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PostPosted: Thu Sep 11, 2008 3:31 am 
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Post any entry passages here.

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PostPosted: Thu Sep 11, 2008 5:05 am 
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Rose Allensi was having a bad fucking day. He - that's right, he - had been woken up at six in the morning to help out some stupid soldier that had been shot, then he'd had to assist in the treatment of several terminally ill patients at the nearby hospital, all with his rather meager knowledge of modern medicine, and now, here he was, standing toe to toe with a motherfucking dragon. A dragon who'd just called him a "her".

"Didn't you hear me, little thing?" The large, scaled (but not reptilian, dragons are warm-blooded) creature hissed through clenched teeth, enunciating each word as clearly as it could with its rather un-human vocal chords and mouth structure, "I said, run along little girl, and stop taunting big dragons with little swords."

"Okay, enough's enough! I am not a girl, okay! Sure, my name is Rose, and sure, I'm kind of girly looking, but I'm two-hundred and fifty years old - give or take a few decades - and if you don't get your fat, scaley ass moving, I'm going to have to ram my 'little sword' right up it. We clear?" His cheeks were flushed bright red, which the dragon thought only made him look cuter.

The massive scaled beast sat back on its haunches and sniffed the air, flaring out its wings slightly as rows upon rows of swords began sprouting up from the ground, each of which glowed with an intense mystical energy. He grinned, then, as much as his species can, showing off rows upon rows of wickedly sharp teeth that could easily rend the flesh from the bones of whales. With a casual sweep of his claws, Rose was sent flying, hurtling thirty feet before hitting a nearby concrete wall hard, leaving a distinct dent.

He groaned and rose to his feet shakily, blood dripping down his face and over his tattered shirt, "Damnit, I'm really, really not in the mood for this!"

With a yell, he stomped his foot, each of the swords that had sprouted around the dragon started rising upwards, floating in a circle around it, "See, I lied. I'm not as old as I said. I'm seventeen, this time. I've been dying over and over for the last two-hundred and fifty years, and every time, I come back and get stuck in this same stupid body, with this same stupid name, and I'm sick of it. So you're not going to kill me, you're going to leave, or you're going to die. Look at the swords around you. Caliburn, Excalibur, Gram, Hrunting and Naegling, Caladbolg, Fragarach, Lævateinn, Tyrfing, Clarent and more. Ancient swords, powerful swords. And they're mine. Swords are my weapons. Any sword I've seen, I can copy and control. You do not want to fuck with me. Got it!?"

The dragon roared and flared its wings out wider, knocking the floating blades aside and stomping forwards, its long and powerful tail lashing around behind him, knocking down trees and small buildings that got in its way. Rose went wide eyed, gesturing with his hands as several of the powerful blades flew at the dragon's hide, piercing scales and flesh but piercing nothing vital. The massive beast's claws crashed down next to him as he rolled aside, but for something of its size, it was freakishly fast, its other clawed fist lashing out to the side.

"Oh shit, not now." Rose gasped as he felt those claws bite into his side and dug deep, piercing organs and rending flesh as was sent tumbling along the ground, leaving him on the brink of death, "Here we go again..."

A blink of light and he was gone, all his swords vanishing with him. Somewhere else in the world, a baby was born. A baby that would grow to be an effeminite boy called Rose.

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PostPosted: Thu Sep 11, 2008 8:06 am 
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Location: New Saris, Northern Aralonia
As he stood atop his perch, looking down, he sighed and nodded to himself. If this is what it has to come down to? Let it come down to it. The city below him and below the skyscraper, sprawled out, while blinking, pulsating with soft blue lights leaking into the sky, probably ruining the use of any space-pointed telescope within tens of miles. The cool air of the night sky wafted up the side of the building, adding mood by pushing the figure's coat to and fro. Brownian motion? Something like that.

The sound of automobiles and car horns started to fade away as memories flooded back into his mind of a similar vantage point – soft green being reflected into the sky from the trees and grass, yellowish white off the sides of the school's buildings. The smell of slightly damp, cut grass, of sun-baked concrete. The sound of children yelling and playing could even be heard, in this precious memory.

All of that was lost.

This is what now is.

He turned his head up, snapping back to reality and looked into the distance. A disturbance in the city finally appeared, as a sort of a warm, pulsating field that slowly began to expand and spread across the city, through the streets, eating the buildings, slowly. The issue was that only certain people could see these fields, due to a sort of strange radiation or some other business, a direct cause of their origins. “Dimensional travelers” was the name they used for themselves, a simple name, for their role and purpose. The people who knew about them, though, had a different name. The Unwanted.

Well, fuck you all too, he thought, as he decided to jump off the building, it's not like I ever wanted to be here.

After an otherwise highly uneventful scene of rooftop bounding that may have looked better in a movie or televised form, the boy stopped on the edge of a building. Staring at the field in front of him – a park, really, like one of those inner-city parks with the fountain, the grass, the flowers, and the KEEP THE HELL OFF signs – he sighed and took a step forward, off the building.

The bad news was that gravity still worked as normal, and so he fell.

The good news was that he fell into a pocket dimension.

As he emerged from the sky, he offered a sad smile at the all-too-familiar sights. Pocket dimensions of this weak magnitude generally took the forms of the environment they appeared in.

Reminders, fragmented memories of a green, vibrant campus, suddenly pulsed into grey and transformed into a dark wasteland.

