Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings. It belongs
to J.R.R. Tolkien. All Authors and OCs used with permission.
Author's Note:
I made another original fiction site!
Be sure to sign the guestbook! It's about this little story thing that my cousins and I made up in '97. Can't tell you much; I'll kill the content if I do. It's a fantasy thing, almost like my Ryunarasu site (). I've also got the story on the site posted on FictionPress.Net. I'd appreciate it if you reviewed, but no need for an extreme plea. Thanks!
~Naheka
Tally-ho!
The File Cabinet
In the single time of a mere half hour, Mary-Sue had efficiently slew the front line without much of a mess. They had taken the strong fort wall, slashing it down to crumbled ruins upon a burnt earth, and smearing the remains into its great face. The Keep was the easiest to overcome. Very few could do anything to resist, and many had been smitten viciously. There were only a few dozen left, barely alive, while the rest... had been sent back from hence they came.
"Go back to the Shadow!" Estelia had exclaimed. "Be quenched, Fire of Foe! Return to what you were in the beginning!"
And every OC that had fought in the war, fought against the Mary-Sue, was prosecuted. They were ethereally transported to what the Mary-Sues had lovingly entitled, "Hell".
~Naurglahad~
Maybe that's what death really is. It's merely an ending to an old life and a beginning to a new one. Well, on the verge of death at that very moment, that wasn't really the question. The true inquiry was more like, what happens after death? When the fires die down, and all that is left in this world is the tarnished earth and the failing stars, forsaken by what was called hope and faith... and the hollow shell of your own loved ones, their lifeless, also forsaken forms, covered in the ash of defeat. And then you will look at your own hands and curse the one who made them, for your hands had failed to do anything worth saving.
What if was like the movie Signs? Was this defeat a sign to the world? Was our hard-fought victory supposed to be an advantage to Fate? Maybe it was. Maybe we were meant to fail.
Well damn Fate! I die now in vain, and I've been condemned by Mary-Sue, never to return again.
Here comes the White Light...
Goodbye.
---
"NOOO! GO AWAY!"
"Nah! You'll never escape me!"
What... the... I thought I died earlier. My eyes eased open. Everything was all white. Maybe I was in Heaven.
"But if YOU two are here.... THIS MUST BE THE OTHER PLACE! NOOO!"
"NOOO!"
Onikunshu and Narcisuss were hopping about the area again, screaming madly without any intentions to stay still. I scanned the room carefully, wary of whether this was a Sue chamber or not. But thankfully, it wasn't. In fact, it was the inside of Naheka's Fiction Dome. But hadn't that Mary-Sue condemned us? Didn't she send us to Hell? I pondered intensely for a moment.
I recalled, "Be quenched, Fire of Foe! Return to what you were in the beginning!" That meant that we were supposed to die, permanently. To return to our last life, our Hell, our Creator.
...And then I remembered that we were OCs. Original Creations.
"Figured it out, child?" asked Onikunshu finally. I snapped back into reality. "Though a Mary-Sue is indeed a powerful creature, it is still an OC. An OC cannot overpower the abilities of the mightiest ones that roam this campus."
My jaw dropped. "Wait... you're saying that that scrawny, little, punk, child of an Author is stronger than us?"
"Aye, she is."
"...But I've beaten her up some odd sixty-three times."
"Sixty-eight," stated Narcisuss in a matter-of-factly tone. "I counted.
"Well, she has never pulled the ultimate consequence on you," muttered my father in reply. "Deletion." When he said that word, I thought my ears would pop off.
"So... can they Delete the Mary-Sues?"
He shook his head. Damn. "Only the creator of the Sue can Delete the Sue." Then he opened the door of the Fiction Dome and reached into the File Cabinet. It was a portfolio; a black and silver portfolio. My eyes widened. "But know that once the Author is killed," he flipped open the folder, "we are killed. Got it?"
"Right... So... whatcha' gonna' do with that special little folder, eh?"
His pale hands graced the first sheet of paper, a leaf barely marked with any text, save the few letters that had been typed there. "Do you remember the Tale of Creation? You called it a bedtime story as a child. But now, no one can call it as such a folly. What acts we perform in the next few hours determine the fate... of the world."
"Really?" I asked sincerely.
"Really."
I paused. "Dammit!" I slapped my thigh. "Why do we always have to save the frickin' world? It's always getting itself into some frickin' trouble!"
"It's a curse, dear," sighed Narcisuss. "Many OCs must bear it."
"Yeah. It's called the Curse of Cliche."
"Precisely," said Onikunshu. "Now, what was the story again?" He started flipping through the papers in the portfolio.
"In every day the Sun brings light," I answered, almost singing as I recited (very frightening; I couldn't sing a straight note if my life depended on it)
"And every night the Moon brings stars,
The clouds of fate are always there,
To all of those who breathe beware,
That with every life there is a death,
And with every death there is a life,
One for one, other for other,
A doom bound to us,
And forever the end."
