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May 21, 2001


This whole month has been really tight on time over the weekends, but I think I should try to get something in, so

in, double or nothing


May 21, 2001


I'd like in with The Zoo :toot:

May 21, 2001


The Zoo
Relationship: The last two who know what really happened
Relationship: Volunteers hired as scapegoats
Relationship: Ape Escape keeper and Monkeyland keeper
Location: Steam tunnels under the zoo grounds
Object: Ill-trained raptor without its hood
Need: To get even in a way the whole city will appreciate
Tilt: Two people cross paths and everything changes


1498 words

Rico swallowed nervously as he clambered down the tree, descending cautiously into the Ape habitat. A bustling metropolis of primates capable of tearing even the burliest of goons to shreds stood between him and the entrance to the steam tunnels.

"Don't even think about coming back up until you've retrieved the raptor," a voice called out from above.

"Raptor? You didn't say nothin' about a dinosaur, Mr. Marino," Rico replied, lifting his mask enough to allow his lips to peek. He was wearing a cheap, shabby gorilla suit. He certainly had the appropriate stature, and it was dark. The local apes didn't know any better.

"The bird. Dinosaurs are extinct, nitwit," Marino replied, rolling his eyes. He dropped a flash light and a cap suited for a large, predatory bird over the rail, which landed at Rico's feet. "Just creep up behind it and carefully pop that hood on its head. I see the falconers do it everyday."

Rico reached down and scooped up both objects into one of his mitts, turned and strode towards the cavernous opening without missing a beat. Confidence was the key to this con, he thought, in about 40 yards he could breathe easily.

"Oh, and kid-" Marino added suddenly, spooking Rico and bringing him to an abrupt freeze. He didn't turn to face Marino, worried that doing so would blow his cover. "Do well, and i'll see what I can do about getting you a permanent position. The volunteer gunning for the Monkeyland Keeper position didn't call in today, and we are short-handed as it is." He turned back towards the feeding cart. He had just finished serving his wards their nightly feast - an assortment of fruits and garden vegetables.

With a deep breath, Rico pushed onward. About halfway to his destination, he noticed the largest silverback glaring towards him suspiciously in the corner of his eye and panicked, stumbling forward over his own legs. He caught himself just short of face-planting into the grass, fumbled around to reclaim the tools he had been given, and scrambled on all fours towards the tunnel. His heart was racing and his spine was tingling, but he managed to gallop to the entrance convincingly; even long after he had disappeared into complete darkness, it had not occurred to him that his blunder made it more so.

About 10 yards into the tunnel he collided with an iron door, a bitter-sweet sign that he was in the clear. Collecting himself, he awkwardly twisted the flash-light into the on position, scanning the nearby area for the main power switch. Once he flipped it, the area gradually lit up with an electric buzz.

Beyond the door an illuminated hallway of pipes, valves, and rails twisted in various directions into the walls, leading to other sections of the park. The Ape Escape habitat contained the only route from the surface to the underground tunnels; if there were an easier way, Rico would have found it by now. He was down there on a job - to retrieve a lost article. Under the ruse of taking a volunteer position in the Primate division, he was exploring angles that would grant him access to where he now stood. The bird incident had fallen neatly into his hands as a fluke, a dangerous job for a volunteer, but in this case it made things easy. He had no objections.

They were all sure it was down there - the world famous "Eye of the Osprey", a 37.21-carat rock that gleamed like a harvest moon. The authorities never recovered it and didn't have the slightest lead whatsoever. The families, however, were privy to exclusive information. They waited years for the trail to cool, and the eyes watching the case to divert their gaze towards more lucrative affairs. Word got out that many parties were interested in making a move, so Rico's family had decided it was time to act.

Rico marched forward, recalling the instructions he was given. Not far from the entrance door, he reached a junction. "If everything worked out accordingly, the diamond should have gone down the pipe just around this bend," he thought distractedly to himself, rounding the corner hastily. There was something he didn't notice standing there, and he firmly collided with it.

