Title: An Incarnation Silly Story.
Posted By: Joram
Posted On: 11/4/99 11:28:00 AM
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 ;)
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.