Shroom Man 777 wrote:I like her, she's like Luga - a whore! Whores are god's most beautiful creatures!
Are we channeling Frank Miller today?
And everyday! Everyday's a new day!
Though yeah, Dumah. We need more secksy angels! We've already got one in the stripclub, I wonder what happened to her, Stuart?
"DO YOU WORSHIP HOMOSEXUALS?" - Curtis Saxton (source) shroom is a lovely boy and i wont hear a bad word against him - LUSY-CHAN! Shit! Man, I didn't think of that! It took Shroom to properly interpret the screams of dying people - PeZook Shroom, I read out the stuff you write about us. You are an endless supply of morale down here. :p - an OWS street medic Pink Sugar Heart Attack!
"Well, we managed the fire falling from the heavens bit. Without your assistance." Michael-Lan kept his voice casual and friendly but the result stirred Belial into fury anyway.
"Then why do you keep me here? I have work to do and there is an eternity of suffering awaiting those who have betrayed me." The voice rolled and thundered around the bronze-plated lodge.
"Well, I had thought of putting you on a treadmill in my palace. Generating electricity to run my human toys is quite a problem you know. I use humans down there at the moment but they tire so easily. You'd have been very useful down there. Of course, I'd have to get a bigger treadmill made." Belial roared in anger at the concept. Michael-Lan ignored it and carried on in the same pseudo-friendly manner. "I've got a film you might like to see by the way."
He produced a DVD player and set it up. The film was of some nuclear test shots that had taken place many years before on Earth and showed the destruction inflicted on test dummies and target buildings. It closed with a shot of the crater made by the Ivy Mike test that had vaporized three quarters of an island. To Michael, it was a very satisfying film because it left Belial silent.
"We knew nothing of this." When Belial finally spoke, his voice was small and quiet with shock. "Even my lava attacks were nothing compared to this."
"I wouldn’t say that, old fellow." Michael had adopted the British accent that went with the phraseology. "Your attacks did a lot of damage and the humans want to speak with you about that. They want to speak with you very badly but don’t worry about it. You're safe up here. I've shut down all the entry points to Heaven so they can't get in."
"We never knew." Belial was still appalled by what he had seen. "Satan watched the humans, every two or three centuries he sent observers down to see if anything down there had changed. It never did, for visit after visit, everything was the same. Oh, the rulers changed, empires rose and fell, but nothing really changed. Then, this happened."
"If it's any consolation, most people in Heaven have missed it as well. Yahweh certainly did. All this happened in the last hundred years or so, in the gap between visits. If I hadn't been down there on other business, I wouldn't have seen the problem either." And that is quite definitely not true.Michael added mentally I saw something was happening much earlier than that but it was subtle, quiet. Yet it caused this explosion of destructive power and military skill. And changed me as much as it changed them. "Anyway, this brings us back to my original point. The Fourth Bowl of Wrath has been poured and the Fifth is ready. So, what do I do with you?"
Belial shook his head. "What you will. I have no power here."
"You understand perfectly. Still, as it happens I do have a job for you, one eminently suited to your talents, such as they are. You have heard of the events in the Eternal City today?" Another shake of the head from Belial. Good, then the policy of keeping you tucked away and isolated has proved its worth. "Well, there was a plot against Yahweh, a very foolish one as it happened and the League of Holy Court got in to it very quickly. All the members were arrested, their leaders are confined within the Eternal City but there were too many for the facilities there. So, we have had to establish a detention camp for the lower ranks, one far removed from the city. In his great wisdom." Michael barely stopped himself laughing. "Yahweh has decided that the command of that camp should be placed in one with millennia of expertise in punishing those who oppose him. In past millennia we would, of course, have cast them down into Hell but that option no longer exists"
Michael-Lan looked reflective for a moment. "In fact, being sent to Hell is hardly a punishment at all any more. The Humans are already at work and they are making the place quite tolerable. Anyway, we have to have a commander for that camp and Yahweh immediately thought of you. 'Why,' he said. "We have a daemon from Hell here. Let him earn his keep and make those who would betray me suffer every agony his fertile imagination can devise.' So, that is your assignment Belial. Take over this camp of traitors to Yahweh and inflict upon its inhabitants every suffering you can devise. Do not hold back, do not show any mercy to them. Make them pray for death as they consider the foul path that led to their betrayal of the One Above All. Spare them nothing Belial, those are the commands of Yahweh."