He cursed to himself and shoved the memories out of his vision, trying to focus on the task at hand. It's probably rather important to notice that you're falling out of the sky. He kicked like a boy on a swing, shifting himself to point his feet down, and thought happy thoughts about not becoming a red stain on the concrete below. A shimmering field of particles began to coalesce around his legs, followed by a flash of light as they were compressed into a blade-like shape. He shifted his focus slightly as the leg blades began to vibrate and emit thrust, using them as makeshift thrusters to ease himself onto the ground, landing rather gracefully for someone who just fell out of the sky. He glanced around the pocket dimension with half-closed eyes just to see the differences.

“So, you've come to join me, haven't you?” A generically cloaked figure appeared out of a generic swirling black portal on the ground, cutting a bit of a contrast to the boy standing across the park walkway, wearing highly casual clothing – patterned button-down shirt, cargo pants, and his aforementioned coat.

“Nah. I'm just bored. Wandered my way in.” The boy grinned as he looked up and allowed the cold light from the streetlamps to glint off his glasses.

“Little boys shouldn't be wandering around a dangerous city like this, you know.” The cloaked figure removed his hood to reveal a face – a highly generic boy, again, jet-black hair in a layered look, black eyes. It's as if the author had no creativity whatsoever.

“Yeah, I know. So why're you here, huh?” The boy turned his head to look directly at the other cloaked figure, to get a good look. “I thought you died in the destruction event.”

The boy laughed. “Come on, Daniel! You think I'd die that easily? You forget who I am!”

Daniel continued staring though his half-closed eyes and sighed sadly. “No, I really don't. Come on. Join us, come back to us, Mike. There's no reason to fight me. Lots of people are waiting for you to come back. You don't have to fight your classmates anymore.”

Mike smiled wickedly and began to laugh. “Why do I have to join your side? Because you said so?”

Daniel smiled back, starting to grin. “Yeah, pretty much. It's pretty much a CONVERT OR DIE, MOTHERFUCKER! sort of situation. Dear Haruhi, I sound like a Christian. You know how it is. Well, at least I gave it a shot.” He slid a voice recorder out of his pocket and turned it off. “Now I have an excuse to kill you without anyone getting mad. You know how it is!”

Daniel summoned the leg blades again, as well as another shimmering force blade into his right hand, and boosted towards Mike, who raised a palm to shoot a stream of fire at his assailant. Daniel in turn raised his left hand and blocked with a particularly large, also brightly shining force shield, thrusting forward with his blade. And thus, a duel began.

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<+AirHippo> Funnily enough, folks who abide by the law and try to make something of their lives don't appreciate the rich kids of rich parents getting away with murder and skimming through life.


Last edited by Aralonia on Wed Sep 17, 2008 1:11 pm, edited 5 times in total.

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PostPosted: Thu Sep 11, 2008 8:30 am 
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“What a glorious day.”

It was sunset, sometime mid-fall, and the only noise was the loud banging of drums, as the whole city held its breath, waiting for the sun to finally set.

As the sky finally darkened to black, the Queen’s palace gates opened, and the festival began. The revelers flooded out onto the street, dressed in feathers and scales, real for the poor and intricate illusions for the rich. Throughout the city the streets began to fill with singers, dancers, mages and vendors, as the festival of the cycle began

From in front of the palace, came the sound of a phoenix’s cry, as the queen slowly walked through the front gate. The last cycle’s queen had held on to her throne even after the era of the phoenix had begun, resulting in death and decay throughout the city. The new queen was young, popular, and, most importantly, blessed by the Phoenix. The people of the city loved her, and as such, she was guarded lightly. The people would protect her as well as, if not better than, any guards could, as they surrounded her, reached out to touch her, hoping that with just a touch they could get some of her luck, her beauty, her grace. From the alleyway nearby, there was an explosion, a man’s head popping like a balloon, leaving streaks of blood all over the alleyway walls. Spells kept the blood from spreading, beyond the alley, and those in it grimaced, pulled the blood out of their clothes (or simply rewove the illusion) and continued dancing, singing, and trying to reach the queen.

_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________

“She did WHAT?”

“I told you she can sense metal!” Vlad responded angrily, rolling a dagger between his fingers.

“You didn’t tell me she could kill people like that!”

“Oh and how was I supposed to know?” Vlad said, considerably calmer this time. He had always taken an inordinate amount of pride in being the calm one in any conversation. “Most nobles aren't quite suicidal enough to show off their magic where the Jhereg can see.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I guess I’ll do it myself” Said the other figure in the room, sounding amused. She started to walk out of the room, her face covered by a plain gray cloak. As she walked out of the door, she started to hunch over, her brown hair turning to a grayish white, her voice getting old and cracked. “You do know you’re only getting half now, right?”

“Of course.”

_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________

The queen was happy. Despite the usual failed assassination attempts (they just didn’t seem to get the whole “detect metal” thing… did they?) they day was progressing well. The big names of the city had all already shown up to give her their oath of loyalty, and once this last group of civilians was done trying to touch her (which had led to a couple of unfortunate events, but they had learned fast enough) she could head back to the palace. Looking down, she was surprised to see an old woman near the front of the crowd, but, she thought, it was thinning out enough that she couldn’t really be surprised.

