News Archives - September 2013

Twas a night to remember

by | 9/22/2013 6:21 AM

Twas a night to remember. The Seraphs had returned from afar, where they had been journeying by horseless carriage throughout the olden lands (except for one- he journeyed by longship and was out aviking). The harvest was in- both grain and gold- and both beer and ale was stored in vast quantities. Too vast, thought the Viking, and thus a feast was arranged to reduce the supplies down to a manageable level.

The angels gathered. The cherubim as well. An autumn festival was always worth attending, especially a Viking autumn festival. Slaves and golden trinkets would be available for sale or use, food of all sorts would be served by scantily-clad mortals, and the ale and beer would flow without end. There was even wine of various colors for those that swing that way. And for the Viking.. well, he was enamored of a new beverage he had found on his journey- Tennessee Honey Liqueor, or as he named it, Honinglikker.

It was a grand fest- several mortals of the class "DJ" provided raucous music to drink by, though some of the attendees were stricken with St Vitus, while others gathered at the foot of the guest bard Aftermath to hear tell of his newest masterpiece. Others gathered around the newest cherub DominicusUltimus, to hear his latest tale, and to congratulate him on his new wings, or simply to admire those shiny new wings and notice the attachment of them to his body seems to be healing nicely.

Then it started to go poorly. A shout was heard, and the people gathered in one spot. Pitt was the quickest to respond, and new shouts went up for supplies. This brought the Viking Seraph and Scipii to the scene to join EoJay who was already onsite.

BastWorshiper was on the floor beside his seat, twitching violently and rapidly in tune to the heavy bass guitar booming forth from a black cube.

"Tis nothing," scoffed Terikel. "He is just doing that 'dancing' thing, only horizontally."

Scipii shook his head. "Horizontal dancing requires a partner of the opposite gender, and the explicit removal of clothing. He quakes alone, and clothed."

"Oh," replied the Viking. He really did not like anybody falling down and quivering at a festival- it was both rude and made the other guests edgy. Luckily he was a high up angel and knew how to fix hangovers. He raised his hands to shoulder height, made claws of his fingers, and poured a healthy blast of angel magic into the quaking form below.

"That ought to fix him," he said proudly with a grin.

Bast now howled, bringing a bolt of sheer joy to the Viking.

"See? He is getting better already," the Viking nodded, and smiled even more broadly and blissfully.

"His temperature just spiked up ten degrees," EoJ noted, "and the quivering got worse. Whatever you did, Terikel, it made him worse, not better."

The Viking frowned, crestfallen. Never before had his magic failed. Now he was as perplexed as all the others as to the malady affecting the cherub before them.

"He was so brave," Terikel eulogized. "I remember he once dared get into a horseless carriage, with me behind the wheel. We toured together the lands of ghosts and raindrops- and never once did he show fear or concern for safety." He paused. "Though he once did ask about Germanic farmers and what sorts of laws there were concerning the use of arms."

"He is not dead yet." EoJ reminded his colleague.

"He might as well be," Terikel replied. "If angel magic- MY magic, can not fix him, than nothing can. He is a dead man." Then the Viking brightened up. "Which means he will die, and being a good lad, will come back to the heavens where he is now. See? Problem solved."

Scipii held forth a plate of half-eaten food. "He will not be coming back. See this? From your own hand, Viking. You poisoned him with this tripe."

The Viking scowled. "That is good Roman food- as authentic as Gaius Colinius could make it." He sampled some of the sweet-and-sour chicken bits. "This stuff might kill Afty, but did not harm our cherub here."

"Then what did?" asked DominicusUltimus and Awesome Eagle in tandem. If something was killing a cherub- and that something had something to do with a certain Viking with whom they both had contact- then they wanted to know of it and pronto.

Pitt rose from where he was examining the victim. "I think I know what plagues him. It is a disease that strikes without warning, and may one day claim us all, one by one. EoJ, put your wand down- it has nothing to do with the Viking."

EoJ put away the Wand of Mythic Commodore and smiled sheepishly.

"Bastworshiper here is suffering from a severe dose of RealLifeitis."

"Ah! A disease! I can fix that!" cried the Viking jubilantly. He raised his hands again and blue fire erupted from them.

