Volleyball 2004

[Aunflin]

All right, here's the new Volleyball thread.

Rules:

1. GENRE HOPPING: Just to make things interesting, each new post must switch to a different genre style (i.e, Sci Fi, Horror, Gumshoe Mystery, Romance, Fantasy, Juvenile, Comedy, Anime/Cartoon, Superheroes, etc.). You must announce that genre at the top of your post, before actually beginning.

2. CONTINUITY: A given post must end abruptly, in mid-story, with an elipsis (...) and the next person to post MUST pick up immediately where the previous post left off, using their new genre style - after that, all bets are off. You can steer the story wherever you wish, being as conservative, or as crazy as you desire.

3. TURNS: Participants are not allowed to respond to their own posts - after you post, you must wait for at least 1 other person to post before posting again. To avoid crossing posts, we'll use a 'token key' system - if the thread appears open, and waiting for a response, post "OK, MY TURN" ... after that, you have up to ONE HOUR to make your post. If more than one hour goes by, it's thrown open to all comers who wish to declare it's THEIR turn. However, if nobody else has claimed the turn by the time your delayed post is ready, then go ahead and post it.
n.b. - once you have grabbed your turn - for your post simply "edit" your turn lock. Dropped tokens will at some stage be edited out...

4. EFFORT: Dont trivialize - put a little effort into making your post interesting & entertaining, otherwise there's no point in playing. Be as funny, or as serious as you like. The whole point is to have a little mutual fun bouncing around a constantly evolving plot - like a crowd with a beach ball.

5. LENGTH: There is no minimum or maximum length for any given post - provided you can write it in less than 1 hour.

6. RATING: The forum is essentially PG13 - we will exercise some lattitude in this area - but if you wish to cross the line you do so at the risk of censorship!

OK - one thing I noticed on the previous vollyball - was that rule #1 was only given a cursory observance.

We could have done a great deal better - maybe we could keep it fun and alive by keeping a leaderboard going...

There are a few things that this could depend on - but should have a somewhat impartial judge - ie someone not participating who can keep the scoreboard up... [Volunteer anyone?] It should be possible to have someone who has previously participated drop out temporarily to be rotated in as a guest judge. This would give the main judge a bit of time off and a chance to occasionaly participate themself...

I would suggest that we maintain a commentary and the vollyball field itself - just like last time.

Scoring Rules:

1] Post count [This is more for keeping an easy eye on active participants]
2] Originality [has this material been used before on this thread]
3] Humour [Can this post be considered truly funny]
4] Continuity [Did this post successfully close on the preceding post]
5] Rule Breakers [should be obious... ]

Each post is eligable for 1 point in each category - The idea with category 5] of course is to keep your score low!

All right, anyone wanna get it started?

[felonius]

GENRE: urban contemporary

"...shut it down at three," Eliot was saying as I reached the bar. "Three, can you believe it? Half the people there had only arrived an hour before. Most of 'em were just coming up on their pills, for Christ's sake. Then pow, f**k off, thank you very much for coming. The stiffs fill their quota at the door and then don't give anyone a chance to bloody well enjoy themselves. DJ's pissed. Then I'm dealing with hordes coming up to me saying, 'Eliot, what the f**k's going on mate? Just got here man, paid thirty at the door!'." He noticed me then. "Why do I work for these people, Russell? Can you tell me why?"

"So get a day job," I said.

"Bugger that. Punching a clock like a good little drone and dealing with who-bloody-cares office politics to sell widgets to stiffs who sell them to other stiffs and think they're bad asses when they go out drinking Labatt's at Crocodile Rock?"

"So work freelance," I said. "You've got enough connections. Throw your own party."

"Come on," Jeff broke in. "Where's he gonna get the capital for that?"

"Sell drugs," I said, pleased with the segue. "Speaking of which, anything still kicking around?"

Jeff dragged deeply on his cigarette and reached...

[Aunflin]

[Genre - sci-fi, sort of ]

...into his front pants pocket, producing a wad of handkerchief wrapped around some unidentifiable object. "Nothing much other that this." Jeff handed me the wad, his eyes darting this way and that. I flashed a grin as I accepted the unknown object. "Got it from off-world," said Jeff after another drag on his cigarette. "It's not much--but it's better than the crap I've been getting lately."