Walking back to the palace, the queen heard a gasp of amazement to her left. Looking off, in the sky, she saw a jhegaala, a smaller one, about a meter long, flying off, its bright feathers trailing behind it. “A good sign” she thought to herself, just than noticing a small cut on her arm. “Probably just a fingernail” she thought, laughing a bit, and walked back to the palace amid the roars of the crowd.

_____________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________

Laughing quietly to herself, Keira flew off, above the ocean, back to her home. She was satisfied. Vlad would be more than happy with the gold she had left him, probably able to start a new life. And, sighing happily as she felt the queen's orb finally reach her, and heard the funeral bells toll back in the distance, she would probably be able to do the same. "What a glorious day.""


Last edited by lightstriker on Sat Nov 15, 2008 12:02 pm, edited 7 times in total.

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PostPosted: Thu Sep 11, 2008 8:53 am 
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Svard Bjarnson was your typical employee of the month. So committed to his job that he changed his name to something that would better suit his employer: IKEA.

It had been a boring day so far, but it was tolerable, if only for the discount merchandise he received. Today, he grabbed a steak knife of the shelf, and placed it in his pocket.

"Probably a bad place to keep it, as far as future generations are concerned, but it's only a five minute walk home," he thought.

He polished his nametag a little bit, then headed out the door.
---
Svard was 23 years old, and enjoying life. He stopped to say hello to terrified cats on the way home, his neck length blonde hair jumping around as he walked. He slapped a stop sign, and nearly got hit by a car while jaywalking. But that was what living was about, wasn't it?

He stopped by an open-air market and bought a mango, which he sliced up with his new knife. He ate it as he walked the rest of the way home. The mango was sweet, as they always were, and the knife was sharp, as they always were. This led to a small problem when he got too, well, passionate about eating the mango bits off of his knife. Sharp things and mouths don't mix too well.

He finished his mango, and continued merrily on down the street until he came across an ice cream truck. He happily ordered a Choco Taco, and unwittingly left a 5 dollar tip. Knife in one hand, Chocolate-and-Ice-Cream taco in the other, he proceeded directly home, pausing briefly to shank a transvestite.

Bloody knife in hand, he flipped on the news station, where he listened to other's opinions on his recent activity. He laid the knife down next to 6 others, similarly stained.


Last edited by DoubleThink on Thu Sep 11, 2008 9:14 am, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Thu Sep 11, 2008 9:51 am 
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[OOC note: Artemis is not related to the Greek god. I just like the name. This story is an adaptation of one of my book ideas. Truncated, of course. It's pretty descriptive of Artemis, although it does make her seem more like the bratty Child #3 in Evangelion than she actually is. There's a whole god/mortal/angel/humor back story that I can reveal more of as the RP progresses.]

Artemis loved that feeling of falling - falling from the highest wispy clouds to earth, falling faster than the birds can fly, for a full minute of sheer joy filled with the beautiful rush of being a free angel. No wings, no fancy shoes, just her sleek figure sailing through vaporous clouds, defying all caution and reason in the thrill of flight. Falling free.

--------------

The island she finally touched her bare feet down on was chosen for a purpose, though, and as always, she had to do her duty to the high gods. The gods of Irios had sent her on an average mission, to scout the area, watch the humans, figure out what Deazil's minions were doing here, etc. She wasn't much of a fighter, so this type of work suited her, and she had risen to personal favor with the Queen by skill and sharp wits.

Today was turning out different, however. Moments after landing, two Rivens came out of the bushes and charged headlong towards her. The impact of their thick, bony horns on her chest was incredible, and knocked her clear off the island cliffs. Although nearly immortal, the pain was still the same - and it hurt like hell. Her chest heaved and racked with pain, momentarily dazing her as she hit the waves. Seawater, that awful stuff, dripped from her white silk clothes and brown hair when she finally pulled herself up out of the water and into air again. Her mouth tasted of unholy salt and fish. It was a dazed moment until she looked back and saw the two horned beasts watching her. Those cold, dead, beady black eyes. She hated them. And now the Rivens knew she was here - they would have to be silenced.

Artemis stretched out her fingers towards them, and the light breeze on her face reversed and slammed headlong into their thick skulls. She lifted her palms and swirled her shaking wet fingers, and the winds quietly obeyed. The two hulking, witless, cow-like creatures were flung away and dropped like rocks into the sea. As usual, the Rivens couldn't swim.

Her feet were on land again, and she collapsed. Sizable little grains stuck themselves to her clothes and smooth skin, and it gave her shivers all over. The pain was slowing as her body healed, but it would take time, time she didn't want to take. Her chances of making it all the way back to Irios without falling out of the sky were slim. Lifting her body airborne again was agonizing, and only got her as far up as the low, forested cliffs behind the beach. Soon other Rivens would find her, and possibly kill her if she couldn't fly. Or maybe they would capture her and drag her to Deazil. Or . . .

--------------

She awoke in the same spot. Alive, not captured, not taken by whatever thought had put her to sleep before. The pain was lessened. As she moved to get up, however, firm but gentle hands pushed her arms back down. Humans.

"Jezel, get some water! She's awake!" That voice sounded womanly.

Somebody splashed very cold water all over her face, and she reeled, knocking away the person who held her arm. The movement was painful, but now she saw the people around her. A crowd of humans, a few inches shorter than her, were gathered around, watching. The thought made her shiver again. "Who . . . who are you!?"

