PlaneShift
Fan Area => Roleplaying (Communitive Storywriting) => Collaborative Stories => Topic started by: 40 pancakes on June 04, 2005, 01:06:52 am
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My previous username was LondonWalker, or quiksilver012. If you remember me, chances are you joined the original little experiment and little experiment 2, and will know that they are really good fun. Here are the rules;
1. After reading the previous post, make an addition to the story. It can\'t be too unrealistic, and try to make it original and interesting.
2. Post an inventory of the main characters items at the bottom of your post.
[EDIT] Due to threats of whipping and/or dancing, it is now located in an anonymous location outside of Yliakum. Ruben is a Ylian, Glyure is a Dermorian, I think.
4. Your post must have a minimum of 80 words, this isn\'t a three word post story.
5. Try and be as descriptive as you can be. I\'d like to make this a story when it\'s done so decriptiveness would help.
6. Not too many action scenes! Action is good but we want to have a storyline as well...
Here we go...
Ruben lifted up his head, and looked around. His vision spun, and everything was blurry. He was in a grassy field, he could spot a large forest to his left and a lake to his right. Small deer were grazing nearby and looked up at him as he tried to get up. His limbs weren\'t cooperating, for some reason. He had no memory of anything that had happened prior to waking up besides one thing, a sword, and that his name was Ruben. He looked down at himself, he was wearing a well tailored pair of trousers and a simple but good quality shirt. In his pocket was a 6\" knife. His clothes were wet, and so was he, he must have been there for at least two days. He felt a grumbling in his stomach, and resolved that he had to find food.
Inventory:
Well tailored trousers
Good quility white shirt
Leather boots
6\" knife
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\"Finding food was in the absence of fishing gear best done in the woods\", thought Ruben. He ventured into the woods looking for some edible plants. Ruben didn\'t have any knowledge about forest vegetation and couldn\'t really tell which plants were really edible and which were not, so he had to trust his instinct. After a ten minute walk he found a pack of bushes which had red berries hanging from the branches. Ruben took one and examined it closely. It surely looked edible, but was it? The grumbling of his stomach and the lifeless feeling in his limbs gave him a strong compulsion towards deciding for the first option.
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Not related to PS, huh? This'll most likely get moved to the Plaza. Original? You asked for it. ;) Added status and company.
"Here goes nothing." Ruben tossed one of the large berries into the air, intending on catching it in his mouth. But as it reached its apex, a loud crack echoed though the air, splattering the berry in mid-flight?and all over his face and eyes. "Damn!" he shouted, trying to rub the sticky, stinging chunks of goo out of his eyes. What the hell kind of berries where these? The stinging increased, becoming an almost unbearable pain. He scrubbed harder but the burning only continued to get worse. Suddenly he felt something grab his hair, pulling his head back painfully.
"Put your hands down and hold still, fool, unless you want to go blind," a woman's deep voice commanded. In his currant situation, he had no choice but to comply. Soothing water pored over his face and eyes, taking away most of the pain. As the water stopped, he realized his vision blurred and warped to nearly the point of blindness.
"I can't see," he said, panicking.
"Your sight will return in a day or two, I guess your stuck with me for that time," said the sultry voice. "You're lucky I came along when I did, and my skill with a whip is still top notch, or you would be quite dead by now."
"Who are you?"
A long pause. "I am Glyure... though I ask that you never repeat that name to any of your fellow guardsmen.?
"Guardsmen?"
A longer pause. "You don't remember? No wonder you almost ate a Deaththorn berry."
Inventory:
Well tailored trousers
Good quality, berry stained white shirt
Leather boots
knife
Status:
Temporarily blind
Company:
Glyure... a woman with a whip and a secret.
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((Thanks for your interest guys! Remember to add the Inventory, and the status and company as well(Thanks Under the moon!), and the new one I added, what he has equipped. Oh, and if possible I\'d like the next poster to make Glyure be a young female elf with black hair, to fit in with the story I have in mind.))
\"Well obviously, otherwise I wouldn\'t have tryed to eat one\" He mumbled.
He looked in Glyures direction, all he could see was a tall, slim figure, he walked towards her and she set off, not slowly either.
After they had been walking for a few minutes, the blur of pale green grass changed to dark green, \'she must live in the forest\' thought Ruben.
\"Keep up son, if you get left behind the wolves will get you\" Teased Glyure with an amused voice.
\"I didn\'t catch your name, what might it be?\"
\"Ruben\" He replied as they came up to a small brown blob, maybe it was her house. Glyure approached the door, mumbled something under her breath, and a click could be heard. She opened the door and stepped in. Ruben shuffled his feet a bit, he was nervous going into a random strangers house.
\"Do you want to be blind and cold? Come in you silly boy\" She scolded. For some reason Ruben remembered that tone and instantly complied, feeling a wash of foolishness go over him. He moved through the door and was guided into a seat by Glyure.
\"Wait there, I\'ll get you some dry clothing\" She said, moving off to Rubens right.
Ruben looked around the room. He could make out a window, a green rug, and a large, round wooden table. He still felt slightly uncomfortable being in someones house that he didn\'t know, but resolved that it was better than being out in the open in this condition.
\"There you go\" Said Glyure, when Ruben felt the light weight of the clothing drop onto his lap. He sat there for a minute, still feeling uncomfortable, when he heard Glyure say \"I\'m not in the room you know, you can change now if you are that self conscious\"
With that he changed with some difficulty into the new set of clothes. From what he could tell it was an archers uniform, dark green shirt and brown leather jerkin, with a pair of slightly loose trousers. He kept his own boots and put his knife in his pocket. Glyure moved in again and took his old clothes, maybe to dry or wash them.
Inventory:
Well tailored trousers
Good quality, berry stained white shirt
Leather boots
6\" knife
Dark green shirt
Brown leather jerkin
Slightly loose trousers
Equipped:
Leather boots
6\" knife
Dark green shirt
Brown leather jerkin
Slightly loose trousers
Status:
Temporarily blind
Company:
Glyure... a woman with a whip and a secret.
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*looks at new rules 4-6*
Carpfish! Now I have to write more than three words? How shall I ever achieve that ponderous task? So you would like more details, huh? And a plot? Time to step out of the ordinary and stir things up. Grab your seat, you're in for a bumpy ride.
By special request...
Ruben yawned and stretched his arms above and behind his head until his shoulders cracked. He then rolled his head from side to side, emitting another series of satisfying pops and cracks. Much more satisfying than the conversation he had had with Glyure last night...or lack thereof. After giving him his new clothing and taking the old, she had said no more than five words at a time. Either to ask him if he ate meat, or how his vision was doing, or once to say he had nice shoulders -whatever that meant. He supposed it was meant as a compliment. But other than that, she had said nothing. His injured sight gave him a great disadvantage, not being able to see her expression as she watched him -as he was sure she did- like a hawk, or perhaps a vulture. She did not trust him, somehow he knew that, and he returned the feeling. Perhaps she was the person behind his predicament. It seemed more than odd that he happened to wake up a mere stone's throw from her house, if that is what it was. Darkness had come, and she had shown him to this room. He was not sure, but he thought he remembered the sound of a lock turning as he had drifted off to sleep. And that brought him to now, in a strange woman's house, laying on a stranger's bed, with his head on a stranger's pillow. Though it was a very soft pillow, he thought to himself as he began to drift back into sleep, and smelled slightly of something sweet and earthy.
Shhick-kachick.
Ruben sat up quickly at the sound coming from the other side of the door, sleep suddenly long forgotten. It had still been dark when he had stretched and yawned, but now the morning light began casting its dim light into the room though a small window placed high in the wall. Not enough to gauge if his sight had returned, but enough to make out the dim shapes of the room?s sparse furnishings. Nothing different from the previous night that he could see.
Click-snap.
