Memoirs of a RAFian

[redtailedsaffa]

That's one expletive I would gladly use.

[Cloak]

And the next chapter's in my last post.

[redtailedsaffa]

Don't piss off your brother. It never usually ends well. Of course, I don't have one, but still.

[Cloak]

Well, neither do I. Anyway, Memoirs is two!

And I have a couple of book ideas -- I hope I haven't rehashed anything.

• Book CCXXXVII: "Game Over" -- Three RAFians get trapped in a video game.
• Book CCXXXVIII: "No More RAFians" -- A powerful reality-bending witch eliminates RAF, and turns all its members into human, except Cloak, who is trapped in some sort of reality prison.
• Book CCXXXIX: "Something, Something Darkseid" -- Cloak battles an enhanced Darkseid, and doesn't hold back.

Again, I hope I didn't rehash anything. Chapter laterish.

[redtailedsaffa]

Game Over might sound similar to RAF Comix in some ways, but that was in a comic book while this is in a video game. There are differences.

Anyway, happy birthday, Memoirs! Two years of epicness. Thank you Cloaky for everything.

[Cloak]

You're welcome, Saffa, my Archiver. Believe me, I get as much enjoyment out of writing it as you do reading it.

And "Game Over" is different from "RAF Comix" as there are elements of "Spy Kids 3" in it, if not a direct p-- er, that might be revealing too much.

CHAPTER THREE:
Poor Unfortunate Souls

Shenecron stormed away from his half-brother. He knew when he threw in his lot with those goody-goody RAFians that he'd go soft. But no need to worry about that now. He had a client coming, which reminded him.

His form shifted from his natural skeletal to an emaciated, bald, old man swaddled in a red tunic with yellow trim. He was enticing a teenaged Pisciss Volann to get what he wanted. She had fallen for a human, Eric Prince. He was cleverer than Demos gave him credit for.

"The only way you can get what you want," he said, not at looking at her, his back turned, "is to become a human yourself."

"Can you do that?" she said in a small voice.

Shenecron smiled as he turned and said, "My dear, that is what I do. Helping poor folks, like yourself. Poor souls with no one else to turn to."

Then the song started up.

"I admit that in the past I've been a nasty.
They weren't kidding when they called me, well, a witch.
But you'll find that nowadays,
I've mended all my ways.
Repented, seen the light, and made a switch.

(True? Yes.)

And I fortunately know a little magic.
It's a talent that I always have possessed,
And here lately, please don't laugh.
I use it on behalf
Of the miserable, lonely and depressed.

(Pathetic)

Poor unfortunate souls.
In pain, in need!
This one longing to be thinner.
That one wants to get the girl.
And do I help them? Yes, indeed.

Those poor unfortunate souls!
So sad, so true!
They come flocking to my cauldron,
Crying, "Spells, Shenecron, please!"
And I help them? Yes, I do!

Now it's happened once or twice.
Someone couldn't pay the price,
And, I'm afraid, I had to rake 'em 'cross the coals.
Yes, I've had the odd complaint.
But on the whole I've been a . . . a saint,
To those poor unfortunate souls!"

Then the two discussed the terms, with Shenecron dominating the conversation. Shenecron stated that she had three days, three Earth days, to get Eric to kiss her, a kiss of true love. But if she fails, she reverts back and Shenecron claims her soul.

And then he states his fee is her voice. But when she attempted to protest, he sang:

"The men up there don't like a lot of blabber!
They think a girl who gossips is a bore!
Yes, on land, it's much preferred
For ladies not to say a word,
And after all, dear, what is idle prattle for?

Come on, they're not all that impressed with conversation!
True gentlemen avoid it when they can!
But they dote and swoon and fawn
On a lady who's withdrawn!
It's she who holds her tongue who get's her man!

Come on, you poor unfortunate soul!
Go ahead! Make your choice!
I'm a very busy old man, and I haven't got all day.
It won't cost much. Just your voice!

You poor unfortunate soul!
It's sad, but true!

If you want to cross the bridge, my sweet, you've got the pay the toll.
Take a gulp and take a breath, and go ahead and sign the scroll!
The boss is on a roll!
THIS POOR! UNFORTUNATE! SOUL!

