Stories
As The Quill Turns


by Lord Titan & ShadowMaker


Episode I Written by

Lord Titan & ShadowMaker

FADE IN: Cut to credits. Theme music plays.

Bass voice of announcer: As the sands of the hourglass fall, so are the days of our undead lives turning on the Statesman's quill as we have one life to suffer.

"We'll be back after this word from dissolvo, the one solvent guaranteed to remove bothersome flesh from bone, or your money back."

ACT I

FADE IN: In a cheap hotel bedroom, the mausoleum is trying to put his boots on. the bed lies in ruins, cheeze whiz canisters are scattered about the room. giant orange splashes of cheeze whiz may be seen everywhere. Suddenly, the door swings open. ANASTASIA enters the room.

ANASTASIA: Oh, Mausoleum, how could you? How could you leave my side to be with, with... Cheeze Whiz!

MAUSOLEUM: Stands, ignoring the finger that falls off his hand. He glares at Anastasia. And how much choice did you leave me? At least the Cheeze Whiz doesn't get on my case about using deodorant all the time! I have needs! I need my space!

ANASTASIA: Goes forward to Mausoleum and rests hands on his chest. Please, that's just the Cheeze Whiz talking. DarkWolf is in therapy for his toilet water problem. If he can do it, can't you?

MAUSOLEUM: Turns his back to Anastasia. Does it always have to be how wonderful DarkWolf is? I'm sick and tired of hearing about DarkWolf all the time!

ANASTASIA: You know he's only a friend. He could never mean as much to me as you do.

MAUSOLEUM: Grabs his cloak and stalks to the door. I'm outta here. You never loved me, and I never loved you. It was just a physical thing, baby. Why don't you go shack up with DarkWolf? That's what you've wanted all along!

MAUSOLEUM: Stalks out of the room and slams the door behind him. An empty can of Cheeze Whiz precariously balanced on the edge of a dresser falls to the floor.

ANASTASIA: Crying. But it's your little lich that I'm carrying!

FADE OUT

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The Hunt


by Andy Duffy

Prelude

He walks through the gap in the copse, a silent figure. Sweeping aside the thorny branches that block his way, oblivious to the scratches they draw down his arms, he spies a small clearing, despite the darkness. It's just as he remembers it, except, it seems so small, so unreal. He hunches down, examining the remains of an extinguished campfire. "Old" he whispers to himself. He jumps at the sound of his voice, so alien, yet so familiar. He'd almost forgotten that he could speak. He sits down against an old rock, though in his mind, it's THE old rock. A memory filters through his mind, until he can almost taste it.

"It began here," he says with a dawning realisation. "The seeds of the hunt were sown here".

The man, if that is what he truly is now, closes his eyes and in his mind he remembers his name. Not the name by which he lives now but the name given to him by his birth parents, over four hundred years ago. "Arizzas". It flows off his tongue, and he sits with an inane grin upon his drawn face.

"Oh my, whatever happened to you, Arizzas?" he asks himself aloud. Then his thoughts are gone and only a cold fear is left behind. Is this place safe? Will they find him? Will he find THEM? His instinct tells him that he should move on again but he feels his will, his hope has been sapped beyond care. He will rest here and see what the cold light of day brings.

He falls asleep, curled against the rock, a rock where he once sat with his lover. A rock upon which he was once betrayed by a friend. The rock where his lover died in his arms... His sleep is restless, with vivid dreams of lost love and promised revenge. And a dream of his beloved Avlee, the only true home he ever knew. The only home an Elf could ever want ... Even a Dark Elf.

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