A simple king

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« on: <07-24-13/2144:13> »
Full disclosure:  The character is my friend's earthdawn character that was (painstakingly) converted into shadowrun.  I wrote a short story on one of his games. let me know what you think!

Dio Namacriux let out a deep breath, trying to calm his mind and body.  Weeks had passed since he awoke from his pod to a strange new world, and it had only been half a day ago when he escaped from the menacing temple-like prison that held him and the pod.  He sat cross legged on the sidewalk of a haggard looking old building, underneath what looked to be a large irrigation pipe slowly flowing the drizzling rainwater down the ground below. Dio stared into the distance as tried to recall his memories and make sense of the few he did have, all while munching away at a strange (but tasty!) food.  It had what looked to be two pieces of a soft white bread (the type of which he had never seen before), with meat and cheese stuffed in between.  The meat tasted like pork and the cheese was melted, coating the thin plentiful slices of pork creating a creamy, smooth texture. Each time he bit into the square an explosion of salty pork and sharp cheese would rain down on his taste buds,making him crave more.  He had no idea where (or when) the hell he was, but he figured if all the food this strange place had to offer was going to be as good as this…

Well hell, Maybe I can get used to this.

As he slowly chewed this wondrous pork square, he gazed across the street and soaked in all the sights and sounds of the unfamiliar city around him.  He heard the soft whirring noise of what sleek looking mechanized carriages that whizzed by him on the road.  He then studied the large flashing neon signs hanging along the buildings.  They all seemed to be in a language that the locals here called “Spanish”, snd was about all he knew.  Unfortunately, he had no idea what any of them said as he only become familiar with the language merely hours ago, and could only decipher bits an pieces of it.  He was perplexed that no one here understood his “Tz’utujil” tongue.  He closed his eyes and tried to relax in an attempt to have more memories flow back to him.  Yet no matter how hard he tried, he was still left with the same fuzzy images that he had when he woke up. He did remember his kingdom, which stood amongst a vast, green jungle, and the great temples where his loyal subjects would praise his name.  He also remembered his martial arts training, and his techniques although he could not recall the name the actual style itself.  It was pure fortune when that memory finally came to him, as it was what finally enabled him to escape the metallic hell that kept him prisoner.  Despite this, he felt he knew many more techniques. He knew he had great power due to the fact that he was able to break large, heavy doors with only his bare fists, and concentrated quite hard for a hope that he could remember the rest of his techniques, Yet no matter how hard he concentrated, nothing new would come to him. He let out a deep sigh with a hope that time would eventually fill these gaps. In the mean time, he would just have to make to with what he did remember. 

He finished his pork square, and stood up and brushing the crumbs off of his navy blue pants.  He figured he may as well start walking. As to to wear he was going he had no idea, but he did not care as long as it was away from that rotten prison. So he walked and walked, straight and upright with his head held high, the brisk wind blowing against his short white hair.  It calmed his nerves. He passed through streets and alleys, walking by even more brightly colored signs that flashed bright, flamboyant colors in this odd “Spanish” language He glanced periodically at the locals on the street, the majority of whom seemed to be vagrants.  Dio didn’t to bother to move around anyone that was in his way, usually pushing right past crowds of people without much thought or regard to them, other then slight disgust and contempt at their shabbiness. In turn, the local populace would stop for a moment and stare at Dio’s muscular, six-foot-nine build.  Some would point at the gold plated armor vest he wore on his chest, as well as the mural of a large bird tattooed across his back. The art was strikingly well detailed, It’s most notable features were it’s pearl white colors with two black stripes across each of its wings, which were spread open, and its pointed head facing up as if it were descending to the heavens above. The Tail was a gentle peach color which contrasted with the sharp black which outlined the tail. The local’s seemed to whisper to each other about this design in their native tongue.

Dio himself noticed one particular word amongst all the signs he saw, “Tenochticlan”, and surmised that this was the name given to this strange city. He thought long and hard about this word “Tenochticlan,” to see if it rung any bells and found only large swell of anger bubbling up inside him.  What the hell kind of place was this “Tenochticlan” and why was he here? How is it that he understands no one and no one can understand him?  Was he on another planet? Was the pod a ship? And what in the gods’ name was he doing sleeping inside of it?  Just then, a curious sight pulled him away from his thoughts.  Two Men clad in natural looking red robes were walking on the sidewalk on the other side of the street conversing with each other. Dio glanced at them and realized that they look just like the priests from his kingdom.  He gave a loud and triumphant chortle, (oblivious to the passers by who were looking at him as if he were crazy), and made a mad dash to the other side of the street. 

