| | The Stories by Richard Karsmakers
Lethal Xcess Story, 1st Attempt
Written on July 29th for Eclipse Software's "Lethal Xcess". My
girlfriend actually deserves the credit for the basic plot.
Hell is a pretty rotten place. Not only is it damn hot, but its inhabitants
also have a rather deranged sense of humour. Reason enough to try and get out of
it, but that tends to be so hard that nobody succeeds and everybody would rather
adapt himself to the exotic temperature and odd sense of humour instead. But not
John Doe, full time philanthropist and part time science fiction games designer.
Not the John Doe, the person that had never killed but a fly in his
entire life, the person that had donated such ludicrously huge amounts of money
to orphans and cancer research that his heirs had threatened to sue him. Not
John Doe!
Due to a devilish trick of fate, however, some nutcase had put a 9 mm
slug between his eyes. Just like that, one happy spring morning on the corner of
11th and Wall Street - speaking of 'being at the wrong place at the wrong time'!
While his spirit left his body, gently bobbing above the remains, he saw the
gun- wielding hooligan stealing his money and American Express Travellers
Cheques.
This would all have been perfectly all right had he taken the right turn
after cloud nine. Unfortunately, he hadn't. Whereas he should have followed a
traffic sign labelled "Heavenly Bliss and lots of Groovy Peace" he
absent-mindedly walked into the direction leading to "Eternal Hellfire,
Damnation and Utter Pandemonium".
The first thing he had considered odd was the guardian's costume. Whereas he
had expected kind of a light robe and a long beard he saw instead a black
goatee, two little horns and a distinctly red complexion.
"Excuse me, sir," John ventured, feeling ill at ease, "Would
you be so kind as to announce my arrival at these here Gates of Heaven? I'm Doe.
John Doe. Philanthropist and part time science fiction games designer."
The demon (for, as you could have guessed already, it was none less than a
demon that sat there) stifled a chuckle, frowned, and casually played with his
laser gun. "Sure," it said, "just go right ahead. Turn left
behind the seventh gate."
Mr. Doe was surprised to discover he had unintentionally wandered into Hell,
which he only found out after having passed through the seventh gate - a demonic
laughter echoed through the archway of gates far behind him.
But then it was too late. "There is no way back now, chum," a voice
said. John turned around and found himself looking directly into the metallic
eyes of a big red robot. It is a common misconception that Satan looks like a
goat that has eaten too much lobster. As a matter of fact, he looks like a big
red robot with smoke coming from his nostrils and a large Howitzer laser built
into his right arm. John sensed that this had to be the purest kind of evil he
would ever meet.
"No...no way out?" he asked, having trouble to get rid of that frog
in his throat. Satan nodded in meaningful silence.
"Unless you want to fight the creatures from your own Hell," the
Evil One said, making grotesque gestures with his arms, "Monstrous beings
contrived by nothing less than your own imagination. Hideous creatures that
spill forth death and destruction. Vile machines driven by your own fantasy,
impossible to beat. Evil aberrations from the depths of your worst fear- ridden
nightmares."
John trembled. A chair appeared from nothing, allowing him to sit down.
"W...will I...I...h...have to beat all those?" he stuttered. Satan
folded his arms, nodding with his eyes closed. "But...but...I h...haven't
even killed a fly in my life, you know, and now I h...have to fight my
way through all those...those dismal monstrosities?"
"Those," Satan replied smugly, "and probably a jolly lot
more." It was then that Mr. Doe decided to change his life (well, his
"death", actually). Gone were the days of peace and quiet. He would
get out of this self-styled hell if it was going to be the last thing he'd ever
do!
©1991 Richard Karsmakers
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Wings of Death II, 2nd Attempt (English)
Another commercial assignment: The background novel to the game "Wings
of Death II" by Eclipse Software. Written September 20th 1991. This version
was the original one. It turned out to be a technical shoot-'em-up later, so I
had to rewrite it into the final version.
