The original heroes fall is too long to repost in one comment.

But the link is https://lemmy.world/comment/16264684

The writingprompts c/ on .world got shuttered in favor of this one, and I switched to this account as well, so not everything is in this account history.

The scene with Tobias has two vampires and Tobias’ demon, a canine looking rabishu (a type of spirit with real world mythology, but very different from the fictional version used by me).

That is what he means. If he can’t keep her, he doesn’t care about the rest of the universe. He’ll take whatever they can manage to have until…

It may help to know that the origin of the character was from a previous prompt about a “groundhog day” superhero. I’ll copy in the story as a separate response here.

But, originally, he led a fairly linear life. The backward skips were bad, but he didn’t lose much. He gained because he could undo the bad.

But then he went waaaay back. And he’s been bouncing back and forth through the same span of time ever since.

He had gotten inured to death. He accepted that he was just gloomy to keep going, seeing the death, but apart from it because the only thing that mattered was fixing those deaths.

And then he met her. And his entire universe shifted. He’s seen her die. At least once, likely more. That’s breaking him. That’s shifting his goal from saving the world to just not losing her.

Which is probably a bit spoilerish, but the whole thing is burning in my brain currently, so it needs out

Don’t know if you’re interested, but I had another scene work it’s way out of my head, and posted it here as a second comment

So, a scene popped into my head. One of a handful. I’m not sure how they’ll come out, if they ever do, but I reckon that it might be welcome here rather than waiting for a different prompt, or trying to get everything in one place before it does come out.

First draft status, and I’m not sure if the end bit works or not, so it might stand change if I manage to get more out of me.

Heroes Fall, third short.

“Baby, come to bed. It’s three in the morning.”

“Can’t. Don’t wanna do it again.”

“I wasn’t going to jump your bones. C’mon, you’ve got a ton of ammo already. It’ll be enough.”

“You still make me laugh, Ms Kincaid. I want spares to give to the national guard this time. Last time, five of them were pinned down and got taken out by Devastation. I gotta try loading them up. They’re the only ones that died last pass.”

“Shush. You only call me Ms Kincaid when you’re feeling nostalgic. How many more do you need?”

“I’m always nostalgic for you. It took a hundred rounds to knock him out last time. Would be easier if I could just kill him. Wanna give them double that.”

“Move over ‘Eternus’, let me help. I’ll load powder, you finish, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay love. Thanks Ev.”

“You know, one of these days I’m going to retire from the network and turn full time reloader. Any chance we’ll be able to get to my parents’ this weekend? I want to tell them the news.”

“Not sure. I only took a short break after the last run. Two days, then I ate lead salad and came back. But I think things were clear enough that the team didn’t need me on the origin cycle. Worst case, it takes me a few weeks to handle whatever might come up and then I’ll be able to free it up.”

“Have you thought more about the pills?”

"Yeah, a little. Was pondering on it while I was working. I’ve gotten better control over how far I go back each time. Origin cycle, it was always that same day, or the night before, no more than twenty four hours though. After I cycled back when the Kitain killed me, it was all over the place. Weeks, months, a year in one case. I’m just worried that a suicide pill might fuck things up.

I’ve been poisoned a few thousand times, and Rabid sure loved to add toxins to his disease aura. Always came through fine But if anything fucks my memory, I don’t know what might happen. Maybe voluntary changes things. Can’t risk that."

“Donald, you say you blow your brains out often enough that I can’t get the image out of my head despite never seeing it.”

“Sorry Ev.”

“That’s not my point. Shush. If your actual brain being shredded doesn’t screw your memory, why would a cocktail of gentler things?”

“I don’t know. Most of my deaths are sudden, fast. The ones that haven’t been were at least with me conscious right until the end. Every cocktail you and the doc have suggested includes something to knock me out, and they’re slow so it doesn’t hurt. What if that fucks things up? What if I’ve already tried it, and I’m on a permanent loop that I can’t fix unless I don’t take them? What if. What if. That should be my fucking call name.”

“I wish…”

“Yeah, love?”

“I just wish it was easier. Better. Different.”

