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Falling Back to Where He Started From
by Redo from Start As Vigil plunged toward the ground, he felt the wind overcome his lifeless body. The back of his head demanded his attention in the spot where the club had impacted. When he regained his senses, which was several seconds later, the pressing matter switched from the pain on his head, to the rapidly approaching jagged rocks below. He checked his backpack and found nothing. The thieves must have taken all his possessions! Feeling slightly irked, he pitched the pack. The ground was still a few hundred feet away, so he crossed his arms, and waited for impact. Vigil awoke in the familiar surroundings of the temple of infinite lives. He looked down and confirmed that he had been stripped of every possession except for half of his gold coins by the magic that had brought him here. This left Vigil severely depleted of funds. The priest, a little old guy whose features were perpetually shrouded behind a beard and large hat, helped Vigil to his feet. "It has been some time since I saw you last." said the priest. "Two weeks," replied Vigil, "I took some time off." "Vigilance is the key to survival." said the priest. "Can't you think of anything else to say?" Vigil asked, waiting for the standard response. "Look both ways before crossing the street." said the priest, waving Vigil away. Vigil sighed and walked to the doors of the temple. The priest had repeated the same three lines to Vigil, and as far as he knew, every one for the past 150 years. It was almost as if the priest had taken a selective vow of silence, which allowed only three phrases to be spoken. Vigil shrugged off the inanity of their banter. It was the kind of thing that he would have to learn to let slide, especially if he wanted to stay alive for more than three days in this crazy world. As he stepped up to the clearly marked exit doors, Vigil took a deep breath, and readied for the onslaught that he would have to face to get home. When the doors to the temple of infinite lives opened, it kicked up a flurry of activity that could be compared to a swarm of mosquitoes sighting a cow. Merchants, each hoping to take a sizable chunk of whatever money the man or woman leaving the temple had left, lifted their wares to the "selling" position and pounced upon Vigil. "Daggers! With jeweled hilts!" proclaimed one, lifting the blade menacingly to show how sharp it was. "Fine cloth robes! No shame in walking home in one!" called a female merchant, offering the garment which looked as fine as burlap. "Rare artifacts! Rings and amulets of all kinds!" offered a man with his head wrapped in a turban. He showed his hands clenched into fists, each finger had a different ring on it. If Vigil hadn't known any better, he would think that the man would punch him if he didn't buy a ring. However, Vigil was an old hand at this, and he knew that the man would punch him if he didn't buy a ring; so he selected a ring at random, and paid the fifty gold that the merchant demanded for it. This left Vigil with thirty-three gold coins to his name and a face that had not been rearranged. Arriving home, Vigil took in the riches that he had accumulated throughout his years of adventuring. The pile would awe any treasure hunter from Char'mon to Nau'kee. The colossal tower of books, weapons, and other assorted articles had an estimated value of 20,000,000 gold. Not that any of these facts mattered to Vigil, who was of one mind when it came to his collection of priceless artifacts. "Gods, what a mess!" Vigil muttered as he reached into the pile, rummaging through layers of debris. "I'd clean it up, but that would mean finding out whatever happened to those war dogs I bought two years ago." Vigil began looking through the immense pile of old spell books (which he, as a warrior, couldn't decipher), small gems (which he considered mostly worthless), broken weapons (which he considered invaluable memories of past battles and promised to get repaired, some day), and old magazines (which he would get around to reading sooner or later). While shifting some of the back issues of Bowes and Ammo he found an old shirt that didn't smell too bad and a pair of jeans so old that it looked as if Mr. Levi had stitched them himself. He put on the two articles of clothing, picked up a dagger, reprimanded himself for not getting to the Laundromat more often, and tossed the ring he had picked up onto the pile. Vigil walked out of the door to his house, promising that this time, this time, he would emerge victorious over the forces of evil. This time, he would go down in history as the greatest warrior ever. This time, he would show those highwaymen a thing or two about swordplay! This time, he wouldn't ever have to see that hairy face of the keeper of the temple of infinite lives ever again! Ready to take the world on and spit at its feet, Vigil walked out of his house, and into the street. Where he was mowed down by a speeding chariot. As the familiar blackness descended, he remembered the prophetic words of the priest, "Look both ways before crossing the street."
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