Count me in
|# ¿ Apr 29, 2015 03:50|
|# ¿ Dec 3, 2022 16:34|
The Deadly Curse of American Revolutionary Oliver Hammond
The air was muggy as my fellow militiamen set up camp for the night. All I could smell was the lingering scent of smoke and gunpowder as I clutched my left hand, adorned in a bloodied tourniquet, tightly to my body, its throbbing pain pulsating with each beat of my heart. My left hand was now without its little finger, cut off by a redcoat's bayonet. I had my revenge, however, for he didn't know of my curse. I killed the Briton, and I fought on with the haunting knowledge that the man had left behind a successful business and a beautiful family.
My name is Oliver Hammond, and I have been bewitched since the dawn of America's revolution: my mere touch brings death, while I experience my victim's memories. It was a power I despised with all of my heart, for the very essence of war became a living hell, a power which my commanders found disgustingly useful.
“Hammond!” My name was barked from across the camp; I recognized the voice immediately as my superior, Captain Boyce. I swallowed my emotions and stood at attention as the larger man stomped over to me, the scattered foliage crunching underneath his feet as he neared. He did not look me in the eyes, and instead glared intensely at my hurt hand. “Good, they didn't take your whole hand off.” The Captain's voice was unfeeling as he ordered, “have Dr. Youngs look at it, and report back to me as soon as he is done.” “Yes sir,” I flatly replied, my voice void of the roiling emotions stirred up by the Captain's unusual orders. I approached the doctor as I kept asking myself what in heaven's name that domineer could want with an injured man!
“Good to see you walking, Oliver,” Dr. Youngs greeted me with an oddly cheerful voice.“You're always so damned happy, friend. Are you enjoying this?” I teased the man, one of my few confidants in the militia. Much to my surprise, the doctor actually laughed, and teased, “you caught me!”
“Now,” the old doctor continued, “let's take a look at this.” His gloved hands gently peeled away the tourniquet, and he quickly concluded, “you'll be fine. I can treat this.” I sighed, “I guess Boyce is going to get his way.” “Oh, and what's that supposed to mean?” The doctor inquired, his eyebrows raised. “He wants me to report to him after this,” I growled. “That's too bad,” the doctor sympathized, though he still seemed much too cheerful. The doctor then rummaged through supplies before finding a small flask of liquid; it reeked like pig poo poo. “This'll sting,” he warned, handing me a strip of leather to bite.
Just as Dr. Youngs had promised, the foul liquid stung like I had stuck my fist into a hornet's nest, and my teeth clamped down on the leather, its earthy taste filling my mouth as the doctor disinfected my wound before quickly bandaging my hand. The doctor was done with me, and quickly shooed me off, so I stepped away to find the captain.
“...he's a witch, I swear...”
I stopped in my tracks at those words. My eyes found a couple of soldiers taunting a rather crazed prisoner. I crept closer as I listened to them.
“This redcoat is nuts!” “I'm no' crazy! Tha' old man is a witch!” “Oh, shut up already!”
My hair stood on end as a small breeze passed me. It was easy to dismiss the prisoner's crazed words, but the ability to kill someone by touch was equally crazy, and yet I knew it to be all too true. I walked back to the triage area, intent on finding the only old man I had ever seen around here.
I skulked intently as I saw the elderly doctor working on a patient. However, retreated away from the camp as I approached. I growled as I sprinted after him. I could hear Captain Boyce's enraged voice calling out my name, but his shouting became distant as I followed the faint footsteps with what little sunlight remained this summer evening.
I stopped when I came to a clearing; there stood Dr. Youngs, his back away from me. There was suddenly a cold wind that whistled through dense foliage and chilled my veins, and my nostrils were filled with the rotten scent of decay.
“So, you finally found me.”
Gone was his usual humor, and in its stead was a cold, deadly voice.
“I suppose you heard that British fool's squawking about a witch. He's right, but no one except you will ever believe him, and you'll never tell anyone!”
Dr. Youngs turned to me now, though his face now looked older than any man could ever be; a twisted visage that struck terror within me. My heart pounded intensely as I shrieked with rage, "you're the one who did this to me! Why?!”
The doctor merely afforded me a sinister chuckle. “I suppose I can grant you one last request before I kill you.” Dr. Youngs walked towards me slowly, and I could see his eyes gleaming with sadistic intention. “I've been alive many centuries now, my magic unparalleled and unstoppable. Unfortunately, being alive so long can get very dull after some time, so I decided to entertain myself.”
He smiled a crooked grin as he continued, “I decided to start meddling in wars. Heroes and villains became influenced by my spells, giving them inhuman power. I shaped wars and experimented on men for fun.” The evil man lifted a gnarled finger and pointed it at me. “You, Oliver Hammond, American revolutionary, are one of my experiments. You had the power to sway battles by yourself, and I was going to enjoy watching the ensuing chaos and watching you suffer through the memories of each enemy you killed. Unfortunately, you've disappointed me,” the warlock sighed with resignation, “so I'll just have to find someone else!”
