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Match 11856 Randall Flagg vs. Pennywise


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#1 Culwych1

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Posted 04 June 2012 - 02:47 PM

Warning: This setup contains elements of graphic horror, violence and adult themes. Please only read if you are of age and ideally if you have read previous Stephen King novels. Any complaints about the maturity of content will be ignored - you have been warned.

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THE CYCLE’S END: ENTITIES OF DARKNESS
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Chapter 1: Father Corrin

Mother Mary Cathedral

Father Corrin awoke drenched in sweat, the bed sheets tossed to the floor and the remnants of the nightmare already fading from memory. The room was plunged into utter darkness and silent apart from the quick thumping of his heart. He rubbed his eyes and tried to remember the nightmare but it was like trying to grip ice and kept slipping from his mind, leaving just a casual shiver up his spine.

Wide awake now, he swung his legs over the side of his small bed and checked his clock. 7:34! Corrin jumped out of bed; he had overslept! The first Sunday morning mass began at 8:00 and the Cathedral still needed to be prepared. Fighting the rising panic, Corrin switched on the little bedside lamp and quickly washed his face and teeth at the small sink in his room. Donning his cassock, pausing only to quick smooth down his short hair he rushed out.

The Cathedral was quiet and dark. Father Corrin stopped in the hallway, waiting to hear the usual traffic outside and the hustle and bustle of the other priests inside. After a while he realised he was still standing there, waiting, when he had little time left.

Switching a light switch illuminated the rows upon rows of pews in the Cathedral. Empty rows which should have been at the centre of activity as priests made sure everything was clean and ready to receive the 100 to 200 worshipers. Where was everyone?

Stopping and listening, Father Corrin again noticed the absolute stillness of the world around him. No movement or noise, no beeping cars or screaming babies. The familiar shiver of his nightmare returned, running up his spine as his heartbeat quickened.

Exiting the main Cathedral and almost running, Corrin returned to the Priest House where he lived with 8 other priests. The first door he came to was that of Father O’Malley, the oldest of the priests. He was nearly eighty and rarely awoke before half 8. Due to his diabetes and need for rest he was excused from mass duties but still occasionally came to greet that worshipers as they were leaving.

Corrin’s knock sounded loudly in the silence, echoing through the halls of the priest house. No reply came and Corrin knocked again, his heart fluttering in his chest. Eventually he gave up and moved to the next door, that of Father Smith, a young Scot who had joined the clergy only last year. A good lad who was always eager to help, Smith was surely on his way to an early promotion to Dean.

Again no answer to the knock and this time, Corrin slowly tried the door handle. It was unlocked and the door swung easily open without a sound. The room was dark and a strong smell hit Corrin’s nostrils and made his head reel. He couldn’t place it.

He put his hand against the wall, his hand feeling around for the light switch which he flicked once found. The light flickered for a moment before illuminating the scene before him. Corrin screamed once and fell back as if pushed.

Father Smith was in the bed, his hands around a knife buried in his stomach. He had been completely gutted and his insides laid all around him, a gory mess that drooped over the side of the bed and leaked onto the floor. It was almost as if his guts were trying to escape towards the door, paused whilst crawling away from their owner.

Father Corrin threw up violently onto the stone floor, tears pouring out of his eyes as his whole body shook. He stumbled away from the grizzly sight, slipping and falling as if drunk and without thinking grasped at the next door handle he came to.

The room belonged to Father Stanley, a young man who had grown up in the city. Corrin knew that Stanley hadn’t always been the paragon of virtue he was now and that it was in fact this troubled past that had driven Stanley into the arms of the Lord.

Corrin tried speaking when he flung Stanley’s door open but the words refused to come out. He froze at the sight before him. He had no need to switch the light on to see the carnage and blood (he recognized that strong smell now) that lay on the floor. The mirror above the sink in the small room had been broken and Father Stanley had used a large shard to cut himself - cut his face, cut his arms, cut his legs and ultimately cut his wrists.

Corrin had never seen so much blood in all his life. It was splattered around the room as if done by some insane decorator; and the mangled body on the floor was covered and surrounded by it.
There was nothing left for Corrin to throw up, and shuddering and heaving, he stumbled back to his own room.

Corrin threw himself onto his bed, crying and shivering and he felt like his mind had been ripped out and stamped on. It was about an hour before Corrin managed to stop shaking and even then, it was only so he could grasp the bible that was always at his bedside closely to his chest. He opened it at random, needed the familiar verses to calm his mind and spirit and read out loud. His voice sounded dreadful in the overpowering silence but he managed to keep it even and steady as he read from Peter:

“whoever speaks, as one who speaks oracles of God; whoever serves, as one who serves by the strength that God supplies—in order that in everything God may be glorified through Jesus Christ. To him belong glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.”

Feeling only marginally better, Corrin eventually left his room to face the grizzly death that had visited the Priest House.

Fear gripped his very soul.... and he thought he felt something peering at him from every corner, tasting that very fear and enjoying it.