Life had been terrific. After Sagyr had finally succeeded in defeating the
wicked witch Xandrilia and found the potion that enabled him to regain the shape
of his former self, people from all over the world had visited him. For them he
was the greatest magician alive, which he had no reason to dislike. For many
years, people would come to him whenever they needed minor bits of magic to be
done. Some time ago an apprentice by the name of Kurgan had even requested his
aid concerning the release of an entire enchanted land! Sagyr had it made. He
was invited to royal parties and trivia quiz panels; he was asked to cut the
ceremonial ribbon at official openings. If he would have lived in our days, in
our plane of reality, he would have been contracted for washing powder
commercials. He had nothing whatsoever to complain about. Life was terrific, and
it looked set to remain that way, smiling broadly at him.
Until one day a soft, wet knock could be heard on the wooden door of his
humble abode. It was already getting late - the moon was full and the sound of
wolves' howling would have made chills rush up and down his spine if he wouldn't
have been Sagyr, the famous, powerful sorcerer. He was in the middle of mixing
ingredients, trying to make a potion that could change gold into the lead he
needed because his washbasin was leaking. He muttered a soft curse when he heard
the knock. It was repeated. It sounded as if a small lump of meat was being
pounced into the door. "Yes, yes," Sagyr muttered. He staggered to the
door. The awkwardness of his movements made him think back of when Xandrilia had
changed him into an animal. He hadn't liked it, but at least he had been able to
fly like an eagle, hear like a bat, buzz like a dragonfly. Being enchanted had
had its good sides - one of them being the lack of his rheumatic symptoms. He
muttered another curse when he opened the door and saw nothing but the endless
black void of midnight out of which only arose the howling of wolves and the odd
sound of owls. The curse was followed by some words that would have made Eddie
Murphy blush if he only had lived in the same time and, indeed, in the same
plane of reality.
Sagyr returned to his cauldron, intending to continue mixing ingredients.
Maybe some eye of newt? Some tongue of frog? Wings of bat? Some Plantiac? When
he was about to take a swig of the latter, he suddenly noticed something green
on the ground that mysteriously made the name "Kermit" appear in his
mind. He discarded the thought and instead bent over to look at it more
intently. It was a frog and, although it was a strange thing for a frog to do,
it held a little scroll between its front paws. Sagyr took the little scroll and
unrolled it. On it was a totally ridiculous text. "EVEN THOUGH IT MIGHT
SEEM ODD TO YOU RIGHT NOW, I AM ACTUALLY A BEAUTIFUL PRINCESS. ALL YOU NEED TO
DO IS KISS ME."
Sagyr thought deep. He knew this was ridiculous but the only thing he had
always longed for was a female companion - just about the only thing his fame
had not awarded him with. He took the frog in his hand. It felt like wet clay,
and looked revolting. All he had to do was kiss it and he would have the
companion he had wanted so long. Finally he would no longer be alone when mixing
potions - and he would no longer need to do all the paperwork involved with his
sorcery practice. Wow. And a princess at that! That was even better than, let's
say, the ordinary everyday girl. He closed his eyes and thought fervently about
the first girl he had ever cuddled on junior apprentice school - who had,
accidentally, also been the last one. He kissed the frog.
A flash of bright lightning split the blackened night sky in two, immediately
followed by a crack of thunder sufficient to scare off death. Sagyr opened his
eyes. Princesses surely weren't as beautiful any more - not like he recalled
them from the good ol' days. The one standing in his laboratory right now had
long, grey, ragged hair that clung to her body as if she had just emerged from a
pool of mud - which was a fitting description for the rest of the state she was
in. The note must have been mistaken. She didn't look like a princess at all.
She looked more like an evil witch of some sort, like... "Xandrilia!"
he exclaimed in a voice tinged with fright, stepping back in awe.
The witch didn't say anything but her eyes mutely spoke of death and revenge.
