Title: An Incarnation Silly Story.
Posted By: Joram
Posted On: 11/4/99 11:28:00 AM
hello...
no.. i am NOT an incarn, i am too busy to deal with that stuff, i
DO talk to several of them quite a bit, and from those
conversations i wrote this story, the Hero is Shai'tan, one of
the newer incarns, the Villians are all of you.
heh heh heh....
If you would like to read more, about the further adventures of
Shai'tan, the evil-good-guy, please post some sort of response to
this, asking me to write more ;)
-Joram
br>
Shai'tain's Story
Shai'tan sat at his nice new desk and smiled happily. Today was
going to be a good day, he just knew it.
At first when they'd offered him the job, he couldn't believe his
good fortune, and now, well, he was still very optimistic about
the future. He could change things, he could change the RP for
the better, now, and fix everything that was wrong with it. Today
was his first day on the job, and it was going to be great!
Of course, the first thing to do would be to get a feel for how
the job worked, so Shai'tan stood up, admiring his nifty black
décor. Naturally the room would be black. He was part of the
Dark One Incarnation, after all! Near the door he examined the
black carpet carefully. Was that a snag?
He knelt down to get a closer look, and was almost pushed over by
someone in an awful hurry to get through the door.
"Sorry," the person said, and carried the huge pile of
papers in his arms over to the obsidian desk. "Hi, I'm the
Dark One, your fellow Incarnation. This paperwork needs to be
done, and don't complain, because I gave you a little less than I
gave myself. Have a nice day." He set the stack of papers
down, and was halfway out the door before Shai'tan called out to
him.
"Wait!" he shouted desperately. "I need your help.
HOW'S MY VOICE SOUND TO YOU? IS IT TOO HIGH, OR IS THIS ALL
RIGHT?"
The Dark One stopped in his tracks. "It's a little high, but
it'll do. See you later, I have work to do." With that, he
was gone, leaving Shai'tan sitting on the carpet, confused.
After a few seconds of confusion he stood up, and began to look
through the stack of papers on the desk. He started reading them
aloud, getting out his special DarkOne ™ pen to write the
replies.
"'Dear Dark One Incarnations,
Can I be someone from the Age of Legends?'" he said, and
continued, to himself, "Well that's easy. The answer is
"NO." Very carefully Shai'tan wrote the single word on
the piece of paper, and put it in the Outbox.
Then he picked up the second piece of paper.
"Dear Dark One Incarnations,
Can I be a wolfbrother and a channeler?" Shai'tan shook his
head, and wished that new people would read the guidelines all
the incarnations had posted together at Dragonmount. Nevertheless
he dipped his pen in ink and wrote "NO," in big bold
letters on the page. The ink dried magically fast, so he set that
one too in the box labelled in neat red letters, "Out."
He picked up the next letter, which turned out to be a request to
be Nae'blis. With some trepidation Shai'tan put down that note,
quickly shuffling through the rest of the stack of papers.
His heart sank. They were all like that. Every single one of
them.
The newly-hired Incarnation moaned and laid his head down on the
desk.
*****
Some hours later, looking somewhat dishevelled, he emerged from
his study, feeling somewhat less optimistic than he had
previously.
Both his feet had fallen asleep, so his gait was uneven and
foolish-looking. The first time he'd stood up he'd slipped and
fallen onto his butt into an undignified heap. Now he was just
staggering through the halls like a drunken camel, which was in
his eyes a tremendous improvement.
He found another of his fellow incarnations's office, and knocked
on the door. A beautiful female voice told him to come in.
Closing the door behind him, he noticed that the entire office
was a really dreadful shade of pink, and shuddered in disgust.
The woman at the desk saw, and nodded in disgust. "It's
terrible, isn't it? But the stereotype is that girls are pink and
boys are blue. Somehow my counterpart Saidin managed to get a
navy blue, but do you think that moron designer could find it in
his heart not to give me pink?" Her beautiful face tightened
in revulsion. "No, of course not. That would be too
easy." Saidar scowled, and banged a piece of paper into her
Outbox. She then turned her irritated gaze on Shai'tan.
"What do you want?" she demanded rudely.
