Post by Loki on Oct 20, 2020 22:58:50 GMT -5
The angry cries of the mob faded, lost between the crashes of thunder and staccato of hoof beats. Fat stinging bolts of rain pelted against the skin of his face as the Stormm threatened to overwhelm him, to sweep him into the chasm below. For months it had howled, drowning any that would stand against it. It had been one of the few constants since heâd begun this experiment some months ago. At times it seemed almost to be a living being, capable of rational thought and possessing great fury. It had been nearly ten years since the last time a Stormm of this calibre had darkened the land, it didnât seem likely to blow over any time soon.
Lightning struck a nearby tree, causing his steed to rear and whinny in terror. Doctor Lokinstein grasped tight the reins, careful not to drop the precious package he carried with him. The horse came down hard, almost bucking him from the saddle again. He kicked at the beasts flanks, driving it back along the road.
He rounded the crumbling mountain road as Castle Lokinstein grew in the distance, the drawbridge descending as he approached. He rode into the courtyard where he was met by a hunchbacked figure reaching to steady the horse.
âRickgor, is everything ready?â
âYeeeeeesssssss, Maaaaaaaaaster,â the misshapen creature drew out the words.
âExcellent, to the laboratory!â
A shower of sparks heralded his arrival to the lab. One of the tesla coils heâd been planning on using for his experiment had been damaged in an earlier attack against his castle. Two men, the Hunter and the Angel, had talked their way in, posing as mere travelers seeking lodging. Poor, sweet, stupid Rickgor wouldnât be making a mistake like that again.
Dr. Lokinstein strode past the worthless scrap, a large table sat covered in the middle of the room. A vaguely humanoid shape rested underneath a stained, dirty sheet. The edge of which was pulled down at the top, exposing an empty cranial cavity ofâŠ.something.
The Hunter, the Angel at his side, had been after the fruits of his research. In the ensuing clash theyâd damaged several expensive pieces of lab equipment that would not be easily replaced. Theyâd also damaged several prototypes that, while aggravating to lose, had borne unexpected fruit.
The two men, both professionals, had been in much better condition than the scabs Lokinstein was used to working with. Heâd seen to it that their bodies were put to much better use, using bits and pieces from both men in his final creation.
Moving past the curious table, the mad doctor gingerly sat the box heâd been cradling on the table. He pulled the top from it and looked upon the quivering lump inside. A brain, human point of fact, still glistening in ichor and gore rested inside.
âIâve finally found it, Rickgor, the final piece of the puzzle.â
âYou meanâŠâŠâ
âThatâs right, Rickgor. The engine to drive my marvelous creation, the brain of the Major.â
The Major, as he was known in the village, was a wily old veteran. A survivor of several bloody campaigns that had left scores of lesser men dead. He was a pillar of the community, a cornerstone. Or at least he had been. Too much to drink, a dash of arsenic in his evening meal of noodles and red sauce, and the Major had shuffled off his earthly coil, leaving behind that perfect specimen of a brain.
It was a cruel fate that the town constable had stumbled upon him as he completed his gruesome work. Unable to use words or coin to convince the man look the other way, the ruckus heâd raised had drawn an angry mob. It was surely providence that Dr. Lokinstein had been able to flee.
The Doctor took his prize to the main table. Angling the table up, the brain slid into the waiting cavity stem first. Days past as Lokinstein connected each individual nerve ending. Finally, he let out a triumphant roar, startling a sleeping Rickgor out of his stupor.
âRickgnor, it is done! Open the hatch!â
Rickgor scuttled to the other side of the table and began pulling the chain that dangled there. As he pulled and pulled and pulled some more, the hatch in the roof slid open. The Stormm still raged outside, sending rain through the portal. Lokistein threw a lever, causing the great table to raise into the Stormm.
This was it, his moment of triumph! With this, arguably his greatest creation, Lokinstein would do what no man had ever done before. Conquer the Grimm!
The Grimm, half fairytale, half nightmare, half elder thing from outside of reality. All nightmare. It had plagued these lands for as long as Dr. Lokinstein could remember. It had haunted his father and his fatherâs father. Generations of Lokinsteins cowering before the beast. Well no more, the Grimmâs days were finally numbered.