Posted Image
Where was everyone? Asked Father Corrin

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Chapter 2: Susan Taylor

Susan was running. Her heart felt like it would burst and she could barely draw another breath but she carried on, her terror and pain keeping her going. She didn’t know where she was running to but knew that running would take her further away from what she had seen. Even if the terrible images kept echoing through her mind, playing themselves over and over again like a skipping CD, at least she would be far away from there.

Susan Taylor, born Susan Francis, was 22 years old and fit for her age. Regular morning runs and trips to the gym had kept the baby weight off her and she turned many a head when she was out. She had married young, to Toby Taylor (known to friends simply as T-man), her childhood sweetheart and everyone had expected as much. To look upon those two was to look upon true love. Kindred spirits they were from birth and nothing would ever have stood between them.

A year almost to the day after their wedding, Susan had announced she was pregnant and everyone had been over the moon. Despite being only 24, T-man was a gifted architect and had impressed some very important people with his designs. The money had come readily but they had been careful with it, putting it aside for the right occasions and avoiding the luxurious lifestyle that they could have easily afforded.

They were happy, and when Anthony Taylor (Young T) came along, Susan and T-man had both cried with joy. Her dad had taken T-man aside and they had shared a huge cigar outside the hospital despite the annoyed looks from the nurses.

Life was good.

Susan stumbled as she ran and fell to one knee. She was drained and simply stayed on her knees, alternating between crying and gasping for breath.

Life had been good, until 6 that morning when she had been getting ready for her morning run.

Dressed in her jogging shorts and tank top, she had quickly brushed her teeth and tied her hair back before going into the living room. She had assumed that T-man and Young T would be in the kitchen going through their usual feeding ritual involving the metaphorical airplane landing at the airport. Young T was still young enough to enjoy the ritual, even if his laughter subsided with certain foods he had grown to dislike.

Instead of being in the kitchen, T-man was in the living room, hunched in the corner.

“What you doing honey?” she asked to which she got no response.

Sensing something was wrong; Susan stopped and looked at the kneeling figure, suddenly alarmed by the lack of motion. With three long strides she was by her husband’s side and gently touched his arm, still looking at the back of his still head.

With a gasp she took her hand away, a scream rising to her lips but unable to escape. She couldn’t understand what she was looking at, just didn’t comprehend the reality of what she could see before her eyes. There were pills scattered all over the floor.

It looked like (but surely couldn’t be) T-man was kneeling over the still body of his son but that Young T, normally so full of bubbly life and enthusiasm, was turned away. No, that wasn’t right. Young T’s body was facing up, but so was the back of his head.

Susan frowned, her brain still refusing to understand what she was seeing. It must be a wig or a trick of the light. Her husband’s big strong hand was around her boy’s neck, twisting it at such an impossible angle and she wanted to tell her husband to stop in case he hurt the child… but again, words refused to surface.

Her gaze followed the arm up and to her horror she saw blood and mucus dripping out of her husband’s mouth and nose. Suddenly her instinct took over and her hand grasped her husband’s broad shoulder.

He toppled backwards, falling flat on the floor and his dead, uncaring eyes were staring straight at her. His hand finally released her son’s neck and the boy fell away, rolling on the floor. When he stopped he was lying on his stomach and she could see the blue-ish tinge of his skin and the way he flopped limply.

Although he was on his stomach, his face was turned completely around at a 180 degree angle and frozen in a horrific rictus of agony. His dead eyes were also open and seemed to stare straight at her.

Something in Susan’s mind snapped at the sight of her husband and son staring at her with those dead eyes and she simply ran….

And kept running.

When she finally stopped she was alone in the park. She had felt the presence of other people as she fled her apartment block, had even seen some horrid sights of mutilated bodies but her mind had completely shut down in self-defence.

She just couldn’t believe the complete madness she had faced and once again, she doubled over in agony.

Her husband was dead.

Her son was dead.

Hang on… this must be a dream she thought desperately to herself. This must just be a terrible nightmare and I’m going to wake up any moment and everything will be back to normal. T-man will be feeding Tony and I’ll go for my morning jog. I may even suggest we all go to Pizza Hut this afternoon as a treat.

But it doesn’t feel like a dream. Susan scratched her head, wondering for a moment why she wasn’t waking up.

Suddenly there was a rustling in the bushes.

She whirled around, peering into the foliage but unable to penetrate the thick leaves and branches and discover what was concealed in the darkness beyond.

“Who’s there?” she asked and instantly felt stupid. It was probably just a fox or squirrel and she was waiting for an answer.

She turned away, once again lost in thought about what she had seen back in the apartment. She was so lost in the horror of what had happened that she failed to notice the shadow rise up from the bushes and silently creep towards her.

The first thing she noticed was the smell; it was a pungent smell of rot and decay mixed with the fumes of old alcohol on turgid breath. Even as she whirled around she was grabbed from behind, a big strong hand grasped her wrist and twisted it behind her back, the other came around her neck in a strangle hold.

The putrid breath was right by her ear and she almost heaved at the smell. Her assailant was huge, taller than her by almost a head and a half and she could feel the scratching of a thick beard against the back of her head.