"Oh, I'm just trying to figure out exactly what my job
is," he said, and smiled affably, trying the
"charm" approach.
It didn't work.
Saidar frowned. "Look, I'm sorry, but I don't have time for
this right now. I still have this entire stack of papers, and
then we all have a meeting together about the future of the RP.
Could you come back later?" Briefly she turned her gaze on
the next paper on the stack in front of her.
Suddenly her gorgeous face took on a frightening Aspect, and she
snarled, the paper twisting in her milk-white hands. "If
I've told them once, I've told them a thousand times,"
Saidar grated, as steam began to come out of her ears, "NO
MORE DREAMWALKERS!!!!" She screamed the last phrase in a
dulcet contralto that rose swiftly to a shrill soprano.
Shai'tan fell to the ground, trembling. He'd never heard of
anyone other than the Dark Ones using a Voice like that, but now
he knew better. Saidar did have power.
After a few moments he dared to peek, and found her ignoring him
once more, concentrating on the papers, a white halo of rage
still encompassing her perfect form. As moved his arms from their
position on his head, and stood up, she noticed him again, and he
flinched reflexively. "You again," Saidar said,
sounding annoyed. "Didn't I tell you to go away?"
"Yes, yes ma'am, you did, I'm really sorry, it'll never
happen again…" he found himself babbling, and backed
out of the door, which slammed behind him with a thread of the
Power.
Shai'tan leaned up against the wall, breathing hard, wishing that
his hands would stop shaking. What a terrifying person! Hopefully
he wouldn't have to work with her again!
He began to walk slowly back to his office, still shaking like a
leaf. Every few moments he had to stop and take a breather.
Somehow he made it back, and got to the desk, where he sat down.
Somehow the Inbox was full again.
Shai'tan groaned, and picked up the paper on the top.
-----
ater that day, just as he was getting to the last paper in the
pile, Shai'tan heard a knock on the door. "Come in!" he
said happily, glad of a distraction. The heavy black door swung
open, and a young man entered the room, carrying a few sheets of
paper in his hand. Shai'tan tried to keep from gawking at him,
but it was difficult, because the fellow was the handsomest male
person he'd ever seen. Just like that knockout Saidar, he was
perfectly formed. Shai'tan felt a flash of envy burn through his
blood, and squashed it down. I bet he gets all the chicks.
"What is it?" he asked politely, and the man grinned
affably.
"Not much, really. I'm Saidin, and I heard you were new on
the job. These are the rules we have here. There aren't many, but
you should read them to avoid stepping on anybody's toes. Some of
us can be a bit touchy." First the two men shook hands. Then
Saidin handed Shai'tan the papers. "If you need any help,
I'm down the hall. By the way, our relationship with the Org
Heads has been a little strained lately. Be nice to them. I have
to go and get some work done. See you later."
The new Incarnation nodded, and watched Saidin go. A slight
feeling of lingering envy trailed along behind him.
He examined the rules.
1. There are no perks to this job.
He understood that, of course, and nodded. If there were perks he
certainly wouldn't have objected, but the fact that there weren't
any didn't shock him in the least.
2. Answer stupid questions kindly.
He'd done that already, many times.
Shai'tan suppressed a groan, thinking of all the papers he'd
signed and sent off, and hoped there weren't more of them.
Just then he looked down and saw that the Inbox was again,
somehow full.
The scream echoed through the corridors, but no one noticed.
The Incarnations knew what it was like.
-----
fter an hour, the last reply was written, and he stood up, and
went to the bathroom, to splash some water on his face. The
mirror reflected a gaunt, haggard face, that seemed as if he'd
been a prisoner of war in some camp for thirty years. Shai'tan
frowned, and tried to firm up the way he looked- he'd been told
that Incarnations could change their appearance if they so
desired- but all he managed to do was make a goatee appear on his
face, giving a fairly diabolical impression.
He still looked as if he'd been run over by a train.
He felt marginally worse.
-----
hai'tan walked back to his office as slowly as he possibly
could. Upon seeing someone ahead, he took a deep breath, trying
to regain his former positivity, or at least an appearance of
positivity.
The man in the corridor looked handsome, but perfectly ordinary,
with glasses and a goatee, rather similar to Shai'tan's own.
