Miscalibrated Internet Receptor Stalks

Story time with Uncle Drillpress

In regards to origin stories...

When I started commenting on i09, I used Drillpress just because I happen to be looking at one when I created my account. I had an avatar pic of Tiger Mask from an old account on another site and just used that because I was too lazy to make something new. I’ve changed my avatar a few times, but it has always been a tiger. Also, I kinda have a crush on Tony the Tiger, so yeah, tigers


I have to say, writing this was kind of fun, I make no assumptions on its accuracy to history or its believably ;)

Also, thanks Quasi Hatrack, for making me write something instead of doing actual work!

Having said that, here is my, Drillpress', origin story:

Breathing was agony through the cold, congestive thickness the damp fog filled his lungs with. The exhaustion, aching muscles and the accursed mist-blanket that obscured his view of the forest’s edge compounded the need to end this battle and return to his mundane, but less dangerous existence. The blood-scarred blade of the sword held in his all too familiar attack stance carried the weight of a thousand cargo ships as his tired limbs strained to hold its position. He had not wanted this fight, but the fate of his task was sealed, and as the tense minutes passed, he grew closer and closer to finishing the strife that ended his love’s life.


His love; that sweet angel, who parted the seas of discord within his heart and shed light on his darkened, hollow soul , had died so needlessly, so callously of nothing more than the warmth of kindness. His love reached out to a poor, distraught stranger who, in an arrogant and excessively evil fashion, removed his disguise and devoured the soft hand that tried to feed him. That monster, that horrible excuse of life was his enemy now. Never to slaughter another, never to live beyond this day, the creature the villagers call Da-rill Pah’res - the forbidden one, would die by his hand today and never again wear the mask that shielded his horrible visage to the unsuspecting innocents.

He inched ever closer towards the skin-crawling, low-fidelity cacophony of digestion, panting and growls coming from the beast. He used the once-teasing, gray tar swirling between the bamboo now as his only cover to track and discover Da-rill. Through a squint and adaptation of the first morning light, he caught a glimpse of his prey licking the deep wound that his crimson stained sword so proudly inflicted. This was his chance, as the beast was recovering; this was his moment to strike.


With his last ounce of strength and will, he leapt forward through the tall warrior bamboo, sword arching over his head, into the clearing the creature resided in and struck down with the only might his aching body would allow. The monster reacted fast, dodging the blow and sprinting around the circle, readying itself for its own onslaught. Through the whirling vortex of parting fog, he could see the dried blood of its victims that cast a rich orange tone against the black war-paint stripes it adorned its white pelt with. He spun around, knees buckling, as the hideous villain stood up on its hind legs and extended its claws to deliver the final blow. Leaning forward and straining its muscles, the creature glared at him through pitch black eyes and pink stained jaws and fangs.

In that instance, the shielding emptiness of the clearing was silent, yet somewhere in the quiet, a bird took flight and the flutter of wings broke the monster’s concentration just for a second -an opening. Pushing the pistons that drove his desire for revenge and justice, he mustered his last iota of will and raced for the exposed belly of his towering foe, sword extended.


The soul-piercing cry of death the beast released sent a blinding shiver down his back as the monster collapsed to the ground, defeated.

His hunt was over. He could rest now knowing that his love was avenged. But, his battle would need to stand as a reminder to all the other evil spirits that would rob the world of such frail innocence. For the final indignity dealt to it, he cleaved the head of the great terror and carried it back to his homestead. Throwing it into the center of the ever bustling town square, the populous grew quiet. He declared the evil beast dead and no longer shall the people fear the night. The people rejoiced and forever vowed to regale the lands with the defeat of Da-rill Pah’res and the warrior who so valiantly succeeded against the forbidden one.



Well, until the next evil monster thing attacked, but that’s a COMPLETELY different story.

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