Onikunshu handed Narcisuss a packet of papers. She accepted them graciously and took them under her arm, walking to the space of the wall to the right of the Fiction Dome. A complicated piece of machinery was installed in the wall below the input plugs the Author had used to install Canon/Created characters. According to these really, really thick hand-out papers we were given some time last year, all full of this complex and meaningless crud, the machine was called an "Inter-literature Multi-purpose OC Service Station".
The IMOSS ( I liked to call it "I M Overly Sickened and Sad"; don't ask) was a transmitter that only OCs could use. You can extract OC stuff from it, I guess. If you put in a couple quarters, you could also buy a tuna sandwich. Another dime made a soda to go with that. And with three bucks you can get popcorn, canned soup, some parsnips, a glass of water, and a sandwich. Truth be told... I really prefered just a tray of sushi.
"Naurglahad... you're drooling."
"Huh?"
Oh yeah. There was this disgusting blob of half-dragon, half-human drool pouring down my front. Narcisuss came and dabbed my face with a handkerchief. I bit the cloth and tugged it out of her hand. Okay, so I have a habit of grabbing things with my mouth, too. If you have a problem, then screw you.
"Now... obviously the Mary-Sue quarters will be located somewhere in the west," said my father. "I will be flying there only by myself. But you, however... well..." He looked incredibly pained as he held out his closed fist. I carefully raised my own open hand to receive whatever he was going to give me. "You'll probably need--and want this."
Like Frodo when Gandalf dropped the Ring into his hand after it had come out of the fireplace, my hand bobbed in the air as Onikunshu dropped a small silver key into my palm. I looked at it for a moment, tilting my hand, allowing the light of the room to sing upon the glimmer of the metal piece. I recognized this key with a gasp. Looking up, I saw that my father still seemed pained. Again, he was offering me some great burden of his; a packet of papers. I flipped through each leaf carefully, feeling my jaw drop with every turn.
"Daddy..."
"Don't call me that."
I would have told him to just shut up, but it would have killed the moment. I walked across the desk and put my arms around him. "Thank you..."
"...Fine... You're welcome." Oh, the ugly, bitter sweetness of the moment. He put a hand to my head and let it rest there. "But the world needs us now. Tarry not and get those papers filed! Now! Go!"
~Narcisuss~
"You make a very cute father," I grunted, coming out of the Fiction Dome, back in black and P.O'ed for no apparent reason. Naurglahad brushed past me with a dark grin on her face, her key and paper packet clutched tightly between devious fingers. She slammed the door to the Dome as I exited, which was immediately followed by a maniacal and evil laugh. I swear, that child must be my daughter (that was my laugh), whether he denies it or not.
"You make a very nagging mother," Oni replied, assembling his own paper packet and heading towards the door. "One day, they'll make cards that you can just put into a slot; get your weapons quicker and easier that way."
"Yes," I replied coolly, "now imagine a large, iron mace flying out of a port and slamming into your face unexpectedly. You'll catch it by the spiked end and fly straight into the Author's desk." To my annoyance, he grinned and chuckled softly. I sighed. "Every time I glare at you, you smile at me. But every time I smile at you, you go ballistic. Why?"
"It's the way my mutant and sadistic family programmed me to work," he said sarcastically. I couldn't help but laugh myself.
Agh. The romance that would have bloomed at that moment completely died as there was a whirring noise coming from inside the Dome. What had Oni given Naurglahad?
"You'll see," he answered after I inquired. Then, Naurglahad re-entered the office area with an expression of a lunatic as her hands moved down to her waist to retrieve... two guns. Guns! What ever happened to swords?
"Mom," she said in an explanatory tone, "these are Uzis; kinda' like little pistols that fire as madly as a machine gun." She pulled out a longer gun from her waist. "Desert Eagle. Works like a revolver." And finally, the black one that rested on her shoulders. "And this one is a shotgun." She hugged the long, double-tubed thing. "My preciousss... nah, I like Uzis much better."
"And the point of explaining all of this to me?" I asked bitterly.
"...Just to show you how much stuff Daddy taught me!"
My gaze drifted to Oni, who was busy staring at a random spot on the ceiling.
"BYE!"
VROOM! VROOM! BANG! "BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
In a flash, she had busted out of the office completely, a trail of gas and smoke behind her. But how did she move so fast?
"I warn you," said Onikunshu menacingly as he opened the door to the Fiction Dome, "never, never, ever... give that child a set of guns and a motorcycle simultaneously... unless she's out to save the world."
"Can I destroy the world instead?" I asked dully.
Again to my surprise, he took my hand gently, delicately stroking my fingers with his thumb. "When the war is over, I'll do that for you."
