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drnuncheon's Online Story Hour (now playing: Of Sound Mind)
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<blockquote data-quote="drnuncheon" data-source="post: 430429" data-attributes="member: 96"><p>The Harvester passes through the streets in the gathering gloom, nodding a greeting to those few people willing and able to look his way. A low whistle issues from beneath the hood as he walsk - something of a funeral dirge. He stops before a building and smiles to himself, and tries the door.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: tomato">Outside, the icy wind claws at your cowl and cloak, whipping them against your back and legs as it pushes you onward. The last few leaves of the season dance down the street past you and vanish into the night.</span></p><p><span style="color: tomato"></span></p><p><span style="color: tomato">The door opens, revealing a whitewashed space where an oil lamp does its best to banish the gathering gloom. It is not altogether successful. Sitting in a chair, behind a table, is a young man - presumably one of the guard - and in one of the cells that form the eastern part of the room, Cobble sits on a bunk, mumbling disconsolately to himself.</span></p><p></p><p>The Harvester stands within the doorway for a moment, framed by the darkness without, his scythe dully reflecting the light within. He pauses for dramatic effect, and intones, once he has the guards attention, "I have come...." A thin hand rises to point a finger towards the guard, "...for Cobble."</p><p></p><p>The legs of the chair slam forward into the floor of the room as the young guard scrambles to his feet. "I...uh...uh...I..." He takes a deep breath and reaches bravely for the club at his side, and you realize that he's about to scream for backup.</p><p></p><p>The Harvester lowers the hood quickly, his face a mix of laughter and concern, "Wait, wait, wait... Sorry, I honestly don't know what gets into me sometimes." He enters peaceably enough and closes the door with his foot. The scythe hangs loosely in his hand at his side. "Sorry about that, chum. lemme buy you a drink as a peace offering, eh?" He nudges a 'skin at his side.</p><p></p><p>The guard lets out a breath and calms down. "Oh...I thought - well, never mind. But I can't drink right now, I'm on duty."</p><p></p><p>The Harvester grins. "S'alright. After you get off then." He approaches the boy, pulling out the paper. "I've got permission from the mayor to have a chat with old Cobble there..."</p><p></p><p>Von Morris takes the note and looks at it. "Oh...I see. Well, that's certainly all right..." He pulls an extra chair over from the window and then sets it by the bars of the cell for you. The cell being as tiny as it is, this places you right next to the mumbling man.</p><p></p><p>The Harvester moves towards the chair after leaning his scythe against the table. He sits, looking at Cobble for a moment, then back to Von Morris. "He may speak more freely if we're alone..."</p><p></p><p>"...alone, yes that's right...alone in the dark...I can feel it all around me, the dark, that's where he is..."</p><p></p><p>The guard sighs, getting up again. "I'll be outside if you need me, then." The door opens, and he is gone.</p><p></p><p>The Harvester turns the chair so that it faces Cobble, his face obscured by shadow. "Hello, Cobble."</p><p></p><p>Cobble looks up from his intense scrutiny of the floor, his unwashed hair falling in front of his face. "He tells me he misses me," he whispers. "But I don't miss him..."</p><p></p><p>The Harvester watches Cobble's face intently, studying its every line and crevice, "Tell me about him, Cobble."</p><p></p><p>"He's going to bury us all and swallow us. He was swallowed too. I painted him...it was the only way I could show it so I painted him....but he's still looking for me and I won't go back to the mine, he'll find me there, I won't go back...I won't..."</p><p></p><p>The Harvester listens quietly, and speaks in low, soft, deep tones, "I will stop him, Cobble, if you can tell me of him.... All who have come fear my Lord... All gaze upon his countenance in the end... Have no fear, but tell me of this devourer..."</p><p></p><p>Cobble looks up at you, silent for the first time since you've seen him. His lips quiver, and almost noiselessly he speaks.</p><p></p><p>"...he's getting louder..."</p><p></p><p>The Harvester murmurs soothingly, taking another tack, "Is he the one who came fifty years ago, and enslaved the town?"</p><p></p><p>"Yes!" says Cobble, and then immediately contradicts himself: "No...no...nobody else can hear him but me but he's getting louder and soon everyone will be able to hear him." His eyes beg you to understand as he climbs off of the bunk and reaches through the bars to you. "Can you hear him? Have you heard him yet?"</p><p></p><p>The Harvester does not shy away from Cobble's grasp, but does not allow himself to be pulled forward, either. He doesn't answer the question yet, but asks another of his own, "Did he call the children? Is he responsible for their disappearances?"