GENRE: 1950’s B-Movie Monster Flick
“Did y'all understan wha that was about ?â€
Volleyball 2004
Moderator: Ghost
GENRE: Haiku Duel (see “Wizard Warâ€
Last edited by Darb on Tue May 11, 2004 3:11 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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Kahrey
- Fairy Tale Heroine - aka "Cinders"
- Posts: 3577
- Joined: Wed Mar 03, 2004 3:07 pm
- Location: Independence, MO
- Contact:
[Genre: i dunno, Conclusion of the Wizard's War?]
...that a great whilrwind took them down. Down. Into the dark depths of Hell. To the very place that Robert never wanted to see again.
Darb does not laugh. This was not supposed to happen. If Robert defeats him again, his soul will be forever chained. Then again, Robert does not know this. Though he does know how to defeat him. How Robert had become so powerful Darb could not figure out.
After the first white-flamed shaft, Robert pommels the invisible shield with his Black Fire. A sudden surge of energy rushes through his body. It hits him with tremendous strength and he stumbles back, but he does not fall, an invisible force holds him there.
With his head tipped back and arms spread, another surge of power hits him even harder in the chest. Swirls of white, black, yellow, and red burst forth from his chest. The room fills with the giant starburst. Surprisingly, the light does not blind him, but fills his eyes entirely, turning them the same colors and swirling inside.
A flame whips out of the fire, which reaches to the ceiling, and wraps around his body, pulling him into the fire. He is unaware that anything is happening. But he knows that his soul has left him, and it lingers somewhere else.
Moments later he is suddenly dropped to the ground. He falls a long way, but feels nothing. His body lays lifeless.
When he wakes, a feeling inside tells him he is dead. His skin is very pale and ice cold. His heart does not beat. His eyes do not hold their former color, not even the white, but they are fully black.
He stands, but slowly, and notices that he is naked. Though his skin shows no sign of burns, his clothes must have been burnt off.
A small fire burns now, with a black core which holds the shape of man. The black core is his soul.
He walks around the large room before taking one of the pitch-black passages and....
...that a great whilrwind took them down. Down. Into the dark depths of Hell. To the very place that Robert never wanted to see again.
Darb does not laugh. This was not supposed to happen. If Robert defeats him again, his soul will be forever chained. Then again, Robert does not know this. Though he does know how to defeat him. How Robert had become so powerful Darb could not figure out.
After the first white-flamed shaft, Robert pommels the invisible shield with his Black Fire. A sudden surge of energy rushes through his body. It hits him with tremendous strength and he stumbles back, but he does not fall, an invisible force holds him there.
With his head tipped back and arms spread, another surge of power hits him even harder in the chest. Swirls of white, black, yellow, and red burst forth from his chest. The room fills with the giant starburst. Surprisingly, the light does not blind him, but fills his eyes entirely, turning them the same colors and swirling inside.
A flame whips out of the fire, which reaches to the ceiling, and wraps around his body, pulling him into the fire. He is unaware that anything is happening. But he knows that his soul has left him, and it lingers somewhere else.
Moments later he is suddenly dropped to the ground. He falls a long way, but feels nothing. His body lays lifeless.
When he wakes, a feeling inside tells him he is dead. His skin is very pale and ice cold. His heart does not beat. His eyes do not hold their former color, not even the white, but they are fully black.
He stands, but slowly, and notices that he is naked. Though his skin shows no sign of burns, his clothes must have been burnt off.
A small fire burns now, with a black core which holds the shape of man. The black core is his soul.
He walks around the large room before taking one of the pitch-black passages and....
"Life is trial and error. Those who succeed are those who survive their failures and keep trying." - LE Modesitt, Jr.
GENRE: AD&D FILK
... nearly ran headlong into a band of teenage geeks on an AD&D module set in Hell.
One of the players, apparently an avid filker, is leading the group in a sing along filk parody ...
Turning down a different side passage ...
... nearly ran headlong into a band of teenage geeks on an AD&D module set in Hell.
One of the players, apparently an avid filker, is leading the group in a sing along filk parody ...
Robert, already in a foul mood due to recent events, promptly tested out his newfound powers as the Lord of Hell ... by putting the annoying and rather noisy teens out of their misery with a well-placed blast of hellfire.RING THEIR BELLS
Words: Rik E Spoor
Tune: "Jingle Bells"
Slashing through the Orcs
With a good two-handed blade
Over corpses we go
And through the gore we wade
Mace on helmet rings
Making bodies fly
What fun to sing our Slaying Song
And watch these suckers DIE!
(chorus)
Oh, ring their bells with swords and spells
Don't let 'em get away!
We're brave and bold for fame and gold
We'll make a lot today!
Oh, ring their bells with swords and spells
Don't let 'em get away!
We'll hack and slash and blast and trash
And blow these dudes away!
Crashing through the door
Into the Dragon's nose
Our mage whips out a Cone of Cold
And out his fire goes!
Elven bowstrings sing
Making Balrogs fall
And our thief finds a secret door
Into the treasure hall!
(chorus)
Then appears the Lich
With his demon guard
Our wizard yawns and wishes
We'd run into something hard.
He begins to cast
His 19th level spell
The damn lich throws a Gate at us
And drops us all in Hell!
(chorus)
We appear in Hell
In front of Satan's throne
Our Cleric waves us out the door
And takes him on alone!
Oh, ring their bells with Prayers and Spells
Don't let 'em get away!
We're brave and bold and CRAZED, we're told
To think we'll live the day!
