Dedman's last trip. A short story.

[dedman]

Dedman had traveled for countless millions of miles, across two realities and an unknown number of centuries in service to the god of wealth. He was sick and tired of it. The insanity that held a good portion of his mind was held at bay by Kuberr because it was an “inconvenience,” even if it was the key to dementia space, an insane servant cannot be trusted. In his travels, dedman always searched for his true freedom, he was bound by servitude and the “gifts” of his master were also the cause of his insanity, the deadly touch of rot and the bulk of the spells in his memory.

Memory, something not forgotten, a concept dedman was ill prepared for these days, his mind was past the breaking point and he had lived so long he could barely remember the day he killed his relatives to gain his so called power. In gathering mana he could remember the lands of his travels, but that was more of a requirement then something he wanted to do.

Dedman was sitting somewhere he rarely visited, the Titan tavern. It was far too social and happy, and he always had to wait for repairs from his last visit to be completed before he could go back. His attire was slightly unusual this time, he had found a blacksmith on another world who could make cloth out of steel and promptly purchased a full set of clothing to keep from accidentally killing anyone useful. At the tavern he wore full robes, boots, gloves and a silk cloth underneath so his steel could be removed without causing too much of a disturbance if needed.

As his head rocked back and forth considering his situation, dedman ordered drinks for the house, the strongest stuff available. Watching as the gold coins made their way to a well-worn spot in the bar that was their safe haven, the servant of the god of wealth was many things, but he always paid his debts.

Debts, that thought made something snap inside of dedman’s mind instantly, the insanity burned through his mind and an audible wail of absolute anguish erupted from within his skull, his lips had not moved and no source for the sound could be found. Without saying another word, not even stopping to finish his drink or say goodbye to the few he had become good acquaintances with, dedman vanished into dementia space. It was not his normal quiet disappearance either, the resulting thunderclap left the patrons of the tavern temporarily deaf and every bit of glass shattered, the shards turning into gold coins before they hit the ground.

Dedman had vanished. The reality that he had traveled to was familiar to say the least, the nightmare landscape of dementia space was a home away from home. The sky was permanently gray and shone with an unnatural light that barely illuminated the blackened lands. The creatures here were as inhospitable as the lands, the nightmares and darkest secrets of all beings was made manifest here, they wandered the lands with violence and cruelty, an innate thirst for blood was palpable in all that existed here. Dedman knew this place so well, it felt warm and familiar even as it raked his mind and tried to break the grant of stability placed there by Kuberr.

This forsaken land of the damned was only the first leg of the trip however, though everything moved at the speed of thought here, it would be quite some time until dedman arrived at the next point of transport. He started walking, keeping only his silken robes on and tossing the steel over his shoulder. Even here his touch would kill and rot, and he demonstrated this fact by killing everything in his path, every nightmarish creature, the few toxic plants that grew, everything either ran if it had the brains, or died and rotted away. Dedman did not care what the choice was; he found something in his way and removed it as quickly as possible. Never stopping to rest, he traveled for weeks watching the blood from his own wounds coagulate and turn to goo on his skin and the wound itself close in moments. The “gifts” of Kuberr were many, all considered needed, but anymore, none wanted.

The light emanating from the horizon grew brighter as the days passed, the sight quickened dedman’s pace, the brighter the light, the faster everything around him died. Eventually he broke into a full run, his skin was slowly darkening from its usual wet-ash color to deeper shades of gray. Here there was no hunger, thirst, exhaustion, or happiness, there was only pain and malice. Dedman reached the source of the light in a matter of weeks, it was a tiny pinhole that punctured the fabric of dementia space, an access point to countless realities and realms across all of time and space. The spell to open it often killed the caster and the continent the spell was cast from. Dedman was completely, utterly, unimpressed. He began to chant in several different languages at once, most of the voices having no apparent source. He had to hurry, being at this point, casting this spell, mad him a target to every deity on every plane of existence, and they could all travel faster then he could chant. The chant was accelerating faster and faster until no single sound could be identified, every last syllable had to be spoken precisely and in time, not one voice missed a beat. Suddenly, every last sound stopped flat. A spell of silence provided by a ‘walker of the multiverse, a true immortal with more power then anything short of a god. Turning, dedman saw the form chosen by a being that needed only thought to live, whose form was only material by choice, he also saw an old friend. Speaking with telepathy they greeted one another:

“Release this spell or I shall kill you with my bare hands and continue onward.”

