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Everyone is welcome to join in, doing as many or as few of the exercises as they'd like -- however, I will be keeping score and declaring a winner for each month, for those who are feeling competitive! ;)

This thread will include exercises for Monday 9/1 to Friday 9/5

Rules:

Don't reply to people's exercise posts, because they may want to edit. If you have feedback, post it in the latest feedback thread.

Scoring is NOT based on any kind of judgment on my part. If you do an exercise, you get ten points. If you do the bonus, you get another five points. I'll award partial credit where it makes sense. Scores reset at the end of every month. 

Scoring:

@NightBirdBlue - 30
@Swiftstryker - 40
@the_quiller - 45
@ItAintPretty - 15
@Romulus - 55
@Kiel_Farren - 50
@Malkalack - 10
@Morgan_R - 10
@betaband - 0
@ISentinelPenguinI - 0
@TaraGil - 15
@31TeV - 0
@Briar_Rose - 0
@Danaos - 0
@LostConnection - 0
@jamescoker1226 - 0
@Cynical - 0
@TacocaT - 0
@coins - 0
@Virtualide - 0
@Fireplay - 0
@nmelssx - 0

If you would like to be removed from this list, please PM me. If you want to be added, just do an exercise!

DO NOT REPLY TO THIS POST, PLEASE AND THANK YOU.

Monday, September 1, 2014:

Write five first sentences. Use at least three of the following genres: Fantasy, Science Fiction, Mystery, Horror, Romance.

Bonus: Expand one of your sentences into a scene.

1. Brightmore was a peaceful little burrow, it lay a bit off the main road and most of its few dozen inhabitants already reached a respectable age, that is, until a bloodcurdling screamed pierced the sultry August night.

2. John sighed with relief as his shuttle finally docked at Proxima 1, though he often made the long trip from Sol to Proxima Centaury, he just couldn't get used to the feeling of traveling near the speed of light.

3. "Yup, you can open your eyes now, happy anniversary honey!"

4. *Tick* *Tock* *Tick* *Tock*, the old grandfather's clock continued to torment poor old Richard.

5. People often think that dragons are nothing more than the stuff of legend, bedtime stories to help hyperactive children drift off to sleep.

Bonus:

Brightmore was a peaceful little burrow, it lay a bit off the main road and most of its few dozen inhabitants already reached a respectable age, that is, until a bloodcurdling screamed pierced the sultry August night. Edwin Bailey, the local police officer who drew the wrong straw and had patrol duty that night, was just driving his car down the abandoned Church Road when he heard it. Though he had been softly nodding behind the wheel of his car, he immediately sprang into action, turned on the sirens and, while trying not to slip on the cobblestones, drove as fast as he could towards the origin of the sound.

He found it just as he passed Mrs. Attaway's flower shop down in Baker Street. There, illuminated by the headlights of his car, he saw the mangled body of what looked like a teenage girl. Though a slight shiver went up his spine and he could feel his stomach turning inside of him, Edwin still took his flashlight and went to inspect the corpse. Up close it looked even more horrifying. If it wasn't for the rope that tied the poor girl's wrists together, Edwin could have sworn she was savaged by some brutish beast. Though he couldn't touch the body due to a possible contamination of the evidence, he could see a gaping hole where the girls chest should be. In the slowly spreading puddle of blood, he could also discern what he thought were her entrails, at least what was left of them. The most horrid, though, were the eyes. In the harsh light of the police car's headlights, her eyes seemed almost... alive, screaming with horror and despair.

Feeling his dinner coming up his throat, Edwin dashed back towards the safety of his car, sat down in the driver's seat with a sigh, and called the murder in.

*Timeout*

What do you mean by first sentences?

Edit:  Nevermind.

I gazed into her eyes, and knew it was love.

The sharp sound of boots cracking, followed by the metallic hum of charging beam-weapons alerted me. 

"A dragon, eh? Dangerous words." 

The villagers lived quiet lives, accustomed to fending off lions and wolves.... nobody could prepare them for this. 

The sound of flesh tearing, punctuated by a woman's screams, echoed through the night. 

1: He crawled to the engine room as the blood trailed behind him, his heart pounding as he realized, 'if I don't reach the core in time, we're all going to die.'

2: Ethan felt her kiss the back of his neck and put her arms around his waist just like she always had--he leaned into the embrace for a moment before he remembered, 'she died three months ago.'

3: Anna's nose wrinkled up as the overpowering smell of rotting flesh grew even stronger when they opened the trunk--whoever had done this apparently hadn't account for the stench.

4: Lilith knew exactly three things right now: one, when her father had warned her of the disposition of trolls, he had completely understated it--two, when she had given her sword to Erin, it had been idiocy, and three, it was really hard to remember how to cast a spell with the shock and agony of losing an arm.  

5: It was a simple picture: a young, single father and his twin girls--just being a family, talking,  laughing, strolling and holding hands--but she felt her heart suddenly pull towards them, wanting nothing more than to fill the empty space another woman had left behind. 

Bonus: Not sure which sentence to use, I'll think it over.

1. It was 11:59 on New Year's Eve when she realized she'd fallen out of love.
2. In all her sixteen years, she had never been outside the castle.
3. It is not a sound that wakes you, but an absence of sound.
4. You don't remember dying, but then, you never do.
5. I never should have taken the job.

 

1. I don't deny that I had fallen for a pointy eared brat once, but really, I'm a pedo even though I'm her age?

2.  It started with Charybdis.  Dad, who had been missing for 50 years, had gifted me the curious little creature...for what?

3. When the short man, only 3 feet in stature, settled eyes upon the craft on which I rode, he had taken me for a god; he promptly attempted to shoot me down within a minute.  FACKING  Dwarves.

4. When they broadcasted the screams from the International Space Station...I fucking heard them lose their voices as the windows opened.