“I’m used to it now, if I’m being honest. There’s times I think about doing repeats for the good things.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Nah. Don’t want to spoil them. Our first date. I had to repeat that once, and I was terrified I’d fuck it up. Trying to navigate the little things that make us us? What if I fucked it up and you hated me?”

“Oh, Don, baby, I’ll always love you. I always will have loved you. Whatever it is that makes you recycle, it wouldn’t dare try to steal that from us. It would be too cruel.”

“I love you Evelyn. More than I love anything in this whole fucking universe. I’d let it all fucking burn for one night with you. Let’s get some sleep.”

I’ll let it all fucking burn if the Kitain take her again. Take her and just run.

Thanks :)

I never thought I would dip back into that world again, mainly because the first trip was so specialized. But this prompt made my brain flash hard, and I had to.

And now I’ve got this idea bubbling around with five others I never get around to expanding lol.

"Nobody gets it. The time, the money, the research that goes into it. That’s before the range time, of course.

You see, if you are running into the kind of conflicts our team gets into with no combat powers, and you want to make it long enough to swing the fight, you need something.

Most of the time, I favor a heavily modified .45. My main handgun started life as a Colt, standard seven round magazine, nothing fancy. I inherited it from my grandfather. He was a Naval officer and did competition shooting both for the Navy and as civilian once he retired, and this was his carry, rather than a competition gun.

At first, I just polished everything to make it feed smoother. Then I started tweaking until it’s this monster that can take very high powder loads while still cycling with subsonic rounds for poo and giggles. The magazines I make for it hold fourteen, though I had to expand the frame and if a mag gets trashed, it takes a couple of days to replace.

But that’s my “oh crap, I gotta run” gun. I keep it on me 24/7 because I never know when the alarm will go off, and Shift has been known to pull people out of bed into the briefing room, or even into the field.

I have the usual assortment of versatile long guns too, plus a modified revolver that can take an assortment of calibers because of some springs and careful machining. I favor 5.56, 12 gauge, .308 and 300 winmag because they’re easy to find if I run out of my custom ammo. There’s better options, of course, but I can think of a dozen times in the last decade where I had to buy from local stores during extended fights.

But it’s the ammo that makes me effective in normal fights. Between knowing some top notch molecular manipulators and inventors, added to my willingness to experiment with propellant and materials, I can usually keep a few magazines in every caliber for common threats.

Like my Ragnarok stuff. All of those villains take unusual gear to even scratch. Nuke can be taken down by depleted uranium in a pinch, but he regenerates so fast, and can use them in his own way to power up his explosive nature. So I have a custom round just for him. Can’t share the specs, but it’s a laminated round, layers of different materials including some enchanted metals. As the round does its job, it neutralizes parts of his powers.

Back before we had to permanently put Rabid down, I had an exploding round that spread nanobots to counter his infectious range enough to get close and secure him. He hated me something fierce. Not just because I shot him a lot. The nanobots left him weak and confused for weeks after he’d heal up physically.

It’s mostly about prep time."

“But, Eternus, the question was how you can survive so well without powers, but let’s table that for now. You said no combat powers, does that mean you do have them? What can you do?”

“Well, Ms Kincaid, that’s classified. All I can say is that it allows me to have prep time and room to develop both my gear and skills”

“So, time manipulation?”

“That’s classified”

“Classified by who?”

“That’s classified.”

“Eternus, you agreed to this interview, why won’t you answer the actual questions?”

"That’s classified.

No, contain yourself. That one was a joke. I am answering them. Where operational security allows. But I’m a person. I don’t necessarily answer things the way you want because I largely go with the flow of consciousness. I also don’t have an obligation to answer things I don’t want to. If you ask me boxers or briefs, I’m walking out because it’s none of your business, nor anyone else’s.

But here, the way I survive without combat powers is trusting my team, and them trusting me to not shoot until I’m certain it will achieve a goal. I only shoot a person if there’s no other choice, even with less lethal ammunition. I only shoot animals, or any living thing, as a last resort. I have no issues dumping rounds into machinery, spirits, or other non living, non human entities that are a threat to humanity.

But when I need to shoot? I don’t miss, and I use the right tool for the job. Which loops us back around to where this particular subject started. Time, money, research, practice. That’s how I do it."