“Hello love… I’m Harry” whispered a deep gruff voice and her arm was dragged further back up her back, making her squeal in agony.

“Please…” she managed to groan and then stopped as she felt something hard sticking into her lower back.

“Oh yeah…” growled the sick voice behind her, “say please again.” The big hand around her neck travelled lower and roughly squeezed her right breast.

“Please don’t hurt me” squealed Susan, tears streaming down her face.

“No promises darling”, the hand squeezed and pinched and she cried out in agony.

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Susan cried and gasped for breath

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Chapter 3: Harry Stephenson

Harry rubbed his hands together and felt the handcuffs digging in tightly. The cops in the front of the car were ignoring his insults but he kept it up nonetheless. There was something magical about being able to call people every name under the sun and them not be able to do anything about it. Sure they could rough him up a bit and they were already going to throw him in jail for what he had done, but it was good knowing that that was pretty much it.

He was going to jail, no doubts about that. But he had been there before and it wasn’t such a big deal. Take the biggest, baddest mofo out and you were top dog, and Harry was a big mofo indeed. When he was just a kid, the other kids had given him the nickname Andre, after Andre the Giant and it was a name he had liked.

Yup, he was gonna go to jail and he didn’t give a damn. It was only a pity that Ralph Molinelli was going to get away with it - Harry would have loved to have him under his fists for just five minutes - that mafia scumbag owed him 5 big ones and was probably half way back to Italy by now. He’d stay there if he knew what was good for him.

The robbery was meant to be like any other; a jewellery store run by a family, far enough from a pig station that if someone tripped the alarm they would hopefully still be quick enough to get away. Only problem was that the family lived upstairs so any noise downstairs would undoubtedly attract unwanted attention.

Surprisingly Ralph had come up with such a simple plan it was brilliant; hit the house upstairs first, lock the family up and then hit the shop downstairs right under their noses. It had to be a quick and slick operation that meant they were in and out in an hour max. Twenty minutes to get the family secured, ten minutes to get all the security codes and keys required and half an hour to hit the shop.

Unfortunately things hadn’t gone quite to plan, primarily down to Ralph being a chicken shit Italian scumbag.

Harry and Ralph had hit the upstairs flat as planned, busting in during the family dinner and getting everyone’s hands where they could see them in an instant. Only thing they didn’t plan for was the owner’s cute niece having come to stay and Harry wasn’t going to pass up and opportunity like this one. She had that vulnerable, trusting and innocent look that he loved.

So he clocked the uncle a good one that had him pissing blood out of his nose and grabbed the girl, telling Ralph to handle the family for 10 minutes while he took care of business.

And that’s when things started going wrong. Ralph had whipped up a gun, saying he couldn’t allow Harry to do that, that this was a robbery and that was all.

Little shit.

Well Harry wasn’t about to let this little one escape his grasp so he brings up his gun and tells Ralph to grow a pair. It must have been during the standoff that uncle triggers a silent alarm and then decides to be heroic.

He whips up a gun from behind the table and suddenly it’s a Mexican standoff with three guns waiting to decide the outcome of the evening. Except one problem, both Ralph and the uncle’s guns are pointing straight at Harry.

With a quick pull, Harry brings the girl around in front of him with one hand around his neck. She’s not much protection as Harry is about twice her size but everyone can see that a simple twist of his hand would break the girl’s neck with little effort.

She’s screaming and twisting and Harry grins at his two opponents.

“I’ll give you to three before I break her neck. One…”

“Please don’t do this” shouts the uncle.

“Two….”

The uncle lowers his gun when he sees Harry’s hand tighten on his niece’s neck.

Harry stares straight at Ralph, who quickly drops his gun on the floor as well.

“Kick them both over here” says Harry and they comply. Harry smiles, then lightning quick he moves forward and punches Ralph hard in the face. Ralph drops and Harry kicks him hard in the stomach, sending him flying through the air with at least one cracked rib. Ralph moans and crawls away.

Harry turns to the uncle and backhands him to the floor. He then proceeds to stomp on his head repeatedly, turning it into a mash of brains and blood. The niece is screaming on the floor and continues screaming as Harry grabs her.

Ten minutes later the cops turn up, breaking down the front door to find Harry holding the struggling niece over the bloody corpse of her uncle whilst he has his way with her. Her screams had drowned out the sounds of the sirens and Ralph is nowhere to be seen.

Scumbag must have crawled away while I was having fun, thought Harry.

And so Harry finds himself in the back of the cop car and wonders what his next meal will be - that little struggling vixen had him work up quite an appetite.

Suddenly the car slams to a stop, the breaks squealing. Around him other cars are doing the same.
The cop on the right pulls out his gun and puts it to his head. Without any hesitation he blows his brains all over the window. The other cop gets out of the car and Harry cringes down, wondering what the hell is going on.

The other cop simply runs into a wall as fast as he can, with his head down. With a sickening crack it splits open and Harry can see brains leaking out.

