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tedy @ 12-2-09 10:24
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@ 01-9-06 03:18
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Who? @ 05-18-05 00:29
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Isawa @ 05-16-05 17:46
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Isawa @ 05-15-05 04:36
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Isawa @ 05-4-05 18:51
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 The Masque and the Maul |
| Posted by atama ga okashii - 02-12-05 05:03 - 0 comments |
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(A short bit of prose. It's alright, more to introduce a character.)
The vein of pulsating warmth throbbed eerily this night, more sinister than others. Like a quilt of nightmarish thread the sky canopied existence, and a sinuous fog curdled the sight. Neat bricked roads, square and unappealing homes, these styles were ubiquitous to the brutal Septim. Utter quiet. Night had birthed her gifts, and those who accepted them, were induced to her lullaby. But a chosen few denied the offer. A patter of rain, first in gentle droplets, but time transmuted them to darkened pikes. Faintly, the uniformed rows of torches hissed a fatal sonnet. Copper helm and plate reflected this gloss in a vague fashion. Chiseled faces, lengthy blades and vile dispositions. The Combine would make war! But not to any foe…
“Foreigners! They threaten the peoples of our empire! Who is to come to our domains?! What is expected of those who defile our sanctum, answer with blood!”
“DEATH!”
They charged haphazardly into the pine brush, guerilla war cries hazing the distinctive line between man and ape. It was an indentation in the rock surface, more a lean-to then a true cavern. Inside lay the playthings of his deceit. Around ten-score soldiers stood armed, most of them Leng, but a number J’Hara made up the ranks. But something seemed unhealthy, unnatural, about them. Lacerations too deep to see, something accomplished internally. They were slaves of the mind. But not by psionic means, not at all. A deeper evil was involved in this. Like a steel breeze, the murmur glided forward.
”Kill. Kill, them all.”
( I see a bad moon risin'.
I see trouble on the way.
I see earthquakes and lightnin'.
I see bad times today.…)
Their charge hand ended. The general glared down lethargically, but this was soon ended with an expression of utmost wrath. His blade sailed crisply, the deluge about him, the earth a gritty slosh. An indistinct roar, and a thunderous calamity. The Combine would make war. Thwack. Many of the front ranks were silenced by a fusillade of death, born from quivers and deceased in foreheads. But this disquieted none, the assault carried on. A dozen crossbowmen readied their weapons, while the forerunners steadied close to their targets. Trickery; the charge had made them senseless. Rush mats concealed a series of wide holes. W ...read more |
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| Lightly Tapping, High Pitched and At Home |
| Posted by Koroshiya-no Yagi - 12-29-04 01:48 - 0 comments |
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(Ok i'm going to start my first solo story so... .here goes nothing... this is set 1 year before )
Jonathan lay on the table his head throbing with the intensity of which no headache had ever given him before. However, this headache was much different than most of the ones Jon had received before. This headache was from the man holding a knife to his throat.
Just 10 minutes ago Jonathan had been laying on his bed skecting what would seem to have been his finest work at the time. A drawing of the bloody assasination of Bontono's parents. A noble in Septum had asked him to do this about 2 weeks ago. The noble had sent him a envalope containing a letter, and an inital payment of 1/100 the final price. The noble had said in his letter he would pay him handsomly and that if he did not do this for him Jon would be exacuted.
As Jonathan had just finished the sketch, a man dressed in black burst through the door. Jonathan jumped up from his bed, sword in hand. The man said in a voice that he reconized
"Where the Hell is he?"
"Who is he? and who are you?"
The man then said "I'm not important... yet. He is the one who sent you this." The man held up the letter that had comishened him to draw the portrait he was sketching.
"Your their son aren't you, Bontono?" Jon said in the most sinister voice he had to anyone.
"FUCK YOU!"  Bontono grabbed the candle laying on the table next to him. And flung it at Jon's head. The candle's flame went out during its 10 foot journey to Jon's head. Jon couldn't manage to dodge the candle, and it struck him dead in the forhead.
Jon just stood there staring at Bontono. He calmly said "I don't know anything about him. Now go away before i call the guard."
"BULL SHIT! You know just what this is! i read it, and whats that pad of paper on the bed?"
Jon then inched closer to Bontono, and told him "I don't know who is or what your talking about!"
"Do I have to do this the hard way?"
Jon jumped towards Bontono, and tried to hit him on the head with the blunt of his sword. Bontono stopped Jon's blade, and hit Jon over the head with the but end of his sword.