Quite forgetting all about the fact that she was standing in front of her arch
adversary in a rather nude, befuddled and altogether silly way, she spread her
arms and cast an evil glance skyward. Sagyr took another step back. He felt his
throat tighten, as if powers beyond his were at work. Sweat appeared on his
brow. What could he do? His potions were out of reach. He had given his magic
wand to a chap called Geraden two days earlier. There was no way out. His powers
were of no avail here. He could beg for mercy, but something told him Xandrilia
was not in the mood. Another flash of lightning seemed to yank the heavens
asunder. The crack of thunder that followed would have been enough to cause
mayhem in hell.
No. Not again. He felt a strange sensation in his stomach that quickly went
to his head. He felt fur on his arms. Or were it feathers? Xandrilia laughed
like only triumphant evil witches can laugh - in an altogether very evil way.
No. Not again. Not now. He could learn to hate fate.
©1991 Richard Karsmakers
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Wings of Death II Final (English)
Life had been terrific. After Sagyr had finally succeeded in defeating the
wicked witch Xandrilia and found the potion that enabled him to regain the shape
of his former self, people from all over the world had visited him. For them he
was the greatest magician alive, which he had no reason to dislike. Sagyr had it
made. He was invited to royal parties and trivia quiz panels. If he would have
lived in our days, in our plane of reality, he would have been contracted for
washing powder commercials. He had nothing to complain about. Life was terrific,
and it looked set to remain that way.
Until one day a soft, wet knock could be heard on the wooden door of his
humble abode. It was already getting late - the moon was full and the sound of
wolves' howling would have made chills rush up and down his spine if he wouldn't
have been Sagyr, the famous, powerful sorcerer. He was in the middle of mixing
ingredients, trying to make a potion that could change gold into the lead he
needed because his washbasin was leaking. He muttered a soft curse when he heard
the knock. It was repeated. It sounded as if a small lump of meat was being
pounced into the door. "Yes, yes," Sagyr muttered. He staggered to the
door. He muttered another curse when he opened the door and saw nothing but the
endless black void of midnight out of which only arose the howling of wolves and
the odd sound of owls. The curse was followed by some words that would have made
Eddie Murphy blush if he only had lived in the same time and, indeed, in the
same plane of reality.
Sagyr returned to his cauldron, intending to continue mixing ingredients.
Maybe some eye of newt? Some tongue of frog? Wings of bat? Some Plantiac? When
he was about to take a swig of the latter, he suddenly noticed something green
on the ground that mysteriously made the name "Kermit" appear in his
mind. He discarded the thought and instead bent over to look at it more
intently. It was a frog and, although it was a strange thing for a frog to do,
it held a little scroll between its front paws. Sagyr took the little scroll and
unrolled it. On it was a totally ridiculous text. "EVEN THOUGH IT MIGHT
SEEM ODD TO YOU RIGHT NOW, I AM ACTUALLY A BEAUTIFUL PRINCESS. ALL YOU NEED TO
DO IS KISS ME."
Sagyr thought deep. A strange gleam occurred in his eyes. Then he took the
frog in his hand. It felt like wet clay, and looked revolting. All he had to do
was kiss it. Finally he would no longer be alone when mixing potions - and he
would no longer need to do all the paperwork involved with his sorcery practice.
Wow. And a princess at that! That was even better than, let's say, the ordinary
everyday girl. He closed his eyes and thought fervently about the first girl he
had ever cuddled on junior apprentice school - who had, accidentally, also been
the last one. He kissed the frog.
A flash of bright lightning split the blackened night sky in two, immediately
followed by a crack of thunder sufficient to scare off death. Sagyr opened his
eyes. Princesses surely weren't as beautiful any more - not like he recalled
them from the good ol' days. The one standing in his laboratory right now had
long, grey, ragged hair that clung to her body as if she had just emerged from a
pool of mud - which was a fitting description for the rest of the state she was
in. The note must have been mistaken. She didn't look like a princess at all.
She looked more like an evil witch of some sort, like... "Xandrilia!"
he exclaimed in a voice tinged with fright, stepping back in awe.
The witch didn't say anything but her eyes mutely spoke of death and revenge.