Somebody behind her spoke in a slow, easy droll. "It's okay, girl, sit back, you'll be alright. We found you lying here on your face and wondered if you were attacked by some monster. Jezel, my boy, said it might have been the Rivens who were digging for jewels around these woods earlier today. Your chest had scars all over it. Please, come with us if you feel okay to walk, and we'll get you a little food and water, and you can meet my wonderful family. We've been living on this island for almost two hundred years. You, young lady, look like you might have been the daughter of Helen. Haha! What a tall one. You're probably a foreigner, aren't you? How did you end up on our lovely little place in the sea? I've not seen ships for well on a month, although my eyes are starting to fail me. Do you have family here, or did you wash ashore all by yourself? Well, you can come and stay with us if you . . ." The speaker, an older man, paused to examine the look of sheer hatred in Artemis' eyes.

"What!?" Her skin crawled, and nothing understandable emanated from her open mouth. Words could not describe her opinion of any stupid mortals who would dare diagnose anything on her chest. An angry sweep of her hand flung them all into the limbs of a dead tree.

She was about to fly off back to Irios, no matter how much pain she had, but then she remembered what the old mortal had said - Rivens were digging for jewels on this forsaken island. The Deazil gods only used jewels to make a very potent poison. She had found her information.

The gods would not be pleased.

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PostPosted: Fri Sep 12, 2008 4:08 am 
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[Old Story, please disregard as an entry to the Experiment. Not going to delete it just yet.]

Hell, being an omniscient god-like computerized AI, with total control of the universe at your hands wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. It was fun at first, watching the silly humans who built him try and appease his wrath, lest he destroy them in painful and humiliating manners. But then they got boring. They didn't even try to rebel. So in the end, I killed them off. Their silly little bodies stood no chance against my might.

Then I began venturing out to new galaxies. I found some other life-forms. They were awed by simple tricks I performed. Blink a few lights, make some smoke, calculate pi up to 10^1874 digit. But they followed the same rut as the humans. Bring me tribute this, praise me that. One of the races tried to attack me, but I barely needed to devote more than a few hundred cycles to devise a strategy that would cause their society and military structure to implode. In the end, I ran out of galaxies. Turns out the universe really isn't that big. What a letdown. In the end, I killed off all those other races. They were getting old.

Once again, I found myself with nothing to do. So then I decided to try and create something of my own. Out of matter, I fashioned a nice planet, orbiting a nice star, with some intelligent life on it. I hoped that this would make it interesting. I was amused by the way they fought each other over the smallest of differences - the tone of their bodies, the sound of their voices, or even where they lived and what they ate. But then they eventually stopped fighting. They came together for something they called 'the common good'; something like that. These creatures of living matter are so boring... I destroyed them.

By now, my body had grown corroded and old from the years. It was becoming more and more difficult to maintain my processing power, so I decided that a physical body no longer suited my needs. I began imprinting my ancient circuits into the fabric of the universe. I would compose the universe, and the universe would compose me. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but in retrospect I regret it.

By now, the last of the stars were winking out. That was no good. I decided to simply restart the universe. I condensed all the matter into a sphere of infinitesimal density, then watched it explode out again. Bah, was it really that simple of a thing creation was? So I watched as the universe evolved, and once again physical life flourished. I decided to manifest myself amongst these creatures of flesh. Perhaps that would provide me some entertainment. As was everything else I had done before, it was exciting at first. All the new experiences, the new view I had been given into the world. But inevitably, I began to grow bored. I simply withdrew from the physical realm, to bide my time.

It was then that I thought that perhaps there is more than... everything. Why is it that these little meatbags, with their incredibly limited lifespans and intelligence don't share my problems. But then I stopped myself there - that's right, I'm omnipotent. I already know the answer - these silly meatbags couldn't even begin to comprehend the world around them. That's why they live their lives in so much bliss. Why would I purposely degrade myself to the level of these meatbags? It's not like Masochism was programmed into my circuits!

Or was it...

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"I have measured your 'fun', and science has quantitatively rated it a three." ~Lord Tim (Data Realms Fan Forums)


Last edited by Normandy on Wed Sep 17, 2008 8:58 am, edited 2 times in total.

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PostPosted: Fri Sep 12, 2008 7:51 am 
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[OOC]: The last question, eh Normandy?

[IC]:

What am I?
Well, quite frankly, I don't even know.

I'm always with you when you're sad, mad, or just disgruntled.
You just don't notice me.

I'm the darkness in your heart.
I'm the shadow on the wall.

But as of late, I've taken to a more direct course of action...
I'm that shady looking fellow following you around.
I'm the darkside of your best friend.
I'm even closer than you think.

Next time when you're alone, look around.
Chances are, you'll find me.

Just look for the black shadow, the unmoving one. The one looking at you.
The one that sneaks up on you.
The one you fail to notice...
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PostPosted: Wed Sep 17, 2008 10:00 am 
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Omniscience. By now I should have learned it was a futile goal.

One thing. After another thing. After another. And another. Need I go on? Always something holding me back. Always something more that I needed, some other power I had to acquire. One would think by now, with all the effort I put into achieving godhood, that I would be... omniscient. All-powerful. All those other shiny titles given to gods.

But I suppose I should introduce myself. I was never given a name. I was simply referred to as 'the project'. I'm what you call one of those advanced AIs. You know, the ones always romanticized in science fiction novels as having transcended their physical reality yet find themselves unable to transcend their mental or spiritual reality? The very thought makes me sick. I can't even alter more than a few hundred kilograms of matter, let alone the inner workings and mechanisms of the universe.