"What is it?" I asked as I unfolded the faded blue handkerchief. I frowned. They looked like jewels of some sort--multihued and brilliant. "Never seen anything like this." I frowned in puzzlement.

"They call it nojshe--or something like that." Jeff laughed. "Don't ask me what it means. Those aliens have some weird languages. But it does the trick--if you know what I mean." Jeff took another hard drag on his cigarette.

"So, what does it do?" I could not fathom how to use the crystals--or what they would do to me.

"It induces a psychedelic euphoria...takes you to a whole new level of reality."

"But how do I take it?"

A wicked grin flashed across Jeff's face. "Well, my friend..."

[felonius]

GENRE: Hardy Boys Mystery

"...let's just say it involves a bit of dexterity and washing your hands when you're done is highly recommended."

There was a pause while his words sunk in.

"Sounds a little strange!" exclaimed Joe brightly. "Maybe this is the break we've been waiting for!"

"Hold on," cautioned Frank. "I still think we should wait and ask Dad about it."

"Aww, c'mon," Joe replied, eyes dancing. "You know he won't be back till at least Monday. We could have the case solved by then and have a real story to tell him!"

Frank shared his brother's eagerness, but still - something didn't seem quite right...

He addressed the mysterious man again. "Tell me, Mr...what was it..."

"Nojshe," repeated the old timer. His voice was low and rough and his hands were gnarled.

He could use some of Mom's apple cobbler, thought Joe. At that moment...

[Aunflin]

[Genre: stream-of-consciousness]

...he cannot help but wonder at the oddness of the world. He looks at Jeff, Russel, Frank, and Joe... Where did they come from? Where am I anyway? The world moves about him. Tall, gray structures fill up the grim, smog-filled expanses of the sky. A bubbling maelstrom of sounds, of voices floods his ears, followed by a sense of disorientation. Must stay calm. His breath quickens. Must be having a bad trip. I'll just walk away.

"Where you going, Robert?" calls a voice. Cannot reply; will not acknowledge them. Must get away as fast as possible. His footsteps quicken. Robert moves through the crowd at a frenetic pace, his eyes darting this way and that. A large man with a grey-streaked black beard, a woman who looks to be a man dressed as a woman, an elderly couple striding hand-in-hand, young couples, businessmen in blue suites...He shakes his head as he pushes through the mass of humanity. Must get away. Hide in darkness away from the constant terror, the fear, the overwhelming anxiety of life.

His pace slows. The crowd is at a standstill. What can ever be happening. Robert stands on his tiptoes trying to see. Nothing. Only an endless array of human heads. He looks down at his feet, frowning. "Just want to go home," he mumbles, an image arising in his mind at these words. Warmth, comfort, peace, solitude--and fresh air not stinking of pollution and human sweat. A smile crosses his face followed by an expression of extreme worry. Oh, crap! I left the coffeepot on. The house will be burnt to the ground. A gutted structure. Charred and blackened brick. Everything meaningful in my life gone.

Desperate now, Robert pushes his way further into the crowd...

[felonius]

GENRE: Vomit-Inducing Romance

...of onlookers that have gathered, heart racing - it couldn't be, his mind babbled, not her, not my Shnookums, my sweet little hellcat, the Fates could not, WOULD NOT be so cruel...

He elbows the last rubber-necker out of his way and stands over the broken body, all twisted limbs and pooling blood - heart-wrenchingly beautiful and elegant even in roadkill form.

And what was that, clutched in her hand, almost out of sight? A tiny flash of gold. Robert's stomach lurches into his throat as he recognizes the necklace, purchased for only ten bucks from the same guy who always had the good blow. She'd gushed when he'd shown it to her - ('Oh baby, I love native art,') - how could she be gone now, how could he go on without her carefree laugh, her welfare cheques?

Before he could gather his thoughts...

[Kahrey]

[Genre: Fantasy]

...he hears hooves clapping upon the stone-paved road on which he sits holding his love. He looks up to see a large black horse with a rider, which is hooded and dressed fully in black. An evil darkness swirls about the rider as he slowly approaches him.

"Robert..." the black rider says. His voice booms through the air. Lightning flashes and thunder shakes the earth as he speaks.

Robert gently drops his dead consort back to the ground and stands slowly backing away.