Quite forgetting all about the fact that she was standing in front of her arch
adversary in a rather nude, befuddled and altogether silly way, she spread her
arms and cast an evil glance skyward. Sagyr took another step back. He felt his
throat tighten, as if powers beyond his were at work. Sweat appeared on his
brow. What could he do? His potions were out of reach. He had given his magic
wand to a chap called Geraden two days earlier. There was no way out. His powers
were of no avail here. He could beg for mercy, but something told him Xandrilia
was not in the mood. Another flash of lightning seemed to yank the heavens
asunder. The crack of thunder that followed would have been enough to cause
mayhem in hell.
No. Not again! He touched his skin - it was still there. He looked around him
- it was his humble abode that had been changed this time. It had been replaced
by the cockpit of a post-modern space fighter. He heard the echo of Xandrilia's
laugh linger off. He looked at a strange power window in front of him. He was
baffled to notice a text on it in illuminating capitals.
"SAGYR, YOU OLD FOOL! YOU FELL FOR THE OLDEST TRICK
IN THE BOOK! YOU HAVE BEEN TELEPORTED ABOUT 3000 YEARS INTO THE FUTURE. MY
POSTERITY HAS CONQUERED MOST OF THE UNIVERSE AND I LEAVE IT UP TO THEM TO
ENCOMPASS YOUR DOOM IN A MUCH MORE EFFECTIVE WAY THAN I COULD EVER HAVE DONE.
YOU HAVE ONLY ONE CHANCE: DESTROY THE PLANET "METHALLYCHA" WHERE MY
ULTRA-FAR-GREAT-GREAT-GRAND- CHILDREN, THE XANDRILIANS, NOW LIVE. IT'S QUITE FAR
OFF. USE THE MACHINE IN WHICH YOU ARE NOW TO FLY THERE. IT WON'T BE EASY.
YOURS DOOM-INVOKINGLY, XANDRILIA"
Sagyr cursed to himself. Damn and damn again! He pressed a red button that
had looked pretty inviting. He was pushed back in his chair and before he knew
it he was off into the vastness of a universe occupied by evil Xandrilians. At
least he had this strange war machine to help him. This steel machine with wings
of steel - wings of death.
©1991 Richard Karsmakers
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Wing of Death II Final (German Translation)
Nachdem Sagyr endlich die berüchtigte Hexe Xandrilia besiegt und mit dem
gefundenen Zaubertrank seine alte Gestalt zurückerlangt hatte, besuchten ihn
Menschen aus aller Welt. Für sie war er der größte lebende Magier. Er hatte
keinen Grund sich über irgend etwas zu beklagen. Sein Leben war phantastisch
und es schien, als ob es auch so bleiben sollte.
Doch eines Tages konnte man ein leises Klopfen an der hölzernen Tür seines
bescheidenen Wohnsitzes hören. Es war schon spät, draußen war Vollmond und
das Heulen der Wölfe hätte ihn erschauern lassen, wäre er nicht Sagyr, der
mächtige Zauberer gewesen. "Ja, ja," murmelte er und wandte sich zur
Tür. Er fluchte, als er die Tür öffnete und nichts als das endlose Schwarz
der Nacht sah, aus dem nur das Heulen der Wölfe und die seltsamen Geräusche
der Eulen zu ihm hervordrangen.
Sagyr kehrte zu seinem Kessel zurück, um weitere Zutaten in seinen Trank zu
mischen. Villeicht einige Molchaugen? Ein paar Krötenzungen? Fledermausflügel?
Etwas Plantiac? Als er gerade einen Schluck des letzteren zu sich nehmen wollte,
bemerkte er plötzlich etwas Grünes auf dem Boden. Er beugte sich herunter, um
genauer hinzusehen. Es war ein Frosch und obwohl es ziemlich merkwürdig für
einen Frosch war, hielt er eine kleine Schriftrolle. Sagyr nahm das
Schriftstück und entrollte es. Darauf stand ein Text, der ihm seltsam bekannt
vorkam.
"Auch wenn es dir im Moment sonderbar erscheinen mag, bin ich
tatsächlich eine Prinzessin. Alles was du zu tun hast, ist mich zu küssen."
