"What do you mean, everyone?" Baldrick asked. Baldrick was a small, hairy man who walked stooped over; he was sweating and nervous.

"EVERYONE!" Omega screamed, and the world stood still.

Baldrick ran outside to fetch the army of the dead. Omega stood seething as the legions of corpses marched past him into the tower. They reeked of death: tattered flesh flapped in the wind, their stench filled the air. They moved on, slowly entering the tower. The guards they slew rose up minutes later to join their ranks.

Oh, he would have that fool mage - that mage had taunted and thwarted him for nearly half a century now. The last elf mage, the last elf left; it gave him a rush to think he was going to be responsible for the extinction of a race. That fool mage had been trying to get back at Omega since he had wiped out his village. It was nothing personal; Omega had needed the life energy for an experiment of his, but that fool mage had made it his life quest to end Omega's. As if he could manage that. But he was a pain, an itch that had to be scratched. He had great things in the planning, great, but the mage was an interference. So he had tracked the mage back to his tower. On the way he had killed a small army of bandits; then he had gone with them from town to town killing them, increasing his ranks through recruitment. He chuckled at that thought. Recruitment. And now, as they finally marched upon the elf's tower, now the final stanza was beginning.

Then, all of a sudden, Omega began to dance. To waltz. He frantically danced back and forth, to music only he could hear. The screams of death filled in as the chorus for the unheard music as the tower was pushed apart by his dead minions in an eerie crescendo. He danced on as the tower fell apart around him, and his hordes grew, taking the lives of everything in the tower. A guard ran up to him from the battlefield behind, thought dead, and swung a heavy mace at Omega, who danced out of the way. The guard lifted the mace to strike again, his effort audible in his breathing; and Omega hopped upon a rock, then, as if conducting the eerie silence, he waved his arms frantically up and down. The soldier swung at Omega, who, as if in tune with the high points of the music, tossed a knife into the soldier's head, who promptly died. Omega leapt down on the chest of the dying man and grinned down at him.

BOOM!

The top of the tower exploded; rubble flew everywhere. The flesh of his minions followed, well-toasted and crispy. When the rubble cleared, only the base of the tower was left. Omega picked himself up and dusted himself off. At least that fool was dead for sure. A grin spread across his face and he entered what remained of the tower.

Darkness, yet more death. It felt good. He could feel it in his bones, the raw power; he seeped up the death like a baby at it's mother's breast. Then something began to emerge from the wall; it seeped out like ooze. What could it be? Omega wondered. He pulled back into the shadows, like a wraith.

As he looked on, the accursed mage stepped from the wall. Damn, Omega thought, that fool survived. The mage walked from the tower thinking he was safe, even as Omega stepped from the shadows, Valiant Knife in hand. He swung the knife down, and it plunged deep into the fleshy back of the mage.

"Death comes to all those that wait!" Omega screamed. The mage turned, a green crystal in his hand. He fell to the ground and looked up at Omega.

"Yes it does, my old friend, even to you. With my last breath, I curse you with the power of Animus."

"You old fool. What can you do to me?" He laughed.

"This." The mage used the magicite. It glowed, a glow which enveloped Omega, leaving in his place a small green crystal. The screams of Omega's agony seemed to echo in its heart.

"Your soul is now in that gem, you bastard. And it will remain that way for all time. And now, one last thing before I die."

The mage picked up the crystal and crawled to a spot in the floor, which he promptly melted through. Somewhere deep under the earth, he reappeared, crystal in hand. The room had the aura of a tomb, which it would shortly become. The mage set the crystal down in a coffin-like structure, which he then sealed.

"Now you're gone for good. You and your evil. Now for a ga-" The mages never finished his words; the pain stopped him. Now his time was short, and he cast his remaining life energy into the two statues at the room's door.

"Gaurd over this room," he told them. "Any who enter, kill them." Then he turned back to the crystal that was Omega. "Now, you bastard, your evils are over. You shall never walk this land again. As long as there is magic, you will be forever in that void!" He smiled as he died, knowing his life had not been spent in vain.

Emptiness.

Silence.

An entity ponders what it feels. Nothing. No sight. No hearing. No touch. No taste. No smell. No pleasure. No pain. But an awareness. An awareness that there is nothing. Void. Forever.

How long has it been like this? No sense of time. Time doesn't pass. Having just arrived, and been here forever. No time, no space. Void. Why is the entity here? Unaware. Always here. Never here.

Nothing exists in this place. If this is place. Do I exist? I believe I exist. I could be wrong. Just in case I will go back to not identifying myself.

What is there, if there is nothing? What is the entity that is called 'I'?

There is no knowledge. There is no power. There is no me. No I. Just void. And...

And...

There *is* something...

It grows. It was small, but it pushes at the edge of the void, filling it. It stretches the boundaries of infinity, threatning to break through. It is one thing.

Hate.

A dark figure moves around in the rubble. The moon is full, and it gives him the boon of shadows.

Slowly he climbs up one of the larger rocks and scours the countryside. He puts his hand to his forehead and turns, examining the horizon. The wind blows again, his clothes and cape ruffle in the wind.

"I love these calm little moments before the storm," he says to himself.

The light catches his dark features in a deathly contrast. "It seems that the world has changed much in my absence. I wonder if it was for the better. We shall see. For now, though, I need to find something to do. This place bores me. Upward and onward to new things, better things!"

The mass of dark clothing slides down the side of the rock, which crumbles behind him as he goes.

As he walks away from the ruins he sings: "Let me introduce myself. I am a man of great wealth and taste!"