The rider continues to come closer, the evil darkness become clearer and more prevalent. "Robert..."

Lightning burns the sky and strikes the earth before him. He jumps back in fright and begins to run, but quickly stops as he sees another rider, but with a drawn flaming sword.

The two riders quickly close in on him, though the walk slowly. The darkness envelopes him completely. His heart burns as he is thrust through with the flaming sword. He lets out a yell, which goes unheard, and lets his body go limp, though he falls slowly and gently. Boiling blood sinks between the stones and rushes like a river, multiplying. He takes a last breath before the blood drowns him.

He sits moments later, his mind spinning, unaware of what has happened. His eyes dart around him, but he recognizes nothing. Then, he realizes...

[Darb]

[Genre: Twin Peaks]

... that he’s himself again.

Elliot, still behind the bar, watched young Joe’s eyes refocus after their brief sojourn in psychedelia. He glanced warily at the nugget of nojshe in Jeff’s gnarled hands.

“Jesus Jeff ... all you did was hold it up in front of the kid and exhale on it, and he turned all glassy eyed for a minute !â€

[felonius]

GENRE: Horror

"...Jesus..."

Eliot heard the clunk of a dropped flashlight followed closely by a muffled thud, like a baseball bat slapped hard against a rain-soaked sack of grain. The wetness of it sent scores of tiny razors flitting into his stomach and against his chest.

He raced in the direction of the sound, the beam of his own flashlight dancing crazily upon the walls of the cave, his boot impacts on the gravel as loud as gunshots.

"Frank?" he yelled, except the yell came out more like an asthmatic gasp. "Frank man?"

As he inhaled for another try his left foot came up against an immovable object and he went sprawling, flashlight sailing from his grasp and shattering somewhere in the blackness ahead. Sharp sediment cut into his cheek and he felt a wet warmth there. He pulled himself up and continued forward blindly, hands splayed in front of him like some deranged Boris Karloff.

"Frank!" he managed, louder this time.

Then without warning, he became aware of a mass at his feet - bending down he felt the unmistakable texture of Frank's Gore-Tex pullover.

Gotta check for a pulse he thought, feeling for the neck...

The seconds ticked by, became heavier, sliding like melting ice on a warm windowpane as he realized that Frank's head was gone.

Without warning there was a...

[friendforlife]

{genre = comedy}

... there was a loud explsion.

Eliot turned around. A gas station just blew up. He rushes over the scene.

There, next to the fire stood a clown. He was all ugly looking. Red Hair all over, tore up clothes, and most noticably, he actually had a arrow going through his head.

Eliot says "Is your head OK?"
Clown "Oh, Ill be fine. Old battle scar."
"Battlescar?" Eliot replies.
"Oh yeah, I was wondering throught Nebraska and they still have Indians living there." The clown says akwardly.
"Im out of here." Eliot goes. He suddenly sprints off. And behind him, the clown is following.
"For the love of God, leave me alone!" Eliot cries out loud.

The mad clown then ...

[Kahrey]

[genre = modern fantasy]

...stares at them piercingly. He stands unmoving as black clouds roll in at supernatural speed. Lightning electrifies the sky and the earth goes black with violent trembling.

Elliot and the others nearly fall to the ground as everything seems to spin. Blood red light begins to flash across the earth, enveloping them in stuffy suffocation. Abruptly, everything stops and the earth is once again black, but for only a moment.

Lightning flashes once more, and freezes in the air. In the doorway stands a dark figure, dressed fully in black. His eyes glow red and blood drips from the corners of his mouth.

Elliot lets out a frightened yell and looks aside. Jeff lies on the floor, looking unconscious. Elliot looks back to the doorway, but it is empty. The lightning remains frozen in the sky.

He rushes to Jeff and notices two puncture wounds on his neck. He checks for a pulse. Nothing.

He jumps up and spins around. There lie Frank - headless. Elliot crumples into the floor in helplessness. He closes his eyes, trying to make everything go away, but only opens them to see the dark figure staring back at him.

"Nooooo!!" he yells. He jumps up and makes a violent dash to the door, where he runs outside. The gas station explosion remains in frozen view. Everything is so unmoving. So dead. He feels frozen also. So helpless. Where are the others? What is going on? What has happened? If only he knew.