My people are here!

Dio came up behind one of the Hooded men and placed his hand on his shoulders. “HOLD! Your king demands answers!” He said in his native “Tz’utujil” tongue.

The Man Jumped and and screamed.  Both men turned around and looked up to see and angry looking musclebound monster of a man.  The stepped back as the sized Dio up, both wearing a look of what seemed to be a mixture of awe and horror. Dio saw this smiled at the two men, elated that he finally found two people that seem to recognize his royalty. Dio spoke in softer but firmer voice, again in his native tongue, “Your King demands to know what happened to his Kingdom and what in the Gods’ name this place is?!”

The two robed men looked at each and exchanged words. In Spanish.  It was then Dio’s turnto express shock and horror. The sentiment fortunately was short lived, as the man whose shoulder Dio had tapped stepped forward and addressed Dio a semi-intelligible, but broken version of the glorious “Tz’utujil” language, “YOU! VAGRANT?! HOW. KNOW YOU?! ANCIENT TONGUE?!”

The words pierced Dio like a blade sharper than any that has ever been used against him.

VAGRANT?! ANCIENT tongue? What sort of insolence…

“H-how DARE YOU?! I AM NO VAGRANT! I AM KING! I…I AM YOUR KING AS A MATTER OF FACT!” Dio cracked his knuckles, “And I will NOT take such disrespect lightly, so I would change your tone if I were you!”

The men gasped at Dio’s words, and looked at each other, and exchanged a few more words in Spanish.   The other man gave a loud chuckle (which actually sounded more like a yelp) and held his hands up, “OH…OH YES!!! APOLOGIES! YES! YOU ARE KING. APOLOGIES…umm…uh…”

The first man finished the sentence, “Did…did not recognize…follow us please? We will take you. Come with please?”

“That’s more like it,” Dio proceeded to walk with the two following them down the street. Part of him suspected it might be a trap, but it was drowned by his overwhelming relief to hear other people speaking his language and wearing clothes that he actually recognized.  Besides, he just did not have it in him to face the first words that came out of the priests’ mouth.

Ancient tongue. Ancient. As in long ago. As in forgotten…


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« Reply #1 on: <07-24-13/2146:06> »
Dio tried clearing his head of such poison.  There was absolutely no way what those words implied were true.  His kingdom was fine.  It was surely just an erroneous word from the priest broken language, but then that just leads to another concern; why did the priest have such trouble with the language in the first place?

Enough! These are my people! They know me and that is that.  They acknowledge my tongue. If nothing else my subjects must be close!

Dio’s reassurances were not enough to allay his darkest worries.  A possibility that he shouldn’t be concerned where he was but when…

All of a sudden, the two hooded men stopped and thus Dio himself came to a halt.  He detached himself from his thoughts and looked around where he was.  It seemed to be a street of an ever grungier part of town (if that was even possible). It was completely empty, the only inhabitants being a slew of half working street lights and the various Trashcans(some upright, some knocked over) that littered the area. The pungent smell of rainwater mixed with trash pierced Dio’s nostrils.  Mercifully, it wasn’t overwhelming, at least not as much as the sense of foreboding that began to line Dio’s belly.

“Please,” The hooded man with the mustache said, “I get elder now. Tell him it’s safe. He come. He tells you everything.” With that, the two hooded men disappeared around the corner of a building. 

10 minutes passed as Dio stood alone.  His arms were crossed and we was about ready for something, anything to go down, good or bad.  He assured himself that the two men were going to be true to their word.  After all, they definitely carried themselves in that exact same ways as the priests did back at his kingdom.  As far as them speaking Spanish is concerned, He was sure that these two must have gone a sort of pilgrimage(priests do these types of things, right?) to this city and had to learn the local language.  They were probably here for so long, that they must have forgotten their native tongue.  Yes, that was it! That’s all it was, surely.  Those nonsense thoughts about Dio awakening in the future were just that. Merely thoughts and fears that he let run wild.  Dio silently chastised himself for behaving like a cowardly shrew, and letting his feelings get the best of him.  A true king, one that is destined by the Gods, has no room in his heart for such silly, womanly fears. Whoever and whatever came around that street corner would be the answer to all his concerns. After that, he would get in touch with his kingdom and hell, he might even call in his army to invade and conquer this wretched trash-hole, just for giving him such a headache.  He wold tear all these worthless structures down and replace it with beautiful temples and shrines to his majesty(built of course, by the unwashed, worthless peasants that resided here).  He laughed aloud at thought, and was filled with giddiness, his spirits higher than they have been ever since he lay foot in this wretched place. 

