Author's Notes: Awww...You guys are the greatest! Giving me such good reviews and all...sniff That's...that's just so sweet...I just need to reply to each one of you!
Varyssa: Why, thank you! And thank you for your review of the first WVGCAATAL, too. :-) Hope you enjoy this one, too.
Smoke: Fear not, Malek has one more appearance in store. If you'll recall, Moebius isn't exactly a genius himself. :-P Speaking of Mister "I'm The Time Streamer, so fear me", I never outright said he was homosexual...Razielia did, and her view of the world is a bit skwed sometimes. :-p But, I also didn't say he wasn't. You know, I never actually considered that conversation before...Can you believe that? But now that you mention it...hee hee...(insert evil grin here) Yes, well, they are good actors. Usually. Sometimes. On occasion. That, and I like to prove that I can write—really. Btw, your pic helped inspire this. ;-)
And on another note, everyone with an extra minute should check out Smoke's profile and see her homepage, featuring "Why Video Game Characters Aren't Allowed to Ad-Lib 3" as a comic, and her own version of the Drag Reaver.
Darster: So that's where you went! Well, I'm glad your back reading again, and I really appreciate your reviews. I missed you! Hope you enjoy this edition just as much.
Raven-Marss2000: You know, actually, I do have "Legacy of Koein: Drag Reaver" on tap for my next parody. In fact, I would have had the first chapter posted already, except I had forgotten about the "no scripts" rule until recently. So, I have to rewrite it. But stay tuned! Razielia will have her own story!
Syvia: Gracias! Yeah, Malek's not all there, and I'm not referring to the fact he'll soon be nothing but walking, talking armor. :-P Ask, and ye shall receive...
And now, to your delight/horror/mild disgust, I bring you...
Chapter 2:
Pants Make the Man
With Zephon the Future Sufferer of Egg-Farting Syndrome
And Melchiah the Stoned Off His Righteous Arse Hippy
As Raziel left Moebius and Malek behind, horror filled him as he realized the Reaver had a shockingly powerful hold over him. The blade, refusing to be left behind, bared any attempt he made to fade into the Spectral Realm. When he tried to put it down, however, his hand seemed to grip it all the tighter, as though possessed by the Reaver's influence. It left him no choice. He would simply have to go on—
His concentration was shattered when the Drag Reaver beside him exclaimed, "Oh my god! Are those my sisters?!"
Raziel groaned. "You wretch!" he exclaimed, "I was getting back into character, and you completely ruined it! Way to go, Razielia!"
"Thank you," Razielia said so giddily that Raziel raised the Reaver up to strike her down then and there. It was only the thought of what a Soul Reaver infused with her/his/its soul would be like that made him stop. Instead, he grumbled and started marching down the hallway, the Drag Reaver following close behind. Up ahead, he could see the movement of the two Sarafan that he knew would be waiting.
"Actually, those are my future vampire brothers," Raziel explained, "Melchiah and Zephon...they will be the weakest of my brethren."
"Oh," Razielia said, sounding depressed, "I thought they were the mortal versions of my sisters, Melanie and Zephonia..."
"I don't even want to know," Raziel sighed as he walked, "And speaking of which, this is the end of my second game, and these next few battles are very important, so do me a favor and just...leave me alone, okay?"
"Oh," Razielia snorted and looked at Raziel as though he'd just adorned a purple stocking cap with a tangerine blazer, "Oh, I see...So, now I'm supposed to take orders from you? A guy wearing no pants?"
Raziel stopped on the threshold of the courtyard. He could see the Sarafan versions of his youngest brothers standing at the far end of it and to the right, apparently talking, but that didn't concern him. What currently concerned him was his doppelganger's remark about his lack of pants. As he slowly turned to face her, he saw she was already standing with one hip propped and her arms crossed. Her eyes were even slightly narrowed, an expression he was sure his own eyes reflected.
"For your information," he began, "I used to have a pair a very good, even somewhat stylish pants for the time period, and they were also extremely comfortable. Sadly, they burned up in the Abyss, like the rest of my clothes except for my tabard, and, of course, the majority of my body."
"Oh, like that's an excuse!" Razielia exclaimed with a shake of her head, "According to an article published in Nosgoth Today, how you dress really makes the person. Hence why I used to wear this once lovely, exquisite ball gown. I know it's in ruins now, but it was once gorgeous—it was a statement of my regal authority."
"Uh-huh," Raziel raised a brow, "and yet, you continue to wear it, even though it's in tatters?"
"Well, I haven't had the opportunity to change," she said, somewhat bashfully, "But if I did, I would in an instant! I was once sending out a message of fashion wisdom, power, good taste, and authority with this gown and the accessories with it. Your message, though...well, doll, let's just say I've seen beggars sending out a better fashion message than you are. And a pair of pants would really fix that up in a jiffy."
"I beg your pardon!" Raziel proclaimed, "I would have you know that while my choice of attire is simple, the lone tabard sends out a message of hardship, despair, mystery, and strength." He nodded, then his eyes widened. "Oh dear GOD! I can't believe I just said that!" He shut both his eyes tight and placed his arms in front of him in a cross, the one holding the Reaver forming the base. "Back, evil demon! Your wicked influence is poisoning my mind!"
