King John lay manacled to a rock, whilst his brother fed him with an iron spoon. He spat and fell back with the tremors seizing him once again. The palours of Hell had traced over his mind.
Richard, who had but a visitor's pass, drew back and sighed. Did it all end here, in this place of screaming men?
And what of those monkey men? One had shat on John at his first appeal, and the earth beneath had heated most uncomfortably.
A groan came from the spaces beyond. Sheriff Marc, who had been defeated by death at a similar time, shared this same ledge. Three once powerful men - two, answering for their treason to Humanity, now sentenced to cleansing what was left of their souls.
Puck appeared amongst the three of them. Although he was differently costumed in the present-day attire, both recognised him, as they had known him before, as Robin.
His aura of cheerfulness was potent within the underworld realm - everyone seemed to know him, one way or another.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
Foibles, a Dwarf from Copernicus, was doing his bookwork when it happened.
Dwarves are very adept at keeping accurate accounts, for it appeals to their hoarding and sense of exactness. Their books are rarely off balance.
They have no need for calculators and can achieve large sums in their rocky heads - calculating mountain mass to ore ratio in but a lengthy moment.
"Too many wintery dinners" he said, putting his pen down.
The tip of its quill glinted in the half-light. He scrutinized the page again, double checking what he knew already to be true...
"A toad's breath is more pungent than its back-end gas, and can brown the top of a cauliflower at a distance of three inches. Note to self - must keep the toads far from the roses this year, else their emissions singe the petals."
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
Plop! Another golden marble wriggle-rolled itself across the parquetry floor to fall heavily into the stairwell and down the side of the velvet runner into a small congregation of other such rounds of gold gathered at the bottom below.
The child laughed knowingly. She liked the sport, for the noise defied the quiet very nicely.
Her little tunic was slathered in something that had been caramel, and another that had been milk; and her face was grimy with a smile that could not have been bigger.
"You will have to return her,” Goober said as casually as he could make it sound.
Puck tossed another marble, the infant squealed and thumped her little fist out on the ground as if to stop it.
"Marley won't remember a thing ... she never does." he whined, as if taking Charley for the night might be just one of those things.
"It’s plain to see you're miserable my old pal. How’s about I get Charley back to her Mum and you go get yourself some proper think time."
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
When a king enters into Heaven he is preoccupied with plans and foils; he drifts between those thoughts of his destiny's work, and how the world had shaped to his fancy.
It is not as it is with the experience of a commoner’s death - where the sweet peace falls and speaks to the soul. It is a restless banter in that final transition comes from one who just cannot let go of the power that he held.
Puck on the other hand, had stood at the end of many a royal bed to watch over the transition into yet, a higher office - and, as Robin of the Forest, his sympathies had been very much with this red-haired king. Ambition had teased him sorely.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
Temperance is the good measure of hopefulness:
That we do not feel pressed to engorge ourselves all at the one time,
But that we can save our moments, that there is a tomorrow,
And with that tomorrow will come more.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
The kindly face of his Lord was familiar and His presence was most soothing also. As Richard laid his troubled heart before Him, he already felt that the answers to all things were now possible, and he was instantly calmed.
The greatest of Kings then spoke to him saying:
"The work of vanquishing evil is not yours alone dear Richard - and your merits so won, now add to the pot of all Men.
“For it is upon every soul to see and withstand the conceits that deride their kind.
"By your wish I can become, and by my will you shall now be - and all is well.
“Evil itself can only have presence when it is invited. Fear not, for its dominions are small and its reach, incomplete.
“We may go now."
And so saying he closed Richard's eyes who had swept out into a heavenly sleep.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
Sheriff Marc had stubbed his toe on a wayward lance protruding out from a dead man's chest.
He cursed audibly and then returned to his employ, examining the coffers brought forward by the taxationers of the county. They were showing to be more than ample and his garnishing would be prosperous this season.
His two cases were identical black leathered chests - save that one bore the King's crest, and the other, mysteriously, had nothing ascribed to its owner.
The next day the outward-bound coach sent to convey the monies was found abandoned at the side of a stream. The driver had maintained that he and his company were besieged by a vagabond army that had leapt out from the forest, released their horses, and taken the caskets fast away.
-Gabriel Brunsdon, Puck in Hell, Azlander Series