He swung his legs off the bed, wincing at the slight creak it emitted, then again as it made a similar creak when he stood slowly. Barefooted, he crept across to the door, a flickering from the other side giving away its outline. Ever so slowly, he turned the latch, thankfully with no noise this time. The door pulled open silently on well oiled hinges. Candlelight filtered through the widening crack, falling on Ruben's face. Trying to not even breath, he peeked through the opening. With a mental sigh of relief, he saw that his sight had returned nearly to normal, if a little fuzzy around the edges, yet. But clear enough to see a woman sitting at the table with her back to him, her wide necked white blouse hanging half off one slender shoulder, the other covered by a sheet of solid black hair. She brushed her hair back from her still hidden face with one hand, revealing the pointed tip of an ear. Ruben's hand went to his own ear. Round. Why were they different? Why couldn't he remember? Mesmerized by the woman's smooth graceful movements, he watched as she lifted something off the table for a closer look. The object was blocky, little longer than her forearm, a hand's width tall, but only a couple finger's widths wide. What seemed to be a handle of sorts sprouted from the bottom of one end. The entire thing seemed to be made out of many different pieces of some sort of dull metal, thought parts of it were also jet black. With practiced movements, the woman picked up another object, this one a hollow rod a little shorter than the blocky object, but made out of the same metal. She slid the rod into the end of the block opposite the handle and pulled some unseen catch.
Crichick.
She then placed the conjoined object on the table and rolled her shoulders with a soft sigh.
"You know, Ruben, you should learn to keep your Biolance cleaner," said the woman without turning. Glyure! "At least some of that buildup was there before I found it at the bottom of a pond." Then she did turn, revealing a youthfull beautiful face with eyes the color of burnt amber. Her thin lips were palely pinkish, and turned up in an amused smile. One of her thin black eyebrows arched questioningly. "Did no one ever teach you that it is rude to lurk in doorways behind unsuspecting women?"
Ruben was too shocked to mention that it had never come up, and he would not remember it if it did.
Inventory:
Same as above.
Equipped:
Same as above, though barefoot.
Status:
Getting better. But still a little fuzzy
Company:
Glyure... a woman with a whip, pointy ears, a Biolance and a secret.
>Ok, this is probably not the direction you were going, but you said no limits. ;)PM me if you need to discuss it. : )
>On a side note....Oh no, I'm turning into Monketh! O.o
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Ruben stood in the doorway, motionless, before he realised that he was only wearing undergarments. He blushed slightly and attempted to \"cover up\" and clumsily closed the door. He heard Glyure laugh and felt extremely embarassed. He felt his way towards the window and pulled aside the curtains, revealing a drizzly Autumn morning.
The area surrounding Glyures house was comprised mainly of rolling, green hills dotted with very large trees, low, with widespread branches. Ruben turned and looked in the room he had slept in, spotted his clothing and pulled them on hastily. Strangely, he noticed that his knife was missing.
After a few minutes of thought, Ruben felt the ever present grumbling in his stomach. He slowly opened the door and stepped out. He looked around the well furnished room, noting the numerous paintings on the wall, predominately portraits with people posessing the pointed ears Glyure had. He sat down at the large round table in the middle of the room and looked at the object Glyure had lectured him about not keeping clean. \'A biolance...\' Ruben said softly to himself. He looked at it, unsure of what to do. But he resolved that it was his after all, and picked it up. It was devoid of distinguishing features, it was just a box-like object. He lifted it to eye level and looked in the hole. He was astonished to see an intricate maze of copper, gold and silver coloured wires, dotted with small emerald green diamond shapes which pulsed strangely.
He stared at it for a few minutes longer, but with a sharp reminder of his hunger, layed it down on the table and, walking towards the front door, went outside. He stepped out and took a deep breath. He looked around, and spotted a path inbetween the thick trees. Ruben sighed and strolled towards it.
All this mistery wasn\'t good for him...
Inventory:
Same as above.
Equipped:
Same as above, though now wearing his boots.
Status:
Vision slightly sharper than before.
Company:
Glyure... a woman with a whip, pointy ears, and a secret.
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After a time, Ruben thought he heard voices ahead -angry voices. Stealthily -to his surprise, he seemed to by good at stealth- he shadowed from tree to tree until he could make the voices out clearly. One, he knew as Glyure, the other the gruff unfamiliar voice of a man. Why should any voice be familiar? I barely know myself, let alone anyone else, he thought to himself. He listened intently as the male voice rose again, obviously outraged.
"That changes no matters! We never keep with that kind, let alone bring them to our hearth! What were you thinking Elf?"
Elf? She is an Elf? Maybe that explains the pointy ears. But what, exactly, is an Elf?
Glyure's voice rose in response, though more calmly. "It was my choice, Mojag. I could not leave him out there in the wild with no memory. I take full responsibility for his actions. Perhaps we can get some useful information from him."
"Is that all you wish him for, Glyure? Or something other? You always have taken to strays, and it has been two years since Dragun fell. Your bed must feel quite cold by now."
Ruben jumped at the resounding smack that echoed through the forest.
"You dare strike me?!" Mojag shouted, his voice livid.
"If you ever speak of myself again in that way, or utter Dragun's name in my presence, it will be more than your pride I injure." By the tone in her voice, Ruben had no doubt she would carry though with her threat. By Mojag's quick response, he knew it too.
"Many pardons, m'lady. T'iis just...well you are knowing famous dwarven tempers. Your words have been a shock to me, that is all. If you say he is no danger, then no danger he is. You are sure he remembers not a thing?"
"I am not dead," was Glyure's simple response, as if it was more than enough of an answer.
Dead?! Does she me that I..no, it couldn't be...could it?
"Indeed," Mojag spoke, apparently taking her deeper meaning.
Ruben's head spun. I am a killer? No...I can't -I won't be!
Glyure spoke again, though a hard edge of anger still remained. "Take this dagger to the Circle as proof that I have him. I took it while he slept."
"What of his Biolance?"
"I never found it," Glyure answered without pause.
She is lying...why?
"Very well, then, I take my leave now. We will meet anon in two sun's time. The Circle will decide what is to be done with him."
"Yes, until then, work on that temper of yours. I would hate to have to kill you."
Mojag laughed. "You are not the only one that would not be taking a liking to that. Goodbye m'lady, and be safe."
Ruben glanced quickly around the tree as he heard footsteps tromping away. All he saw of Mojag was a short shadow of a figure disappearing around a bend. Glyure stood watching him go. Suddenly, Ruben realized that he hid mere steps from the path. She would see him for sure on her way back. Trying to make as little noise as possible, he skulked back the way he had come, making as much noise as the wind's shadow. He reached the house in no time. Now that he saw it clearly, it was almost more of a small mansion than a house. A mansion built for defense. The windows were all out of reach from the ground, and too small for a man to fit besides. The walls appeared to be thick layers of squared off logs. A glance at the roof told him that the building was designed so as to be invisible from the air, all moss, grass, and even a bush here and there. But why invisible from the air, while the walls were left for all to see? It made no sense to him. Forgetting the oddness of the structure, he slipped into the door and went to sit at the long table. It did not take to long before Glyure entered the same door. Her body had a sinuous sway as she walked to the table -passing Ruben- and sat a few seats away. As she passed, a slight smell drifted to his nose, slightly sweet and earthy. So it was her bed I slept on. He didn't know how he felt about that. Glyure put her chin on entwined fingers and stared at him, as if trying to think of something to say. Ruben noticed that the back of her right hand was red and a little puffy. She had hit Mojag hard. As the moment began to grow awkward, she finally spoke.
"I suppose you wish to know why I think you would have killed me, had you remembered what you are. Though I did say it was rude to lurk behind unsuspecting woman, no matter how nice your shoulders are."
For the second time in one day, Ruben found himself too shocked to speak.
==========
Inventory:
Still the same as above.
Equipped:
Same as above, still wearing his boots.
Status:
All good, but still remembers nothing.
Company:
Glyure... An Elfess with a whip and a secret
>Ok, for any who have not figured it out yet, a Biolance is a form of a gun (very different form, yes, but still a gun), Ruben is some sort of soldier, Glyure is his enemy and may be in a bit of trouble for her actions, but he doesn't remember any of it, and they are not in Yliakum (buuut...).
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After an extended pause- \"Wh-who am I? Why would I kill you? What\'s happening?\" Ruben said, the words tumbling from his mouth.
A slight smile lifted Glyures lip.
\"Well you are a soldier. Or more likely a town guard. I don\'t know who you are, but I do know that much. That biolance there, do you want to see what it does?\" Ruben nodded vigorously and Glyure picked it up.