“You really mean to go through with this?”

“I told you, I will kill you without a second thought if you stand in my way.”

“Is that any way to treat someone who saved your ass during the grand invasion.”

“Is that any way to talk to someone who actually fought through the entire invasion instead of when it was convenient?”

“I guess we have an impasse, you have threatened my life in return for me trying to save yours, the others are coming.”

“Let them come, I will be long gone from here by the time they arrive.”

Suddenly a voice rang out over the silence, the sound was almost deafening, sensory deprivation had plenty of time to sink in before the spell was dissipated by another ‘walker:

“What in the nine spheres do you think you are doing here you psychotic son of a bitch!”

Taking advantage of the spell being broken, as soon as he recovered dedman finished the chant before either ‘walker could stop him. Both rushing forward to stop him without thinking, they provided the opportunity dedman wanted, to be able to continue his journey without hindrance. Dedman purposely misspoke the last word of the chant, out of time by an eighth beat. The miscalculation was minor, and performed with intent, but the effect was staggering. The hole did indeed open, dedman passed through without harm. The ‘walker’s attempt to follow without thought caught them in the shock wave that erupted the instant dedman had stepped through, completely obliterating every last molecule of all matter within a 500 mile radius. A ‘walker can move at the speed of thought wherever they go, but the advantage is lost if the reality they exist in moves at the same pace, their thoughts could not save them if they couldn’t think fast enough to get out of the way. Dedman considered it a shame, after all, he wouldn’t have anyone to yell at on the last leg of his journey.

It was the last thought crossing dedman’s mind as all of time, space, and reality itself folded in around him. The light that had illuminated dementia space was less then a candle compared too the light that existed between existence. It was absolutely blinding, to close your eyes and place your hand in front of your face would only show the bones in your hand too you. Dedman was used to the suffering by this point and concentrated on finding his way around realities. He was blind, there was no sound, no point of reference to judge distance, nothing. There was a burning hatred for what he had become, and it existed within his own physical being, that would have to be enough. Here he was hidden from the gods and ‘walkers existing outside of all time and space, and so far, had survived longer then anything else had even existed here. An unknown amount of time had passed as dedman considered his options, his steel clothing had been discarded here to use as a point of reference, but he had no way to be sure if he was moving away from it, or if it was moving from him. His skin continued to darken with insanity and frustration, knowing he was alone with no way of getting anywhere only served to redouble his malice over and over again.

Here there was no sense of time, time had no meaning here to begin with. There was nothing else in existence for what could have been countless millions of miles in any direction, though distance had no meaning either. There was however, a sense of some sort of motion. Dedman couldn’t figure it out, why did he feel all of a sudden that he was in motion? Why could he feel motion at all? What was causing the sensation that gripped all of his senses? The questions just kept coming faster and faster, the answers stubbornly refused to make themselves known to him. He had no way of knowing if he was really moving, or if sensory deprivation had played enough havoc with his physical being to make him feel things that weren’t happening. Then he saw it, his vision completely blurred, a spot of darkness in the direction he felt he was in motion toward. A shadow on a useless and pointless horizon, but something the light couldn’t illuminate.

The darkness drew closer, becoming larger, for all dedman knew, it was right in front of his face and just enlarging within arms reach. There was sound suddenly, absolutely deafening while being no louder than a pin drop. Covering his ears in pain, the realization that the dark spot between worlds was real sank through the insanity quickly, making dedmans skin turn an outright deep, dark gray, ready to fight and kill at a moments notice. The voices emanating from within his skull began clamoring over each other, here was something new in a place where nothing is allowed to exist. All throughout dedman’s twisted physiology, preparations were being made.

The hole in between existence swallowed dedman quietly, and vanished into the light without a trace. Dedman was not so lucky, he lay on cold, hard ground, unable to see, hear, or feel anything but mind wrecking pain. Wherever he was, dedman knew he existed in reality again, and smiled.