Belial rose to his feet, his eyes shining. "I will do as Yahweh orders. Tell Him my powers are at his disposal."
Sure. Michael-Lan thought. I'll tell him that. About the same time as I tell him I intend to take his throne.
"One question, Michael-Lan. Who will I have as my staff for this camp you describe?"
Michael snorted. "Recruit your own from the prisoners. You'll be surprised what some will do to save themselves from the agonies inflicted on the others."
Belial nodded, his eyes glowing with satisfaction. "So shall it be."
And when the humans get up here and find that camp, and they will, you can be sure of that, they will learn its lessons well. The lessons I want them to learn that is. And then you, you poor sap, you will have played your part in preventing the humans wiping out the Angelic Host. Now, I'm off to join Jesus and I'm going to get completely stoned. After all this hard work, I deserve it.
The Montmartre Club, Eternal City, Heaven
"What is Pennsylvania six-five thousand?" Lemuel-lan-Michael's voice was slurred. He'd been partly stoned before he'd set foot in the club and he'd sunk enough whisky since to leave him almost completely blasted.
"Pennsylvania is a human way of saying 'praises to the Lord of All'. So, it just means 'sixty-five thousand praises to Our Immaculate Father." Perpetiel explained the line without wincing at the distortion involved. "See how the people chant it with triumph? These may be human ways but they all serve to increase people's devotion to The One Above All. Perhaps it was the discovery of these new ways of praising Him that brought about this increase in their powers." Perpetiel did wince at that, although Lemuel was too drunk to notice.
The evening had been carefully chosen. It was big band night, the usual floorshow of exotic dancers and erotic exhibitions were on hold while the various bands that Michael-Lan had so carefully saved from the Pit competed to put on the best show. At the end of the battle, the patrons would vote on the issue and the winning band would have bragging rights for a whole month. That was a prize worth having since money was of little value to them. Up on the stage, the Glen Miller Orchestra transitioned smoothly into Tuxedo Junction. The floor girls noted the difference in the music and started to circulate amongst the clientele. This was the last number and there would be a pause while the customers ordered fresh drinks and food.
Lemuel noted the change in the music also and his foot tapped the floor in rhythm with the beat. This really was an excellent way of worshiping Our Immaculate Father, he thought. There's a fervor and dedication here that I have never seen before. "Who is the singer? Her voice is beyond compare."
Perpetiel squinted at the stage. "That's Bessie Smith. She's really hot . . . . holy and devout." He cursed the stumble brought on by too much liquor. "Her anthems of praise to He Who Reigns Over all are inspiring to hear."
Lemuel agreed, although he couldn’t quite work out how the words he was hearing, 'They all drive or walk for miles
To get jive that southern style,' was a hymn of praise. He missed the next few words but then another line solved the mystery for him. 'Come on down, forget your care. Come on down, you'll find me there.' Lemuel was deeply touched by the wonderful tribute to The Eternal Father's love for all his subjects and he could feel a tear beginning to form in the corner of his eyes.
Perpetiel noted the reaction and realized Lemuel had reached the maudlin' stage of being drunk. That meant the timing was just about right. He waved unobtrusively to Charmeine-Lan. She nodded and turned to one of the female angels who were working the floor. For a year now, Charmeine and Michael had been playing 'break the cutie' with the girl with just this meeting in mind.
"You know what to do Maion. You've had enough practice. Everything perfectly clear?"