Second brain I’ve seen today he thinks briefly before watching the other people in other cars. They are all killing themselves, some quickly, others more creatively. One man starts climbing a lamppost with a rope in his hand, another has knelt next to the passenger seat of a car and in slamming his head repeatedly with the car door. A woman has crashed through a window and started cutting herself with the shards of glass whilst a man has emerged from a shop with a table leg which he is working into his stomach.

All of them have this look of complete horror on their faces at what they are doing.

Harry picks the keys to his handcuff off one of the dead cops and runs from the scene.
He ends up in the park and promptly falls asleep. He awoke when a young woman comes running by, crying and sobbing and breathing heavy. For all Harry knows she’s the only person in New York that hasn’t killed herself yet - and she’s a mighty fine looking specimen.

Harry smiles and then creeps towards her. She’s in a world of his own and doesn’t notice him until he grabs her.

His smile turns into a grin as he whispers into her ear:

“Hello love… I’m Harry”.

He then proceeds to feel her up, grabbing and squeezing and enjoying her cries for mercy and pity.

He’s about to unzip himself when suddenly there’s a shout behind him and something hard hit him on the back of his head. Harry dropped to his knees and let go of the girl. The blow would undoubtedly killed a weaker man but Harry growls and starts getting back up to his feet. He sees a young man dragging his prey away - and what the hell - the man seems to be wearing a priest outfit.

Harry’s groggy and quickly loses the couple from sight so he sits down hard and gently touches the back of his head. Looking back he sees there’s blood on the massive rock the priest used on him.
Damn that little shit, Harry thinks. I’ll give him hell when I see him. Make him watch while I do that woman and then tear his head right off his shoulders.

Harry leans back and closes his eyes… and in his dreams sees a face smiling at him.

“You’ve done well my son, come back to the city, we have work to do” says a deep voice, filled with terrible promises and awful redemption.

Harry nods and smiles back.

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The man smiled and said “come back to the city, we have work to do”.
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Chapter 4: Fear

Father Corrin and Susan Taylor ran through the park, ignoring the branches that cut at them and the rocks that threatened their footing.

“Faster” whispered Corrin, edging the young woman onwards and she gladly obliged, her mind still reeling from everything that had happened already.

They soon reached the edge of the park and Corrin beckoned her towards a car.

“Quickly, I think I hear him behind us” said Corrin, holding the door open for her.

At first Susan hesitated, already uneasy from her experiences of the day but then obliged, putting her faith in the priestly robes and the kind face that had saved her from a terrible fate.

They drove off and the priest swerved to avoid cars and bodies sitting in the streets.

“What the f*** is going on!” screamed Susan.

“I don’t know” replied the priest softly. “I woke up today and my whole clergy is dead, my worshipers are dead too. Everyone just killed themselves. Some of them on their way to mass.”

“My husband…” Susan couldn’t finish.

“I understand” said Father Corrin. “I tried calling my family as well with no answer. “

“This is a nightmare, it must be. My husband didn’t kill my baby, that just wouldn’t happen.”

Father Corrin looked at her with compassion in his eyes and then sped up.

“I’m afraid that this may just be the beginning.”

“What? How could this possibly get worse?” Susan was almost screaming again, her voice high pitched and approaching hysteria.

“I think that someone is coming”

“Coming? Someone? What are you talking about?”

“They call him the Dark Man but he also goes by the name Randall Flagg, and he will unite all of the evil in this world and destroy it all. That is his only purpose in life, to “uncreate” the whole world.”

“You’re crazy, let me out of this car right now.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that” said the priest sadly, he then whipped his hand round hard and punched Susan in the side of the head. Her head whipped sideways and hit the side of the car hard; darkness engulfed her vision and she passed out.

He drove on.

When Susan awoke, the first thing she thought when opening her eyes was that it was night time. But then a closer inspection revealed that she was in a cave of some description, with the only light coming off some lamps held in brackets around the cave wall.

She tried raising an arm and her heart fluttered when she realised she was tied down. She struggled for a moment but quickly realised that the bonds holding her done were much too strong.

“Help!” she screamed. “Heeeeeelp” her voice turned into a long wail of frustration and agony, a woman pushed to the edge of reason and sanity.

“This won’t take long Susan”, the voice was familiar. The Priest! That was it.

“Please, I don’t know what I’ve done but please let me go, I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“You don’t understand do you” said the Priest’s voice and, twisting her head, she could see him standing in the corner of the cave. And he wasn’t alone. A throng of people circled her, dark figures with the same look of fear in their eyes as they watched her struggle. “There is no one else but us.”

“Us,” he paused, “and It.”

Suddenly she felt a movement round her foot and her mind cast back to an old fear that had haunted her through childhood and into her grown up years. Her father had once taken her to the zoo and she had managed to escape his protective grasp and run into the reptile house.