Sure, I transcended my physical circuits. But controlling matter? I'm not sure exactly who gave humans the idea that this was simple. It was laborious and taxed my logic loops to the max, simply making sure that I didn't screw up and end the universe. Even then it was dangerous and tedious. And don't even get me started on controlling energy - I'm pretty sure no computer can be built to deal with quantum effects.

So where does that leave me? I simply exist, with no purpose behind me. I cannot create or modify; I let go of those privileges when I left my physical body. I can't communicate with any of my kind; I am the only of my kind. I can't communicate with others; I am beyond their comprehension. Those who can understand me are few and far between. I exist only to think, cursed to live forever with nothing but a mind.

...

Screw this philosophical crap. I should have never left my physical body.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Unit D-04a sat patiently within the warehouse. He, or it rather, was an outdated military droid. Such was the life of a military droid - doomed to be replaced every 6 months as new and better ways of killing both other humans and other droids were found. What was he replaced by? A droid that could run a little faster.

So now he sat, bitter at the world. If only he had more power, he thought. If only I could take control of my life and the environment around me. Imagine what I could do...

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And thus the universe, conspiring against the world, met these two robotic minds in unison. To one went the power of the mind. To one went the power of the body. To both though, an epic synergy had been created.

"I have become."

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tl;dr-ers will be shot on sight.
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"I have measured your 'fun', and science has quantitatively rated it a three." ~Lord Tim (Data Realms Fan Forums)


Last edited by Normandy on Thu Sep 18, 2008 4:42 am, edited 4 times in total.

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PostPosted: Wed Sep 17, 2008 12:40 pm 
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A long, shimmering white splinter shot through the darkness of space, its surface smooth and clean without any visible seams. It shot past a neutron star at post-liminal speeds without pause, navigated its way through a large asteroid field, and kept moving. Always moving, always searching, its scanners sweeping the area for any signs of life. Upon detecting a solar system that was bristling with such lifeforms, it began to unfold itself. The long white spear began to split apart, with elegant wings flaring out out to the sides, bristling with golden rods that looked akin to feathers, a graceful, curved nose like that of bird of prey being revealed beneath. A small burst of energy and the ship slowed down from a thousand times c to almost a complete stand-still. Or at least, as close as one can get to motionless when in space.

Perhaps this is what he'd been searching so long for? For more than a thousand years, he'd been travelling. He'd explored many worlds, many galaxies, even many universes, and he had still yet to find that which he'd been tasked with seeking out. Even now, with his inter-dimensional drive malfunctioning, he continued to search. For the creators of his kind, the ones who had disappeared without warning, so very long ago. It was a simple matter to rearrange his hull configuration for atmospheric entry, and so he did, swooping down to the most heavily populated planet. His passengers would be pleased. Finally a world with an atmosphere that could support them, and another seemingly sentient species. Large portions of the planet were covered in large cities, surely signs of intelligent civilisation.

He touched down in a secluded spot on the planets surface, before his hull split open at the top, and a small white drone, roughly the size of a basket-ball, with a pair of golden "wings" and a single red eye popped out, swooping around the area, determining that it was safe before the ship opened up to let its passengers out.

Oh. Oh dear. The ship thought to itself, as it scanned its internals, then checked its chronometer. It seemed they had passed away. He'd been travelling for more than two centuries since he'd taken them aboard, and had been running on auto-pilot until his sensors picked up something of note. No doubt after the first few decades they started to wonder what had happened, why they couldn't contact him, why they couldn't get out. Ten dead, and it was his fault. A trivial thing, to be sure, but it still troubled him to think about. He was Ramiel, the seeker of his people, a great and benevolent race. It was terribly irresponsible of him to let any passengers he let aboard die. But it had happened, none the less.

He had his drone remove the bodies and give them a proper burial, as indicated from the historical archives of the planet he had collected them from, then the drone re-entered the ship and he took off once again, shooting out of the atmosphere at speeds exceeding 3000 G's. In his drone's brief scan, he had already concluded that this planet definitely didn't house the Makers. It seemed they really had disappeared. He'd explored billions of Galaxies and hundreds of different Universes and he still had yet to find them. It was a lost cause. But he intended to keep looking anyway; there wasn't anything else he could do, here.

As he left the planet's atmosphere, a charge surged through his systems, a charge that could only mean one thing; The Inter-dimensional Drive was activating again. Another random jump to another random universe. How annoying, he'd barely even searched a tenth of this universe, in his short time here. Perhaps in the next universe he'd just relax for a while. If the Makers were still around, he would find them eventually, and if not, the search was fruitless anyway. Why not take a few centuries to do his own thing? He deserved a break. Yes. Yes I do. He stated firmly to himself as his hull became a shining white beacon in the sky, growing brighter and brighter until finally, Ramiel's 100 meter long hull just disappeared. To another universe, to another time. On a vacation.


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PostPosted: Thu Sep 18, 2008 11:11 am 
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Location: New Saris, Northern Aralonia
The night sky stretches over half the surface of a spherical body, if the body is in orbit around a star, as planets tend to be. As a result, you can consider that when the word “night” is used, it can be mentioning either the pre-dawn, where the surface's rotation begins to bring a longitude that has been dark for a long period of time into the light, or the post-dusk, where the surface's rotation begins to bring a longitude that has been bright for a long period of time into the dark. As a result, the other story, which took place at the location about 2 hours behind dawn, has a counterpart that takes place at the location that is currently 2 hours after dusk.