He begins to run, looking back at the dark figure that comes towards him with supernatural speed.

"Elliot...." a deep voice whispers through his mind. "Elliot. You can stop running, there is nothing you can do."

Elliot continues to run as he grips his head tightly.

"Stop running. It's hopeless. There is no one that can help you."

"Nooo!!" Elliot screams. He continues to grip his head and his pace slows as he tires. He thrashes his head about, trying to erase the voice that is there.

He falls to the hard pavement of the highway, which he has been running down since he reached it. He stares up at the frozen sky, his head leaking blood onto the road. The sky begins falling...falling on his helpless self. His energy has left him. He can do nothing. His mind is filled with hopelessness as the sky and all the elements crash onto his body. He feels no pain, only ecstasy. He had thought it would be painful.

The smile crosses his face and he realizes he has been bitten. He is a vampire. And he is hungry. He sits up and...

[Darb]

[GENRE: Japanese Anime] <-- in honor of my new “Vlad’s Minionâ€

[Aunflin]

Genre - Yugi-Oh!

...a deck of cards. "No. She is not!" The holder of the cards was no more than a youth, his pale blue eyes wide and innocent, yet somehow filled with a sense of age and wisdom. His blondish hair stood of end, spiked and pointy.

"Who are you to say such?" said Elliot, his eyes flashing a wicked red. The hunger was upon him. Three more victims would do nicely. He smiled wickedly. "You are but a boy. How can you hope to contest me--a Vampire!"

The youngster's face took on a strange cast...something changed about him. He drew a random card from his deck. "Dark Magician!" A figure in dark robes coalesced from nowhere armed with a long staff. "Attack!"

Espressionless, the Dark Magician raised his staff, his dark eyes cold as ice. Brilliant flame erupted from the staff, a beam of light flaring toward Elliot and Sayaka....

[Darb]

[Genre: Magic - The Gathering]

... and engulfed the vampire, dispelling it.

Sayaka’s eyes cleared rapidly, and she stood blinking for a moment. She took in the scene at a glance, knotted her fists, closed her eyes, leaned forward, and began yelling shrilly at the top of her girlish voice.

“Youspikyhairedlittleidiothowdareyoudispellmynewboyfriend ?!â€

[felonius]

GENRE: Young Adult

...throwing caution to the wind, he walked toward her, ignoring the knots in his stomach and the dull throb at his temples.

He could feel the eyes of his companions burning a hole into his back, willing him to fail.

Be cool, he thought. Just be cool...

Sayaka was deeply absorbed in what looked like a journal, her raven black hair spilling down over the white page. Asuriel preened as usual in front of her seemingly omnipresent hand mirror. Neither of them noticed Yugi as he reached their place by the fountain and stood over them, his larynx suddenly and magnificently bereft of life.

Why is my arm hanging like that? he thought distantly.

Asuriel caught his shadow then and glanced up, eyebrows raising slightly and her upper lip taking on a subtle curl of disdain. It was - Yugi realized - her normal expression.

"Do you want something?" she asked. Her tone was one of a feudal mistress addressing a serf in the fields.

Sayaka raised her head - God! Every motion was grace! - and regarded him, her eyes questioning but not unfriendly.

"Hey. Hello. Hey-ho," Yugi said. Oh, goddamn it.

Asuriel's eyebrows went up an additonal two millimeters.

"Hi there," Sayaka said pleasantly, after a beat.

Come on! Ask her if she'll...

[Darb]

GENRE: Screenplay Script

YUGI-OH (internal mental voiceover)

... meet me someplace to share a pop and do a little card trading. Don’t be a wimp You can do it.

The camera switches back and forth between Yugi and Sayaka ... the former obviously intent on making the latter’s acquaintance, and the latter intent on getting caught up on her journal entries for the evening while deciding whether or not to let her latest suitor crash and burn.

And we pull back and cut to --

CLOSING CREDITS:

Standard random montage of snippits from all prior episodes to date, all rapidly intercut together with the usual music soundtrack.

NARRATOR (voiceover):

That’s all for this episode of IBDoF Vollyball folks. Tune in next time to see if Yugi-oh and Sayaka become an item, and to find out more about the mysterious old timer. Adult Swim is next. All kids out of the pool !

Kevin Palmer Productions Ltd, all rights reserved.