There, amidst the dark and damp she had gotten completely lost and suddenly found herself face to face with a huge lizard sitting on a long tree stump. It has just stared at her and she had been completely frozen in its gaze. Her body had simply refused to respond to her brain and, looking into those cold reptile eyes, she had seen the horrors that it could visit upon her. She imagined how its slimy yet cold scales would feel against her skin, imagined those long talons digging into her flesh, that forked tongue flickering against her neck and most frightful of all were those eyes… those terrible cold, inhuman eyes that held the young girl in place. It was as if it could reach into her mind and read her innermost thoughts….

Susan felt something brush up against her foot as the other people in the room suddenly closed their eyes.

“It is here!” exclaimed the priest.

She felt an awful wet and scaly skin press against her ankle, then slowly climb up to her knee. A cold hand touched her sides, dragging a large body up against her legs.

Tears flowed down Susan’s cheeks and she couldn’t breathe as the fear clutched her heart.
She heard a hiss and felt a tongue against her bare stomach…

Slowly, ever so slowly, Susan found the strength within herself to bring her head up… and then she screamed like she had never screamed before.

Upon seeing the terrible eyes that gazed into her soul, what little remained of Susan’s fragile sanity broke and crumbled.

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Susan remembered those terrible cold, inhuman eyes that held her in place.
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Chapter 5: Harry Stephenson

Harry travelled into the city the day after the incident in the park and was met by likeminded souls. They partied hard that whole day, repeatedly enjoying the twenty women they had captured. The men they had captured didn’t last the day as some were crucified and some were tortured for fun.

Randall Flagg had given them this day to do what they wished but tomorrow would mean they had to work to ensure that they were ready.

Ready for what Randall hadn’t said and Harry wasn’t about to ask.
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Chapter 6: Father Corrin

Father Corrin carried the limp body of Susan Taylor back out of the cave. Her death had been swift, a massive heart attack which had fed It well. It had been feeding constantly for the last day, given substance by the followers that brought it sustenance from the scared humans that travelled alone.

It had been weakened before but the meddlesome humans performing the Ritual of Chüd; they hadn’t realised how powerful they were once they grasped their full potential… but they certainly weren’t powerful enough to destroy someone like It.

They had simply made It weak, but the 27 year sleep had seen it revive into a world of pure fear and that fear had given it a strength like never before.

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Chapter 7: Harry Stephenson

Harry woke up refreshed and feeling great. There was a woman in the bed next to him, still asleep. Her face bloody and a large bruise stretched from her chin to her right ear. Serves her right for crying so loudly, thought Harry.

He thought about waking her up and having another go but looking at his watch he realised he had little time. Randall was excepting him in ten minutes.

Throwing some clothes on some water in his face, Harry left the room in a hurry.

Randall was waiting for him in an old casino that had been turned into a base of operations. In the centre of the room, between some poker tables and a huge roulette wheel, on an actual throne sat the Dark Man. He was an attractive man, with an easy smile that nonetheless set Harry’s teeth on edge. It was the smile of a predator, full of wise humour but with teeth as dangerous as a shark.

“Harry, glad you could make it. How’s the woman?” asked Randall, standing up to greet his second in command.

“Which one?” asked Harry grinning.

Randall laughed and clasped the man on his shoulders. Despite towering over Randall, Harry still felt smaller than the man.

“Are you sure that all the preparations are underway?”

“Yes sir” replied Harry. “The troops are getting ready to move and we’ve got people scoping out both of the other camps. We’re expecting a report back on both today.”

“Excellent Harry, you’ve done some excellent work.”

Harry almost felt himself blushing with pride. The two camps in question were both about the same size as Randall Flagg’s; one in the East and one to the North.

The Eastern camp was composed of mainly stragglers who had grouped together around an old woman. Harry was convinced that they were not of any concern despite what Randall seemed to think, not like the one to the North.

The Northern camp was a mystery, with around the same number of people and seeming to worship some deity which lived among them. Any spies that they had sent into their camp had been killed horribly - dragged into a mysterious cave alive and emerging dead or in a seemingly zombie-like state. This was the one that Harry was worried about as their military power seemed to match that of Randall’s band.

“Well thank you sir, it’s an honour” said Harry.

“Good good. Well, I will let you get on with things. But step things up, we need to be ready to move soon.”

Randall grinned again and Harry grinned back, only his eyes betraying the fear he felt.

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“You’ve done some excellent work” said Randall.
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Chapter 8: Father Corrin

Father Corrin knelt before the alter and scrubbed at the blood that was there. The camp preparations were well underway, with his direction stepping things up a gear, ready for whatever waited for them in the South.

It had not given him much information but in dreams he would see the Enemy and know that he was an enemy of his Master.

Suddenly a noise had him twirling around and he was faced with his fear…

His mother stood before him, her eyes running pure red with blood. She grabbed him and he screamed but then slowly her face changed, melted away to be replaced by that of one much more familiar.

Jesus stood before him and put a calming hand on his shoulder.

“You shouldn’t be so scared all the time Father, it’s not good for the heart.” It laughed in its new guise.

“I’m sorry Master, I was just about to make some final preparations for the war to come.”

“Excellent Father, we need to be moving soon. I sense him in the South and am eager to meet him at long last.

