
         -------------------------------------------------------------

         *  F  I  C  T  I  O  N  A  L  *  R  A  M  B  L  I  N  G  S  *

         -------------------------------------------------------------


                               Klarden The Hero
                               ----------------

                        A Simple To Read Fantasy Novel
                                  By Mr. Orb




       Written in a very short space of time, so don't expect miracles.





    With a twinge of vertigo  Klarden  looked  down from his precarious resting
place.
    The sheer wall of rock was daunting.  A  few hours ago this seemed a simple
task for him. But now sword arm bleeding  from a vicious gash almost severing a
tendon, and a large  bite  on  his  shoulder  it  was  no longer an interesting
physical challenge, it was a fight for life.
    The bandage he had improvised with  his  shirt  was filthy, soaked in thick
visceral blood and dirt. It had dried solid  an  hour ago, his arm was an agony
and the tell tale signs of blood  poisoning  were slowly radiating from the pus
ridden open wound.
    He had started on this journey several  weeks ago, fleeing from Gertis Keep
after a violent argument with  his  ex-employer  Svend  the barrel maker. Svend
wanted to teach a rival  a  few  lessons  about un-friendly competition and had
approached Klarden whom he hoped was stupid enough to take the job.
    Stupid, perhaps. Idiotic,  maybe.  But  Klarden  was  not  insane.  He knew
Evlock, and Evlock knew him.  They  both  had  the mis-shapen nose and slightly
concave forehead obtained from years of illegal brawling.
    They toasted each other  that  night  and  staggered  the  dark and violent
streets of Gertis Keep for a place to sleep.
    During the night as Klarden slept through  the excesses of ale Evlock found
Svend's shop and performed some re-constructive surgery with an axe.

    An angry Svend kicked the sleeping warrior awake.
    'Arrghhh! whose that ?'
    'Tis I, a very, very pissed off I. We had an agreement.'

    Klarden, hung over, considered  the  alternatives.  He could apologise, and
remain in this man's servitude for a  few years as compensation, He could steal
the money and pay him back. An alternative suddenly sprung to mind.
    'Give me a minute to gather my senses.'
    'Certainly' said Svend, still kicking.
    Klarden stood, and waited for his head to clear. Finally he spoke.
    'Kick me again, you shit and you'll regret it!' in a threatening tone
    'You owe me a lot of money, worthless scum'
    'NO ONE CALLS ME SCUM!' he roared.
    His fist flew through the  air  making  solid contact with Svend's stomach.
The man fell to ground, gasping for  air  and begging for mercy. Klarden gently
held the man's head.
    'When I was a child, my father showed  me  a trick to scare the shit out of
people, and make them respect you.'
    Svend, suddenly silenced, paid attention  as  Klarden's massive arms locked
themselves around his head.
    'Have you ever seen a pimple or spot burst, my friend ?' he asked.
    'Squeeze hard enough and the insides all fly out.'
    It took Svend a few moments  to  realise the implication of that statement.
He screamed, and screamed.
    'Oh, do be quiet.' He said stuffing a rag into Svend's mouth.
    'Now in a moment I'll start  squeezing.  Softly  at first. In a few minutes
you'll be hearing a slight cracking sound. Nothing to worry about. That'll just
be your skull breaking, and then  it's  spot  time. Your brains will cover that
wall'
    Klarden spoke gently and slowly, almost  soothingly. His arm tightened. The
pressure increased slowly  until  Klarden  could  feel  the  blood throbbing in
Svend's temple.
    'Of course my father told me  to  take  time, to take pleasure in releasing
another soul. My father was a very  strange  man you know, he thought that pain
was a gift from heaven. Just as pleasure tells a man that he has eaten well, or
made love to a beautiful woman pain tells  a  man that his leg is broken, or he
is ill. My father loved pain, loved to  inflict  it. 'To pass on God's gift' he
would say.'
    'But you my friend are lucky, as  I  do  not beleive in pain. I cannot kill
another man.'
    Klarden removed the man's gag, and gently pulled him to his feet.
    'You shit!, I'll have you hung for this!.' Svend screamed
    'Before you do that. I've got something to tell you.'
    'What!' yelled Svend
    'I'm a terrible liar'
    Klarden crushed the man's skull with a steel grip. Just as he promised, the
man's brain burst out of the skull leaving a huge grey mural on the back wall.
    Klarden took a few  deep  breaths  and  searched  the man's pockets. Enough
money to leave town.....


                            ----------------------
                            I'm sorry it's so gory
                             I Just got back from
                             watching Hellraiser 3

                                 ------------
                                    Mr. Orb


                            ----------------------