My bellow of rage was lost on the powerful wind as I rushed forward. The next thing I knew, I felt like I had been struck by lightning. I only felt searing pain as my nostrils were filled with the sickening stench of my own burnt flesh. Then, the man I had once respected towered over me. “This is what you get for defying my power, Oliver.” The witch stated without a shred of remorse as the wind dwindled, just as I was. “You will die here. Farewell.” The wizened man slowly started to walk away from me. As my time and my strength withered away, I pushed past pain and exhaustion to grab something out of my pocket. No one, not even the so called “Dr. Youngs” had known that I had kept my severed finger after the battle. With my remaining strength, I hurled the finger at the back of the wicked man's head. Almost instantly, the wretch shrieked, done in by his own spell. It was then that I saw the centuries flash before me, and I experienced many horrible wars before my fading consciousness returned to reality. I choked out a bitter laugh, and the taste of my own blood filled my mouth as my world faded to black. Although I was dying, I prided myself with the knowledge that my death wasn't in vain, for now the world was free from his spell. I breathed my final breath, joyful that I, too, was finally free.
|# ¿ May 3, 2015 19:46|
|# ¿ May 5, 2015 03:21|
I'm claiming Knez - Adio (Montenegro) for myself
|# ¿ May 5, 2015 03:28|
They're open until Friday! Random song assignments will be given out starting on Thursday. 'Til then, kick back and enjoy some Eurovision classics.
Lordi is a poor man's Gwar.
I haven't watched much Eurovision (too poppy for the most part), but I'm still pretty fond of 2007's winner
Also, I'm totally tooting my own horn here, but, unlike last week, I'm already on a full second draft of my entry!
|# ¿ May 6, 2015 01:13|
I awoke on a Saturday morning to the sound of goats bleating from the barn, begging to be fed. “Who needs alarms when you have hungry goats?” I mused as I rolled out of bed. I changed into an old shirt and jeans before I went to the barn. It was rather early; the sky was still a dark purple with merely the faintest light peeking over the mountains.
Today seemed no different than any other morning for me, except for one thing: I would be taking a trip to the mountains. I baby talked the goats as I fed them. “Good morning, Sylvia! Are you getting along with Sam? And hello, little Timmy. You are such an adorable kid! You're such a good momma, Cleo! Watch out, Brian! Gotta get you fed so I can go!”
The goats' appetites sated, I hurried inside and prepared for my trip to visit the meadow that had been my mother's sanctuary. My only passenger this day would be her old Stradivarius violin.
”See how I've placed the violin on my shoulder, Jessica?” Mother asked as she prepared to play, her only audience being me and the oak tree we were nestled up against.
She smiled softly at me, “good, now, show me what I just showed you.” With that, she handed the violin over to me. I was almost too nervous to take it, as I feared breaking the precious instrument, but I swallowed my nerves and grasped the violin as mother had, placing it on my shoulder as if to play.
“Very good, now, pull your bow across the strings like this,” she explained as she pantomimed the motion of playing. I took the bow and did as instructed, and was rewarded with the sweet sound of a musical note.
“Mother! I did it!” I reveled, my happiness unfettered at my success. I felt like I had just won a gold medal at the Olympics.
“Well done, Jessica!”
My hometown grew distant as my old truck struggled up the hill. I drove in silence for a half hour as I thought about the times my mother had taken me to the meadow and the violin lessons she had given me there. This was the first time I would be there by myself, as I had lost my mother to a car accident just two months ago. I had felt truly alone ever since, as it felt like the goats understood me better than the townsfolk. I had always been an eccentric soul, and I was certain most of the people here looked down on me for being “weird”.
The drive felt longer than it actually was, but I eventually arrived. I pulled the truck over to the side of the road, and it sputtered with relief when I turned off the motor and got out, violin case in hand.
I walked down a path that led to a small creek. Even though my heart still ached from loss, I marveled at nature's beauty. I sighed and I sat down under that oak tree and listened to the creek's peaceful babbling.
I started to play once nature had soothed some of the hurt I was feeling. My hands crafted a beautiful song, the very first one I had been able to play on my own. I sniffled and whimpered as I yearned for the past and grieved for my mother.
“Don’t cry, my daughter,” my violin seemed to sing to me.
I gasped at the ethereal voice. “Mother, is that you?”
“Yes, my dear Jessica.” The violin spoke again.
I was stunned into silence. Was this really happening, or was I just hallucinating?
When I could think to speak again, my words flowed like a turbulent river. “Oh mother, I’m so lost without you! I just don’t feel like I belong here, but I don’t want to abandon your farm! Please tell me what I’m supposed to do! I miss you so much.”
The strings sighed. “I cannot say.”
“I cannot make that decision for you. You, and only you, have the power to make that decision.”
I cried, “but I don’t know if I can!”
“I know you can, my child. You have a strong mind and a stronger heart. Give it a little more time, and all will be clear. I have faith in you.”
“Of course I do! And don’t worry about little old me. No matter what you do, I will always be proud of you.”
I sniffed, and managed a small smile. “Mother… thank you… for believing in me.” I sighed, “I never got to say goodbye, but I guess now I can. Good bye, mother. I love you.”
“I love you too, always. Until we meet again, farewell.”
The song ended and the violin ceased to sing my mother’s voice. I sobbed from the intensity of the experience until my body ached with grief. Once I could cry no more, I trudged back to the truck and returned home.
