-- Back in the real world --
Foo was currently inspecting the houses in the third section. It was important to do that before they started the reconstruction.
It was not that he was lost or anything... He was just taking the matter seriously. There was some logical reason for the inspection. Like... It was important.
After wandering around some more, Foo noticed that he had come close to the warrior section. It was like a line divided the two sections; on one side there was only ruins, and the other had majestic houses.
There was no wall to separate the sections. They did all belong to the same academy after all. Although the elders would love to put up a wall to hide the sight of the now rundown dump that was the third section, they did not dare as it went too much against the original philosophy of the academy.
However, there was not really any need for a wall, the residents of the other sections made sure to let the `trash` students feel that they were not welcome. As such they only went over for the public lectures and such.
To his surprise, Foo heard a faint scream of extreme agony. It sounded as if someone was put through the most horrible torture imaginable.
The sound was almost indiscernible, only someone with as good senses as Foo would be able to hear it. It was not that the source of the screams did not voice his extreme distress, but his voice was getting horse from screaming, and the place he was in seemed a bit sound isolated.
To Foo's further surprise, the sound came from a house in the third section. And that was really odd. The students from the third section should currently be in his little training session. And people from the other sections definitely did not come to such a slum like this.
As righteous as Foo was, he immediately headed for the building from where the sound originated. There was no way that he would let anyone commit heinous deeds in his section.
When he entered the house, he was even more surprised. Tied to a chair was a student that obviously was kidnapped from the warrior section. In front of him, on a table, lay a skull.
And on a chair on the other side of the table sat the old gramps. In the room was small and almost indiscernible whifts of miasma.
Puzzled by the scene in front of him, Foo then heard gramps conversation with the student, "That was truly the most beautiful woman I had ever seen! I know that I have said so twenty times or so already, but I truly felt so this time! Feeling poetic I made up some profound poetic verses. Let me recite them for you:
`Your hair is like the lush green grass on the beautiful meadow; As if tons of manure had nurtured it to the sight it is today!`
`You are like a earthworm; Giving new value to this stale world!`
And the mystery was solved. Even someone with such a high degree of tolerance as Foo was currently cringing at the old man's tales. No wonder that such despairing screams of extreme agony came from here.
And if the first few `verses` was bad, the following ones was even more so. In fact, they were so bad that even a 18+ rating would not allow them to be published. They were truly unfit for any age.
It was not that they were lewd or anything like that. But they were just so bad that it would make anyone want to pull out their ears, were they to hear them.
Each one worse than the last. And after each, the old man looked expectantly at the student, as if expecting him to praise his poetry skills.
The tone that he recited it in was in an extreme disharmony with the content of the texts. And it seemed like he thought they were flattering...
And the old man was referring to them as love poems? They were more like surekill weapons for your most hated enemy!
No, even Foo would not wish for his enemies to endure such agony! This was simply inhumane!
Unable to bear seenin the poor student tortured any further, Foo interrupted, "What are you up to?"
Startled at the interruption, the old man turned towards Foo.
"Ah, it's you! Perfect timing! You see, this skull that you entrusted me with seemed quite despondent. I was afraid that it was dying after being infected by holiness.
And as you seemed to have somewhat of an attachment to it, I thought of how to cure it. And as it is probably an undead entity, the lack of miasma was probably the problem.
Then I thought long and hard on how to supply it with more miasma. It is a topic that is forbidden, so it is not that easy to procure. You have to be especially careful of the fanatical Inquisition.
But then it struck me. Once when I had a conversation with a student of mine, and we got to the topic of the most horrible things in the world, he mentioned that my tales of my past would definitely clinch the top few spots without a doubt.
He then laughed it aways as a joke, but I could not forget about how serious he seemed when he said it. As such, I chose to test it with the help of this willing—"
"The hell with willing! LET ME GO! This man is a demon! Help!" the student cried with newfound vigor. Although it was a bad sign that the potential saviour was aquanticed with this madman, it was the only straw of hope left.
Looking around at the subtle miasma in the room, and thinking back on the tales of the old man, shuddering, Foo concluded that it was indeed correct! That must be the most horrible thing that he had ever experienced!
He had played many advanced horror games. Many that was specifically built to be as horrifying as possible. But not a single one could even come close to this!
Even the fact that a normal human could generate miasma by speaking did show the horror behind it.
Foo made a mental note to never, ever, ask anything that might make the old man think that he wanted him to speak about his past. That could go really bad!
I could hear your calls, "What happened to our beloved talking skull?"
And fret not, he is here!
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