Oh, ring their bells with swords and SHELLS
Don't let 'em get away!
We'll hack and slash and blast and trash
And drag our loot away!
Turning down a different side passage ...
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Kahrey
- Fairy Tale Heroine - aka "Cinders"
- Posts: 3577
- Joined: Wed Mar 03, 2004 3:07 pm
- Location: Independence, MO
- Contact:
...he finds a room full of black hooded robes. He quickly puts one on. He hopes it is fire resistant, then laughs at himself for thinking so.
As he walks down yet another passage, he comes upon a small fire. He bends down and stares at it for a moment. Then, he waves his hand through it. He feels nothing. What do I do now?
His mind recalls the prophecy:
He sits on the hot stone and iron floor, wondering what he should do. Then....
As he walks down yet another passage, he comes upon a small fire. He bends down and stares at it for a moment. Then, he waves his hand through it. He feels nothing. What do I do now?
His mind recalls the prophecy:
"Great Battle...with the Heavens..."" 'And it shall come to pass that a mortal man shall see the very depths of hell, and he shall survive. Though he visits only by way of the calling of the Demon's Powder. The Angel of Darkness he shall be called, who will ride on the very back of the Black Dragon. The Demon of Light shall challenge him to a Wizard War, though the Angel of Darkness will be oblivious to the seperate world in which he will be called. The Demon of Light will try to take advantage over this, but will be defeated in time by the Black Fire of the Angel of Darkness.'
" 'Thus, the Angel of Darkness shall gain control of all Hell and the souls which lie within. With this power, comes death. His soul will dwell in the Great Fire, which shall spread out its hands towards him and lift him up.'
" 'The Demon of Light, Darb, defeated the previous thousands of years ago. He joined Hell not by mean's of the Demon's Powder, but through death itself. There, he was challenged. The War of the Wizards lasted for days before Darb gained vistory, becoming the Demon of Light.'
" 'Before the time of the Angel of Darkness, no live mortal ever enetered the depths of Hell. This one shall be the Chosen One. He will not be the next of Demon of Light. His rule will not be one of Chaos, but he will rule as the Angel of Darkness, raising up the Age of Order in the dark depths of Hell. For an Empire ruled on Chaos as ruled by the Demon of Light cannot stand against the Heavens in the Great Battle which shall take place during the time of the Age of Order.'
" 'The Angel of Darkness will think this all but a dream, but really, it is a seperate world, one apart from our own. He will soon discover that he is the Ruler of Hell. Soon after his victory, he will realize that it is not a dream...' "
He sits on the hot stone and iron floor, wondering what he should do. Then....
Last edited by Kahrey on Thu May 13, 2004 9:03 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"Life is trial and error. Those who succeed are those who survive their failures and keep trying." - LE Modesitt, Jr.
GENRE: Watership Down
…slowly, with that mysterious, steely concentration that comes to so many rabbits when they are involved in life-threatening situations, Robert walked across the hutch floor to examine the latch more closely. The heat cast by the burning orange man-light which the man had left next to his prison was stifling. His small heart was beating rapidly within his chest – he knew if he did not keep himself under control that going tharn was inevitable, and then he was as good as dead. He tried to guess the time – it was certainly well past evening silflay, probably close to ni-Frith, but he couldn’t be sure without a look at the sky.
He sat on his haunches close to the strangely-shaped piece of silvery stuff, and tried to think back to the stories Hazel-rah and Mr. Bigwig had told him when he was a child about hutches and how to open them.
“...the thing you have to remember about people,â€
…slowly, with that mysterious, steely concentration that comes to so many rabbits when they are involved in life-threatening situations, Robert walked across the hutch floor to examine the latch more closely. The heat cast by the burning orange man-light which the man had left next to his prison was stifling. His small heart was beating rapidly within his chest – he knew if he did not keep himself under control that going tharn was inevitable, and then he was as good as dead. He tried to guess the time – it was certainly well past evening silflay, probably close to ni-Frith, but he couldn’t be sure without a look at the sky.
He sat on his haunches close to the strangely-shaped piece of silvery stuff, and tried to think back to the stories Hazel-rah and Mr. Bigwig had told him when he was a child about hutches and how to open them.
“...the thing you have to remember about people,â€
Colourless green ideas sleep furiously
GENRE: TV Cooking Show
... looked up at the clock, and saw that she only had 7 minutes to go until the next commercial break. The camera, and the culinary students in the auditorium, all stared at her impassively, waiting for her to continue. The fact that the current episode of her show was being hosted in the main lecture center of the French Culinary Institute, rather than at her usual soundstage, was a bit unsettling.
“Once your mis en place is complete, your next step is to begin the saute before moving on to the braising stage. This is how you lay the foundation for flavor in the dish. We begin by heating a mixture of clarified butter and olive oil in our cast iron dutch oven over medium high heat ...â€
... looked up at the clock, and saw that she only had 7 minutes to go until the next commercial break. The camera, and the culinary students in the auditorium, all stared at her impassively, waiting for her to continue. The fact that the current episode of her show was being hosted in the main lecture center of the French Culinary Institute, rather than at her usual soundstage, was a bit unsettling.
“Once your mis en place is complete, your next step is to begin the saute before moving on to the braising stage. This is how you lay the foundation for flavor in the dish. We begin by heating a mixture of clarified butter and olive oil in our cast iron dutch oven over medium high heat ...â€
/Nojshe "hangover-scene"/ 
...Robert jerked in startlement. What the hell just happened? He sat in a dark alley, breathing heavily, his vision swimming in the shadows. How did I get here? He looked around. Panic pulsed throughout his being. The last thing he remembered was being in the bar...and the Old Man with that weird nojshe stuff. What'd he do to me?