5. Funnily enough, he was like a biblical hypocrite; he'd let no one get near her, but he couldn't approach her himself.

~~~

"I don't deny that I had fallen for a pointy eared brat once, but really, I'm a pedo even though I'm her age?"

"Well, even if she is 22, and you're 21, she is still in the child stage of development for elves.  That does make you a pedophile, Tolran."

"...well...how long must I wait?"

"Um...I think they reach adolescence when they're 60."

"..."

"Tolran," I sighed, "this isn't going to work.  You know they're at the edge of overpopulation, the elves.  Even if I'm supposed to be the Sage, I can't just tip the balances to however people want me to."

"Can't you just turn me into a Ter'al?"

Oh boy, this hero was desparate.  He had a point, but...

"You do realized Ter'al live double the Als' lifespan, right?"

"But the time I've worked with them when we were amassing an army against the Ea- I know they have roughly the same time-slots for growth as the Als'.  It can work.  Please, Sage."

"The Umeri will lose their hero, and you know Als' don't take shit from anyone else."

"Then summon a new one."

"If I find you dying, I swear, I'll personally bring HIM to your family."

"No you won't."

"Yes, I will.  Just.  Don't.  Die."

1) The knife was coated with her blood, and it had my innocent fingerprints all over it.

2) No one wants to be the first one to descend to the planet.

3) The dragon's fire ate through the flesh of those that had refused to flee the village.

4) I may have never knew how she was able to kill all those people, but I knew that I would be her next victim.

5) Reality was an illusion that I found myself rejecting more and more often.

Bonus:

Reality was an illusion that I found myself rejecting more and more often. It wasn't real like everyone else thought it was. It was something to keep us absorbed in fictional dramas, while the real world was destroyed around us. It was a chemical or  technological thing that trapped us in this dream world.

I used to believe the lies till The Incident. I was one of the few that saw the truth that 'rainy day.' I saw the fractured sky. I saw the sterile walls. I saw the alien figures watching me from behind the glass-like material. That was the moment I found out that our reality was just some being's way of keeping the human race neutralized. We were all in a sleeping state with wires and tubes attached to our bodies. Chemicals pumped into us to do whatever the aliens wanted them to do.

I wanted to spread this message to everyone. I wanted to somehow make everyone become aware. I thought maybe enough awareness of the real situation would cause the illusion to break. I wanted freedom from this prison of thought, of perception.

However, most people thought the obsessions with gay marriage, abortion, and gun control are all true. They thought the world they lived their lives in was real. They thought that  they were eating hamburgers, rice, hummus, and salmon. They thought they were swimming, dancing, and singing.They thought that America, Canada, China, and various other countries really existed.

I figured that those concepts were made up too. I couldn't believe that anything we thought was real was actually real.I couldn't take the idea of the American Revolution as part of history. I couldn't believe Picasso ever existed. I couldn't believe that we had computers and televisions. I couldn't believe anything that was offered as part of this illusion.

 Part of me wondered if we were even humans at all.
 

1. The Gem of the Ancients was sought after by legions, multitudes who perished from simple greed, and all it took was the courage of one young, and rather delicate, sylph.
2. The siege of Outpost WISE 0855–0714 raged, as it had for days, while the Temerarious boldly soared into the heart of the mayhem.
3. Where had Janice gone, but more importantly -- did she ever even exist?
4. In all my travels I had never experienced such a foreboding, the evil that inhabited this place permeated the very air itself.
5. In early October, while the trees were setting the hillsides afire, we were entwined in our own little inferno.

In all my travels I had never experienced such a foreboding, the evil that inhabited this place permeated the very air itself.  From the dangling shutters to the overgrown and unattended grounds.  Rumors persist among the local populace that something evil resides on the premises, something ancient and deadly.

I couldn't resist the opportunity to experience it myself.

While unloading my gear from the Explorer, I could've sworn I was being watched.  I'm not usually one to be on edge, and with all that I'd uncovered around the country, all the ruses and deceptions, I was a bit arrogant.  From somewhere beyond those vacant windows, their soul-piercing glare, an evil lay dormant.

Shaking myself back to reality, and quelling my nerves, I grabbed the cases and bags, I marched through the door and into its' wanton and vile embrace.

 

1. I breathed and the world breathed with me as I reached into the heart of the world and made it mine. (Fantasy)

2. The very last shuttle revved up its engines, zooming away from our dying planet like a shooting star, and we could only watch in silence as it left us behind. (Science Fiction)

3. In all fifteen years of his career, Detective William Knox searched for a perfect murder and never encountered a single one, so the only way to find one is to make one himself. (Mystery)

4. You wake the the feeling of warm water dripping onto your face and open your eyes to the sight of a dead man crucified to your ceiling. (Horror)

5. There are five precious, precious minutes just before the sun fully rises when her feathers recede and she can run into his arms, but as soon as the sun's rays touch the earth, his skin becomes fur under her fingertips and his voice once again becomes unintelligible growls. (Romance)

Bonus

In all fifteen years of his career, Detective William Knox searched for a perfect murder and never encountered a single one, so the only way to find one is to make one himself. It couldn't be just any random homeless person either - the murder had to be plastered all over the news and make the headlines of every major newspaper. It had to be high profile enough that very best investigators in the world would to be summoned to solve it, because he could only call it a perfect murder if it passed the highest level of scrutiny.

Knox searched through every celebrity and political figure with a fine toothed comb before he finally settled on a victim. From then on, it was weeks upon weeks of careful observation, familiarizing himself with the victim's schedule, habits, acquaintances, and personality. Every detail was recorded in Knox's trap-like memory. Countless plans were formulated and subsequently discarded for lack of ingenuity. Opportunity was key and Knox was patient.

It took months before everything was in place. The perfect victim. The perfect opportunity. The perfect method. The perfect murder. All that was left was to secure the perfect criminal.

Too often, the perfect crime was ruined by the human element - in fifteen years, Knox was an expert in reading guilt on a suspect's face. He knew that, in order to eliminate the possibility of slipping up at the last moment, the perfect criminal needed one critical defense to prevent even the most talented investigator from extracting their knowledge of their own guilt.

You can't tell a secret that you don't know. The perfect criminal doesn't even know they've committed a crime.

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Have some tropes!

Drunken Master - You know that feeling you get when you get drunk? Like you can take on the whole world? In fiction, this is precisely what happens next.

Cat Scare - A Cat Scare is a strong buildup of high tension, followed by a fright from something harmless (say, a startled cat) to release that tension with.

Spaceship Girl - A walking, talking female avatar of a Sapient Ship

But for Me, it was Tuesday - A critical event that started the protagonist on their journey was an action by another, an action they may have long since forgotten, most likely never giving it a second thought.

Pretext for War -The leaders of Viridia and Tyria want to go to war. Not for a silly reason, but due to anything from good old fashioned jingoism, greed, political/economic/religious differences, or a simple historical grudge. However, they can't just out and out declare war, that would be uncivilized!

You know the drill -- use one of these random tropes in a scene. Also, since they don't strike me as being very compatible, you can get the bonus this time just by including any two of the tropes.

@Danaos @NightBirdBlue @betaband @31TeV @Briar_Rose @ISentinelPenguinI @TaraGil @the_quiller @jamescoker1226 @LostConnection @Kiel_Farren @Cynical @ItAintPretty @Swiftstryker @TacocaT @Romulus @coins @Malkalack @Virtualide @Morgan_R @Fireplay @nmelssx

Richard always had a tendency towards melancholy. Even when he was little he would dream of the past. Not the distant past, mind you, with knights and princesses or great wars and generals, no, his own past. Even at that very young age he already used the phrase 'it used to be better in the past'. These tendencies, however, were getting worse and worse lately, up to the point of depression. He talked about them, or course. He saw a shrink two, no three times a week, and they were starting to become a staple topic at the diner table at home. Both his wife and his shrink agreed that these depressions were probably a symptom of severe stress, Richard had just become the Minister of Foreign Affairs about a month ago. However, to Richard they somehow felt more strange, more ominous even, than his regular melancholy.