Maion nodded. She'd had a year to learn her part in this game although she hadn't the slightest idea what that part was or even that she was a piece in the game being played. In fact, she had no idea that there was a game in play. What she did know was that, once her shock and horror at what her work here entailed had worn off, she'd appreciated the security it provided. In this case, security was defined as an uninterrupted and guaranteed supply of heroin.
Lemuel was still trying to focus his mind on the words of the hymn when the female angel moved in next to him. "Some food, most honored Ophanim? And a fresh drink?"
He started at the words and then looked at the tray she had brought. A blend of fresh fruits in a sweetened cream sauce, topped with some strange, tiny, multi-colored rods. The fruit in sweet cream was one of his favorite dishes, something he had not eaten for weeks. Not since Onniel had ceased to perform her duties as his mate. That thought gave Lemuel a strange, unfamiliar feeling in his groin. Was it the long period since Onniel had provided her proper services to him? Or was it the Hashmallim female who was now sitting beside him. He squinted up his eyes, they seemed remarkably reluctant to focus, and took in the sight. She was beautiful, although very thin, and was wearing a version of reverential robes that seemed to be much smaller than the ones he'd seen elsewhere. Poor girl, he thought a little muzzily. She probably can't afford enough cloth to make the robes full-size.
"Thank you . . . ." He hesitated. "What is your name?"
"I am Maion, honored Ophanim."
"Thank you Maion. I am Lemuel-lan-Michael."
Across the table, Perpetiel-lan-Paschar grinned to himself. Lemuel was so drunk and stoned he hadn’t noticed that he had stumbled out with his real name. Maion, however was perfectly on cue. "Oh, Our Eternal Father be praised, that I should have the honor of serving the great Lemuel. I am told you saved He Who Is Above Us All from a foul plot today."
Lemuel reached out for the two wooden sticks that were used to pick up the fruit. He tried to hold them properly but his fingers weren't working very well and he dropped them. Maion quickly reached out and picked them up for him. "Most honored Lemuel-lan, if you would put your head in my lap, I will be privileged to help you eat. May I only ask that you tell me the story of how you exposed the machinations of those dreadful traitors?"
Maion moved careful and lowered Lemuel's head into her lap. Then, she reached out to the bowl of fruit and carefully speared a piece that he knew to be his favorite. She dropped it into his mouth with exquisite care and watched fondly as he chewed it with delight. Charmeine-lan had explained that this was her chance to hook a permanent patron, one who would reserve her so she wouldn’t have to go with clients from the showroom floor any more. That had been incentive enough but already she was sensing that beneath his drunkenness, Lemuel was a kind man who would treat her well. Or at least not treat her badly. She picked up another piece of fruit for him, carefully remembering how Charmeine-lan had briefed her on what were his favorites and which he disliked. She had watched this dish being prepared to make sure that it would be ideal for him.
"What are these strange things?" Lemuel's question indicated the odd little colored things.
"They are called sprinkles exalted Lemuel-lan. A human sweet intended for such dishes. You like them?"
"Very much." Maion relaxed as Lemuel started a long, rambling story of how he had compared lists and gathered reports about the conspiracy against Yahweh. Even though she had managed the first step and was carefully make sure he was being fed with his preferred foods, he listened very carefully to what he was staying, remembering to look enraptured by the account. She gave little gasps of excitement when he told of how comparing the contents of two reports had revealed yet another name for the growing list of those who would betray The Eternal Father. Perpetiel-lan-Paschar winked at her but she ignored him. Her attention was focussed on Lemuel, determined to convince him that she was drinking in every word he had to say. Eventually, the long, semi-coherent story was over, the food dish was empty and the supply of drinks had run out. Lemuel was semi-asleep despite his efforts, and the music from the bands had quietened to a background melody. He was a very happy Ophanim, his gloom and depression gone. It had been a long time since he had been the center of attention and affection like this.