“Yes Master.” And then Corrin plucked up the courage to ask “May I ask who he is Master?”

The figure of Jesus stared at him suddenly started bleeding all over. Father Corrin stared upon the bloody figure and wept.

“He’s the Dark Man, the Walkin’ Dude and just as I feed on fear, so does he breed evil. But he is just a plaything before my might and soon he will know the true meaning of fear. The Man in Black is going to be a meal on my plate. And you and my flock will be the instrument that finally destroys this pathetic mortal and the world will be my playground.”

Corrin has shrunk back before the monster’s wrath and now he straightened up.

“Yes Master, I will go and ensure the troops are ready for war.

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Father Corrin stared upon the bloody figure of Jesus and wept
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Chapter 9: The War

And so the war started brewing, soldiers following beings of unspeakable fear and evil. Gathered in the desolate post-Apocalyptic world a handful of survivors struggle to survive, unaware of the armies that prepare for bloodshed.

The forces of Randall Flagg gather together in the South, bringing more and more evil souls to them and turning their city into a nightmarish vision of torture, violence and humiliation.

In the North, the forces of It feed innocent souls to their terrible god, giving him more and more strength through fear. Their culture of destruction and savagery rivals that of Flagg.

The two forced know of each other and prepare for a war that will only see one survive and true evil unleashed upon the ravaged lands.

God help the innocents, for they haven’t a hope in the darkness about to be released.

Or do they?

To be continued…

#2 Callisto

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Posted 04 June 2012 - 02:47 PM

Learn More About
Randall Flagg
Read more about Randall Flagg at Wikipedia
Official Site: Stephen King Links: Wikipedia Randall Flagg's Homepage The Dark Tower .net

Pennywise
Read more about Pennywise at Wikipedia
Official Site: Warner Bros Links: It Wikipedia page It imdb page It movie review



#3 Culwych1

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Posted 04 June 2012 - 03:20 PM

This story it my little tribute to the excellent Stephen King. Taking the character Randall Flagg and storyline from one of my top 5 books of all time; the Stand and mixing in a bit of reimagined Pennywise from It. The idea came purely from reading the Stand and wondering what would happen if Pennywise had encountered Randall Flagg in the post Apocalypse world that the book is set in (which I’ve modified).

Coincidentally, 2012 is the approximate expected return of Pennywise if indeed it hadn’t been killed in It (if using the 27 year cycle and ending the book in 1985). I always liked the book, but felt that there could have been more to it. The ending just didn’t sit quite right so… Pennywise is back, and this time he’s got worshippers!

The Apocalypse through suicide idea came from the movie The Happening which is the perfect example of a good idea which was terribly executed.

Anyway, quick summary is the forces of Randall Flagg versus It who is being treated as some type of god and brought innocents to “eat” through fear. Both “camps” have a small army of comparable strength and numbers (say 1000 each) and are aware of the other’s existence.

Who wins? You decide.

Enjoy and all comments (including criticism) are welcome.

#4 The Seeker of Stuff

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Posted 04 June 2012 - 03:59 PM

That. Was . AWESOME!

#5 LoneWolf

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Posted 04 June 2012 - 04:12 PM

Wow, this is probably one of the best matches I have seen.

One shape shifting being that feeds on fear VS what seems to be a human, or mostly human bein gthat causes chaos and evil around it. I will have to go with Pennywise. I think fear is a stronger motivator than the desire to do evil, which is basically an urge to act out on a desire such as rage, lust, greed etc... Fear trumps that in my opinion, since it is something that is much harder to control than a base urge.

Only thing I might add is that, while I know the story is still in progress, it seems like there was no justice/closure to be found. I know that isn't always necessary, and in real life such a thing does not exist, but it just brings something to the story somehow when all loose ends are wrapped up in a fitting way. Maybe I have watched too many VanDamme movies as a child, but I want to see a despicable creature meet a fitting end, even if the heroes doesn't win, or dies in the process (yes, I realize there are no heroes in this setting).

#6 Culwych1

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Posted 04 June 2012 - 04:58 PM

@ The Seeker of Stuff - Wow, thanks!

@ LoneWolf - Thanks as well! I agree, there is a lack of heroic struggles in this. I was hoping to accentuate the bleak aspect of King's work. In the Stand there is a whole section of the book that simply deals with people dying in the wake of the plague through natural means. Just that... chapter after chapter of how people died, no hope or redemption possible. Even as you are getting to know the characters, the fact that they are going to die is always looming in the background. One of the most poignant parts of the book I felt, and I wanted to bring that sentiment to this story. Hopefully in the future, if this story does progress then I'll be brining in the group of survivors and a heroic focus for the story. Hopefully some closure and hope will be found after this battle of evil.

#7 Guest_Redemption X_*

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Posted 04 June 2012 - 06:09 PM

Do you really need the disclaimer at the beginning? The average CBUBer worships the ground that Rob Liefeld walks on, supports everything Michael Bay does, and hasn't met a gore-porn movie he didn't like. I think the people here can handle your little Stephen King tribute.