“That is still evasive. What people want to know is how you do it, and now that we know you have some kind of power, they will want to know that too.”

"Ms Kincaid. After everything I just said, including that the information is classified, do you really think I chose to say it that way by accident? A slip of the tongue? No, ma’am, it’s ammunition being sent to a target. You’re the rifle. The information that I do have a non combat power, and that I am a fantastic marksman is the ammunition that will neutralize a target.

This is my first interview, ever. You, of the entire list of journalists that have requested one, got picked because you are the right weapon for the job. So, if you’ll be kind enough to help me off with this microphone, I’ll be on my way.

Unless you need to be oiled and cleaned."

“Key-rist Eternus, did you really need to add that last part?”

"Well, yeah, General. It wasn’t an accident. That was the sixtieth version of things, and I needed something to snap her out of her laser focus on my power. That it also bumped her anger a little, and worked as a pickup line just helps make sure things work this time around. Maybe. I’ll have to see.

All I know is that we need to recruit Generator instead of fighting her. Can’t do that if her sister gets killed. Can’t keep her alive if she doesn’t trust me. She hasn’t trusted me because she thinks I can’t protect her.

So far, even telling her everything hasn’t worked. The closest I got was when I lost my temper after the fifth run through and she tore into me after the camera was off, but cooled down enough after an apology to at least listen when I showed up at her door with the usual “come with me if you want to live” bullshit that Streak hates.

So I called an audible. And I think it worked, Max. After the mic was off and I was leaving, her approach was totally different this time. More open, less aggressive. She just asked what I meant by it. I told her “That’s classified” and she laughed. I haven’t gotten a laugh out of her in, what; a hundred years of subjective time?"

“Eternus, this plan of yours, stopping the Kitain, how many times have you come back? I know I’ve asked before, but this is the first you mentioned how long you’ve been at this one step, and you’ve never even said that much before.”

"I don’t know. Max, I just don’t know. I’m barely hanging on here. Trying to keep track of every fight, every little encounter, pinning down that Generator is the only one that can let future us make the next step. Fuck Max, I think it’s maybe a thousand years now? Maybe more. Back and fucking forth, eating a damn bullet every year or two, having to redo every fucking fight, sometimes multiple times to get a different outcome than my first cycle back to see if that works?

I can’t even write the shit down because it won’t come with me. And I think I love her now."

“Eternus, let it out man, let it out, I got you brother, just cry it out.”

I’m fine either way, though a warning to folks that not all apps support piefed would not go amiss if you decide to do the swap

Thanks a lot :)

Alright. This isn’t exactly a proper response to the prompt, but it’s either a partial step to one, and/or a way of saying that the answer isn’t easy to get, so nobody really knows in that universe. I’m pondering on this being a part one or the totality of it.

“C’mon Rover, there’s gotta be more, mate!”

“I still think he was fucking with you.”

“You said you were there!”

“No, I said I was an ancient evil that was around when you jumped up monkeys left your planet.”

“Doesn’t that imply that you were there later too?”

“I wasn’t bloody everywhere. You think a shadowy, sulfurous scented demon would be able to just hang around while a crowd watched some guys getting crucified?”

“Not now that you say it, but I’m used to you now.”

“Awww, that’s sweet! Can I get some belly rubs? Maybe some behind the ear action?”

“You’re a bloody menace. If you get horny again, I’m out though, and you’ll bloody well spill while I do it.”

"Ahhh, yeah! That’s the spot!

Tobias mate, you are a product of a culture that lacks the frame of reference for a lot of things. You don’t even properly understand what I am, and you’re petting me. You need to realize that things were different then. Magic was broken and had been fading for a long time, and by the time Jesus came around, only the most powerful of you generally magically weak apes could even weave a minor illusion, much less open a passage into the planes for something like me.

I wasn’t here at that point in time, I was caught up in all the changes and wars that started when magic broke. When you damned monkeys got too big for your britches and did the breaking, rather. I didn’t even look like this before! The point I’m making is that the actions of one of you spreading a cult that didn’t try to call on my type of thing wasn’t important. We only got third and fourth hand rumors.