She walked down her hallway and through another door out to a clearing behind her house. A few targets were set up, at intervals of 25 metres away. She looked briefly at Ruben, grinned, and crouched down. She raised the biolance, took aim at the furthest target, and raised the rod-like object that accompanied the box-like object. She proceeded to ram the stick into the hole as hard as she could. The other end glowed briefly white then a bolt of pure energy shot out, exploding on impact with the target, causing a hole about 10 cm in diamater to be created. She stood back up and smiled again.
\"So it\'s a weapon... My weapon?\" Ruben said, startled at what he had been obviously carrying around and using.
\"Why would I need to wield that much power?\" Ruben said, dumbfounded.
\"Well it does have a few settings, you can toggle the strength and size of each bolt by sliding your finger along this panel\" She said, pushing slightly on one side of the biolance, causing a cover to pop up, revealing said panel. She closed it and said
\"And the speed and time between each bolt is easily controlled by the user with the handle\" She said, popping the panel and setting it to its weakest setting. She fired a rapid succession of 10 bolts in the direction of the closest target. It only created a slight burn mark.
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Inventory:
Still the same as above.
Equipped:
Same as above, still wearing his boots.
Status:
Healthy, now slightly aware of his past
Company:
Glyure... An Elfess with a whip and a secret
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[ooc] Um...sorry, I got a little carried away with this one, but it should explain a lot.
Ruben stared, still dumfounded at the power of such a simple thing. As Glyure pulled the rod back out of the weapon he mulled over what he had learned so far. So he was a soldier, and a well trained one at that, if he was to believe the Elfess. He used a weapon that could surely kill, and a sinking feeling in his gut told him he had before. Glyure was helping him, had lied for him, even seem to like him. But something still nagged his mind.
"You didn't answer my question, Glyure. Why would I kill you?"
Glyure put the weapon down on a nearby table. Her expression was sad this time, her movements slow. "I knew I was going to have to face this again one day. The past is never completely buried."
She began walking towards the forest behind the targets. Ruben had no choice but to follow. She cut into the trees on what he realized was a very seldom used and overgrown path. Glyure's steps seemed reluctant ahead of him, yet she never slowed until they entered a small clearing. At its center rested a small stone building only a pace to a side. Not a building, but a shrine, he saw as they came closer. Glyure stopped and opened the door after a long breath.
"This is your answer," she said quietly and stepped back.
Ruben took her place at the door. Looking inside, he saw a thing as odd as any he had in the last few days. A sword. It was a beautifully crafted thing with a wide blade and hilt long enough for two hands. The crossguard held a few markings in some type of rune he couldn't comprehend.
"It was my fathers, all this was," Glyure said, emotion heavy in her voice. "But not that," she continued, pointing at a metal box on the floor.
The metal looked familiar as Ruben bent down to study it. He tipped back the lid and saw why. Resting on some neatly folded clothing identical to the ones he had woken up in yesterday, was another Biolance. He felt compelled to reach out, to touch it. As he did, a face flashed in his mind, a memory, a name. Dragun.
"This was his...Dragun's," Ruben said, his head spinning. Another memory flashed in his head, drawing his eyes back to the sword. But this was not a new memory, it was the one he had woken up with, that damp day. What could it mean?
"How did you know that?"
Ruben turned at the slight sound of fear in Glyure's voice. Her eyes were unsure as she looked upon him. Ruben shook his head. "I don't know, it just came to me. Who was he? Is he the reason?"
"No...yes...I...it is not so simple. I thought you...were here to kill me because he failed, and because of who I am."
"Who are you, Glyure?"
"I am your enemy."
"Why?"
"Because of what is in the bag at the bottom of the box."
Ruben slowly lifted the clothing aside to see the tied bag. He took it up and untied the neat knots that spoke of a feminine hand. He then closed the box's lid and spilled the contents of the bag out on it. Six objects fell to the lid. Six shapes and six colors, with a different symbol on each.
"What are they?"
"Glyphs. One for each Way. The creations of Talad, and all that is left of the old world. We brought many of them with us when we left, thinking they would aid us, but instead, they have become a curse. They don't work in this world, nothing from the homeland does. The magic is gone. Even from the piece of the legendary Crystal that brought us here."
"Stop, I don't understand any of this. What ways? Who is Talad? What is this crystal?"
"You truely don't remember, do you? Very well, I shall start at the beginning. It is written that our ancestors all used to live in a world called Yliakum, a world of old magics ruled by gods and power. This power came from a giant crystal. One day, a piece broke from the Crystal. It was not as powerful as the whole Crystal, so they were able to approach and study it. After generations, they found a way to use the piece to power a tremendous craft that had the ability to leave their world. Gathering a great many people, they left their home behind. Another many generations lived and died on that craft as it traveled the stars. Then it came here. This planet was different than the others somehow. It canceled out the power of the Crystal and Glyphs, and the craft crashed. Without magic, our people had to rely on other means to survive. But they found very few resources in the rock of this world. It was then discovered that certain plants excrete a very powerful substance when threatened. Your Biolance runs on a super refined variant of it. They called it Bion. Bion changed everything, every aspect of life, some say for the worse. Many wanted to go back to the old ways, and cast off the Bion way of life. My Great-grandfather was one of those. They lived peacefully...until something was discovered that would shake the entire world of the Bions." Glyure paused, whether to be dramatic or just to get her breath, Ruben didn't know. Or perhaps she just didn't want to speak the next part.
"What was that?"
Glyure took a deep breath and held out her hand. "This," she said. A ball of pure light appeared over her hand, colors swirling in and out of its depths. It was beautiful.
"What is that?"
"Magic," Glyure answered. Ruben almost laughed before he saw that she was serious.
"But you said it wasn't possible."
"I said the Crystal's magic didn't work here. We found out why. It is not because it didn't work, it was smothered by this world's own magic. A magic that follows a different Way altogether. The old way could not survive, or maybe was just absorbed into this world. But either way, we thought it was gone until we relearned how to use it. It doesn't even need Glyphs to work. And so the Magus were created."
Ruben began to understand where this tale was going. "So you brought a new power into the world. The world of the Bions."
Glyure smiled, but it was a sad smile. "You see it, don't you? The Magus did not bring a new power, but awakened an old. Hate, fear, and war. At first, they were open about their new knowledge, and the majority of Bions ignored them. You see, it took dedication and hard work to master this new magic without the aid of the Glyphs, and most Bions had grown content and lazy with their power. But then some people began to realize the wonders the Magus could achieve, and began coming in greater and greater numbers. Then the Bions took note. They saw the Magus as the fall of their way of life, and it frightened them. The first attack came without warning. Many Magus died, for they had only used their powers for peace. They didn't stand a chance against those," she pointed at the Biolance, "Even though they were still in their early stages, they were still a devastating weapon. The war had started. That was two generations ago. I was born into this war, just as you were. Most Bions don't even understand how it started, being lied to by those in control. Much can be forgoten in just a few generations. They call us demon worshipers who gave their souls for power. Tales are told of us to frighten children, and those tales work just as well on adults. But perhaps we are a thing to fear now." Her ball of light flashed red, and suddenly flashed out of her hand to strike a tree stump a ways away. The stump exploded in a fury of splinters. "You see, we learned peace from this world, but we were forced to learn war from the Bions."
Ruben felt like he needed to sit down. It was a lot to absorb in such a short time. Was I ignorant too? Did I know the truth before this day? Which would be worse, fighting out of ignorance, or knowing the truth...but fighting still. He hoped he was the earlier. He did not know if he could live with himself being the latter. "So I am your enemy." It was not a question.
Glyure looked at the ground. "You were. I had hoped..." she trailed off.
"Dragun knew the truth, didn't he?"
Glyure turned her face away, but not before he saw the look of pain. "I don't wish to speak of that now. Please?"
"I won't speak of it again." Ruben said just as his stomach growled loudly. He hadn't eaten yet that day.
The Elfess turned back to him, a little smile quirking at her lips, fighting the saddness. "Some food may raise our spirits." With that, she began walking back to the mansion.
============
Little rehash, so we don't forget what was above.
Inventory:
Well tailored trousers (at the house)
Good quality, berry stained white shirt (at the house)
Leather boots
Dark green shirt
Brown leather jerkin
Slightly loose trousers
Equipped:
Leather boots
Dark green shirt
Brown leather jerkin
Slightly loose trousers
and wearing his boots of course
Status:
Healthy, knows a lot more of his past, but still doesn't remember it as his own.