"Wow," Razielia marveled at his stance, "I guess some habits really do die hard..." She looked around to see Melchiah and Zephon still talking and oblivious to them. "Here, let's ask them—they can settle this for us." She began to march towards them.
"What? No, Razielia, wait!" Raziel dropped his arms and groaned, then began to jog to catch up with her. "I swear, she never listens," he grumbled aloud.
As the two neared, Raziel realized why it was that they hadn't attacked yet—they were both so deeply enthralled with their own conversation, they didn't even notice as he and Razielia approached them. Curious, he listened in.
"I'm telling you, Melchiah," the Sarafan Zephon was saying, "If you showed up to training or—worse! —To a sermon in a tie-dye, Malek would run you through with that pike of his, and roast you over the pit of Hell itself."
Melchiah, leaning against a wall and looking particularly relaxed, shook his head. The action was slow and somewhat sluggish. When he spoke, his words were well formed, but slow, dragged out, and with a hint of good-humor to them. "Nah, man," he said, "Nah, don't you see, man? It'd be...like...a statement, man. Like a statement saying, 'I will not be confined by your rules', man. And...I won't either, man. You catch what I'm sayin', brother?"
"Yeah, I catch what you're saying," Zephon snorted, "I catch that you're smoking that wacky grass again. How'd you get away with it on duty, though? The Circle has a very strict non-smoking policy, even of regular cigarettes..."
"Yeah, man, I like, totally feel that," Melchiah agreed, and gave a lop-sided grin under his helm, "But they gotta give me an hour lunch break, man, 'cause the...the union, man, they make them give us time." He reached under his breastplate and pulled out a small square of chocolate food covered in green flecks. "Like, you want a brownie?"
Raziel tried to hold back a snort of laughter. Razielia, however, turned to her Soul Reaver double and, gesturing to Melchiah, said, "See there? Even the half-baked stoner knows that clothes make the man." Then, before Raziel could reply, she walked towards the two. "Excuse me," she said politely in her high-pitched, girlish voice, "But could you two settle a dispute for us?"
"Like, yeah, man!" Melchiah said, sounding somewhat enthusiastic. (Raziel took note that Melchiah didn't seem to have any fear of the Drag Reaver—in fact, he wondered if Melchiah even noticed she was wearing a ball gown over a tattered, blue, and stomachless body.) "You have, like, found the right place," he continued, "'Cause I am Melchiah, the...the...the...the Settler of Disputes!"
"More like the Stoned Off His Ass," grumbled Zephon. He then turned to Razielia (Raziel was amazed to note that he, too, had no issue with her appearance—maybe all unnatural blue wraiths with glowing white eyes looked the same to Sarafan.) and said, "Well, maybe, that just depends...Hey, wait a minute, aren't you the guy we're supposed to be killing?"
"Well, honey, I think that depends on your definition of 'guy'," Razielia chuckled while Raziel flinched, "But anyway, we need a second opinion." She moved aside so that they could see Raziel well, then said, "Now, be honest: does he need pants? Yes or no."
"Yes," Zephon said without a hesitation, "He's not wearing enough clothes, and pants are really the easiest thing to fix your appearance with. Besides, pants make the man, and the man people think you are help to give your life meaning. Therefore, a life without pants is a life without meaning." Zephon nodded firmly, then looked at Melchiah, "What do you say, Sir Dopesalot?"
"Like, man, I don't know, man," Melchiah stupidly shook his head from side to side, "because, like, man, with no pants, you're like...exposed, you know? But you're also, like, conforming to the system, and that's not groovy, man. So, man, I just...I don't know, man..."
"Wow," Raziel said, sounding about as enthusiastic as a small child informed that he must eat his broccoli, "your input was very useful and informative, and I'm not entirely sure how I got through a lifetime of humanity, vampirism, and whatever you'd like call my existence now without it. But I really need to just kill you and get on to the next room, so if you don't mind..." He began to raise the Reaver.
"Wait, hold on a second," Zephon held up a hand and continued to look at Melchiah, either oblivious to Raziel's threat and the Reaver, or uncaring, one of the two. Somewhat stunned by his reaction, Raziel allowed the blade to drop, obviously shocked. "What do you mean you don't know? Oh, come on, you hippy, you have an opinion about everything! And now that someone actually cares what you think, you don't know??"
"Hey, man, you need to chill," Melchiah adjusted his weight against the wall, "I just didn't have enough time to think, you know? Man, just chill, and I'll tell you what I think..." There was a pause. Melchiah looked off as if he was thinking, but somehow Raziel doubted this. But all three fell silent and gave him the time he needed to do just that. After three minutes, however, Raziel gave up and lifted the Reaver again to strike them both down, wondering silently to himself why he was actually listening to this rubbish in the first place, but was stopped by Razielia.
