Omar and Gottfried the undead skeleton shot down, down through the air towards the vertiable wasteland that was downtown Gifflenberg. They were growing closer and closer to the surfacer every moment, although Omar was slowing their descent with his flame-powered flatulence. They'd almost reached the radius wherein the Voice that was inhabiting Frank the undead skeleton's body could use its [skill] to consume Omar and absorb all his power. Almost.

As they approached the ground, Omar turned to Gottfried. "You know, Gotty, I don't know about this shit."

"What do you mean, old chap?"

Omar stopped their descent, and instead started treading air with his flaming farts. "I mean, I don't know if we ought to go to downtown Gifflenberg right now. Shit has been seriously hitting the fan and it feels like there's another disaster in Gifflenberg almost every single second. How do I know that the ground won't open up and eat us both?"

"I mean, there's no real way to know or predict something like that, old chap," said Gottfriend matter-of-factly. "But, what else would you have us do?"

"Gotty, can I be blunt?"

"As an instrument used to bludgeon someone to death? Certainly."

"Great. So, I think we're going to end up fucking dead or something if we go down there right now. Or, in your case, either double dead or split into a billion pieces or whatever the hell it is for you. Regardless, I don't think that it's the best move. I mean, hell, your skeletal brethren have been spawning out of huge perforations and terrorizing the city. There was an alien that showed up and started leveling buildings. Shit is off the fucking handle right now, and I might have a flaming arm of power, but even that isn't enough for me to feel confident enough to go down any further right now."

"FUCK!! Seriously?!" yelled the Voice from afar, for he had been eavesdropping their conversation to the best of his ability with concern. After all, he'd been expecting Omar to enter the radius of his sinister [skill] by now, and this was about the worst news possible.

"That was weird," said Omar. "Regardless, Gotty, something just feels off. And that something is that everything keeps going to shit here in Gifflenberg, so my natural inclination is to get the fuck out of dodge. You see, Gotty, there's something you maybe don't know about me. And that is that I'm a fucking boss. I know what the fuck I'm about. I gamble, I'm corrupt, I will do what it takes. And my shit stirring senses are telling me that we need to go somewhere else. Somewhere safer. Specifically, I'm thinking we head to my safe house."

"Your safe house, old chap?" Gottfried looked confused.

"Yes, Gotty, my safe house. Everyone ought to have one, if you ask me, because you can never be sure when shit's going to go down. But, I also have a bit of a propensity for getting into trouble, and even though I might be best friends with some of the most powerful authorities here in Gifflenberg, that's not super helpful when they might all be dead. You know the mayor of Gifflenberg, Gotty?"

"No," said Gottfried blankly.

"Shit. Well, anyway, I love smoking stogies with that guy. He's a real tobacco hound. But regardless, I don't know if he's going to even make it out of all this mess. Especially with New Curr going around in spades. Not that you have anything to worry about, you silly little undead skeleton, you. Must be nice not to have to worry about getting turned into mathematics. Talk about a hellish way to go. Imagine having your whole life flash before your eyes, but your whole family is just replaced with equations and variables. Fucking disturbing stuff for sure. So, with all this, we need to go to the safe house. It's great, it was provided by the Order. And hell, if the mayor is alive, maybe he'll even be there."

"The Order?" Gottfried looked confused.

"Wow, you really have been dead for five centuries," said Omar. "Then again, I think the Order first established itself about five centuries ago, so if you'd been a little more hip and with it then maybe you'd know what I'm referring to. That said, it's the Order of Ahw Gizer. Try to drill that into your skull - hah - before we get there, in case anybody else is there and asks who you are. It'll be beyond embarassing for me to bring you there if you don't even know what the Order is, okay? So just act like you do.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Gottfried agreed with good cheer. With that, Omar positioned his posterior due north and fired them off across the horizon in a flatulent burst, streaming across the sky at a blistering speed.

And down on the surface of the downtown area, the Voice inhabiting Frank's body was staring up at the sky and seething with rage. How could they do this to him? He had deserved to consume Omar! Omar was so powerful! The Voice had already been imagining what it would do with a big, flaming arm... And now that was no more! What was the Voice to do?