Company:
Glyure... An Elfess with a whip and one less secret
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((:( It\'s embarassing, you\'re so much better at writing than I am... Good work though! I\'d prefer if you toned down the length though with your additions. Maybe a third of what you just posted.))
Glyure moved inside, quickly, and began making some stew.
Ruben sat down at the kitchen table and made an attempt at thinking it all over.
Glyure walked in and sat on the table, Rubens hand resting very close to her thigh.
((Sorry, I wasn\'t feeling in the mood for writing but just wanted to keep it moving. I\'ll do a longer post next time :())
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Noted. All future posts shall be shorter. :)
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((Awesome. It would be cool if someone could edit this and put in chapters, I couldn\'t seperate a solid story into chapters :S))
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[[The writer thinks for a for bit...more like a few days, as he has been rather busy lately. He knows where the story has been, but where should it go? He looks at the above post. And how to keep it short? Pondering those questions, he begins writing...]]
Ruben slowly moved his hand away and twined the fingers of his hands together, steepling his thumbs and first fingers under his chin. Somehow, it made him feel more thoughtful. He wished it did more than just make him feel thoughtful, for he thought he could use some pretty deep thoughts right about now. It was all he could do at that moment to try to ignore the sweet earthy scent drifting over to him.
[[ That seems to be a good start, though maybe some of those words are repeated redundantly. The writer gives a one-sided smirk at the thought, overly amused at himself, then types on, thinking that he could use some deep thoughts of his own, and that the narrator should use fewer run-on sentences.]]
"Glyure, you said..."
[[The writer stops. What exactly did she say again? He quickly scans the previous posts. Ah, yes. ]]
"...that we are -were- enemies. I mean...we aren't now...of course...but what I mean...you didn't....er...I don't..." Ruben continued stammering mixed jumbles of word together as Glyure smiled encouraging at him, which only seemed to make it worse. Finally, she put her hand on his arm, which besides effectively shutting his babbling the hell up, made the room feel a lot warmer.
[[Hey, I didn't start it, you did, the writer thinks accusingly at the other poster in this thread. I would have been fine with them just being friends. Of course, the writer does not seem to realize the others cannot hear him, nor how silly he looks having conversations in his head. You know I'm reading this, don't you? ...Point taken, please continue. Ahem, as I was writing... ]]
"Why didn't I kill you?" Glyure finished the sentence that he never quite started.
Ruben -afraid if he opened his mouth again, an avalanche of stupidity would ensue- simply nodded.
"Would it help if you knew I thought you were cute?"
Ruben shook his head, "No" even in his head, his voice sounded high pitched and panicked. 'Why would she say that now?'
[[Indeed, why? It does kinda come out of the blue. The writer looks at the screen in irritation, most likely directed at the narrator. The narrator -meaning me- , being simply a figment of the writer's imagination, does not worry, knowing that it cannot actually be harmed... You think so? Ouch! That hurt! Good, now if you will excuse me, I have a story to add to. At least let me write a hundred words before you interrupt. Fine. ]]
Glyure bit her lip, her cheeks turning a little red. "I don't know why I said that. Especially after what Moja-" her mouth snapped shut. She gave Ruben an accusing glare.
'Now what did I do?'
Seeming to hear his unspoken question, Glylure answered it, "Something about you unhinges my jaw. It also seems to affect my actions. Before yesterday, I would have thought nothing of letting you die. I even grinned when you were about to eat that berry. But then my whip was in my hand...and I'saved you. I don't even know why."
[[ The writer stops, getting the odd feeling that the narrator is counting words. Hey, I'm the narrator. You can't narrate me. Can?t I? It's against the rules. My head, my rules. Don't like it, leave. That's rich. Telling a figment of your imagination to leave. And where, exactly, would I go? Pittsburgh. That's not even funny. Whatever. You just wait until I tell you to narrate. Understand? Ya, ya, I got it. Just one more thing. What? 95. Smartass. ]]
Ruben glanced around, for the first time realizing he had never seen the aforementioned whip. Again, seeming to read his thoughts, Glyure spoke.
"It's in my room, in the closet." She must have seen something of Ruben's thoughts on his face...
[[Something that I'm sure half of the readers are thinking right now. You are all very disturbed individuals. Exactly. ]]
...for her face turned even more red. "The weapons closet. I hadn't taken it out since..." her voice trailed off.
It was Ruben's turn to read her mind this time, but he kept his observation quiet. 'Since Dragun fell.' Not wanting to bring up the hurtful subject again, he switched topics. "Who is this Mogic?" he asked, purposefully botching the name.
The tactic worked, bringing that smile back to her thin lips. "Mojag," she corrected, "He's just my go between. A messenger of sorts. He is the only one who knows where I am. So I guess you could call him my guardian too."
Ruben glanced down at the bruise forming on her hand from when she had hit the dwarf. Her eyes followed his.
"I never said I liked him."
[[Can I speak now? Yes. Good. Ahem... The writer reads through what he just wrote, and figures it may be a good place to stop. He also thinks that he should write some action in the next post he makes, as his writing is getting quiet boring. He also thinks he should fire his narrator. Ok, ok, I'll be nice, if they be nice. You didn't even get that quote right. Now shut up and let someone else post. Fine, but I don't know what anyone else is going to do with this muddle you've made. I am quite sure they are capable of something. One more thing, you forgot to keep it short. That was your fault. Post closed. ]]
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((Wow, that is just hilarious, UtM! Keep up the good writing and the narration too. :D ))
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:D Heh, heh. I thought that might get someone\'s attention. ;) Thanks!
[[Oh just great. Like he didn't have an ego problem allready.]]
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((!! I just want to read your posts now, you can take over if you want... I still love reading it though :)))
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[[The writer sits at his desk, listening to the annoying loud fan and whirring noises coming from his crummy PC. Clicking on the PS forums link in his favorites, he is whisked rather slowly to the forums. He sees that there are new posts in the RP forum, his favorite. Probably the only one. Indeed. He clicks on this thread and scrolls down. Oh crap. I couldn?t agree more. It's your own fault, you know. Shut it. Oh my, the great Moon is insulted, and all he can come up with is "shut it". It fails all reason why people still read your blithering ramblings. Why, if I where them?]]
Ruben slowly took his hands apart and placed them flat on the table. So she didn't kill him because she couldn't let him die?
[[I wasn't done insulting you. If you...]]
As near as he could figure, by what she had told him so far, she had been here in this mansion for nearly two years. Alone...
[[That is not funny. If you can't take criticism, then you shouldn't be...]]
...with no more company than the occasional visit of a man -a dwarf, he should say- that she didn't seem to like all that much...
[[Fine. You want it that way, I'm out of here. The narrator storms across the imaginary room to slam the imaginary door behind it with a resounding imaginary bang. Finally. Now that he/it/whatever is gone, I can write in peace. I guess I can continue with this story, as it seems I have taken over anyhow. Sorry about that. Anyways, I said some action, so some action it will be. With no interruptions.]]
A few things clicked in his head. She didn't kill me because she needs me. He didn't know if that thought was frightening or not. That depended on what she needed him for. She had said something about information to that dwarf. But she also seemed to be flirting with him an awful lot...though that may have been just another ploy to get him to trust her. He raised his eyes back to her face, only to find her studying him, her eyes deep pools of endless amber. What does she want? Why would she risk her life to bring me?
"Do you..." Glyure's voice was oddly pensive as she interrupted his thoughs. She took a deep breath. "Do you find me attractive?"
Ruben was sure his jaw would have dropped if not for the fact that every muscle in his body froze in an instant. Do I? Glyure rolled her shoulders in what Ruben perceived as nervousness. The graceful movement shifted her whole body in a way that answered the question for him. Oh god yes. Finding that he could move again, he stood slowly, her eyes following his movements from her perch on the table. His heart pounded, feeling as if it should spring forth from his chest as he leaned forward. Glyure's lips parted as her face slowly filled his vision, her eyes drawing him in. He felt her breath on his face as those eyes closed, her chin tipping upward, her lips waiting, eager. His own eyes closed.
