The Chronicles of Fyurie
Editor’s notes: To my fellow Gods, Abandon hope all ye who enter, for this tome chronicles the odyssey of a creature as vile as she is sarcastic. It speaks the tale of Fyurie; Whose very mention inspires unsanitary gestures; Whose rude comments sends the bravest monsters weeping for the taverns; And whose name is writ in the blood of fallen heroes. This story seeks to illuminate the truth behind our heroes – that they are not as meek as they would have us believe. And they are coming for us. For we are as much in control as we are controlled. May the Admins have mercy on us all.
Prologue: The Birth of an Anti-Hero (because we’re too evolved to be sexist)
I’m pretty special. Not because I had memories of my birth (still working that one out with my therapist) or that I glow on command (I have since come to understand that glowing is not uncommon) but because high above me, on the night of my creation, a gigantic head, framed by the heavens and lit by lightning, gazed down upon me. And it smiled.
I would have smiled back but the fact is, I was naked and his smile was one part creepy and two parts dork. I wasn’t about to give His Majesty the satisfaction of thinking he had a chance.
But as quickly as the smile had come, it faded into a look of confusion. A minute passed and then another as He did nothing. Was he waiting for something? And that’s when I noticed the diary. As I touched it, I was overcome with the intense urge to write.
I was possessed. I tried channeling my inner Tolkien but, as it turns out, my muse didn’t wield such talent. Instead, she has the wit of an inebriated unicorn and wields humor the way a 3-year-old boy wields his tongue- with great vigor and much articulation of bodily fluids. I needed to laugh but it wasn’t in the script.
Looking up, a spark had appeared in his Majesty’s eyes. His smile had grown into a wide grin and a low rumbling could be heard in the distance. Was he amused by these ramblings? He too must have the mind of a 3-year-old. Sigh God help me. Oh wait…
Just then, lightning tore across the sky. It headed straight for me! I tried escaping but my feet had frozen. The lag was rendering me helpless! The strike was now inevitable. I shut my eyes and I waited for my end. It was all I could do to tightly press my hands against my ears. At times like these, the phrase comes to mind: The Lord giveth and the Lord be a complete jerk.
And then, the attack passed. Recovering, I found that I had been flung to the ground. My thighs were a touch raw but everything else seemed fine. I took a kneel and thanked God for his terrible aiming (and that I hope my sarcasm finds him well.)
“Almighty, what was that for?!” I scribbled angrily.
As I picked myself up, I caught a whiff of scorched earth wafting through the air. I stood up and followed the terrible scent. The sight that awaited me was as eco-unfriendly as it was baffling. The lightning had seared the land the size of a football field! But more surprisingly, it had formed words! I scurried to the highest point I could find and took in the sight of my Almighty’s first words, “Wassap y’all!”
Poor delivery, terrible pacing, disastrous form – 1 and a half popcorns (There are limits to my generosity). “You can do better Almighty.”
Perhaps calling him a 3-year-old was a bit of a stretch. His brain must lack an auto-correct function. What a pitiful sight. Does he fancy himself witty?
Shoddy grammar aside, the implications of this event was starting to sink in. It meant that there was someone up there – powerful, dumb and eager for attention – on my side! My birth; the grand messages; the dismembered head in the sky – think of all the other possibilities! Woot! If I played my cards right, power and glory shall await me! Perhaps He could be of some use after all.
I was so excited I think I peed a little. Or did I?
Nope, that is DEFINITELY pee.
As an aside, I’ve realized that I could not speak. It was just like being Stephen Hawking – grimly typing my thoughts away while frustratingly confined to a two dimensional world. The irony that someone dreaming of all the glory of space-time was confined to a chair was not lost on me. Someone I can truly sympathize with. I wonder if anyone else had stumbled onto this ridiculous piece of trivia. Surely there must be like-minded heroes around who I can speak to… Off to the tavern!
Chapter 1 or the First Resurrection: Better to give than to receive
Life is like a box of chocolates. Only if by chocolates you mean pointy fangs and sharp blades. I never know when I’m about to get skewered.
Its only my first day on the job and already I’ve lost four-fifth’s of my limbs, all my hair is falling out and my make-up is running. You have quite the sense of humor Almighty. First you put frogs in my sandwich, and then you piled a herd of cows on top of me and let’s not forget that family of rabbits. You know I hate the feel of their fuzzy paws prodding me!
My only respite is in the fighting. But even I get weary.
“Almighty, that last milestone was a real doozy. I realize that I might not make it to the next town. So, I decided to write a poem. In the event of my premature departure, I’d like you to recite this poem at my funeral. This is my best work (my only work but you can put aside semantics for a dying hero yes?) I hope you like it. It’s called Raven’s Burial.”
Ample make this nest,
Let it lie in spite.
Cradled in his broken egg,
Made ruin on first flight.
– - – - – - – - – - – - – -
Be the branches poison,
Decay set in their cores.
Let no song nor early light,
Warm his thinning caws.
For a moment, the Almighty had me standing in silence. It was only after a long wait that he finally sent a stone slab flying to my feet. “Wow. Emo is so not your color! Alright, alright, I’ll lay off the thunderbolts. Here, have a rainbow! And ponies! Some fresh breezes! Whatever you need to get over this weepy phase!”
Almighty, why don’t you take me seriously as a writer? I demand approval! God, where’s a sheer cliff when you need one…
One day Kyrin was relaxing in a pool on a hot summer afternoon and felt that He needed something soft to sleep on without having to get up. So he took in one hand some jelly He had found in his pocket earlier that day and His sister's goldfish that he wasn't too fond off and pressed them together really hard. They were both ruined. Then he decided on trying it with a jellyfish and used some honey instead. Hey presto! The Royal Jellyfish was born! God, Kyrin is such a genius. Everyone said so.
After eating some amazing lamb kebabs at an old and dirty yet homely Turkish restaurant, Kyrin wondered aloud what a sheep would look like if could join the military. He almost immediately regretted it. But not before playing a friendly game of checkers with the Battlesheep that suddenly appeared out from behind the counter. Kyrin won (naturally) but the Battlesheep got really angry and opened fire on Fyurie. Fyurie has since recovered but she could never again eat lamb chops without first scanning the room for checkerboards. Silly Fyurie.
Kyrin has always wanted an Evil Genie for a companion ever since he watched Disney's Aladdin. But the other Gods of Godville were extremely against the idea and has prevented Him from creating one at every turn. So He instead hatched a devious plan to release an evil genie right under their noses. A plan where they would unwittingly come to love the very idea of the Evil Genie and were unable to live without one. And so the Sacrificial Lamp was created. Little did they know that once enough wishes were granted, the Evil Genie would finally be released.... MUAHAHAHAH!