He continues after a slight pause, "I hope you guess my name! But what's confusing you is just the nature of my game!"

His voice fades into the distance, his form only a dark blot on the horizon.

The wind blows.

The cabin boy ran, only to come back a little later with the captain's alcoholic beverage of choice.

"Here you go. Cap!" the cabin boy stammered, and handed the mug to his captain.

"Yeah. How long till we reach Jidoor?" The captain finished the ale in one fell swoop.

"I think about an hour. Should I make sure?" the cabin boy asked.

"Yeah, well you see, our guest here wants to know, so go now! Ask the navigator."

The cabin boy ran up to the top deck. The captain turned back to his guest, who sat silently across the table. "So, my friend, what takes you to Jidoor?"

"Entertainment."

"Oh... going for the art gallery, eh?"

"No."

"What then? Got friends there?"

"No." The man drank from his cup.

The captain chuckles. A large grin came accross his face. "What, for nothing illicit?" The captain winked, and nudged the air like an idiot.

"No." The man still remained emotionless.

"Then what in the name of Frank are you searching for?" The captain became visibly annoyed. He was becoming frustrated with his guest. All he wanted was some conversation, and the man provided none. All he did was sit there and sip his damn drink.

"Entertainment."

"Why? What? Speak, son! Stop being so illusive!" The captain was very annoyed at his company's inhospitality.

"Ooooh. Big word. To escape cretins like you who are frankly boring and of no importance. I go to seek adventure; I have heard there is much to be found on that land mass. Does that satisfy your apeish curiosity?"

"Why you little punk, how dare you speak to me that way!"

"What way?" The man grinned, his white smile peeking out from his black apparel like lightning striking from the darkness of a cloud. "Ohhh... by pointing out your serious lack of interest, intellegence or entertainment. By pointing out how far behind in evolution you are and by pointing out that to have gotten as far as you have, with *so* little, is utterly amazing? That sort of thing?"

The captain jumped up from his chair, sending his food flying. "What! How dare you! I let you on my ship, which doesn't normally take passengers..."

"I paid you handsomely, more than triple my weight in the cargo that I caused you to leave behind."

"I don't care! You insulted me!"

"And I'll do it again. Cretin."

"Look, you, I even gave you food, I invited you into my cabin."

"And again I paid you well. And I paid you too much to be forced into your unintelligent and boring conversation. I don't want to listen to you. You didn't get the hint from my silence, or curt answers, or my unfriendly demeanor. I have to blatantly insult you to get it through your thick skull that I don't like and don't want to listen to you."

"That's it! Prepare to defend yourself!"

"You don't wan't to do that. I would kill you in a second. Then I would have to kill your enraged crew, assuming they like you enough to avenge you're death... which is doubtful, but you never know. They might just take it as an excuse to kill me and take my money. Who knows, it will take more energy and effort than is worth it, plus its so much trouble to clean up after."

"To hell with you!" The captain drew his blade. The man just sat there. The captain lunged. In a blur, the man was up and out of his chair, dodging the blade. The captain swiped at the man again, who jumped up out of the way onto the captain's bed. The captain brought the sword down vertically at the man, who nimbly rolled out of the way; the blade continues onward and got stuck in the bed.

"I told you not to bother me." The man sipped from his drink, which he was still holding, unspilled.

"Why you little smeg!"

"Do you know what smeg actually is?"

"Err, no. Not really."

"Look it up sometime. You won't want to use that expression anymore."

"Screw you!" The captain pulled the sword from the bed, and again lunged at the man, who simply moved his head out of the way. This time the tip of the blade made contact.

"Ow," The man says. He brings his hand up to his cheek. Blood. He has been cut. Hurt. Touched. Pain. Intolerance. Anger. Seething anger. "That hurt. I warned you. That's all I have to say."

The captain swung again. The man ducked, and the sword slammed into the bedpost. The captain took one hand off the sword and swung it at the man, thinking him unable to dodge. The man didn't; he caught the captain's fist in his right hand, and pressed a nerve on the captain's wrist. The captain responded with a scream of pain and the opening of his hand. The man grabbed the captain's fingers and thrust them upward with a sharp cracking sound. As the captain's scream increased in volume, the man's left hand darted out, grabbed the captain's nose, and twisted, breaking it instantly.

The captain screamed. "Why wou wittle punk! I'm going to kill wou! Pwepare to die!" He pulled his hands free and reached for his sword's hilt, but he didn't quite make it, for a second later the man smashed his cup up into the captain's neck, pushing it back far enough to snap it. As the captain's body hit the ground, the cabin boy and two sailors ran into the room.

The man grabbed the captain's fork from under the table in one hand and pulled some coins from his pocket in the other. He hurled the coins at the sailors, who were drawing their weapons. One of the coins cut the ear partially off of one of them, who fell to the floor, screaming. The cabin boy ran screaming at the man, who stepped out the way and pushed the cabin boy out the captain's window; that action was followed a moment later by an audible splash. The third sailor didn't move, mostly becuase of the coins embedded in his head.

The man then walked over to the collapsed sailor, plunged the fork into his eye, and then removed it again. The fork glistened with the blood of the newly dead. Then he grabbed his staff and swept it over the bodies. Green mist began to rise from the bodies and was absorbed by the staff. It glowed green, and then the man began to as well. He swung his arms outward, cross-like, and looked to the sky. He began to gnash his teeth and tense his neck muscles, as he circled his head around and around. Then he let out an earth-shattering scream. Sweating, he wiped his mouth with his arm.

"Come on!" he screamed. "I got plenty for everybody! I'll swallow your soul!" Fork in hand, he proceeded topside.