Joined: 20 Jan 2006
|Posted: Wed Apr 25, 2007 10:48 am Post subject: Horror on the Orient Express - the end
|And so it was, that after numerous struggles and adventures, Reverend Fellowes stood next to the broken and ruined remains of the Simplon-Orient Express in the middle of a cold and wet winter's night. All the companions who had set out from England with him had died, and he himself swayed gently upon unsteady feet. But the enemy was dead. The world was safe. And the simulacrum was in his hands.
A cough sounded behind Reverend Fellowes. The sound of it carried clear despite the rain, the screams of the few surviving passangers and the metallic screams of the wounded train. Fellowes turned to see his old advesary, the Duke of Assentes. Prince of a dream land and foul murderer of old.
Reverend Fellowes and those he had enlisted to help him did not kill the enemy on their own. They had needed the Duke's help. And that help did not come cheaply. The Reverend sighed. He wondered if the deal had been worth it.
Fellowes turned and looked the Duke in the eye. "You will keep your end of the bargain?", he asked. The Duke smiled. "Of course."
Fellowes doubted the Duke's words. But he had made a bargain with the devil, and now it was time to pay the price.
Without a word Fellowes handed the Duke the simulacrum. The Duke's eyes lit briefly with undisclosed glee and then he and the simulacrum vanished.
A soft sigh escaped from Fellowes lips. He looked around briefly but did not notice the violence and destruction around him. Instead his eyes settled upon a path into the woods at the side of the track. Snow began to fall and the moon escaped briefly from the clouds to illuminate a deep French forest. Fellowes' flesh was rotting upon him. His wounds were deep. He knew he did not have much time left.
One of Fellowes' most recent companions, a loud American named Don, clambered from the ruined first class compartment. He saw Fellowes walk towards the woods and called out to him. Fellowes did not respond.
One of the wounded passengers cried out in pain. Don looked away for a second, and when he turned back Fellowes was gone.
My favourite roleplaying memory - "Daisy at Colonus", two drunk cowboys and a pantomime cow in a 'reinterpretation' of Sophocles greatest play.