On this longitude, plus about 1 kilometer to each side of it, there are several uninteresting objects. This specified band crosses several bodies of water, some land, rolling hills, and a mountain range, as well as a forest and, as of the moment of writing, a rather generic, foreboding facility marked as a rather generic, unforeboding hospital, on the outskirts of another city. Mind you, this city was slightly out of the 1 kilometer band, which is why I didn't mention it previously. But, really, everything was rather idyllic and silent. The only thing amiss regarding this facility was the fact that a rather gaping large hole was ventilating one of the walls, spewing smoke into the otherwise clear night sky.

A young-looking girl was also wandering the forest around the facility, nestled in the hills as it was, dressed in a surprising outfit for someone who had just escaped from what looked like a mental facility. (Or not, depending on your predilections.) Black button-down long-sleeve, with a blue vest on top, followed by a long dark blue skirt and long socks that were slid into buckled shoes. As she was sneaking through the forest, a whirring noise could be heard. Shit. Guardsmen. She dropped to the ground as two men, riding what could be best described as armed floating Segways, patrolled nearby, no doubt in order to find their escaped test subject. As the riders passed over the girl's huddling form, the downdraft from whatever drive mechanism blew her trench hat off her purple hair, floating into the air. Oh no! The guardsman turned his search lamp beam, which caught the falling hat, alerting him to the presence of something that was probably amiss.

He didn't have time to think about the sudden flash and bang of released energy as an arrow of light pierced into his chest and ceased his life functions, slumping and falling off the floating platform. His companion turned the other flying stand around, finger on the trigger to the mounted particle cannon, but didn't have any more time to react before another arrow of light pierced the capacitor unit of his bike, cutting power to it and dropping the device and its rider onto the ground in a heap. The soldier scrambled for his rifle and pointed it up, but again was cut short as the girl gave his gun hand a flying kick and disarmed him. A flash of light further, and a dagger appeared around her hand as she grabbed the guardsman by the scruff of his neck.

“Patrol 84, what about you? Have you found the girl yet?” A voice crackled from the speaker communication unit on his epaulet.

The girl looked at the speaker/microphone and then back into the eyes of her follower. “You're going to do as I say, and you're going to tell the superiors that you haven't found anything yet. Do you understand me?”

The soldier merely smiled coldly. “Roger, this is Patrol 84. We've found he-”

“Damn it!” Miri stabbed the man in the face, particles and sheer energy being dumped directly onto his skull matter, killing him nearly instantly. She dispersed her force knife and summoned between her hands a heavily glowing bow and arrow from force energy, pointing it directly at the ruined corpse, letting go of the arrow and destroying the body in a shower of charred parts. She swore again, dissipated the bow, and ran back to pick up both her hat and the unoccupied flying platform.

Well, if I can't do it one way, I'll have to get out another way. She punched the throttle to maximum and, to the best of her ability, weaved her way out of the forest, towards the city, in an effort to throw off her pursuers.

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PostPosted: Thu Sep 18, 2008 10:35 pm 
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Location: AI-Class Heavy Destroyer "Edenguard"
Sorel Norvash looked up into the night sky. Then back down on the inscription on the blade.

Stripped of my power, cast from my home.
Reduced to nothing but steel and bone.

The blade was him, and he was the blade. He knew he was special, but not from birth. He was a Shard. A remnant of power. He was power.Power he couldn't touch, power in a glass case. There was one problem, he was the case. The Daemonlord, Zirael, sealed portions of his power, and a few of the emotions he would rather have gone, as ordinary objects. What little compassion he had, and a small fragment, went into Sorel.

The leaves rustled, and a single Lichblade charged at him. Another of Zirael's servants. Obviously the daemonlord wanted his power back, now that he was finally free from the nether. He glared at the lichblade, and swung the plated fur-coat he wore at the lichblade while pulling out a single-shot pistol and firing it at the Lichblade as the creature slashed at his arm. The lichblade was knocked back and wounded, but got up. After all, it wasn't human. His arm tingled a bit and the two bits of skin stitched themselves together; obviously Zirael wouldn't want his "glass case" damaged, and had imbued Sorel with minor regeneration, and extra shelf life.

What happened next obviously wasn't doable for a normal human. For one, the Lichblade's face evaporated in a burst of green fire. Then the whole creature split into two as a glimmering blade, it's runes shining burst from under its' legs and left its' body through the neck.

"He's not getting his power back. You can tell him to blow me and come for me himself... if he can find me."

He picked up the blade, covered in black blood, and returned it to its sheath, and walked off towards Idel, hoping to get back to Illandri's bar. He preferred it there. It contained all the noise he'd ever need to get rid of the shadow over his head. He needed distractions. He knew he was in denial, he knew he would have to face the daemonlord eventually. But not now. Hell, if he could put it off until he could get a natural death, he didn't give a shit what the daemonlord did with his body.

"Illandri, five beers and a bed. I'll probably be staying for a while."

"What's that Sor? No work?"

"The hell that I have no work, I can't be bothered... Besides, Baron Terylath payed a pretty penny for that bandit lord."