In the passing hours, dedman recovered and calmed his mind as best he could, but when his eyes opened, his smile vanished. From one blasted, god forsaken, barren wasteland to another, dedman recognized his surroundings instantly.

The ground was pure black obsidian, and stretched to every horizon and beyond, the sky was perpetually covered in dark clouds that never rained, and the only thing currently audible, was a familiar scratching sound of nails on the ground. This was Kuberr’s private realm, the home of the god of wealth.

Dedman was glad that at least he could hear the scratching, without a point of reference, you could wander the landscape forever and never see anything new. He walked toward the sound, already familiar with the sight: The souls of those killed in the name of Kuberr would arrive here, scrape a tiny fleck of the black obsidian ground, and march foreword to join his wealth. It was a faint memory, seeing this happen, but the bastardized servant of the owner of the realm did remember it. One the horizon was a great banquet table with Kuberr’s throne at the head, along with dedman’s seat to the side.

That damned and demonized throne, the utterly corrupted and desecrated bones of his blood relatives. Vile necromancers and students of the dark arts all. Dedman was still unaffected at the memory of killing every last one with the first of Kuberr’s “gifts”. The memory of returning here after sealing the contract with their blood, sitting at that very seat, brought nothing. Dedman walked on.

At the head of the banquet table sat Kuberr himself, the god of wealth. He was projecting his form over the countless centuries of accumulated wealth, watching the new souls add to his power. The overbearing opulence of his surroundings was blinding, all manner of otherworldly gems and precious metals gleamed in the dimly lit realm, some with a light of it’s own. The banquet table was overflowing with every known delicacy in the multiverse, the rarer or more unheard of, the more of it seemed to be present.

Kuberr was fully aware of dedman’s approach, and of his intent, and waited patiently for his faithful servant to arrive. As he sat on his throne, Kuberr spoke for the first time in over seven hundred years:

“I see that you wish to remove yourself from my employment, and have come prepared to fight to accomplish that goal.”

Dedman was cold and calculating, smart enough to know that one may not access the personal realm of a deity without their knowledge. He was also aware that Kuberr spoke the truth, he was here to fight for his freedom, and he was prepared to fight to a very bloody end to achieve his dreams. The dementia summoner, the demented mage, the cold, cruel, calculating master of the order of cabalists replied with a twisted and grave tone in his voice:

“If you know that, then you know enough to release me. I’ll not be your puppet any longer.”

The god of wealth waived a hand and dispersed the projection spell, and was laughing as he spoke:

“A puppet is it? Do you not have everything that was promised to you? My dear servant, you have yet to realize that I have not controlled a single action you have taken. You have done your job as you wished, and you performed so well that there was no need for guidance on my part.”

Dedman burned with furious rage at the questions, the insanity that ate away at his mind couldn’t come to terms with any of it. He spent so long paying homage to this bastard and this was his reward? He was shining with an absolutely black aura of malice. The demented mage was about to snap, the grant of stability from Kuberr was the first thing that broke. The realization that his mind was freed shocked both god and servant. The power dedman would wield here was his own and no one else’s.

“God of wealth! You have nothing I want! In my perspective you are nothing but a beggar or street urchin!”

Kuberr took his time amassing his own power before standing from his throne and shedding his baubles for battle. The realm shifted and fell away from the two as a grand arena rushed up to take it’s place, both combatants saw the irony in fighting in a representation of the pits, the very fighting arenas that provided the bulk of Kuberr’s wealth and dedman’s power.

Dedman was ready to fight, he spent his time gathering mana while insulting the god of wealth, He never saw the world around him change because visions of the lands of his travels had completely obscured his vision: He saw the swamps of his personal kingdom, the fetid bogs that bred the forces of death and decay. The white sand beaches of islands he had traveled to on “vacation” with their crystal blue and sea green waters. The mountain ranges that were home to various goblins and dwarves. He saw the power in the land and took as much of it as he could into his being. He was ready.

