- Joined
- Mar 15, 2006
- Messages
- 7,945
A short story I wrote for a local writing contest. Based around the soundclips found in Warcraft III based around Darkness. Combining clips from Demon Hunter, Arthas and Dreadlord. To make thing simpler, I created characters based around them. Illidan and Dreadlord are combined into the Necromancer, although the Dreadlord makes an appearance as himself, and Arthas is the Undead. Intended to be mildly humorous.
Pick up the phone, Darkness.
“Ring…. Ring…. Ring…” the phone went on endlessly, and still there was no answer. The Necromancer sighed to himself, “He never answers….” Yet still, the phone rang on. The answering machine clicked on. In a cheery voice that only served to anger the Necromancer more, the machine gave him the spiel. “You’ve reached the residence of Darkness, Lord of Evil, Master of Chaos and enemy of the light. I’m not here at the moment, please leave a message and I’ll contemplate whether to return your call or blow you into pieces. Thanks!” the recording clicked off and the answering machine beeped at the Necromancer, startling him.
“Darkness, pick up the phone, man. I know you’re there,” said the Necromancer into the phone, in a voice of controlled anger. “Pick up the phone, Darkness!” yelled the Necromancer. He heard Darkness’ cat meowing in the room. “Would you do it for the cat, Darkness? You’re cat wants you to pick up, so I really think you should.”
No answer.
The Necromancer sighed again. He had lost count of the number of times he had tried to call Darkness and got his answering machine. Either that or he got the static hiss of a phone line connecting to the Internet. Darkness had Dial-up. He chuckled to himself, “The defiler of the pure, ruler of the dead, and he’s still stuck with dial-up. Get with the times, Darkness!” The Necromancer thought to himself.
His mood had cheered slightly thinking about the sorry state of Darkness’ communications affairs, but he was still rather pissed about getting the answering machine again.
Several hours later, the Necromancer was furious with himself. He was on the line with the Undead, and Darkness had called. He had, of course, missed the call. He tried to Star-69 Darkness, but he got the Answering Machine of the Damned again. He screamed into the phone, “PICK UP THE PHONE, DARKNESS!” but he ignored him.
Later that day, the Necromancer was hanging around with the Undead. That is, the physical embodiment of all that are dead, and all that are damned. “So who is this Darkness guy, anyway?” asked the Undead. “He’s Darkness… you know, ruler of all the damned, enemy of the light, breeder of Despair -any other titles that I missed?” “Don’t think so” “Alright then, well you get the drill,” said the Necromancer. “Darkness is also probably the worst person you will meet for returning calls,” commented the Necromancer. “I mean, it’s like playing phone tag, except you’re in hell, and it’s for all of eternity…” he finished. “Doesn’t sound like a lot of fun,” the Undead rasped at him. “It certainly is not, he’s the most infuriating individual I know of- that is, if you can call him an individual, which is questionable and subject to much debate. What? Don’t give me that look! I have to spend all eternity in hell, what else do I have to do?” snapped the Necromancer. “Did I say anything?” the Undead replied. “Well, no, but the look! You gave me the look, you didn’t even need to say anything,” said the Necromancer. “Oh fine then, listen I’ve got an appointment with Satan to discuss Hell’s Dental Plan in 15 minutes, so I have to run. If I see Darkness, I’ll let him know you called!” yelled the Undead, as he jogged away.
Many attempts later, the Necromancer was still without a reply from Darkness. He had tried instant messaging, his cell phone, pager and even his office. No luck. And now, Darkness was on the Internet. The static hissed in his ear. “Darkness really needs to get DSL,” he muttered to himself.
Finally, a day later, and after many a call from the Necromancer, the phone rang. The Necromancer leapt for it, and held it in his hands like it was his Ticket out of Hell. He picked it up, and gave a cautious “Hello?” to be sure. “Oh, hey Darkness. The Dreadlord called? No I don’t have his number.” Click. The line went dead. Darkness had hung up on him. The Necromancer hit Star-69, but to no avail. Once more, the Answering Machine of the Damned. The Necromancer picked up his phone and hurtled it into a stream of molten rock.