"Thanks... I guess."
Author's Note:
I made another original fiction site!
Be sure to sign the guestbook! It's about this little story thing that my cousins and I made up in '97. Can't tell you much; I'll kill the content if I do. It's a fantasy thing, almost like my Ryunarasu site (). I've also got the story on the site posted on FictionPress.Net. I'd appreciate it if you reviewed, but no need for an extreme plea. Thanks!
~Naheka
Tally-ho!
The File Cabinet
In the single time of a mere half hour, Mary-Sue had efficiently slew the front line without much of a mess. They had taken the strong fort wall, slashing it down to crumbled ruins upon a burnt earth, and smearing the remains into its great face. The Keep was the easiest to overcome. Very few could do anything to resist, and many had been smitten viciously. There were only a few dozen left, barely alive, while the rest... had been sent back from hence they came.
"Go back to the Shadow!" Estelia had exclaimed. "Be quenched, Fire of Foe! Return to what you were in the beginning!"
And every OC that had fought in the war, fought against the Mary-Sue, was prosecuted. They were ethereally transported to what the Mary-Sues had lovingly entitled, "Hell".
~Naurglahad~
Maybe that's what death really is. It's merely an ending to an old life and a beginning to a new one. Well, on the verge of death at that very moment, that wasn't really the question. The true inquiry was more like, what happens after death? When the fires die down, and all that is left in this world is the tarnished earth and the failing stars, forsaken by what was called hope and faith... and the hollow shell of your own loved ones, their lifeless, also forsaken forms, covered in the ash of defeat. And then you will look at your own hands and curse the one who made them, for your hands had failed to do anything worth saving.
What if was like the movie Signs? Was this defeat a sign to the world? Was our hard-fought victory supposed to be an advantage to Fate? Maybe it was. Maybe we were meant to fail.
Well damn Fate! I die now in vain, and I've been condemned by Mary-Sue, never to return again.
Here comes the White Light...
Goodbye.
---
"NOOO! GO AWAY!"
"Nah! You'll never escape me!"
What... the... I thought I died earlier. My eyes eased open. Everything was all white. Maybe I was in Heaven.
"But if YOU two are here.... THIS MUST BE THE OTHER PLACE! NOOO!"
"NOOO!"
Onikunshu and Narcisuss were hopping about the area again, screaming madly without any intentions to stay still. I scanned the room carefully, wary of whether this was a Sue chamber or not. But thankfully, it wasn't. In fact, it was the inside of Naheka's Fiction Dome. But hadn't that Mary-Sue condemned us? Didn't she send us to Hell? I pondered intensely for a moment.
I recalled, "Be quenched, Fire of Foe! Return to what you were in the beginning!" That meant that we were supposed to die, permanently. To return to our last life, our Hell, our Creator.
...And then I remembered that we were OCs. Original Creations.
"Figured it out, child?" asked Onikunshu finally. I snapped back into reality. "Though a Mary-Sue is indeed a powerful creature, it is still an OC. An OC cannot overpower the abilities of the mightiest ones that roam this campus."
My jaw dropped. "Wait... you're saying that that scrawny, little, punk, child of an Author is stronger than us?"
"Aye, she is."
"...But I've beaten her up some odd sixty-three times."
"Sixty-eight," stated Narcisuss in a matter-of-factly tone. "I counted.
"Well, she has never pulled the ultimate consequence on you," muttered my father in reply. "Deletion." When he said that word, I thought my ears would pop off.
"So... can they Delete the Mary-Sues?"
He shook his head. Damn. "Only the creator of the Sue can Delete the Sue." Then he opened the door of the Fiction Dome and reached into the File Cabinet. It was a portfolio; a black and silver portfolio. My eyes widened. "But know that once the Author is killed," he flipped open the folder, "we are killed. Got it?"
"Right... So... whatcha' gonna' do with that special little folder, eh?"
His pale hands graced the first sheet of paper, a leaf barely marked with any text, save the few letters that had been typed there. "Do you remember the Tale of Creation? You called it a bedtime story as a child. But now, no one can call it as such a folly. What acts we perform in the next few hours determine the fate... of the world."
"Really?" I asked sincerely.
"Really."
I paused. "Dammit!" I slapped my thigh. "Why do we always have to save the frickin' world? It's always getting itself into some frickin' trouble!"
"It's a curse, dear," sighed Narcisuss. "Many OCs must bear it."
"Yeah. It's called the Curse of Cliche."
"Precisely," said Onikunshu. "Now, what was the story again?" He started flipping through the papers in the portfolio.
"In every day the Sun brings light," I answered, almost singing as I recited (very frightening; I couldn't sing a straight note if my life depended on it)
"And every night the Moon brings stars,
The clouds of fate are always there,
To all of those who breathe beware,
That with every life there is a death,
And with every death there is a life,
One for one, other for other,
A doom bound to us,
And forever the end."
