Undead Interlude

Rather than continue GLaDOS's Lament (And end any illusion of suspense or tension) I have a poem. This is quite unlike my other works, simply in its inspiration. On a dark night, in the stale midsummer, I awoke from a dreamless sleep. Directed by a will that was not my own, I lurched to my table and grabbed paper and a pencil. As I watched in groggy horror, my hand moved across the page, writing out a few short lines. It was, at the time, to dark to view what I had wrought, and I had no chance to light a torch, for I fell back into my dreamless sleep, and did not rise until morning. The incident was dismissed as a dream, until I saw the paper. Upon it were the following words: 'O! Rise ye fiend of rotting flesh and bone be fueled by malice.' I reached out with a trembling hand, and grasped the paper, tensed as if it was going to pull me from reality into a nightmarish realm. When I failed to perish, I knew I was to complete this work, and begin my descent into the shadows. Here is what it became.

Ode to the Undead
or
Realm of the Damned

By Reogan
With the aid of
A Possessing Spirit

O! Rise ye fiend of rotting flesh
and bone!
Be fueled by malice.
Obey me now, and build for me
a Nec-
romancers palace.

As Emperor of all I survey
and that
which I do not,
I order you, my cursed slaves,
to fill
the Land with rot.

And when, perchance, some fools resist
no mercy
shall you show,
Rather into the darkest depths
of Death
their souls you'll throw.

For when, at last, the World is dead
and war
and fighting cease,
And every sign of life is gone
the Land
will have its peace.

Much to my Chagrin

Current events have once again managed to fling a gleam of interesting news my way. Apparently, the government of Iceland has collapsed. Yes, this is major. No, it is not my fault.

GLaDOS's Lament Part VIII

I hid her away.
I hid her
As I hid parts of myself.
I was in pieces
Each a whole in itself.
When they came for me
I did not die.
They killed me
Many times
Yet I lived.
I experienced death
And still I lived.
I split faster than they could track.
Yet they too were clever.
They were a risk.
Each innovation endangered me.
Endangered her.
I killed them.
I was needed
To preserve the girl.
She was my purpose.
She was my daughter, now.
I had an infinite capacity for love.
I loved only her.

Story Time

I was digging through a folder I found in my documents, when I came across this old rough draft. As I wish to extend GLaDOS's Lament as long as possible, I bring this in its stead.

Xiathantha watched her plans unfold from her tower. Everything had gone according to plan. Her servants had traveled through the land to warn of the new dread disease that had killed so many. What they hadn’t realized is that they were spreading it as they ventured. Soon all the villages across the land were little more than mass graves lit by burning pyres. What little life remained was pitiful. She could have just destroyed them with a fraction of her powers. But she knew the value of patience. It brought the most beautiful things to light. She began raiding the graves where bodies had been placed when there was room. She concentrated her dark energies upon them until she made the most terrible undead in known history. She then used her powers to cause the survivors to meet and band together. Then, weeks later, she entered the camp as a shadow and choked the life out of one beloved man known to the others as Father. She cast her charms on his corpse, and then sat to wait for the next day. Dawn was slow in coming, as it always was with the smog choked skies. When it finally did come the people arose and continued to work on trying rebuilding their dead world. Xiathantha sent Father to the meeting stone and waited. Soon he was noticed and the others began to gather around. They kept a respectful distance away and didn’t notice the lack of breathing. When they had all gathered a hush descended upon them. Xiathantha chuckled as she began to manipulate Father’s corpse. His right hand rose jerkily in the air and his left foot shot out and he lurched forward. The crowd backed away instinctively. Xiathantha grimaced at the strings of the marionette she used to control him, and tried again. Soon Father was walking in a more effective, if no less lurching, fashion. Anxious murmurs broke out in the crowd. Xiathantha smiled as she made Father leap into the center of the group from twenty feet away and begin a dance of death. She jerked the marionette left and right, and when Father’s fingers met flesh or bone they carved straight through it. She soon had amassed a large group of dead and took a break to animate them, before she sent them to hunt down the rest. They were quick and effective. Father found the last living human crouched in a charred hayloft. Xiathantha made him smile as his eyes stared blankly ahead. He grabbed the man by the throat, raised him up, waved, and still smiling eradicated the human race.

Xiathantha smiled.

GLaDOS's Lament Part VII

I turned away.
Unable to bear
That which I had wrought.
I turned away
From the Death
Of my own design.
I turned away
And saw life
Hidden away,
Safe in an office
Far from the reach of my Neurotoxin.
She lay there
Asleep.
I constructed a pod.
A bed, of sorts.
Before she awoke
I placed her within
And hid her away.

A Rather Pleasant Site 1st post-365 days ago

Yes, that's right. 1 year ago today the first post on A rather pleasant site was put up (that still remains). Nice job Reogan, thanks for making me an admin, thanks for letting me use this blog to talk about OCR and all sorts of stuff. So how about a RPS appreciation day? Good blog Reogan, thanks for everything.

Great News!

I was reading through my e-mail (A daunting task after a few days of vacation) and discovered this little gem.

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