Throughout the day, the experience repeated itself in my mind as I struggled to figure out what it meant. I was unusually silent as I fed the goats that evening, too distracted by my thoughts. Had I really spoken to mother, or had my mind played a trick on me? Even my dreams that night were dominated by what had transpired, and I woke the next morning with my mother's lingering voice whispering in my head. I shopped for groceries after feeding the goats, and, while I was there, I picked up a “houses for sale” magazine in the hopes I could find a new place that spoke to me.
Three days later, I went to Tina’s Cafe for breakfast, as I did every Wednesday. “Greetings, Miss Williamson!” Came the usual cheerful greeting from the server, a stout young man named Nicholas. “Feel free to sit wherever you like!” I faked a smile and quietly took a seat at the counter. “Would you like your usual, ma’am?” He asked me, and I merely nodded my head in response. I flipped through the pages of my magazine while I waited for my meal, my eyes glazed over with wanderlust as I looked at the beautiful houses inside.
“Thinking of moving?”
Surprised, I looked up, and saw an old cattle rancher I recognized from the weekly farmer’s market eating a couple seats away from me. “Oh, hello Mr. Adkins. I didn’t see you there. I guess you could say that. I don’t think I belong here.”
The older gentleman frowned. “Oh, that’s too bad. We’d miss you.”
I gasped, surprised. “You would?”
“Of course! You don’t believe me?”
I slowly shook my head as Nicholas returned, my food in hand, and spoke to me, having overheard the conversation.
“Aww, don’t tell me you’re moving, Miss Williamson! That’d be sad,” the server pled as an older woman chimed in, “your goats make the best milk in town! I can’t imagine living without it!” By now, half of the diners were paying attention, and some of them nodded in agreement. I fell silent as I ate my meal, my mind ablaze as I recalled mother’s words. Had I really been wrong about not belonging here?
“Would you like some more coffee?” Nicholas inquired as I finished my meal.
“No, thank you,” I responded with a polite smile. “But I would like a favor.” I held the magazine out for him to take. “I don’t think I’ll be needing this anymore, can you throw it away for me?”
Nicholas smiled widely, happy with the knowledge that I would be staying. “Certainly, Miss Williamson!”
I paid for my meal, and I could have sworn that everything looked brighter than it had in recent memory.
I returned home that morning with a renewed sense of purpose and the knowledge that I had made the right decision. Mother would be proud.
|# ¿ May 10, 2015 17:09|
Thanks for the crits! I think I'm learning a lot even though this is only my second TD.
|# ¿ May 12, 2015 04:09|
“Authorization required for entry onto Martian surface.”
Howard finagled with his lanyard to find his scientist badge while his two researcher cohorts tapped their feet impatiently behind him.
“C’mon Howie,” said one, a taller woman named Crissy. “Hurry the gently caress up so we can see our plants.”
“Dead plants, you mean,” came the rather pessimistic quip from the other, a man named David. “I’d put my money on nitrogen deprivation.”
“Stop being so pessimistic, David,” Howard said.
David merely rolled his eyes and said, “I’m still not convinced anyone’s gonna figure out how to grow plants in Martian soil, no matter how much money the idiots back on Earth throw at this contest.”
Crissy growled at David. “But what if you’re wrong and we miss out on the prize just because we have up too soon?”
“Stop bickering,” Howard said as he held up his badge to the panel. A red light bathed all three of them as the computer did its work.
“Identifying… confirming… greetings, Dr. Howard Samuelson, Dr. Crissy Wenton, and Dr. David Spatsky, of Mars Terra Colony 3. Your clearance is approved. Your suits are ready inside this airlock.”
Howard, Crissy, and David walked through the door into the airlock, which quickly shut behind them once they had cleared. As they suited up, Crissy spoke.
“Y’know, we’ve been at this for a while, but I’ve never asked you two fellas what you’d do if we won this contest.”
Howard smiled. “I’d tell them to send it to my wife and kids back home. I’m sure they could use it.”
“Well aren’t you a loving white knight,” David said, scowling, “but it’s never going to happen.”
“Then why do you even bother trying to help us?” Crissy retorted.
David sighed, though his demeanor softened. “I’ve been friends with you two fuckers forever, and I wasn’t going to let you do this crazy poo poo alone.”
Suited up, the three scientists stepped out onto the Martian surface. Their experimental plot was only a couple hundred feet from the entrance, so it did not take them long at all to see the disappointment of their most recent transplants wilted.
“See, told you.”
“Shut the gently caress up, David,” Howie said as he examined the plot. David harumphed and stuck a measuring device into the soil.
“Well, this last effort of incorporating organic material seems to have raised the nitrogen level slightly, so I guess that’s something?” David said with a noncommittal shrug. “You know, I may have an idea here.”
Howard was surprised. “Really? And you’re usually such a spoilsport. Do tell.”
|# ¿ May 14, 2015 21:08|
12:06 AM: <TDbot> beginning: Blue Wher, ending: Djeser
One person (first come, first serve) may take Tyran's opening, and stick him with the opening they were assigned.
Haha, low blow.
|# ¿ May 16, 2015 12:57|
Azari wanted nobody and anybody all at once.