The whole Jesus thing is like that. By the time I even heard the name Jesus, he’d been dead for a long time. So I don’t really know if any of the biblical rigamarole is accurate, or if it was that Jesus was anything other than a really strong magic user pulling off a trick to make people think he was dead after his cult got too much attention."

“What were the rumors then?”

"There weren’t many at the time. The only thing I heard was that some obscure god was trying to set itself up to last through the weakened magic by getting everyone too pray to it, playing a long game. You’d have to ask Yahweh if that was actually him or not, I sure don’t know.

Hey, do the other ear, yeah?"

“If you don’t get to the point, I’m gonna have you neutered!”

"I don’t have balls you jackass, I’m a demon. I only look like I have balls because the spiritual matter of me is shaped by the minds of man.

Anyway, the rumor was that this Joshua, or jesu, or yeshua, or whatever variant would get used had been recruited by a god to start a new religion, and hoover up many followers as possible. That the guy did a decent job of it, and had his followers convinced he was demigod or some such. The whole resurrection thing was not a new idea in that regard. Reborn godlings and demigods were a dime a dozen before magic broke and the gods drifted away.

So, yeah, maybe he could have been a vampire. Or he could have been a good faker. Why don’t you ask him?"

“How the bloody hell would I do that?”

“He’s right behind you.”

"What?!

Oh, you fucker. No more scritches for you today. But, really, how would I ask?"

“I dunno, either talk to one of his priests, find a way to the realm of the gods, maybe call in favors with someone that can talk to gods directly.”

“A vampire walking into a church seems a rubbish idea.”

“Oh, these new Christians aren’t that bad. They don’t automatically assume your type are evil, and even if they did, the whole forgiveness and kindness thing their deity preaches would give you enough time to start running. Can’t guide you to repent if they drive a stake in your heart.”

“Good for them, a stake would just piss me off. You think one of the priests would really answer?”

“Maybe, but the real question is if Jesus would give them an answer, or if they’d just give you the soft sell and sucker you in.”

“You really think it’s a good idea?”

“I’m a demonic creature, I think eating people is a good idea. This just seems entertaining.”

“Fuck it then, let’s off!”

This is another one that sparked an idea, but hasn’t worked yet. I’ve typed couple of intro dialogue exchanges, but haven’t gotten to where it works yet. Still grinding away at it in the back of my head though.

Part of the problem is that I’m torn between keeping it in my established universe, with the character I’ve used a few times here; and doing something out of that setting, but which would require a little world building setup to make sense with the concept in my brain.

When I resumed, I decided to gloss over slitting the throats of the cattle, the blood being caught by college students in large bowls so that I might dip into them as I walked the circle with Timothy and the same blade I used to make the sacrifice. I did tell them that the blood serves to both carry energy and give a visible demarcation of the circle.

I glossed less over when telling them of the two sacrifices standing docile next to the fossilized remains. Those two were there to provide part of the missing mass. Which did cause a round of questions, easily shushed by telling them it would be apparent enough.

I skipped most of the details of the ritual, as I know damn good and well someone would have gotten the idea to try it. Teenagers have ever been the same. I know damn good and well if magic had been back in full swing at that age, I would have.

But I did describe the feeling of energy, both from the sacrifices and from my own wellsource, flowing out of me, flowing into the crumpled fragments at my feet. The feeling of those petrified things sucking in both blood and the life force it carries until an inaudible, but palpable peal rang out and the bones began struggling upright. The mummified soft tissues began filling in.

That in particular was a tricky bit of work, as it was not so much actual tissue as a scaffold of minerals that held the same shape, with only microscopic traces of actual organic matter present. I had not been certain from the initial examination that first organics were from the dinosaur at all. Only that they had once been skin or connective tissue. The explanation of what that feels like paused my retelling long enough the teacher urged me back on the original story.

Return I did. I described watching and feeling five odd tons of matter flowing invert under my hands, pulling energy from me in nigh orgasmic agony as the power throbbed through me. I used different words than that, but I speak more bluntly here.

