'm glad to see you,' he said in his usual way.” “'Did you need me sir?' I asked.” “Yes, actually it is about Chaos.” “Really?” “Yes, seeing that you have a good deal of experience in dealing with him, I thought you would be the best for this task.” “What is this task?” “Chaos is in the southwestern part of the kingdoms, in the forests.” “Oh . . . where the fairy folk live?” “Yes, another one of his supposed rampages; scouts have confirmed he is heading toward the fairy-kingdom's secret gate.” “Got it.” “Thank you Order.” “'Anything to get a shot at him,' I said as I turned to leave. While I was walking out he addressed me once more.“ “'Order,' he asked. I turned around politely.” “Yes?” “'You must live for protecting, not for vengeance,' he said. I was a little surprised he would say something like that; I don't even really . . . hate Chaos or anything . . . seemed just a bit strange that he would tell me.” I nodded, got to the nearest space gate, and traveled to the fairy kingdom. The moment I arrived the kingdom was already mobilizing. The dwarves were sharpening their axes. The gnomes were preparing their magic and their knives. The elves were preparing their bows. The fairies were preparing whatever they could find. Everyone was going one place or another getting into their assigned positions for repelling Chaos' attack. After about half a minute of looking around, I was greeted by Oberon and his wife Titania. “'Good evening, my dearie,' greeted Oberon with a face mixed with fear and joy. His wife kind of sneered, I think she was jealous that Oberon always pays so much attention to ladies other than herself. Well, not that it matters anymore. Anyway she bowed her head and I bowed mine.” “'I hear Chaos is approaching the secret gate.' I said. Oberon motioned his head over to the gate casually, as if he were not a king. I had already seen it. At least a hundred fairy-folk were--” *CRASH* Order stops her narrative as a gauntlet of armor falls on the floor near the storytelling group from above. Everyone looks up. Grendan quickly grasps his staff. All talking stops. Another piece of armor falls , then another, and then another. They just keep falling out of the roof skylight. Half a minute passes as the group watches as the shambles of armor accumulates, and then it stops. Pieces amounting to four suits of armor have fallen from the now opened roof. Short gasps and heightened breath come from the crowd all around. Order grasps the hilt of her blade Monument. Suddenly, accompanied by a chorus of screams, falls a corpse. The majority of the group has difficulty watching the mangled and bloodied body fall with a splat onto the marble floor, so they look away. Order and Grendan are among the few that watch the other three corpses fall from the skylight and down onto the floor. About twenty seconds of complete disbelief hold the crowd in a grip of fear, and then they slowly, one by one, approach the bodies. “By the king! The guard captains!” Justice exclaims as he turns over the bodies and identifies them. Order looms over the bodies, and looks upward; the group follows along. Chaos is not there, but they all know he is lurking nearby. “This is insane. Somebody contact someone!” one of the kings says as he panics like a sissy. Several people pull out chat-stones and do what they can to communicate with an outside source, however there is not a single answer. “My thingie doesn't work!” “Nobody's picking up!” “IT'S A TRAP!” exclaim several of the guests in mostly non-silly manners. Grendan nods his head thoughtfully as he grasps his staff with two hands. “It seems that Chaos has set up a magic disruption field,” he says. The moment Grendan makes that logical observation, many of the guests scream and cry as if they had just met an angry giant super-bear in the wilderness. “WHAT DO WE DO?” “OH UNIVERSE! WE'RE SCREWED!” and other childish exclamations are heard as the general population dash about the room, grabbing their things to leave. Order watches the insanity ensue around her for just a second to see if they will calm down, and then speaks up. “Ladies and gentl--” “OH MY DWARFGOD, HOW WILL WE SURVIVE!?” “I'M STILL A VIRGIN! I CAN'T DIE!” “Ladies and gent--” “I COULD FIX THAT!” “WOW REALLY!?” “YEAH HOW LONG DO YOU THINK WE HAVE?” “ABOUT 20 SECONDS BEFORE CHAOS COMES DOWN TO MURDER US ALL!” “Ladies and gentlem--” “OKAY LONG ENOUGH! DOWN WITH THOSE PANTS!” “AS YOU WISH! <3” “OKAY SO HOW DO WE EVEN--” “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” Order screams over the crowd. Her voice, at a loud decibel, is quite capable at gaining attention. The group calms down enough to listen, and a certain prince who will remain unnamed, pulls his pants back up. Order sighs. “Thank you. Leaving will not increase your chances of survival. We're all without magic, and because of that Chaos, with his inhuman strength and speed, has the upper hand. So even if we attempt to run, it would be futile,” she explains, having more Chaos-related experience than anyone in the ballroom. “How do you know that?! If we all ran at the same time, only a few of us would die in terrible agony!” protests someone who is dreadfully uneducated. “Chaos is much faster than anyone here, if we all scattered to safety I can guarantee you many, many less people would get out alive than you would expect. It seems that he has been here the entire time, just setting up this magic seal,” Order says as she searches over the darker parts of the large room carefully. Grendan crosses his old, muscular arms. “I must say I'm impressed. He can be surprisingly lucid at times on the off-chance that he remembers more than a little bit of magic,” he says, tapping his foot in nervous hatred. Though it is news to most, Order and Grendan are among the few that have realized that Chaos is incredibly, incredibly forgetful about things, namely magic. Order is also quite surprised that Chaos could pull off something this smart. Temporarily sealing the magic of an entire group of people is prodigious at least, and she cannot even begin to imagine how much mana he used for something like this. Order taps her fingers against her wrist, and comes to the conclusion that this is him playing around. If he were serious, at least half of the people sitting with her this very moment, would not be, and would not have heads. “Seeing as we can't do anything else, I'll continue with my story,” Order says as she takes a surprisingly casual sip from her tea cup, masking well her immense stress toward the situation. Everyone looks at her as if she were crazy, with the exception of Grendan who agrees and Justice who thinks Order is only the coolest thing since underwear. There is a bit of back-and-forth arguing from several different groups, each one about as confused as the next, until the silence between their complaints, tuning out the chirping of the night birds, is overshadowed by the immense fear of the Overlord who could be lurking behind any corner. The group settles down properly now, and realizes that Order really had the best idea, considering that there really is nothing else to do other than drink tea and talk about things until the greatest swordsman alive, Chaos, shows himself. Order takes a breath, and continues. “So, they were all gathering around the space gate, drawing their bows and such, but Chaos would not enter through a space gate, he never does.” “'Oberon, we don't know where he'll strike first. You should spread everyone out so you can cover a wider area.' I said with all the due respect that a fairy king deserves. Titania nodded.” “'That sounds like a sound suggestion my fine dear. What say you?' she questioned her love with a smile. Oberon hummed a moment, and stroked his luminescent chin in thought. “'Naw, we'll see 'im,' disputed The Fairy King with a casually dismissive wave of his hand.” “No, in all due respect sir, I don't remember a single time I've spotted him first before he began a rampage. Please take my advice.” “Hey, who's the fairy king here?” “. . . You?” “So obviously I would know how to fight Chaos better than a human. I'm sorry m'dear, but that is just how the metaphorical crumpet crumbles.” “'. . . Sir, that doesn't make any sense. I've fought against him countless times. He never enters through space gates. They're too public for him!' I explained. I usually don't care when people take me down a few notches because of my stature, gender, or race, but when people are going to die, I don't back down. Oberon shrugged.” “'Hey, don't sweat it. This place is the most fortified fairy stronghold ever! There is noooo way that he could get past all of our magic signature detectors,' he said with a really confidant grin.” “'Magic signature detectors? You mean eyes of Rondi?' I asked.” “'What's an eye of Rondi?' a princess asks, politely raising her hand as she interrupts the story.” “'Ah! Well it is a super lame magic detection system made by some old mage guy that I probably killed,' comes a voice from above. Everyone looks up in panic toward the opened skylight; Chaos' voice is coming from some concealed position right above them. Apparently, he has been listening to them talk. Grendan scoffs as the gasps of the party-goers die down.” “'Chaos, you up there?' he asks as he clenches his fist angrily around his staff; unable to use magic.” “Yup,” the disembodied voice of the murderer overlord responds. “You bastard! The second I can use my magic again . . . I'll make you pay for your crimes,” he says, eyes burning with a hate unseen in a man his age. Much of the group is heartened by Grendan's aggressive words, talking as if he is even half a match for Chaos. Their newly found confidence is instantly shattered when they hear an uproar of strong laughter from above. “You? I think not. You roba-- . . . probably couldn't even make a bedridden child pay for disturbing the peace with his sickly moans.” “Quiet! Mark my words you demon of a thing, you will--” “Oh my heart, it burns so much! I think I am having a heart attack!” Chaos interrupts with a joking tone, childishly mocking Grendan's age. Though Chaos is at least three times as old as Grendan, he is still as fit he's ever been. That aside, many of the younger people find this comment very funny. When it comes down to it, Grendan truly is just a really old guy when he cannot use magic. “Ugh! Damn yo--” “Oh a stroke!” “Shut u--” “AN ANNURISM!” Chaos continues. Many people join in on the snickering and quiet laughter. Grendan huffs as he bends his staff in anger as best he can. “Now then, I did not mean to interrupt. I was actually quite excited to hear about how I outwitted that evil fairy king and saved the princess,” Chaos says from above, a smirk on his terrible jaws. Everyone looks over to Order; this really has turned out quite strangely. “Well, if everyone wants to hear mo--” “No! . . . let him tell it,” Grendan interrupts with a cruel grin, well aware of Chaos' forgetful nature. “What a wonderful idea!” “Capital I do say, capital!” “I used to be good at telling stories, but then I took an arrow to the knee,” a few of the voices say in mostly on-topic manners. Order tilts her head a bit. She has never had a chance to hear Chaos tell a story, but that is only because he usually starts killing people first. Honestly, Order is quite surprised how excited the guests, particularly the royalty, seem toward the idea of the Destroyer of Countries telling them all a story, especially after he had just killed several of her knights - several of her friends. Order thinks for a moment, and feels a cold, slow drop of sympathy in her heart. Perhaps it is the alcohol that is providing this strange clarity, but Order is feeling awfully unsure about her stance towards this evil, cruel creature right now. “Well, what d'ya think Chaos?” Order asks as she entwines her hands together pensively. There is a long silence from above, and then the overlord makes his decision. “I suppose . . . I could . . . . Should I just start back from roughly the same place?” the deep, thoughtful voice asks from above. He is forgetting why he has done all of this in the first place. “Oh yes!” “I love it!” “Sounds like a good idea,” a few of the guests respond, most of them secretly terrified, while a few are excited beyond measure. “Well, alrighty then:” the Dark King begins. PART ELEVEN: CHAOS' STORY (PART ONE) “Well . . . let me think . . . I guess this was like . . . five hundred years ago? . . . . No, wait . . . no I forget. Oh well . . . now then . . . the . . . storyyyyyyyy . . . . So I woke up one day hugging my favorite mutilated corpse. He was so silly the way he died! He was all like: “OH NO, CHAOS, PLEASE DON'T BEJANGLE ME!” “And I was all like, 'Ha! Stupid