247 Whispers and Screams
Jack watched as his Fly Fortress crossed the shoreline and into the skies of the Port City of Dypilme.
"Time."
Sixty hours and Fourteen minutes and counting to seventy-two."
Jack nodded.
[I hope nothing stalls me... Ah, shit... I just threw a flag.]
Jack facepalmed, as the Deagoth Generals looked to Joan, as the leading Warmarshal of this operation.
Joan's stoic face did not change, but she gave a wide smile that stretched her cheeks and tightened the slit on her neck, as her snake hair issued hissing laughter.
"Ssss, Ssss, Sssssss." Joan's gorgon hair drew the attention of the rest of the crew. She then held up her left skeletal hand and extended her finger to press her lips.
"Shhhhh."
The snakes silenced, as the rest watched Jack and Joan's strange behavior.
A clatter of skeletal noises and gurgled zombie coughs broke Jack's trance. He then cleared his throat.
"Latest Reports."
The sudden ramble of sounds ended as quickly as it started, as Jack's command.
"Borda armies have suddenly stood down across all battlefronts. In addition, the President of Borda stated that you, The God-King of Deagoth, are not to be obstructed, harmed, and if possible to assist with whatever endeavor that drives you."
[Huh.] Jack's face turned blank, as he stared ahead. Thankfully, none of the undead saw this expression.
"It seems the President of Borda remembers my deeds." Warmarshal Veruca laughed.
"If you say so," Warmarshal Stephanie gave a light chuckle, but relief washed over the high-strung generals. With the Guards, Soldiers, and Citizens allowing entry and even possible aid, this operation's chances of succeeding just increased.
"I find this odd... A trap must be laying for us in Dypilme." Warmarshal Achnida couldn't help but state.
"Perhaps." Joan acknowledge.
Jack's vacant expression twisted into an evil grin, that sent a chill down the spines of all the undead present, with the exception of Joan.
Jack mentally messaged back, [Haha, You're the best. You know that, right?]
To understand who Jack's mentally messaging and why the sudden faces, let us travel back to an hour ago.
*******
President Rottensong sat within his office, now alone. He had dismissed his war council and was working silently on his paperwork.
Alone within his office, outside of his door stood his two personal guards, of quite some fame. At the side of the guards, sat his secretary at her desk. Beyond her desk stood two rows of twenty soldiers. Here to guard the President's Office.
President Rottensong had dismissed everyone from his sight, as he needed his time from these fools. He felt safe enough with his guards, both of which had one foot in the King Realm. Though both guards were in the last layer of Knight rank, when both brothers worked together, it was said they have the power to stop a King-ranked Cultivator.
President Rottensong leaned back, and rubbed his eyes, as he groaned aloud, "ah well, worse come to worst I can just take my stash and flee to the people's abyss." After a moment of thought, President Rottensong laughed, "I can just up Styx and leave everyone..."
President Rottensong was supposed to be a beloved family man... Perhaps his clan showed itself to be something it wasn't...
A low whisper broke President Rottensong's waking dreamland fantasy.
"huh?" President Rottensong listened again.
A few seconds of silence stretched, as President Rottensong shrugged his shoulders. He began to pick up his quill to begin writing again before another whispering voice was heard again.
"Who in the abyss is interrupting me now?!" President Rottensong mentally messaged his secretary.
[Who's making the racket?]
[Excuse me, sir?] Secretary Scarlet mentally messaged back.
[Huh? I thought someone was calling me from outside.]
[No, sir. No one has come to see you at this time. Everything is clear here.]
[In that case, have you thought about my proposals?] President Rottensong licked his black gums as he awaited his Secretary's response.
[Sir, you're a married deadman. I just don't think I could do that.] A shy tone was conveyed, but still with some flirting... A more social person would tell that Secretary Scarlet was speaking at just the right distance to keep President Rottensong baited.
[...Agh...! I've had it, Joanne! You've been keeping up this game of yours for months and months now! I didn't want to pressure you more than I already was! Don't say I didn't try to be nice! You are going to decide right this moment to be my personal fuck toy or you can find your sorry ass in the lava sea with the rest of those that's been in your position!]
A few more seconds of silence transpired before Secretary Scarlet responded, [I understand, sir. Until true death do we part.]
A flat tone was conveyed, but a tight smile stretched across President Rottensong's face anyway, [See... That wasn't so bad. You'll see that being my mistress will benefit you far more than you know.]
President Rottensong laughed, at the thoughts of the pleasure he would be experiencing during the eve of his evening tomb. Thankfully his family knows he'll be at the Office overnight, "Working" obviously... Working that boneyard more like!
A light tune floated by President Rottensong's ear. President Rottensong looked around his office, as he stood up from his chair. He walked around his desk trying to locate the source of the strangely alluring melody.
Standing in the middle of his office, he could barely hear the voice, but straining his ears, he finally heard the contents of the beautiful poem... It was sweet and something from his childhood, so, so many years ago...
"The Boneyards are filling,
Tell me how you're feeling,
The Bone Imps are singing,
Tell me what you're seeing,
Cerebus is sleeping,
Don't fall down,
Don't fall down,
Don't fall... DOWN!"
The sharp shriek broke the illusion, and President Rottensong fell to his bottom with a thud.
His mouth gaped as floating in front of him was a free-floating apparition! Hair standing on ends, long ears, dagger-like fingers, if this wasn't a banshee, then he was alive!