The door burst open, crashing against the wall.
[[Like, OH...MY...GOD. I almost fainted. That was like sooo awesome when they were going to kiss. You are like the most romantic guy. Who the hell are you!? Me? I'm like your new narrator. The temp agency like sent me over when they like heard what happened. They like thought you could use like someone nicer. The writer blinks like in surprise. There's a temp agency? Like, it's your head, silly. Don't ask me, I just like work here. Greaaat. The narrator like smiles, showing the dimples in her cheeks. Thank you! At least I got someone with a gender this time. Sure did, silly. And cute besides. Is that my opinion or yours? The narrator winks. You need to like ask? Remember, like your head, your rules. The writer like rolls his eyes in the cutest way. Now what happens next? Pleeeeease tell me they kiss. The writer raises his right eyebrow. The door was just kicked in. What do you think? The narrator pouts, like looking cute even then. That doesn't mean they don't kiss. Just like a short one? No. You're mean.]]
Ruben's head whipped to the sound. A very short, very angry, bearded man stood in the doorway. What showed of the man's face turned a deep purple. "So t'is true! You dirty trull!"
Two completely unrelated thoughts flashed though Ruben's head at the same time. One of them being, 'So this must be Mojag.' The other, whether it happened to be about the interrupted kiss, or the dagger -his dagger- flying at his head, not even Ruben knew. 'Oh crap' .
[[The writer like stops, wondering if 'oh crap' is the best phrase to like use. The narrator thinks it fits fine, and refers to like the kiss. Who is writing this, you or I? Duh...you are oooobviously. Sometimes you writers are so stuck on yourselves. I though you were supposed to be nicer. I am nice. I'll prove it. The narrator like hops into the middle of the room in her cute little cheerleader outfit... Now that is your opinion. Guys don't find clothing 'cute'. The narrator rolls her eyes. Fine, Mr. Caveman, you want me to do my cheer or not? Not really. Good! Gimmie-a U! Gimmie-an N! gimmie-a D! That is enough. You just reminded me why I can't stand cheerleading. If you promise to never do that again, I will tell you a secret. Ok! I promise. Pinkie swear? Hell no. As long as you promised, here's your secret. They kiss...eventually. OOOOUUUUU! The narrator jumps up and down clapping her hands. Well, like get on with it. The more you write, the sooner they kiss! Oh bother. ]]
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((Nice!!! The narration has become half the story ;)))
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We left off with Ruben in a rather precarious predicament, if you will remember. Let's recap. Ruben is a soldier who has lost his memory. He has been rescued by a beautiful Dermorian Elfess who happens to be his greatest enemy. They are not in Yliakum, but their ancestors came from there. They both have secrets; his, he can't remember; hers, she won't reveal. Ruben owns a devastating, futuristic weapon called a Biolance and belongs to the Bions. Glyure controls the raw power of magic and is one of the Magus, who are hunted by the Bions. There is a strange attraction between them...ok, maybe not so strange, Ruben is a handsome soldier, Glyure is a lovely lady, you know the old story. They were about to kiss when a certain angry dwarf who was Glyure's only contact with the outside world, kicked the door down, called Glyure a not nice word, and heaved Ruben's dagger at his head. Which brings us to the predicament...
Too late, Ruben tried to throw himself out of the way, but the dagger struck him in the forehead, luckily hilt first, but still with enough force to cause a brief flash of dark and stars before his eyes. A moment later, he felt the floor collide with the back of his head, along with more dark stars. A random thought popped into his recently abused head. At least I will have matching bumps. Perhaps he would have found that more amusing if not for the angry dwarf standing on the table above him.
"Mojag stop!" Glyure screamed.
The dwarf ignored her, leaping from the table at Ruben, who rolled out of the way as boots hit the floor heavily where his head had been. Before he could move, a thick arm wrapped itself around his neck, cutting off his air. Ruben struggled against the iron grip as the now familiar dark stars filled his vision. I wonder what that kiss...
[[You ass! You like, didn't tell me you were going to post here again! I was hoping you wouldn't notice. If you would...what the... why am I writing in pink? The narrator sulks, a pretty pout on her face. I think it's pretty. And you like, hurt my feelings. You are a jerk. The writer rolls his eyes, making the narrator angry, which she has every right to be. Now that is your opinion again. Whatever. Now I like see why the last guy quit. It wasn't a guy. Enough with the semantics. Like, the point is, you could be like, nicer to me. A big tear rolls down the narrator's cheek. For crying out loud. Fine, just don't interrupt me. It's hard enough to write without you breathing down my neck. The narrator crosses her arms in irritation. That is not being nice. You better get on with the story before you show everyone just how much of a jerk you are. The writer lets out a large sigh. Where was I? The kiss. Oh yes, thank you for reminding me, my lovely lady. That is like not funny. Despite what the narrator like said, a slight blush forms on her cheeks. Oh bother. ]]
"She was mine!" a voice floated down into the darkness that is Ruben's mind. It should have meant something. But what...
Suddenly, the grip on his neck loosened, letting light into the dark. Throbbing filled Ruben's head, along with the realization that he just nearly died. He coughed and rolled away in case the dwarf was just pausing to pull a weapon, but no attack followed. He stopped and sat up to see Glyure standing over the dwarf, a look of shock on her face. Smoke rose from Mojag's back in thin tendrils, drifting lazily on the wind in counterpoint to the still body on the floor. Ruben struggled to his feet, blinking to clear his vision. Oh god, is he...? Glyure fell to her knees, disbelief painting a mask of horror on her beautiful face.
"Glyure? Are you...what..."
"I...no Magus has ever harmed another. I have destroyed all we stand for. For...for...a Bion." Her voice was tinged with anger towards the end.
Ruben was sure it was anger at herself, or Mojag. "You did what you had to. I..."
"Shut up! I didn't do what I had to. I did what I shouldn't have. I should never have brought you here," Glyure said, close to tears.
"You can't mean..."
Glyure shouted in anger and pain, "Stop! It is your fault! Get out! I never want to see you again!" Tears began running down her face. She refused to look at Ruben, burying her face in her arms instead. "Get out," she whispered one last time.
Ruben walked slowly to the door, Glyure's sobs following him the entire way. Something was amiss here. Why is she so upset over someone she didn't even care about. He closes the door softly, cutting of the sound of weeping. It was like cutting out his own heart. There was to much pain in her words and tears to account for what happened in there. And she blamed him. Or is she pushing me away? But why? Suddenly, like the locks of a Doddemy puzzle, several thoughts fell into place. Dragun. This must be about Dragun, and how he died. She had loved him, and...wait...what is a Doddemy puzzle?
[[You can talk now, I'm done for today. Oh thank you great one. The sarcasm is heavy in the narrator's voice. I kinda figured that out myself. You didn't have to write it. The writer is overly pleased with the twist he has placed in the plot. Oh come on. I wasn't that mean. Not even one 'like'? Bite me, buddy. You may like the way this is going, but I don't. You promised me a kiss, and if they don't do it, you had better pucker up, buddy 'cause you're paying up. The writer is taken aback. Ya, like you just wrote. I'm not sure how to respond to that. Then don't. Just like, write something better next time. With like, a kiss. The writer grins. That's my girl. Keep the 'likes' coming. As for you readers, I would like to give you a choice. Narrator, if you will?
These are like, the choices:
A. The dwarf is dead, and like, smells bad.
B. The dwarf is not dead, but like way hurt and needs help. And smells bad.
C. The dwarf is a bit crispy, but otherwise A-O-K and alive, but still smells bad.
PM or post your choice here so the great writer can continue with his fantastic tale. Oh woes us if he can not bask in the light of his multitudes of rabid followers.
You are kinda morbid, you know, and a little mean yourself with some of those comments. Well, it was like his fault for interrupting my kiss. And he does smell bad. You have just failed to like write it yet. Ok, just to please you, he will smell bad in the next post, dead or alive. Better? Much. Hey what's with the new sig, anyways? It's a secret. (sig has been changed since the original posting) Fine buddy, but you're writing in pink untill you tell me or they kiss. The writer takes a long pause. Can't I just get another narrator? That's cold.]]