human! What does bejangle even mean!?' so then I killed him.” “He then went, 'EAHOEAHOHOWHAOHOWWWWWHEEEE!' and fell on the floor with a really, really funny look on his obnoxious fat face. So I named him Bejangles the awkward minstrel. That said, he is not very important to the story . . . that is if I recall . . . so I will tell no more of him! I shoved him aside, and got up to make breakfast. So the--” “Wow! You eat breakfast too?!” a stupid princess asks. The other guests look at her in horror; she has just interrupted the #1 wanted criminal in the omniverse, killer of over 2 billion life-forms. “Well well well, looks like someone has eaten a bowl of 'zero respect' flakes for breakfast this morning. You know, I have heard having too little respect for people when they are talking develops a disease called 'unpleasantness.' Do you know what the best cure for unpleasantness is, my dear?” Chaos asks. The princess, realizing her error in interrupting the Killer Shadow, widens her eyes in fear. “. . . What?” “Oh, it is quite simple really! You simply split open the stomach of the person who is unpleasant, throw them on the ground and laugh at them as you watch them try to keep their organs from spilling out of their torso, and then, after biting off their hands and asking them 'where did your hands go?!' over and over, you pour salt on their wounds and in their eyes; and then plant an angry colony of bees inside their kidneys. Afterwords you throw them out the window of your overlord tower so that they can have a moment of thought before their untimely, but entirely necessary, death. Effective sounding, yes?” Chaos explains with a dire grin on his angular jaws which no one can currently see, as he is still up through the skylight above. The little princess feels a long chill run up her spine. “. . . Yes,” she says blankly. The group hears another deep, bone-chilling laugh from the hidden Chaos. “Then tell me, dear: would you like to continue interrupting me to the point in which you become unpleasant?” the gentleman overlord asks. “Nope, please go right on ahead!” she responds with an amiable smile, having been quite swayed by his words. “Lovely, now as I was saying . . .” The breakfast was delicious, and I decided to play myself at chess, I lost. Suddenly, the great king of the bunny gamblers appeared before me in all of his furry brilliance! “CHAOS!” he addressed me. As a natural gentleman to guests whom are not picking a fight with me, I bowed. “Yes?” I returned with perfect poise. “YOU MUST DESTROY THE FAIRY KINGDOM JERKS! THEY HAVE RUINED OUR FORESTS WITH THEIR STUPID FLUTE MUSIC AND HIPPYISH WAYS,” “But dear bunny gambler, sometimes hippies have the right ideas. Tea is actually delicious!” “SILENCE! WE WILL NOT HEAR OF YOUR IMPUDENCE. THEY MUST ALL DIE, AND YOU WILL BE REWARDED NO TEA UNTIL YOU DO!” the cruel, cruel bunny said with an authoritative whisker twitch. I was given no choice. I punched the rabbit lord in his stupid face, and then his legs exploded. I ate him from lunch, and then I thought I might as well go and kill the people of the fairy kingdom anyway; you know, because they really are pretty annoying and all. So I tore a portal to just outside of the fairy kingdom stronghold and snuck about to take them by surprise. Apparently my magic signature was detected a bit early this time, so they were already preparing for me. I saw, a few miles ahead, Oberon had made the stupid mistake of gathering all of his troops in a singular position, really too funny. As I advanced, Order came into my view. They talked a bit. She was undoubtedly warning him about his bad strategy, and he undoubtedly did not take it. Oberon is, if not more of an idiot than his wife; neither can agree on anything, and both are quite self-centered. I crept forward as usual, taking the perfect route past all of the magical detectors, and jiffied my way up to Oberon's throne. He was too busy arguing strategy with Order, so Titania, who was bored and decided to take her own throne, was quite unguarded. I smiled at the thought of tasting fairy again after many years, and crept behind her chair of office. Being the kind of fine gentleman that can stare through solid objects, I waited for the opportune time until both Order and Oberon were looking away from the direction of my prey and myself, and I reached around. I would have thought, being as old as she was, she would have been able to detect me nearby like Oberon or Order would, but I had overestimated her. Using my hands, I slit her throat with ease and silently pulled her behind the throne. To be quite honest, I consider myself above cannibalism, as it is quite impolite, but sometimes it is just too funny to pass up. I tore her up a bit, took off her head, and stuck in my mouth. The taste of blood is nice, but certainly no comparison to a fine cup of tea. I then removed her arms as ammunition for my next round of overlordly domination. “A real overlord wouldn't cower around like an opportunistic prick,” Grendan interrupts bitterly. Everyone turns to Grendan. “Really now?” Chaos questions, his ominous voice emanating from above like some kind of ghost. “Yes: you are a squealing coward who could not take anyone in a real fight,” the arch mage adds, a sentence or two away from signing his death warrant. The group engages in a terrified silence. Chaos laughs from above. “Would you like me to come down from my nice cold spot and fight you?” Chaos asks from above. Grendan scowls, but is silent. “As I thought. I am the overlord after all. Listen well, Grendy: I do not have to play fair like you, I just have to be better than you, which I am. So stay quiet or I will make you go change your old-person diapers,” Chaos threatens lightly. Grendan snorts out hot air as a few of the younger guests snicker at the thought. “Now then . . . ” I spied for the perfect time to begin, and aimed one of Titania's arms at Oberon. Once he was turned away, I threw it at the back of his head. It hit perfectly thanks to my awesome skill, and he obviously freaked out. If I recall, it went something like: “HOLY SHAKESPERIAN! AN ARM!?” he panicked as Order drew out that stupid cheap blade called Monument. “It's Chaos! Additionally I have the breasts of an eight year old!” Order said as she readied herself for a fight. Chaos, saying this as bluntly as he did, caused another wave of giggles and snickers from among the younger, and less mature of the audience; Harmony in particular was pleased by this comment. “Chaos,” Order interrupts, drop of sweat moving down her face. “Yes?” the overlord responds. “I didn't say that,” she says with concise composure, doing her best not to seem stressed. Chaos chuckles. “Oh Order, you do have no reason to hide how insecure you are about your outward appearence! Lots of girls your age deal with being unattractive!” “Chaos.” “Yes?” “I'm over ten thousand years old; I don't care about that; but please, tell the story truthfully,” she says, maybe just kinda secretly lying a little bit. Chaos, up on the roof, fires off a confused look to the sky as he looks up at the stars. “. . . Ten thousand, you say?” “Yes.” “. . . Oh my . . . um . . .yes! I was clearly testing you! And you passed! As your reward, I have decided that your breasts are not the size of an eight year old's,” Chaos affirms with a dignified, deep tone. “That's nice,” Order says carelessly. “You're just a flatty.” “And what does this have to do with the story?” “Oh, it has nothing to do with the story. I just love irritating people.” “I've noticed . . . How about you continue?” “Is that an order, Order?” “No Chaos, it is a polite suggestion,” Order says as she crosses her arms. Many of the guests have found a new respect for Order; realizing now that she has had to put up with this guy for thousands of years. “Very well,” So Oberon freaked out like a sissy, and Order ran up to engage me. She started her stride off a bit heavy however, so I had a few extra seconds to pull out the Kingdom Slayer and place it in my other hand. I threw the second arm at Oberon, who, in turn, freaked out even more; he was manly and fearless like that . . . . I wonder what he has been up to all of these years . . . whatever. So then me and Order fought, I dashed around as usual and killed a whole bunch of other idiots while fighting her. Order is really bad at fighting you must know. “No she's not! Chief's the best I know!” Justice interrupts with his naturally ridiculous, almost juvenile voice. Chaos laughs. “Better than me?” asks the overlord. “Most def-” “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Chaos interrupts in an indignantly stupid manner, causing another fit of laughter from some of the younger guests. Justice frowns as his feelings are pushed aside again. Now then, I won the fight, said something really cool like “Bacon is at 10', weaklings,” and then I left. Oh wait! I also spit out Titania's head at Oberon. Then he started crying; it was all very nice. After that I went back home to chill out in my tea filled with po- . . . *ehem* pool filled with tea, and then that was basically the whole story. Chaos finishes with a mighty grin on his face, and then a releases a fairly-bored yawn. “Right, so who would like to speak next?” he asks. Grendan scowls, Chaos is keeping his thoughts together surprisingly well tonight; he would have made a complete fool of himself otherwise. “You skipped a part Chaos,” Order says as she off-handedly sips her tea. Grenan's frown turns upside down. There is still a chance that his enemy will humiliate himself. “Oh, did I now?” “Yeah, I hunted you down, remember?” Order reminds, almost talking as if it were a funny game the two of them played a long time ago. Chaos tries his best to remember if that had actually happened. “Hmm . . . Yes, yes I do seem to recall something pike that,” he says, mixing up the word “like” with “pike.” “I think it went something pike . . .” I was done beating up the fairies and stuff, but now that Flatty menti- “It's Order, if you please,” Order quickly interrupts. Chaos sighs. But now that Ms. whiny-sissy-poop-baby-no-sense-of-humor-and-terrible-home-decorating-skills mentions it, I do indeed recall our fight being a bit more awesome than I had at first thought. So after I killed a whole bunch of people I ran for it because I was bored, and she just chased me. I would have torn a portal to escape like usual, but she had been awfully on-the-ball lately in jumping in after me, which I was not in the mood to deal with at the moment. So the two of us dashed through the woods. I eventually got to liking the idea that, if I could tire her out, I could simply turn around and be rid of her forever! . . . Wait . . . Why haven't I thought of this kind of plot before? . . . Oh, that's right, I have! . . . And . . . Oh yeah! That's why I came here! I could just do it right now! Genius! Chaos stops his story as he has just reminded himself of the entire reason he did all of this skillful trickery; he was going to kill them! The guests watch as Chaos drops from the opening in the roof and lands with a slam right in the middle of the circle. As he is not currently using any weight-reducing spells, all 5959 pounds of him impacts down into the marble floor with a mighty crash. Shards of marble fly everywhere, as Chaos' landing mark is something that will the janitor will definitely not be able to buff out. Grendan gets behind his chair and pulls out a piece of magic chalk. The arch-mage begins scribbling madly, drawing a complex image on the floor amidst the confusion. The guests, quickly taking this as the “Chaos is going to kill us all” cue, topple chairs and spill drinks, both hard and soft in nature, in their rush to escape. Chaos, noting that his nemesis has not turned around like a coward, walks up to Order, who is taking a polite stand. For the reader's education, Order is approximately 1/7th as badass as Chaos, and that is saying a lot, because Chaos is super insane badass. Because of Order's massive badass levels, she has already made the decision in her mind that, if it came to this, she would just let Chaos kill her. He would take his time if she just stood there, providing enough of a chance for the others to leave. If she could currently use magic, it would be quite different, but 10,000+ years of luck seem enough to her. Order takes the loss of people badly, you see, and witnessing four of her friends drop from the roof as corpses, certainly is not something that would strike her as pleasant. Of course, to the royalty, they are just generic, boring guards, but to Order, she knew their names, saw them grow up as young teenagers into the capable knights that were so black-heartedly slain by Chaos only