It looked to the sky and noticed a trail of smoke running across it. This smoke trail was fading and expanding fast, but it wasn't yet gone. With enough gumption and energy, maybe the Voice would be able to track Omar to this safe house and consume him. Better yet, if the Voice had any luck, maybe there would be other people there at the safe house that were as powerful as Omar - or, hell, maybe people even more powerful than Omar. Now, wouldn't that be something nice...

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

Omar had almost completely zoomed out of the Gifflenberg city limits when he suddenly decided to plummet to the ground.

"AAGH!" cried Gottfried.

"Wow, didn't know you were a coward," said Omar as they shot down through the air and soon landed on the cobbleston road.

He looked around, finally spying a large stone statue of a dog.

"Alright, Gotty," said Omar as he walked over to the dog statue. "If I do this in front of you, then you've got to swear to me that you never, and I do mean fucking never, will reveal the sequence of events I'm about to perform to anyone. Because, if you do, the Order of Ahw Gizer will destroy both you and whoever you tell, whether it be required that they grind your bones into dust, or they set you on fire, or toss you into a volcano - it will happen and you will die. So, please be aware of the risk of this. Are you ready?"

"Jolly good, old chap!"

Omar felt his lower eyelid twitch a little. This undead skeleton was just a little too cheery! And yet, he'd saved him from death by dragon breath - and for that, he felt indebted. With that, Omar took a deep breath, and prepared to perform the sequence.

He walked up to the dog statue and petted it on the head.

"Who's a good boy?"

The statue, bizzarely, started to pant and move as if it were a living dog. Omar scratched its neck, and it started kicking with its hind leg a little bit.

"Oh, yea, is that the spot?"

He scratched it a little more. Then, Omar stopped.

"Okay, sit, boy."

The dog statue sat down immediately. Its movement was strange and somewhat choppy, it almost flowed like a liquid, although once it sat, it was almost stationary like stone again.

"Good boy. Now, shake!"

The dog held out its paw and then shook Omar's hand.

"Perfect, good boy. Now, speak!"

The dog barked so loud that Omar's ears were ringing for a second.

"Good boy! Now, roll over!"

The dog sat there, still as the statue that it was.

"Roll over, boy!"

The dog did not respond.

"Dammit, boy, roll over! Roll over, boy!"

The dog was still.

"Ugh, I hate when it does this," said Omar. He rifled around in his satchel and eventually produced a small bean. "Who wants a treat? Do you want a treat?"

The statue started panting with anticipation.

"There we go! Alright, boy, roll over!"

The statue dropped to its base, spun in a circle, and then flipped over on its back with glee. Then, it regained its composure and sat back up, looking expectantly to Omar for the treat.

"Good boy," said Omar as he tossed the statue the bean.

After chewing up the bean, the statue let loose one more loud bark that shook the ground a little. Then, Gottfried gasped as the doors to a crypt at the nearby cemetary swung open quickly.

"Wow, look at that, as spry as ever," said Omar with a smile. "Come on, Gotty, let's go on in. We'll see if anyone else from the Order is here."

They walked through the gate of the cemetery, and noticed that the sky went from a light blue to a dark green almost immediately. This was normal enough - cemeteries were often [enchanted] with certain spells that made them look what was thought to be appropriately gloomy and foreboding. They walked up to the open crypt.

"Undead first," said Omar, gesturing for Gottfried to step forward. "It is a cemetery, after all."

Gottfried stepped forward and walked into the crypt, and watched as a long row of blue torches lit, one after the other. They walked together deeper and deeper into the crypt, and soon enough came upon a large door with the shape of an eye carved into it.

"Alright, now I've got to go first," said Omar, pushing Gottfried aside. "I must recant the sacred rites. By the way, this is another thing where the Order will destroy you if you disemminate it. Just a heads up."

"Okay, old chap, jolly good!"

Omar rolled his eyes, sighed, and cleared his throat. "Iminus amminus aminus memberminus ofminus theminus Orderminus letminus meminus theminus fuckminus insideminus thisminus safeminus houseminus alreadyminus youminus obnoxiousminus enchantmentminus!"

The door started to shake and quake, and then slowly creak open.

"Hello there, Omar!" shouted a familiar voice.

Omar turned around to see a skeleton. "Oh my gods, more of you obnoxious motherfuckers?"

The skeleton smiled and pointed a bony finger at Omar. "You're mine!"

Omar shot the skeleto a confused look. "What, are you flirting with me or something?"