Hagintora
Chatelain Rapid Response
Gallente Federation
215
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Posted - 2014.02.17 01:35:00 -
[1] - Quote
Part One
Once upon a contract dreary,
While I lay there, weak and weary,
After a hard and furious battle along New EdenGÇÖs shores,
I lay there gasping, rasping, coughing,
When suddenly I felt a touching,
As of someone gently tugging,
Tugging at my minds door.
`'Tis only Death,' I muttered, `tugging at my minds door -
Only this, and nothing more.'
Ah, distinctly I remember
My entire squad had been dismembered,
And each separate dying member
Wrought his clone upon the floor.
Not eagerly, I wished the morrow;
As vainly, I had sought to borrow
From my Corp enough for Proto GÇô oh pridefully did I implore -
For that rare and radiant Dropsuit that inspires malice, did I implore-
Useless here, forevermore.
And the bloodlust rushing through me
With each broken, twisted body
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
Until now, and the stilled beating
Of my heart, I thought, repeating
`'Tis only Death entreating entrance at my minds door -
That hooded specter, entreating entrance at my minds door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'
Presently my soul grew stronger;
Hesitating then no longer,
`Death,' said I, `oh specter, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But my heart, it was still beating,
And so harshly was I breathing,
And so faintly were you tugging, tugging at my minds door,
That I scarce was sure I felt you' - here I died, and opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering,
Long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken,
And the darkness gave no token,
And the only words there spoken were the whispered numbers, `5-1-4!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back, GÇÿ5-1-4!'
Only this and nothing more.
Back into a new clone churning,
All my soul within me burning,
Soon again I felt the tugging, somewhat stronger than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely this is something with my implant matrix;
Let me see then, what there is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis just a glitch, and nothing more!'
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a gasp and stutter,
In there stepped a clone, dead and shredded from battles of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, strode he through my chamber door -
And sat upon my chambers couch, his fresh wounds dripping gore -
Sat, and stared, and nothing more.
Then this grotesquery beguiling
My mad fancy into smiling,
As I recognized the grave and stern countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven,
Thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
But my ghastly twin and hard used clone wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me why you came here on this Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth my clone, `5-1-4.'
Much I marveled this unseemly
Corpse to hear discourse so easily,
Though its answer had little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing
That no living human being
Ever yet was blessed by seeing his own dead clone striding through his chamber door
To sit upon my seldom used couch, while his gaping wounds drip gore,
With such a reason as, `5-1-4.'
But the clone, sitting lonely
On my couch, spoke only,
Those three numbers, as if his soul in those three numbers he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered GÇô
Not an eyelid did he flutter -
GÇÿTill I scarcely more than muttered `Other clones have died before -
Why did he not stay dead, as all the rest have done before.'
Then the clone said, `5-1-4.'
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Hagintora
Chatelain Rapid Response
Gallente Federation
215
|
Posted - 2014.02.17 01:35:00 -
[2] - Quote
PART 2
Startled at the stillness broken
By reply so promptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Confused from some hard fought battle
Which clearly ended in disaster
Killing fast but killed the faster so his mind only one burden bore -
Only one thing his shattered mentality bore
Of the number "5-1-4."'
But the corpse still beguiling
All my mad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of clone and couch and gore;
Then, upon the velvet sinking,
I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous clone of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous clone of yore
Meant in moaning `5-1-4.'
This I sat engaged in guessing,
But no syllable expressing
To the corpse whose cold eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining,
And all the while I was trying
Not to see the midnight lining of his armor, which was Proto.
That metallic midnight lining of a grossly misused Proto,
I shall use, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser,
Perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the bare floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee GÇô
By his angels he has sent thee
To spite GÇô to spite, and by your presence, offend me in my memories of losing Proto!
Stop, oh stop this unkind trolling, and let me forget this misused and abused ghost of Proto!'
Quoth my clone, `5-1-4.'
`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! GÇô
Prophet still, if clone or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted,
By your very presence taunted -
And in my home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there meaning? - tell me - tell me, why GÇÿ5-1-4GÇÖ!'
Quoth my clone, `5-1-4.'
`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! GÇô
Prophet still, if clone or devil!
By the stars burn that above us - by malice we have sown -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden
If, within the distant Aidenn,
I shall wear that midnight lining whom the mercs have named Proto -
Wear that metallic midnight lining, whom the mercs have named Proto?'
Quoth my clone, `5-1-4.'
`Be those words our sign of parting,
Clone or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no smear of blood as token
Of these numbers thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my bitterness unbroken! GÇô off my couch, and out my door!
Take thy wretched body from off my couch, and thy false face out of my door!'
Quoth my clone as it departed,
`5-1-4.'
And my mind, never ceasing,
Still is dreaming, still is dreaming
Of the Dust of battles fought on New EdenGÇÖs Plutonian shores;
And my eyes have all the seeming
Of a madman that is screaming,
As I sit here watching shadows cast upon on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor,
Cries out to the HeavensGǪGÇÖ5-1-4!GÇÖ
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