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The Non Sequitor Thread

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Scenario in cat-itude:


Dove is finished eating, but remains seated next to the part-full bowl of crunchies.


Hobbes is seated 18 inches away, awaiting his turn.


Neither shows any inclination to move.

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My eyes swept over the devastation, watering, I told myself, from the reek of death and the acrid smoke still twisting from ruins. 


Every house had been torched; the streets were choked with the massacred townsfolk, even to the infant cloven in two lying beside the burned chunks that might have been its mother.  Broken and charred goods lay strewn about, with a few things doubtless carried off, but most merely wasted in these ruins.  The dogs had been killed and chopped up; what livestock the invaders could not capture they had shot and left dead in the pens.  Even the cats had been killed and left where they fell.  Barns had burned down, and those small conflagrations had spread to other buildings as wind and fortune had permitted and consumed what it would haphazardly.  The well had had a number of severed parts of multiple bodies dropped into it, with a child’s severed head floating face-up in the undrinkable water several yards down.  In the church a dozen or more townsfolk had been slain on the altar before the other parts of the shrine had been pulled down, and it seems that a dozen or more looters had defecated in strategic places to put further personal emphasis on the destruction.


Only the buzzing flies survived here.


My escort was silent, whether in reaction to the totality with which this village had been expunged, or out of fear of what I might do, I was unsure.  Perhaps they were unsure of that as well.


The Sight showed only the last sniggerings of the Fire That Consumes in some still-smoldering corners.  Everything was dead.  


The utterly warmthless breeze from between the stars blew through my soul as my Sight registered the path the invaders had taken on leaving.  I let its coldness possess me.


“The nature of this war has changed,” the coldness said with my voice into the silence.


“The task before us now is to exterminate their race.  Only after that will we mourn and rebuild.


“We must feast upon the tomorrows they will never have.”


The wind from the Void blew away from me, leaving the frozen bits of my humanity to rattle against each other in my heart.  On its own volition it consumed the tiny remnants of Fire as it swept over what had once been a village on its way back to the infinite emptiness from which it came.  The wind chilled my escorts’ hearts so they too saw only the starkness of the Nothing to which we had to consign our enemy.


“That way,” I pointed, and we set out.

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How to annoy your fellow players:


Play a bard. When the group is in a situation where survival rolls are necessary, offer to sing a song to boost morale. Sing the refrain from "Staying Alive." Dance moves are optional but highly recommended.

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