"Would you like to go to a room upstairs?" Maion asked softly. "To reverence Our Immortal Lord of course." She held her breath, this was the key moment.
"Upstairs?" Lemuel tried to get his mind around the concept. "I would like that."
Charmeine-lan seized her moment. Maion was doing well, now it was necessary to add the sealing touch. "There will be a charge of ten talents to take Maion upstairs, noble Ophanim. It will be twenty if you wish to beat her, thirty if you wish to hit her in the face."
"Beat her?" Lemuel was furious. "What sort of people are you? Who do you think I am? You disgust me."
Charmeine-lan dropped to her knees, her wings folded over her head in submission. "Forgive me noble Ophanim, but there are those who . . . . I should never have thought you . . . . ."
Maion held her breath slightly. Now, in the script she and Charmeine had carefully rehearsed, this was the one critical point. "Charmeine, this is the noble Lemuel-lan-Michael who today saved us all from the plotting of those who sought to replace He Who Is Above Us All. I would wish to honor him properly for his valiant service. Surely for one such as he, there should be no charge? And if there is, then I would wish to pay it for him."
"Most Holy Ophanim, I should have known. For your valor today, you are indeed welcome to enjoy all that we have. Maion is yours, by her request, without charge. Honor us by accepting her company."
Maion took Lemuel by her hand and led him to the stairs that went to the rooms above. As soon as they were outside, Perpetiel and Charmeine exchanged high-fives. "Did it!" Perpetiel's voice was almost a shout of triumph.
"Of course." Charmeine sounded conceited. "Angels like that can't resist a bird with broken wings.
DIMO(N) Test Facility, Camp Hendrick, Hell
"Are we all set to go kitten?" Colonel Warhol had the equipment set up and was ready to run. All he needed now was for kitten to get into the portal generator and find the desired contact. She was standing beside her boyfriend, waiting to do so. She glanced quickly at him, he nodded and she started to sit in the padded operator console. "Now, what I want you to do is something different from anything you've done before. I'd like you to start searching for a contact but its not human or nephalim. Look instead for a series of six numbers. 489735. Just think those numbers and wait for a response."
"What are we doing?" kitten's boyfriend Dani was curious. "kitten can't make a contact without a nephelim the other end."
"If this works, she can." Warhol hesitated and then went on. "We've proved that the nephelim at the other end simply echoes the search signal back to its source to make the contact. So, what we have done is set up a series of beacons, in this case a hundred of them. If they pick up the right signal, they'll echo it back and we'll have our contact. So, kitten is looking for three beacons, number 48, number 97 and number 35. We think that thinking the number will key the appropriate beacon to respond. Now, once she has all three, she can more or less drop out and the generator will pump energy into the link and turn it into a proper portal, one whose Earth end is equidistant from all three beacons."
Dani thought for a second. "That'll make it just like a telephone number won’t it? You, we'll be able to contact anywhere." He paused again. "Why not just use cell phone towers as beacons? The infrastructure is already up, you could get the net set up in weeks."
Warhol nodded. It slightly surprised him that somebody who led his girlfriend around on a leash had grasped the idea so quickly. Then, he reprimanded himself for the thought. Dani and kitten might be an unconventional couple but they'd sacrificed far more for the war effort than most and the way that had stood by and supported each other was an example a whole lot of other couples should follow.
"It's no good. I can't detect any of them." kitten's voice was apologetic.
Warhol bit his lip. "We measured your brain signature when you were thinking the numbers. You should be able to get through."
"kitten, try thinking just the number 48." Dani spoke quietly, reassuringly. Then he turned to Warhol, "three at once is probably too many."
A few seconds later, kitten's voice was triumphant. "Got it."
"Right now, can you hold that one and look for 97?"
kitten nodded and closed her eyes. Again it took a few seconds before her "got it" sounded soft and clear. The third beacon was located quickly. "I've got all three Colonel."
