The Forsaken Awaken
For a moment there was silence.The vast molten lake ceased it's agonised
bubbling, and the insane midnight clouds stopped there boiling. Two worlds
held their breath, then released it in a shattering roar, as a hole was
ripped in the sky, brighter than the sun, becoming darker than the darkest
pit of oblivion. Out of the hole in the sky fell twelve objects, like comets,
trailing obsidian vapour in their wake as they struck the barren rock of
After a long moment, a figure came forward from the shadows. An austere
man wearing a cruel face, whose eyes and mouth seemed to blaze like an
inferno of hell. Ba'alzamon he was named by some, Ishmael to others, and
he walked among the dark, steaming shapes, tapping each with a burnt, gnarled
staff, forged from wood warped and twisted in torment as it had been forced
to grow. As he tapped, the objects took on form, molded like clay by invisible
hands. In minutes, six male and six female shapes lay upon the rocks, breathing
deeply. Ba'alzamon struck his staff upon the rock, and a thunderclap exploded
overhead with shocking power - a signal, a demand, that could not be ignored.
The twelve figures stirred....
"Ishamel?" said a women with long dark hair and angelic features,
a sweet irony considering the far from angelic soul that peered out of
the wide dark eyes. "What time is this?"
"It is just... time.... Lanfear. Time again to show the world the
one word of truth that is our Lord."
"But I asked for a wake up call in time for the Trolloc wars, you
klutz!" screamed the Daughter of the Night.
"Heheheh," cackled an aged man laying nearby. "You certainly
needed your beauty sleep, Lanfear. Mwahahah."
Lanfear fixed the living carcass with a stare. "Oh really Aginor?
And have you looked in a mirror lately?"
"What? What are you.... Rhavin, lend me your mirror!"
"What makes you think I have a mirror?" asked a handsome man
who sat furthest away, yawning.
"Because you ALWAYS have a mirror!" laughed Graendal. "You
are nearly as vain as I! Nearly..."
Rhavin snarled, cursing under his breath, and pulled a small hand mirror
from under his pyjama's, tossing it to Aginor, who caught it.
"Unholy smoke!" screamed Aginor at his reflection. "I don't
believe it! I look like I'm a thousand years old!"
"Well, you are, you crazy fool!" added Sammael with a cruel smile.
"You don't look a day over, say, nine-hundred and fifty though."
he added in a sly voice.
"You shut up, Sammael! Or I'll give you a scar to match the one you
already have!" Aginor blustered. Sammael's face went cold, except
for his eyes, which smouldered dangerously.
"I don't know why you're complaining, Aggy," said Be'lal in a
neutral tone. "Look at poor Balthamel!" He pointed indicating
the animated corpse that sat trying to brush hair that had long ago rotted
away. "Now, that IS old!".
Balthamel opened his mouth to speak - and his tongue fell out. He tried
to stick it back in with numb, shaking, palsied fingers, whilst the others
hooted and hollered and pointed at him. Eventually, he threw his tongue
at Be'lal's head, and stuck his middle finger up at the rest of them. The
finger fell off.
Ba'alzamon struck the rock with his staff again, and the sound, un-naturally
amplified, bought an end to the bickering, and bought all the forsaken
blinking, to their feet. Except one. Asmodean still lay snoring peacefully
on the ground, clutching his favourite teddy bear, Marvin. "Will someone
wake that useless bugger before I kick him into the lake?" asked Ba'alzamon
in a tight voice. Semirhage kicked Asmodean, then kicked him again, then
once more, until Asmodean sat up blinking and scratching his armpit. The
corner's of Semirhage's cruel mouth turned up slightly, and she kicked
him once more. Then she punched him, nipped his arm, tweaked his ear, knee'd
him in the head, and began to stamp on the helpless Asmodean.
Over Asmodean's screams, and the derisive laughter of the others, Ba'alzamon
sighed. "Why me?" he whispered. "Thankyou Semirhage, I think
Stamp, stamp, stamp....
"Thankyou Semi, that'll do I think..."
stamp, stamp, stamp....
"Yes, Semi, thanks I think..."
stamp, stamp, stamp....
"SEMIRHAGE!" His power-boosted voice seemed to reach through
her sadistic frenzy. She stopped stamping on the hapless Asmodean who was
crying loudly, and hugging Marvin tight. She looked down, closed her eyes
slowly, then opened them again, and stepped off him. When Ba'alzamon turned
to the others, she kicked Asmodean one last time, and threw Marvin into
the molten lake.