a few minutes ago. For the first time in a long time, Order decides that she does not care, and would just as soon die and get her life over with. It is only once every few centuries that Order gives up, but at least this way she can save a few more lives before her own is taken by the Dark King. As 90% of the guests exit the ballroom and castle with great haste, Chaos approaches Order, next to the story-telling chair, and grasps her throat. His razor-sharp digits fixate around her neck, and a great grin grows across the face of the King Slayer. “Any last words?” Chaos asks his greatest foe. For a long time now, Order has thought of what she would say if she were to die by his hand; she seems to not care about that anymore for some reason. Her life of 10,000-something is about to end. Does she have some pathetic, childish, animal-like last phrase to proclaim to the universe that her life has been a waste? Does she have some deep, thoughtful words telling her inhuman foe that she is just a cowardly human deep-down? Could she, perhaps, have any sentence or thought that she would want to have engraved on her great tombstone in the middle of Ragnivan's royal grave-gardens? Order is silent; this means “no.” Chaos squints one of his glowingly-white, perfectly circular eyes, displaying his pleasure. He raises his other perfect black hand up to the chest of his foe. Chaos, the same Chaos in all of the stories that have been told for millenia, does not need a weapon to kill someone. He is the razor-sharp monstrosity, the dark stealth-or-otherwise master that would rule the world by now if it were not for his mysterious and constant loss of memory. The overlord shrugs. “Suit yourself,” he says as he draws back his hand to thrust it into her heart. Order closes her eyes. If she were to have a biography written about her, this would be the part in the story where she would smile, as if she had no care in the world, and peacefully go on to the place that all of the other great people go when they die. However, Order is too worldly to be welcoming to death. The truth is, even after all of her time of life, she is very afraid to die; but sees it as futile to resist now, as she is without magic. All she can do now is wait for that piercing, hot sensation of feeling one's own blood run out of them. One would expect someone this old to be a true selfless paragon of righteousness, but Order is unsure if she would not kill to eat if she had no other choice. After her thousands and thousands of years, she is still so reliant on the beastly principles of human life to be unafraid of death. She may not show it, but she really hates it when people talk down to her. She is secretly quite sad on those days that she remembers her family, the family that Chaos had murdered. She is secretly quite angry when someone offends her sense of style; and in complete honesty, she secretly feels quite bad when people comment on her plain looks. In all truth, she really has not changed all that much from the little girl in the western forests, thousands of years ago. In her thoughts that she presumes are her last, she feels Chaos' dominating, overlordly grip around her throat. She wonders to herself, for just a small, small fraction of a second, if Chaos ever has problems like she does. He is as old, if not older than her, but he is so endlessly confidant, strong, and capable. He is racked with the worst case of memory loss she has ever heard of, and still he is famous dimensions over. He is the one that fairy-tales are written of. Paintings and songs and plays all focus on him and his nature. Order thinks of herself, and of all that she has accomplished. In this place in time, it feels like nothing in comparison to this man, who will be remembered by everyone, forever. Is this the price of her humanity, her gender, her weakness? Can only an inhuman killer like Chaos be this happy? Order does not know what to think. As her pulse quickens, she wonders to herself why he is so well known, and even beloved by some, while there are those who still call her “that person in the armor with the huge sword.” Has she completed anything? Order looks down at Chaos' razor-sharp, light-eating fist, ready to utterly destroy her and her flat chest. Yes, she has completed things. The only sense of accomplishment Order can sum up within herself at this moment is around those that she has helped throughout her life. She was not a waste, she has saved countless lives, and in that, she can find some sort of consolation. Even so, it only provides a small comfort to her, as the question on her mind is why something so evil can be so gleeful, while she, a woman who considers herself one of the kindest on their Earth, is dragged down with misery. A small tear forms in her eye. There are so many questions she wishes she could have the answer to. There are so many things she has never gotten around to doing. 10,000-something years was just not long enough. Order hopes, that if there is a place for her in the world of the dead, that she could maybe, one day, learn to be someone who is truly good, not a generous rich person, or a kind person who has no reason to be sad. She wants to be someone who has the world against them, and they would still be smiling. Even if she were outcast from every place in society, hated by billions, she would still be happy. Chaos is like that, and he smiles more than anyone she knows. He is probably the loneliest person to have ever lived, and yet, he is clearly one of the most content. Order, as Chaos flexes to end her life, wonders just who the hell Chaos really is. Even if she had the chance to kill him, she is unsure if she would do it, because she would like to talk with him, about everything. She would like to someday know why he is happy. Order takes another breath, expecting it to be her last. *Ping* goes a peculiar sound. Chaos pauses as the color tint of the room, and everything inside it, changes. Grendan, done with his little bit of dispelling magic, bolts for his staff. Grendan has just raised Chaos' magical barrier. Many people who did not leave also take note of this, and seize the opportunity. Most of the people are loyal knights, who would at least want to be with Order in her last time of life, but also the Duke of Wales remains, because he could not fit through the door everyone was escaping through. This is probably the time the reader would ask: “Well how did the Duke get inside in the first place?” The author's response to that would be that the main door, through which the guests had entered, is now locked tightly. This is also probably the time the reader would ask: “Why would they even lock the door?” The author's response to that would be that Justice locked it, on account that in Justice's magic world of things that always make sense to him, it would help keep Chaos outside even though it wouldn't. Let us continue. Chaos' grin widens, now quite alert of the knights quickly approaching, and takes his jab at Order. “Sköld!” Order casts as she thrusts her hand into Chaos'. The spell activates instantly, and Order saves her life by a semi-second. A small space of shielding power forms into her hand as she thrusts it into Chaos' own hand. The Tower King draws back in a bit of surprise, but is not particularly shocked by this sudden change of events. “Sköldria!” Order again shouts as she thrusts a stronger version of her force spell into Chaos' other arm, releasing her from his deathly grasp. The overlord would of course attempt to kill her again, but now about a dozen of the White Lady's knights are dashing toward him to teach him not to screw with their tea parties. Chaos leaps up through the air across the room to gain a bit of space, and reaches into his throat to grasp the sword called “The Grave Maker”, one of his current favorites. He had lost his favorite favorite, The Kingdom Slayer, a few years ago when his general betrayed him and all of his armies had abandoned him. Chaos would have the reader think that he does not care about that sort of stuff, but he does, and bitterly hates his old general, named Hate, ironically enough. Chaos brandishes the sword as Justice, Harmony, Faith, and many other knights charge their foe in their fabulous party attire. Order sees this as a time to grab her gear up in the service hall. Grendan, staff in hand, watches as Chaos leaps around the room with all of the knights cold on his tail. As hard as they are trying, The Lord of Outrunning has such a title for a good reason. Grendan, sweat streaming across his face in the extreme anticipation of avenging his grandchildren, aims the staff at the Overlord from afar. The magician known throughout all of the western kingdoms begins his incantation. Chaos has been corralling the knights around the room with a good amount of skill. From all of the running back-and-forth the knights are now quite tired and are slowing down considerably, Justice being the only exception. Justice, for the reader's information, does not have many friends, so instead he kills most of the voids of his life with the constant practice of athletics. It is for this reason that he is a fantastic athlete. The rest of the knights decide to take a breather, as it is clear that when they get to one side of the room, Chaos will just leap across to the other; it is quite tiring as the reader might imagine. The overlord grins in his great superiority of tactical evasion, but just as the thought of him sitting on top of everyone's corpses enters his mind, he feels a strange halting in the air around him. “-yn dal i gynnal!” Grendan casts as he finishes his exceptionally long spell, and Chaos is suspended in midair. The spell is of such magnitude however, that not only is Chaos put in the stasis, but everyone else in the entire room is stopped as well. Who is the only one nearby that is not in the room? Why, it is the dear and fashionable Order. She gets into the hallway, quickly dawns her armor, ready to war against the Overlord, and with her great sword in hand, enters back into the ballroom. Everyone is still. It is as if she had just walked into a really tacky surrealist painting. There is only one thing that is not completely obedient to the power of the holding magic: it is Chaos, who is very-slowly pulling himself out of the invisible hold with strength from another plane of existence; as Order had expected, Chaos is the only one in the room who can deny the very laws of magiphysics so readily. Order looks over to her left as she makes her way down the steps. Grendan is frozen along with them. He really is very talented as a magician; to be able to put an entire room in stasis for even a couple of seconds would require a prodigious amount of magical skill. Order wonders for a moment, as she passes him, just how long he has been preparing this spell; she suspects many weeks. She looks now to Chaos, very-steadily freeing himself from the magic hold of his foe. This is her chance. Order does not run up to end his life however. She paces slowly, reverently, as if she were approaching an exotic and rare animal. “Chaos,” she asks the Overlord. Chaos slowly turns his head, and grins with his terrible black jaws. “Yes, dearie?” he addresses. “Do you remember how it ended?” “Ha! You are more concerned about stories than me freeing myself? I must say that is bad conduct towards people like me!” Hearing this, Order pulls up a chair. “I'm sure I have some time. If you haven't remembered the spell to counteract something like this by now that is, I'm sure I have some time. Would you mind telling me the rest?” “. . . Of the story?” “Yeah,” Order says, with a peculiar, blue tint to her eyes. “. . . Very well, it is your funeral that will be had, not mine,” Chaos says as he clears his glowing throat. PART TWELVE: CHAOS' STORY (PART 2) So you and I fought a bit as I'm sure you remember, but then something happened . . . I forget . . . Let me think . . . “We came across the hold of necromancers,” Order interrupts. Chaos snaps his black fingers in slow-motion. That is correct! Thank you! So you and I were fighting across the forests, when we came across a gigantic mansion made out of sticks and bracken. The two of us stopped fighting after we spotted it, because we both realized that this was the walking home of the undying lords . . . Right? “Right, we both wanted to stop them. I did because they went about killing innocent people, and you because . . . What was it again?” Order questions. “It was because they were way too stylish to be necromancers, and I could not let such a crime against fa- . . .wait . . . no . . . I think it had to do with bacon . . . Man some bacon tea sounds quite lovelt right now . . . Pardon