A bolt of lightning hit the table, meat sizzled and arcs of electricity danced down the long metal pole. Lokinstein threw the lever back to its original position and the table descended. Both men watching in hushed fascination as the figure under the table twitched. Finally, it reached up, pulling the shroud from its body.
âITâS ALIVE!â
Rickgore clapped excitedly.
âWelcome, my monster. I am your father. And you, you will help me kill The Grimm!â
Lightning struck a nearby tree, causing his steed to rear and whinny in terror. Doctor Lokinstein grasped tight the reins, careful not to drop the precious package he carried with him. The horse came down hard, almost bucking him from the saddle again. He kicked at the beasts flanks, driving it back along the road.
He rounded the crumbling mountain road as Castle Lokinstein grew in the distance, the drawbridge descending as he approached. He rode into the courtyard where he was met by a hunchbacked figure reaching to steady the horse.
âRickgor, is everything ready?â
âYeeeeeesssssss, Maaaaaaaaaster,â the misshapen creature drew out the words.
âExcellent, to the laboratory!â
A shower of sparks heralded his arrival to the lab. One of the tesla coils heâd been planning on using for his experiment had been damaged in an earlier attack against his castle. Two men, the Hunter and the Angel, had talked their way in, posing as mere travelers seeking lodging. Poor, sweet, stupid Rickgor wouldnât be making a mistake like that again.
Dr. Lokinstein strode past the worthless scrap, a large table sat covered in the middle of the room. A vaguely humanoid shape rested underneath a stained, dirty sheet. The edge of which was pulled down at the top, exposing an empty cranial cavity ofâŠ.something.
The Hunter, the Angel at his side, had been after the fruits of his research. In the ensuing clash theyâd damaged several expensive pieces of lab equipment that would not be easily replaced. Theyâd also damaged several prototypes that, while aggravating to lose, had borne unexpected fruit.
The two men, both professionals, had been in much better condition than the scabs Lokinstein was used to working with. Heâd seen to it that their bodies were put to much better use, using bits and pieces from both men in his final creation.
Moving past the curious table, the mad doctor gingerly sat the box heâd been cradling on the table. He pulled the top from it and looked upon the quivering lump inside. A brain, human point of fact, still glistening in ichor and gore rested inside.
âIâve finally found it, Rickgor, the final piece of the puzzle.â
âYou meanâŠâŠâ
âThatâs right, Rickgor. The engine to drive my marvelous creation, the brain of the Major.â
The Major, as he was known in the village, was a wily old veteran. A survivor of several bloody campaigns that had left scores of lesser men dead. He was a pillar of the community, a cornerstone. Or at least he had been. Too much to drink, a dash of arsenic in his evening meal of noodles and red sauce, and the Major had shuffled off his earthly coil, leaving behind that perfect specimen of a brain.
It was a cruel fate that the town constable had stumbled upon him as he completed his gruesome work. Unable to use words or coin to convince the man look the other way, the ruckus heâd raised had drawn an angry mob. It was surely providence that Dr. Lokinstein had been able to flee.
The Doctor took his prize to the main table. Angling the table up, the brain slid into the waiting cavity stem first. Days past as Lokinstein connected each individual nerve ending. Finally, he let out a triumphant roar, startling a sleeping Rickgor out of his stupor.
âRickgnor, it is done! Open the hatch!â
Rickgor scuttled to the other side of the table and began pulling the chain that dangled there. As he pulled and pulled and pulled some more, the hatch in the roof slid open. The Stormm still raged outside, sending rain through the portal. Lokistein threw a lever, causing the great table to raise into the Stormm.
This was it, his moment of triumph! With this, arguably his greatest creation, Lokinstein would do what no man had ever done before. Conquer the Grimm!
The Grimm, half fairytale, half nightmare, half elder thing from outside of reality. All nightmare. It had plagued these lands for as long as Dr. Lokinstein could remember. It had haunted his father and his fatherâs father. Generations of Lokinsteins cowering before the beast. Well no more, the Grimmâs days were finally numbered.
A bolt of lightning hit the table, meat sizzled and arcs of electricity danced down the long metal pole. Lokinstein threw the lever back to its original position and the table descended. Both men watching in hushed fascination as the figure under the table twitched. Finally, it reached up, pulling the shroud from its body.
âITâS ALIVE!â
Rickgore clapped excitedly.
âWelcome, my monster. I am your father. And you, you will help me kill The Grimm!â