When I felt the energy straining, I had an undergrad bring one of the reserve sacrifices over. Quickly cutting its throat, I channelled the flow of blood across the now recognizable saurian. With a surge of my own wellsource, I cast a secondary spell to dissolve the cow, pulling its flesh and bone to fill in what no amount of my own energy could. As that supply began dwindling, I repeated the process with the second reserve animal.

As the dregs of meat washed across and into the now pulsing form, I shouted out the triplicate word of command that would both finalize the ritual, and ensure that the zombie would follow only my commands. You see, I had made mistakes in my youth, raising for others. Nothing that massive, but it is not enjoyable having to hunt down one of your own creations being used as a weapon against you and your allies

With that shout, the ankylosaur grunted and roared once.

It stomped its forefoot and swung its tail, the massive club at the end whistling through the air despite its size. Collegians whooped around me at the sight of the beast moving its head to orient on me. I reached out, and it lowered itself enough for me to rest my palm on its beak. The undead creature was as tall as I at the shoulder, and perhaps the length of a small bus.

Timothy sniffed its hindquarters and sent me a mental note of satisfaction. I had to explain to the high schoolers that while I can perceive scents and other senses through Timothy, I had opted not to do so in that particular spot. No, through his nose, the dinosaur mostly smelled of zombie. That is an earthy, musty, and somewhat nose rustling scent. Some find it objectionable, particularly when odors of decay are present. I do not raise ill smelling undead under normal circumstances.

Underneath that was a hint of musk, traces of something almost crocodilian, and perhaps some peaty warmth. There is no way of knowing how much of that was its natural smell, and how much was from its long time in the earth.

What was certain is the divots a five ton creature were forming in the field. This was noted with some colorful language by the man that would have to repair them before the next game. Something about that giant lizard needing to copulate itself off his grass.

Lucky for us, we had no need to pay him any mind, so said thunder lizard just swished its tail in his general direction. And yes, said saurian was indeed under my control. Let that be a reminder that playing pranks on an old man that can riase the dead would be unwise, yes? That directed at young Mr Collins, who had already had one special delivery from Timothy on his porch after thinking it brilliant to throw eggs at my porch. Timothy cannot digest most food, but he can excrete the results of trying.

In any case, the high school students were then more interested in the dinosaur than the necromancy involved. Justifiably so.

I did, indeed, also demonstrate a simple raising for them before leaving. Several flies had died in the window of the classroom, and made for a lively example of a simple raising using only one’s own blood.

“Mr Byrnes, why the hell are you telling me this?”

“Well, Benjamin, you asked how I could be so sure that my new defenses are adequate. While I lost the Djinn guarding our shared secret when last someone tried to breach it, I am not without resources.”

“You have that zombie dinosaur?!”

“No, no, that one was laid back to rest. Besides, while certainly fierce enough and quite durable, a good guardian must needs also be frightening, and evena dinosaur that size is less scary when it looks like it has as much malice as a tired cow. No, I obtained… other remains.”

“Leland, what did you get?”

“Let us just say that the terrible king of lizards should put pause to any interlopers.”

Sorry it took so long, I can be slow at times.

Show and Tell, a Leland Byrnes short.

I was dubious when Lillian first asked me to be her guest at school. She has been taking care of my birds and goats since she was in jr high, but rarely had time for me, beyond being generically kind to an old man.

Thus it was a surprise that she wanted me to visit at all, though I was the only serious practitioner she was very familiar with. It being an introduction to magics class did make more sense. While working up to asking me, she said that she had bragged a little, and perhaps said that we were close enough she could promise I would come.

That explained why she had been jumpy the last two days while feeding the hens.

I value my neighbors, and Lillian in particular. While I did scold her mildly for not asking me before bragging, and then not coming to me immediately so that I could shift my work schedule, the truth was that work had been slow, thankfully.

I am a forensic necromancer. I raise the dead so that justice may be furthered.

That was the subject matter I spoke on, the role of magic in law enforcement in general, and necromancy in specific, though I did make sure to inform them about the other main career paths for a necromancer; medical and mortuary.

After my presentation, I opened up for questions. Being mostly juniors and seniors, the questions were lagrely practical. Until Lillian herself prodded a friend to speak up

“Mr Byrnes, whats the coolest things you’ve raised?”