He lived in a desert village, where it only rained twice a year and the nearest market was a day’s journey. Every day, the villagers had to sweep back the dunes of charred sand from where they had encroached overnight, flowing over the village walls and through the streets.
Every morning, Azari sat against the front wall of his hut and watched the village women beat and sweep and scatter the sand away with thick straw mats, while he loudly commented to anyone who would listen.
“That Neysa over there,” he’d say, “she’d make a fine wife were it not for that limp. How can a woman take care of a child when she can’t even stand up straight, I ask you? And Ori, you see her, so many spots on her chest and back. Too much time spent playing out in the sun, making kissy-faces at the other boys while the heat dried her skin out like an elephant’s hide. The sun makes wild beasts of them all…” On and on he went, about this woman’s palsy and this woman’s blemish, while constantly pounding a lump of clay in his hands, clay dredged from the bottom of the town’s massive well. Pounding and folding and crumpling.
Yet at night, inside his hut, he prayed to the gods to deliver to him the perfect wife. Azari saw what was left of his vitality disappearing little by little, and out of desperation, he prayed for companionship.
One night, as Azari finished his prayer, he felt a cold breath whisper against his ear. “I’m not a god,” he heard. “But I can help.”
The room suddenly became freezing cold, colder than Azari had ever imagined. Azari clasped his arms around his chest. “Who are you?” he shouted.
“Look,” the voice said. “There.”
Azari looked, then saw.
At the far end of his room was a circular column, a head taller than him and three feet wide. It was made of…something solid, whitish, almost clear but not quite. Azari reached out to touch it, then drew his hand back quickly from the chill it sent through his fingertips. “What is it?”
“Ice,” the voice said. “It won’t melt. Not without fire.”
“What am I supposed to do?” said Azari into the darkness.
“Use the fire to create her,” the voice said. “You are a sculptor at heart.”
Azari felt desert heat rush back into the room. He stood still, watching the column of ice.
Quickly, he grabbed a stick and ran out to one of the oil lanterns outside. He sheltered the burning twig as he re-entered his hut.
Carefully, he held the flame up to the side of the cylinder, and watched as a small patch of ice melted and dripped down the side.
Azari stopped. He thought he had heard something, like a muffled cry—but when he listened again, the wind fell voiceless upon his ears.
“Don’t worry. Let your hands guide you.”
Azari looked down at his hands and the flame, baffled. “Am I dreaming?” He asked the voice, but this time it did not respond. Azari was alone.
His brow furrowed with concentration as he held the flame to the ice. He heard another muffled cry, and this time he knew that the ice had made that sound. He hesitated, worried that he was hurting another being.
But there was no use in stopping now. Imagining the perfect woman, Azari started his work. He melted ice until a feminine face appeared. As he toiled, he felt as if he were crafting by instinct, like his hands had taken over all thought. Though the night wore on, Azari did not tire. He would not rest until he could share his bed with the perfect woman of his creation. Arms, torso, legs, and feet all took shape underneath the fire.
Azari finished his work as the first shafts of light peeked over the horizon and infiltrated his hut. For the first time, he could see his creation in the light of the hot desert sun.
He despaired. “She’s so ugly!” Azari exclaimed disgustedly as he examined the woman. Where he had expected a beautiful, feminine face, he instead found a face much too large with a thick snout to boot. The rest of the sculpted body followed, a larger figure that contradicted the thinner, yet vibrant, woman he had envisioned.
“Is she ugly?” The voice spoke on a cold gust that extinguished his flame.
“You lied to me!” Azari accused the voice. “How can this be the perfect woman?”
“She is your perfect woman because she is what your heart desired,” the voice said. “You think you want perfection, but such a thing cannot exist. Your heart desired more than beauty. You will soon realize this, and thank me.”
With a whirlwind of dust, the hot desert air chased away the cold. The woman’s flesh filled with color. She was alive.
Azari was speechless as the woman examined a clay lion he had sculpted. “Did you make this?” Her voice, though quiet, was the most beautiful sound Azari had ever heard.
She smiled and looked to Azari, her eyes like sapphires. “It’s wonderful. Do you think you could show me how you made it?”
He was stunned, and yet he felt complete, for now he had someone to share in the toil of his work. He would be lonely no longer, and that, he realized, was more important than anything else he could have wished for.
Under his breath, Azari thanked the ice spirit.
|# ¿ May 17, 2015 20:25|
You should just edit it into your story. I'm judging this week and I say it's alright.
DQ this guy
|# ¿ May 18, 2015 05:02|
but senpai don't double DQ sweet little me. ;_;
|# ¿ May 18, 2015 05:17|
In with a flash rule1
|# ¿ May 19, 2015 17:27|
The Zurich Teleportation Caper
“What could Dr. Appleby want with me?” Mitzi Auer grumbled to herself as she walked through the University of Zurich. She kept her head down and ignored the rude stares and comments thrown at the “blue-haired punk freak”.
“Nice piercings, I’m sure the professors were so impressed by your thesis defense looking like that,” said a rather snide former classmate, whose name she never cared to remember.
“Shove it,” Mitzi said as she walked past him. She heard the man continue his taunts, but she ignored the buffoon.
She entered the familiar building that housed the offices of the science faculty, and hurried up the stairs as quickly as she could; the less time spent around other people, the better.
