The right audience, the right setting and the precise moment can set wheeels in motion you see and that is exactly what happened there on that otherwise most unremarkable of nights. I must describe the setting to you with a tad bit mroe detail if the story of this legend is tohave any effect on you. Or, if luck has it and your actually not a fool as they always are, you understand the simple truth behind the smoke that simply hides a mirror. Or anything else for that matter. For smokes and shadows will play with your mind and soul much the same way as a fiddler with his strings and the fire with the benedictors smile.
But I digress, as I am want to do, they say my very existence is just a distraction from my reality which to tel lyou th truth, if they are to be believed, is truly a ruse to cover my simple objective. Annihilation.
Now back to the old fool and his wise tail to a foolish tale. Please bear with my puns, I do so enjoy and wouldnt you spare an old man his eccentricities.
As the fools laughter echoed through the night a sound was drowned out in the near distance. Someone did not like this story because someone had almost died at the end of it and giving away clues to your weakness is not something this someone was very fond of. So this someone that we speak of, for I shall not call this entity a man or woman, moved closer to the small audience that listened to the benedictor.
Around the fire sat four souls and our someone realised only three of them were mortal. If there was something this someone enjoyed mroe than anything else it was a story, even fatal ones as this one promised to be. And so we sit down by our hearth and listen to this old old story told by a fireside by a fool, heard by three others, some of them fools, and observed from a distance by a third party they would never know existed. Maybe he did, maybe he didnt. Its all just a throw of the dice really.
"Aye, so the legend of old man Fate." More whisky was poured, duly watered to last the telling of the legend. "Fate, as I said, was a quirky old man. He did what he wanted. He roamed where he felt. He was a self made man. He took his decisions. But that is not the same as having control over them. Fate had more than one life you see but these others were jsut possibilities, so the lgend goes man and dont stare at me like that. I didnt make the story," he withdrew a little and leaned into the shadows of the fire. "I jsut tell it."
"Fate you see, has many a lives but only one conscience. Only one memory. And choosing which to live and when to live it was a task he never could manage. And so he sought an answer to his problems. And what does one of them do when they find themselves stuck in a rut like a mere human. They talk to one of them others," and he winked a little smile as if he was acting like he knew more. He did.
"Fate went to meet one of his family. And, you never want to run into your family at an indelicate moment, but sometimes you just do. Cant help things yo usee. Its jsut plain simple fate really and even fate couldnt be above it. He was fate himself. And so he went into that dark lair ..."
This had gone on long enough. There was too much truth out in the night. And fate survived on playing smokes and mirrors. Whats the point if you know your fate. He becomes obsolete. The old man would need to shut up. Forever.
Someone reached into the pocket that had appeared in the left side of its cloak. Two dice. Simple. The thing rolled them.
The benedictor died. The body finally sucummed to al lthe years of the slow poison it seems. Thankfully it was a clean death.
Lucky. Someone walked away having lived another day.