"Awww... You fell down. It seems you already lost the game." Leslie smiled, as she flexed her talons.
President Rottensong scrambled backward, he searched his mind for all the information he could on banshees. He knew ghosts, but not much about the banshee. They had strange powers and odd vendettas... Or they were messengers of powerful beings... Usually seeing one would mean a trail!
Coughing slightly, President Rottensong croaked out, "Who are you and what can I do for you, my fellow undead?"
President Rottensong mentally messaged both his personal guards, but there was no response. The doors didn't bust open, and no one mentally messaged him back. It was as if his mental messages were falling into a quagmire and vanished.
Leslie floated around inspecting the president of Borda.
"Not much to see here, but I can work with this." Leslie tapped a claw on her chin.
"Haha, haha... Yes, what can I do for you? Need funding? Something else?" President Rottensong racked his decayed brain, until he thought of something, "Wait are you from the church?"
"It would be best if you showed respect... Now say what you will." Leslie smirked.
President Rottensong wilted and relaxed, "I already signed the orders for Third General Warnam to draw in the Deadtide." President Rottensong slowly got to his feet.
"Oh? How long ago was the order issued?" Leslie's eyes narrowed.
Thinking that he displeased the Church of Three Gods, President Rottensong quickly added, "As soon as I could, It must have been about an hour ago. The orders are passing through the relay stations now!" He slowly made his way to his desk and sat down.
"Ah, that's good. There is still time." Leslie nodded, as she floated across the room in front of President Rottensong.
A cold feeling filled Rottensong's stomach.
"We-well, is there anything else the Church needs?"
Leslie's bell-like laugher echoed loudly in the office, as some of the parchment paperwork on President Rottensong's desk begin to fray at the edges and the walls cracked, creaked, and groaned.
President Rottensong covered his now bleeding ears.
"Dear President Rottensong, I think you have me mistaken. I am not with the Church of Three Gods."
As the ringing subsided and looking at the black blood on his hands, President Rottensong decerned Leslie's words.
"What? Then... Then who the Devil's Abyss are you!?"
"Well, I think you might know of me if I tell you some call me the Shadow of Deagoth." Leslie smiled while biting on her clawed index finger.
President Rottensong swallowed hard. He did know who had this nickname... Why was the shadow a banshee!? A creature of Darkness in a Kingdom of Light!? How did 'it' get in?!? He had to get help... Anyone, but anyone he mentally messaged for help again felt like it fell into a black hole!
"Dear Mr. President. We are going to get to know each other well. Because my darling needs something here in Borda... And Borda has been a thorn in 'Our' side for so long... Tell me, Mr. President. What are the codes for your relay stations?" Leslie laughed again as she slid her nail across the rare black wood table, rolling up the varnish.
Again swallowing, President Rottensong finally decided to try messaging his Secretary as he went down his mental list of people to contact in case of emergency.
[Yes?] A mental message finally came back!
[Quick! Assassin! Assassin! I need my bodyguards, send everyone! I nee-]
[But President Rottensong, until true death do we part.]
[Wha-what?!] Rottensong frost at his desk watching Leslie loam over him smiling.
[By the Mistress! May the God-King forever reign!]
[Jo-Joanne?! Scarlet!? SECRETARY SCARLET!?]
"What's the matter, Mr. President? Cat run across your grave?"
President Rottensong tapped the mechanism under his desk, but the trap shoot to open and take him to his underground escape tunnel failed to activate.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk... Already fixed that. Now, Mr. President, I need those codes."
President Rottensong shuddered, "If I give you the codes, can you guarantee my unlife?"
"I guess you don't know what position you're in..."
Leslie quickly darted to the top of the room, opening her mouth, a moment of silence was shattered as the room ripped and roared. The furnishings shattered, the walls showed signs of weakness, and the floor peeled up in pieces swirling about the office as if a typhoon has suddenly manifested out of thin air.
President Rottensong's head felt as if it was going to shatter, as suddenly everything went silent. He was lifted by the gale-force winds and drug around the office. Tossed about like a rag doll.
With the torrent of pressure subsiding, Leslie gently floated next to the downed President Rottensong.
Leslie mentally messaged President Rottensong, [There are 206 bones in the skeleton... That's two of your ear bones. Let's see how many it will take before I get those codes... Afterward, I think I'll flay the broken bones from your body. You should thank me for cleaning up such a mess.]
President Rottensong desperately attempted to gather his thoughts... He needed to tell this creature quickly what it wanted to know before... before...
*******
[Jack?] Leslie mentally messaged Jack as she was staring at her handy work.
[Yes?]
[The president of Borda has decided to help with 'Our' mission to collect Death's daughter.]
[Why would he do that??? Is he surrendering?] Jack's confused tone was conveyed.
[Oh... He just went all to pieces when I spoke with him. After some simple persuasion, he was more than happy to help. Honestly, I should have done this so many years ago.] Leslie watched as the vague outline of a cadaver wiggled on top of the rare black wood desk. What appeared to be a mouth at the end of the table weakly opened and closed its toothless and tongueless maw.
If one tried hard enough, they might make out the mouthed words 'kill me.'
[What did you do exactly?]
[Oh, you're no fun, haha! I've taken care of the President, and have used his code to contact the relay stations of Borda to have the Military stand down and for the Nation to assist you.] Leslie twirled a bloody broken bone through her clawed fingers as she mentally messaged Jack.
Jack mentally messaged back, [Haha, You're the best. You know that, right?]