This night, Richard was tossing and turning in his bed. When the blood-red letters of his alarm clock showed that it was already 4:30 AM, he sighed and got out of bed as quietly as possible, as to not wake up his wife. Tonight was another sleepless night for him. Well, not completely sleepless, he supposed, he got around two hours sleep. He had this weird dream, more like a memory actually, of him and his schoolmates fighting in the yard. He actually remembered that afternoon. It was near the end of the school year and the summer's heat had just arrived and Richard's class got the afternoon off to play games in the school yard. It was looking like it was going to be a fun afternoon, until some kids started to bully others.

Maybe it would be best if I gave you some context first. When Richard was young, the nation of Alberia experienced one of its heaviest economic depressions in its history. As millions of people lost their jobs, the general mood of Alberia's population turned sour. Like in most times of depression, scapegoats are sought and there was a man who provided the angry population with them: Alexander Rodesto, a mean-spirited populist who still believed in the segregation of races and the promise of a white utopia. He used the anger of the people to further his own political goals and declared that all foreigners in the fair nation of Alberia were to blame for its misfortunes. Of course Alberia's government wanted to have nothing to do with either Alexander or his politics, but the people did. People took to the streets on a massive scale (researchers afterwards estimated the number of sympathizers of Alexander at somewhere between 25 to 40 percent of the population) and demanded that all supposed foreigners would be banned from the country. Alexander had a special hatred against the Jehavish populations, as they were historically speaking the scapegoats of the Alberian society.

Richard of course, young as he was back on that sunny summer's day, didn't know anything about politics, nor was much aware of the tension in the country. He was raised by his parents to treat everyone fairly, no matter their backgrounds. Other children, on the other hand, weren't. And so it came to pass that on that pleasant summer's day Richard was fighting against his classmates in the schoolyard, to prevent some other classmates, of foreign descent, to be beaten up. He lost, of course, Richard never was much of a fighter, and those poor kids and their parents eventually emigrated, like many people did back then.

But then many years past, the economy started booming again, Alexander Rodesto became mostly forgotten and Richard grew up. Richard actually let out a quiet chuckle, while he was splashing water in his face to try and freshen up his face. Even in his usual melancholy, he never once thought about that far-away day ever again. He wondered for a bit why he suddenly would remember such an event from so long ago, but he eventually guessed that it was probably because tensions in the world lately were getting higher. Though Alberia was spared, another major economic depression had struck neighboring nations, and demagogues and extremists were getting public support once more. Richard's desk was flooded lately with memo's about militarization of neighboring armies, etc. To the average civilian this would seem threatening, but Richard was used to it. The threat of violence was often used by some desperate nations to try and demand some trinket supplies. Richard usually advised to give them some trinkets, as it is often easier to give candy to a child that throws a tantrum than to punish and try to re-educate it. And besides, he didn't want other nation's peoples to starve because of some ideological disagreement.

As Richard made his way into the kitchen he saw that it had become 5:15 AM while he was pondering about his dreams. As he still had more than an hour to kill before he was expected at work, he poured himself a cup of coffee (which he actually shouldn't, he was trying to live healthier) and turned on the tv. As was to be expected, nothing worth watching was on on tv, but at least it gave him some diversion from his thoughts so he could sip his coffee in peace.

However, before he even finished his coffee, the phone rang. Slightly cursing, Richard rushed towards the phone, as to pick it up before the ringing woke up his wife. As Richard picked up the phone the sleepless nights of the past few days and the constant stress of the past month finally took their toll. "What in the bloody hell are you thinking calling me at this hour of the day? Were you raised without manners or anything? And who is this anyway?"

"Good morning to you too, Richard, and please save your anger until I am done with my talk."

Richard immediately recognized the voice as that of Jonathan Rosby, the newly elected president of Alberia.

"I'm afraid that I have to call you in to the office immediately. I have called for an emergency meeting with all cabinet members. You, as the Foreign Affairs Minister, are especially needed right now."

"What..."

"I have asked the news networks to wait half an hour before broadcasting this, so that we can deliberate on the suitable course of action to prevent to spreading of fear amongst the population, but at 5 o'clock AM today, the Four-Valley Dam complex was the target of a terrorist attack. I'll try to keep it short. Three of the dams have been destroyed and the fourth is nearly collapsing. Flood waters are threatening the countryside and power is out in a large area. The attack was claimed by the Jehavish Retributionists,a Jehava terrorist group that has ties to the Jehavish government and lobbies for revenge against those that mistreated all Jehava's in the past. I cannot know for sure at this moment, but I have a feeling that a war is brewing."

Richard could not find any words to say.

"Richard, are you still there? Is there anything wrong?"

"No... No sir, but I believe I can use a drink..."

(Bonus: Includes every trope. I even repeated two of them! xD I ... make no promise of great creativity or quality, though.)

Shinji had never seen Commander Teiger like this before. The man was every bit the well-trained killing machine that he and the other former cadets of unit 0392 had come to know and respect back in their days at the academy. In fact, he was fiercer, wilder, crazier--the body count he was racking up of their foes was immense. Shinji had never seen so much Aranthian blood before.

It was the glaze in Teiger's eyes and the redness of his cheeks was unfamiliar. "He's drunk..." the young captain muttered to himself. It came as no surprise, though, because Shinji already knew. He'd been there and heard the report as it came over the communicator. "Commander Teiger, transport ship 0021 took two shots to the right hull, a third to the fuel tank, and was obliterated. There were no survivors."

Shinji swore under his breath as Teiger's knees buckled. "Maya ... Lilith..." The names of his wife and twelve year old daughter. They had been evacuating the central base during the battle. Several ships escaped unharmed, but two of the civilian transports had been caught in the cross-fire and were destroyed.

It had been one month since then. They were launching an all-out assault on one of the main military bases of the Aranthian empire, the jungle dwarf planet that they'd colonized closest to Terra, known now as Asth-Ulnir. It was from this very base that they had launched those ships. In a drunken rage, the commander had recklessly charged the horde of soldiers and was mowing them down into a steady river of purple.

At first, it seemed like an advantage to be proceeded by a commander who cared only for the destruction of his enemies. A man is truly never more dangerous when he has nothing left to lose--dangerous to his enemies, and to himself. The first five waves of soldiers had been downed with relative ease and the rest of their own troops were finally advancing ...

... Save for some corpses, a drunken and mortally wounded old soldier, and a young captain. When Teiger slipped behind ranks and collapses, Shinji rushed to break his fall. He could only lower the man's larger body to the ground. He dragged him away from the battle, deep into the forest. "Commander, we need to get you back to the ship, to a medic. These wounds--"

"I ain't going back to doctor Katsuga just to give him the satisfaction of pronouncing me dead. Leave me, kid, and go kill a few more for this old dog. My legs aren't workin', I'm just dead weight to you boys now."   

"I can't do that, sir." When had his voice started to tremble? Why did his eyes start to sting? Shinji couldn't believe it, he was actually getting choked up. He had thought that his years at the academy had beat that sort of sentimentality out of him, that he couldn't cry on the battle field anymore.

Teiger started to laugh at him. "What in the blazes are you so worked up over, boy? I'm just another space mutt in ... we die every day." He grimaced as he tried to shift his body-weight and ended up opening his wounds further.

"Commander, you're--you're the reason I joined the elite brigade, sir. You're the reason I became a captain! I wouldn't even be alive without you!"

"The hell are you talkin' 'bout?" Teiger's glassy eyes didn't look any clearer.

Shinji recounted his tale, that he was one of the children that Aranthian pirates and slavers had made into orphans before kidnapping them from the Victoria, a colony ship. He had been so afraid, seeing his parents slain in front of his eyes, knowing death could be just a moment away--and then suddenly, a much younger, but steely-eyed Teiger burst in, taking down the goons that were guarding them. He armed the oldest of the children.