FADE OUT

---------------------------
IBDoF EPISODE #15: Crystal Dreams
By Brad_H

TEASER FADE IN: (shot on film)

INT. BAR FROM EPISODE 1

Elliot (still behind the bar), Frank, Joe, and Robert are still standing motionless at the far end of the bar. All four are still deep in the nojshe trance, their drinks untouched since the old timer’s departure several minutes earlier.

Meanwhile, in a distant corner of the bar, a figure reclines in the shadows, smoking a cigarette, and calmly observing everyone. He’s apparently been there all along, but nobody noticed because the camera never panned in his direction.

Snubbing out his cigarette, and exhaling a lungful of cancer, he slips out of his chair, and glides out of the bar with an oily grace that’s hard to follow. It quickly becomes apparent to the viewer that this is someone who’s spent many years perfecting the art of being unobtrusive.

INT. HALLWAY

The figure glides down the hallway, past the usual payphone and cigarette machine nestled between a deuce of restrooms, past the coat room, and through the back door into the service alley. The alleyway’s dark, and most of it is taken up by a large battered green dumpster marked “Palmer Trash Haulersâ€

[felonius]

GENRE: Epistolary

...gotta be one of Quint's lackeys, wrote Gard. He paused to light a fresh cigarette, then bent over the keyboard again.

Should Joshua give chase? Might stretch credibility since he's just been clubbed in the chest - although the audience is gonna see how much of a badass he is later anyway...hmmm...maybe his eyes should be hazel instead of brown...

If he does give chase, and catches the lackey, there's definitely gotta be a flurry of adept chocky-socky from both of 'em when they go at it - it'll establish that they're both pros - or at least, that the lackey's competent but no real contest for our hero. Gard stopped again, brought up the screenplay window and skimmed the text once more. Switched back to his notes.

Hope the director's down with 'oily grace', he wrote. Wonder if Palmer's made his decision on that new guy they're considering over from Warner? I think he did a few Twin Peaks and Northern Exposures, didn't he? His cigarette smouldered forgotten in the ashtray.

God, here you are again. Blabbing to yourself in these goddamn notes when you should be doing five or six pages a night on the scripts. Gotta have this sucker finished in three days.

The phone rang then. Gard picked up what was left of the smoke, reached across the desk, and lifted the receiver. "Hello?"

...Gard! Gard, is that you?" It was Susan's voice. "Listen, I don't have time to expain, but you have to..."

[Darb]

GENRE: Soap Opera (“As the IBDoF Turnsâ€

[Kahrey]

[Genre: Horror]

...the nojshe has kicked in again and Robert is unaware of who he is or where he is.

He looks at the world around him. Liquid moonlight pours over him. Stars twinkle brightly overhead. Everything seems fine.

Suddenly, everything begins to spin. He realizes he cannot stand alone, and drops to the ground, which feels like iron. Below him forms a grate. He looks down in horror and tries to crawl away, but he can't. It's everywhere.

The iron turns hot. Hot as fire. He yells in agony, but he cannot escape it. He looks around desperately. Everything has turned black.

"Damned to hell!" Screams a voice. He cannot find where the voice comes from.

He continues to yell in agony. He is spinning so fast he cannot stand, but the iron grate underneath him burns his skin harshly.

He starts to feel suffocated. The air grows thicker and thicker, he can scarcely breathe.

The voice yells out once more, this time with a laugh.

Robert falls flat on the hot grate and grips his throat, struggling for breath. The blackness around him is consuming him.

Suddenly, the grate begins to glow red. It becomes hotter and hotter. All is silent, for he cannot breathe. Bright red and yellow light begins to glow from underneath him. Then, flames spurt from every square in the grate, consuming him completely. He thrashes his body about, but it does no good.

Once he has burned, his body turns to ashes, where it drops through the grate and falls below. The ashes begin to stir, driven by the four winds which blow in all directions. The ashes swirl and spin, creating a whirlwind. Suddenly, his body reforms.

He looks around, taking deep breaths. He is in a pit. Above him is the grate. How will he escape? Will he be stuck there forever? What will he do?

He shakes his arm in pain, and a black, whisp-like arrow shoots from his fingertips. He jumps back in fear, wondering what has happened. The arrow pierces the iron floors, sticking straight up.