Onikunshu handed Narcisuss a packet of papers. She accepted them graciously and took them under her arm, walking to the space of the wall to the right of the Fiction Dome. A complicated piece of machinery was installed in the wall below the input plugs the Author had used to install Canon/Created characters. According to these really, really thick hand-out papers we were given some time last year, all full of this complex and meaningless crud, the machine was called an "Inter-literature Multi-purpose OC Service Station".
The IMOSS ( I liked to call it "I M Overly Sickened and Sad"; don't ask) was a transmitter that only OCs could use. You can extract OC stuff from it, I guess. If you put in a couple quarters, you could also buy a tuna sandwich. Another dime made a soda to go with that. And with three bucks you can get popcorn, canned soup, some parsnips, a glass of water, and a sandwich. Truth be told... I really prefered just a tray of sushi.
"Naurglahad... you're drooling."
"Huh?"
Oh yeah. There was this disgusting blob of half-dragon, half-human drool pouring down my front. Narcisuss came and dabbed my face with a handkerchief. I bit the cloth and tugged it out of her hand. Okay, so I have a habit of grabbing things with my mouth, too. If you have a problem, then screw you.
"Now... obviously the Mary-Sue quarters will be located somewhere in the west," said my father. "I will be flying there only by myself. But you, however... well..." He looked incredibly pained as he held out his closed fist. I carefully raised my own open hand to receive whatever he was going to give me. "You'll probably need--and want this."
Like Frodo when Gandalf dropped the Ring into his hand after it had come out of the fireplace, my hand bobbed in the air as Onikunshu dropped a small silver key into my palm. I looked at it for a moment, tilting my hand, allowing the light of the room to sing upon the glimmer of the metal piece. I recognized this key with a gasp. Looking up, I saw that my father still seemed pained. Again, he was offering me some great burden of his; a packet of papers. I flipped through each leaf carefully, feeling my jaw drop with every turn.
"Daddy..."
"Don't call me that."
I would have told him to just shut up, but it would have killed the moment. I walked across the desk and put my arms around him. "Thank you..."
"...Fine... You're welcome." Oh, the ugly, bitter sweetness of the moment. He put a hand to my head and let it rest there. "But the world needs us now. Tarry not and get those papers filed! Now! Go!"
~Narcisuss~
"You make a very cute father," I grunted, coming out of the Fiction Dome, back in black and P.O'ed for no apparent reason. Naurglahad brushed past me with a dark grin on her face, her key and paper packet clutched tightly between devious fingers. She slammed the door to the Dome as I exited, which was immediately followed by a maniacal and evil laugh. I swear, that child must be my daughter (that was my laugh), whether he denies it or not.
"You make a very nagging mother," Oni replied, assembling his own paper packet and heading towards the door. "One day, they'll make cards that you can just put into a slot; get your weapons quicker and easier that way."
"Yes," I replied coolly, "now imagine a large, iron mace flying out of a port and slamming into your face unexpectedly. You'll catch it by the spiked end and fly straight into the Author's desk." To my annoyance, he grinned and chuckled softly. I sighed. "Every time I glare at you, you smile at me. But every time I smile at you, you go ballistic. Why?"
"It's the way my mutant and sadistic family programmed me to work," he said sarcastically. I couldn't help but laugh myself.
Agh. The romance that would have bloomed at that moment completely died as there was a whirring noise coming from inside the Dome. What had Oni given Naurglahad?
"You'll see," he answered after I inquired. Then, Naurglahad re-entered the office area with an expression of a lunatic as her hands moved down to her waist to retrieve... two guns. Guns! What ever happened to swords?
"Mom," she said in an explanatory tone, "these are Uzis; kinda' like little pistols that fire as madly as a machine gun." She pulled out a longer gun from her waist. "Desert Eagle. Works like a revolver." And finally, the black one that rested on her shoulders. "And this one is a shotgun." She hugged the long, double-tubed thing. "My preciousss... nah, I like Uzis much better."
"And the point of explaining all of this to me?" I asked bitterly.
"...Just to show you how much stuff Daddy taught me!"
My gaze drifted to Oni, who was busy staring at a random spot on the ceiling.
"BYE!"
VROOM! VROOM! BANG! "BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
In a flash, she had busted out of the office completely, a trail of gas and smoke behind her. But how did she move so fast?
"I warn you," said Onikunshu menacingly as he opened the door to the Fiction Dome, "never, never, ever... give that child a set of guns and a motorcycle simultaneously... unless she's out to save the world."
"Can I destroy the world instead?" I asked dully.
Again to my surprise, he took my hand gently, delicately stroking my fingers with his thumb. "When the war is over, I'll do that for you."
"Thanks... I guess."