Good day, ladies, and gentlemen.
Today we are taking another trip through time and visiting The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God in our continued exploration of the evolution of writing, dialogue, character, raunchy sass, and more.
When I did this diary entry, I was asked by some guild members if they could have a line or so. Thus, “Rillet” was granted a gracing presence in the “quote.”
I also wanted to do an entry based entirely around video holotapes (save for the very brief actual diary entry and a small section of a Scribe recording in audio). No person is recording all the action and such unless specified. So, what is it that is recording then? Think of it as a drone or some sort of GoPro on the Bear God.
I also figured since it was Christmas time that I would do a type of special. Something that gave an insight into the background of the Bear God. So, you find out he had a woman (of course, when he was under control of his powers) and he had a kid. Now, it’s been ages and no one knows what’s happened to both the lady in his dreams or the kid.
Next up, we have the repercussions of what happens when a follower talks shit to the Bear God. The reaction of a promise the Bear God thought he had broken. Ben. And the beginning of something entirely being born (storywise).
The journey begins its change and will begin to transform into something more. Which, I have to say I am excited to share it again. Come back tomorrow for this week’s conclusion.
Until next then.
*Wondering why I put “Jeremy” in the title? Think of Pearl Jam. . .
The Diary of the Wasteland Bear God
Season One: Episode Twelve
“It is said that on the last Christmas of so many years ago. . .He gave His heart, His loins, and did so lay the lady down by the fire. Lost in the ages, it’s still not known if He had a son. For if He did, the world would probably be doomed.”
—Rillet “Home-skillet,” Da Baby Bears Prophecy 3:10
We feasted last night, engorging our bellies with crab—er—Mirelurk meat. I have to say, Queenie tasted good.
Still, I am a little sad that I had to slay such a weak creature, and on that, she tried hard to communicate with me. . .but it is what it is. As I promised, I am looking after the egg. It stays close to me, safe in its pouch on my knapsack.
Since it is nearing breakfast time, I will put my pen down and join the others for a hearty smorgasbord.
[Scribe Anton begins recording]
“Today marks the day of when the Great Purging took place. Since it has become a new custom, we’ve X’d what was once called Christmas, and replaced it with Xmas, since X marked the spot where the bombs fell. Today, we share tales of old, feast, drink, be merry, and have lots of sex.
The Mighty Bear God, though seems sad. I have heard rumors that long ago, he did lay a woman down by the fire, and they did consummate for several hours that led to days. It is supposed, that while the Mighty Bear God was frozen in time, his cub was born, and was gifted with the very gifts of his father. Some say, however, that he was led astray on the path of life, and that he even is the Anti-Bear God. Of course, this is all speculation—mere rumors—tales. But still, I suspect he misses those olden times.
He at least seems to be a little brighter with the companionship of his canine friend, and the newly acquiesced Mirelurk Egg. I pray that no one dares try to make a meal from it—for Hell will have truly appeared on earth—more so than this already godforsaken wasteland.
I shall join in the festivities.”
[A video holotape is enclosed for the next occurrence of events. It’s marked with the name, Ben]
[Begin tape playback]
The Mighty Bear God raised a dirty glass filled with wine. “My flock, settlers, together we dine, in celebration of surviving the Great Purge, and my awakening.”
He guzzled the wine in one gulp. “Another!”
“My Lordship, I pray you take it easy on the alcohol. If you’d remember last time. . .” a member of The Mighty Bear God’s flock commented.
“Nonsense! I am in full control, and I am more than capable of handling my alcohol! On your way! Fetch me more!” He leered at the man, who now scurried off to get more alcohol in its many forms.
“Who wants some eggs?” Joffery announced, holding a massive platter of scrambled Mirelurk eggs.
The Mighty Bear God raised his brow, then began patting down his person. “Where is it? WHERE IS IT?!”
“Where is what, your Holiness?” Tata replied.
“The egg! Queenie’s egg! WHERE IS IT?!” He frantically searched the pouch in which it should—would—be residing in.
Alas, the pouch was empty, and it was nowhere to be found.
“Joffery. . .I pray you have an explanation as to where exactly you got those eggs? And that it had best not be from MY pouch.”