She signed the scroll, and Shenecron turned her human, as well as taking her voice. The contract was ironclad can could not be revoked. In three days time, she failed. Shenecron claimed her soul. Then he looked for the next sucker to make a deal.

[Gaz]

I just got Poor Unfortunate Souls from iTunes yesterday! Good stuff.

[redtailedsaffa]

I sang it in my head.

[Cloak]

The next chapter will probably not have a song adaptation in it, unless, perhaps, if I find one that fits. But I probably won't be able to post it until tomorrow.

And here it is . . . probably gonna be riddled with typos and grammatical errors, as I am quite tired. May be short, as well.

CHAPTER FOUR:
A Bannedland Discovery

Shenecron* wandered, ditching the old, emaciated man disguise. He looked more like a Sigma looked in "Mega Man X4" with a tattered robe pinioning his arms to his sides. His eyes glowed maliciously with all his malefic power. He was actually Demos's older half-brother, and Demos never demonstrated this.power, although apparently Demos had the ability to possess cows**.

He surveyed the Bannedlands, the utter wasteland that exhiled former RAFians, now called Banned, reside. There were trolls here, who had naturally made this horrid, bleak, dusty, lifeless wasteland home. Then when the first Banned showed up, they overthrew the trolls' primitive government -- being rather generous with the term -- and put themselves in charge as a noble class, with the simple-minded trolls as a slave or serf class.

Shenecron rubbed his chin as he considered. He could see the clear boundary line that separated the Bannedlands from RAF's old location (before Cloak moved it), a distinct division of lush forest with arid wasteland. As if someone used a straight edge on it. Shenecron considered and pindered. Surely, someone in the wasteland would be eager to sign a deal. The place reeked of desperation and poverty.

Shenecron observed the trolls from a prudent distance, and bore witness to how condescendingly, how expendably, how disregarded they were all treated. But all seemed unware and indifferent, even content, with such treatment. They clearly either knew nothing else, could not imagine anything better, or were really stupid.

Shenecron blinked as he saw two trolls hitting another with two solid logs with the diameter of a small drum. The one in the middle, the one being hit, guffawed stupidly.

Okay, maybe all three. Perhaps he was mistaken, perhaps there wasn't a soul here that he could connive or con away from the unwitting trolls. Yes, he could trick or manipulate them with ruthless ease, but that, in and of itself, was a problem. If he removed the challenge from outthinking his would-be clients was half the fun. These trolls were just too easy, and he wasn't sure if trolls had souls to begin with. Like most lawyers.***

Then he happened to notice one troll, one troll that caught his eye. He clearly was a rare troll witha mind more complex then his fellows, but still incurably childish. Unlike the others, he alone questioned the Banned supremacy, their reign. As such, the Banned . . . turned him into a janitor? Clearly, it was the worst, most demeaning thing the Banned could think of for this type troll, this ProudToBeATroll (Proud, for short), to do.

Obviously, they weren't a very imaginative bunch, because the tasks weren't too bad. Proud did the jobs given without complaint, but still questioned why he had to be subservient to the Banned. Why he had to.follow their orders. What made them so special?

Shenecron smirk sinisterly. He could work with troll, this Proud. . . .

---
*Pronunced as "shen-neck-crawn".

**Referencing Demos's schtick when chat got too quiet.

***Yes, it was an easy joke.

[Cloak]

New chapter methinks.

CHAPTER FIVE:
Tempting the Troll

Shenecron saw his chance, and he took it. He kept his disguise as he approached the troll, mopping up some brackish muck from the ground. It was . . . It was more prudent not to describe any further than "foul". Proud was muttering to himself.

Shenecron was now close enough to get a good look at the troll. The dragon demon (although his disguise was definitely, certainly humanoid) thought that he would not win any beauty contests. He was big, burly with ample amounts scarred skin showing, but nothing lewd was exposed. He had a gaping, square jaw, a bald head, slightly pointed ears, beady black eyes, bulbous nose, and huge hands and feet in portportion to his body size. He also possessed . . . quilled warts?

He grumbled, "Why do I always get the worst jobs? Why do they get to be in charge? If it was me --"

"What IF it WAS you, my lad?" Shenecron said, from behind him. Proud jumped so much, he dropped the mop with an embarrassing clatter. He seized it and turned round. Shenecron spoke conversationally, as if there was no interruption, "It could be so, you know. You can be top dog. You can have -- uh -- all this under your rule."