Kuberr placed his forearms straight out, palms down, a traditional signal that a mage was prepared for combat. Obviously his time had been well spent, he was barely able to contain his stored mana for long enough to cast the first spell. The utterance was so low it was almost inaudible. The vampric dragon that appeared took care of that however, the screech it gave off was enough to make both participants wince in pain.

The undead farce of a true dragon charged at full speed, it was pale and moving so fast it was an absolute blur. It was better than 60 feet from wingtip to wingtip and half again as long. The white fangs were fully visible as it screeched and then snapped its jaws in anticipation of its next meal. A split second after the jaws closed to allow visibility of its target; the abomination lost its second life. It began to bleed out through countless wounds over the full length of it’s body, each one no larger then the head of a pin and yet bleeding more then it would seem possible. The undead thing dropped from the sky and ground to a halt directly in front of dedman, who had completed the last gesture responsible for the spell that killed the beast. A simple spell that took very little mana or concentration to maintain, a singularity made manifest as a point in space that could not be moved, and would not share it’s location with any physical matter whatsoever. The effect of a dragon flying through a few dozen of these placed in the proper locations would be enough to kill anything, as the corpse before dedman proved beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Dedman fully intended to fight as intelligently as he could, with as little resources as possible, and still win a decisive victory for himself. Starting the fight on the defensive was not on his agenda no matter how many dirty tricks he had stored away for this exact time in his existence. He tensed the muscles in his legs and crouched slightly, not taking his focus off of Kuberr for even a moment as he rapidly chanted multiple spells at once. The first spell made manifest an irregularity in time, perfectly formed around dedman, the irregularity was the result of a failed experiment in temporal physics. Dedman’s slender form went completely black as the temporal rift absorbed all light completely. Within the rift, time moved at roughly three times faster then normal, to touch the borders would rend limbs and age the physical being beyond all salvation. It was the only way that the dementia summoner had a chance to cast any offense of his own.

The second spell required no chant, no gestures, only mana and thought, the two things dedman hoped to remove from Kuberr with it. Dedman’s mouth opened wide and he began to scream, louder then any human could stand to hear, and longer then any lungs could hold out. Kuberr had almost finished a defensive spell when the unholy shriek hit him; he was in the final gestures when the shock wave connected. Kuberr reeled back as the wail began to break his concentration, the mana stored for the spell had nothing to channel into and began to eat away at his very being, when Kuberr screamed, it was in agony, it was absolute music to dedman’s ears when the demonic wail ceased.

A war between god and man is only close in man’s mind, a war between master and servant is only an inconvenience to the master. Kuberr rose from the ground with fury and speed that no mortal could ever hope to match, rapidly casting spells as he charged the rift, recklessly burning away mana with his rage. A psychic lash was all it took to dissipate the rift around dedman, and the spells that followed burned into the twisted mage’s mind to strip away spells that were considered an annoyance to the god of wealth.

In his rage, Kuberr never noticed that dedman was still chanting as he watched the god of wealth charge like a demon of the nine spheres. The posture dedman still held was the only way to maintain stability when casting some of the more complex self enhancement spells known to the battle mages in the lands of dedman’s last campaign.

The blinding speed that the two fought at was beyond all comprehension, the spells used as weapons or distractions as needed against a single opponent would route entire kingdoms with no additional effort. A return to the pits indeed, if anyone was watching, there was no way they could follow, only ‘walkers and other deities would be able to watch without feeling they were watching an empty arena.

The energy that radiated from the two as they fought was immense, Kuberr had centuries of souls as his wealth and power, and dedman was stripping entire planets of their mana to fight with. Any mage who could sense a drop of mana in a powerstone the size of a small moon knew something horrible was taking place. Every ‘walker who wasn’t involved in their own life or death struggle flooded in to see the show. The arena filled with the second most powerful beings in existence in all their various forms, friend and foe to one another, they all stopped to watch some bastardized mortal man, fight toe to toe with a god.