A groan escaped Robert's lips as he tried to stand. Reality swirled about him, nausea welling up in kind. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He began to shiver, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Feeling worse than he could ever remember feeling, Robert leaned back against the wall and slid into a setting position. That's better. If I just set here a bit, I'll feel better soon. Yet the aweful feeling wracking his body would not desist. It was like the worst hangover in the world multiplied by ten. His head began throbbing intensely at this thought. It felt like someone had driven a massive spike through his skull and was even now twisting it about with cruel glee.
Please let it stop. His stomach began to churn. Desperate, Robert leaned to his right and spewed the scant contents of his stomach onto the filthy pavement of the alley. When he was finished, his throat was sore and burning--and he dry-heaved for a few minutes longer just for good measure. After that, he leaned to his left, his body wracked by spasmodic shivering, and lay in a fetal position upon the cold, sweating pavement. If I just rest a while, I'll be all right... The thought repeated itself within his mind, as if the very repetition of it would make him well.
And then he heard the slow approach of footsteps...
...Robert jerked in startlement. What the hell just happened? He sat in a dark alley, breathing heavily, his vision swimming in the shadows. How did I get here? He looked around. Panic pulsed throughout his being. The last thing he remembered was being in the bar...and the Old Man with that weird nojshe stuff. What'd he do to me?
A groan escaped Robert's lips as he tried to stand. Reality swirled about him, nausea welling up in kind. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He began to shiver, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Feeling worse than he could ever remember feeling, Robert leaned back against the wall and slid into a setting position. That's better. If I just set here a bit, I'll feel better soon. Yet the aweful feeling wracking his body would not desist. It was like the worst hangover in the world multiplied by ten. His head began throbbing intensely at this thought. It felt like someone had driven a massive spike through his skull and was even now twisting it about with cruel glee.
Please let it stop. His stomach began to churn. Desperate, Robert leaned to his right and spewed the scant contents of his stomach onto the filthy pavement of the alley. When he was finished, his throat was sore and burning--and he dry-heaved for a few minutes longer just for good measure. After that, he leaned to his left, his body wracked by spasmodic shivering, and lay in a fetal position upon the cold, sweating pavement. If I just rest a while, I'll be all right... The thought repeated itself within his mind, as if the very repetition of it would make him well.
And then he heard the slow approach of footsteps...
"A writer's chosen task is to write well and professionally. If you can't keep doing it, then you're no longer a professional, but a gifted amateur." L. E. Modessit, jr.
GENRE: Anachronistic Private Eye
...outside his office, definitely high heels. A shadow came into view in the frosted glass of the door and then came a measured knock of three. Robert brought his legs down off the desk with a thump and yanked open the top drawer, fumbling amidst old mud spa coupons, empty cigarette packs, used condoms and Dick Tracy comics until he came up with a battered tape recorder. He quickly hit the red button.
“It was raining the day I first heard that knock on my door –“ he began, then stopped as a bout of coughing overtook him. “- sh*t!â€
...outside his office, definitely high heels. A shadow came into view in the frosted glass of the door and then came a measured knock of three. Robert brought his legs down off the desk with a thump and yanked open the top drawer, fumbling amidst old mud spa coupons, empty cigarette packs, used condoms and Dick Tracy comics until he came up with a battered tape recorder. He quickly hit the red button.
“It was raining the day I first heard that knock on my door –“ he began, then stopped as a bout of coughing overtook him. “- sh*t!â€
Colourless green ideas sleep furiously
-
Kahrey
- Fairy Tale Heroine - aka "Cinders"
- Posts: 3577
- Joined: Wed Mar 03, 2004 3:07 pm
- Location: Independence, MO
- Contact:
[Genre: Cheesy ...romance?]
...he..." her words drift off.
"What is it Mrs. Jarlington? What is it?"
"Well...he..." she pauses. "He tried to kill me," she blurts out.
"Tried to kill you..." He thinks for a moment. "You must be distraught!"
"Yes. I don't know why. Everything has ben fine, but suddenly, he just...changed..."
"How suspicious..." he says. He fingers his chin. "Well...do you want immediate results?"
"Why yes! My husband tried to kill me! Donald tried to kill me!"
Robert gets a strange look in his eyes before he jumps up from his desk and takes the woman in his arms. "Well, you won't need him anymore." He leans her back and kisses her.
She tries to push him away, but stops. How could she push that away? Although, he was nearly crushing her teeth with the pressure of his lips against hers.
In an instant he brought her back up and stared into her eyes. "Jess Jarlington...you are mine now. You won't ever have to worry about that old Donald again."
"Just hurry and clear off the desk, Robert."
Robert darts towards the desk...
...he..." her words drift off.
"What is it Mrs. Jarlington? What is it?"
"Well...he..." she pauses. "He tried to kill me," she blurts out.
"Tried to kill you..." He thinks for a moment. "You must be distraught!"
"Yes. I don't know why. Everything has ben fine, but suddenly, he just...changed..."
"How suspicious..." he says. He fingers his chin. "Well...do you want immediate results?"
"Why yes! My husband tried to kill me! Donald tried to kill me!"
Robert gets a strange look in his eyes before he jumps up from his desk and takes the woman in his arms. "Well, you won't need him anymore." He leans her back and kisses her.
She tries to push him away, but stops. How could she push that away? Although, he was nearly crushing her teeth with the pressure of his lips against hers.