me, my dear, would you like to go get some bacon with me after all of this, perchance?” Chaos asks, now very mentally absent. Order smirks, and sighs. It seems his few hours of clarity have ended, and he is again a dimwitted genius of sorts. “I don't think that would work out Chaos,” Order responds. “Oh? Why not?” “Well people are afraid of you. Where would you buy bacon?” “Oh, I'd just steal some piggies.” “Okay, but even then I could not be seen around you.” “And why is that?” “Because we're mortal enemies, remember?” Order asks with an arched brow. It seems that his amnesia has completely cycled into its lower level of degeneration. Chaos stares at Order a moment, a bit confused. “We are? . . . Oh, that is right. Indeed: you stupid, dumb, idiot knight. . . . Now then:” So we both stopped fighting as we both knew it would probably not go anywhere. Well, that is not entirely true. I beat you in sword fights quite often really, and yet there is always someone who comes and saves you right at the last minute. . . . Hey, remember Astradan? That guy was so dumb. One day he was all like: “CHAOS I'M RETARDED!” and then we fought and I killed him. “Chaos,” Order interrupts again, trying her best to walk Chaos slowly through the story so she can get to the part she's been curious about. “Yes, my lady?” “First of all, Astradan was a very respectable man and had no problems thinking like anyone else. Also you're getting off track again. Please see if you can stay with it.” *pffft* Fine. You know that keeping track of things is not good for a young woman's bodily development . . . Oh wait . . . You're old, like me. That's right. Whatever. So you were all like: “Chaos, temporary truce?” And then I was like: “Why would I ever want to do that? As a capable and badass overlord I could take you and all of the necromancers on myself while enjoying a fine cup of Irish.” I was going to keep fighting, but then something happened I guess, and they started attacking us, and they might have been a bit stronger than I had thought at first. I forget why . . . Did they summon something or . . . Something? Oh yeah, they summoned up some really nasty guy that they've been spending decades of practice and research on just to pull him up from the dead . . . An overlord, right? . . . Yes, I am certain it was. So then that changed my mind when the sky changed color and plenty of cool stuff happened, I knew that this guy would be at least a half-worthy foe for me, unlike some people I know. . . . Right, so because he would have be just so easy for me, I decided it would be the good and gentlemanly thing to do to let you get some battle experience along with me. So we did indeed team up, and then that fight was pretty sweet, but . . . Oh wait . . . were we wounded? “Yeah,” Order answers, Monument resting on the side of her chair. “I seem to forget, did you back-stab me in the middle of the fight and then just get wounded yourself because you were, and still are, mind you, a weakling?” “No, the undead overlord was just that strong.” “A likely story my dear. Perhaps if you were a bit more truthful I would not go around killing everybody all the time.” “That's the truth,” she says with a curious expression. Chaos is almost out from his binds of time and space. “Oh my, that is quite the predicament. We won, right?” “I don't think we would be here talking otherwise.” “Oh . . . That is right. I presume you had magic wounds, thus preventing you from using your cheap healing magic to fix it?” “Well, more or less.” “And my body must have been pretty screwed up if I decided that I would need your help.” “That's right.” “Ahh . . .” “So then you and I called a truce to finish the engagement, and we just talked a bit in the wreckage of the necromancer's base, right?” “Yeah. Do you remember when we were talking, and you said something that caught my attention?” Order asks thoughtfully, having been wondering on the answer for a good long time. Chaos squints a great circular eye. “I believe I do.” “And then I asked you a question.” “. . . Yes?” “The question you said you forgot the answer to?” “. . . Yes?” “What was the answer?” Order asks, the question being on her mind ever since he had said that those many years ago. Chaos moves a freed arm around to his black chin to stroke it in thought. “Eh . . . Let me see now . . . I believe it was . . . Oh! That's right. I believe the answer was that I can do nothing else,” Chaos answers finally, as he releases the last part of himself form Grendan's immensely-powerful spell. A twinkle of surprise glints in Order's eye, and a weight is lifted off of her heart. Having answered her question, Order feels Chaos is absolutely evil, without a single hope for redemption. Order, finally, has the inner justification she needs to destroy, or at least defeat him. Of course, he has done many evil things over the course of his life, but Order was under the assumption that there is hope for every life in the universe; Chaos must be the exception. Every chance she had to kill him, she stayed her blade in the hopes that he could be redeemed for the benefit of the world, but she understands now that these were mistakes to allow him to live on. Chaos is not some misunderstood creature that can be helped with time and tolerance, he is naturally evil, and would do wrong no matter what. Order sighs. She could still kill Chaos. He isn't ready to fight right now, but in a few seconds he will. The Maiden of Light stares at her greatest foe, grinning as usual as he re-arms himself, and sighs with a smile on her face. Her right arm twitches. She wants to pick up the Monument, but feels held back by something. “Hey Chaos,” she again addresses, with a tolerance that very few people have for this destroyer of civilizations. “Yes?” he asks as he enters stance with The Grave Maker. “You should leave,” she says calmly, her left hand subconsciously restraining her right from picking up the blade. Chaos grins. “And why would I want to do that?” he asks. Order smiles, almost like a teacher to a student. “Because you were going to get some bacon, remember?” “Oh . . . Oh yes. Well, see you another time, weakling!” Chaos says with a grin as he slowly backs away to leave. “I MUST DISAGREE,” calls a pompous voice from across the room. Chaos and Order both look toward the source of the voice. It's the Duke of Whales! He too broke out of the mighty magic bonds, and looks most displeased. Order, seeing it is the duke, loses her at-peace smile. The Duke will soon regret tangling with Chaos; the Overlord that can deny physics itself. “You disagree, do you?” Chaos asks as he grins at the Duke with his range of hideously sharp jaws. By this point, Order swears she can hear a funeral march being played in the back of her head. The Duke makes a whalish frown as he puffs his pipe angrily. “You ruined the celebration, you ruffian! You also made me fail my college report, and beat me at a surfing competition! I say I demand satisfaction!” the Duke says as he raises his flippers for combat. The Overlord laughs a moment, black jaws curving up like something out of a nightmare. “Sorry, buddy, but I have some pigs to eat,” Chaos says as he turns to leave. Order is surprised, it is not every day that Chaos turns down a challenge; but then again, he does love his food and tea. The Duke, with speed unknown to anyone but himself, floats forward and sends a punch at Chaos with all the fury of the aristocratic sea of his dimension. The Duke strikes Chaos just fine, unfortunately, and the whale's fin is split instantly on Chaos' sharp, blade-like body. The Duke yells in agony a moment, and then Chaos shrugs; he might as well. Chaos leaps at his new foe with blade poised, and cleaves the whale across his marinesque face. Blood splatters across the ridiculous whale's wound and paints the other side of the ball room, including Order, who deeply dislikes being spattered with anything. The Duke groans in the pain of having the majority of his face torn off, and falteringly re-enters his guard. Chaos laughs, seeing the whale's blood spew about, and then grabs the large creature by its tail. Order is silent; she does not want to encourage him to fight against anyone else. At least, that is what she would say if someone were to ask her why she did not save the Duke. Chaos swings the gargantuan marine animal around to a terminal velocity, and then releases the Duke straight out one of the ball-room windows. The Duke goes flying, and will probably meet the ground in the next few minutes. Chaos grins his finest grin in victory, and then naturally looks at the crimson-painted Order. She just stares, acting as if they had no other business. Chaos shrugs, and dashes out into the outside to find him some bacon. Order decides, as there is little more to do in her opinion, to simply sit and wait. Of course, she could go and find the duke and make sure he's okay, but she actually does not care all that much for the duke, because he is a huge jerk. Sitting laxly, she sheathes her mighty blade, Monument, as she will not need it again tonight most-likely, and wipes the Duke's blood from her face with a less than pleased expression on her features. A few more seconds pass, and all of the knights, held in stasis, drop to the floor. Grendan however, will still be frozen for a few hours, such being the penalty for using extreme-level magics without the proper skill level. Grendan is probably the best magician in the Western Kingdoms (with the occasional exception of Chaos in his moments of lucidity), but even he has his limits. That said, Justice is the first to exclaim obnoxiously at the surroundings. “Holy Sh-- . . . shoot! Chief! Are you okay?!” Justice asks quickly. “I'm fine, Justice. Me and Chaos had a fight as usual, and then he threw the Duke out the window,” Order explains with a tea cup in her hand, now partially filled with the blood of the Duke. Faith looks over the wreckage thoughtfully, and then turns to Order. “Shouldn't we make sure if he's okay or not?” he asks. Order taps the teacup thoughtfully. “We could, but do you really want to?” Order says, being unexpectedly careless for her usually kind-self. Justice and Harmony laugh, because they both agree with her. Faith rolls his eyes, wondering sometimes why she is the one in charge, and dashes off to find the Duke. Faith passes a fine scaly gentleman making his way inside the ballroom. It is Greed. He is an overlord, and also the king of the North-most of the Western Kingdoms, Whihelmish. “Looks like you all had a fun night,” Greed states, as well-dressed as ever. Justice crosses his arms distrustfully. “Maybe, what do you want?” he says with an “I'm more righteous and thus better” expression on his face. Greed smiles with his sharp, reptilian teeth. “Oh, just thought I'd drop in when I heard that Chaos had come by.” “But! But how did you even know that?! Communications were cut off!” Justice questions in a less than manly fashion. Greed grins when he hears the ignorant Justice say this. “You're awfully smart for a knight, you know. You see, my information networks are very skilled at what they do. You would be wise to remember that,” the overlord says as he reaches into his coat-pocket and lights up a pipe costing as much as a small town. Justice is not sure if Greed had just offended him or not. That lizard guy can be so confusing with all of his fancy sentence structures! “Yeah?! Well even so, what did you come here for?” “Well Mr. Genius Knight Justice, I've actually come for the one you so fondly call 'chief,'” Greed states with a puff of his super-expensive smoking apparatus. Justice backs away to the side and lets Greed approach Order, who is stretching from the long night. “Hello there,” the small dragon-kin greets. “Hey,” Order responds. “Could we, perhaps, speak in private?” Greed asks as he points to a far corner of the room. Order looks at the other knights around her, and nods. The Masteress of Light and the Man of Unlimited Sin step over and away from the others, Justice particularly because he eavesdrops on pretty much everything. “That's better,” Greed states with a sharp smile. “I guess. So what is it that you needed me for?” Order responds, a bit surprised that an overlord like Greed would just walk up one day without warning and ask to talk with her. “Well, as you know, I am usually one to keep to my business up in that terribly cold Whihelmish. However I have recently come into the need of Chaos' disposal,” Greed says as he grabs one of the bottles of wine on the table near them and drinks straight out. Order makes a mixed expression. “That certainly is peculiar. You're usually pretty happy when Chaos runs around and burns villages. You can make a good profit offering the victims aid, right?” “Well, I can't tell a lie,” Greed lies. “I certainly do make a good bit of cash off of . . . civil relief efforts. This however is not why I'm talking to you,” he adds with a sly grin. “What is this real reason, then?” Order questions. “I've had a change of heart,” Greed says with his best “pitiful” voice. Order raises a white brow. “Really?” she asks, obviously quite skeptical. “Really my dear. You see, I have spent so much of my life extorting others, I've always wondered if there was another side to life. A better side, filled with thanks of the people and love for all!” Greed explains with a dramatic tone. Order tries her best not to roll her eyes. “And so, I have decided that I would do an act so great, and so kind, that I would instantly become a paragon of righteousness! That's how it works right?” “Not rea--” “Excellent! So my plan . . . is to defeat . . . Chaos himself! What do you think of that?” Greed exclaims, just loud enough to be annoying to Order, but just quiet enough to remain unheard by the others in the room. “It certainly is a . . . lofty goal,” she says, knowing that the opportunities she has had to even deal an actual strike to Chaos only pop up once every few decades. “Oh, but not for you my dear! A matter of fact, you had the chance to kill him just two minutes ago!” Greed says with a business-like grin on his face. Order pauses. “You . . . You saw that?” “Oh, not me. Simply someone who works for me, as usual. It would be quite a shame if, say, the kings were to hear about your, pardon my Dwarfish but, half-assed efforts?” Greed says with a manipulative smile. Order stares Greed in the eyes closely. “It certainly would,” she responds coldly. “And oh! What would the media say? Imagine the headlines! 