Slarthacore's page

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So you say. I don't know you. What if you're dangerous? What if you use this information against me?

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So! What does me being dead already have to do with anything?! I still have FEELINGS.

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No, wait! Wait! Come back. I'll answer your stupid questions. I was born on dark and stormy night in mid--

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Yes, it was ACTUALLY dark and stormy! YOU WANT MY LIFE STORY OR NOT, PUS-FACE?

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Ahem. As I was saying, I was born on a dark and stormy night in mid-winter. They would say in later years that this was the night all the crows died, and the next day, the sun never came up at all-- What?

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Well, you had a look on your face.

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WHO TOLD YOU THAT?!

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Yeah, well I don't care who you talked to from my home village. They all hated me, anyway, so of course they would suppress all the extraordinary legends about me. MOVING ON... All the villagers despised me because of my obviously epic birth. They all denied it, but I could see through all that. Some of the more conniving ones even tried to "befriend" me in order to get close to me and find out if I had a weakness. You should have seen their faces when I would call them out on their devious plans! Blubbering and stuttering and looking so shocked! BWAHAHAHAHA!

HA.

Heh.

Ahhhhh, where was I? Oh, the lying sacks I grew up with... They would never, ever just confess to it, so I was always having to get creative in order to learn the truth. I'm a very creative person, so it was easy for me. I mean, you probably already noticed a lot of my creativity and mysterious allure just listening to my storytelling abilities... Hmm?

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Oh, I thought I heard you say something after I'd said that you probably noticed my, um... No? Well...

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Yeah, let's just move on. So, anyway, at a very early and advanced age, I put my considerable creative abilities to use investigating my neighbors. I tended to spend most of my free time hanging around in alleys and under bridges so that I'd be able to overhear conversations unawares. Sometimes I'd crawl onto people's roofs or under their beds. I never actually heard anything definitive, but whenever they would catch me at it, they'd get very angry, so I know I was very close to catching them multiple times.

When I got older, I got the idea that maybe I was never able to overhear anything because they were writing it down. So I spent most of my time searching through their homes when they were out, looking for papers. Since they would naturally write down everything in code—I’m very intelligent, you see, so they had to be extra sneaky—I took the papers home with me to decipher. I almost had it cracked before I died, but they got to me first and executed me.

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Well, no, of course they didn’t say it was because I was getting so close, they’d never admit that. No, they trumped up some charges against me. See, the elders used to meet in secret doing some stupid, like, “holy rites,” or something. Obviously, this was where they were having their meetings to plot against me. So I did what anyone would do… I stole the vicar’s robes, covered my face with a cowl, and snuck in. They ended up spotting me right away because the robes are way too big for me, and then they went on and on and on about “what is to be done about her” and “menace to the community” and “desecrating holy rituals which constitutes blasphemy demanding of death,” blah, blah, blah. It was all a ruse, of course, but they ended up burning me alive in the town square. Jerks.

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