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| Unseen Forces |
| Posted by atama ga okashii - 12-2-04 00:28 - 0 comments |
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The muddying of the soul is a feat far to delicate for me to explain. But it can happen to anyone. To the meek, to the strong, to the choosers and pickers. Once polluted however, it is far too difficult to return to normality. It is the curse of being. Let my words aware you. The world is a horrible, horrible place. It will not forgive and won’t forget. Listen hear my children. ‘Tis a tale far older than you or I. 'Tis a yarn of triumph, and a spinneret of woe. Yes, children, there are powers out there controlling these things. Even the greatest of gods cannot stop them. In a sense, these fates are….
Unseen Forces
Mottled sponge carpeted the frigid expanse that made the forest of Hals’stul. Thickets lined with a discomforting abundance of moisture bristled against rain sodden layers of bark. A single line wove its way through the moist hell, copper chains chiming, cart wheels churning. The ragtag horde sported an assembly of pike, short sword and stave alike. Foreign workings had completed the uniformed cloaks; silver satin set off by an emerald peacock. But fronting the procession were a far more regal sect. a trio of men, swathed in blazing rose outfits made for a more imposing group then their lackeys. Each mounted a capital specimen of equine, seemingly unaware of what exactly went on. No sooner had the men begin to shuffle awkwardly had a clearing emerged to the delight of most. Of the three true ‘men’, the grandest was an elderly Kai, a pronounced beard shuffled down to waist length.
“Blessed mother Izuko, we thank you for this gift. Shelter far surpasses material wealth in stature. For when, if at all, I should pass on, your presence shall give me a shelter of security far greater than any other. Take of Velarus, for he who loathe our mother hath never been able to bestow us this righteous gift. Fo-“
“Old bastard won’t shut up and die…” An oh-so loud utterance gave way.
A bitter remorse glazed the Kai’s twin spheres of charcoal. Granted, a null in activity followed. Carts led by mule found an impromptu parking space. Pine eddied with the passing currents, puddles adopting ripples as some foreign penance. Lightning burst in a hail of both oppression and fire. In a guttural roar the climax resounded, drumbeats pulsating rhythmically. Embres born of the calamity were doused with little remorse by the vatic deluge. A second bol ...read more |
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| Voices of the Flame |
| Posted by Isawa - 11-29-04 13:42 - 4 comments |
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The wind smelled of lamp oil and ginger.
Hardly a common scent in the Septim empire. Rayne had not smelled ginger since he had left Kaiji four years prior, had not tasted ginger for longer. And the Septim relied primarily on torches for light... it meant only one thing. More travellers on the road ahead, and beyond that, travellers with a bit more class than the common Septim caravans he had been travelling with for some months now. Or at least, he hoped so.
Mere minutes on the road confirmed his theory of travellers - he could see the Meiji oil lamps hung from branches ahead of him, and the scent of ginger had grown much stronger with each passing stride. It was that intoxicating aroma which spurred him ever onward. There was nothing in the world quite like ginger. Add a little nutmeg to the mix and there you had perfection. So sad that it was a rarity in Septim that only the nobles could afford.
Rayne, of course, was not a nobleman. Indeed, most peasents would cast him aside because of the purple tint of his skin and silver sheen of his eyes... and rightly so, he believed. Raised among the Kwo'ra, Rayne had a keen sense for just how truly vile they were. Creatures bred from birth into a life of hatred and murder. Their politics were those of feuding warlords. The most cunning came out on top - usually with the help of poison and an assassin's blade.
He just wished, a little wistfully, that they would allow him the chance to prove his own worth. He was not like his father, nor his mother. He shuddered at the thought of it. They had asked him to kill an innocent, he had refused. He had escaped with his life and his guitar, and little else.
"Wei!"
He called out a greeting, basing everything on the assumption that this people were Mei. Whether they were or not, he just wanted a place to sleep and a bit of food. The ginger, especially. He would have killed for a bit of ginger. Indeed, he noted the possibility that, if they would not share, he would make a lunge for the ginger and run. It was how the game is meant to be played. Rayne was an expert.
"You!" The reply came in Latin. "Why are you here?"
"My name is Rayne Ariel... I simply seek a place to rest, and a little food. I can earn my keep and..."
"You have an instrument I see! Forgive me, forgive me, come here please, I insist! Pluck us a ...read more |
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Read 245 times - last comment by Isawa
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| The Storming of Aman-sol |
| Posted by RequiemReaper - 11-19-04 04:14 - 5 comments |
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((Only Isawa and RequiemReaper are permitted to post))
The sun was no longer in sight. Instead, a cloudy sky hung over the city of Rome, amplifying the terrible darkness of nightfall. Azrael sighed. He wished his last nights would be a little less ominous. For one so willing to die, he should expect no less, though a sea of stars would have worked wonders for his present mood. It was just one his many wishes that were not going to come true.