'leader of the royal knights, in secret love affair with the Great Murderer of Armies!'” “We are absolutely not--” “Oh of course you aren't! It's just what the news would say tomorrow if they were to find out!” Greed says with a superior smile on his face. If they were in private, Order would have half a mind to smash this overlord's dirty overlord face, but she is in company of her fellow knights, and she must be a good example. “Alright. What do you want from me?” she questions, understanding quickly her bargaining position. Greed slithers his scaly arm around Order's shoulders. “Oh, nothing much. Actually I was wondering if the two of us could ban-together and strike Chaos down! And don't worry, we won't have to kill him. We could just do something else, like just seal away his magic!” “I don't care,” Order says with eyes of an apathetic yellow. “Oh my! Then why, might I ask, did you spare him?” Order looks up to the opened roof that Chaos had leapt out from just a few minutes ago. “I was curious about something.” “Ahh, yes! But then you let him go after he told you!” Order smirks hearing Greed say this; he is pretty observant. “Yeah . . . I don't know, sometimes, I hate him more than anything. The small talk we just had proved to me that he is terrible by nature, irredeemably so, and yet, Greed, there is something about him that makes me hope.” “Hope?” “Yes . . . I feel that he could do so much good for the kingdoms and the omniverse if someone just . . . I dunno, taught him to care about others. I'm sure that this is impossible, but I suppose what my heart has a tendency to disagree with my mind,” Order explains, dreamily staring up at the roof in thought. Greed smiles. “Well dearie, maybe you'll get the chance soon.” “What do you mean?” “Well, I thought perhaps he would like to attend a tea party over at your place,” the well-dressed dragon-kin says with a casual shrug. “Chaos . . . To a tea party? There's no way he'd--” “Oh, I think he would. Being as absent-minded as he is, I'm sure he would forgo many a warning in his mind to go and drink some delicious tea,” Greed says with a smirk. Order thinks a moment, and sighs. “Alright.” “Excellent! I'll be over by your home to discuss the details tomorrow!” With this, Greed pats the petite lady on the back, and walks off. Order crosses her arms, wondering how all of this will turn out, and decides that she will just wait and see. She steps over to Justice, Harmony and the others. “What did'he want chief?” Justice asks like an eager schoolgirl. “Apparently I'll be hosting a tea party.” “Why?” “I'll explain later . . . . And could someone please drag Grendan out of here and get him back to Kanavan? He has stuff to do too,” Order orders, gesturing over to Grendan, who is still frozen in time thanks to his spell. Justice salutes his captain, and dashes off to get the Arch Mage and take him to his home. Harmony chuckles, seeing Justice drag off the old man, and nudges Order. “What” “He's kind of a drag, huh?” Harmony says with a silly smile. Order thrusts her palm into her face. She is not quite sure whether this was the best, or the worst royal knight ball in the history of the royal knight ball. PART THIRTEEN: WHAT REALLY HAPPENED, AS TOLD BY AN INVISIBLE THIRD-PERSON OMNISIENT NARRATOR WHO PROBABLY IS WEARING A MONACLE DUE TO THE FACT THAT HE'S AWESOME (AKA: DEJA VU) Chaos and Order deal the final strike to one-another for the day, as both of them have noticed something very alarming in these dark woods this warm night. There is a very large mansion, made entirely of sticks, vines and dirt, breathing loudly in the clearing that they had just entered. The scent of churned soil and blood is thick in the air around the monstrosity of a structure. Order backs up quickly, and Chaos, seeing the intention in his enemy's eyes, drops out of his swordplay stance. Chaos was about to ask why she drew away, but suddenly recalls not only the dire nature of the mansion, but its inhabitants. “Oh, hey, would you look at that. Is that not the walking sanctuary of the necromancers?” Chaos asks, antennae perking up in both interest and surprise. Order nods. “That's it. . . . We never were able to find out where they were hiding with that living fortress,” Order says in partial disbelief that the infamous stronghold of the murderous mages of death is standing before her now. The Necromancers have been responsible for the brutal murders and kidnappings of nearly one tenth of Chaos' rampages. Considering by this time Chaos has slain over a billion creatures, it is understandable why Order, and her chapter of knights would be interested in stopping this evil guild of sorcerers for good. The Mastress of Light, Order, looks between her greatest foe, that she has fought against almost every year of her life, and this group of cowardly, back-handed, human magicians that she could just finish off in a day. She fights Chaos all the time, and this probably will not go anywhere. A silence holds the two of them in place as they listen to the eerie breathing of a building that lives off of blood. “Hey . . . Chaos?” Order asks. The Overlord looks at her with a smile on his rock-crushing jaws. “Yes?” “Could we maybe . . . not fight this time?” “Oh my, are you saying that the righteous, upstanding, greatest-possible-example-of-how-one-should-live-their-life knight is possibly considering not fighting the one that murdered not only armies upon armies, but also the one that slew your-” “Yeah, that's what I'm saying,” Order says, quite serious. Chaos looks over to the grim mansion himself. He really does want to smash some people with other people; so he might as well. “Well, alright then. I'll just be messing with the nice folks in the necromancer guild the-” “Actually I was thinking the same.” Chaos grins hearing her say this. “Oh my! Are you saying that the righteo--” “Yes Chaos. Does the terrible, evil, cruel, mani--” “Not really. I suppose it would be fun to fight with, instead of against, someone every once in awhile,” Chaos states as he turns to the dark home of dozens of necromancers. Order does the same. They both want the same thing, so why not? The 68 unnatural, crimson eyes on the front of the giant mansion spot the two in the clearing, approaching rapidly. If this were one of those dimensions where dramatic violin string quartets accompany horrific creatures becoming aware of the presence of heroes, a dramatic string violin quartet would certainly be accompanying this moment. A dark howling exits the unworldly dwelling as it stands up on two lanky, pale legs. Chaos picks up the speed to a faster-than-cheetah velocity when the armored mansion, with it's own, hidden arms, reaches up from the dirt and pulls up an excruciatingly large sword. This blade, used by giants of the old time, fits to be a suitable weapon for the house, so great and so fearsome. Order raises her blade in defense, just in case the deceptively-slow house is actually quite fast to strike; Chaos however, is undeterred. The overlord sprints with the mania of a man who has nothing to live for, and leaps up, higher than the gruesome legs of the house, and straight into its door. It is as if the walking house has been impacted with a speeding, blacker-than-pitch bullet. Splinters fly out as the house moans in pain while wicker and branches unwrap and flail out of the wound. Chaos laughs a heart-chilling laugh, and speaks. “Feuerteufel,” Chaos casts with ease and skill. Chaos, as a professional magician, needs only speak the finishing words in the incantations of most spells to bring their powers into this reality. Suddenly a flare of searing strength fires from the hands of the overlord, and the great home of the murderers catches fire. Order watches in awe as the great mansion of the necromancers, “Breathing Graveyard,” falls over on its side with a loud, pathetic howl. Order knows that this is not even half of the fight, so she finds this a fine time to prepare herself as well. The Maiden of Light begins speaking in a quiet language. The great house squirms with its ghostly-white, bloodless limbs, trying to get itself upright. Without mercy, Chaos slashes his way inside the home with the Kingdom Slayer, when he feels a force push against him. In an old, magic tongue, a group of voices call out from inside the burning, living building. “-avvisa utrymme!” the angered, bitter voices boom out from the building. Chaos, pushed away by a massive magical force, is flung out from the entryway and back out into the field with his temporary comrade. A great chilling wind blows out of the felled fortress, putting out the flames and darkening the battlefield. Chaos, landing with perfect grace, quickly re-enters his stance for battling something much larger than himself. There is a silence across the field, and then frantic whispers begin inside the living building. Chaos and Order, quickly taking que, change their swordplay stances to fight magicians. The standard stance of fighting magic-users with enchanted weaponry is to hold the weapon directly in front of oneself, as if it were a tall shield. Most magic has a tendency to naturally curve and curl around other magic forces, like those inside the blades of Chaos and Order. The whispering quickly comes to a fever pitch, and then a finishing phrase. All together the voices cast their spells. The two hold their blades to intercept the hundreds of bolts of fire, ice, lightning and some elements that the reader probably hasn't heard of, to destroy them. The Heroess and the Overlord take no damage from the attack, as this magic is too weak to truly be threatening to them. While such magic would be threatening to most, the both of them have their share of protective enchantments cast over themselves and their swords. Another silence overcomes the field, and then the necromancers, seeing that this sort of tactic is ineffective, decide to step out of their home. The first ones to exit are the lowest-ranked members of the guild, dressed in their gray, blood-stained robes that forsake any feelings of warmth. The grass they step on instantly twist and freeze-over in their deathly presence. Order holds the blade in one hand, and continues her magical hand-gestures with the other; she's always been good at multitasking. Chaos would do the same, but he currently forgets the proper technique to do so. Next come the officers and the other mid-ranking members. They have forsaken their human arms and legs for swarms of inhuman appendages; very useful for dissecting bodies and grasping things from afar. Their gray robes are hopelessly tattered, but one is still unable to see the disgusting monstrosity concealed within the cloth. Chaos grins as he sees the serious faces of the necromancers. The eyes of the overlord can see much further, and much more than the average human weakling. The Destroyer of Cities decides that since he is not casting magic, he might as well lighten