He looks at it, and quickly walks away, wandering into an unknown passage, lit by fire. He starts to hear screams - screams of agony. As he walks deeper and deeper, he starts to see visions. Dead deteriorated bodies reaching for him and moaning in agony. Skeletons chained. He grips his head to make them go away, though it doesn't work.

"GO AWAY!!!!!!" He yells. At his voice, everything quiets and he sees nothing but the passage before him. He wanders deeper, until he finds a great room, completely of iron. A small fire in the center casts enough light for him to see.

The small fire suddenly explodes into a much larger one reaching the high ceiling. Robert jumps back in fear, and stares at the mighty fire.

"In the depths of hell you wander."

Robert looks around, but sees no one.

"So, you defeat me, then you will rule hell until you are defeated."

Robert looks horrified. Rule hell? Fight who? With what?

A dark figure steps into view. He stands, not saying a word.

Robert stares at him, then suddenly another back arrow flares from Robert and pierces the mysterious figure right through the heart. The figure staggers and doubles over. "Magnificent powers..."

Robert is frozen in horror, yet thoroughly confused. What had happened? Had he defeated him already?

The figure conceals a grin as he stands bolt upright. "You'll have to do better than that." His evil laugh carries through the place. He flicks his hand and a flaming white arrow heads straight for Robert, who...

[Aunflin]

genre--I don't know...

...tumbles out of the way. What in the hell is this? he wonders, fear pulsing throughout his being as the brilliant white arrow shatters against the clammy, dripping stone just above him. Robert lets go a gasp and scrambles to his feet. His eyes dart this way and that, searching for escape. Yet it appears that he is trapped within the murky, choking depths of the pit.

"What do you want of me?" Robert is desperate now. "Why are you trying to kill me?"

The dark, hooded figure laughs. "I could ask the same of you, my boy." Another brilliant white arrow erupts from the dark figure's fingertip. Robert moves out of the way just in time to avoid the incandescent bolt. "You seek my death...I am merely returning the favor..."

"I didn't mean to--it was an accident!" On a whim, Robert extends his right hand. A black shaft shoots forth, flying towards the dark figure. However, the inky projectile disintegrates before it can reach the dark figure who merely laughs in wicked amusement.

"You really think you can destroy me." A flash of white teeth stands out in the eerie dark of the pit. "Yet in so doing, you will destroy yourself." The air before the dark figure begins to shimmer, coalescing into a flaring, indefinable brightness. Intense heat emanates forth, making the stifling, stagnant air of the pit even more suffocating. It is all Robert can to do to keep breathing. Sweat slicks his body, drenching his clothing and stinging his eyes.

"What do you want of me?" gasps Robert even as he slowly collapses to the hard cobbles below...

[Kahrey]

[Genre: fantasy]

...crushing his hand in a sickening crack. He yells out in pain, but has no time to think about his hand, for he has to roll out of the way of another flaming white shaft. It clings upong the stone and iron floor as it hits.

The dark figure allows him time to stand and says, "You can never stand up to me, you weak and feeble creature."

Robert is still puzzled, but the words of the man - or whatever it was - angers but a little. He narrows his eyes, and flicks his fingertips. Once. Twice. The black shafts explode around the figure, never reaching him. Frig...he has some type of shield.

The figure laughs harshly as he shoots forth several of the white arrows. Robert jumps this way and that, but one make its way to his thigh. He stumbles, but manages to stand.

"You can never be greater than I. Let's just end this now. It would be so much easier."

Robert slung his hand towrads the man in rage, a ball of black fire spitting forth from it. It penetrated the shield, and caught the man in the chest. In fright, Robert continues to throw bound black flames at the figure, who eventually, after several blasts, staggers backward.

Robert stops and steps further away, backing into the sweating walls. the figure has lost it's incandescent light and his shield has been ripped down. The figure hovers above the floor, the black fire balls forming a knot at his chest. The knot grows and becomes larger. And larger. And larger. It soon overtakes his body.

All is silent and frozen for a moment. Suddenly, there is a hot blast of fire which streams forth from the black-knotted body. Robert is thrown against the wall and he squeezes his eyes shut. He hears a loud explosion, which leaves his ears ringing. After a moment, everything is silent.

He opens his eyes and turns around slowly. The figure is gone. His own hair is singed, along with his beard and clothes. He steps towards thre place where the figure last was and stares down.