Lofting his bag over his shoulder, he followed Iten through cobblestone streets, examining the Arkadian architecture along the way. There was nothing special about it, and not nearly as pleasing to the eyes as the works of the Kai or Mei; his homeland had a dull sense of structure. Just a series of buildings that looked exactly the same, square, and varying only in size and signs. And, ironically, the absence of sound accompanied it well. It felt as if they were walking through a ghost town, or perhaps a foreign reality. There was absolutely no one outside.
"Aye, you would swear this place is empty," Iten spoke up in a gruff voice. "There ent a soul in sight."
Azrael nodded his head in agreement. Jen's voice was heavily accented, a common trait among dwarves--if you couldn't spot his beard, you could definitely pinpoint his voice through a crowd of people. Well, at least he tried to be optimistic about everything, that eliminated any problem Azrael had with him. The husky warrior's company was welcome in troubled times.
Azrael himself, however, chose to remain silent. It was seldom for the psychic drapped in black to speak anymore. After obtaining the katana at his side, his role in the war had changed dramatically, jumping from a frontline soldier to a defender of the archmagi. It affected him deeply. He saw more bloodshed from that side of the battlefield than he had seen in a lifetime of warfare, more friends fall than he ever hoped was possible. A terrible experience, horrifying in every way...
However, those events only strengthened his resolve. Vyrisa must be stopped at all costs. Of course, never in a thousand years did he dream of the Alliance's plan, their final step to end this war. Azrael was informed of it only a few minutes ago. While a feeling of dread seized him at first, it subsided to grim certainity of what had to be done. It was the reason why he was to meet with Quari ...read more |
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Read 98 times - last comment by Isawa
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| Cats 4: No Twelve Off My Ass |
| Posted by Drasoini - 11-13-04 06:38 - 1 comments |
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Our Story Thus Far:
Cats
Our heroes, a band of noble dragonslayers, decide to tackle the biggest dragon of them all: Hirushi the Dragon Goddess. They soon discover that the word 'goddess' in the title 'Dragon Goddess' was actually given to Hirushi because she posessed godlike powers. To their immense dismay, our heroes are transformed into a group of cats!
Hilarity ensues.
Our heroes, very displeased with the entirely unfair punishment Hirushi dished upon them, immediately set out in an epic adventure to seek a wizard who can undo their polymorphization. However, disappointment after disappointment leads them to a terrible discovery: Their curse can only be lifted by the Mighty Arch Wizard Uberon, who lives atop the highest point of Mesoza, in the great CNN tower from which he broadcasts the daily news to families all across Llyrrin, and can only be reached on the sixth hour of the sixth day of the sixth week of the sixth month every year. Our heroes, in their desperation, forgot that there aren't six weeks in a month.
Hilarity ensues.
Cats 2: Now For Something Completely Different
Our heroes began on their journey to the frozen continent of Kazekei where they must ascend Mesoza and beat up the security guards at CNN, all for a chance to implore the Mighty Arch Wizard Uberon to lift their curse. Setting out from Western Arkadia, our heroes began a long trek across the massive continent. When they reached Rome, things started to go wrong - and they made numerous inappropriate comments about the nature of sex.
Hilarity ensues.
In Rome, our poor, defenseless heroes discover that the Septim people dont consider cats to be citizens, and they are not allowed to go onboard the boat to the port city of Nagasaki! This is a horrible blow to their journey, and our cats are forced to find a way to get to Nagasaki other than the Septim ferries. They begin their travel south to seek passage among the Moon Elves of the Lyfyr River. However, midway through the journey, they came across a fierce and terrible battle. A number of dinosaurs were waging war against a massive warren of rabbits, and the cats were blocked passage by both sides, who demanded tribute in order for them to gain passage.
Hilarity ensues.
Cats 3: This Time It's Personal
Our heroes had a horrible dilemma. They had nothing to offer to the ...read more |
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Read 54 times - last comment by Drasoini
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| Gate of Malice |
| Posted by Drasoini - 11-10-04 15:47 - 1 comments |
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She could barely see the man's silhouette through the haze of agony which consumed her. He had harvested her left eye, taken her right hand, and taken the blade. It was the blade that mattered to her. She could not allow it to fall into his hands while she yet drew breath. For an enemy of Izuko to claim Malice as their own, the consequences would be unthinkable. She had to reclaim the blade.
The wind screeched in rage across the frozen wastelands, ripping assunder the fabric of the sky in icy wails. Two creatures, both human in form, both something greater in spirit, stood amidst the gale, neither touched by the biting cold. One was a slender woman, dark eyed and dark haired, wrapped within a grey cloak. Her gaze rested firmly upon the other, a tall man clad in crimson and violet. At his side, the obsidian pommel and adamant hilt that could only belong to Malice.