In an instant he brought her back up and stared into her eyes. "Jess Jarlington...you are mine now. You won't ever have to worry about that old Donald again."
"Just hurry and clear off the desk, Robert."
Robert darts towards the desk...
"Life is trial and error. Those who succeed are those who survive their failures and keep trying." - LE Modesitt, Jr.
Genre - Sonnet
...that seemed so real in his mind. Little did he recall that he was sprawled amidst the filth and grime of the alley. Yet these words were upon his lips as he lay there:
Lascivious beauty on the desk top,
Luscious lips swell'd with passion's flame,
Firing the forge of lust--I cannot stop.
Our bodies entwine, you call out my name,
Driving the fury of Cupid's tempest.
Long moments pass, our emotions swelling.
Up and up we go, seeking the hill's crest
Yet it seems distant, forlorn, and telling.
Our bodies grow weary with the ascent,
Though Cupid's potion drives us onward
Past the boundaries of Earthly intent,
Urging us on and forever upward.
Our journey ends, joy upon our faces;
We sigh in bliss, bound by Cupid's traces.
With the last line uttered, a smile crossed Robert's face, and....
...that seemed so real in his mind. Little did he recall that he was sprawled amidst the filth and grime of the alley. Yet these words were upon his lips as he lay there:
Lascivious beauty on the desk top,
Luscious lips swell'd with passion's flame,
Firing the forge of lust--I cannot stop.
Our bodies entwine, you call out my name,
Driving the fury of Cupid's tempest.
Long moments pass, our emotions swelling.
Up and up we go, seeking the hill's crest
Yet it seems distant, forlorn, and telling.
Our bodies grow weary with the ascent,
Though Cupid's potion drives us onward
Past the boundaries of Earthly intent,
Urging us on and forever upward.
Our journey ends, joy upon our faces;
We sigh in bliss, bound by Cupid's traces.
With the last line uttered, a smile crossed Robert's face, and....
"A writer's chosen task is to write well and professionally. If you can't keep doing it, then you're no longer a professional, but a gifted amateur." L. E. Modessit, jr.
Genre: Sci-Fi – Feline Encounter
… he tripped and fell flat on his face back in the alley again. When is this stuff going to wear off. Then there were three bursts of multicolored light and Robert lifted his head out of his own vomit, looked up as saw three figures in skirts walking over towards him. His head was still splitting and his vision slightly foggy. No, they weren’t wearing skirts they were wearing kilts, kilts with a red and black Scottish pattern, broad leather utility belts with side arms and they were naked from the waste up.
Though one of the three was definitely feminine, the three were not human, more like a cross between humans and cats, lions more precisely. And not quite naked thought Robert, they were covered with fine fur.
“Check out the human Sulkaâ€
… he tripped and fell flat on his face back in the alley again. When is this stuff going to wear off. Then there were three bursts of multicolored light and Robert lifted his head out of his own vomit, looked up as saw three figures in skirts walking over towards him. His head was still splitting and his vision slightly foggy. No, they weren’t wearing skirts they were wearing kilts, kilts with a red and black Scottish pattern, broad leather utility belts with side arms and they were naked from the waste up.
Though one of the three was definitely feminine, the three were not human, more like a cross between humans and cats, lions more precisely. And not quite naked thought Robert, they were covered with fine fur.
“Check out the human Sulkaâ€
If ye love wealth better than liberty, the tranquility of servitude than the animating contest of freedom, go from us in peace. We ask not your counsels or arms. Crouch down and lick the hands which feed you. May your chains sit lightly upon you,
S Adams
S Adams
GENRE: Full Moon Party On Ko Pha Ngan
...and bloomed in his peripheral vision; he turned his head to examine the hues in more detail but the light quickly effervesced – its central mass splitting apart into dozens of smaller pseudopods which rocketed away like fleeing tadpoles and then silently imploded.
A thunderous bass-kick exploded from the amps, bringing lusty cheers from the dancers. Robert pulled his vision back and scanned the wide-eyed throng. Teeth flashed white in blacklight, throats beneath them swallowed. Up in the booth Larry leaned gracefully over the console, sharp Thai features glowing red in the light of the LEDs. A new drum line sidled against the first in low register and then rose, inexorable, flooding over in a delicious swell. The crowd roared its approval; fresh snarls and smiles split countless faces.
He spotted Sulka moving toward him through the sea of flailing limbs, face flushed. She almost ran into his arms.
"I was hoping you'd come!" she said in his ear, breath tickling. She held the embrace, gave a final squeeze before letting go. Her eyes were bright. "Did you -?"
Robert grinned. "Just started coming on. Have -?"
"Half an hour ago," she said, shifting from one foot to the other. "You're here for a while, right?"
"You kidding?"
She clapped her hands, bounced in place. Robert allowed his head to tilt back and took in the clear August sky. Millions of stars blinked sagely down upon the beach while the moon loomed full and ripe. Wet sand squelched pleasingly between his bare toes. He inhaled deeply, reverently, then...
...and bloomed in his peripheral vision; he turned his head to examine the hues in more detail but the light quickly effervesced – its central mass splitting apart into dozens of smaller pseudopods which rocketed away like fleeing tadpoles and then silently imploded.
A thunderous bass-kick exploded from the amps, bringing lusty cheers from the dancers. Robert pulled his vision back and scanned the wide-eyed throng. Teeth flashed white in blacklight, throats beneath them swallowed. Up in the booth Larry leaned gracefully over the console, sharp Thai features glowing red in the light of the LEDs. A new drum line sidled against the first in low register and then rose, inexorable, flooding over in a delicious swell. The crowd roared its approval; fresh snarls and smiles split countless faces.