“They all tend to be cool. Cool as the grave.”

“No! I mean like interesting, or biggest, or oldest, or just something that’s more than the usual.”

My attempt at humor having failed, I thought for a moment. "I suppose the most interesting was when some paleontologists contacted me. I often receive inquiries from historians and the like, requesting I help them learn of the past by my unique skills. I rather enjoy that kind of work, being a fossil myself.

But these were the first paleontologists to come to me.

They asked how old a body I could raise. The answer, of course, is that so long as I can find some connection, some way to bridge my magic to the physical location where the remains were, there was no limit. The limit was largely that the longer ago a body decayed, the less likely it is to find that connection.

Of course, that is not to say something truly ancient would be easy. It would also require great sacrifice. Necromancy always requires sacrifice. You can not raise the dead without exchanging life. For something simple and recent, that can be mere drops of your own blood."

Here, there was a clamor begging for demonstration. I told the horde to shush and if there was time after, yes.

I continued telling them what I had told the paleontologists, “For something truly old, it will take a great deal of life.”

The teens asked me for particulars, as the professors had. As a general rule, it is not so much the size of the sacrifice, it is the life force the sacrifice has. Past a certain point, there is simply not enough in one living thing to raise something from dust. The difference in energy from a chicken to a goat is significant, but not exponential. The difference between a goat and a cow is even slimmer. Past that, you could try to sacrifice a whale and gain less extra energy than sacrificing two or three cows, despite the relatively high degree of consciousness a whale has. And that does factor in. Human sacrifice outperforms even a dozen cattle, though not by an astounding degree.

I told the students that, as I had the researchers. Then continued with the story, "the good doctors then asked how big a thing could be raised. No fool I, the thrust of their inquiry had shifted from probable to certain. I told them then that I had once successfully raised a recently dead elephant, and that size matters little or not in the effort involved or the sacrifice required.

The three doctors became quite excited. They showed me pictures of a partial skeleton, with what appeared to be some significant soft tissue. “How old would this be?”

They hemmed and hawed and said the specimen was approximately 68 million years old. Mind you, they first said during the cretaceous, which was a term I was not familiar with at that point. They told me it was an ankylosaur, and showed me images of what they seem to have looked like. Cute, for a giant lizard.

It was mostly a delay on my part, asking questions while I figured out exactly how hard it would be, and what kind of sacrifices would be needed. In my mind, that I would accept the job was decided.

So a time and place was eventually set.

As you may not be aware, allow me to say that preparing a large number of sacrifices is always labor intensive. You are either toting crates of chickens, herding goats or sheep, whatever the need be. Herding cattle into the University of California at San Diego’s football stadium through passageways not meant for hooves is both noisesome and smelly. Not that I was doing the herding, that job went to undergraduate students. Several of those were from the Magical Studies Department for extra credit and exposure to large scale necromancy, which is a very rare thing to have access to even as a professional.

Thus it was that a small herd were carefully lined up and restrained around where I had laid out the working circle. The magic department had several natural mages teaching, and they provided calming spells to keep the sacrifices in place and unconcerned about the fates of the others.

Inside the circle, laid out with chalk grudgingly applied by the groundskeeper for the stadium, the remains of an ankylosaurus were arranged roughly center. I must admit that both the prospect of working at such scale, and a degree of curiosity had me eager to begin.

As Timothy and I walked the edge of the circle, he sniffing and extending his other canine senses to be certain no spirits or other entities would be present to interfere, I was pulling in external energy to supplement my own.

Here, the classroom grew distracted again, asking about my “zombie dog”. This almost led to a snit on my part, as Timothy is no simple zombie, but Lillian spoke up and shushed the room and asked me to continue. More than one reason she has a key to my home and land.

Part 2 continued as response to this comment

“I still do not understand. It is a religious letter?”

“Mate, the letter is no more religious than any other. It isn’t a letter at all, they just look similar. Wait, are you taking the piss? What planet did you say you’re from?”

“I do not take… piss. I am from Kezinar, planet of blood and storms, home of what you here on earth call vampires. I am simply saying that it is inconsistent. Why that shape, and not other religious ones?”