Pick up the phone, Darkness.
“Ring…. Ring…. Ring…” the phone went on endlessly, and still there was no answer. The Necromancer sighed to himself, “He never answers….” Yet still, the phone rang on. The answering machine clicked on. In a cheery voice that only served to anger the Necromancer more, the machine gave him the spiel. “You’ve reached the residence of Darkness, Lord of Evil, Master of Chaos and enemy of the light. I’m not here at the moment, please leave a message and I’ll contemplate whether to return your call or blow you into pieces. Thanks!” the recording clicked off and the answering machine beeped at the Necromancer, startling him.
“Darkness, pick up the phone, man. I know you’re there,” said the Necromancer into the phone, in a voice of controlled anger. “Pick up the phone, Darkness!” yelled the Necromancer. He heard Darkness’ cat meowing in the room. “Would you do it for the cat, Darkness? You’re cat wants you to pick up, so I really think you should.”
No answer.
The Necromancer sighed again. He had lost count of the number of times he had tried to call Darkness and got his answering machine. Either that or he got the static hiss of a phone line connecting to the Internet. Darkness had Dial-up. He chuckled to himself, “The defiler of the pure, ruler of the dead, and he’s still stuck with dial-up. Get with the times, Darkness!” The Necromancer thought to himself.
His mood had cheered slightly thinking about the sorry state of Darkness’ communications affairs, but he was still rather pissed about getting the answering machine again.
Several hours later, the Necromancer was furious with himself. He was on the line with the Undead, and Darkness had called. He had, of course, missed the call. He tried to Star-69 Darkness, but he got the Answering Machine of the Damned again. He screamed into the phone, “PICK UP THE PHONE, DARKNESS!” but he ignored him.
Later that day, the Necromancer was hanging around with the Undead. That is, the physical embodiment of all that are dead, and all that are damned. “So who is this Darkness guy, anyway?” asked the Undead. “He’s Darkness… you know, ruler of all the damned, enemy of the light, breeder of Despair -any other titles that I missed?” “Don’t think so” “Alright then, well you get the drill,” said the Necromancer. “Darkness is also probably the worst person you will meet for returning calls,” commented the Necromancer. “I mean, it’s like playing phone tag, except you’re in hell, and it’s for all of eternity…” he finished. “Doesn’t sound like a lot of fun,” the Undead rasped at him. “It certainly is not, he’s the most infuriating individual I know of- that is, if you can call him an individual, which is questionable and subject to much debate. What? Don’t give me that look! I have to spend all eternity in hell, what else do I have to do?” snapped the Necromancer. “Did I say anything?” the Undead replied. “Well, no, but the look! You gave me the look, you didn’t even need to say anything,” said the Necromancer. “Oh fine then, listen I’ve got an appointment with Satan to discuss Hell’s Dental Plan in 15 minutes, so I have to run. If I see Darkness, I’ll let him know you called!” yelled the Undead, as he jogged away.
Many attempts later, the Necromancer was still without a reply from Darkness. He had tried instant messaging, his cell phone, pager and even his office. No luck. And now, Darkness was on the Internet. The static hissed in his ear. “Darkness really needs to get DSL,” he muttered to himself.
Finally, a day later, and after many a call from the Necromancer, the phone rang. The Necromancer leapt for it, and held it in his hands like it was his Ticket out of Hell. He picked it up, and gave a cautious “Hello?” to be sure. “Oh, hey Darkness. The Dreadlord called? No I don’t have his number.” Click. The line went dead. Darkness had hung up on him. The Necromancer hit Star-69, but to no avail. Once more, the Answering Machine of the Damned. The Necromancer picked up his phone and hurtled it into a stream of molten rock.