He spotted Sulka moving toward him through the sea of flailing limbs, face flushed. She almost ran into his arms.
"I was hoping you'd come!" she said in his ear, breath tickling. She held the embrace, gave a final squeeze before letting go. Her eyes were bright. "Did you -?"
Robert grinned. "Just started coming on. Have -?"
"Half an hour ago," she said, shifting from one foot to the other. "You're here for a while, right?"
"You kidding?"
She clapped her hands, bounced in place. Robert allowed his head to tilt back and took in the clear August sky. Millions of stars blinked sagely down upon the beach while the moon loomed full and ripe. Wet sand squelched pleasingly between his bare toes. He inhaled deeply, reverently, then...
Colourless green ideas sleep furiously
GENRE: Scifi
SUBGENRE: Biotech Thriller
... awoke, and realized that he was in some sort of medical center. An oxygen mask was on his face, an IV was stuck in his left arm, and a console full of odd looking electronic equipment stood winking and blinking and beeping at him.
He turned his head the other war, and his round eyes met with the slitted ones of Doctor Sulka.
“Ah, you’re awake I see. Excellent.â€
SUBGENRE: Biotech Thriller
... awoke, and realized that he was in some sort of medical center. An oxygen mask was on his face, an IV was stuck in his left arm, and a console full of odd looking electronic equipment stood winking and blinking and beeping at him.
He turned his head the other war, and his round eyes met with the slitted ones of Doctor Sulka.
“Ah, you’re awake I see. Excellent.â€
-
Kahrey
- Fairy Tale Heroine - aka "Cinders"
- Posts: 3577
- Joined: Wed Mar 03, 2004 3:07 pm
- Location: Independence, MO
- Contact:
[Genre: Flashbacks]
...he sat on a black iron throne. Black flames lashed out from underneath it. In his hand, he loosely held a black scepter. Before him were myriads of people, all clothed in black. They were all bowing before him. The Great Angel of Darkness, Master of the Black Flames. He stared out amoung them. The room started to spin, everything became blurry, and then familiar images flashed in his mind, though he couldn't quite make out what they were.
He was leaning across a bar - in a bar. An old man stood across from him, holding a white powder. He wanted to say the man's name was Jeff or something like Swin or something, but he couldn't figure it out.
Still in the bar, something outside exploded and everything went dark. Then he was being chased by - something. A man. The visions were blurry and vague, it was hard to make anything out.
Then he was fighting Darb - that he remembered clearly. The Wizard War. That vision quickly faded into another.
He was in a dark office, with a tape recorder, speaking into it. A woman walked in and started talking, but he couldn't make out her words - or his.
Then he was in an alley. A dark alley. He could feel the nausea in his stomach.
Then he was in a house painting. A lovely woman was in the kitchen singing. He was looking for something, though he wasn't sure what it was he was looking for. He walked down a dark narrow flight of stairs, and then he was in the alley again. Three cat-like figures in skirts stood before him. Something happened, but the visions became even more blurry and he could not see.
Then, he lay on a table under a lamp. His privates were exposed and one of the cat-like figures hung over it with the lamp.
Then the visions left and he was back to the throne. The visions had been so familiar, but he didn't know why. He had been in them all. He couldn't figure what was wrong with him.
He stared out at the demons before him, but...
...he sat on a black iron throne. Black flames lashed out from underneath it. In his hand, he loosely held a black scepter. Before him were myriads of people, all clothed in black. They were all bowing before him. The Great Angel of Darkness, Master of the Black Flames. He stared out amoung them. The room started to spin, everything became blurry, and then familiar images flashed in his mind, though he couldn't quite make out what they were.
He was leaning across a bar - in a bar. An old man stood across from him, holding a white powder. He wanted to say the man's name was Jeff or something like Swin or something, but he couldn't figure it out.
Still in the bar, something outside exploded and everything went dark. Then he was being chased by - something. A man. The visions were blurry and vague, it was hard to make anything out.
Then he was fighting Darb - that he remembered clearly. The Wizard War. That vision quickly faded into another.
He was in a dark office, with a tape recorder, speaking into it. A woman walked in and started talking, but he couldn't make out her words - or his.
Then he was in an alley. A dark alley. He could feel the nausea in his stomach.
Then he was in a house painting. A lovely woman was in the kitchen singing. He was looking for something, though he wasn't sure what it was he was looking for. He walked down a dark narrow flight of stairs, and then he was in the alley again. Three cat-like figures in skirts stood before him. Something happened, but the visions became even more blurry and he could not see.
Then, he lay on a table under a lamp. His privates were exposed and one of the cat-like figures hung over it with the lamp.
Then the visions left and he was back to the throne. The visions had been so familiar, but he didn't know why. He had been in them all. He couldn't figure what was wrong with him.
He stared out at the demons before him, but...
"Life is trial and error. Those who succeed are those who survive their failures and keep trying." - LE Modesitt, Jr.
GENRE: Good Omens
...somehow felt that none had many helpful or constructive thoughts to offer. Demons, he reflected, rarely do. Superb at instilling great fear, even horror among the living; formidable when marched onto the field of spiritual battle; masters of snarls, screams, bloodthirsty war cries, of stripping flesh from bone and dreaming up endless varieties of mutilation – but their skills in the area of emotional counselling were less than stellar.