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[[So, like, where were we? Oh! I, like, remember now. Since that Moony guy seems to have dumped this story, I’ll, like, take over. It is, like, about time you got some good writing anyways. His is so depressing and, like, un-kiss-full. -I- will be sure to fix that. On with where we left off…
Ruben pauses at the sudden vision of what must be, like, the Doddemy puzzle pops into his head. It is all shiny and puzzly, with parts that go together that at first glance look like they should not. The secret to one, he somehow knows, is to find the one piece that holds everything together. Without that piece, the puzzle would, like, all fall apart in your hands. He glances back at the door. Another question assaults his mind. What if Glyure was the Keypiece to the unknown puzzle of his life? If he left now, he, like, might never have his answers. He knows he has to go back for that, and because he knows he will never be able to forget the feel of her soft skin under his hands. He starts back to the door with squared, and very nice shoulders.
Glyure sobs into her folded arms as she, like, fights the storm of emotions inside her. She -killed- one of her own people, and for what? To, like, toss the reason she did it out the door at the first chance she got? It was hard to find the right guy, and maybe Ruben could have been him. In the end, she knew it was the right thing to do, killing Mojag. The stench of the dwarf’s smoldering clothing reminded her that he was still, like, just two steps away. How could such a horrid little man ever think she belonged to him? She likes tall guys with nice shoulders. Guys like Ruben. Guys like… Dragun. The thought of her lost love puts her into another fit of tears. Even after two years, it still hurt so much. She wanted to touch him so bad again, that maybe it, like spilled over into her feelings for Ruben.
A sound brings all Glyure’s thoughts to a stop. It is the sound of heavy breathing, and the scrape of boots on the floor. Ruben…is he back? The thought sets her heart aflutter. But turning, she sees not the handsome young man she wishes for, but the short, ugly, and very smelly Mojag wobbling as he stands with a ball of light forming in his right hand. The light is, like, red and threatening., and not at all pretty like the one she had made before. It is, like, a dangerous spell! In her state of mind, she knows she will not have the will of time to form her own before his strikes and kills her. The only thing she can think is the wish for, like, that one last kiss.
The door bursts open as Mojag’s Firelight is almost finished. A tall man stands framed in streaks of sunlight as a rush of wind blows his hair out of his eyes. “Glyure, I will not leave you!,” he says in, like, the most heroic and romantic way… WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!
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Oh oh. Damn straight, ‘oh oh’. Just what do you, 'like’ think you are doing? Well… you stopped writing the story without my kiss, so I was just going to… Oh no you are not. I am the only writer in my head. You even violated my rule about only one character’s mind per post. Another few sentences, and who knows what kind of sap-fest this would have turned into? And why am I still writing in PINK? The narrator gets a big pouty lip and… Don’t even start with that. The narrator feels reeeeeeeeeeeealy bad about this, and just wanted to hear more of the story, and to have a voice again. Oh…well, sorry about that. If it means so much, I will add more to this tale, though it is quite old now. The narrator jumps up with a dimpled smile. I knew it would, like, work. The writer’s eyes narrow. You are a sly one. You know that, don‘t you? And cute too! With that, the writer decides to post what the narrator wrote, despite his thoughts that it was written by a deranged- Hey! That’s ME you are thinking about, there, buddy. Post closed. Thank god.]]
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[[The writer comes home from work on the coldest day of the year, and bundles up before the frosty glow of his monitors. His fingers begin their slow dance of tapping as his eyes dart back and forth from screen to keys as IRC ticks comments off in the background. Nicely put, and no ‘likes’ at all. Now all I have to do is figure out how to straighten out this muddle my hormonally disturbed narrator has… Hey, you what to talk in pink forever, buster? Er…point taken. You are the boss. Where do we go from here? Despite his words, the writer still has passing thoughts of what the cost of shipping an imaginary narrator would be, one way to Pluto. Get out of my thoughts. I have writing to do. Cripes, where to start… ]]
Ruben realized from the moment he stepped through the door that he must look and sound like a complete fool. (pardon, but the story will be switching to past tense from now on. It is just easier to keep track of that way. Gar…pink.) The bright sun from outside dimmed his sight to the darker interior of the room, so it took a moment to see the dwarf behind Glyure with what seemed to be a flaming ball of light in his hand. It took another moment to see the dwarf’s eyes widen in surprise, though that did not stop the fireball from turning towards Ruben. He only had the time to gasp before the magic shot forth from Mojag’s stubby fingers to strike him directly in the chest. Lights and darkness combined before Ruben’s eyes as the feeling of being weightless filled him. Then all went black.
[[Like, the hell? Did you just off Ruben? You can’t just go and do that! What about the secrets and the story and my damn KISS? You can’t DO this to me! I am SOOO going to… Settle down, lady. Everyone knows I never kill off the main character. Just wait and see.]]
Far away in a tall city of gray stone and green-roofed towers, a man gazed into a glass bowl of what looked like green lit water, except there seemed to be no source for the light besides the water itself. A smile lit his face as the light changed to blue. He tuned to an empty corner of the room and spoke only three words, “He is active.” What had seemed an empty corner just moments before shifted and bent as a man shape stood from its death-still crouch, its clothing still holding the image and colors of the place it had just resided. In a few heartbeats, the image shifted to perfectly mimic what was now behind the man, making him completely vanish once again. A blurring marked his head as he nodded, then strode out the open door. To any observer, it would have seemed as if part of the wall had duplicated itself and walked away. The other man turned back to the glowing water, seeming to take no note of the figure. He just smiled again. “Two years is too long for you to hide, Glyure. You will not escape this time.”
[[The writer leans back and calls it a night. It is too cold to write anyways. Wait. That is, like, all I get? ‘Fraid so. You are cruel. The writer just grins. Jerk.]]
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[[So now, time for another short recap. I shall let the narrator do the honors, since pink hurts my eyes and lifestyle. The narrator, like, rolls her eyes, but starts the recap anyways. Ruben is, like, this soldier guy from the way future of Yliakum He owns a high-techy gun thing that runs on radioactive plant goo, but he does not have it right now, like, because this other character, a badassed elf chick with a whip, does. Anyways, she found him in the woods and saves his life, because he had zero memories. It happens to be that they are enemies, though they are being all nice due to the no memories thing, and Ruben kinda has the hots for Glyure (the elf chick) anyways. Are you doing this just to irritate me? Tone down the ditzy cheerleader act just a bit. We all know you are smarter than that. The narrator coughs to hide a smile. Nice of you to notice. Very well. In short: Ruben is being protected by Glyure, who feels a strange and almost compelling attraction to the man. Mojag, Glyure’s protector and only contact to the outside world, is very jealous of this, and has tried to kill Ruben twice now. We left the story right at the second attempt. The writer also added in what he thought was a clever twist in the form a shadowy figure who seems to know something about who knows what. And there was a very creepy chameleon person as well, but his role is uncertain. On with the story.]]
Memory… that is all Ruben could think of it as, a wave, no, an enormous wall of crashing memory. It all came back at once, drowning out any thought, any feeling. Memory was all. Back…
The jump had not gone quit as planned. The young soldier dangled far from the ground under the strings of his skysail, which was a mangled mass of twisted fabric in the branches above him. His biolance and supplies had been ripped off his black fallsuit by a lone tree two hills back. that is where things had started to go wrong. A night jump was tricky enough without trying to skim low over the trees, but his night vision specks going out at just the wrong time made it impossible.
The soldier pulled out his elite knife -his only remaining weapon- and started cutting the cords. The lance and supplies would have to wait until morning. He cut a few more cords, already planning how he would search out his quarry. The mission was to be simple. How hard could it be to take down one woman, even if she was one of those Magus? A cold smile crossed his face. Any Magus who tried to use their demon-spawned powers on him would be in for quite a shock. That was his last thought before a branch snapped overhead, plummeting him into the clutching darkness below.
Memory raged. Back…
“This is your first mission. It is what you were trained for. You will not fail.”
“Yes Sir. I will not fail.”
Ruben knew the confident voice of the second man. It was his own. He stood facing another man with a long, peeked face and dark features. The man stood stiffly, fairly reeking of discipline and order. The man turned and continued his stiff-strided pace back and forth across the tidy room. He talked as he moved, clicking his boots at every turn.