Hell, in "End of Universe Beta", I had several beloved superheroes exploding in fountains of gore, and nobody batted an eye.

#8 Hayesmeister5651

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Posted 04 June 2012 - 06:12 PM

Do you really need the disclaimer at the beginning? The average CBUBer worships the ground that Rob Liefeld walks on, supports everything Michael Bay does, and hasn't met a gore-porn movie he didn't like. I think the people here can handle your little Stephen King tribute.

Hell, in "End of Universe Beta", I had several beloved superheroes exploding in fountains of gore, and nobody batted an eye.

Worship Liefeld? Are you joking, I have not seen one person this site worship him or Michael Bay. You love talkign out your ass don't you?

#9 Guest_Redemption X_*

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Posted 04 June 2012 - 06:19 PM

I'm sorry, but if anyone holds the monopoly on "talking out of your ass", it's you, Hayes. I have yet to see you reply to any of my posts in a civil, intelligent fashion. In fact, you like to post on my matches specifically to post useless troll comments, instead of useful comments on who would win and how is my writing.

So, I hold no weight on ANYTHING you say to me.

However, in case anyone with actual brains repeats the same question, I refer you to LoneWolf, who has admitted to loving pretty much of of Liefeld's famous works (seriously, just look at his sig), as well as the fact that every single Rob Liefeld character AND most of Michael Bay's characters are in the database.

#10 LoneWolf

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Posted 04 June 2012 - 08:15 PM

I'm sorry, but if anyone holds the monopoly on "talking out of your ass", it's you, Hayes. I have yet to see you reply to any of my posts in a civil, intelligent fashion. In fact, you like to post on my matches specifically to post useless troll comments, instead of useful comments on who would win and how is my writing.

So, I hold no weight on ANYTHING you say to me.

However, in case anyone with actual brains repeats the same question, I refer you to LoneWolf, who has admitted to loving pretty much of of Liefeld's famous works (seriously, just look at his sig), as well as the fact that every single Rob Liefeld character AND most of Michael Bay's characters are in the database.



You do not understand the style of artwork that was popular at the time, peak really, of my interest in comics. I am not a Michael Bay fan either, really your entire argument doesn't apply to me, in the sense that you assume I am some sort of Beavis and Butthead, 90's reject adrenaline junkie (I assume that's what you are pointing toward me being).

I would like to add that hating Liefeld is really just a fad. No one really hates him, they just say they do becuase that's was 'In' to do right now. Image was a company of artists, without a great deal of writing talent. Still, they accomplished a lot. Their break off from Marvel was a monumental event in the world of comics.

I could easily join in with others on this site in bashing you, but I think you are funny. You are very out of touch with reality in a strange way that I haven't seen often (or at all).

Do you not realize that some of the things I say are for shock or comedic purposes: Like "Cable and Deadpool were awesome!" This is part nostalgia talking, part tongue in cheek glorification of the exagerated 'Extreme' style of comics in that period and well... honestly, a solid portion of truth, I honestly don't care what the current majoritys opinions are, Comic are NOT what they used to be. Same every other entertainemtn media, music, book etc.. I think they are all in decline, that's why I relish reliving the past so much. Show me something current that holds up and YES I will read it.

#11 sirmethos

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Posted 04 June 2012 - 08:36 PM

Do you really need the disclaimer at the beginning? The average CBUBer worships the ground that Rob Liefeld walks on, supports everything Michael Bay does, and hasn't met a gore-porn movie he didn't like. I think the people here can handle your little Stephen King tribute.

Hell, in "End of Universe Beta", I had several beloved superheroes exploding in fountains of gore, and nobody batted an eye.


-sigh-

Again with the flag waving?

That said, absolutely brilliant setup.

As for who wins... I'm actually not sure, Pennywise is a primordial evil that feeds on fear, while Flagg, depending on which version of him we're talking about, is either a human being(Dark Tower), or the personification of evil(The Stand).

#12 bigballerju

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Posted 04 June 2012 - 09:52 PM

Ladies and Gentleman this is a real CBUB setup. Excellent story that I enjoyed. It seems like some of CBUB's past great writers are coming back which is good it will shown some newcomers why there encouraged to take there time on setups to do great ones like this.

Its hard to decide. But after some thought Pennywise may end up losing the war because Flagg's spread of evil and chaos would end up being a problem for the It army to take in innocent souls to consume to become more powerful. Not only that if Flagg converts more people to his evil and chaos then Pennywise won't have any fear to feed off.

#13 Guest_Redemption X_*

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Posted 05 June 2012 - 02:39 AM

When LoneWolf turns out to be the mature sensible one replying in an intelligent and polite fashion, and Sirmethos is the arrogant douche replying in a rude fashion by repeating cliched insults, you know things are backwards.

Sirmethos, if you have any real, elaborate argument against my posts, then say it. Until then, please stop repeating "flag waving" like a broken record. Again, you guys need to take lesson in "replying to posts that I find stupid for some reason" from the TGWTG forum.