Just another indignity of my position, Robert thought with more than a little bitterness. What he wouldn’t give for a few seraphs of light and wisdom down here. Let’s see how Iehovah liked it if He voiced an emotional problem and all He got were grunts, halitosis, and acid spittle in His face.
He often thought how good it would be if he were able to give his Dark Legions a change of scene – or even just a change of wardrobe. All that endless black didn’t really allow one much latitude to accessorize. Why couldn’t they be the ‘Dusk Legions’ for an eon or two? Not too radical, still PC – just a new little flourish to liven things up in the ranks! Was there a crime in that? Did traditon have to be grasped so tightly that knuckles turned white? Or in this case, black?
He also had to admit his own moniker just didn’t pack the same punch for him as it had initially. ‘Great Angel of Darkess, Master Of Black Flames’ – so rigid, so bourgeoise, so 17th century. He hated the sound of it when he presented himself to new Legion members during intakes or to shareholders at the big Hades Executive Board meetings. Once or twice he’d even caught eyes rolling – and that had really messed with his already-fragile self-esteem.
He did have some knowledge of psychology which he’d gleaned from various human souls – he suspected he was suffering some form of Post-Underworld-Stress-Disorder, or perhaps Multiple-Spiritual-Entity-Syndrome.
Whatever the case, it was clear he needed some assistance fast. After many Hellfire evenings of pacing back and forth upon molten rock outcroppings and gazing listlessly about his become-boring Fiery Citadel, he seized upon an idea. He decided to...
...somehow felt that none had many helpful or constructive thoughts to offer. Demons, he reflected, rarely do. Superb at instilling great fear, even horror among the living; formidable when marched onto the field of spiritual battle; masters of snarls, screams, bloodthirsty war cries, of stripping flesh from bone and dreaming up endless varieties of mutilation – but their skills in the area of emotional counselling were less than stellar.
Just another indignity of my position, Robert thought with more than a little bitterness. What he wouldn’t give for a few seraphs of light and wisdom down here. Let’s see how Iehovah liked it if He voiced an emotional problem and all He got were grunts, halitosis, and acid spittle in His face.
He often thought how good it would be if he were able to give his Dark Legions a change of scene – or even just a change of wardrobe. All that endless black didn’t really allow one much latitude to accessorize. Why couldn’t they be the ‘Dusk Legions’ for an eon or two? Not too radical, still PC – just a new little flourish to liven things up in the ranks! Was there a crime in that? Did traditon have to be grasped so tightly that knuckles turned white? Or in this case, black?
He also had to admit his own moniker just didn’t pack the same punch for him as it had initially. ‘Great Angel of Darkess, Master Of Black Flames’ – so rigid, so bourgeoise, so 17th century. He hated the sound of it when he presented himself to new Legion members during intakes or to shareholders at the big Hades Executive Board meetings. Once or twice he’d even caught eyes rolling – and that had really messed with his already-fragile self-esteem.
He did have some knowledge of psychology which he’d gleaned from various human souls – he suspected he was suffering some form of Post-Underworld-Stress-Disorder, or perhaps Multiple-Spiritual-Entity-Syndrome.
Whatever the case, it was clear he needed some assistance fast. After many Hellfire evenings of pacing back and forth upon molten rock outcroppings and gazing listlessly about his become-boring Fiery Citadel, he seized upon an idea. He decided to...
Colourless green ideas sleep furiously
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Kahrey
- Fairy Tale Heroine - aka "Cinders"
- Posts: 3577
- Joined: Wed Mar 03, 2004 3:07 pm
- Location: Independence, MO
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[Genre: Just Modern Day]
...a young girl walks through the streets. "He must be somewhere..." she whispers to herself. "I must have the nojshe!"
She wears ragged blue jeans and a tight shirt which has been ripped, exposing the top of her large breasts and her stomach. Her hair has grown to an enormous length and it flows softly in the cool breeze. Her fierce glaring eyes stare up at the sun which shines brightly over the city. She feels a tickle in her nose, and then sneezes.
"Have you got the nojshe?"
She approaches a middle-aged man. "No."
"What?!" He becomes angry. "I want that nojshe! What is taking you so long?!"
"I'm sorry, Arkan, I'm trying. You know I am."
"It's just taking you so long. You should have had it by now."
"I can't catch sight of him. I think he may have some sort of drug or a device that enables him to change shape or form. Maybe even change from human to animal or something."
"I think you're right, Sahryn. We need to get him though."
"Yeah, cos I need the moeny you're giving me for doing this for you."
Arkan looks at the girl. "I'll give you money for other things, Sahryn."
A disgusted expression shows on her face. "Never. Not with you." She looks him up and down once more before sighing and looking away.
"Fine. Be gone!" He gestures with his arms for her to go.
She has turned around to walk off, but at his words turns back and...
...a young girl walks through the streets. "He must be somewhere..." she whispers to herself. "I must have the nojshe!"
She wears ragged blue jeans and a tight shirt which has been ripped, exposing the top of her large breasts and her stomach. Her hair has grown to an enormous length and it flows softly in the cool breeze. Her fierce glaring eyes stare up at the sun which shines brightly over the city. She feels a tickle in her nose, and then sneezes.
"Have you got the nojshe?"
She approaches a middle-aged man. "No."
"What?!" He becomes angry. "I want that nojshe! What is taking you so long?!"
"I'm sorry, Arkan, I'm trying. You know I am."
"It's just taking you so long. You should have had it by now."
"I can't catch sight of him. I think he may have some sort of drug or a device that enables him to change shape or form. Maybe even change from human to animal or something."
"I think you're right, Sahryn. We need to get him though."