Mitzi quickly reached the professor’s office, and was surprised that only a couple of other grad students were hanging around; certainly there had to be more people interested in seeing a Nobel Laureate, right?
Before she could knock on the door, the door opened. “Ah, Mitzi, glad you could make it,” Dr. Appleby said before shooing the other students away from her office. “Come in.”
Mitzi took a seat while the other woman locked the door behind them. There were dragon figurines everywhere. Dr. Appleby grinned, and asked, “like my dragons? They’re but a small sampling of my collection.”
Mitzi shrugged. “Whatever. What do you want with me?” She asked in her thick German accent. “Here to make fun of me like the other professors?”
“No,” Dr. Appleby said as she sat down at her desk. “I called you here because I want to make you an offer.”
Mitzi stared at the older woman, who hardly looked older than herself despite being double her age. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, but I am.” The exalted professor smiled devilishly. “People here respect me, and I can make or break the careers of grad students. You, Mitzi Auer,” she pointed at the younger woman, “are one of the most brilliant students I have ever met.”
“Psh, tell that to the assholes who trashed my thesis.”
Dr. Appleby snorted. “They’re just frightened that some icky girl just outsmarted them on the concept of manipulating wormholes. Unlike them, I know that you’re onto something, and I can give you everything you want to bring your idea to life.”
Mitzi raised an eyebrow. “What’s the catch?”
The professor laughed. “Come with me, I’ll show you.”
Dr. Appleby stood up and laid a table flat on the ground. She stepped on it. “Step on this, and we’ll go.”
Mitzi rolled her eyes, certain that someone here was insane. She stepped on the table, and shrieked when they were propelled out of the office, going up through the ceiling like they were ghosts.
“Don’t be scared, you’re perfectly safe. While on this platform, we are basically ghosts. No one detect us by any means.”
Mitzi gawked as she stared at the ground below her. “How?”
Dr. Appleby chuckled. “I am known as an inventor, and I’ve made a pretty penny with some of my computer patents, but I have inventions that reach far beyond what anyone else on this planet is capable of.”
“And you don’t share them with anyone?” Mitzi asked, incredulous.
“Goodness, no! The world doesn’t deserve my brilliance.”
“What do you mean?”
Dr. Appleby sighed as they flew over the outskirts of Zurich. “I had wanted to help the world advance technologically, and I knew I had the capability to do a lot by myself, so I made wonderful computer components that vastly advanced our technology in a heartbeat, things I wanted used to help people in hospitals and third-world countries. Just like so many inventors before me, I had to watch as every powerful military in the world used my inventions to hurt people.”
“And what does this have to do with me?” Mitzi asked as they approached a small house on a hill.
“Good question. You see, ever since then I’ve been advancing my own technology so that I could have my revenge. Everyone knows of my inventions and my Nobel Prize in Physics.” Her smile became devilish again. “No one knows that I can pretty much make any country bow to my demands. I’ve literally hacked the computers of most countries. They don’t know who I am, as my advanced computers literally go unnoticed in their systems, but I’ve hurt them and bent them to my will on several occasions. Most of these nations are frightened to go to war now because I’ve threatened using their own nukes and weapons against them, and-”
“That’s cool and all, but you didn’t answer my question,” Mitzi said as she tapped her foot.
“All right, fine, I’ll answer your question. I need a partner in crime, and you have an idea that could help me immensely. With your help, I want to build a teleportation device. Computers can only reach so much information, so I want to be able to go anywhere my heart desires and take whatever documents I can find, information I can use to blackmail the assholes who dared abuse my inventions. The CIA in America is a hotbed of papers! So, Mitzi, now that you know everything, are you in?”
Mitzi pondered for a minute as they landed in the middle of some trees. “Yeah, all right, fine,” she said. “I’ll join you. I kinda wanna get back at the man myself.” Mitzi held up her hand in a fist, showing the anarchist tattoo on the back of her hand.
“Excellent. Now, if you’ll follow me, we can begin our work.”
Mitzi smirked as she followed Dr. Appleby underground.
Mitzi and Dr. Appleby stood proudly as they looked at the device that had been they had labored on for the past year. To a pedestrian, it merely looked like a big steel marble, but to the scientists, it was their finest invention.
“This thing looks ready to go. The CIA won’t even see us coming!” Dr. Appleby said as she flipped up a panel and typed something on a keyboard.
“Are we doing this now, then?” Mitzi asked.
“Why waste time? Let’s do this now!”
The two of them touched the sphere as it hummed. The next thing they knew, they were floating in a rather cold ocean.
“What the gently caress?” Mitzi exclaimed as she struggled to tread water.
“I don’t know, I must have hosed up the coding! Don’t worry, I can get us back home!” Dr. Appleby looked around for the sphere, only to realize that it had sunk.
Mitzi couldn’t hold on much longer, and she dropped underneath the surface. She quickly blacked out.
Mitzi was quite surprised when she woke up in a warm blanket. She recognized her surroundings as Dr. Appleby’s lab. “I’m alive?”