Her mouth flooded with the taste of blood, her flesh with the feel of bleeding, her eyesight given way to a crimson haze. Her ears were ringing. She could feel nothing but the blinding agony her foe had wreaked upon her. He had the blade. She could not let him keep the blade... a foe of Izuko could not lay claim to the blade... as long as she lived, he would not have his way.
With all the strength left to her damaged body, she flung herself at the offender, the one arm she yet possessed striking for where she calculated his face must be. She never struck home. Incredible pain, more agonizing than any she had ever felt. She could feel her legs buckle from under her, then could not feel her legs at all, as her body fell in two at the waist. She had failed.
"Tsukawara..."
The woman's voice held nothing but cold contempt. The two stood, meeting in gaze, both radiating hatred for the other of such extremity as to warp the purest of souls. Their's was an animosity unrivaled by any mortals. Divine agent and agent of deicide. Thick droplets of crimson cascaded to the ground with the snow, staining deep vermillion the pristine ground.
"Ayami."
His voice was no more welcoming than hers. It was, if anything, less so. He felt the warm droplets of blood pelt against his hands and face. The weather was now with him, and the spirits of the dark favored his victory. It was time to crush the upstart and forever end the power of his Lady's nemesis. The raining ichor would be insignificant ...read more |
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Read 201 times - last comment by Drasoini
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| Before the Rising Smoke |
| Posted by Isawa - 10-8-04 17:22 - 4 comments |
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(( Post at will. This story needs to be redone. If you want to make the opening post, go ahead. If you'd prefer I did, drop me a PM. )) |
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Read 72 times - last comment by Isawa
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| Cloud Rising |
| Posted by Isawa - 10-8-04 16:44 - 23 comments |
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(( If you want to join during the first page, feel free to join. Once there's more than a page in posts, I ask that you PM me for permission so I may discuss it with other roleplayers before you post. Got that? Good. Enjoy the plotline that Joe and I spent so much time and energy perfecting. Oh, and if my opening is too metaphoric, bite me and find a more simpleminded site! ))
It was a silent day, gray day.
Velvet clouds of gray over a harsh gray landscape, melting into gray forests in the distance. The planet was dying, and the luster of the world was gone. And here Yumiko waited, in the shadow beneath the sign of the Copper Coronet, awaiting one she knew was coming, yet could not identify. At first, she felt a slight anger at Izuko's lack of divulgence... though she knew one could not be angered by secretiveness from the deity of secrets.
A streak of grayed, subdued, blue poked through the passive sea of gray, but only for a moment. The clouds swallowed it up once more. They always did. The sun and sky were pawns in a game far greater than anyone could ever know.
Crowds of gray people passed by her, bustling about, speaking in Latin - a tongue she did not understand, had no wish to understand. They were all so involved with their lives, so possessed by the belief that they were of some significance in the grand scheme of things. Every so often, a flash of color from the masses. An alabaster laugh, a vermillion scream. But it was merely a play of her mind. They were all as gray as the sky, as gray as the earth, as gray as the imposing forests to the west.
Heavy, armored footsteps. A troop of city guardsmen, gray people on their gray tasks, living from day to colorless day, swallowed up in the voids of hubris and the emptyness of ego that consumed the world anymore. Gray men, leading gray, meaningless lives.
A leaf drifted down from a nearby tree, a simple, gray maple, struggling to survive the drenching in alcohol it got every gray morning, reaching for the gray skies with branches lacking definition. Gray leaves upon gray limbs, nestled between grey buildings upon an earth lacking color and song. More gray, in an endless sea of gray, now shedding gray leaves on a gray autumn morning.
The leaf touched the earth, near Yumiko's foot, and with a delicate motion of her hand, she swept the the little thing into her hand by it's stem, examining it. A leaf of ...read more |
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Read 484 times - last comment by RequiemReaper
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| The murders of Baghdad |
| Posted by Koroshiya-no Yagi - 10-1-04 22:54 - 10 comments |
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((This is a my first co-op so i hope it works.
everyone is welcome to join.))
As Bontono swang his short sword towards the man dressed in black. The man elegantly dodge the strike, but fell pray to his own weapon, a gladius. The man slised striaght through his leg leaves a slow flow of blood rushing from his thigh. Bontono took advantage of the situation and whacked the dull side of his sword against the man. The man fell to the floor, bleeding and dieing quickly. Bontono decided to put an end to him and cut off his head. Whack! Bontono exterminated the man.
Bontono then searched through the man's pockets and found only a piece of paper with Uriel Sicien IV signature on it.
((next person please continue.
Shingai: Use '( )' to denote Out Of Character)) |
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Read 87 times - last comment by Koroshiya-no Yagi
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