"Yeah, cos I need the moeny you're giving me for doing this for you."
Arkan looks at the girl. "I'll give you money for other things, Sahryn."
A disgusted expression shows on her face. "Never. Not with you." She looks him up and down once more before sighing and looking away.
"Fine. Be gone!" He gestures with his arms for her to go.
She has turned around to walk off, but at his words turns back and...
"Life is trial and error. Those who succeed are those who survive their failures and keep trying." - LE Modesitt, Jr.
[genre odd sci-fi]
… Rapidly melts into a pool of silver liquid on the ground.
Arkan stares at the small puddle in disbelief.
“What? What’s the matter?â€
… Rapidly melts into a pool of silver liquid on the ground.
Arkan stares at the small puddle in disbelief.
“What? What’s the matter?â€
- Mr. Dude
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"You love life because life's all there is." — Glen Duncan, The Last Werewolf
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"You love life because life's all there is." — Glen Duncan, The Last Werewolf
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Kahrey
- Fairy Tale Heroine - aka "Cinders"
- Posts: 3577
- Joined: Wed Mar 03, 2004 3:07 pm
- Location: Independence, MO
- Contact:
[Genre: I dunno]
...he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting. After a moment of silence, he peeked around. He was alive. He looked around, everything seemed to be normal. He looked down at his body, he was fine. Was it his imagination?
"Sahryn?"
"Yeah?" she asks, pulling herself off the ground and rubbing her back at the same time.
"You okay?"
"I guess. What was that?"
"I don't know."
Suddenly, the earth began to shake violently. Screams were heard throughout the city. Then, tall buildings began to fall. Arkan hurriedly grabbed Sahryn and began to run with her. His run was stopped abruptly by the appearance of a black robed figure. The figure held an enormous sword. Arkan turned to run away, but was quickly stopped by a slash in the back. He let out a yell in pain and fell to the ground.
Sahryn stood immediately, watching the figure.
"Sahryn." It said.
She continued to stare.
"Sahryn..." The figure removed the hood and let her see his face. It was Robert.
"Robert?" she asks.
"Sahryn, it's me. Hurry, come with me, we haven't much time."
She looks down at Arkan's body and quickly follows her long lost lover. Robert takes her hand and quickly leads her to an opening in thr ground, from which spits forth fire.
"Jump in, Sahryn. You have to."
"I can't Robert. I can't."
"I have sheilded you, you'll be safe. Go ahead, hurry."
She looks at Robert, then at the pit. She...
...he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting. After a moment of silence, he peeked around. He was alive. He looked around, everything seemed to be normal. He looked down at his body, he was fine. Was it his imagination?
"Sahryn?"
"Yeah?" she asks, pulling herself off the ground and rubbing her back at the same time.
"You okay?"
"I guess. What was that?"
"I don't know."
Suddenly, the earth began to shake violently. Screams were heard throughout the city. Then, tall buildings began to fall. Arkan hurriedly grabbed Sahryn and began to run with her. His run was stopped abruptly by the appearance of a black robed figure. The figure held an enormous sword. Arkan turned to run away, but was quickly stopped by a slash in the back. He let out a yell in pain and fell to the ground.
Sahryn stood immediately, watching the figure.
"Sahryn." It said.
She continued to stare.
"Sahryn..." The figure removed the hood and let her see his face. It was Robert.
"Robert?" she asks.
"Sahryn, it's me. Hurry, come with me, we haven't much time."
She looks down at Arkan's body and quickly follows her long lost lover. Robert takes her hand and quickly leads her to an opening in thr ground, from which spits forth fire.
"Jump in, Sahryn. You have to."
"I can't Robert. I can't."
"I have sheilded you, you'll be safe. Go ahead, hurry."
She looks at Robert, then at the pit. She...
"Life is trial and error. Those who succeed are those who survive their failures and keep trying." - LE Modesitt, Jr.
[genre: ?]
... Never enjoyed doing this. It would be the last time. No more, she just had to finish this.
"Leave Robert, I can't hold this off forever!"
Shivers traveled down her spine as Robert turned and started to run. It was necessary. Quickly she undid her coat and pulled out the glimmering dagger. It was necessary, she must be quick and accurate.
The dagger screamed through the air with deadly precision. It whistled and gleamed in the low sunlight. Robert sensed something was wrong and quickly turned around. There was no time for a surprised look, a gasp, no look of despair, no hand coming up to block the deadly blade dripping in poison. It hit the middle of his throat with a dull thunk, and he simply fell backward as though the dagger were heavy enough to take him off his feet.
She walked towards him, tears streaming from her eyes. She lifted her foot over the hilt and squeezed her eyes shut as she stomped down hard. Her stomach now tensed at what she had to do next. She opened her eyes and knelt down beside Richard's cold body. It was for the best anyway, her task would not be complete without this. She kissed his mouth sweetly and quickly withdrew the dagger. She raised the dagger above his chest and quickly jabbed it downward, jerking quickly. Her task was complete. She with withdrew the dagger and quickly put his war heart in a leather pouch.
She could hear flames crackling behind her
"It's you. I knew you would come when I was done."
A dark voice boomed in reply, the earth shook with furry at his response
"...
... Never enjoyed doing this. It would be the last time. No more, she just had to finish this.
"Leave Robert, I can't hold this off forever!"
Shivers traveled down her spine as Robert turned and started to run. It was necessary. Quickly she undid her coat and pulled out the glimmering dagger. It was necessary, she must be quick and accurate.