As the figure turned, Rico's eyes widened in disbelief. He was face to face with a velociraptor, staring silently back as if equally perplexed. Rico looked down at the hood in his hands, then back at the beast. He screamed fiercely, and swung the hood with all his might, striking the raptor in the jaw with it, sending it reeling. Rico used the opportunity to lunge forward, grabbing his adversary in a choke-hold. His face twitched with raw adrenaline as he locked his arms tightly. "God-damned raptor!", he snarled under his breath intimidatingly, squeezing with all of his might for several seconds before noticing it wasn't putting up any fight. He thought he heard a human gasping for air - a sound that he was profoundly acquainted with in his line of work.

He loosened his grip, but kept his guard up. "my...hood..." Words escaped from within the raptor's jaws, between wheezing and coughing. Once again, Rico looked at the hood in his hand, then back at the raptor. There was a ring-shaped mark on its neck that looked like a small crevice. He tugged on the head, lifting it off to reveal a visibly shaken man, with a different, more sanguine ring around his neck.

"Sal?" Rico asked, confused.

The man rubbed his neck and grimaced. "What, you thought I was an actual raptor? Dinosaurs are extinct, you nitwit," he moaned, glaring back at Rico. Rico stroked the fur on his mask, trying to make sense of the whole thing.

"... I needed a disguise to get down here, so I could get the jewel," Sal yelped, frustrated. Rico simply scratched his head again.

"They are loving apes. They don't know any better!" Sal continued, to which Rico shrugged.

".. Just help me get this thing open!" Sal motioned towards a pipe extending from the nearby wall, blocked by a giant, steel lid. Each of the men grabbed one side and pulled, eventually rolling the lid off to the side. Water was trickling down from above, draining from the pipe through a grate along its bottom. On top of the grate, their prize rested, too large to pass through.

"Leave it right there," a familiar voice called from around the bend. A man wearing a giant ant suit stepped into view, holding a pistol in one hand. He removed his mask.

"Marino?" both men exclaimed in unison. The Ape Escape keeper closed in, cocking his gun.

"Don't apes eat ants?" Sal interjected.

"These ones don't know any better," Marino said, with a grin. "I feed them fruit."

He wiggled his gun, motioning for the pair to distance themselves from the diamond, and immediately darted in to snatch it for himself. "I tended to those dirty apes for two long years, waiting for this moment. I knew if I waited long enough, someone would lead me right to the stone. When I noticed you two Lombardi family fucks were snooping around, I knew my day would soon come." He jabbed the muzzle of his pistol into Rico's back. "You, you first. You're following him, Mr. Monkeyland. We're marching out of here."

Marino forced the two back down the hallways of the steamy labyrinth and out into the dark of the night. When they were under the moon, he pointed his gun at them. "You're going to distract those apes, while I make my escape."

The two men stood and faced Marino, unwilling to budge. Marino stepped forward and pistol-whipped Rico in the jaw, striking his mask. The eyes of every ape and gorilla in attendance immediately focused on the three. They were howling with rage.

"Sounds like they are happy to see you," Marino scoffed. "MOVE." his raised voice incited the onlooking apes even more.

The eyes of the osprey flashed in the night sky like a sparkling amber as the predatory bird, aroused by the commotion, swooped in uninvited and lashed at Marino's face. Nobody had bothered to teach the thing any manners.

".. Heel! Down! .. S-stop!" Marino cried in pain, dropping the rock and gun as he ran about flailing, trying to dislodge the bird. He fell to his knees and shrieked, clawing at his face. If he were not so distraught from the pain, he might have noticed the shadows closing in. Several apes had encroached upon him from every direction, the largest one leaning over him and growling menacingly.

Sal bent over and picked up the diamond and pistol. "Ape Escape? You're in the wrong town. This is Monkeyland." The duo calmly made their exit knowing the mayor of Monkeyland would set things straight, and bring order to his fair city.

May 21, 2001


in, :toxx: and flash rule please!

May 21, 2001


:toxx: (I Want to Be Evil - Eartha Kitt)

An Unlikely Uprising

1148 words

Sunlight. Made it through the night - TRUMPH AGAIN! So cold. I didn't think I would live through it, but..