“Your target will be an Elfess Magus,” he said ‘Magus’ with a tone of high contempt, “We have been trying to capture her for some time now, but she always manages to slip away. You will not less this happen.”
“No Sir, it will not.”
The elder man paused his strides again. “Do not be overconfident. Before she vanished two years ago, she turned one of our own against us. Dragun was one of our best. Remember that.”
Ruben frowned. This was the first he had heard of other missions to capture this demon worshiper, or of this traitor, Dragun. The mission took on a new tone in his eyes. This is where he would finally prove himself, and the worth of the Project. In fact, the Project was even more important than Ruben himself. If he failed, it would all end.
“Yes Sir. I understand, Sir.”
The man continued his pacing. You will be dropped in from the north to where our scouts followed the dwarf before they lost sight him. Ruben committed every detail to memory, even though he was only half listening. Hi thoughts were filled with visions of himself and his brothers marching acros the lands, and relentlessly hunting down these Magus. Mercy…he did not know the meaning of the word.
Memory pounded in. Something was screaming inside Ruben as he fought to keep the deluge out. Back…
Ruben brushed the soot from his arm. No burn, though that was no surprise. He grinned at the shock on the face of slim elf before him.
“That….that is impossible…” the man whispered in pure disbelief.
Ruben just smiled larger and looked up at the large window overhead. That is where his superiors watched from. The enclosed training field was now familiar to him, but he could never get used to the thought of those men staring at him from that window. Those men…his fathers.
“Very good, Number Three,” came the familiar voice over the horn.
“Shall I finish him, Sir?” Ruben asked. He had never actually killed anyone before. Something inside him shied away at the thought, but he stomped it down. If this is what it took to prove himself to these men, then he would do it. He flexed his hands, thinking of the endless ways he knew to kill a man. The elf looked at him with open terror.
“No, Ruben, that will not be necessary. We have yet to interrogate this demon follower. He is a key man in our enemy ranks, and has -much- to tell us.”
Ruben swallowed the distaste that formed in his mouth. He had seen these interrogations before, and had no wish to be a part of them. The man was better off dead. By the end of the day, the victem would sell his own mother to make them stop. Ruben almost felt pity… if not that he knew the Magus did ten times worse. Not only that, he had been told they could reach right into your mind, and make your nightmares come to life.
“You will not have me!” the elf shouted. Before Ruben could react, a small, red light formed in the man’s hand, but instead of shooting at Ruben as it had last time, he thrust into his own forehead. Fire exploded from the man’s face, incinerating his hand. The thick stench of burning flesh filled the air.
Ruben walked slowly to the man and looked down at what was left of his head. He glanced down at his arm where only his uniform had been burned off, but the skin was healthy and unscarred. A sick feeling overtook him. So that is what it was supposed to do. He glanced up at the window. They must have known this test would work…they must have.
Memory exploded into Ruben’s mind. Back…back…back…to the beginning.
Red light filled the space around him. There was no thought, as he did not know thought yet. There was no feeling, as he did not know feeling. There was only sight, the light, and the thick fluid around him. Slowly, the fluid began to flow away until he was laying naked in the glass coffin. Then he felt two things, cold, and fear. Figures surrounded him, making noises he would not understand until much later.
“Congratulations, it seems as if your little experiment worked. Not bad for only the third attempt.”
“You should never have doubted me. He will prove invaluable in the destruction of the Magus, just as I promised.”
Another voice joined in. “So you -really- believe he will be completely resistant to the powers of the Magus.”
“Of course. You have seen the preliminary tests. He will be unstoppable.”
A forth voice entered the circle. It was stiff and dignified. “So, how long before it is ready for combat?”
“Well, Sir, with the direct mental image training I developed, I would say less than a week.”
“Good, good. I have just the mission. We may have located Glyure again, and I do not want to risk any real soldiers going after her this time.”
“Sir, he is a real person. If you would look…”
“Enough! Anything that can be created and fully trained in less than two weeks is not, and never will be, equal to a true man. Get it ready. The mission is in one week.”
“Yes Sir. He will be ready.”
All but one of the figures left the room where the new man lay shivering. The remaining figure placed something soft and warm over him.
“We will prove to them you are greater than all of them, won’t we… hmm. You are going to need a name. Experiment Three is a thing’s name. You are a man. Ruben… I had a son named Ruben, once…”
[[Oh…my…god. That is just…I don’t even have words. What a twist! You are sooooooooo insane. Is that a good or bad thing? I am not telling. So, how much longer until the ki… end of the story? I would say one more post should end this part, and folks can make up the rest on their own. The writer looks cold and tired, so ties this part up and posts.]]
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is it ok if im just reading the bits in brackets :sweatdrop:
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[[Hey folks. It has been a while, but I hold up on my promises to finish stories. You know how I can’t stand leaving one unended. Gah. I hate writing in pink. Hey muffin, are you here?
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…
Damn. On with the story.]]
The tree trunk seemed to pull away from itself an drift to one side in some semblance of a man shape …only once it had moved, the original tree still remained. Even as the wayward trunk moved, it doppelganged flawlessly with everything behind it, shifting from trunk to rock to grass and back to trunk again as it paused at the next tree. A smaller section of the shifting shape tipped upwards. One would be hard pressed to call the thing a head, but the way it glanced to and fro left no uncertainties that it was searching relentlessly. A low hiss escaped the creature as the dangling ropes of a skysail caught it’s attention. Only the most naive of persons would doubt that the next hiss befouling the air was anything but that of morbid pleasure and the thrill of the hunt…
[[A bus pulls up in the writer’s mind, letting out, like, the very cute cheerleader narrator in a brand new outfit and hot-pink high heels, while carrying an assortment of bags and boxes. Oh, there you are. Where have you been? The narrator winks. Shopping of course, silly. In my head? And you took the bus? Well, how else am I supposed to get to the mall? There are, like, a lot of empty spaces you have to cross to get anywhere in here. Har har. I see you have lost none of your bright and sunny attitude, and caring spirit. Like, thanks! The narrator does not, like, miss the sarcasm, but smiles anyways and pulls out a very cute pink-flowered hat. Hold up. Now -that- did not come out of my imagination. Have you been visiting Draklar’s head? The narrator giggles. You are funny. Now, shouldn’t you be getting back to the story? Oh, and here is your credit card back. I might have over-maxxed it a -teensy- bit, but I’m like sure you won’t mind a talk with your imaginary banker and lawyers. Great…at least let me stop writing in pink. The narrator smiles, showing her dimples. Like, less talk and more writing, and maybe you won’t notice as much. You are not helping much. Fine. Back to writing, oh princess. Don’t get snarky]]
Ruben’s consciousness returned quickly after his deluge of memories. He knew who he was now, and he knew his mission. His eyes snapped open to the sound of a scuffle to his right. There, Glyure and Mojag struggled to overcome one another in a desperate fight of twisting arms and short kicks and punches. As Ruben sat up and rolled into a crouch, Glyure finally got the upper hand as she twisted the dwarve’s hand behind his back and wrapped her other arm around his neck.
“You killed him, you bastard!” Glyure whispered viciously, though tears fell from her eyes, “You killed him.”
Ruben struggled with his mind and body as new and old memories fought and collided in perhaps an even more deadly battle than his eyes witnessed. Still half dazed, his eyes drifted down to the large hole burnt into his shirt directly over his heart. The skin was untouched. The memories were true. All true. Spotting his Biolance laying in a corner, he shook of the last of the fog in his head. He knew what had to be done now. Time felt as if it stood still as his hands closed on the weapon he had practically been born with only two weeks ago. It felt as part of him as he flipped up the panel and adjusted the power level. It was part of him as he turned and aimed at the struggling elfess and feebly kicking dwarf.
[[Oh, you had BETTER not! Hush, and leave this to the professionals.]]
“Glyure, stop,” Ruben said in a hard voice.
Glyure froze, her arm around Majag’s neck loosening enough for the dwarf to take a gasp of air. Her eyes slowly came around to rest upon Ruben, filing with shock, confusion, and joy all in a jumble.
“Stand away from the dwarf,” Ruben ordered. Mojag still had some use, and it would do no one if she killed him.
Glyure seemed to notice the hole in his shirt for the first time, and fear began filling her eyes. Uncertainty filled her movements as she let the dwarf slip for her grasp and slowly stood up. Mojag coughed and clutched his throat.