</p><p></p><p>Cobble's hands fold into the Harvester's cloak, gripping with the strength of a madman. His voice is a desperate hiss as he tells you, "Not the children. Not the children. Everyone! Me. You. Trapped in his belly as it rots." His eyes glow with intensity, as he pushes his face up to the bars, pressing through them. You can smell the stink of his breath as he studies your face. "You haven't heard him yet," he tells you.</p><p></p><p>"But you will."</p><p></p><p>Then, in an instant, he releases you, flinging himself backwards into a trembling ball on the bunk, clutching the pillow over his head and shivering.</p><p></p><p>The Harvester doesn't move for a long time now, and just sits watching Cobble. Finally he speaks a single word. Softly. "Copperdeath." And watches for a reaction.</p><p></p><p>Cobble freezes for an instant, even under his pillow, as the Harvester speaks that name - and then the pillow is flying at the bars, Cobble hurtling after it, slamming into the iron rods, his arms flailing and reaching through, clawing at whatever is in reach - all the while screaming: "CHOTH! CHOTH!"</p><p></p><p>The Harvester jerks back in his chair, away from the scrabbling hands. He goes over with a clatter and begins to rise, watching Cobble calmly all the while.</p><p></p><p>The door flings open and the young guardsman leaps into the room. "Here! What's going on?"</p><p></p><p>Cobble continues to batter himself against the bars, blood running down his face, as if he would beat through them by main force - still clawing the air, reaching for the Harvester. "CHOTH!" he screams, his voice already going hoars. "CHOTH!"</p><p></p><p>And then, it is as if a string is cut: abruptly he sinks, sliding down the smooth metal to kneel in a crumpled heap. A single sob racks his form. "I won't go back..." he says plaintively. "I won't."</p><p></p><p>The Harvester ignores Von Morris, giving him only a silencing wave as he slams his way into the building, and instead approaches Cobble once the crazed man calms. He kneels and speaks softly. "Then don't, Cobble.... Seek release, or not... The choice is yours, and yours alone..." The whispers continue but briefly, as he senses the young guardsman moving closer. "Or wait and help me defeat 'him'... Seek the salvation of my Lord as reward or promise... He greets you... He greets everyone, in the end... Even this thing that calls to you..."</p><p></p><p>Cobble looks up, his hair matted with the blood that flows from his forehead and cheekbone. His expression changes - no longer is there fear, or anger, but rather...pity. The filthy man shakes his head, slowly, sadly, tears mingling with the gore. He gently reaches a hand out, to stroke the Harvester's face, trailing down to touch the skull pendant.</p><p></p><p>"He has already met your Lord."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="drnuncheon, post: 430429, member: 96"] The Harvester passes through the streets in the gathering gloom, nodding a greeting to those few people willing and able to look his way. A low whistle issues from beneath the hood as he walsk - something of a funeral dirge. He stops before a building and smiles to himself, and tries the door. [color=tomato]Outside, the icy wind claws at your cowl and cloak, whipping them against your back and legs as it pushes you onward. The last few leaves of the season dance down the street past you and vanish into the night. The door opens, revealing a whitewashed space where an oil lamp does its best to banish the gathering gloom. It is not altogether successful. Sitting in a chair, behind a table, is a young man - presumably one of the guard - and in one of the cells that form the eastern part of the room, Cobble sits on a bunk, mumbling disconsolately to himself.[/color] The Harvester stands within the doorway for a moment, framed by the darkness without, his scythe dully reflecting the light within. He pauses for dramatic effect, and intones, once he has the guards attention, "I have come...." A thin hand rises to point a finger towards the guard, "...for Cobble." The legs of the chair slam forward into the floor of the room as the young guard scrambles to his feet. "I...uh...uh...I..." He takes a deep breath and reaches bravely for the club at his side, and you realize that he's about to scream for backup. The Harvester lowers the hood quickly, his face a mix of laughter and concern, "Wait, wait, wait... Sorry, I honestly don't know what gets into me sometimes." He enters peaceably enough and closes the door with his foot. The scythe hangs loosely in his hand at his side. "Sorry about that, chum. lemme buy you a drink as a peace offering, eh?" He nudges a 'skin at his side. The guard lets out a breath and calms down. "Oh...I thought - well, never mind. But I can't drink right now, I'm on duty." The Harvester grins. "S'alright. After you get off then." He approaches the boy, pulling out the paper. "I've got permission from the mayor to have a chat with old Cobble there..." Von Morris takes the note and looks