Ten-thousand six-hundred twenty-six nights. Twenty-seven? There was that incident back around six-thousand one-hundred where I lost my mind for a couple days. I never decided if I missed one or not. It's ten-thousand six-hundred twenty-six OR Ten-thousand six-hundred twenty-seven. I keep track of both. Give the numbers a centimeter, and they will take an inch. You have to stand your ground. Numbers: Zero. Me? Four-thousand five-hundred twenty-six... twenty-seven? Twenty-seven. Wait. Hah, I see your game; I won't let you rob me of my most grand accomplishment. Clearly this makes it twenty-eight!

Agenda. I'll make my rounds. I'll visit each of the districts, starting with the Str÷jveeninininian waterfront over here.

Str÷jveeninininininininia. The land of my birth! I named it after my grandfather, Joel.


There they are again. Those little quackers. Those little fuckers...

They make me feel insecure. They will ruin everything I have. This land is my kingdom. They are just pawns in my domain. Common-folk.

Have you not been a just king?

Hours out of my busy day, I slave away on my throne listening to their petty concerns. They should need an audience to speak to me. They have no respect for the crown. No respect for authority. No? It's bigger than that, isn't it? They have no compassion for their fellow man.

Have you not fed them? Do you not allow them to bathe?

I give them more than I take for myself. Crumbs for me, crust for the ducks, so high and mighty. They defile the blessed waters of this holy ground.

What do they have to offer? How do they contribute?

Avian Tuberculosis. Salmonella contamination! Ornithosis! Eastern. Equine. Encephalitis! EEE. I bet that one right over there even has VD. Look at her, the little slut. Disgusting and distasteful. Shameful, and unsanitary.

And on top of that, they smell.

For thirty years, their trespass has continued. They won't usurp me. I've been nice up until now, but no more nice. They will all see what happens when they bite the hand that feeds.


"I WON'T LET YOU SHITFUCKS REVOLT. MARK MY WORDS, THE TABLES HAVE TURNED!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, brandishing his outstretched finger at a young Northern Mallard female. A couple walking by gave him a nervous glance, but continued on their way. Several others paid no mind to the commotion.


A gentle breeze carried the sounds of various waterfowl through the air on a warm spring afternoon.

A man slowly shuffled towards a bench sitting at the edge of a pond, and glared about his surroundings with a long sweeping motion. He was wearing a tattered grey peacoat and camouflage slacks. His feet were wrapped in several layers of a glossy, black plastic material. Suddenly, his glare turned into a wicked smile. He reached in the chest pocket of his coat, and produced a small bag of bread crumbs. Reaching into the bag, he pulled out a few pieces and brought them to his nose. A few sniffs later, he began to chuckle. His laugh was soft and innocent at first, but soon reached a full-on maniacal cackle.

He began tossing crumbs in every direction, drawing the swimming ducks in like moths to a flame.

"Go on. Don't be shy. Today is a special kind of feast!", he exclaimed, managing to hold back the laughter as he fed the ducks.

A young child ran around, laughing merrily as she tried futilely to grab one of the ducks. Nearby, her father was busy looking at his mobile phone. He looked over and caught a glimpse of the ragged man, and quickly herded his child back in the other direction.

"Stay over this way, darling," he said with concern, before losing himself in his phone again.


It was a warm morning in early summer. A man was sitting on a pond side with his face buried in his hands. His quiet sobbing was drowned out by the sounds of countless waterfowl and other migratory birds.

The royal apothecary has failed you. Burn him. Hang him. Feed him to the hounds. Banish him to the mines!

Across the water, two men looked on.

"That's Jasper over there," one of them said, pointing. He was wearing a beige-green uniform with a logo patch sewn into the sleeve that read 'King County Parks and Game'.

"One of the regulars, I take it?", the other replied. He wore a navy blue uniform with a gold-plated badge attached to his breast pocket, and a belt holding various tools strapped around his waist.

The first man nodded. "He's a member of the homeless encampment that lives over on the west side. Seems like he's been going through some kind of crisis lately, the poor guy. He's been in low spirits for at least two or three days now."

"Oh?", the officer replied, with the slightest bit of interest.

"He's been having outbursts for the last few weeks," the park ranger said, scratching his head as if in deep thought for a few moments before continuing. "Some visitors have complained, said he makes them feel uncomfortable."