Dio’s newfound, happier thoughts were interrupted by a loud humming coming from behind him.  He turned suddenly and looked up to source of the noise and saw what looked to be one of those flying, horseless mechanical carriages that he saw earlier.  It was quite sleek with an onyx finish. The doors opened and and three people jumped down to the concrete below.  He recognized them instantly.  These men were from the prison temple and they were coming to get back what was lost to them.  There all wore silver, metallic armor and two of them had brandished these menacing looking black sticks with electricity flowing through them, similar to a staffs imbued with electricity, that sorcerers would use back at his kingdom.  But these sticks were different in that they had a constant flow of energy to them. He knew that one touch from these Satanic sticks would lay him right out. He roared at the sight of these things as they were tools used that kept him locked up in that hellish place for weeks.  Dio then heard the pattering of footsteps behind him. He turned to see the two hooded priests, coming back from around the corner of the building, with the “elder” they promised, who actually turned out to be another guard dressed the same as the three guards that jumped from the car.  The two priests held both their respective palms up, and they were crackling with energy. The priest on the left smiled as he balled one his glowing hands into a fist. “You are surrounded. Lie down. Now.”   

Dio grimaced at this dreadful (but not completely unexpected) betrayal as he noticed two alleyways on both sides of the street.  He could possibly run into one and lead chase, and if he was smart enough he could find a place to hide… 

Dio laughed loudly to himself and shook his head in disbelief. He then gazed sternly at the priest who had the gall to insinuate that a king should lie down, “The last thing your idiot friends will see before their deaths will be your mutilated corpse.” 

Dio cracked his knuckles. He wasn’t really sure how was going to deal with six foes armed with these strange powerful weapons. But it was alright. He welcomed this test with great enthusiasm.  Dio ran full speed towards the priest who dared to address him,  “MY NAME IS DIO NAMACRIUX, BUT YOU MAY CALL ME YOUR KING!”

His blazing speed and loud roar completely caught his foes off guard, so much so that one of the men at the opposite end of the street tripped and fell on his rump . As for Dio’s target, he raised his enregized palm and readied his attack but…

“CHOK!” Dio roared as he piston-ed his right hook exactly one inch into the gut of his enemy, it’s explosive power rippling the priests’ insides and sending him skittering 25 feet across the street his body scuffing to an eventual halt.  To Dio’s dismay, the broken man was still conscious, but in extreme pain, clutching his chest, bleeding from his nose and howling uncontrollably. Still,  Dio couldn’t help but be pleased at the message he sent, as he saw the others recoiling in horror at their comrade, possibly wondering how on earth a punch to the gut could do so much damage.  This hesitation from his foes was all time Dio needed as he he ran to his next target, in the threesome, the electric stick wielder, “NOW FOR MY LEFT HAND!”

Dio gleefully swung a meaty left hook towards the head of his next victim but hit only air. 

What?! Dio thought as his would be target ducked the punch range out to a safe range, How did he dodge that!?

The priest started chuckling and raised his palm towards Dio, chanting something in a language that was neither Spanish, nor was The King’s tongue, but was still eerily familiar. A blue ball of energy formed in the priest’s palm as Dio braced himself, suddenly remembering whatever being that ball touches will be stunned but not killed.

I shall perish before they EVER take me back there!

The blue energy ball fired from the priests palm like a cannon, flying towards the proud king at a high speed. Dio tumbled to his left, barely missing the stun ball as it hurtled on, dinging a blue box instead, knocking it off its hinges and sending it into a brick wall, shattering into pieces and creating a mini storm of what looked to be millions of pieces of paper that fluttered down to the ground like snow.  While this was going on, the other, gravely wounded priest managed  to stand on his own two feet, coughing up blood and muttering in anger to himself in Spanish.  He outstretched his arms making a cross.  A faint blue glow emanated from his body as he lifted off the ground.

“NO!” Dio exclaimed in frustration as he saw the man lift higher and away away from the scene. “Don’t you DARE run from your fate, COWARD!!”