Sagyr dachte lange nach. Ein seltsames Funkeln trat in seine Augen, dann nahm
er den Frosch in seine Hand. Er fühlte sich an, wie feuchter Lehm und sah
widerlich aus. Alles was er zu tun hatte, war ihn zu küssen. Immerhin würde er
nicht länger allein sein, wenn er seine Zaubertränke mixte - und er würde
nicht länger den ganzen Papierkram erledigen müssen, der mit seiner Zauberei
verbunden war. Er küsste den Frosch.
Ein leuchtender Blitz zerriß den schwarzen Nachthimmel gefolgt von einem
fürchterlichen Donnerschlag. Sagyr öffnete seine Augen. Prinzessinen waren
wohl auch nicht mehr das, was sie einmal waren. Die jetzt in seinem Labor stand,
hatte lange, graue, struppige Haare, welche an ihrem Körper klebten, als ob sie
gerade aus der nächsten Schlammpfütze aufgetaucht sei. Die Mitteilung mußte
falsch sein. Sie sah überhaupt nicht wie eine Prinzessin aus. Sie ähnelte mehr
einer Hexe von der Sorte wie... "Xandrilia!" rief er mit einer von
Angst erstickten Stimme, während er erschreckt zurückwich. Die Hexe sagte
nichts, aber ihre Augen sprachen schweigend von Tod und Vergeltung. Sie breitete
ihre Arme aus und warf einen hinterhältigen Blick himmelwärts. Sagyr machte
einen weiteren Schritt zurück. Er fühlte, wie seine Kehle zusammengedrückt
wurde, als ob Mächte am Werk waren, die seine eigenen übertrafen.
Schweißtropfen erschienen auf seiner Stirn. Was konnte er tun? Seine
Zaubertränke waren außer Reichweite und er hatte seinen Zauberstab zwei Tage
zuvor verliehen. Es gab keinen Ausweg. Seine Kräfte waren hier nutzlos. Ein
weiterer Lichtblitz schien den Himmel in Stücke zu reißen. Der darauf folgende
Donner hätte ausgereicht, um die Hölle zu verwüsten. Nein! Nicht noch einmal!
Er berührte seine Haut - sie war noch vorhanden. Er schaute sich um - diesmal
war es seine Behausung, die sich verändert hatte. Sie hatte sich in das Cockpit
eines hypermodernen Kampfraumschiffes verwandelt. Er hörte das Echo von
Xandrilias Lachen nachklingen. Dann bemerkte er das merkwürdig Fenster vor sich
und war verblüfft, darauf einen Text aus leuchtenden Buchstaben zu sehen.
"Sagyr, du bist auf den ältesten Trick der Welt
hereingefallen! Du bist ungefähr 3000 Jahre in die Zukunft teleportiert worden!
Meine Nachfahren haben den größten Teil des bekannten Universums erobert und
ich überlasse es ihnen, deinen Untergang in einer viel effektiveren Weise
herbeizuführen, als ich es jemals gekonnt hätte.
Du hast nur eine Chance: Zerstöre den Planeten "Metallycha", wo meine
ultra-weit-ur-ur-ur-Enkel, die Xandrilianer, jetzt leben. Er ist ziemlich weit
entfernt. Benutze die Maschine, in der du dich befindest, um dorthin zu fliegen.
Es wird nicht einfach werden.
Deine den Tod herbeirufende Xandrilia."
Sagyr ärgerte sich über sich selbst. Verdammt! Dann drückte er auf einen
sehr einladend aussehenden roten Knopf. Er wurde in seinen Sitz gedrückt und
bevor er wußte was los war, befand er sich auf dem Weg in die Weiten eines
Universums, das von den bösartigen Xandrilianern besetzt war. Immerhin
hatte er diese ungewöhnliche Kampfmaschine als Hilfsmittel. Eine Maschine mit
Schwingen aus Stahl - Schwingen des Todes.
©1991 Richard Karsmakers
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