"Now then, harken unto me, for I bear the words of the Great Lord
of the Dark!" began Ishmael in an oratory tone.
"Maaaaaarviiiiiiinnnnn...." wailed Asmodean. Semirhage giggled.
"Now is the time of awakening, when we shall once more go forth...."
"Urgh!" spat Moghedien.
Ishmael sighed. "What is it, Moggy?" he asked in an 'I'm-afraid-to-ask'
"Balthamel rolled his eyes at me!" she pouted.
"Well, roll them right back, dear. He can't help it, he's decaying."
"Smells damn foul as well..." added Demandred under his breath.
"AS I WAS SAYING..." Ishmael looked around with his flaming eyes.
"Maaaarviiiiiinnnnnn...." sobbed Asmodean. Semirhage cuffed his
ear with a smile of happiness.
"Our enemy, Les Therin, has been reborn and once again he..."
"Lews, Ishy." said Lanfear, in a bored tone. "It's Lews,
"Les, Lews, Schmews, who gives a f.." began Rhavin, before being
cut off by Lanfear's hand clenched tightly around his particulars.
"I care, Rhavin dearest..." she hissed in a quiet voice. "It's
Lews, not Les, right?" She squeezed slightly.
"Yes....yes...Lanfear, I... do believe...you...are.... right..."
managed Rhavin in a high voice. After a long moment, she smiled and released
"I think it shrunk, Rhav," Lanfear said sweetly. Rhavin paled,
and looked down his pyjama bottoms, a worried expression on his face.
"maaarviiiiinnnn...... ~sob~ I want my maaarvvviiinnnn "
"Now, as I was saying," interupted Ishmael quickly, "LEWS
Therin, has been reborn, and once again walks the earth, and he..."
"He's a hiker, is he Ish?" asked Demandred.
"You said 'he walks the earth' - he's a hiker is he?"
With a long sigh, Ishmael looked at the floor in defeat. "Not literally,
Dem. Hell, what did I do to deserve you lot? I meant it in a general sort
of way, as in 'he is alive once more' you bloody stupid tit. Now shut up!"
Eye's flamed in anger, and thunder rolled in the sky, as he looked up again.
"Oh... right you are then. Sorry boss. Carry on." Demandred nodded,
and stuck a thumb up, approvingly.
"right.... He... 'is alive' once more, and it is our job to go and
stop him from...."
"You could have said 'abroad' too." added Demandred thoughtfully.
"I heard that term used. He is 'abroad' in the world. That's what
I would have said."
"Right, that just about DOES IT!" snapped Ishmael. "You
want 'abroad', Demandred? I'll show you 'abroad' you little - Seanchan
duty for you! Go on, bugger off over there! I don't want you on my continent!"
Demandred's eyes widened. "No, not Seanchan boss, please! I wanted
to pretend to be Mazrim Taim!"
"Tough! Should have kept your damn mouth shut then! Now you got the
land of silly haircuts! Let that be a lesson!"
Messanna looked up. "Can I go to the tower?"
Lanfear tutted. "Oh yeah, just because there's all those 'lessons'
and 'classes' and 'libraries' and stuff."
"You can't leave it alone can you? You have to play school teacher!"
"That's not it! Not at all! Why you little bitch.... I'll teach them,
you'll see. And you! I'll teach you ALL!"
"~sob~ maaaaarrrrvvvviiiiinnnnnnn ~sob~"
None of the chosen saw Ishmael turn and leave in defeat as they were
all busy bickering with each other. Going back to his room, that existed
strangely close to the pit of doom itself, Ishmael fetched a cool bottle
of beer from his fridge, and sat down at a table with a grunt of despair.
His eyes didn't flame any more. Instead, a black dot whizzed from one side
to the other through his eyes. Ishmael angled his head, and thumped it
several times on the side with the heel of his hand, until the black dot
fell out of his ear. He flicked it off the table.
"Damn flies," he cursed.
After a long swig, he reached into his cloak, and bought out several
fragments of a cuendillar disk, formed in the ancient symbol of the Aes
Sedai. The first seal. When it had broken, the other chosen had been released.
He looked at it a long moment, then fished deep in another pocket, and
bought out some glue.
"I knew I shouldn't have broken it..." he berated himself, squeezing
the glue onto one small, sharp piece. "Maybe I can put it back together
and keep the buggers asleep..."
Raina's Hold / Raina's
Library / Raina's Library - Other People's Humour