Joffery became pale. “I—I, found them, y—your Lordship. One on the beach, and others off by a nest.”
“Then tell me. . .WHERE. IS. THE. EGG. THAT. IS. MINE?” The Mighty Bear God stomped his foot on the ground, letting loose a rumble that echoed around.
“I—I don’t know. Maybe it got lost—” Joffery’s stutter rampant and now panicked voice was cut short by a paw to his throat.
“You know. You know damn well where it is.” The Mighty Bear God’s eyes narrowed in with Joffery’s, staring deep into his soul. “It’s on this platter. . .isn’t it?”
Joffery shook his head frantically, “n—no you have to believe me. I didn’t know. I—I was told it’d be funny—a joke!”
The Mighty Bear God snarled, his gaze turning demonic. “A JOKE!? YOU THINK THIS TO BE FUNNY?!”
His grip became a vice, squeezing tighter with each moment of interrogation. “You will tell me who you conspired with, and if you confess to so, I may. . .just may. . .spare you.”
Without hesitation, Joffery ratted out his cohort. “Abadin! It was Abadin!”
“You son of a bitch! You fucking snitch!” Abadin cursed and yelled back.
In a swift motion, Abadin was now also caught in The Mighty Bear God’s grip of death, his voice low. “Why, I ask you. . .why did you steal the egg from me?”
“It’s just a joke. Just like those Mirelurks. They were a joke, that egg was a joke. . .”Abadin paused and looked at the Mighty Bear God. “And you know what? You’re a joke—”
The Mighty Bear God closed his eyes, drowning out the sounds of the incessant whelp that stammered on and on and on about just how pathetic the Almighty was. Rage welled, not just because of the egg, but because of events long past, and that every time something came to be in his possession, and for the greater scheme of things. Everything would go wrong.
In a blink of an eye, the Mighty Bear God bit the head off of Abadin and spit it out towards the sea. Blood sprayed and squirted from the twitching body. He flung the corpse over his shoulder and turned his judgmental gaze upon Joffery.
“I said I would spare you. However, I am beginning to believe that many of you do not appreciate my being here. Tell me, why should I spare you?”
“I—I don’t want to die! I—I’ll do anything for you!” Joffery pleaded.
“Anything? Those are bold words. Would you climb a hill? Wear a daffodil? Pay all my bills? Sign over the house to me? Leave me in your will? Hmm?”
Joffery stared puzzled at The Mighty Bear God but instinctively nodded. “Y—yes, your Lordship!”
The Mighty Bear God shook his head, laughing to himself. He set Joffery down on the ground, who also laughed hysterically.
In a fluid motion, The Mighty Bear God brought up his mighty paw and swung it down like a gavel. Joffery exploded in a bloody mess all over the shoreline. Warm blood sprayed across the Bear God’s face. He did not blink. He did not move any further. He only stood there with disgust on his face.
“I tire of charades. Get rid of them. Clean this mess up,” The Mighty Bear God said.
He sluggishly walked off towards where the Mirelurk egg was given to him. He sighed heavily as he sat down, his head just as heavy.
“I am sorry, Queenie. I failed. . .both. . .you, and the egg.” He looked up towards the horizon, where blue sea stretched on and on, eventually meeting the blue sky.
He felt something scuttering and nudge his rear, followed by a slight pinch. “What the?” He looked down and saw a Mirelurk hatchling, that now looked back up at him.
“Well, I’ll be! You didn’t get scrambled!” The Mighty Bear God rolled to his knees, his face near the hatchling’s small crab face.
[click—click—clack] The hatchling enthusiastically clattered, motioning for The Bear God’s face, moving side to side, as if mimicking a boxer.
The hatchling enthusiastically clattered, motioning for The Bear God’s face, moving side to side, as if mimicking a boxer.
“Oh ho, a real scrapper aren’t we?” The Mighty Bear God smiled. “I think. . .I’ll call you Ben.”
The hatchling clattered in reply, seemingly approving its name.
“Then it’s settled. Ben, it is!” The Mighty Bear God patted Ben. “You shall be my Left Hand.”
[Click click—click—click clack CLACK]
The Mighty Bear God thought back on a film from an age long past. “Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal.”
He smiled, to himself and to Ben, and kept watching the tide slosh against the rocky shore.