“Well, of course you are, silly, I wasn’t just going to leave you for dead in the ocean.” Dr. Appleby said as she stood above her. “I had several devices on me that could save us from just about any error. I was able to catch up with your drowning body and the teleportation device pretty quickly thanks to this.” She held up a little device that looked like a miniature propellor. “And once we got back to the surface, I was able to reprogram the teleportation device and bring us back here.”
“Well that’s neat,” Mitzi said as her still blurry vision caught some large stacks of papers lying not too far from her. “What’s that?”
Dr. Appleby laughed. “After I made sure you were stable here, I went and raided the CIA. You were out for a couple of days.” She walked to one stack of papers. “There’s so much juicy data here I didn’t have before. Now I can really gently caress with the American government, and it’s all thanks to you!”
Mitzi smiled. “Glad I could be a part of this. gently caress authority.”
“gently caress authority indeed.”
|# ¿ May 24, 2015 18:33|
|# ¿ May 26, 2015 04:41|
"Life appears to me too short to be nursing animosity, or registering wrongs." - an idiot
Challenge accepted. We just need a judge now. Oh who, oh who, will judge these lowly, spiteful noobs?
E: As an aside, how can you hate me? That hurts me, I'm at the brick of crying.
|# ¿ May 26, 2015 15:41|
Aww poo poo, pointless gauntlet throwing
All right, fine.
Guts and Bolts can't even use a ladder because it breaks before he even makes it to the second step.
|# ¿ May 26, 2015 16:01|
Blue Wher: "Two houses head off a civil war."
The Gryphon Spell
It wasn’t very often that King Bernan got to have a private lunch with his beloved Queen Sylvia. He was understandably cross when a squire, a young red drake no taller than he was, burst into their dining quarters just as they were being served their meal.
“You’d better have a good excuse for interrupting our meal, lad.”
The drake squeaked and averted his eyes from the King’s glare. “I’m sorry King Bernan, but I have urgent news from the watchtower guard! A dragon from House Trelvinas approaches!”
King Bernan sighed with frustration. “It’s probably a message from Lord Verinas complaining about tithes again. Stubborn wretch,” he said, still glaring at the drake. “Boy, what’s your name?”
“I need you to do two things for me, Belezor. Firstly, I need you to look at me when I’m speaking to you.”
The whelp quickly snapped to attention, though he looked withered from the man’s gaze. “Yes sire.”
“Good. Now, I need you to find Hrokar and tell him to join me in the courtyard to greet our guest. You are dismissed.”
“Yessir!” Belezor wasted no time in skittering away from the King.
Bernan turned to his wife. “I promise we’ll have our meal, my Queen, but for now I have to take care of this business. Please excuse me,” he said as he got out of his seat.
“You are excused, my good sir.”
The King walked the ornate corridors of his castle before entering flower-filled courtyard. He looked to the sky, and indeed saw an admittedly hefty blue dragon clad in the colors of Trelvinas quickly approaching.
“I have a bad feeling about this, m’lord,” said a rather deep voice. A massive black dragon had joined King Bernan in the courtyard.
Hrokar, one of the King’s closest advisors and a powerful mage, stared at the approaching visitor. “I can feel from here that he is spooked.”
The blue dragon descended and landed rather clumsily, tumbling head over tail. It was obvious the pudgy dragon had overworked himself in his rush to get to the castle.
“King Bernan,” he wheezed, “I am… Gertol… I have… an urgent message…”
“Speak, Gertol,” the King said as he tried to dampen his impatience at the winded dragon.
Gertol took a couple more deep breaths before he spoke again. “All of our gryphons left us to join the House of Brivion! We have reason to believe that Lord Trivinnian is trying to recruit all of the gryphons in the land to start a rebellion!”
“What?!” The King was stunned.
“How can you be sure?” Asked Hrokar.
“One of our guards was able to track one of the gryphons down, and she told us of these plans.”
Before King Bernan could press the messenger further, the King saw several gryphons emerge from their dwellings, screeching and flying away. “drat it all! Guards! I need you to search the area for any leftover gryphons! You as well, Hrokar.” The King watched the guardsmen and several dragons scatter at his command. “Gertol, tell your Lord that I require extra troops to help guard the castle and our Kingdom.”
“I will, sir.” The blue dragon took several more deep breaths before he flew away, muttering something under his breath about his weight.
King Bernan grimaced, worried.
The next morning, the King was too nervous to eat a large breakfast, and he quickly abandoned his food to find his lead guards, the green dragon Grozzo and the guardswoman Nelema.
“Grozzo, Nelema, have you found any gryphons?”
Nelema nodded, and said, “Yes sire, but just one.”
“Only one? Did they have anything to say about the others?” The King inquired.
Grozzo shook his head. “No. He seemed confused by their behavior.”
The King rubbed one hand through his beard. “This is very strange.”
“That’s an understatement, m’lord,” Hrokar said as he lumbered over. “I have a hunch, but I’ll need to see the gryphon to be sure.”
Nelema told Hrokar, “I can arrange for that. He’s staying at a guarded cottage not too far from here. Grozzo and I can lead the way.”
“Please do so. Hrokar, I’ll need you to take me there,” the King said.
“At your command, my liege.”
After a short flight, Grozzo and Hrokar landed in a small, sparsely populated village, kneeling down to allow their respective passengers to dismount in front of a large cottage made for a gryphon or small dragon.
