Perhaps you have read the story in the General section. Although, as I want to specify that these could be potential characters, I am moving it here. This time I put a poll.
Where is everybody? Why am I so alone? A corporeal Mc Kalen gazed through the swirling mist, keen on finding a living being to support and comfort him. But he found only endless void... He pleaded out to the eternal blackness, both loving it for its solitary, and loathing it for his alone, unloved self, in this twisted version of reality. The echo was neither warming nor full of painful despair, but both, bound together, Mc Kalen unable to discern them in the midst of the emptiness. Suddenly the mist thickened, and sick, demonic laughter could be heard, forming an inevitable, demoralizing ring around him. He fell to his knees, crestfallen and paralyzed, his legs weighed down by the burdening sorrow. He prayed to God, begging for salvation from whatever sins he may have committed to deserve the nightmarish fate he was being condemned to. He prayed for a companion, someone to love him and care for him amidst the pressure of the torn and pained world. And his prayers were answered.
“Lookie ‘ere d’Ortagnan, da itty bitty thief is wakin’ up. Im for thinkin’ that your dreams were nicer than that pretty bruise Portos left on your face.”
Laughter erupted around Mc Kalen, the mere sound of it stirring aggression in his broken heart. All memories before his unfortunate embrace into unconsciousness seemed distant to him now.
“Dis one has tasty meat. Me smells it. Atos has a good nose.”
Mc Kalen was now alert, although a sharp headache flared into aggression upon movement. Upon glancing at the hazy figures sitting around the fire, his first Memory returned to him. He was captured. A second Memory flared back to life, seeming upon chain reaction to the first. The four gargantuan men dressed in undersized Napoleonic military Halloween outfits seemed uncomfortably familiar.
“Yous isn’t Atos, dats me’s name.”, a second man returned angrily.
“The name is for sharin’!”, This voiced seemed to have a measure of power even as it faded, echoing off the surrounding buildings. Buildings...city. A third Memory.
“So long as ya boys don’t use me’s name, you will have to share... or it’s the end of me musket ye’ll be lookin’ into.” He fumbled clumsily his laser rifle, quickly regaining demeanour.
To Mc Kalen the spectacle was strange. The one who called himself Atos wore a gold trimmed monocle and an old military hat. They all possessed strange scabbards, which would most likely contain a blade of sorts. Mc Kalen started considering an unlikely escape before he realized the unresponsiveness of his left arm, both of which were poorly bound by a twine material.
“De little man is movin’. What should Aramis do?”. His question was directed to the gargantuan man with the commanding aura, the one whose voice stopped the petty argument.
“Me thinks we should feast”, Atos exclaimed gleefully, a trickle of saliva appearing on the corner of his mouth.
Seeing that the other three men didn’t catch his reference, he clarified, “Ya know... eat him”.
“Me wants a new Planchet.”, roared the biggest of them, the one who Mc Klaren believed was named d’Ortagnon. The others ceased babbling upon hearing the command. Planchet... the name was familiar... “The Three Musketeers”... a book. The feeling of the Memories returning was bliss incarnate. Although never reading the book, he heard the names thrown around recurrently.
“Cut the ropes, me wants to talk to the lad!” Upon hearing the order, the three other oversized men obeyed lethargically. The man continued, “I'm wanting to make a proposition wit ye.” Realizing that d’Orthagnon was addressing him, Mc Klaren directed his attention towards him.
“Me proposition is quite simple. Me and the boys let ya live but you will serve me until my word releases ye. We’s just humble slavers, we don’t bite...
“Yeah we do d’Ortagnon sir...” said Atos idiotically.
“Close the speakhole” said d’Ortagnon angrily. “Ye know better to interrupt d’Ortagnon while he is making a proposition”.
Atos lowered his head in shame.
“Well, what’s ye thinkin’?”
Mc Klaren nodded his head slowly in affirmation.
“Good!”, d'Ortagnon exclaimed joyfully. "So we's got an accord.We’s all set boys! Let’s get us some women, pillage, eat and drink till’ we can’t feel feelings no more!”
When the time came and the opportunity revealed itself, Mc Kalen would gain leverage. Until then, he was in for an adventure.
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