When Shinji had still been too scared to move, Teiger pulled him to his feet, looked him straight in the eye, and told him that if he cared about his parents' wishes at all, he would do everything possible to get out of this alive. That they had died in order to protect him and if he didn't make it, their deaths would be in vain. The next part still rang in Shinji's ears to this day: "What... can I do?" Shinji's voice trembled. "I'm too small, if I try to fight, then--"  "Yeah, you're right. Fighting back means risking defeat, but doing nothing guarantees it! From now on, kid, you fight to live, to make the most of what they gave you and honor their memory!"

"I've never forgotten those words, sir." Shinji finished softly.

Teiger snorted. So he was one of them. "... Do you know how many times I've given that damn speech? I could recite it in my sleep." Shinji blinked in confusion. "I hate to break it to you, runt, but I collected so many of you poor little bastards and dumped 'em into the academy on a weekly basis back then, I don't have a damn clue which one you might've been. You think I'm some hero, or maybe even a father figure for saving your sorry ass, but I ain't. All I really did is recruit some fresh meat for the front lines. The cheap shit speech I gave you was just to keep you alive long enough so we could use you. That's all we are, in the end, for this war. Tools for some goddamn bureaucrat to throw at an enemy until they surrender."

Shinji could feel himself getting angry. "But we protect humanity! Our enemy would've wiped us all out by now. We fight for survival, for the alliance, for the good of all--"

"Who do you think started this war?!" Teiger snapped back. "Those high-and-mighty alliance leader bastards wanted to take the moons of Thera, to mine out the resources there. It was GREED! Those moons were sacred to their people. We invaded their land, then, at the first hint of resistance, we declared them enemies and terrorists."

"No..." Shinji tried to back away. So the friends that he had lost, the innocent civilians, the thousands of soldiers--all of that blood shed, believing they were fighting for a good cause, when they were the villains all along...?

As Teiger's blood loss rendered him unconscious, Shinji heard rustling in the bushes. The rustling quickly grew louder and louder, the movement spread throughout the foliage. He was being surrounded, soon the ambush would overwhelm him. He'd be eaten alive by one of the dozens of wild beasts that resided here. He pulled out his guns as the first of the predators sprang into sight and--"Good morning, captain!" "AHH!"

Shinji shot up out of bed in a cold sweat. It had been a week since the battle. He was back on his own ship and they would be landing on his home planet soon. He had been awoken by the ship's A.I., "A.n.n.i.e" -- or Astro-Navigations Network Intelligence Entity.

Shinji firmly believed that whoever had designed her was a pervert, considering her "default" appearance had been far more revealing than the regular crew member uniform her projection now sported--much to the disappointment of multiple crew members. When he had insisted on the switch, on the grounds that she was distracting the flight crew, she had also offered to do alterations to her figure. Shinji felt somewhat uncomfortable with asking someone--even the manifested artificial intelligence of his own ship--to change its "body," especially when she added phrases like "what form would most please you?" and such.

"Are you okay, Captain?" Her voice drew him back out of his thoughts.

"I'm fine, Annie." He scrubbed at his eyes with his palms. "Just ... a bad dream."

"You've had those with increasing frequency lately, Captain, and your vital signs--particularly your increased pulse and breathing patterns--suggest that you are not entirely as you would say 'Fine.' Would you like to speak to Dr. Elias?"

Shinji scowled. "I don't need a shrink, Annie. Lots of soldiers have nightmares after battle, it's hardly uncommon, especially because bad dreams can occur without any reasonable kind of  provocation."

"If you say so, Captain. By the way, sir, I noticed some kind of disturbance in the storage hold. At first, I thought it might have been that dreadful ... pet of Alaria's," Annie wrinkled her nose. She was not overly fond of the large, fuzzy feline that one of the crew members insisted on keeping as a battle partner, "but I have since had more time to monitor the creature and it does not appear to be familiar..."

"Wait. Are you saying we have an alien beast in one of our storage rooms and you didn't bother sharing this information until JUST NOW?" Shinji tugged on his uniform and grabbed his guns, running toward the supply bay.

"Well, Captain," Annie floated along, matching his speed with an enviable since of grace, "you seemed very distressed and I assumed I could deal with the issue myself, but I thought you might want to see what it is first before I toss it out an airlock or use one of my security lasers."   

Shinji punched in the code to access the storage room. He switched on his communicator, prepared to call in his crew for back-up as he stalked through the piles of supplies cautiously. It was quiet, very quiet, but suddenly he heard the padding of footsteps. He ran in their direction, guns drawn, and he was suddenly met with the sight of claws, fangs, fur, and--a large purple ribbon. "What the f--"

"Eep!" The cat girl shrieked and scurried away from him, climbing up a shelf and curling up in a corner. "Don't shoot, please! I was just really hungry, I'm sorry!"

"So, Captain, shall I throw it out?"

---

Meanwhile, a transmission was sent out across space that a princess from the planet Tyron had gone missing within the confines of human territory and that if humanity did not return Princess Celeste to their home world within the next twelve hours, it would be deemed a kidnapping ... and an act of war.

Oh gOd...I shuddn'ta takin tha...drink.  But...I fil ALIVE...mebbe...

Sage, for the lack of a name, stumbled drunkenly in the back alleys of the quiet town of Dentona.  Originally a fort built to ward off raiders, the Great War took place elsewhere, so the fort was never really used.  The townspeople would thank the Sage, if not for his discreetness that rivaled his heroics.

See, the sage...oh look at him go.  Is he to vomit?  Is he gonna defecate?  He's on his knees now...

...no, he swallowed it all back in.  That's just nasty.

Anyhow, after he secretly signed a pact with the enemy's leader, Riba Gorchov, there was a quick peace treaty to be found.  Of course, the original dispute, a holy war, was never really solved, and though Gorchov's nation had every reason to attack, it was by a narrow margin that a full-scale invasion was ever started.

[To be edited.]

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Worldbuilding! How is crime handled in your (pre-existing or newly invented) world? Who deals with criminals, and how?

Bonus: Write a scene from the perspective of a criminal.

@Danaos @NightBirdBlue @betaband @31TeV @Briar_Rose @ISentinelPenguinI @TaraGil @the_quiller @jamescoker1226 @LostConnection @Kiel_Farren @Cynical @ItAintPretty @Swiftstryker @TacocaT @Romulus @coins @Malkalack @Virtualide @Morgan_R @Fireplay @nmelssx

It is said that the gods made man for their entertainment. They made it flawed, gave it different tongues and learned it the concepts of hierarchy and race. Afterwards they retreated to their palace in the heavens, to watch their creations slowly burn their world. Nowhere in the world is this more true than in Fyre, the gray city besides the sea. Here, there is no notion of things like 'justice' or 'order'. The only things that count are power and wealth, those that have the guts to grab them thrive in the city, those that don't struggle to survive, and die.

Fyre isn't part of any nation, but it isn't a city state either, it just... is. It was founded by thieves and beggars and grew large under the command of the syndicates that each rule their own quarters. There is no such thing as a central government, nor has anyone ever have the power to form one. Fyre is, and always will be, the ultimate haven for those outside of the law.

In the world of Bastion (from Becoming Legend):

For individual crimes, the most prominent people in the local community will meet to decide how the transgressor will be punished. In larger cities, the magistrate and city guard enforce the Emperor's laws. Every judicial decision, however, can be overturned by a mage of Tier V rank or higher. Mages answer only to higher ranked mages, with the chain of command ultimately ending at the Emperor himself. For the most serious crimes - dabbling in magical taboos, committing genocide, et cetera - the Council of Praetors will decide the punishment and carry it out in person. Since such serious crimes inevitably result in the death sentence, the transgressor will essentially be publicly executed by a Praetor.

Bonus:

"Surrender, and the Emperor shall forgive you for your blasphemy," the First Praetor intones, his low voice echoing hollowly through the cold antechamber.

The chains are heavy, as if the entire weight of the world is pressing you to the ground. You can barely breathe as the spellbound iron constricts around your wrists, your ankles, and your throat. It's not the weight of the metal - it's the weight of their terrifying power, the force of all six Praetors pinning you down with their force of will.

You fall to one knee as your leg buckles under you. Still, you refuse to look away from the First Praetor's gaze. Eyes burning hellfire green, you ask softly, "Surrender?"