The dagger screamed through the air with deadly precision. It whistled and gleamed in the low sunlight. Robert sensed something was wrong and quickly turned around. There was no time for a surprised look, a gasp, no look of despair, no hand coming up to block the deadly blade dripping in poison. It hit the middle of his throat with a dull thunk, and he simply fell backward as though the dagger were heavy enough to take him off his feet.
She walked towards him, tears streaming from her eyes. She lifted her foot over the hilt and squeezed her eyes shut as she stomped down hard. Her stomach now tensed at what she had to do next. She opened her eyes and knelt down beside Richard's cold body. It was for the best anyway, her task would not be complete without this. She kissed his mouth sweetly and quickly withdrew the dagger. She raised the dagger above his chest and quickly jabbed it downward, jerking quickly. Her task was complete. She with withdrew the dagger and quickly put his war heart in a leather pouch.
She could hear flames crackling behind her
"It's you. I knew you would come when I was done."
A dark voice boomed in reply, the earth shook with furry at his response
"...
- Mr. Dude
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"You love life because life's all there is." — Glen Duncan, The Last Werewolf
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"You love life because life's all there is." — Glen Duncan, The Last Werewolf
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Kahrey
- Fairy Tale Heroine - aka "Cinders"
- Posts: 3577
- Joined: Wed Mar 03, 2004 3:07 pm
- Location: Independence, MO
- Contact:
[Genre: Fantasy]
"...You are right Robert, you are done. Your ashes shall ride on the Winds of Hell. Your soul forever to be chained and tortured..." The voice was deep and demonic, and came from the girl, who's eyes glowed red.
Robert lie helplessly on the ground, watching the girl. She was the Deciever. In fact, she wasn't a she at all. She was not his dear lover at all, she was Darb. He had felt something funny about it, but did not heed his feelings.
"You are finished Robert. I told you that you could never defeat me." Darb changed his figure from that of Sahryn to his own, though it be charred and wounded from the Wizard War. Why had he not healed himself? Had Robert taken some of his abilities?
Suddenly, just as Darb turned around laughing his diabolical laugh, he was hit in the back of his head. It was a black flame.
He spun around to see Robert struggling to raise an arm. He was using the last bit of his energy. Through the Black Fires of Hell, Darb began to shoot forth his white shafts and set up an invisible sheild around himself. Surprisingly, the shafts never reached Robert. They bounced off from around him and flew back towards Darb. After three of his own arrows pierced through his shield, lightning came from the heavens and burnt his body to nothing.
Robert limply rolled on his back from his side, and laid there, thinking he was about to die. Sudenly, lightning crashed into his body, but it did not burn him. Rather, he recieved all the power that Darb had possessed. After several minutes, the lightning was recived back into the Heavens and Robert lay unconscious.
When he awoke...
"...You are right Robert, you are done. Your ashes shall ride on the Winds of Hell. Your soul forever to be chained and tortured..." The voice was deep and demonic, and came from the girl, who's eyes glowed red.
Robert lie helplessly on the ground, watching the girl. She was the Deciever. In fact, she wasn't a she at all. She was not his dear lover at all, she was Darb. He had felt something funny about it, but did not heed his feelings.
"You are finished Robert. I told you that you could never defeat me." Darb changed his figure from that of Sahryn to his own, though it be charred and wounded from the Wizard War. Why had he not healed himself? Had Robert taken some of his abilities?
Suddenly, just as Darb turned around laughing his diabolical laugh, he was hit in the back of his head. It was a black flame.
He spun around to see Robert struggling to raise an arm. He was using the last bit of his energy. Through the Black Fires of Hell, Darb began to shoot forth his white shafts and set up an invisible sheild around himself. Surprisingly, the shafts never reached Robert. They bounced off from around him and flew back towards Darb. After three of his own arrows pierced through his shield, lightning came from the heavens and burnt his body to nothing.
Robert limply rolled on his back from his side, and laid there, thinking he was about to die. Sudenly, lightning crashed into his body, but it did not burn him. Rather, he recieved all the power that Darb had possessed. After several minutes, the lightning was recived back into the Heavens and Robert lay unconscious.
When he awoke...
"Life is trial and error. Those who succeed are those who survive their failures and keep trying." - LE Modesitt, Jr.
[comedy]
Dew covered the ground. A cold chill still resounded in his bones. His arms felt like lead weights and he could only seem to move them in a flailing fashion. The birds were chirping, the sun was rising over the tree tops and he continued to flail his arms wildly. It suddenly occurred to him that this was accomplishing little more than a good flailing and he proceeded to do the same with his legs in hopes of getting up.
Meanwhile off in the distance, actually just over a small hill, walked a very short man named George. He had been walking for quite some time and now was quite hungry. He trudged along kicking rocks and mumbling to himself about baked goods and dried fruit. “Scones and apricotsâ€
Dew covered the ground. A cold chill still resounded in his bones. His arms felt like lead weights and he could only seem to move them in a flailing fashion. The birds were chirping, the sun was rising over the tree tops and he continued to flail his arms wildly. It suddenly occurred to him that this was accomplishing little more than a good flailing and he proceeded to do the same with his legs in hopes of getting up.
Meanwhile off in the distance, actually just over a small hill, walked a very short man named George. He had been walking for quite some time and now was quite hungry. He trudged along kicking rocks and mumbling to himself about baked goods and dried fruit. “Scones and apricotsâ€
- Mr. Dude
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"You love life because life's all there is." — Glen Duncan, The Last Werewolf
Google Profile
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"You love life because life's all there is." — Glen Duncan, The Last Werewolf