"How?"

"I have malefic, supernatural powers," Shenecron said, knowing full well that the troll would not know what "malefic" meant, thinking it was a name or logo or something. "I have the power to remake you, reformat you so to speak, to allow you to overthrow the Banned."

Shenecron deliberately didn't mention the price just yet. He flourished a scroll and said, "All you need to do is sign."

"Don't you want . . . payment?"

Not all trolls were severely intellectually-deficent, apparently. But none possessed the intellect of a Galvan, a Cerebrocrustacean, or a Transylian. But those were innately ingenius species.

"Ah," Shenecron said, smoothly, "just a coup against the RAFians, slay them if you can. This deal will assure your assent to ruling the Bannedlands, and allow you stage a coup on the forum."

Proud was not smart or paranoid or intuitive enough to question what would happen if he should fail in this endeavor. It would have been wise, been prudent, to do so. But he did not. He signed without another moment's hesitation.

Then Shenecron worked his magic, reformatting Proud into looking like a fusion of "Mega Man X4" bosses Colonel and General, with gray armor with gold and silver trim. He was now about twice his original height. He parted ways with Shenecron and easily over threw Queen. He threw her and Aloth into the dungeons within the remotest part of the Bannedlands. He kept Yorick around, as he switched sides and sided with Proud.

[Underseen]

Male Ursala right there.

[redtailedsaffa]

Haha, that's what I was thinking. Especially with the songs.

[Cloak]

Well, while that was not the original idea of the character, but he eventually became that, I suppose. All three or four chapters. Two more ideas.

• BOOK CCXL: "Discord's Apple" -- The RAFians must cope with the Apple of Discord.
• BOOK CCXLI: "Livin' in the Fridge" -- The RAFians must deal with a garbage-devouring slime mold that gains near sentience.

A new chapter shortly.

Strike that. My internet has decided to be a pain in the . . . neck.

[Gaz]

I know the feeling about annoying internet.

[Cloak]

Well, I give it a shot.

CHAPTER SIX:
The Invading Army

"Steph and Esplin and Phoenix and SuperNate and
Gaz and Parker and Tyler and estrid and
Chad and Dino and Duff and Myitt and
Terenia and Kelly and Goom and Horse and
Druid and Faerie and morfowt and ANna and
Dameg and Azguard and Blaze and Nomad and
Esty and Cloaky and Bear and Jess --"

Shenmue was giving a shot at something that had never been attempted before -- singing the names of all RAFians that bore a Mark (lurkers and newbies aren't granted them immediately upon joining, as a security precaution). Saffa and Phoenix were monitoring her while giving sportcaster like testimony to a camera.

Most of RAF had gathered to witness the attempt, but one did not. One felt too restless to sit around, tryong bear witness to an impossible feat to do in one sitting. Cloak prowled the perimeter of the forum, like a tiger pacing the walls of its cage, though RAF was the farthest thing from a cage. He did not know why he felt so antsy, so unable to sit still.

So, naturally, he was the first one to notice the invasion force. Although, it was so blunt, so obvious, it bordered on insulting. But they were headed by an unknown leader. Cloak ****ed his head to the side, perplexed. Why weren't the Banned leading the charge?

Cloak shrugged the question off, and went to raise the alarm.

***

There really wasn't anything to it. The RAFians absolutely destroyed the army, as they would normally with the Banned. Yet there was almost a disqppointment, as the army wasn't nearly as tough had the Banned been at the head.

Cloak himself took down Proud with ruthless ease. He cracked the armor savagely, revealing that the only true change in Proud was the armor. Cloak could not muster up pity for the thing, but showed mercy.

Demos stared at Proud, eye wide with recognition. He recognized his brother's handiwork, as much as a brother could recognize such a thing.

***

"Time to pay up," Shenecron said to Proud.

"I don't --"

"You didn't stage a coup, you went full frontal assault." the demon said. "You failed."

"You can take it back, it's been destroyed."

"Oh, really?" Shenecron said coyly. "Then I need compension, don't I?"

"But what --"

"You know what." Shenecron said, dropping all pleasant pretense, with his voice taking on a hard, sinister tone. He reaped Proud's soul as compensation for the armor Shenecron knew the RAFians would destroy. He also sent a message to his dear brother.