"Wait," she whispered, "Maybe he actually does have something important to say. Raziel sighed, and dropped the Reaver. Normally, it was a general rule of his not to take the advice of his Drag Reaver double, but under the current circumstances he thought, Why the hell not? Not like it matters anymore at this point...
Five minutes after that, Zephon started looking around and examining his sword. He noticed that it still had some dried blood on it from a previous raid—possibly even the one that ended with the death of Janos Audron so soon before this—and set to work using the bit of his undershirt sticking out underneath the armor to clean it. Some seven or eight minutes after that, Razielia started to hum a Village People song under her breath and tap her foot to the beat. After a line or two, Raziel was again trying to figure out why he didn't just kill them all. At last, 16 minutes after he had made his last statement, Melchiah turned to look at Zephon again.
"Man, what are we talking about?" he said.
"Oh, to hell with it!" Raziel exclaimed. His patience had been pushed to and beyond it's limit, and before anyone could talk him out of it, he lunged forward and struck Melchiah across the chest with the Reaver. Melchiah grunted and jerked backwards, hitting his protected head against the wall as his pike cluttered uselessly to the ground, as well as exposing his venerable throat. Without hesitation, Raziel took the opportunity and sliced his jugular, having had much experience at pinpointing that particular vein during his vampire years.
Razielia jumped and shrieked, obviously surprised by Raziel's sudden aggressiveness. Raziel wondered how dense a person could be, and then ignored her as he witnessed the Reaver draw Melchiah's blood to it as though it were a living vampire. He marveled as the blood hit the surface of the blade, and then seemed to disappear into it. Once Melchiah was drained, Raziel saw the essence of his soul escape the body, but was too enthralled with the vibrant humming and power now in his hand. Like a real vampire, the Reaver had a bloodlust that could never be satisfied, and feeding it, while making the blade itself stronger, also made the hunger worse.
Not that he wasn't already aware of that, of course. He'd read the script.
"Oh my God!" Zephon exclaimed, "You killed Melchiah!" The Sarafan Inquisitor drew his blade back out. "You bastard!" he proclaimed, before charging.
"'You killed Melchiah'?" Raziel asked, dumbstruck by Zephon's lack of originality, "Wow, how stupid can you---OUCH!" Raziel jumped backwards as Zephon's blade made contact with his left hip. The pain wasn't great, and only stung for the briefest of moments, but that didn't stop Raziel from being upset about it. With narrowed eyes, and before Zephon get off another attack, he plunged forward and slashed the Reaver into Zephon's midsection. The vampiric blade dove into the Sarafan as though he were hot butter, and ripped away metal, cloth, and flesh as though it were wrapping paper. Even before he hit the ground, the Reaver was taking in Zephon's lifeblood. Raziel closed his eyes and gave into the sensations the blade's drinking gave him. Scripted or unscripted, there was nothing wrong with enjoying a cheap thrill.
Once the Reaver had drained Zephon's corpse, his soul escaped the body, but Raziel didn't bother taking it in. After all, even if he hadn't read the script before hand, it didn't take a brain surgeon to figure out that the Reaver healed his wound almost instantly. He looked at the two dead bodies, then towards the sound of an opening gate. His path was now clear to the next room.
Razielia, on the other hand, looked thoroughly disgusted. "That was completely uncalled for," she proclaimed, "I mean, he was stoned for crying out loud...We should have realized he'd forgotten..."
"Oh, I don't give a demon's ass if he was stoned or not," Raziel snorted, "The fact is, I don't really care about the subject all that much anyway. And besides, I needed to kill them to get to the next room." He started off.
Razielia snorted and crossed her arms. "Well! I never," she mumbled, and then looked down at Zephon's body. Just out of curiosity, she went over and removed his helmet to see what he looked like. The sight made her gasp. "It figures!" she yelled after Raziel, "You would have killed one that was remotely cute!"
Raziel stopped, sighed, and looked back. "Would it ease your mind if I told you that the first time I killed him, he was a giant spider stuck to a wall suffering from Egg-Farting Syndrome?"
"Eeww!" Razielia dropped the helmet and eased away from the human body, "No, that'd just make me sick."
"Well, then, shut up," Raziel said curtly, then headed for the door again. Razielia jogged to catch up.
"So," she asked as they past through the door, "Whom are we killing now?"
"We aren't killing anyone," Raziel said darkly, "I am killing Rahab and Dumah. You are staying out of my hair. I thought I explained that once already." In the great hall leading to William's Chapel, he could already make out the shapes of his former brothers as their Sarafan selves, waiting for him. He quickened his pace and raised the Reaver slightly in anticipation...
Razielia just stopped and crossed her arms again, becoming defensive as she had before. "More orders!" she exclaimed, disgusted, "You really expect me to follow orders like that? Or any orders for that manner? Especially if they're given to me by a guy with no cocoanuts!"
Suddenly, the Reaver of Souls came to a very abrupt halt, then spun and advanced on Razielia, his white eyes wide and his body shaking in fury. Razielia gave a small squeak and shrank backwards, suddenly aware that she'd gone a step too far this time...