Warhol nodded and the portal generator operators started to push power into the circuit. Kitten had been isolated now, with luck the days when opening a portal would be painful were gone. A few seconds later, the telephone built into the system rang. Warhol picked it up and listened carefully. "Dani, kitten, the portal the other end opened exactly where it was supposed to. This is a good day's work people. Any plans for the rest of the day."
Dani thought for a second. "I'm going to sell all our stock in airlines and bus companies."
Nations do not survive by setting examples for others
Nations survive by making examples of others
liked the trope reference, but I don't get why Lemy didn't react more to when Maion dragged him up. I'm also confused about where they got the numbers for the beacon from.
Still, great update. Lemy's a bit gullible though.
Lemy's high as shit, drunk off his gourd, and has spent the last year or so getting his home life gradually wrecked by his job, and he apparently hasn't gotten laid in a while by his wife. Gullibility is kinda justified.
Looks like Mikey needs to learn that you do stoned things when your stoned, like contemplating the nature of existence (like, what if there's a god who made our god dude?) and sober things when you're sober, like pulling off complicated evil schemes. He really shouldn't mix business with pleasure, but I guess he's just arrogant enough to think that he can pull off his plans even when he's drunk and high!
He seems to be getting to the point where he simply doesn't care anymore. Should this be part 46?
Turns out that a five way cross over between It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, the Ali G Show, Fargo, Idiocracy and Veep is a lot less funny when you're actually living in it.
Wow. So Heaven (leastways not Michael) didn't bamboozle the Israelis into nuking themselves, Belial is now the head of a concentration camp (or will be soon enough), some sucker Angels will now be torturing their former bosses to save their own miserable hides, and Lemiel has swallowed the bait hook, line and sinker. Things are really rolling for Michael. And the Scarlet Beast is dying, Dumah most likely following it...
So yeah, a lot to take in.
As for the concentration camp, Michael-Lan will probably announce innocence and lay the blame squarely on "corruptive influences", thus allowing him to come out squeaky-clean once the HEA storms into Heaven. That Magnificent Bastard.
I should have realized that Dumah was not going to walk away from her murder spree back in part 43, when she suddenly suffered a major loss in memory. Ah well, war's a bitch; if you can't stand the heat get out of the firing range. As in WAY out of the firing range.
Peptuck wrote:Lemy's high as shit, drunk off his gourd, and has spent the last year or so getting his home life gradually wrecked by his job, and he apparently hasn't gotten laid in a while by his wife. Gullibility is kinda justified.
Not to mention that those trying to bring him in? As said, they've been practicing the script.
"Yee's proposal is exactly the sort of thing I would expect some Washington legal eagle to do. In fact, it could even be argued it would be unrealistic to not have a scene in the next book of, say, a Congressman Yee submit the Yee Act for consideration. " - bcoogler on this
"My crystal ball is filled with smoke, and my hovercraft is full of eels." - Bayonet
Stark: "You can't even GET to heaven. You don't even know where it is, or even if it still exists." SirNitram: "So storm Hell." - From the legendary thread
Saint_007 wrote:I should have realized that Dumah was not going to walk away from her murder spree back in part 43, when she suddenly suffered a major loss in memory. Ah well, war's a bitch; if you can't stand the heat get out of the firing range. As in WAY out of the firing range.
I just had a strange thought... holy crap, so this is what "TBI" is?? It's a bit disturbing to think that a doctor from 'far enough back' that he would tell Michael-lan to get a newer doctor would recognize what had happened, and yet IRL few outside medical/military circles understand that this can actually exist, much less depict it.