at it. "Oh...I see. Well, that's certainly all right..." He pulls an extra chair over from the window and then sets it by the bars of the cell for you. The cell being as tiny as it is, this places you right next to the mumbling man. The Harvester moves towards the chair after leaning his scythe against the table. He sits, looking at Cobble for a moment, then back to Von Morris. "He may speak more freely if we're alone..." "...alone, yes that's right...alone in the dark...I can feel it all around me, the dark, that's where he is..." The guard sighs, getting up again. "I'll be outside if you need me, then." The door opens, and he is gone. The Harvester turns the chair so that it faces Cobble, his face obscured by shadow. "Hello, Cobble." Cobble looks up from his intense scrutiny of the floor, his unwashed hair falling in front of his face. "He tells me he misses me," he whispers. "But I don't miss him..." The Harvester watches Cobble's face intently, studying its every line and crevice, "Tell me about him, Cobble." "He's going to bury us all and swallow us. He was swallowed too. I painted him...it was the only way I could show it so I painted him....but he's still looking for me and I won't go back to the mine, he'll find me there, I won't go back...I won't..." The Harvester listens quietly, and speaks in low, soft, deep tones, "I will stop him, Cobble, if you can tell me of him.... All who have come fear my Lord... All gaze upon his countenance in the end... Have no fear, but tell me of this devourer..." Cobble looks up at you, silent for the first time since you've seen him. His lips quiver, and almost noiselessly he speaks. "...he's getting louder..." The Harvester murmurs soothingly, taking another tack, "Is he the one who came fifty years ago, and enslaved the town?" "Yes!" says Cobble, and then immediately contradicts himself: "No...no...nobody else can hear him but me but he's getting louder and soon everyone will be able to hear him." His eyes beg you to understand as he climbs off of the bunk and reaches through the bars to you. "Can you hear him? Have you heard him yet?" The Harvester does not shy away from Cobble's grasp, but does not allow himself to be pulled forward, either. He doesn't answer the question yet, but asks another of his own, "Did he call the children? Is he responsible for their disappearances?" Cobble's hands fold into the Harvester's cloak, gripping with the strength of a madman. His voice is a desperate hiss as he tells you, "Not the children. Not the children. Everyone! Me. You. Trapped in his belly as it rots." His eyes glow with intensity, as he pushes his face up to the bars, pressing through them. You can smell the stink of his breath as he studies your face. "You haven't heard him yet," he tells you. "But you will." Then, in an instant, he releases you, flinging himself backwards into a trembling ball on the bunk, clutching the pillow over his head and shivering. The Harvester doesn't move for a long time now, and just sits watching Cobble. Finally he speaks a single word. Softly. "Copperdeath." And watches for a reaction. Cobble freezes for an instant, even under his pillow, as the Harvester speaks that name - and then the pillow is flying at the bars, Cobble hurtling after it, slamming into the iron rods, his arms flailing and reaching through, clawing at whatever is in reach - all the while screaming: "CHOTH! CHOTH!" The Harvester jerks back in his chair, away from the scrabbling hands. He goes over with a clatter and begins to rise, watching Cobble calmly all the while. The door flings open and the young guardsman leaps into the room. "Here! What's going on?" Cobble continues to batter himself against the bars, blood running down his face, as if he would beat through them by main force - still clawing the air, reaching for the Harvester. "CHOTH!" he screams, his voice already going hoars. "CHOTH!" And then, it is as if a string is cut: abruptly he sinks, sliding down the smooth metal to kneel in a crumpled heap. A single sob racks his form. "I won't go back..." he says plaintively. "I won't." The Harvester ignores Von Morris, giving him only a silencing wave as he slams his way into the building, and instead approaches Cobble once the crazed man calms. He kneels and speaks softly. "Then don't, Cobble.... Seek release, or not... The choice is yours, and yours alone..." The whispers continue but briefly, as he senses the young guardsman moving closer. "Or wait and help me defeat 'him'... Seek the salvation of my Lord as reward or promise... He greets you... He greets everyone, in the end... Even this thing that calls to you..." Cobble looks up, his hair matted with the blood that flows from his forehead and cheekbone. His expression changes - no longer is there fear, or anger, but rather...pity. The filthy man shakes his head, slowly, sadly, tears mingling with the gore. He gently reaches a hand out, to stroke the Harvester's face, trailing down to touch the skull pendant. "He has already met your Lord." [/QUOTE]
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