up the atmosphere. “Hey death guys!” Chaos addresses with a grin. A legion of glowing eyes peer at the overlord through their hoods. Chaos pauses a moment, thinking of something funny to say. “How do you beat a bunch of necromancers in a fight? You burn down their house!” Chaos says with extreme confidence. Hopefully, it is apparent to the reader that Chaos has recently forgotten his sense of humor, which is regrettable as it is one of his best qualities. However, the reader should not be alarmed, because Chaos forgets and remembers things all the time. Order shudders at the immense lameness of the joke, and stops her casting just a moment to look over to Chaos, and give him the “I can't believe you” look. The necromancers stay silent with grim scowls on their concealed, dead faces. They slowly all move aside to make way for their leader. From the black womb of the living mansion, something comes forward. No word for traveling would be quite right for describing the way this being moves. It is not walking, slithering, crawling. It is as if nightmares like this were a creature all their own, that obeyed rules that were written by someone else than the usual author of the omniverse. Many-eyed heads stick out of the cloak's torn and tattered fabric that now seems to mold with the darkness itself. The head necromancer extends one of its many hands, as if to cast a spell. A destroyed, cindered appendage reaches forth, and points in the direction of the heroine and her old foe. The army of the dark rushes toward the two with magics unseen to most. Order throws her hand out, having now finished her long incantation. “-speculum vitrastica!” Order casts with righteous authority. Fortunately for Chaos, he recognizes the spell and moves well behind her as any the light from any and every scource in the area gathers in her hand. The necromancers dash maddeningly to the two with murderous intent, but are not fast enough to outrun the magic fury of the leader of the old knights. The light forms into a bow of pure holy magic, and rests dutifully in the maiden's hand. She does not use other weapons other than The Monument much, but she is fantastic with them regardless. She drives Monument into the ground as a few of the more cowardly necromancers scatter away to live a longer life, and feels the bowstring. A white arrow, larger than most blades, appears in her hand, ready for its mission to travel through the bodies of her enemies. With an almost reflexive motion, Order opens fire with arrow-after-arrow, each bolt appearing into her hand to be fired at yet another unfortunate magician of death. The waves of arrows fly into, and then through the necromancers as their magical shields are pierced in an instant by Order's immense magic strength. Chaos chuckles as the flying bolts dismember the agents of the grave, as any magic they have pales in comparison to a single one of Order's spells. The overlord grins; it is quite understandable as to why she has been his nemesis all these years. Not only is she prodigiously studious in magic, she also has the willpower and focus to make the spells work. Thousands of years ago, before Order, the thought of a lady engaging something in combat was near-unthinkable. She has since wiped that tradition off of the Western Kingdoms as she was the one who went toe-to-toe with Chaos every time, and survived. Chaos nods approvingly. She may not be particularly challenging, but he respects her more than any other enemy. Chaos is taken from his absent-minded perspective when he notices the head necromancer calmly walking forward, unlike his minions, dashing around every which way; it must think it's something special to walk so pretentiously. The arrows penetrate the guard of the officer necromancers and slaughter them in their place. Black, deadened blood paints the ground around the targets of the Sword-Masteress. Now that the field of the necromancer's hideout is now covered with the destroyed bodies of the cruel magicians, Order lowers her bow for just a moment to allow the steam rising from her armored hand to settle; she shoots very fast, so this is an understandable precaution. Chaos, with his massive, and massively forgetful intellect, presumes this is his moment to help out. The lord of the necromancers extends a gray, dead hand into the air. “RISE!” the dead, and yet living man yells. An eerie humming can be heard as the entire squad of necromancers slowly, surely get back on their feet, bodies recomposing. Chaos and Order spare a glance to one-another, both realizing that this will not be quite as easy as they had first thought. “Watch your aim, dear,” Chaos says as he steps out in front of her to engage the huge group of necromancers, again making a quick group sprint to the two. Order nods and raises her bow for the seconds round. The overlord dashes into the group of necromancers and cleaves through about five of them at a time with the Kingdom Slayer, a sword named after his own title. Droves of swords, knives, daggers, axes and more are driven Chaos' way only to be completely ignored. Any weapon user that has the good fortune to strike the Overlord is quickly met with the realization that the strength of ordinary weaklings is no match for his perfectly-black form, serving as both a suit of armor, and his own body. Chaos meets each strike with a death-dealing cleave through the entirety of each necromancer, as a hailstorm of white arrows, shot by Order, pick off any stray life in the group. Again, all of the necromancers are dead, save their leader, who again raises his hand to bring them back into his dark service; Chaos and Order, however, have different plans. “RI-” “Spookachtig licht,” Chaos casts with twice as much skill and speed as the necromancer king. Quickly the cloaked monstrosity’s hand ignites into flame in the blazing fury of Chaos' magic strength. The necromancer is halted just a moment as it quickly dispels the fire from its hand, and again raises its Faith appendage. “R-” the necromancer is interrupted, this time not by a quick spell. The Lord of Death becomes aware of a sharp, deep voiding in its bowels. The years of fake, wavering fulfillment the necromancer has felt over the years by perusing power is voided in a moment, as it feels the entirety of its insides torn out. Looking down, the towering figure sees Chaos, Kingdom Slayer plunged inside of him, having just emptied its torso. The one speck of humanity inside of the necromancer quivers in fear that it felt not a single twinge of pain. This was the life the necromancer had perused; it wanted to feel nothing. Of course, the dead, new part of the necromancer does not care about this, because it does not need any of those vital organs. The necromancer, now without even the twisted air to breathe, curls pathetically in Chaos' grip, and goes limp. Chaos laughs, and Order, who rarely sees the stealthy side of Chaos in action, feels a bit unnerved. “Spookachtig licht,” Chaos again casts, setting the house, breathing in pain, on fire as he sets his blade in his jaws. Order approaches casually as the deed has been done, and there is no longer any threat. “Thanks Chaos,” she says. For some reason, the word “Thanks,” and the name “Chaos” do not seem to fit together well in her mind, especially not in the same sentence. She usually thinks of the name along with other, more negative-sounding words like: “Stop,” “Kill,” or “Look in the sky!” and other words and phrases of that caliber. The Overlord throws the necromancer's corpse aside, and turns to Order like a gentleman. “Well thank you, my dear. I would say the same, but you were actually quite terrible and even shot me a few times,” Chaos says with a condescending grin. Order's face lights up with protest toward the sheer impossibility of the situation. “N-no I didn't!” Order retorts, red eyed. Chaos shrugs. “Well that must be because your weak, human eyes are unable to spot anything important over fifty feet away, dear,” Chaos says with an offensively-positive grin. “No, I saw you fine! I did not shoot you a single- . . . what was that?” Order pauses as she hears a quiet breathing. Chaos has been hearing it the entire time, but decided not to act on it as anything breathing with that much weakness would soon be dead from one cause or another and would generally not require his attention. However necromancers do not play by the usual rules of the world. Taking an horrifyingly fast stand, the necromancer leader is now again back on its feet. Order draws back in surprise, and then re-draws her bow. “Push them to their grave, Xannon!” the necromancer cries with its same, decrepit voice. Order sends a bolt straight into its head the moment after the words exit its third mouth, but the evil force is already aware. Chaos and Order feel a strong pulse of miasma flowing out of the ground as a large gate forces its way out of the soil. From within the portal to an unknown realm, a hundred dark hands reach forth, grasp the corpses of the necromancers, and drag them into the portal for tribute to the great overlord Xannon. A rumbling begins. Order and Chaos spare another glance at one-another, and prepare for round three. Out of the portal comes the screeching riffs of intense electric guitar and then . . . an arm. Red, muscular, and larger than a tree trunk, the arm pulls out of the portal, and with it, the rest of Xannon. Several unseen long-haired 80's era singers scream at a fever pitch as the guitars wail wildly at the overlord's entry. It's obvious to anyone that this guy is not just a badass, but an 'Xtreme” badass. Order, overlooking Xannon, sees that he has not changed much from the last time she fought him about 3,800 years ago. Same giant, cracked muscles; same endlessly condescending and arrogant scowl; same height of 23 feet tall. With eyes aglow, Xannon looks down to the two mortals as the badass overlord guitars die down in reverence of his words. “Well damn, lookie here. If it ain't retard and retardeder,” Xannon says, thinking he has a great sense of humor. Order, knowing well combat is inevitable, draws her string for a shot and begins stepping back. Chaos however, is not quite as tactical as Order. He has a preference in making sure his opponent knows well that he is going to tear off their head and laugh at it, before he tears off their head and laughs at it. “'Retardeder' is not even a real word . . . I do believe,” Chaos corrects with his limited memory. “I care not. What I'm saying is that I'm about to tear off your head and laugh at it, Chaos.” “Oh really now? Well, as gentlemen I feel we could handle this with more civility,” Chaos says, surprising Order. Chaos, though he may usually be poised as such, certainly does not act like a gentleman when it comes to fighting . . . or does he? Order thinks upon it more as Xannon crosses his broad arms. An unseen guitar wales violently downward to express the overlord's disapproval to Chaos' challenge. “Very well. You and me, rock battle,” Xannon says as he pulls out from the blazing portal a burning, 14 foot Saint Doom Electric. Chaos laughs with badass overlord confidence. “Rock? What is this rock you speak of?” “Psssh, obviously the music of the universe. All things secretly communicate through rock 'n roll, and I am its master. That's why they call me the 'Overlord of Wailing', ya dig?” “Oh, I dig indeed.” The two pause in silence as Order holds her bolt in place. “So, where's your axe?” Xannon says with a frown. Chaos' antennae perk up. “Axe? Oh! An axe! One moment then,” Chaos responds as he shoves his perfectly light-absorbing arm into his jaws and begins fishing around. Now that Order thinks about it, she has never really seen Chaos do something that was considered absolutely behind the back. Whenever she fought him, he always retained a grinning poise about him. Regardless of his innumerable crimes against Universe and its creatures, Chaos has always seemed to have a fairness about him when it came to duels. Even when he was outnumbered, he never pulled any “Hey! Look over there!”'s or “I give up! . . . Sike!”'s. Could it be that there is a secret honor to this man of immense evil? Order, bow ready for firing, decides not to dwell on it too much. After a few passed seconds, Chaos withdraws from his glowingly-white innards a great axe, usable to easily cleave one's head off. Chaos revolves the axe in his hand confidently, showing off his fantastic axeman skills. Xannon rolls his manly, bloodshot eyes. “You're such an idiot Chaos. How could'ja be the high overlord of dimension #13 anyway?” “Because I am better than everyone. Oh, except you of course,” Chaos says with taunting sarcasm. “Get an actual axe,” Xannon demands sternly. “This is an