The floating priest did not seem to acknowledge Dio’s fit as he turned and briskly floated away, vanishing into the bright, pastel horizon of the city skyline.  Dio was beside himself with rage, and turned to a crackling sound behind him.  It was the other priest, readying another stun ball.  Dio was going to have none sillyness. He made another full charge at the priest his right hand cocked back.

“I have had just about enough of you AND your cowardly magic, you little shit! CHOK!” Dio fist rammed into the priest gut sending him soaring through the air, just like his friend. This priest however, was not as lucky.  He slammed back-first into a brick wall, his spine holding up about as well as the that blue box full of paper. A loud CRACK! Echoed through the street.  He bounced off the wall, leaving a significant indent on it, and limply fell to the concrete ground at Dio’s feet.  The man with the electric stick ran at Dio ready to strike. With both his hands, the started bring the stick down in overhead strike, but was interrupted haymaker to his face, courtesy of the self-proclaimed king. He flew back into that same wall, shattering the back of his skull and making a fresh indent right to the one made by the priest.  His lifeless body fell right next to unconscious priest, who was bleeding out. Dio cracked his knuckles and laughed.

During all this, the three guards on the other side of street advanced cautiously to make sure they would not meet the same end as their comrades.  They whispered to each other as they crept, seeming to formulate a plan to tame this raging giant.  Dio looked at them with laughter placing his foot on the chest of the dead guard. “You must desire death, as well! I dare you all to walk another step!”

Suddenly the three stopped about 10 feet away from Dio, seeming as if they had come to their senses and actually heeded his warning, despite the language barrier.  He cracked his knuckles once more, as a toothy grin spread across his face.

Then out of nowhere, a guard pulled out a silver colored stick.  It was L-shaped, with his and gripping the short end and pointing to long end towards Dio.  Dio’s smiled turned into shock.  He knew what this was and what it could do to him.  He ran into these back at his prison.  He also knew at this range he would not be able to reach these people before the guard put him down with the projectile that fire from this deadly boom-stick.

“What?…F-FIGHT FAIR!!” Dio whined. The cry fell on deaf ears as the guard fired two blast from the boom-stick.  Dio tumbled to his right and cleared the shots easily. Unfortunately, the second guard had a boom-stick of his own, and fired two shots as well.  The first shot hit Dio square in his chest, plinking against his armor and falling harmlessly to the ground.  Dio tried to tumble away from the second shot but caught bullet in his thigh. He fell to the ground, howling in pain and looking down at his wound.  The shot must have punctured something vital, as there was a constant stream of blood flowing from his thigh.  Dio’s pain was overpowered by his embarrassment. Could such a simple prick to the thigh become the end of a Great King? It was madness!

The third man stepped forward, raising both his palms toward Dio, his hand crackling with electricity lighting up his hardened, scarred face.  He spoke a few words of Spanish. Dio did not understand him, but it sounded like he was being taunted.  Dio gasped in pain as he tried to get up, but his blood thigh conspired against him, permitting him only be able to rise on one knee. He just needed a couple of seconds to think…there was perhaps a chance he could…

The electricity slammed into Dio’s being like a hammer.  He screamed in pain, taking the full brunt of the attack.  To his credit he maintained his composure, kneeling on his one good knee, although he wasn’t sure how long he could keep it up, as each agonizing, electrifying second felt like a good minute.  After what seemed like an eternity, the electricity finally stopped, and Dio managed to his composure, his body scorched black and smelling of burnt flesh.  His sense were dulled and he could not feel anything but a burnt taste in his mouth. Still, his mind still intact, and he praised the gods for that.  He looked up at the three men approaching him, keeping the same careful pace they had before,  Still pointing their weapons at him. Dio looked down at the body of the dead guard beside him, and gritted his teeth.

The guards probably made it about five or six fee when they noticed Dio slumping his shoulders.  The men stopped and look at each other, wondering if the brute had finally used up the last of his fighting spirit.  They quickened their pace towards the charred, kneeling man, only to witness him grabbing the dead guard by his armor and pitching him towards the group as hard as he could, like a fastball. His pained roar echoed through the empty street.  One of boom-stick wielders instinctively dodged out of the way, while the second boom-stick wielder, surprised by Dio’s rash action, tried to fire at the body that hurtled towards him, but was too late.  He felt the dead body crash into him with a dull thud, the impact knocking him out stone cold.  The other boom-stick man took aim with his weapon while the Scar-faced gaurd with electric powers laughed at the whole spectacle. Dio saw the smug looks in their faces, his only response to the attackers being to kneel back down to the ground with his hands over his head. The move visibly shocked his foes(and from what Dio could guess possibly delighted them), but Dio did not care anymore.  He had bet all he that the body would be able to take all three of them out.  Unfortunately, the only thing his “Hail Mary” managed to do was let these men know that he had no way of attacking them from a distance.  Dio’s spit on the ground and gazed at his attackers with a look of death.  “You win, cowards!”