"Yee's proposal is exactly the sort of thing I would expect some Washington legal eagle to do. In fact, it could even be argued it would be unrealistic to not have a scene in the next book of, say, a Congressman Yee submit the Yee Act for consideration. " - bcoogler on this
"My crystal ball is filled with smoke, and my hovercraft is full of eels." - Bayonet
Stark: "You can't even GET to heaven. You don't even know where it is, or even if it still exists." SirNitram: "So storm Hell." - From the legendary thread
Well, I'm guessing it's not something Hollywood likes presenting. As Robert Downey Jr. said in Tropic Thunder "never go the full retard". He's right; it's depressing to see someone turn into a vegetable on-screen unless it's a tragedy movie.
Then there's the fact that things like these don't usually happen in civilian life. Sure, people do die of massive head trauma, but of getting their brains reduced to mush due to extensive battering? Outside some really sick abuse and freak accidents, it doesn't happen as often as bullet wounds, so people don't think of it much. Or if they do, they simply label it "brain damage" so we don't realize how often it does happen.
Also, people in the military who suffer things like that usually die .5 seconds later of massive organ failure caused by the same exact explosions that caused the brain damage. Dumah was just lucky her species is hardy enough to avoid instant organ liquification (though in this case, dying by brain failure is arguably worse)
One more point though. Is it just me, or is the "portal telephone" system going to be instrumental in invading Heaven?
Saint_007 wrote:
One more point though. Is it just me, or is the "portal telephone" system going to be instrumental in invading Heaven?
It probably will be. It'll be interesting to see how fast portal telephones can be done solely by computers, if such a feat is possible.
Turns out that a five way cross over between It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, the Ali G Show, Fargo, Idiocracy and Veep is a lot less funny when you're actually living in it.
Lemme guess, something along the lines of 87-33-23? or 66-66-66?
Though a better way to sneak a beacon in is to track Michael or any other Angel coming out of Heaven. Now that they're using routes to fool the HEA, it might be faster to track him down with the portal network.
Shouldn't have Salaphen have Michael called out on addressing him in full name (Salaphael-Lan-Yahweh), since "Yahweh" is NEVER mentioned as a name? I assumed Salaphael-Lan would be the correct way to address him... I mean, why else does everyone refer to Him in Capital Letters and descriptions? But maybe I'm mistaken and His highest angels are exempt of that rule.
~Buritot
BRAN! The Morning Meal for Dyslexic Zombies!
UnderAGreySky wrote:....that said, the exact method of Edward II's death was something I wouldn't have minded not knowing
AFAIK that version of Eddie 2's death is pretty well known in the UK. Stu is right that some historians think he actually died in exile.
Not as good a story though.
Looks like Michael is pretty much resigned to us humans one day arriving in Heaven. It also looks like portal technology is going to be the next big transport revolution.
'Fire up the Quattro!'
'I'm arresting you for murdering my car, you dyke-digging tosspot! - Gene Hunt.
UnderAGreySky wrote:....that said, the exact method of Edward II's death was something I wouldn't have minded not knowing
AFAIK that version of Eddie 2's death is pretty well known in the UK. Stu is right that some historians think he actually died in exile.
Not as good a story though.
Looks like Michael is pretty much resigned to us humans one day arriving in Heaven. It also looks like portal technology is going to be the next big transport revolution.
And this chapter should lay to rest any lingering feelings that there is anything at all about Michael that does not require, for humanity's sake, Michael's utter destruction. In killing gods we should not forget their wannabe replacements.
BTW Jan the AVRE vehicle in TLW chapter 116 would work just as well IMHO in a thunder run in heaven as in the central front in WW3.
UnderAGreySky wrote:....that said, the exact method of Edward II's death was something I wouldn't have minded not knowing
AFAIK that version of Eddie 2's death is pretty well known in the UK. Stu is right that some historians think he actually died in exile.
Not as good a story though.
Looks like Michael is pretty much resigned to us humans one day arriving in Heaven. It also looks like portal technology is going to be the next big transport revolution.
this chapter should also put to rest that Michael is other than deserving of annihilation.