actual axe.” “A guitar,” Xannon says, in disbelief that Chaos can really be this forgetful about things. Chaos grins at Xannon a moment, and then looks at his own broad axe. “Oh yes, I suppose you are correct for once. I will get something more suiting,” Chaos says with a smirk as he devours the axe, and pulls out a magic guitar. To be quite honest, Chaos had forgotten how to play the guitar. This is quickly remedied when he begins plucking the strings. He plucks the highest, and then the lowest strings. His smile slowly forms into a dark, razor-sharp grin as he quickly achieves a strong grasp as what to do with this strange object. Xannon chuckles with his deep, almost demonically-toned voice as he sees the other overlord fiddle around with his instrument. “Having fun down there?” Xannon says, towering over Chaos. “Indeed, it has been a fine day today.” “You ready?” “I do believe so,” Chaos initiates with a positive grin. “I would say it was nice knowing you Chaos, but I'm about to kick your ass and not feel a thing,” Xannon says as the ground around the two burst open to bring forth amps of ancient power. Chaos chuckles. “I would say the same. However, I am a gentleman, and only yell in the faces of people whom it is obvious I rule over,” Chaos says as he enters his guitar-playing stance. With that, from the gate floods out two groups of Xannon's minions; one to accompany Xannon, and the other to accompany Chaos. Order slowly undraws her bow, now relaxed enough to simply watch the exchange of extreme rock. There is a small silence of the red-skinned minions readying their weapons of rock, and Xannon begins. The reader would be well advised to put in their earphones for this tubular jam. *Sweet rising guitar without base accompaniment* *Drums go: “DOO DOO BOM TATTA TATTA DOM”* *Awesome lead by Xannon that forms into a stairway to hell with a radical straight A to begin the madness* *Guitar solo exits melody into massive wail-spree-into-dive-bomb* *Huge explosion behind Xannon with a hang on the end-note* “Beat that, ya damn weakling!” Xannon taunts as he drives his guitar into the dirt as if it were a sword, creating a mighty crash. Chaos shrugs. “As you wish,” Chaos animates with his jaws as he raises a dark, blacker-than-pitch claw for playing. This is, regrettably, where the narration of this event must skip over something – Chaos' playing. The only language to rightfully express the extreme majesty and skill in which he played would be that of the language of music, and this novel is not a music sheet. So please quit crying, reader. Perhaps, if this story were to ever be taken into the medium of a movie or something similar in which music could be rightfully expressed, the reader could then understand the magnitude of Chaos' shredding prowess, but not today, dear reader, not today. After the 30 seconds of the combining of time and space through music had ended, Xannon drops his guitar in disbelief as his own minions bow to Chaos in reverence. “I- . . . No, impossible! There's no way that another overlord could beat me at my own damn game! I swear on Universe's apathy Chaos: I'll make you pay for out-rocking me!” Xannon says as he kicks over his axe, reaches into the portal, and pulls out an actual axe of war, the kind Chaos is more familiar with. Chaos busts a sick solo with his pinkie finger and his right antennae. “Seems that I am the rightful vector . . . *ehem,* victor! I believe the price of an overlord losing a rock-battle against a fellow overlord is that of enservement through honor?” Chaos says, referring to an ancient code that overlords long past used to abide by. The problem, however, is that while Chaos was old enough to be in the time when that code between overlords was active, it is no-longer, and Xannon is only six-thousand years old, at most. “Code? I don't think so, prick! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!” Xannon says as he raises his arm to his minions. “MINIONS!” Xannon begins in a rumbling, wrathful tone. The minions of Xannon, after a bit of hesitation, quickly stand in salutation. “AID ME IN MY FIGHT AGAINST THIS ROCK AND ROLL CRETAN! MAY HIS JAMS NEVER BE HEARD OF AGAIN!” Xannon rages with burning jealousy toward his fellow Overlord. Chaos grins. “Not honoring the code, then? . . . Oh yes, now that I think about it other overlords have been acting strangely for the past few weeks . . . I wonder why.” “YOU STUPID OLD OVERLORD! THEY STOPPED FOLLOWING THE CODE OVER SEVEN-THOUSAND YEARS AGO!” “Oh my! . . . Order, is this quite true?” Chaos asks, grin still across his deadly face. Order nods. “Yes, Chaos. The honor code between overlords has not been heeded for about seven-thousand years,” Order explains, keeping a steady grip on her bow-string. Chaos pauses a moment, and shrugs. “How peculiar . . . oh well. It does not matter all that much. Xannon,” Chaos addresses. “YES?” Xannon replies, power level slowly passing the nine-thousand mark due to his great rage. “I still bested you. Code or not, I am over y-” “NO YOU'RE NOT! OVERLORDS BASE EVERYTHING BY STRENGTH, AND I'LL KILL YOU WITH MINE RIGHT NOW!” Xannon yells as his minions quickly enter combat positions around Chaos. The Black-White overlord shakes his head in some type of shame. “If that is your desire, I will grant your wish, stupid minion,” Chaos says as he drops his guitar, and draws out the Kingdom Slayer. Xannon rages with the fury of a thousand unpleasant holiday buyers at a customer service desk, and leaps at Chaos with Xannons' mighty axe, called “DeathStroke,” poised to kill. Order quickly shoots off her bolt into Xannon's eye as the minions rush to Chaos. The bearer of the Kingdom Slayer jots back in front of Order, acting as her bulwark. The advancing minions violently throw their weight at the overlord, only to be instantly lacerated by Chaos in his first strike. One slash from his sword cleaves through five of the minions, quickly getting across the message that they are fighting for a lost cause. Xannon's minions quickly turn tail and dash back into the portal as Xannon recovers from the arrow to his face. The Crimson Overlord roars in anger and looks to his minions, rushing back into the portal. “COWARDS! COME BACK!” Xannon yells at his minions, quite ignoring their master. Xannon lets out a growl, sounding as if hell had just split open, and turns to his two foes. Grim, shining-white teeth flash as Xannon scowls. Chaos grins back, black jaws, ranging up his face comically. “I DON'T NEED THEM! I'LL KILL YOU BOTH MYSELF!” the bleeding overlord says as he raises his axe back up. Chaos and Order are quiet; Order, as she is quite serious; Chaos, as he wants to wait before he says something else that is awesome and badass. Xannon scoffs at their silence, caring little about talking to them, and swings his weapon at Chaos. With an instant snap of movement, Chaos ripostes Xannon in his leg and Order looses another bolt into the face of her enemy. Order, her preference being the sword, but having practiced in bows since she was a young girl, has impeccable aim. This new arrow flies straight into Xannon's other eye, effectively blinding him. Xannon squeals in the pain of having both of his eyes put out, and tears out the arrow. “I SWEAR, STOP SHOOTING ME IN THE FACE, DAMMIT!” Xannon whines with extreme volume as he wipes the blood from his face, just in time to block Chaos' next strike. Xannon is certainly a very large figure, and could overpower just about anything, with the exception of Chaos who, though of fairly normal human stature, has more strength than a dragon. The two weapons collide, causing a *CHING* sound that is very pleasing to the antennae of Chaos; he really does enjoy fighting, after all. The two exchange strikes at rapid speed, each chop able to rend a fully-grown tree as if it were paper. As the two fight it out in close, Order unloads dozens of arrows into Xannon, each one aimed perfectly at the head. Xannon, who is far too confidant for his own good, made little mind to dodge the projectiles flying into his face. It is only twenty seconds into the fight that the blinded overlord realizes that those random jolts of pain are not by Chaos' immense speed, landing a strike every second, but Order, who can hit accurately from afar. The Crimson Lord of Screams throws a divisive jab at Chaos and gains some distance as Order continues to loose arrow-after-arrow from her bow. Xannon roars in anger as he turns his back to the barrage of arrows. He cannot kill Chaos when he is constantly being shot up by Order, and there is no way he could get past Chaos to finish Order first. Xannon will have to take drastic measures. With a dramatic turn and wave of his hand, Xannon focuses the power of all of his armies, and all of his minions into himself. The power of the overlord's empire of blood rush into him, and with a renewed laugh, his manliness gauge increases astronomically. Xannon finishes being impressive, and moves into the territory of being phenomenally badass and awesome. Obviously, he bursts into flames first, showing Chaos and Order that he has reached a new level of power. Secondly, his muscles get bigger than those of a Spiralkandrin death cougar. Lastly, his hair would turn yellow or something stupid like that, but Xannon is just to manly to be belittled by silly hair. Instead, his face just bursts into even more fire. Order keeps shooting bolts, but the un-earthly levels of manliness and strength exuding from his body is far too great and instead diverts the next arrow back at Order. It took her by surprise, and Chaos thought it would be ironic and funny, so he lets it hit her. The magic bolt certainly has a much more visible effect on Order than it does on Xannon. She is instantly knocked back several yards, sizable dent in her armor as she flies through the air to kiss the dirt. Xannon laughs at the lack of skill off his adversaries, and proceeds to crack his knuckles, each crack sounding quite like a small explosion. The giant overlord begins his advance to Chaos, who is beginning to think that, even though it was really hilarious, perhaps letting Order get hit by her own arrow might have been a bad idea. Chaos quickly leaps back to Order, face-down in the warm Fairy Kingdom soil, and turns her over. The Black Overlord observes from his inspection that all that was caused from the impact was a slight of internal bleeding; honestly, Order can be such a drama queen. As Xannon enters a dash to the two, Chaos pulls a dazed Order up to a stand, regaining her bearings for the fight. “Monument,” Chaos says concisely as he turns from her to their foe, knowing well that being eloquently spoken will have to wait when there is a giant super-overlord rushing toward you. Without a word from her mouth, Order reaches to her dimensional hilt and draws out Monument, the sword of Chaos' greatest bane. It was said to have been imbued with the power of Sun herself, made for the distinct purpose of destroying Chaos; or, at least that is what Order thought it was for. However, over the time from when she received the blade, her outlook on its use has developed considerably. Though she would prefer to defeat Chaos with the mighty blade, she has so far in her life been unsuccessful, so she usually just extends her energy and swordsmanship to killing jerks like Xannon. That said, she is much less motivated to kill Chaos nowadays. The Crimson Giant dashes toward Chaos and Order with his axe poised to destroy them both with his intense manliness, and to a lesser extent his axe. The moment he brings down his weapon, he is met with a joint strike by the two of them, both forcing their own blades against his, and blocking his attack with ease. Chaos could have sworn he had something for moments like this, but he has seems to have forgotten . . . . It was “*something* shift!” he recalls, but he is not sure what that first word is in the magic technique. Chaos, about as forgetful as he's always been ever since he became Chaos, decides not to stress his mind on it much, and simply concentrates on the fight instead. Xannon is undeterred as he quickly re-stances and makes a slash at the side. Chaos, having to make up for Order's slow, inferior, smelly human body, leaps to the side of the strike to again clash blades in tandem with her. Xannon strikes again and again at the overlord and the knight. Each of his attacks, however, are repelled with equal resolve from his enemies. Xannon growls in anger. It is as if Chaos and Order had worked together before; as if they both knew one another so well that they can, in thought, read the other's moves. Xannon, with a fury unseen in this dimension for many years, wails his axe against the two continuously, gaining