"Mental block. Like a placebo effect, except sometimes Jesus or some other deity actually backs up their worshippers with some holy light. But that’ll zap anything, not just us.

But, let’s get back to the vampire planet again. What the actual fuck are you on about? Why’ve I never heard of this?"

"It is great secret. When magic returned, the ripple went across the galaxy from earth. Those of us out there had thought earth dead, after magic left and we were all isolated on our own worlds. We come here, there is war among the gods, all stomping on this world. We watch. When war stops, we contact UN. They say you not ready for this, after war. Give it a decade or two.

Holy fire is bad, yes. But if little t not glowing, why you earth vampires act scares, like it burn?"

“Nah, nah, mate, you aren’t getting off that easy. Are you saying vampires came from space?”

“You answer mine, I answer yours, yes?”

“Fine, Rover, did you know any of this shit?” Tobias looked down to his rabishu companion.

“What? Space vamps? Of course. And the others. The infernal realm touches all of it. And I was around back when it first happened.”

“And you didn’t fucking tell me this?”

“You didn’t ask. You only ask me to scare people. You forget I am an ancient evil.”

“For fucks sake. Anyway, Count spaceula, fine, straight info trade. Vampires here all started as humans. Humans still think books and movies match reality until they find out otherwise. They get turned, see the cross, and they don’t bother to think about whether or not they actually feel anything. It’s a meme.”

"I think you think you insult me with this count name. I am reading Stoker. His imaginary vampire knew how to instill respect. A skill I may have to instill in you, infant. Like your demon puppy, I am an ancient power. Unlike it, I can shred you.

Here is respect. You answered me, I answer you now, peon Tobias. Vampires did not come from space. Humans went to space, find Kezinar. There, the blood power found them, the symbiote inside you and me. It like humans enough to bond with them. Is no evil, just power. Some of them travel back to earth, to make trade and bring back knowledge.

Now, tell me if other letters scare earth vampires same way."

"Sorry, mate, I get a bit mouthy when my mind is blown. No insult meant.

Yeah, sometimes other symbols will scare people after they turn, if their culture has the references. But nothing is as directly linked in public consciousness to the level of the cross. Fecking monotheists dominated the planet for a long time. Star of David in particular works, but the polytheists tend not to have single symbols that are tied into vampire lore.

But any time one god or another fires up a symbol, rumors get around, and new suckers think it’s the symbol itself, not the power behind it.

You’re telling me that humans went into space and became vampires? When the fuck was this?"

"I am not exact in my knowledge of history and years. It was before magic was damaged. That was long before I was born, long enough that our records are not well kept. I think in your years, it would be almost fifteen thousand? Perhaps more. Maybe as much as twenty thousand years. The journey was longer then than it is now. To reach Kezinar was said to take ten years if flown straight. Now it is perhaps a month in a trade vessel. Since magic has returned, improvements in faster than light travel have been made. The fastest ships may take only days.

Why do the humans here still fear this Jesus? He is god of peace and charity, yes?"

"Well, yeah, but e’s a bit of a temper on him. Peaceful, but don’t fuck about, right? There’s stories in the old book about him beating the shit out of people ripping the faithful off in temples or some such. He’ll give you the literal robe off his back, but if you step on the toes of his followers, well, he’s also one of the gods that beat the god of chaos and ended the god wars. He don’t fuck about. His new new testament is all flowers and love, but he’s still got drops of the old Testament in him, him and Yahweh both.

How many ‘others’ are there? Rover here said others."

"I am not supposed to say much, we are only now being allowed to come legally here. There are we Kezinarans, vampires. The ones you call weres, therianthropes, they too have a similar origin, though that planet is different in many ways from mine. The other races descended from humans prefer not to be known in detail yet, as none of them had any of their ancestors stranded here when magic crashed.

But there are four major human descended peoples, and branches of those beyond vampires and weres, and some smaller groups. There are species not of human origin as well, but they avoid our spaces unless they have great need. Only two of the human diaspora are interested in coming to earth again, aside from we and the weres.

You still have not said why the t is the symbol of this Jesus."