The men may not have understood exactly what Dio said, but they seemed to have gotten the general message and advanced towards him, their weapons primed.  The spoke to him firmly in their foreign tongue, but Dio did not even bother to try and decipher what they were saying. His blurred vision painted them as silver coated phantoms, hell bent on preventing him from fulfilling his destiny.  He closed his eyes and listened.  Apparently, the rain had finally stopped and the winds were now calm. He tuned out the two mens’ imbecilic chattering and focused his ears on the dull clamoring of their footsteps.  Their scurrying reminded him of scared rodents trying to find their way into hiding after being discovered eating the crumbs that fell from the dinner table.  He laughed silently at the thought, and a peaceful smile spread across his face. He opened his eyes and saw his two attackers within a couple feet of him.

The two men were not prepared for what happened next. One moment, the giant was sitting with his hands over his head, resigned to his fate. The next instant he was right in front the man with the boom-stick, tapping him on his head with merely his index and middle finger, causing him to instantly crumple to floor.  Dio caught him, and propped him up as a human shield. The scar-faced man with the electric hands screamed in Spanish and held his palm up.  Dio tried to address him in Spanish, and intended to warn him that if he came any closer, he would snap this man’s neck.  Unfortunately, he was only able to stammer out a couple of words, “DO..DOBLAR…HORCHA…TA!”

The scar-faced man looked at Dio sideways as if he was looking at someone possessing mental deficiency, and Dio’s face turned a bright crimson in responded.  The scar-faced man then fired torrents of electricity towards both men. Dio dropped the paralyzed man and jumped out of the way to his left(He didn’t want to take the chance landing on his inured right leg), feeling a second wind coming over him. The scar-faced man then took out his electric stick, and ran at Dio at full speed, ready to strike.  Dio was relieved to see this.  This pock-mark riddled man has a threshold for how much he can wield his cowardly magic, and wanted to end the fight quickly.  That was perfectly fine, as that was what Dio wanted as well. 

The man swung his electric stick in a horizontal arc.  Dio jumped back, effortlessly avoiding the desperate attack, and returned with right straight, square into ugly man’s face.  Scar-face stumbled backwards and fell on top of his back, his electric stick clattering to the ground with a dull thud.  Dio limped towards his fallen opponent and tapped the scar-face’s forehead with the same two fingers as before.  “HNGGH!” The fallen man gasped and lay frozen.

“Ha! that should keep you to from bothering me!” Dio chuckled to himself as he scanned his two fresh victims. “Of course in a few minutes, you will both have control over your motor functions again, and I’m quite confident that you will be after me once more with everything you have,” Dio cricked his neck, “I have great respect people who do not quit in their ambitions. But at the same time, I have great irritation with pests. Nasty little things, mice, roaches, creepy-crawlies. Make my blood just boil, they do!  You know, my Mother… a true saint she was…no matter how bothersome or icky the creature, she would always cup it in her dainty little hands, walk outside and, without fail, gently place her hands to the earth to see it off in the wild. Every. Single. Time. I could never understand why she ever bothered, I mean they would always come back, and she would just put them back. Into the trees, back in our home, back to the trees back in our home. Over and over and over… may the Gods bless her heart. ” 

Dio bent to one knee leaning Mr. Scar-face, and peered into his fear-filled eyes. A large, toothy grin spread across Dio’s face.

“Since my mother isn’t here, how about I show you how I deal with MY pest problems?”

Red Canti

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« Reply #2 on: <08-07-13/0435:53> »
This Dio is an interesting character. On the one hand I like him. On the other hand, I like watching him suffer.

Damn good story.
"Always Trust Mr. Johnson, always. Just make sure he knows he'd regret betraying that trust."


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« Reply #3 on: <06-08-15/1907:36> »
Can't imagine how I would deal with waking up thousands of years in the future… Nice character, sure hope there's more!