“What…do you mean to do with me?” Glyure asked quietly, her eyes staring at the Biolance’s fuel rod as she licked her lips nervously.
“I am not going to allow you to kill the dwarf. I am going to need all the help I can get if I am to help free our people.”
“Our…people?”
Ruben finally lowered his weapon, knowing he would not have to use it to stun either Glyure or Mojag, who still was unable to gain his feet.
“Yes. Those were I come from are prisoners just as much as you are fugitives. We are all the victims of the powermad. You showed me that. I…thank you.”
Glyure took a hesitant step forward. “You…remember then?”
“Yes. Every lie they ever told me. Every second of my…life. My creator…my father…he knew this day would come. He just could never tell me.” Ruben glanced over to Mojag. “Are you done trying to kill me, or can we have a reasonable talk?”
The dwarf looked up to see the still smoldering hole in Ruben’s shirt, his eyes going wide. All he could manage was a weak nod.
“I’ll *cough* give ye no more troubles.”
“Good,” Reben’s gaze went back to Glyure, emotions that had never been taught to him flooding out any of his training, “We have much to talk about…and little time. When this was done,” he stops to motion at the hole in his shirt, “a magic beacon was set to trigger. One of my…brothers will be on his way.”
[[Hold on there. How is Glyure ever going to kiss him now when he is acting like sooooo cold? He just had to remember being someone else, and being trained as a cold blooded killer. Give him a break. Well, you could have made him a -bit- more cute and cuddly. I don’t take requests. Don’t worry your pretty head. He will warm back up. When? You said like one more post should finish this story. Hmmm. That. Well, I also said I would be able to finish Chain of Souls in four. You know you just can’t trust a guy with imaginary people in his head. Touché .]]
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[[Time to tie this up, don’t you think? You are asking me? Well, yes. Um…it could, like…go on for a few more posts, couldn’t it? I mean, there is a lot more to tell, right? The narrator looks down and kicks the ground a few times. You seem worried. I…um…. Once the story is over, you won’t need me anymore, will you? The narrator looks dismal and tiny. Stop that. No using descriptions as a weapon. Worry not, we shall work something out. The narrator brightens somewhat. Well then, like on with it! You still, like, owe me a kiss.]]
The day began to pass once more into night, bringing with it the cold doubts of darkness and fear. The wind was ever so still, giving not a rustle to the masses of leaves clinging to the trees outside the hidden mansion. It was the quiet of death. And in that quiet, Death was coming.
[[Ooooh. I like that. Shhh. Don’t break the flow.]]
“You are sure he…it is coming?” Glyure asked in a low, tremulous voice that pieced the silence seemingly more than any shout could. She winced at the sound of her own voice, quickly searching the dimly outlined forest for movement beyond the small stack of firewood that was their only barrier.
“It is,” was all Ruben said in return, though he reached out his hand to give hers a comforting squeeze. He could not tell her exactly how close it really was. He could not tell her that it was coming… as it was already there. The thing was crafty, and completely silent. If he had not known it was out there, he likely would not have noticed it at all. Only his sensitivity to the power of the magus even let him know where it was. There. It was moving again. The time was now.
“Mojag,” Ruben stated calmly, “Check the path behind the house, and make a circuit of the shrine.”
Mojag’s eyes widened slightly in fear, but he nodded and squared his shoulders before trudging off around the building. Ruben felt Glyure’s hand tighten in his, though her look never changed. Internally, Ruben nodded to himself. She was doing well. He hoped that he could protect her well enough in the moments about to come. Giving her hand one last squeeze, he stood up and turned around, putting his back to the woods…to where it waited.
“Well, I think we are safe for the night. I’ll bar the doors and windows, while you take last watch,” Ruben said, trying not to grind his teeth. He had never felt so exposed in his life, short as it had been, but it was necessary. In moments it would all be over, one way or the other.
“Wait,” Gylure whispered.
Getting up from behind the firewood wall, she reached up to pull Ruben’s head down. She paused for a moment, looking deep into his eyes, then closed her eyes and placed her lips on his. The kiss only lasted for the space of a breath, but it seemed to say all that was ever needed.
Ruben took a deep breath as Glyure hunched back down behind the wall. Perhaps he was human after all. Closing his eyes, he started to walk back towards the open door of the mansion. It was only twenty steps away… seventeen…. fifteen…twelve….seven… Ruben stopped. That was all the warning the thing was going to have. Ruben could see nothing but red as blinding light tried to pour through his closed eyelids. Immediately, he dropped to the ground and rolled to one side, only to hear something scream on agony and land heavily where he had just stood. Rule one of combat. Cripple your foe’s strongest asset. the thing had been aiming for Ruben… but they had been aiming for the thing’s sight. Ruben’s eyes popped open as the light quickly faded. He glanced over to see Glyure’s hand still out from the Lightflash spell she had cast. She was safe. His attention flashed back to the…something kicking up dust as it flailed at what must have been it’s eyes, though the entire thing looked like a piece of dark forest come to life. In moments, though, it quickly began to change, blending in with the dusty path it rolled in, shrieking out its pain.
“Bloody stones!” Mojag’s voice called from the dark doorway, just as planned, followed by streaks of shimmering biolance bolts that pounded into the thing on the ground. Round after round pummeled the creature as its shrieks transformed into bubbling coughs. The thing started lurching towards the doorway, and the Dwarf outlined by muzzle flashes inside.
“Die, ye unholy spawn!!” the stout dwarf cried, continuing to pull the trigger as fast as he could. As the thing reached the door, despite the constant barrage, he gave up on firing and brought the butt of the Biolance down on the thing’s ‘head’ as hard as his considerable dwarf strength could. The creature dropped to the ground with the sickening crunch, trembled once… then was still. For long moments, only the sound of sizzling flesh disturbed the quiet of the night.
“Well… ain’t that be the Enki’s tail in the morning? Yur plan worked,” Mojag finally spoke, poking the thing with a steel-bound boot toe.
“Experiment two in the Dyna class warrior project,” Ruben responded, “Heavy assault infantry. Not very smart, but an excellent tracker and crafty fighter. Lucky for us, the only one ready for field use so far.”
“There be more of them?”
“Yes. Their gestation is far longer than mine. We’ll be seeing more of them in the coming months.”
“We?” Mojag question doubtfully.
“Yes, Mojag,” Glyure answered softly, her eyes avoiding the dead shape on the ground, “If you intend to come with us. It is not safe here anymore. And…”
“And we have work to do,” Ruben finished. “Unless you want your fellow Magus to fight those without warning? I offer you a pact and allegiance.”
Ruben extended his hand to the barrel-shaped dwarf…
Generations later, a story is often told to young children, and a vague history is taught to students. No one is sure what really happened in those dark years of fire and death, but legend tells the story without doubt. Out of the smoke and ashes of countless battles, three figures always emerged to crush the ravaging hordes. A mighty Dwarf hero, cleaving his way through all foes with axe, magic, and Lance. The Elven Princess, lifting the sprits of all with both her unrivaled beauty, and her fierceness in battle. And finally, the man who could walk through fire without getting burned, his cold calmness in the heat of battle striking fear into the hearts of his foes more than anything else. But at the end of each story, history, or legend, the tale ends the same. Out of smoke and fire, freedom was born, and Magus and Bion became one.
[[I guess that is the end, huh? Yes. The rest is history. Hey. Red? The narrator blushes and looks at the ground. I thought it would be, like, a nice goodbye, and you did finally get to that kiss. Though it could have, like, been better. Never can please you, can I? The writer gives a one sided grin. Now that is just teasing! But it is time for goodbye. I’ll miss being a narrator in your head…a little. Well then, I guess you won’t mind being a new character of mine either, will you? LIKE, OH MY GOD! Are you serious?! Would I lie to an imaginary person? The narrator is speechless… For once … but the smile on her face says all that is needed. And with that, folks, see you in the next story!]]
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Brilliant writing, UtM. I haven't seen the likes of it in a while. :thumbup: Thank you for this piece of literature. What i would like next to see maybe would be a co-op post like this one, maybe about the Magus-Bion war or somethin. That would be cool! Anywho, excellent work, UtM, and 40 pancakes as well.