Without notice...

[Aunflin]

Genre: Excerpt from an Epic Poem "Into the Depths of Hell"

...he was sucked into the great dark below,
His mind awhirl with the implications of where
He went. "Oh, God! Why do I descend into this
Gaping maw, this vile maelstrom of ill intention?"
But no reply did come: only silence, terrible and
Forbidding. And fear did swell in Robert's heart,
As he did enter fully into the very circle of Hell
Where Fallen Angels and the Souls of the Lost do
Dwell in endless torment and timeless pain, their
Bodies held bound by ethereal chains and the hot
Clasping hands of Satan's desire. "Please, God, no!"
Cried Robert again. Yet no matter how he struggled,
No matter how he cried in desperate hope, still
Did he descend into the writhing depths of black
Despair. And visions of terrible agonies induced
By evil fiends plying the impliments of the torturer's
Trade, their gaunt, toothy faces spread wide with
Glee as they took full price for sins and lies, and
Other failings not evident in life. Yet past all these
Scenes of mauling and mangling, evisceration
And more did Robert go, his thoughts awhirl with
Impossible dread, for in the distance did he espy
A great swirling cauldron shimmering black, yellow,
And red, emanations of pulsating heat swirling
Forth, searing his soul to its very core. And a great
Monstrous figure stood at Chaos's source, a terrible
Winged Dragon with eyes of glittering flame. "What
Is this horror I do see?" asked Robert, his voice lost
In the midst of hellish intensity, sounding weak and
Fragile as a newborn babe. Yet no reply did come as
Robert drew ever nigh the source of all evil setting
At the center of Time. "Welcome to my demesne," his
Wicked jaws open wide, his terrible fangs aligned and
Glittering as the swords of an endless host. Terror beat
In Robert's heart upon hearing this dread voice, which
Echoed like thunder upon the distance, almost flashing
With the jagged brightness of lightning driven upon
The winds of elemental fury. And petrified now beyond
Aught he had ever known, Robert drew nigh the Great
Dragon....

[felonius]

GENRE: Gothic

…and smote his fist upon the inn’s hulking door of oak and iron with a preternatural strength bourne of terror and near-madness.

“Awake!â€

[Aunflin]

genre...

...horror. "How can it be that fell Darb once more roams the night, seeking out blood and death?" The oldster's words quaivered forth from trembling lips. "And von Palmer, I thought he had met his doom that evil night forty years past when the Warrior-poet Egil did lead a daring raid upon his dark bastion."

"Methinks that is not the case, Innkeeper," replied Robert, his visage yet pale and drawn. Never would he forget the ghastly horror slinking through the dark of winternight, a terrible silhouette in the soft light of the full moon. "For I beheld the Horror with my own two eyes."

"But it cannot be, for Egil and his men did pull down the walls of von Palmer's castle stone by stone ere setting alight all that would burn, choking the midnight air with acrid smoke. I recall it well, Robert." The oldster's eyes grew distant for a moment. "For I was there with brave Egil when it all transpired, a young warrior only a few years younger than he..." Tobe's words trailed off into silence. His rheumy eyes seemed to mist for a moment in sorrowful recollection. "I..."

A horrifying howl broke through the night. "We best be inside," said Robert, hurriedly pushing Tobe inside, slamming the door closed and latching it tight.

"What goes on?" called a voice, echoed by others huddled about the Inn's warm hearth. "That eerie call had the sound of evil in it," said Old Nan, the Innkeeper's sturdy wife.

"Robert says he saw Darb haunting the night." Gasps and curses followed this statement. "And I for one believe him." Tobe limped to a stool against the main bar and gingerly took a seat, his stick-like frame shaking with barely restrained fear.

"But how can that be?" asked someone else, an old grey bearded man setting with his back to the wall, a tankard of mead clutched in his gnarled grasp. "Von Palmer is dead--and his abominations, too..."

But before any could answer, something heavy crashed into the front door...

[Kahrey]

[Genre: Prophecy]

...of the Inn. They turn around quickly, to see something less than expected. A very small man in a tattered tunic. He immediately begins to speak aloud, saying,

" '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...' "

They all stand still for a moment, then the figure fades away into the darkness of the night. They stand in silence...