“Greetings, King Bernan!” Both of the guards said with a salute of their wings. One guard then approached the King, and said, “The gryphon Nethlinus is still inside, if you wish to speak with him.”
“Can you bring him outside?” Hrokar asked. The King was visibly surprised at his dragon’s request, though he did not protest.
Soon, Nethlinus, a bright yellow gryphon, walked out. “It is good to see you, King Bernan. What can I do for you?”
Hrokar closely inspected the gryphon, who wore a pendant. “Nethlinus, what is that pendant made out of?”
The gryphon hesitated, confused. “It’s quartz from Trelvinas lands.”
“Can I see it?” Hrokar asked.
Nethlinus took off the pendant and handed it to Hrokar. The gryphon suddenly shrieked “Down with Bernan!” at the top of his lungs, and prepared to fly off, but Grozzo pinned him to the ground before he could. Hrokar quickly put the pendant back in its place, and Nethlinus stopped thrashing.
“Ugh… what happened?” Asked the dazed gryphon.
“It’s as I suspected. Trivinnian broadcasted a magic spell to control all the gryphons in the land, but his magic is negated by quartz,” Hrokar explained.
“Why is that?” Asked the King.
“Well, no magic is perfect, and many spells that are used to effect other beings are easily negated by certain materials,” Hrokar said.
King Bernan nodded. “Most of the quartz comes from Trelvinas. It looks like we’ll have to visit Verinas.” He looked to his companions. “Let’s get going.”
“So the quartz negates the mind control spell? I see,” Lord Verinas said. “There are quartz mines near here, and I’ll let you take as much as you need, on one condition.”
King Bernan glared at Verinas. “Our tithes are already set in stone. Besides, Trivinnian’s actions threaten your lands as well as mine!”
Lord Verinas grimaced, but before he could retort, Gertol crash landed in the courtyard, ichor oozing from several fresh wounds. “The gryphons are on their way here! They attacked me while delivering a message to one of our villages.”
Verinas growled under his breath as he commanded a dragon take the chubby blue dragon to the infirmary. He then turned to King Bernan. “If you fly southwest from here for five minutes, you’ll arrive at the quartz mine. Take what you need,” Lord Verinas said, resigned. “You’d better be right about this.”
King Bernan clutched his straps Hrokar flew with breakneck speed towards the mines.
“The mines are near,” Hrokar said.
“How are we going to get the quartz?” Asked the King.
“Well,” Hrokar replied, “There should be some piles of loose quartz there. I’ll be able to grab enough in my claws for my spell.”
“Yes, because throwing the quartz at them isn’t going to be enough,” Hrokar said before warning, “I’m going in! Hold on tight!”
The descent was quick enough that King Bernan squeezed his eyes shut out of fear. Hrokar broke out of his dive and quickly rose again with such speed that his passenger had to steel himself so he didn’t hurl. “Are you okay, m’lord?” The dragon asked as he steered back the way they came.
“I’ll be fine. Let’s hurry back.”
The brainwashed gryphons were already on the horizon when Bernan and Hrokar flew over Verinas’ castle.
“Do you want me to drop you off down there, sire?” Hrokar asked.
“No,” said the King, “I trust you enough to keep me safe.”
“I am honored,” Hrokar said as he flew towards the gryphons head on.
Hrokar chanted as the gryphons drew closer. The King thought that the gryphons were seconds away from shredding him to pieces when Hrokar’s spell was completed, and the gryphons were sprayed with a fine quartz dust.
In unison, the gryphons stumbled midflight, some of them almost falling entirely to the ground as the spell was broken.
King Bernan hollered with triumph. “It worked! Now we just need to find Trivinnian.”
“I got the bastard!”
That shout came from Nethlinus, who was flying towards them with a rather pissed off lord struggling in his grasp.
“Good job, Nethlinus!” King Bernan said. “Go meet up with the guards to dispose of him.”
As Nethlinus followed the order, the King slumped forward in his saddle, exhausted. “When we get home, Hrokar, we’re having a feast to recognize your valiance.”
Ever humble, the dragon smiled. “I am honored to serve you, King Bernan. Thank you.”
|# ¿ Jun 1, 2015 07:42|
[Sounds of a retarded monkey child flailing and flinging its own poop]
oh my god shut up nobody cares
|# ¿ Jun 3, 2015 02:06|
new rule i just made up: if 10 people emptyquote this, benny the snake, the legendary rulebreaker, is banned from entering the thunderdome ever again
|# ¿ Jun 3, 2015 02:14|
Speaking of brawls, this one comes due in less than twenty-four hours.
Is an extension possible? I just haven't been well this past week for various reasons and guts appears to have disappeared into the abyss.
|# ¿ Jun 3, 2015 22:11|
You're drat right.
I haven't even really been online for the past 48 hours or so. Trying to catch up on things now. Sorry for missing, but that seems harsh ;_; Dammit guts
|# ¿ Jun 6, 2015 20:53|
Come on dude, gently caress you. You're lucky you even got mercy, not only did you get your toxx waived but you got an extension and STILL flubbed. I mean, I know I don't have the greatest track record, but at least I always turn loving SOMETHING in.
Sorry. I was just freaking out and overreacted because toxxes fuckin' scare me.