speed until finally Order's guard breaks. Order may be the best human swordsman in all of the Western Kingdoms on Earth #13, but she is only the best human swordsman. Order is sent flying by the weight of Xannon's extreme strike, her armor rent from the massive impact. Chaos does not go to check if Order is alright, making another mistake in his fight. Xannon, euphoric for just a fraction of a second because of his success, is distracted just long enough for Chaos to exploit his attention. Chaos dashes through Xannon's guard, being a good deal smaller than him, and strikes him quickly with the Kingdom Slayer. Chaos' cut is very fast, so fast that Xannon cannot see it, and it does not appear to draw much blood. Xannon feels the pain, but as his manliness is so high at this point, he does not react upon it. He quickly punches Chaos at close range, sending him flying over to Order. Chaos does not lose his grip on the Kingdom Slayer even after such a hit, but from the punch, Chaos now has a crack in his perfectly dark outer shell. His black shell pressurizing the rest of his body, the crack releases much of this pressure, and Chaos begins spewing his white blood all over the field. It looks pretty cool, in case the reader was wondering, but even so, it is not a good thing. Xannon laughs as Order struggles to get to her feet and Chaos stumbles around as gallons of his blood spray out and about. “NOW THAT I THINK MY DOMINANCE HAS BEEN MADE CLEAR, I THINK IT IS ABOUT TIME THAT I FINISHED YOU- OH; WANT SOME MORE, DO YOU?” Xannon asks, interrupting his previous sentence seeing Order get up with Chaos, who is regaining his balance. Chaos still has a smile on his face, and Order, whose helmet was torn off from Xannon's strike, still has just as much resolve in her mood-colored eyes as ever. Xannon, burningly amazing, shrugs and raises his axe to finish off his two strangely unvexed opponents. He would have leapt forward, smashed Order to a pulp, and then entered a long smack down with Chaos. He would have won, that is, if Chaos were not as skilled as he is. Xannon quickly becomes aware of a deep, almost voiding feeling in his chest. Quickly looking down, he realizes that Chaos had out-cut his regenerative abilities, and struck a serious, internal blow with the Kingdom Slayer. Chaos had cut so fast, and so deep, that he had hit a vital artery. Just as the Crimson Overlord becomes aware of his wound, it gushes blood of the same color he is known for. Xannon looks up to Chaos, who is laughing maniacally. “. . . NO . . . I DIDN'T . . . I didn't even notice,” says Xannon as he crouches down in pain. Chaos' smile turns into the wide, sharp, dominating grin that he is so well known for, and steps up to Xannon. “Of course you did not, you were too busy being proud of yourself for landing a strike on Order to notice. Perhaps if you were even half as smart as I am, you would have noticed and could have saved your life,” Chaos says as he stares his foe in the eyes. Suddenly the look of fear on Xannon's grim face turns to anger. “I may be done for, but I'll take you two with me!” Xannon yells as he quickly places his hands on the ground. An immense spell-circle appears below him, and outstretches elegantly to the edge of the clearing. Chaos does not quite remember what this particular magic symbol represents, but Order quickly realizes it as the primary symbol for “exploding and killing everyone like a boss.” Telling from a second-long glance at Order's shocked expression, Chaos quickly tells that in the next few seconds this entire clearing is going to be dust. The Dark Overlord and the Royal Knight, with thoughts in no other place at the moment, both strike at Xannon with bullet-like speed. Chaos, for the sake of entertainment, and Order, out of fear for her life, both thrust their blades in tandem at the throat of Xannon. He will never speak again.With his final moment, Xannon fires a glare of pure hatred to Chaos, just as the last quarts of blood pulsating through his veins run dry and silent. The spell-circle disappears, and the suicidal spell has been prevented. With a victorious chuckle, Chaos kicks Xannon across the face, and poises his sword at Order. Order, seeing that Chaos still wants to fight, holds her ground and raises her own sword. “With that over, I suppose our little truce is quite done,” the victorious overlord says as he walks forward. Order trembles in weakness; Chaos is covered in his own blood, but he looks perfectly ready to do the fight all over again. Maybe she should have just let Xannon cast his spell . . . no; no silly magic trap could ever kill Chaos. He is above those arcane explosion tricks, his body could survive just about anything. Chaos raises his sword to attack, but quickly falls on his knees the moment following. A few attempts at getting back to his feet pass, and he sighs. “Not that a truce is a particularly bad thing,” Chaos says with a grin as he takes a seat near Order among the wreckage of the necromancer guild and the giant corpse of their enemy overlord. The Mastress of Light stares at her foe for awhile. “I guess not,” she says as she takes a seat across from him. The giant living mansion, still blazing in a fury, makes for a very becoming setting for the two as they sit across one another next to Xannon's large body. Neither are really in any condition to fight. Chaos has bled too much, and Order has received a wound from an enchanted weapon, something that cannot be healed easily with the standard healing magic. The two, after a bit of awkward staring on Order's part, and a bit of fanciful laughter on Chaos', begin to talk. “So . . . anything new?” Order asks to the murderer of her lover and child, thousands and thousands of years ago. She has, obviously, become a good-deal more comfortable around him. Chaos grins. “Talking to an idiot, I suppose,” the master swordsman responds. Order makes a mixed expression, both a bit charmed by Chaos' humor, and a bit offended by his meaning. “How about yourself?” Chaos questions, acting as interested as possible. “Nothin' much, this has been a pretty long day for me.” “Has it now?” “Well, yeah, after all of this fighting I would think it should.” “Ahh, I see. Well I suppose a weak human can only push themselves so far,” Chaos says as he stretches in relaxation. This phrase piques Order's interest, she has had a question on her mind for a good while, and now that she is with him, she can ask her question. “About that Chaos,” The Maiden of Light begins. “Yes?” “I've never thought to ask you: why do you do what you do?” “Being awesome?” “No, hurt and kill 'weak humans'?” “Ahh well . . . I regret to inform you, my stupid dear, that I do not quite remember.” “. . . You forgot?” “Well, yes. Is that a problem for you?” “No, well, yeah. You forget why you rampage throughout cities and kill uncountable amounts of soldiers?” “Yup, I will likely remember sometime later though. Ask me then, alright?” “Well . . . I'm not sure if we'll ever get to talk like this again.” “Oh, well I suppose that would be true. Perhaps if we were not fighting one day you could ask me then,” Chaos says, as if it were so simple. Order doubts a day will ever come when she will talk to Chaos as an equal again. One will always be hunting the other. “Okay Chaos, whatever you say,” Order responds, the question still itching in her mind. After that, the two of them talked about the recent happenings in the Western Kingdoms, food, and played a game of cards before Chaos was able to walk capably again. He decided not to kill her for some reason. Perhaps it was his honorable side showing from underneath, or perhaps it was because he was too excited about going home to his overlord tower and enjoying some tea. Order may never know. After Chaos got up and left, Order slowly did so herself, and began the slow trek back to the fairy kingdom, where she could then teleport home, with yet another interesting story to tell under her belt. TO BE CONTINUED A lovely little note from the author: Hello ladies, gentlemen, overlords and knights! Look at you! Reading a 99 cent novella all the way through! I'm just so proud of you! But that aside, I really do hope you enjoyed the story. As you would have (hopefully) guessed, it is not even close to over! You see, there are still 4-5 full novels to go! Exciting, right?! Yes, yes I know you can barely contain yourself. I know you are on the edge of your seat, or bed, or whatever, just dying to find out what happens with Greed's secret tea-party plan, but I actually need your help, so you must keep yourself together. You see, as of this novella being published, pretty much no one will know of my existence as a writer. Indeed, Kingdom Slayer is already out, but sometimes it is hard for people to commit monetarily to something that they have never experienced before. This is the primary purpose of this work. If you enjoyed what you read, please, tell others about it! I'm not talking about anything big or crazy, maybe just a casual mention or a quick little “countenancebook” status on the interwebs. Like this: “Just finished reading Party Slayer by R. N. Knight, definitely worth a read if you yourself are into super cool things that attractive people like.” There, something that simple and easy would prove very valuable in spreading the word about my writing, and would definitely increase the love that attractive people of the opposite gender feel for you. Well, you could already be married, so maybe your spouse will just love you even more . . . Or I suppose you could swing that way. . . . Oh? What's that? Oh, I had no idea! Well that's quite alright, I don't really care all that much; I just don't want to leave anyone out in saying that if you post a status supporting my novel, people will totally like you more! Totally not making this up! That said, come to my aid! Tell your friends, your family! Tell the Presidents and the Prime Ministers! TEAR OPEN THE SKIES AND PROCLAIM THE GREATNESS OF WHAT HAS BEEN MADE KNOWN TO YOUR EYES! YOU MUST SPREAD THIS GREAT PIECE OF TRA- *ehem* MASTERPIECE TO ALL WHO BREATHE THE COMMON AIR OF OUR PLANET! Well no, don't do that. I would be concerned about your mental well-being if you went around telling everyone about the adventures of Chaos, so try to find a balance if you possibly can. Shameless pleadi-- *ehem* Perfectly-reasonable-requests aside, I would love to hear from you! That's right! I like reading and responding to emails! Aren't I just the coolest writer on the block?! Let me know what you think of the story, be it lovely or not-so-lovely, at reynoldknight@gmail.com . If you happen to the the type of person who has trouble asking questions and enjoy yogurt much more than you should, I have prepared a few questions for you to reply to in your email! Is that not exquisite? -What do you aspire to be when you grow up? -Did you enjoy the story? -Who was your favorite character, story? -Are we human, or are we dancers? -What is your favorite food? -You have been showering everyday, right? -Royal knight of the Old Kingdom or overlord? How come? -Best line in story? -Current level of attraction towards Chaos? Those are just a few of the near-limitless amount of questions you can answer in your lovely little email! But hey, I'll even respond to questions as well. Gosh darnit, reader! I feel our reader-writer friendship power growing with every word you read. A matter of fact, it is getting to be so great, we're almost at the “grand plus” level of reader-author friendship power. That's pretty serious! Hmm, I guess that is about everything I really wanted to say . . . oh wait! I have a blog! You like reading stuff, right? And don't say no. Why else would you be reading this otherwise? . . . What's that? You say that I put you up to it?! Poppycock! I am a gentleman! A man of class! I would never . . . probably . . . put someone up to reading my work just for the sake of having someone reading! . . . maybe. Anyway reader, have you been doing well today? I sure hope so, because you're so fine. So yeah, dear reader, the blog is overlordpress.tumblr.com in case your interested. There are all kinds of cool stuff up there, like easy links to find other bits of my perfected, flawless, impossibly-perfect masterpieces of literature, more free stuff, and links to my countenancebook pages! Oh my! That said, dear reader, thank you for reading my “ranteries,” and have yourself a wonderful day. With much non-sexual love, R. Nathaniel Knight (A.K.A. “Radical Jam”) (P.S.:Like me on countenancebook and follow my blog. It will be grand!) (P.P.S.: Or maybe just do a little dance. Either would make me pretty happy.) (P.P.P.S.: The Duke of Whales is okay, don't worry.)