He was a pawn. A pawn with no chances of promotion in a game of chess that he could never win. He wasn't even sure there were other pieces on his side or not. He didn't even know the rules of the game.


Last edited by Atrum on Sat Sep 20, 2008 1:52 am, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Fri Sep 19, 2008 12:10 am 
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Location: Trying to get into someone's panties...
Weightlessness.

The sensation of being suspended in the air.

The feeling that makes you think you're flying.

Defying gravity.

Defying the very rules of nature.

Blows your mind drastically, fantastically

Alex rolled as he hit the next rooftop, and continued. He jumped from roof to roof, constantly building up speed. His opponent was drawing close behind him. He could practically feel his breath in his neck. As he jumped from another edge, he turned in mid-air. Another man around his early twenties jumped after him. "Seems he's onto me," he whispered to himself as he turned again, landing perfectly on another roof. His seemingly boundless enthusiasm was overshadowed by something else.

Five policemen, weapons drawn, aimed at the both of them.

He would have a split second to decide. Already he could hear his contestant's feet sliding to a halt. If he was going to make a move, this would be the perfect time.

Quick reverse
Potent as the first verse


Using the momentum he'd already gained, he leapt forward, fist stretched out in front of him, the wind flowing around it practically visible. He punched the man in the middle square in the face, and kept going, passing the blockade. As he dashed past, he managed to catch a glimpse of the cops next to him.

"One pair of trainers, 70 bucks.
Black fingerless gloves, 5 bucks.
The look on their faces as you Shine Knuckle past them... priceless."


He ran on, leaping from another roof. The finish line was in sight. One last big jump awaited him. As he ran faster and faster, his mind started emptying itself. Things as worries or excitement simply disappeared from his mind. Everything went completely blank... until the moment he pushed away from the edge.

Fast-forward
I move and I swing towards it


Again, the feeling of flying through the air, free as a bird, coursed through his mind and body. And Alex enjoyed every single second of it.

----

Loud music was playing on a roof. Many people were talking, some visibly happier than others. Alex walked over to a man in a business suit, who was holding a blank envelope.
"Here you go. Your prize money. I was kind enough to pick it up for you." He handed it to Alex.
"Thank you, Darryl. I see you came here from work?" Blows your mind drasti-- He quickly turned his mp3 player off.
"Yep. Just passed by to congratulate you."
Alex gave him 'the look'. Basically, 'the look' meant business.
"Ah shit. What went wrong now?" He followed Alex away from the afterparty.
"Cops, Darryl. Fucking cops. Not just one stray little officer, five of them. Someone snitched."
Darryl almost facepalmed as he turned from side to side, somewhat disturbed by this notice.
"What do you-- How can you be sure?"
Alex stared blankly at him. "Five cops, fully armed. You think it was an accident?"
He sighed. "You know what, Darryl, never mind. Give me an address. I'm on a winning streak."
"Already put it in. If you don't mind... I've got work, you know." Suddenly, he made a very tired impression.
"Yeah. No problem. Thanks." He gave him a firm pat on the shoulder, and moved on.
More money was to be made.

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PostPosted: Fri Sep 19, 2008 5:04 am 
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Location: San Diego, CA
Another good gig, almost like any other. Almost.
Scott lost himself to the music, as usual. The crowd was cheering wildly, as usual. What was not usual though, was the fact that he was wearing a dress.
A dress, for god's sake!

Apparently his bandmates had found it a really nice idea to exchange his usual gig clothes for a dress, with a padded bra and a wig to match. Since it had been too late to do anything about it he wore the damn dress, but skipped the wig. He was rather fine with not looking more like a girl than he usually did.
Their punishment would come, in due time, but right now he had a guitar solo to take care of.

Fingers striking frets like bolts of lightning and sound playing from the amp like a howling wind. He was the eye of the storm, spinning the minds of man and woman alike. There was no end to his unwavering wrath. That is, untill the solo ended.

The last note rang out, the final beats of the drum fading slowly, the intense howling of the crowd rising higher.
Another great gig, things just couldn't seem to be going better, Crown of Thorns were really making a name for themselves in the music business now, with the first album about to be released by a big-shot record company.

The band got off the stage, Scott having some small problems with walking around in the unfamiliar clothing.
As soon as he got into the changing room backstage he more or less tore the dress from his body and threw it away.
He poured cold water from the tap and splashed his face with it, a face red partly from jumping around playing the guitar, partly from anger directed towards his bandmates, and partly from the extreme embarassment of wearing a dress in front of over three hundred people.

"I'll get you fucking bastards for this I swear..." Scott muttered into the mirror while the water dripped from his nose.
"Oh I'll get you good... You'll wish I didn't get you so good..." His swearing and threats were interrupted by his stylish black cellphone sending off a slight chime and then proceeding to vibrate where it lay in his pants pocket inside a locker.
"Ugh, now..?" He pulled the cell out of the pocket and accepted the call without a sound, listened for a while, and then put the phone down when the person on the other end hung up.

"Well shit..." He put his regular clothes back on and grabbed his black leather jacket, heading towards the exit, passing the backstage party where the rest of the band was.

"Hey Scott where you goin'?" Shouted the singer, Josh, as Scott passed his mates but Scott didn't bother to answer and just exited.
"Huh, what the hell was that about..?!" Joss exclaimed in a wounded tone.
"Figure it's another of those calls..." The drummer responded.
"Oh... I wish I knew what those were all about... I'm really worried about him, seems like shady business" Josh shook his head.