Six Praetors are pouring their mana into the spell that binds you. Any lesser mage would have been crushed to dust.

But you are no lesser mage. You are the heir. The Nine-Fold Throne acknowledged you, and no one standing here yet realizes what that means. No one here knows just how much power is required to inherit the Emperor's crown.

With the force of six Praetors' mana weighing down on yours, you finally dip into the deep well of power sleeping inside you. Their will is heavy, like a raging waterfall that descends a thousand feet to smash you into the ground. But your will is greater. Yours is a vast ocean of darkness. Calm. Silent. And now, stirring into storm. Despite their binding spell, you stand, back straight and unbowed, and you hear sharp breaths of surprise echo through the room.

"Surrender," you continue quietly, "is something the victor demands from the defeated."

A fierce twist of your will, and the binding chains shatter like brittle glass. They fall away. You take a step forward, summoning your mana, and it pours forth like an endless spring that envelops you in a deadly emerald hue.

"I am not defeated," you say, taking another step closer.

The Praetors are realizing their folly, at last. Shouts of alarm ring through the hall as incredible shield spells and intense attack spells snap into existence. The antechamber is flooded with light and the mana in the air is so thick that you can taste it and feel it hum against your skin. Spells powerful enough to wipe entire cities off the map, wielded by six men and women powerful enough to do so on a whim, are concentrated in this one single room.

And they are afraid. You can't see it on their faces, but mana cannot lie, and their mana is thick with fear.

Eyes blazing, you pronounce your judgment.

"And I, as Emperor, do not forgive."

In Twiight Forest, a large country to the south of Galien and Aullien, the legal system is rather final. Crimes of intentional murder, harming an innocent with intent, rape, thievery of supplies needed to survive, and abandoning the innocent and/or weak are all punishable by exile. This exile is quite dangerous in the Twilight Forest. The country is home to a race known as Soul Thieves. Soul Thieves feed off the living energy of all other creatures. Being attacked by one leaves a person anywhere from delirious and weak to being in a coma-like state. Magical beings like shapeshifters, mages, and elves find this even more unpleasent than the non-magical being. Their magical energy feels like it is being ripped from them. 

Lesser crimes are treated with imprisonment or a period of servitude. Servitude is often used to pay off damages. Imprisonment is used for all other crimes.

 

Bonus

Daniel stared at the pitch blackness around him. Fear, which had been growing ever since he was sentenced to exile, gnawed at him. He wished that damn shapeshifter bitch, Twilight, had believed that the girl he supposedly "raped" had actually agree to have sex with him. It wasn't fair that he had to try to survive leaving Twilight Forest alone during nightfall. It wasn't fair that he swore he could already hear the noises that meant his life would end. It wasn't fair that he would more likely than not die.

"Fucking lying whore," he muttered as he picked up his pace. He doubted he was still even going in the right direction, but standing still would have meant accepting his fate. The dark haired human mage was not ready to do that. He soon began to run, almost falling on his face multiple times.

He finally did fall. A branch or root tripped him and sent him sprawling. He let out a cry of pain as he landed on his right ankle. Pain flooded him. He realized then how completely screwed he was, when a growling noise came from the darkness to his right.

The huge, pale figure of a Soul Thief appeared from the darkness. It seemed to glow. Daniel was completely paralyzed for a moment. That broke when the beast opened its mouth to reveal four rows of sharp, glowing green teeth.

Casting a quick fire spell, the mage tried to get to his feet. Pain clouded his vision. He almost passed out, and ended up on the ground again. His ankle would not support his weight.

The beast walked closer. Its spidery four legs seeming to move through the air weightlessly. The creature made no sound by its movements. Its breathing was soft and almost inaudible. It had stopped growling.

David stared at the Soul Thief. The beast looked at him with its black eyes. Then in a flash of movement it began to devour his life force. 

The mage screamed and writhed on the ground, but it was about to be over.

Moments later the beast disappeared into the darkness, leaving behind a dead human mage with an expression of complete horror stuck for enternity on his face. 

(barely made this one in time 16 minutes left roughly)

Thursday, September 4, 2014

Your character has a secret. What is it? Why don't they want anyone to know it?

Bonus: Write a scene in which they're actively trying to conceal the secret, or in which they're dealing with the aftermath of it being revealed.

Note: If you don't want us to know what the secret is before the scene, you can do these in reverse.

@Danaos @NightBirdBlue @betaband @31TeV @Briar_Rose @ISentinelPenguinI @TaraGil @the_quiller @jamescoker1226 @LostConnection @Kiel_Farren @Cynical @ItAintPretty @Swiftstryker @TacocaT @Romulus @coins @Malkalack @Virtualide @Morgan_R @Fireplay @nmelssx

(Damn, the characters I used for Ryu's native tongue aren't showing.)

Bonus:

Ryu swore in his native tongue as the blood started to gush from underneath his glove. The leather itself was still intact, protected by its durability enchantment, but it didn't save his hand from being crushed in the jaws of Detardeurus. "?? ??? shadow dragon," he spat. He glared at its corpse angrily. In the process of delivering the final blow, the scaly bastard had clearly sought revenge. Even in death, it had been difficult to pry his wounded hand free.

Dante glanced up at his care-taker with concern. "Ryu? Are you okay?" He leaned in closer, then saw the blood oozing from the Sinx's glove. "Holy crap, your hand! Is--"

"It's broken." Ryu stated with a grimace and a sigh. "I can still fight one-handed, but nothing as strong as our usual prey. I'm probably going to be out of commission for a little while."

Dante wasn't keen on the sight of blood, but his concern got the better of him. He reached out for Ryu's hand. "Let me see--"

"No." Ryu jerked away, accidentally smacking his hand against the rock-like exterior of the dragon. He hissed in pain. "I... don't need you to look at it. It's beyond your healing skill."

Dante scowled at that. True, he was a warlock, not a priest, but he did possess a little healing magic and it had been enough to bring himself and his partner back from the brink at least a few times. "I've helped you out of worse scrapes than a broken hand, you know."

Ryu rolled his eyes, but inside he felt himself smiling, albeit bitterly. Good, ol' predictable Dante, focusing on his pride again. Easily distracted. "I'm well aware, but though I trust you not to kill me with a heal when we're already close to death, I don't want you setting my bones. I might never be able to wield a katar again."

Dante turned red. "Hey...!" Ryu ignored his building anger and turned to Yuuki who had just finished healing the other five members of their party.

Yuuki turned to him with a smile when she noticed his gaze, blushing faintly, only for her eyes to widen fearfully when she saw the blood pooling at his wrist. "Ryu! Oh, holy Freya, I am so sorry! Gods, I thought--it's just--you seemed okay! You were still standing and I just didn't notice any--" She started babbling faster than he could follow and Ryu spied a glistening of teardrops in her eyes.

"It's fine, Yuu-chan, don't worry about it, I'll be alright." He tried to hide another grimace, but Dante made a grab for his hand again, causing him to swear deeply, though low so as not to offend the lady of the cloth among them. Ryu turned and glowered at the warlock. "Knock it off, dammit." He held out his hand towards the priestess. "I'm sure just a couple high heals from you and a bit of rest is all I need, Yuuki."

Yuuki studied his gloved hand skeptically. "I'm ... not sure, maybe I should get a better look at your wound--" She reached for the glove. Ryu reflexively drew his hand back and against his chest defensively. "That's not necessary." "But, it's much easier and more effective to be able to focus on the wound. If it doesn't heal properly--"

"It will be fine." Ryu stated forcefully.

Dante and Yuuki glanced at each other, confused, then back to Ryu. Yuuki hesitated. "I really should look, though..." Ryu's expression stopped her. There was something wrong with his eyes. They were cold. In spite of being a slayer for a living, Ryu always had a warmth about his mannerisms, a sort of steady gentleness. His carefree smile was contagious. Even when he was in pain, he had still found ways to make her laugh. That look in his eyes ... it hurt, but then, inexplicably, it was gone.

"Look, I'm sorry, I just--" Ryu scratched the back of his neck awkwardly with his intact hand and glanced away. "It would, uh... probably hurt a lot, to have you examine it."

Dante faltered, still appearing confused and skeptical for a moment, before he burst out laughing. "What the hell, Ryu? Don't be such a wuss. Big, scary assassin on the battle field, but when a healer girl touches your hand, you get all whiny?"

Ryu punched Dante's arm playfully with his unharmed hand. "Shuddap, twerp, or I'll break your hand and we'll just see who the 'wuss' is here. If that overgrown lizard had bitten you, you'd be cryin' like a baby right now."