The two combatants paid no heed to the sudden influx of spectators, they had entirely focused on obliterating one another and scattering the defeated to the ether between worlds. They simply smashed, or in dedman’s case rotted, the corpses of fallen summoned out of the way to get to one another. Dedman was wielding a spell that made mana manifest as a corruption arc between his hands, the vile energy sending out pitch black bolts of energy at the god of wealth, who was using a similar spell in the elemental realm of lightning, with enough energy to send the fulgurite glass shards from the lightning strikes at dedman directly.

Then for a brief moment, over the screams of the ‘walkers, a single command was uttered loud enough to silence the entire arena. One of the voices in the dementia mages mind had been chanting separate to the rest of his consciousness, it had been preparing separate resources to be used in battle and selecting it’s own moment to interfere with the duel. The last command it uttered was in reference to the power both beings wielded at this moment, it did not stop any one spell, or attack either combatants directly. The spell was designed to annihilate the resources of every spellcaster currently using any mana. Dedman and Kuberr both were stunned to the point of inactivity, dedman’s wounds began to heal thanks to the brief pause as both fighters scrambled to recover. This was it, the end of the all out war waged by two individuals who suddenly found themselves on equal footing, almost. Kuberr had never been in a fight that put him on even ground with anyone, and suddenly found himself having difficulty believing he was now matched with his former servant. Dedman had been fighting for centuries against exactly these types of odds and recovered with enough speed to impress the walkers in attendance.

As the walkers cheered on the one psychotic enough to openly challenge a god. As the forsaken mage began to reconstruct his power, a very confused Kuberr was putting up very meager resistance and watching in awe as the bones from the fallen summoned began to form around dedman. An ivory pillar with a hollow center formed around dedman and began to pulse with the mana dedman was gathering. A ‘walker from dedman’s home realm recognized the spell and called out to the others, the entire audience ‘walked almost simultaneously back to their own realms, leaving a coin on their seat to pay homage to the fight with a small cantrip effect to let them watch the fight from the relative safety of another realm. They understood that this was no fight for wealth or power, but hoped the gesture wouldn’t make them a target for the victor.

Kuberr had begun to recover and focused on eradicating the tower of bones before him. The first attempt was a spell to absorb any spell currently being cast, aimed directly at the tower, with all the irony intended, the tower absorbed the spell. The second attempt was summoning a titanic bull to charge and smash the tower, the bull impaled itself on the protruding bone with a sickly thud and decayed instantly, it’s skeleton adding to the mass of the tower quietly. The last attempt was a massive ball of fire, designed to convert anything it burned into resources of the type the mage desired. The tower erupted in brilliant flames in all the colors known in all the realms, but was not consumed when the fire died. Kuberr had recovered a great deal and searched his thoughts, he was sure he had never seen this spell before, the tower stood and pulsed with energy and yet was unaffected by any spell sent to interfere with it.

The tower had finally begun to crack, Kuberr thought for a moment that it had just taken a few moments for his spells to take effect. The god of wealth paled when he realized the tower was being pushed outward by some force known only to dedman.

This is what dedman saw.

The walkers were all fools, no better then the commoners at his own arenas across various realms. The voice in his mind was screaming as loud as it could trying to make the dementia mage realize the connection to mana was still there, merely hidden from him. The first place dedman saw was an island covered in lush green forest, split down the center by some great force centuries ago. A mage gripped with burning fury and insanity still has his inspiration, and this was his. As the visions of the land returned to him, he paused in a putrid swamp that was absolutely bleeding the mana of corruption and death. This was his source, the single element that called to the bones around him to form the tower. The smell of salt water ran through his nostrils and dedman suddenly saw the island school where he had learned a great deal of temporal manipulation. The mana pouring from here made the perfect source to create an enchantment to absorb spells, he mouthed the words and felt the mana trace the ivory tower. Suddenly a cold breeze washed over the mage as he saw the mountain ranges that were home to dwarves that could turn their bodies into stone at will, the mana that held those massive ranges up permeated the tower and made it stronger then the mightiest creatures in the multiverse. Everything went white as more and more landscapes poured through his mind, every one held power beyond all imagination and dedman took every last mote before the image passed from his thoughts. Dedman was in no way prepared for the spell he was mouthing, but thought a draw would be an acceptable end to the duel if it killed both of the fighters.

This is what Kuberr saw.