Ordinary, human brown hair framed a face with ordinary, brown
eyes. Surely this person couldn't be another Incarnation? He was
too… normal. He held a small suitcase in one hand, and some
sort of electronic device in the other. He smiled a perfectly
ordinary smile (so different than the perfectly perfect
perfection of the Incarnations!) and extended a hand.
"Hi," the fellow said. "I'm Samwise. They call me
Joram, sometimes, but I'm Samwise. I'm the OOC administrator.
Have you met your IC administrator yet?"
"We have an administrator?" Shai'tan asked, somewhat
bewildered. He'd never heard that when he was signing on.
Samwise nodded. "Yes, you do. But I'm sure you'll find that
out later. I'm just here to tell you not to do anything that
affects people out of character. That's my job, and that of the
Org Leaders, okay?"
"Oh no!" Shai'tan said, chagrined. "I already
mailed something to Demandred that-"
The Administrator interrupted, "Yes, we know. It's taken
care of. Don't worry about it, just don't do it again."
The Incarnation let out a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry,"
he said, "I didn't know."
"I figured. Just don't do it again. I'm sure your
administrator will talk to you about it later. I'm sorry, but I
have to go talk to an Org Leader who's misbehaving now."
Samwise frowned. "For some reason, people aren't liking the
new rules, and I'm trying to convince them they're wrong.
Goodbye, and good luck."
Samwise swung the briefcase lightly back and forth as he walked
down the hall, leaving Shai'tan somewhat confused behind him.
Halfway down the hall, the Administrator stopped and turned
around, waving at the sky. "I like this. I've never been in
a silly story before." Then he continued on his way back
down the hall, whistling.
Shai'tan had no idea what he meant by that, and decided to ignore
it, opening the door to his office.
The stack of papers in the Inbox was a foot high, and someone was
sitting in his chair.
"What's going on?" Shai'tan asked the ordinary-looking
woman at his desk.
"Hello," she said, with a slight drawl. "I'm your
administrator. I'm just here to say hi, really. I'll be back
later to tell you exactly what your job is, but right now I have
to make sure the RP boards are working right." She stood up
and was out the door so fast that Shai'tan couldn't stop her to
ask her what she meant.
When he looked down, he noticed that the pile on the desk was
twice as large as it had been just a moment ago. Resolutely the
new Incarnation sat down at his desk, ignoring the pile, and
began to write. He wrote to the Org leaders, mostly, asking what
they thought about the RP at DM, and then wrote to some others,
prominent people at DM, and a few less important folks as well,
asking them what they thought he should try to change.
Methodically Shai'tan finished those letters, and proceeded to go
through the requests in the Inbox.
Naturally they were still all the same, but by now he was
resigned to it.
Right then the door burst in, and a wild-eyed young computer geek
sprinted in, waving his arms excitedly. "I'm God! I'm
God!" he yelped, in a squeaky voice reminiscent of a blender
on "frappe." Shai'tan watched, fascinated. "I'm
the Dragon! I'm the long-lost twin brother of Rand al'Thor, I'm
Nae'blis, not Demandred, and I have a ter'angreal that can
destroy whole nations!!"
A beautiful woman walked into the room. To Shai'tan she looked a
little like Saidar, having that same absolutely gorgeous halo of
perfection about her, but she clearly wasn't the same woman,
being dark-haired instead of golden-haired. After a few seconds
of speechless, wholehearted admiration, Shai'tan wiped the drool
from the corner of his lip and observed her taking the young man
by the ear.
"OWWWW!!!!" he screamed hysterically, and yelled,
"You can't do this! I'm the DRAGON!!!!" Firmly the
strange woman began to tug him toward the door.
"Hello," she greeted Shai'tan in a warm tone. "I'm
Open Rose, but you can call me Rose. Sorry about this," she
added apologetically, ignoring the whines and please of the
computer geek she held tightly by the ear.
"What- what's going on?" the newest Incarnation of Evil
stuttered, nervous about the apparently insane man writhing in
Rose's grip.
"Newbie," she said simply, and was gone.
The pile in the Inbox was four feet high.
Shai'tan whimpered.