"Would not!" "Would so!" "Would not!" "You totally would." "Liar!" "Fifth-rate mage." "Block-head!" Their argument continued until Yuuki broke it up to heal Ryu, but as the party fell back into formation and headed home, Ryu lagged behind. 'That was... too close.' He thought to himself, frowning. His fingers brushed against the palm of his formerly bloody hand. It still hurt like hell, but it was healing far more rapidly than it would've without magic.

Ryu had never taken off his earthen-colored, leather gloves in front of any of his friends before, nor did he ever plan to do so. He couldn't let them see, wouldn't let them find out what he really was. One glance at his palm and they would all know that he was one of the Marked Ones. A former servant of the dark force that nearly destroyed their world.

No one believed his kind could be saved or redeemed, no one believed that someone like him even had a soul to be saved--not even Ryu himself believed in that cause anymore. He had stared the evidence of his damnation in the face too many times.  

The dark purple and black bruise-like mark resembled a vine or a tentacle which was covered in thorn-like spikes. It curled from the base of his wrist to his palm, where it twisted into a spiral shape … an endless spiral of all-consuming darkness. A black hole he had foolishly stumbled into and somehow astonishingly found his way out of, but it was still too late for him to escape his own guilt.

He had lost so many to the fruit of his sin and so much innocent blood had been shed. He could not tell his partner the truth now, not unless he wanted to be cast out from humanity by the ones he called family. Still, Ryu would not deny he deserved that and much worse for what he had done.

He glanced up at Dante who was looking back at him with concern. Ryu flashed him a smile. He had never felt so fake. However, Dante just snorted, mumbled about him being a careless idiot, then went back to talking to Yuuki, and Ryu found that he could live with this lie another day. 

-@-@-@-

This is based on an analogy I wrote for some real life events, but the secret in the context of this universe is more or less that Ryu tapped into a power beyond humanity's understanding because he wanted to become stronger and catch up to his older friends so that he could go out on quests with them and protect them.

A noble goal perhaps, but unfortunately, that same power he formerly wielded is what caused an entire army of soulless warriors to rise up and wipe out about a third of the population.

Ryu managed to regain control of himself long before the actual war, but considering all of his closest friends died in that tragedy, he blames himself for not being there to help them--and worse, for the fact that he could've just as easily killed them himself. The remaining 2/3rds of humanity who witnessed the war deeply despise anyone associated with what happened and Ryu would at the very least be ostracized if not outright killed if the truth got out.

(This post is done in a old style blog post before the days of tumblr and twitter. So, for those old enough to remember the pre-teen blog posts in the style of Livejournal, this is for you. My apologies in advance. It was hard to tap into my inner teen of the time, so it’s not nearly as cringe-worthy or long as it should have been. Some grammar, typing, and spelling errors were done on purpose. I’m not sure if it counts as a scene, but it felt fun to do.

For the bonus and the exercise, technically, there is more than one secret at play in this series of mock-blog posts. Hopefully, it counts.)

September 20th, 2005

First Post!  (Public)

I’m so excited! This is my first post! Hello, world! No more hiding my diary from my little brother anymore. I can do private posts and friends only posts, My password is unguessable. My IRL friends don’t know about this. Yay! ^_^

 

September 21st, 2005

School Problems (Public)

Ew, I hate my homeroom teacher. She is so disgusting. She teaches algebra class, too. Did I mention I hate algebra? A few weeks into school, and Im already hate going to class.

 

September 23rd, 2005

Friday!!! (Public)

What’s up, internet? It’s finally Friday. Thank God! Me and my BFFs are totally going out later. We got a day of shopping and makeovers to do. So, Cindy’s paying for our nails. Becca is treating us to a makeover. That means I’m stuck with snacks this time. I hope we decide to get pretzels, because I’m soooo sick of smoothies and sundaes. It’s all going into my fatty fat thighs, I swear.

Edit: We got cookies instead. Yum!

Last edited on: September 23rd, 2005 21:05

 

September 27th, 2005

Testing, Testing (Friends-Only)

So, I come back after a year, and I only now just find out I can edit the date of my posts and put them whenever I want in the calendar? Lol I guess I’m a time traveler now. Time travel post!

I’ve been looking at my old posts, and I can’t believe all the drama I got into. I can’t blame myself. It was a hard time. I thought I was alone. I didn’t have a clue about anything back then. I’m glad I’m finally out of my TEENAGE ANGST phase, but I was such a bitch. I wish I could change what I did. If only I could go back in time for real and talk to myself. I’d give myself all sorts of advice. Tell her that what she’s feeling is okay. You’re going to be just fine.

 

October 3rd, 2005

Cindy Rant (Private)

OMG, wat is Cindy’s problem?1  She’s, like, a total bitch now. I say one bad thing about Jason and she blows it out of proportion. They barely event alk to each other. I don’t see the problem. I tried to ask Becca about it, but she won’t say anything. It’s like she’s hiding something. We always talk behind other people’s back. Everyone does it! Why is suddenly bad to do it now? Did the whole school suddenly grow a conscience when I turned around or something?

Edit:

Oh. Oh, that’s why. Stupidstupidstupid!

 

October 5th, 2005

School’s Newest Couple (Friends-Only)

So, Cindy and Jason are a couple now. Yeah, I know. Suddenly, it all makes sense. Cindy and I already kissed and made up by now. She gets it. I didn’t know. They make in okay couple. I guess. I’m supposed to be happy for them, but why did I feel miserable?

 

October 13th, 2005

Black List (Private)

List of people I hate right now:

*Cindy - because ever since she dated Jason, our friendship hasn’t been the same

*Jason - because he shouldn’t have messed everything up by dating Cindy, he’s not even nice to her

*Becca - because she’s a stupid bitch and thinks I’m jealous

*Mrs. Rivera - because I still hate algebra and I still hate her class. I feel so stupid every time I go there!

*Mom - because she won’t mind her own business with me and her friends. That’s none of her business. I can handle it myself.  MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS!!!1

Edit: Okay, I’ll admit. I’m jealous, but I won’t say why. I’m still mad at Becca.

Last edited on: October 14th, 2005 23:11

 

October 17th, 2005

I hate algebra (Public)

So, I’m doing bad in class, again. Mrs. Rivera wants me to come after school to work with me. I’m not allowed to go to band practice if I don’t go. This sucks. Did I mention how much I hate algebra?

 

October 18th, 2005

Friend Troubles

It’s getting harder and harder to talk with my friends. I think I’m fine with Becca. I can open up to her and she minds her business. She doesn’t ask anything or pry. It’s Cindy. She thinks I’m never truthful with her. I really want to tell her what’s wrong, but I can’t. I’m sick of my friends.

 

October 20th, 2005

Good Day (Public)

I take back everything I said about algebra and Mrs. Rivera. She is an angel.

 

October 20th, 2005

Private (Private)

I opened up to a teacher today. I thought she’d send me to a counselor, but she really listened to me. That meant a lot. Algebra’s not that hard anymore.

 

October 29th, 2005

Progress (Friends Only)

Good news. I made some progress with my friends. Bad news? It’s only because I’m getting better at lying about what’s wrong.

 

November 1st, 2005

Coming Clean (Private)

So, I wrote to one of those teen advice columns about my problems, and they listed a bunch of things I could do. One of them was writing out all my confessions out in the open. Johnny still thinks I keep a paper diary and still tries to find it even though it no longer exists, so I’m writing it here. Nobody reads this blog anyways. Not even me!

I think it all started when one of my BFFs started dating this guy. I don’t even remember him all that well anymore since they broke up.  Long story short, I became the most horrible person ever over it. It took me a while to realize that I was jealous, but not jealous of my friend. I was jealous of the guy. And that’s how I figured it out. I was gay. Maybe bi. I’m still not sure yet. I don’t plan to keep it a secret. I already told one of my favorite teachers, so I guess it’s not a secret anymore. I never felt more liberated. Truth really sets you free. I plan to at least come out to my family by next year. It could be my New Years Resolution if I’m not out by then.

But I have a new problem now. It’s a new secret, and its putting a strain on my friendships.

I saw this one group. They post secrets anonymously in pictures. Maybe I’ll do the same. I’ll just take out the first sentence I’ll write it like this:

My name is Amanda. A few months ago, I realized I liked girls. That’s not the secret.

The secret is that I’m in love with my straight girl best friend. I don’t want to ruin our friendship by telling her.

And that’s my real problem.

Edit: I’m looking at this post right now. I have one more confession to make. You know? This last post made me feel good. I think I’ll write more of these long blog post from now on.