I'm still out of town right now. Can I accept when I return? (which is tomorrow evening, btw)
|# ¿ Jun 7, 2015 15:12|
Come on dude, gently caress you. You're lucky you even got mercy, not only did you get your toxx waived but you got an extension and STILL flubbed. I mean, I know I don't have the greatest track record, but at least I always turn loving SOMETHING in.
Now that I'm home and settled. Bring it.
Week CXLIX: Thrilling Adventure!
In with mando Also Flash me
|# ¿ Jun 10, 2015 02:49|
Sorry for missing my toxx. I've been stressed out as gently caress for a few days and I'm not 100% sure why, but it was enough to keep me from working on my story. I honestly forgot how quickly the deadline was coming up until I was almost asleep last night.
Dunno if I'll be able to afford the right now, so I may be gone a while.
(USER WAS BANNED FOR THIS POST)
|# ¿ Jun 15, 2015 18:55|
I should have never accepted my first brawl! I knew it was a bad idea at the time, even.
God drat I am so frustrated. Sorry.
E: IRC is convincing me to write for this brawl. So I will try to put up something.
Blue Wher fucked around with this message at 19:20 on Jun 15, 2015
|# ¿ Jun 15, 2015 19:16|
Blue Wher vs Skwidmonster Brawl
The young man sighed as he flopped into his chair and opened up his laptop. Just like every other day for the past week, it was going to hit triple digits outside, so he was sure to spend his entire day inside to escape the ridiculous heat.
Check email. Check Facebook. Check various other sites. He repeated these steps several times, entirely stupefied by the internet. It didn’t really matter for the time being, there was really nothing else to do other than to find any way to waste time for the boring, miserable day. Perhaps one day there’d be an opportunity to do something else - preferably getting a job, though all the applications he had sent in seemed to be going nowhere - but for now, he was stuck at home, with usually very little to occupy his time.
It was already past noon when a thought struck him: he was supposed to meet his best friend over an hour ago for brunch! He grabbed his phone, palms sweating, and took called his friend.
“Oh, there you are, Brandon,” came a frustrated voice from the other end of the phone.
“Sorry, Adam,” Brandon said, “I got distracted this morning. Been a bit miserable. Do you still wanna eat and hang out?”
His friend sighed. “I guess we could hang out for a little while. Meet me at the mall ASAP.”
“I’ll be there as fast as I can,” Brandon said. He hung up the phone, and hurried to dress into something decent. He put on plenty of deodorant and baby powder to try and mask the fact that he didn’t shower before he rushed out the door and into his car.
The heat of the car in the sun quickly made him sweat profusely, and it took several minutes of driving for the air conditioner to get up to speed and cool him down. By then, he was already almost at the mall, and he was quickly thrust back into the heat when he got out of his car.
By the time he found Adam in the mall, sweat stained his shirt. “Sorry, I’m here.”
Adam gave him a sad look. “I’m glad you’re here, but I just got a phone call from my sister. I have to go pick her up from the airport. Guess we’ll have to catch up some other time.”
Brandon sighed. “Yeah, sure. Sorry, man. Catch you later.”
Adam left, and Brandon had no desire to stay and look around the mall, so he, too, returned home to sit on the computer to try and dull the sting of disappointment of his ruined day.
|# ¿ Jun 15, 2015 19:37|
INTERPROMPT 2: JUST INSULT SOMEBODY
I received a letter today, though it wasn't like any other letter I had ever received in the mail. For one, the envelope was most certainly autoluminescent. But wait, it gets weirder. Instead of it being put in a mailbox like a normal letter, it dropped from the ceiling and embedded one corner of itself in my desk, like a shuriken. Once I dislodged it, I read it. It said,
Dear [Real life name of SA Forums User Blue Wher redacted for privacy purposes],
You're a buffoon who needs to get their poo poo together. Seriously. I could be, like, an astrophysicist by now if you weren't such a depressed, sad sack but noooooooooooooooo. Instead, I'm working a miserable job at VoidMart. You're capable of better, so get off your lazy rear end and do it.
You 15 years from the moment you read this letter.
P.S. We just discovered how to travel beyond the speed of light, which, if you get off your rear end and go to school, you'll probably be among the scientists who invent it. Lazy rear end.
P.P.S. Time travel causes objects to be covered in luminescent goop. Don't worry, it shouldn't give you cancer or anything.
And all I could think was, 'we invent time travel in the future, so of course what I do with it is to yell at my past self.' I was not surprised by this, as I've always been my own worst critic. I crumpled the letter and put it in a dresser drawer before I returned to what I was doing before: dicking around on the internet.
|# ¿ Jul 6, 2015 16:41|
In with a flash rule pls
|# ¿ Jul 7, 2015 18:02|
Thanks for the earworm
|# ¿ Jul 7, 2015 18:05|
Oops, I literally forgot I had signed up for this previous week.
|# ¿ Jul 13, 2015 16:46|
|# ¿ Dec 3, 2022 16:34|
INTERPROMPT: WHAT IS THE HAPPIEST THING YOU KNOW
Cute kitten videos on Youtube.
LOOKIT THE FLUFFY KITTY
|# ¿ Jul 14, 2015 17:14|