BTW Jan, the AVRE vehicle in TLW 116 might be a god addition to a thunder run into heaven. Or are you and Stuart setting up contemporaneous thunder runs and comparing ToEs
Darth Yan wrote:does anyone think lemy will help the humans?
He might change his mind if Michael destroys his faith in Yahweh sufficiently but somehow the hedonistic pleasures of the Montmatre Club don't provide a complete substitute for Lemmy's "spiritual void", especially he starts talking to one of the other conspiracies (how many of them are there now? I have trouble keeping track.)
Turns out that a five way cross over between It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, the Ali G Show, Fargo, Idiocracy and Veep is a lot less funny when you're actually living in it.
Stuart wrote:Michael-Lan's Office, Temple of Righteous Ardor, Eternal City
"We call this the Edward The Second treatment. A human king once upset his nobles so they killed him that way. We don't think it will kill an Archangel but we're not quite sure. Nobody has ever tried it up here – at least up there - before."
(Large word ballon, with a very small "eep" inside...)
Did those of us who remember our English history feel a little empathy discomfort "down there"? The captured angel had every reason to vomit, even if he wasn't next in line for the hot iron enema. That's one of the few times I felt any trace of sympathy for the Feather Dusters.
Of course, what I'd really like to see is Yahoo Wahoo not dead, but captured, put on trial for crimes against Humanity (and anything else we can think of), and when found guilty, locked up forever. We'd take him out and pump him for information, ever so often...
As usual, great story Stuart.
"The truth is rarely pure and never simple."Oscar Wilde
Something about the angelic concentration camps bother me. It doesn't feel like it fits, just too modern I suppose, even if it's Michael's idea. I don't want to call it primitive, since it wasn't and peoples in the past had plenty of horrific and sophisticated torture methods, but it seems like something more pre-modern would fit better.
On the conspiracies, though, that I can see and it makes sense to have so many of them. Those angels have had nothing better to do than plot and scheme amongst themselves...and same with their human slaves who've figured out after who knows how many centuries that Heaven ain't all it was cut out to be. And heck, the baldricks were doing it too, but they were more overt and openly fought each other for power instead of being passive-aggressive like the angels were seemingly forced to be.
DPDarkPrimus is my boyfriend!
SDNW4 Nation: The Refuge And, on Nova Terra, Al-Stan the Totally and Completely Honest and Legitimate Weapons Dealer and Used Starship Salesman slept on a bed made of money, with a blaster under his pillow and his sombrero pulled over his face. This is to say, he slept very well indeed.
Both the playing with mortals, and the playing with fire; he's no stranger to doing things that can backfire. On the other hand, he's also very, very good at talking himself out of trouble.
Agreed! I remember the little story with the Dwarves, when he bet his head(!), and only got out of it by some BS rule lawyering. All in all, I think Loki got a raw deal out of Norse mythology. While he may have been a trickster god like Coyote or Hermes, now he's pushed into Satan's role, like Set of the Egyptians.
(Anybody notice that both Loki and Set had red hair? Humm?)
Baughn wrote:Tze'entch, though.. well, I'm definitely hoping he doesn't show up. If a god like that is needed, an out-and-out lovecraftian one would fit better, I think.
(Shudder.) I agree with you, but we're in enough trouble with one god, we don't need any of the Chaos gods from WH40K, or Howard Philip's nameless things from beyond.
"The truth is rarely pure and never simple."Oscar Wilde
Saint_007 wrote:Lemiel has swallowed the bait hook, line and sinker.
I wouldn't be so sure about that. Sure, he's having a nice time right now, but he's also really high. Once he comes down, he might have a considerably different opinion of (what he remembers of) the night's events. Even if he doesn't, there's a way for this plan to blow up in Michael's face: Lemuel returns to the club and someone who isn't fully in on the plan mentions Michael's involvement.
"DO YOU WORSHIP HOMOSEXUALS?" - Curtis Saxton (source)
sometime soon i hope?