Last edited on: November 1st, 2005 23:59

Aerien (from Becoming Legend):

In the setting of Becoming Legend, young children serve as battle mages in the Aegis Order. The Aegis demands absolute loyalty; deserters are hunted down ruthlessly and killed on sight. Aerien, however, managed to leave the Aegis Order behind when he was presumed dead after a devastating battle that nearly wiped out all of the Aegis. He spent the next few years in the small village of Solace, pretending to be a refugee child and hiding the fact that he's an awakened mage, because if any of the villagers decide to turn him in for the reward money, he would spend the rest of his life being hunted down.

Bonus:

The iron sword is a leaden weight in your hands as you watch the wraiths close in on the village that has become your home in the last four years. All around you, you see pale faces, terrified eyes, and hands trembling with fear as they grip weapons that you know will do no good. Standing on your left is old Reedman Boll, his hair already snow white with age. He's mumbling a prayer to the Emperor under breath with his eyes fixed upon the wraiths with a resigned sort of grief as his last hope is to die before he sees his loved ones killed. To your left, your grim-faced master carries his heavy forge hammer in one hand as his other hand claps down on your shoulder.

"Aer. Raise your head. We've done all we can; there's nothing left to regret," he tells you grimly.

If you were only a blacksmith's apprentice, his words would be a great comfort, even in the face of almost certain death. Instead, his words finally break your resolve.

You cannot watch as these people - these honest, hard-working, great-hearted people - suffer a fate worse than death. Despite yourself, you have grown to love this village and all of the people in it, even if saving them will ultimately cost you everything.

You turn to meet your master's coal black eyes and reply, "No. There is one more thing I can do."

For the first time in five years, you release the stranglehold on your mana, and, like a breaking dam, it bursts forward in a roar of power that floods through the village like a tidal wave. The overpowering presence of the wraiths is swept away like chaff in a storm. Your master, stunned, parts his lips to speak, but you never give him the chance as a sharp crack of translocation moves you outside of the village and right in the heart of the wraiths in the blink of an eye.

Every moment is painfully familiar. Being surrounded by rotting flesh, gnashing teeth, and clawing hands, with cold iron singing in your hand and brilliant mana burning in your blood. With every wraith you kill, the facade Aaron the blacksmith's quiet apprentice falls away. Underneath is Aerien, Aegis, born in darkness and forged in fire, a human weapon still as deadly as the day you sealed your past away.

Compared to the wraiths you faced in the war of the north, these wraiths are pitifully weak. It feels like only a heartbeat before you realize you are standing alone in a field of corpses, your sword dripping blood. Despite their numbers, despite being five years out of practice, despite wielding a weapon you've never been trained to use, you're unscathed. It's almost funny, how easy the actual task was compared to how long you agonized over the decision. You flick the blade to clear it of blood, then look back to the village.

Funny, how the town you love scares you more than the wraiths you hate.

Instead of translocating, you decide to walk back and steel yourself for the inevitable.

Master Howe stands at the village gate, waiting. It seems like every other notable person in the town has shown up as well, as the number of people crowded around the village gate makes passing through entirely impossible. When you're finally standing before them, there's a moment of awkward silence before the village head reluctantly takes responsibility and steps forward to speak first.

"That was - How - You -" he makes several attempts to start, but seems torn between so many different things that need saying that nothing coherent is actually said. He finally settles on a generic, "How?"

Your answer is a single word.

"Aegis."

All of the color drains from his face as the crowd ripples with gasps and murmurs of shock. To harbor a deserter is to be held accountable for the same crime. With the amount of wraiths you've just destroyed, the authorities will come looking soon, and they'll certainly wonder how the village of Solace survived unharmed if none of the Imperial Mages were close enough to be deployed to defend it.

The villagers are faced with the unenviable options of hiding you and risking execution if they're caught, or trying to subdue you in the name of the Emperor.

Your master, however, steps forward. To your surprise, he walks right up to you and places his hands on your shoulders, ignoring the blood and grime you're covered in. He doesn't spare your sword a glance, nor does his face show any sign of fear or apprehension.

He says, "I always suspected you were a soldier. What rank were you?"

Almost too quietly to hear, you confess, "At the time I deserted, I was [01]."

To your surprise, Master Howe only nods grimly and says, "Good. That means we don't have a chance of actually subduing you. If, say, you were to flee after being discovered, there's nothing we could do to stop you. Not even if you were to steal  some traveling supplies before you go."

Before you even have a chance to express your shock that he's letting you go, he leans in and says too quietly for anyone but the two of you to hear, "For what it's worth, I was honored to have you as an apprentice."

WIP

Friday, September 5, 2014

Endings! Write an ending to the story you began with one of your first sentences on Monday (Or feel free to write one now, if you missed Monday)

Bonus: Write a different ending that goes with the same first sentence.

@Danaos @NightBirdBlue @betaband @31TeV @Briar_Rose @ISentinelPenguinI @TaraGil @the_quiller @jamescoker1226 @LostConnection @Kiel_Farren @Cynical @ItAintPretty @Swiftstryker @TacocaT @Romulus @coins @Malkalack @Virtualide @Morgan_R @Fireplay @nmelssx

The scene:

The house had felt so empty at first, and it was sad, but it was normal. It was proper. It was how nature intended for goodbyes to feel. Sad, solemn, heavy, and most of all, final. Ethan had never felt so alone as he did the first day he woke up without her lying next to him. It had not been easy, but after the first couple days, he found a way to drag himself out of bed and back to work. He could almost hear her voice in his head, laughing at him, calling him lazy. God, how he missed that laugh more than any sound in the world.

Little by little, he began to gather up the scattered, shattered pieces of his life and arrange them into some semblance of order again. It could not be said that he had moved on, not when he heard her voice so often in his every day. As he finally cleared out the dishes in the sink, he heard the lit of her surprise: "Ethan? I've been asking you to help me clean up the kitchen for months," and then she'd chuckle at him. He'd feel a pang in his heart and reply to no one: "Took me a while, didn't it?" "Better late than never, baby, thank you."

That was his world right now. No one could say in those days whether it was keeping his sanity intact or destroying it willfully. Whether it was hearing her call him inside for lemonade after yard work, or fussing at him to get the pipes fixed in the kitchen, or whispering I love you in the middle of the night, her voice was all he had--at first.

One morning, as he grabbed a cup of coffee, Ethan felt her kiss the back of his neck and put her arms around his waist just like she always had--he leaned into the embrace for a moment before he remembered, 'she died three months ago.' He tried to snap himself out of the delusion, he felt like a fool for allowing himself to sink this far into it ... until he saw a pale hand--much paler than it had been in life--resting lovingly on his stomach. The coffee cup in his hand shattered as it hit the floor. He swore as the hot liquid splashed him and stained his pants. He turned, wide-eyed, to stare at his deceased lover and was met only with empty air.

 

Ending one:

This was it. He had done it. The heart of a lamb, the eyes of a falcon, the liver of a rabbit, the tongue of a dog, the stomach of a cat, and the body of a newborn babe, its throat slit less than an hour ago and its body freshly quartered. He had already made the circle for the incantation, each individual symbol drawn around the body pieces and corpse in their respective owner's blood. He smiled gleefully as he placed the final component, her beautiful corpse, in the center.

Now, now he was ready. He saw her ghost standing beside him, a wild and maddening smile on her lips. She mouthed to him her affection as he could not hear her voice anymore--but it did not matter. He would hear it again soon, oh so soon. He kissed the brow of her cold form, then her lips. She had tasted death, now so had he, but with this spell, they would both live together and stay together forever. "Until death do us part, I promised, Lenna--but it was not enough for us." He caressed her cheek, ignoring the insects skittering and wiggling across her rotting skin. "I want to keep you by my side forever and always."

He stepped back and recited the spell, his excitement building with every word. Soon, soon she would be his again. They would run away and escape this stupid, narrow-minded town with all of its naysayers who called him crazy, who told him he had lost her for good, who pleaded with him to give up his foolishness... and worst of all, the people who had tried to stop him. The parents of the baby, that petting zoo owner, the police officers, they were all dead now. They were the ones who were gone forever, that he had made certain of, but his dear  beloved still remained.