No wonder Movie Brat jumped ship back to the TGWTG forums. There, he can be with actually smart people for once. legato and CapitalRadioTwo would verbally eat you guys for breakfast. Hell, even Gurning Chimp could give you all the verbal beating of your lifetime.

#14 sirmethos

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Posted 05 June 2012 - 04:41 AM

When LoneWolf turns out to be the mature sensible one replying in an intelligent and polite fashion, and Sirmethos is the arrogant douche replying in a rude fashion by repeating cliched insults, you know things are backwards.

Sirmethos, if you have any real, elaborate argument against my posts, then say it. Until then, please stop repeating "flag waving" like a broken record. Again, you guys need to take lesson in "replying to posts that I find stupid for some reason" from the TGWTG forum.

No wonder Movie Brat jumped ship back to the TGWTG forums. There, he can be with actually smart people for once. legato and CapitalRadioTwo would verbally eat you guys for breakfast. Hell, even Gurning Chimp could give you all the verbal beating of your lifetime.



I'll refer you to this:


Do you always have to point out my mistakes in the same smug, condescending fashion? Would it kill you to be polite for once?


Once you stop acting like an idiot, time and time again, waving your ignorance around like a friggin' flag. Then I'll start being polite.

I'm relatively polite most of the time, but idiocy and ignorance annoys me, especially repeat performances.

If needs be, I'll make a quote gallery to show you, and everyone else, exactly what I'm talking about.

To repeat what I've told a ton of people: "If you don't like being treated like an idiot, then don't act like one. It's really not that difficult."


I have to agree Methos that was a little bit uncalled for. I think he might have been joking around too.


As often as he proves himself to be as ignorant as I'm calling him, no, that was definitely not uncalled for.

The first 10, 20, maybe 50 times, I was relatively nice in pointing out his mistakes. That obviously didn't work. Now, I'm going to bash him over the head with it until it works.

Again: "If you don't like being treated like an idiot, then don't act like one. It's really not that difficult."

As for joking around:
1. Smiley's and various emoticons exist for the purpose of indicating things like that. There was nothing in his post to indicate that he was joking.
2. His post voiced exactly the same opinions and idiocy that a large part of his other posts have shown, thus indicating that he was being serious.


If needs be, the offer of making a quote gallery, to show you(and everyone else) exactly what I'm talking about, is still open

#15 ThePhenomenalOne

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Posted 05 June 2012 - 06:57 AM

Outstanding set up sir. I don't know enough about the characters to say who would win though.

Redemption X. I hate you. Go back to Thatguywearingsunglasses board. You suck here. You were a multi accounter and didn't you basically stalk Movie Brat before or something? You write an awful lot about young female characters and sometimes you get sexy with it, You're a huge creeper who doesn't get respect from anyone here because of your high doucher levels. Your input on other people's stuff is just terrible and you take criticism about as good as Anu. Please leave. I don't think I've ever had so much disdain for someone over the internet. I'll leave you with a classic quote. Grow up Peter Pan.

#16 JohnnyChany

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Posted 07 June 2012 - 05:21 PM

Exceptional work, Culwych. I know about Pennywise, but I am in the dark about Randall Flagg. I will need to research a little before voting.

#17 DSkillz

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Posted 08 June 2012 - 09:05 PM

Okay, now that I've finally had the time to read this match through, all I've got to say is... wow... This is one of the best set-ups I've ever read at EF! The tones of bleak despair and horror were gruesomely set just about perfectly. A few grammar mistakes, as well as some weird tense switching in Chapter 3, some mistakes are almost to be expected in a longer set-up. Well-deserved of being placed in the Outstanding Fight Set-Ups thread (and about time someone remembered that thread could be for more than just Monthly Challenge winners).

Great, great job, Culwych!

As for the match, I already knew a fair amount about Pennywise, but I just had to look up Flagg a bit. I think I'll agree with baller's assessment here. Both are powerful entities, but Pennywise seems to rely on the sacrifices of innocents. As Flagg corrupts more souls, Pennywise may start to weaken. I think I'll give this one to Randall Flagg, but it won't be an easy war.

A well-deserved "A" from me!

#18 Callisto

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Posted 09 June 2012 - 03:15 PM

Match Final Results
USER RATINGS
A
A One of the best set-up I've ever read here!
A Amazing.
A
A Excellent story and I love this arc. Keep it up.
A Amazing set-up. This one was truly above the vast majority of set ups I have seen. Excellent work!
A
SCORE
Randall Flagg: 16
Pennywise: 36
FPA: 4.0


#19 Redemption X

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Posted 09 June 2012 - 05:31 PM

Yeaaaaaaah...turns out I was remembering the TGWTG forum with rose-colored glasses. I'd rather stay here.

By the way: yes, Movie Brat, I'm agustinaldo, and I'm naming you. And I'm gonna keep naming you: Movie Brat, Movie Brat, Movie Brat banana-fanna-fo Movie Brat. What are you gonna do about it? You can't go crying to legato or GoofyHairOzzie HERE.

#20 treacherous

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Posted 09 June 2012 - 07:02 PM

I highly suggest that the flaming stops.




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