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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Horacio" data-source="post: 335220" data-attributes="member: 82">Jarval, Caliber, Bob, thanks!So let's begin the second chapter...G.A.R.S. Chapter 2: The anvilInterludeThe room was dark, cold and humid. And it sucked! He really hated this job, but he had no choice... Red Hair Mark tried to get all those negative thoughts out of his mind, the Master could catch them and Mark bet he wouldn't be very pleased. He left the wooden box on the ground, inside that silly star painted with chalk, pentagram the Master said it was called. Silly star was easier and more graphic. Putain, quelle merde de travail!. But again, he forced himself to erase all the critics from his mind and, kneeling on the ground (he also hated that, but again, he had no choice), concentrated his thoughts.- Master... Master... Here you have, the box with the iron objects, as you ordered.After some unpleasant instants of silence, Mark "heard" in his mind the omnious voice of the Master.- Stupid! It was an easy job and you messed it all! You deserve to be punished.Red Hair Mark felt as if a hundred of needles buried in his brain. Then each nerve of his body began to hurt as if he had jumped on a molten lava pit. Mark screamed in agony while tried to focus his mind.- mercy, Master, mercy! I brought you the box, Master, it wasn't my fault if those heroes appeared! mercy!As suddenly as it appeared, the pain vanished.- Well, you have another chance. But don't fail me now, or you will suffer... Open the box, show me the objects.Mark opened the box carefully, and took the four iron pices from it. The were cold at touch, way colder than the alreaady cold room. The first one seemed a carved hammer, the second, a ornate ceremonial mask; the third object looked as a two bladed dagger, and the last one was an iron sheet engraved with symbols that seemed to move if Mark tried to fix his eyes on them.- Well, well, well... The Hammer of Swartcha, the Mask of the Unnamed One, the dagger of Nyalp and the Ritual of the Thousand Deaths. At last they are mine!Mark sighed. Maybe now he could leave, forget this job and the creepy Master, and all his supernatural conneries... Too late, he discovered that his folly thoughts have been caught. For a second, his brain hurt again, reminding him who was on charge there.- Don't make me regret my mercy, Red Hair Mark. Your mission haven't finished yet. Maybe it won't ever finish. But by now, let's center ourselves in your next task. The Anvil of Stone...<img src="http://www.drowstar.com/gars/images/banner03.gif" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " data-size="" style="" />Next one tomorrow Your comments are always welcome!</blockquote>

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