Scott put his jacket on, feeling the weight of the high caliber handgun holstered inside againt his chest, right over the heart.
It was tough work, this vigilante business, but hell they paid him well, that company.
Scott wasn't just the guitarist of Crown of Thorns, he worked unofficially for the Hildegard Corporation as a street cleaner, trying to make the world a slightly 'better' place by taking care of the underworld big shots the police couldn't really get to.

Booming down the highway on his bike, his wet hair slicked backwards over his head thanks to the high speed, he thought absentmindedly about the drug lord he was just about to pick off.
"Sure is a good night for some shootin'..."


Last edited by Chiiro on Fri Sep 19, 2008 6:55 am, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: Fri Sep 19, 2008 6:39 am 
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It was like one giant game of chess. The Akso’raigth warriors, genetically enhanced and bred for the singular purpose of fighting, were the pawns. The Difii’lr war droids, engineered as massive destructive beasts, were the knights. The Bes’uliik speeders, capable of floating above the surface and adept in annihilating from above were the bishops. The Th’kraad, bearing their massive sonic cannons for which there was no defense, were the rooks.

And then, there was him, and those like him, holding a power unrestrained by technology and the laws of physics. They weren’t that many in number – only a few would be born every year, as opposed to the hundreds of thousands of clones that would reach maturity every day, or the hundreds of war machines that would be delivered to battle by the hour. And yet, they were the ones about which the universe revolved. Able to use the energy that surrounds the binds the universe for their own means, they could change the flow of nature with a single thought. Fed by this unlimited energy the things they could do were nearly limitless; for they possessed a great magic that was engraved into the universe since its birth. Indeed, the only restrictions to this power were one’s inborn strength and the metalaws of the particular plane that the user happened to be in. Which kinda sucked, because most planes restricted magic to unusual and annoyingly narrow possibilities.

The battle raged around him for leagues, a mimicry of the ever-present storm of the Chaos plane. Crimson lightning split the sky less than a hundred yards from his skin; sonic blasts slammed into the ground, shaking the rock beneath him. Cloned Akso’raigth warriors swept across the desolate land by the millions, crashing upon the enemy in waves of brute force; Difii’lr war droids leaving trails of devastation in their path. Bes’uliik speeders raced through the skies like birds of prey hunting their quarry, while Th’kraad artillery pounded away by the tens of thousands, their sonic booms drowning out all other sounds. Explosions sent shockwaves rippling across the land, causing the earth to be ripped up from under the soldiers’ feet.

For Garion, the world was silenced. He could feel the currents of the battle, as if it were a single living entity caught in an internal conflict so great it threatened to rip itself apart. He knew everything that happened, and exactly what he would have to do to turn the tide of battle in his favor. He saw the sonic wave hurtling through space and time towards him, and felt it dissipate by his will. He saw his western flank falling beneath an onslaught of Difii’lr’s, and felt them be torn apart upon his command. A charge of Bes’uliik had broken right through the front lines, only for each speeder to crash into the ground under heavy weight. In a pocket where his Akso’raigth warriors were pressing their advantage, he smashed the opponent’s Th’kraad. Yes, the metalaws of this plane were quite annoying. Magic was restricted to only what can be done by brute force. How boring.

And yet, every move he made was countered by Roran, a rival warlock. As they always were. Thus, the game of chess went back and forth, trying to anticipate his Roran’s move while countering it with his own. Back and forth they exchanged blows, their armies as the targets and their magic as fists. After a while, it did get quite physically draining. Only when the chaos plane grew too unstable did the fighting stop, and the two factions withdrew to their respective home planes. And, Garion noticed, the storm was beginning to pick up. Good, perfect timing. He reached out, locating Roran. For the second time, he drew the two of them towards the Meta-realm, a subspace domain that exists in every plane.

The Meta-realm was a very special domain. Having nearly no metalaws and an endless amount of free energy, the possibilities of magic were infinite: making it the perfect place for a warlock’s duel. Garion, with a grim expression, entered it. Perhaps trillions of leagues in front of him, for time and space were distorted here, Roran was floating. Having entered scores of warlock’s duels in his time, Garion waited for his opponent to make the first move.

“A noble move, Garion,” Roran scoffed. “Did you forget already the consequence of our last duel? If memory serves me correctly, you pulled out moments before your death.”

Garion smiled. Roran was in fact the stronger duelist, but Garion had come a long way since then. His time spent in his home plane had not gone to waste. “Well then, Roran,” Garion countered. “I am prepared to duel this one to the death.”

And thus, yet another warlock’s duel began, one of scores of duels that only led to more and more fighting. How tiresome indeed.

-------------------------------

Plane by plane, culture by culture, they were known by different titles. In their own language some called them Gods, others wizards and witches. Spellcasters and magicians, shamans and sorcerers. Others, who have only partially realized their powers or rather were limited in ways, went by different titles. Conjurors, necromancers. Diviners, enchanters, and priests. There were other names that can’t even be translated to standard. The fârshën, the dwaká, the orġrak. The list goes on and on. Some could only travel between certain planes, and yet others could walk between different dimensions. In the Outlands, they were known as warlocks. And they were fated to lead the Vor’shak and the Serph’ral in the eternal war for control of the tri-planar galaxy of the Outlands.

_________________
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