Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Pain and Perspective

Nick has made numerous posts where he's mentioned, "Okay, I need to tell you guys what happened." And he never tells you.

There is a reason for this. After and during World War I, there was a vast influx of great literature and poetry as soldiers tried to comprehend the madness of what they believed to be the last Great War in history. Art was the method for many to cope with things as they happened.

After World War II, it was many years before anyone wrote about their experiences in poetry or in fiction. I'm probably wrong about this, but I remember an English professor telling me about this at one point. His theory was that there were things in World War II so terrible, that trying to describe them was impossible for the people who lived through them. At that time, anyway. Some years later, they would write about it?

This is not a great metaphor. I just can't be sure about that fact. I'm pretty sure it's true though. In any case, Nick can't tell you this story, because it would kill him to do so. So while he's occupied, I will try and tell it.

At the point where Nick last left you all, I had recently intervened on his behalf against Rogue Nemesis. And then Rogue Wizard made the foolish error of letting Usurper out.

I've said my piece on what Nick is now. And on what he became. But he wasn't some kind of legendary destroyer at this point in his career. He was a tired, lonely little man trying desperately not to die. And I very much wanted him to survive.

To segue into my own past for a moment, I want you to consider the option of being born in a hole. From day one, in this underground bunker, you are told you must fight. Battle is your purpose, war is your domain, and you will fight to the death when you are told. This was not in some third world country. This was in the American Midwest. For as long as there have been people flinging their minds into the aether for understanding, there've been Demons there to manipulate them. I had been reincarnated in this place, and my duty was clear: ensure that the coming demon invasion during the 2003-2004 period would be a complete success. All throughout this time though, I have another pressing memory. I had lost an eye you see, once long ago. And I could remember the man who took it. I knew somehow that I would see him again, and I would sometimes tell the story of the swordsman who took it to the others. I wasn't the only one who'd incarnated with this group of people, but for the most part, they were a bunch of ordinary people who wanted to grasp for power. They did not understand why I wanted to find this one person so much. But my fellows who'd remembered their past life beyond our world understood completely.

To remember the Other Side of the Veil so fully is to remember a place that feels like perfect freedom. And to relive the past with an old enemy like that...there's nothing like it. Not even sex compares. Except maybe sex you've had with someone who'd been in one of those lives. The matched euphoria of a wonderful memory in the past matched with the euphoria of the present. It's a tickling sensation of Deja Vu and wondrous pleasure that I can't really describe.

Of course, the older people who'd incarnated here would tell you that you need to get beyond such memories and live your life in the present. They're right. But no such older, wiser people were with us in that bunker built by ancient and mad survivalists who'd found the path of the demon appealing.

When I felt "Nick's" presence as his mind found our war, I had to find him. So I projected to his nearest possible location. What I found was depressing. I had lived for projection and the unearthing of ancient secrets. "Nick Dwyer" had lived for video games and dreams. I had lived for War. He had lived for silliness. Had we done battle then it would not have been even close to fulfilling. It would have been like crushing a child. I was driven by my emotion back then, not by my reason. Reason would be something I would understand later.

And thus, I have explained why I saved him when I did. It was one of the smartest decisions I've ever made, when I think back on it. It had been made for all the wrong reasons, but what can you do?

And now you're wondering: Usurper WAS who "Nick" was in his most recent lifetime. Why didn't I just attack after "Nick" let him out of his cage? I'll explain THAT after my next post.


  1. A puzzle for you

    A man dies, waiting in Texas for a man who never came
    And his lover left, dreadstruck and lost, and came to this dreaded place

    Who am I, and who is the man.

  2. This comment has been removed by the author.