Pitt threw himself before the stricken cherub, shouting "No!!!" He managed to deflect the blast of angelfire into the ceiling, where it renewed the torches in the chandeliers and cured the cracks in the ceiling made back in the day when Punic Hebil and Edorix were swinging from those self-same chandeliers.

"Angelfire is lethal when used to cure RealLifeitis," he croaked. "Do you want him dead, or cured?"

"Cured, of course," replied all three Seraphs in chorus.

"There is but one cure for RealLifeitis. And that is the way Edorix took."

"That cannot be," said Terikel defiantly. "There must be another way."

Pitt shook his head. He was a lawyer, not a doctor, but the solution to this particular malady fell in the realm of physics, which followed laws. BastWorshiper was being torn apart from the inside due to RealLifeitis, and the only known successful cure was to eject him from the heavens back into mortal realms. That relieved the internal tensions that caused the quakes and quivers, and killed the pain of being torn by conscience and duty.

"It is the only way," EoJ said, laying a compassionate hand on the shoulder of the teary-eyed Viking.

"Tis true," said Scipii, placing a second compassionate hand on the other shoulder. "But look on the bright side, Terikel. At least it was not your cooking that did this."

Terikel brightened. "Thanks."

"Do you want us to do the deed?" EoJ asked solemnly. He knew it was never fun to strip angelic trappings from a comrade.

"No," said the Viking. He drew his sword and tested the edge. It would do. "I gave him those wings that now kill him. It is my task to remove them to give him back his freedom and life."

In his other hand he held up a small box. "I will need more of these though," he said, pointing to the Band-Aids. "Otherwise he might bleed to death before he heals."

Scipii shook his head. "When you remove the wings, he becomes mortal. RealLifeitis will no longer affect him, which means you can then use your angel magic to heal him. You need no bandages at all."

"Oh yeah. Right." He lifted BastWorshiper from the ground and tossed him over his shoulder. "I’ll take him to his home first, then clip his wings. We owe him that much."

And so it was that BastWorshiper went to a festival in Heaven and awoke wingless in Alabama, wondering if it was all but a dream or did he really serve in the heavens for all that time…


Comments and salutations may be placed upon this scroll.

Edorix and the Arverni

by | 9/14/2013 0:14 AM

Edorix is at his best and has written an excellent article outlining the history of one of the most important tribes in pre-Roman Gaul. The excellent article can be found here and comments made here.

Rome 2: Total War Heaven Opens its Portals

by | 9/3/2013 7:29 AM

Creative Assembly and SEGA have today released the much-anticipated Rome 2: Total War, the much-desired sequel to the awesome Rome: Total War with enhanced graphics, a better AI, and a whole slew of other improvements.

In celebration of this release, HeavenGames announces the opening of its newest heaven: Rome 2 Total War Heaven.

Feel free to pop by an gawk in awe. You are even invited to post in the sparkling new forums.

Sepia Joust VII Opens

by | 9/2/2013 4:02 AM

The lyrists and cornicens let the last notes of their instruments fade into the growing darkness as the crowds pushed forward toward where the great bonfires were being lit. A rasp of steel upon flint, then a spark, some gentle wind, then the crackle of flame erupted in the tinder.

The crowd eased back away from the flames growing brighter as the sky grew darker. Night was coming, and with it the time for the bards to step forward to regale those gathered with talented tales of historical fiction.

All knew the Old One had a tale ready. Last year he did as well, and listened to the voices of others who claimed to have done the same. Yet when it came time to place quill into sepia and then onto vellum, only he dared. Will this year be a repeat of last? There were many who spoke boldly before the summer heat.

The current Champion strides forward to stand between flame and readers. He holds up a closed scroll, which all knew would be posted in seven days, and announces to those reading, "The Seventh Sepia Joust is hereby open! This scroll will close in a fortnight or so, unless time is begged and granted. Thereafter the Voting Scroll shall open, where we may let our voices be heard concerning who shall don the title Champion of the Joust."

The JOust is now open, and shall remain so for at least a fortnight, possibly longer.

Please respect the reservation of the Submissions Scroll for entrants only. All chats, praise, blabber, babble, and other words may freely be placed upon the Discussion Scroll.

Thanks for your cooperation.

The Joust is now open!
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