"Bloody hell, you don’t know that story? I thought you did and were just confused.

Look, about two thousand years ago, Jesus was just this guy, right? Kind of kooky, had his little cult, right? Well, he pisses off the wrong people and gets sentenced to death. The nation in charge liked to take two big sticks and nail people to them. It’s called a cross in english, because the big sticks, you know, cross. The letter looking the same is coincidence.

Anyway, ol’ Jesus is either the son of a deity, thinks he is, or has conned people into thinking that. So he gets nailed up on the sticks and dies, as one does.

A few days later, he supposedly comes back from the dead all zombie like. Shows off a bit, then fucks off to heaven, where his supposed da rules the universe. He downplays that story nowadays though.

Look, I gotta know, what’s your planet like?"

"To answer that will take many hours, and the sun rises soon. That is one difference. Our sun is gentle to us. Warm, yes. And the symbiote prefers not to be exposed too long, but it is not like the sun here that weakens and kills our little friends. Tomorrow, we will meet again and exchange knowledge.

Before then, think on this: your Jesus rose from the dead after three days. Zombies are raised by magic at any time. Does not his story match that of your own rebirth more than any other?"

“Ah, fuck, me. Rover?”

Thanks :)

Well, that mail name may be a barrier lol

But, obviously, admins are still doing something, because the instance stays up and running. You’re better off contacting them directly though. It can be a pain to navigate, but a dm to an admin usually gets more attention than a post to an unrelated community.

@gabe@literature.cafe

Edit: fwiw, I’m a mod for this community, but not an admin for the instance, nor an instance wide moderator.

“You what, mate?”

“You may not pass, without paying the toll. I did not stutter, mortal.”

“First, I’m not mortal, I’m a bloody vampire. And why should I pay you you to cross into a place your infernal self has no claim over?”

“Possession is 9/10ths of the law?”

“Bollocks to that. Look, you are standing at the foot of a representation of the bridge to the afterlife. You’re a bloody demon, you’d be in five different kinds of trouble if I call down an angel, or any of the psychopomp deities or entities. Bloody hell, you’re not even a major demon, you’re just a bloody rabishu.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m here, you pay the toll, or I bite you if you try to cross.”

“You bite me, I bite back, no matter how foul demon blood tastes. And I’ll win, eventually. Then where will you be?”

“I will be right here, with your bollocks in my teeth.”

“You think you’re hard, mate? You don’t know from hard.”

“Hard or not, you’ll pay the toll, or you don’t cross the Rainbow Bridge.”

“Oh, bloody hell, what’s the toll?”

“Belly rubs.”

“What?!”

“I’m a canine rabishu, are you blind?”

“No, I can bloody well see that! You want your belly rubbed?”

“Well, I saw the dogs that cross over getting theirs rubbed by the guardians and greeters. Nobody ever rubbed my belly.”

“That’s because you’re a ravenous, soul munching monstrosity! You just look vaguely canine shaped. And more wolfish than doggish, at that.”

“Well, you look like a cut rate chav dracula.”

“I… Are you taking the piss?”

“A little, yes. You don’t really look chav, just cut rate.”

“Okay doggie, let’s try again. I have to get across that fucking bridge. There’s a very good man what has a very good dog that wasn’t supposed to die. I owe that man a very big favor. Are you going to let me cross or not?”

“Are you going to rub my belly?”

“No! I’m not rubbing a demon’s belly! I’ll draw back a bloody nub!”

“I promise not to eat you if you rub my belly. I’m not a cat rabishu.”

“Aye, they are right obstreperous.”

“You’ve met some then. So, what will it be?”

“Oh, fuck me running. Lay over then, let me see that belly.”

“Ahhhhh, that’s it, that’s the spot! Oooooohhhhhh! Yes! Get that spot again!”

“Are we done here mate?”

“Um. I guess. Look, do you mind if I tag along?”

“What?”

“You know, after you get done over there. Mind if I tag along with you?”

“To do what?!”

“Um, punish the wicked on your behalf? That’s what we rabishu tend to be called to do.”

“I guess. But I already have a dog. So, if you can’t get along with Benjerman, you’re out.”

“I can live with that.”