The tower was impassive, and the walkers screaming at the fight was no help at all. The sandy ground of the arena didn’t even shift from any of the spells he used to attempt to destroy the tower. Kuberr silently cursed himself for not killing dedman when it was a matter of snapping his fingers and going back to counting souls. It didn’t matter now, the tower was starting to crack, so maybe the spells just took a moment to do anything. But why were the walkers gone suddenly? And it looks like the tower is being pushed out from inside. If I can’t budge that tower then how-

The last syllable spoken in the arena was cut off, the tower of bones exploded, shards skewering everything in their path as a blinding light erupted from the spot where the bones once gathered. The ivory shards ripped into Kuberr and continued on their path of destruction behind him, he never had time to feel any of it. The spell itself was known on many worlds, numbering in the thousands to be sure, but the mages who had cast it were in the single digits.

Obliteration, the blaze of destruction, the wrath of an over eight century old demented mage who had enough of being a “servant” to a god he loathed. The spell was so taboo that even the name was banned from all spell books of old when they were transcribed and the poor souls who had the “honor” of copying those books were summarily killed upon completion of the first quality copy they produced. There was no finesse here, it was brute force with mana channeled for absolute destruction. This is the wrath that even a god must yield too, but Kuberr had nowhere to go. Kuberr, the god of wealth of all the realms of the multiverse, was struck down in the type of blinding blaze of glory fit for a god. There was not one speck of him left.

The blast that erupted was sphere shaped and pure white with blinding rage. The arena completely disintegrated and exposed the true location of the fight had been the ether between worlds, dedman was alone in the void with no power left in him. His skin slowly lost it’s darkened color, returning briefly to it’s usual wet ash color before turning the normal skin tone of the human race, the psudo-pink that had not been seen anywhere near dedman in centuries. The “gifts” of Kuberr were many, but they were all failing now. Here was a place that made the insanity subside, there was utter chaos between worlds, but dedman’s mind calmed as the ether swirled around him.

One of the ‘walkers appeared in the ether next to dedman, then another, and another. Every last one knew what had happened to Kuberr, and put aside their hatred of his servant to thank him. The first one to arrive spoke evenly as if speaking to a dear friend who held a full and honorable position:

“You killed Kuberr. You may have served under him, but you ended his reign by your own strength. For that, we the assembled would like to thank you. Dedman, where may we grant you passage to?”

The reply that escaped dedman’s lips was a hoarse rasp, a hollow representation of the commanding tone that formerly boomed from the mages mouth, he coughed in pain as he spoke:

“I would like, a hot, spiced rum, from this little tavern where a few people will still tolerate me.”

Three weeks after the dementia mage left the Titan tavern in disarray, the doors swung open and a familiar, battered form stepped in and limped painfully to the bar, his silken robes in utter rags, and the familiar clank of steel conspicuously absent. He ordered a hot spiced rum, paying with a few copper pieces as the hot iron plunged into the mug. As the figure turned and saw the patrons of the tavern, the realization that he was free dawned in his mind. He lost every last bit of so-called power he had worked centuries for, but didn’t consider it a loss at all. It was overwhelming. The stress on his body was too much, before he could take a sip of the rum, dedman fell face first on the floor.

Dedman is dead.

[dedman]

Well folks, as the story says, thats it for dedman. This was posted as a short story to give him the ending he needed. I hope you enjoyed reading the death of the dementia mage, thank you for your time.

Feel free to comment or RP reactions as you feel may be appropriate, feedback will always be welcome.

[Agustus]

Three weeks after seeing dedman disappear from the tavern in the blink of an eye, a form that looked familiar walked into the tavern and ordered a hot spice rum. as that man fell many of the patrons looked in shock. Gus ran to the side of this man and turned him over only to find it was his Demented mage friend Dedman, who was the servant of the god of wealth.... to pay homage to his departed friend, Gus took the hot rum and toasted it in the air and put it to the lip of his friend so that he may take his drink.....
He called the undertaker who prepared a casket for the cadaver as another tribute two gold pieces were placed on his eyes as Dedman was buried, so that he may pay the ferryman of the river Styx.