As he spoke the last three word, the sirens drew close. He did not panic, he did not fear, he did not even notice. Her lovely form drew itself up from the floor. She opened her eyes and stared into his, smiling brilliantly. He didn't see the maggots in her mouth or the worms in her eyes. All he saw was her beauty, what it once was and what it would always be to him.

He didn't hear the officers' thunderous footsteps as they came up the stairs, nor the warning to stop moving lest they would shoot. All he could think about was holding her again. She opened her arms to him and he ran to her. Two gunshots rang out and he fell into her arms. "My love..." he gasped. "No! Not ... not now, not when we've come so close."  

"It's alright, Ethan." She murmured softly. "Let's face death again, this time, together."

The police reports and papers made no mention of seeing anyone or anything rise from the dead. All they saw was a madman clutching his wife's corpse, unable to accept her death or decay. His foolishness in trying to revive her led to the deaths of eleven other people, including his mother and sister.

As was his wish, he and his wife were buried together, he with a hole in his head and her with a hole in her heart.

(Honestly, I have an idea for the second ending, I just can't quite formulate it properly yet.)

Monday's scene:

Brightmore was a peaceful little burrow, it lay a bit off the main road and most of its few dozen inhabitants already reached a respectable age, that is, until a bloodcurdling screamed pierced the sultry August night. Edwin Bailey, the local police officer who drew the wrong straw and had patrol duty that night, was just driving his car down the abandoned Church Road when he heard it. Though he had been softly nodding behind the wheel of his car, he immediately sprang into action, turned on the sirens and, while trying not to slip on the cobblestones, drove as fast as he could towards the origin of the sound.

He found it just as he passed Mrs. Attaway's flower shop down in Baker Street. There, illuminated by the headlights of his car, he saw the mangled body of what looked like a teenage girl. Though a slight shiver went up his spine and he could feel his stomach turning inside of him, Edwin still took his flashlight and went to inspect the corpse. Up close it looked even more horrifying. If it wasn't for the rope that tied the poor girl's wrists together, Edwin could have sworn she was savaged by some brutish beast. Though he couldn't touch the body due to a possible contamination of the evidence, he could see a gaping hole where the girls chest should be. In the slowly spreading puddle of blood, he could also discern what he thought were her entrails, at least what was left of them. The most horrid, though, were the eyes. In the harsh light of the police car's headlights, her eyes seemed almost... alive, screaming with horror and despair.

Feeling his dinner coming up his throat, Edwin dashed back towards the safety of his car, sat down in the driver's seat with a sigh, and called the murder in.

Ending one:

"I need back-up as soon as possible at 431 Marshton Lane. Suspect is armed and has a hostage. I repeat, he has taken a hostage."

With his heart pounding in his chest and his gun in his hand, Edwin took a last deep breath. Dead silence had fallen in the apartment building's hallway. There is no time to wait on back-up, he has no idea what that creep is doing to Clara. Remembering his training, Edwin kicks the door just below the doorknob. One, two, three more tries and the door gives way.

Blood rushes to Edward's head and the surge of adrenaline makes it seem like his surroundings start to blur. A living room, empty. Kick in the first door, bathroom, empty. Second door, study, empty as well. Third door, bedroom... Clara's body lying on a bed, still dressed though, maybe nothing has happened yet...

*BANG*

A bullet flies past Edwin, merely grazing his shoulder. Almost without an afterthought, Edwin returns fire and shoots two bullets in rapid succession. His bullets hit their targets, Edwin always was a good shot (though he didn't like to fire guns). Harry falls to the ground, little streams of blood flowing from his right arm and leg.

It's finally over, the Brightmore Maimer has been stopped. Maybe Edwin can finally sleep tonight.

Ending two:

"How did we end up here, Charlie? I used to think we were best friends, but now... I don't know anymore."

Charlie takes a step towards Edwin, but his hands remain raised and his eyes continue to fixate on the loaded gun. "And why shouldn't we be friends anymore? Think of all the good times we had, the sad times, the happy times, all of the memories we have together. Are you really going to throw all that away because of a few skanks?"

Edwin can feel his hand shaking. His gun feels heavier and heavier with each passing second, but he does not feel comfortable lowering it. His eyesight slightly blurs as tears start welling up behind his eyelids: "Don't talk to me about the past! I didn't want this to happen. God help me I still wish this has all been a bad dream. You forced me to hunt you down! Those... Those girls... How can you even sleep at night?"

Edwin can't put his finger on it, but something in Charlie's expression changes. His eyes seem... wilder somehow. "Don't you see? They had it coming, they all did. They WANTED me to kill them! They had no morality, no decency whatsoever. Yet in their death they serve a grand purpose. He says that my actions were right, he whispers to me, they all do. The voices are happy now."

"Charlie..."

"Can't you see the great plan? We can be happy together, you, me, the whole gang. Just like old times."

A slow trickle of tears is now running down Edwin's face "Charlie, we are not in high school anymore. Times change, for the better or the worse. Those voices that speak to you, they aren't real. You are not well Charlie, you haven't taken your medication in a long time. Please, just come with me to the station. This will all be right, I promise."

"No! My work is not done yet. I see now, Ed. Times have changed indeed and even my so-called 'best friend' has turned against me. You wish to lock me up? You want to feed me pills for the rest of my life? Never! I'd rather die than to go through a hell like that!"

Edwin's heart starts beating even louder. Charlie cannot be allowed to continue his murder spree. "Charlie, I beg you: don't do anything stupid. Come with me, please, I can help, I promise."

However, Edwin's attempts at persuasion fail to move Charlie. Taking one last look at his old friend, he turn around and runs...

*BANG*

A single gunshot echoes through the alleyway. Charlie's body hits the ground. Silence follows. A still moment in time, broken only by the dripping of blood and tears on the concrete floor.

When the short man, only 3 feet in stature, settled eyes upon the craft on which I rode, he had taken me for a god; he promptly attempted to shoot me down within a minute.  FACKING  Dwarves.

I didn't think I'd have such a great friend as Horthrah.  As hot-tempered as he was, as stubborn as he was, as sensitive and kind and sin-ridden as he was, he proved himself to be a man of great character.  Though bedraggled and rag-clad he was before and after his exile from the Bloc, he served his people as best as he could.

Funny, both of us, from different parts of the world, had traveled here, in the heart of the continent, to seek the source of all that was good and to bring it back to our nations.  Perhaps we had found the source early on, but it was in ourselves; the horrors we had faced as headed inland were merely catalysts, things to bring out the better side of us.

Well, to me, it was.

For Horthrah, it was his undoing.

It was when we were past the Third of Four did he suddenly stop, simply as though he were a broken clock.  His short, thick legs were digging deep into the gravelly mountainside so desperately, I had considered helping him up.

I inquired; he remained silent.

I inquired again, and the next time and so forth.  And then I noticed something.

He was weeping.  His face, not unlike mine in the fact that it was smeared with grime to the point of anonymity, squeezed itself, and two rivers messily flowed down from the thick crevices that had shown his age.  No voice erupted from his throat, nothing.

But we both had to press forward; I didn't know at the time that there was no Source, but we couldn't just stop then.

This is why I stood here alone today.  On my return trip, after I came upon the village that was full of the unaware, the ignorant, he was still there.

But he had been turned to stone.  We all know that old dwarvish legend, of the man turned to stone once his final friend had gone.  You may make me out to be a god of ice, who had no compassion.

If so, then I ask you : Why does he stand here, alive again as not a Dwarve babe, but of my own kin?

Out of my generosity, I have one last gift to grant to you : Horthrah.  He has come of my own magnanimity to treat you all the kindness you have given us.  I had to learn how to save lives, and now I place him here to endanger not the lives that you yourselves possess, but those of your children, your wives, and you companions.

I thank you for the summon.

*The sounds of footsteps are heard and fade as the speaker leaves the room, followed by the sounds of a group of things falling erratically, as if many had simply fell and died where they sat.*