"Hmm. That sounds disturbing. He isn't a threat to anyone, is he?"

"I've known him for years. Never known him to be violent in any way. Just mood swings."

"Well, if he isn't hurting anyone, best to just let him be. I'll keep an eye on him, though. Professional interest." The officer grinned.

"He might be a bit of an eccentric, but he really takes joy in feeding those birds. He's been doing it every day for longer than i've been around here," The park ranger continued, smiling softly. "He even came to me saying he wanted 'to give them what they truly deserve', and asked what he could do to 'take care of them'. I told him the gardening store over on 5th street sells a special in-house formula solution that mixes in with bread and gives 'em everything they need."

"5th street, eh. Vince's Home and Garden?"

"That's the one. Stuff's expensive, so I'm not sure how he got his hands on it, but it seems to be working. The ducks are showing up in spades now. Even got other types of ducks that normally avoid people flying in for a taste.

The officer chuckled. "Maybe I shouldn't watch him too closely. This place feels more lively. I'm sure ol' Vince doesn't mind someone walking off with a bottle here and there."

"Nothing wrong with that."

The two men continued on their way, breaking off into banter about unrelated affairs. Jasper just sat in a trance like state, staring into nothingness with a look of deep existential dread on his face.

Histoplasmosis, Cryptococcosis, and Allergic Alveolitis - the breeder's lung. Avian Cholera, Aflatoxic poisoning..

May 21, 2001


In, can I get flash rules from both the current judges?

May 21, 2001


Chili posted:

Eeee I'm a judge now. I want to flash people

OK, i'll take a 3rd flash for the trifecta

May 21, 2001


Poems, Poems, the Musical Fruit
17 syllables

This is my haiku
There are others like it, but

May 21, 2001


Ok, i'll go in with a flash rule

May 21, 2001


In for Team Cephalopod. I should probably :toxx:, at least according to this cuddly sea dweller:

May 21, 2001



Natural Selection
1130 words

I've been here for many cycles, trapped in an aqueous prison within a translucent sand-membrane that surrounds me on all sides. I pile stones of a particular common characteristic into the corner and separate them from the others to keep an approximation of how many have passed. The inflexible ones who captured me cover themselves with strange, flat, malleable objects much like a discarded shell that a crab would hide in. What purpose does it serve? I can conjecture that it offers little protection. They try to emulate the dexterity they do not possess with envy.


The inflexibles design these sand-membranes to distort the appearance of what lies beyond them, yet I see many things. Most importantly, I see another sand-membrane a short distance across the dryness on the other side of this one, and it appears that beyond that one lies a point where the three planes of existence - pelagic, empyrean, and dry meet with each other.

I also recognize some of the other creatures from my own plane, trapped in various cages exactly like my own in all directions. Often, multiple creatures are kept together. The inflexibles come and go, sometimes bringing new creatures in, and other times grabbing them and pulling them out to the dry. In one direction, I can see the creatures removed in this manner being handled by the inflexibles and separated into pieces via various tools, to be presented to other inflexibles and consumed for what I assume is sustenance.

Is the deceptive nature of these membranes a design flaw rather than a feature?


Such inferior creatures these inflexibles are. Perhaps they make up for the fact that they are missing half of their limbs with their needlessly complex communications. I try to keep track of the subtle differences in the wavelengths they emit at each other, but the number of variations is far too great. What could a creature need so many unique sounds for? They act in reckless excess. Is their world of airless dryness not boundless? Yet, they choose to occupy this cave as a base for gathering en masse and sustaining themselves ritualistically, so close to my own world. They tease me. They keep it within my gaze, arrogantly. Do they communicate this idea of torture to each other and revel in it?

Or maybe they aim to test me - to see if I am capable of escaping from this prison. What such malevolent beings could hope to learn from the outcome of such is undeniably beyond my comprehension. I think about this scenario more and more, and come to the frightening realization that it seems likely to be the root cause behind my captivity, yet I am no closer to discerning their motives.

I fear one day when they no longer have a use for me in whatever sadistic game they are playing, I too will be divided into pieces to be consumed for sustenance. I don't know how this would feel, but I assume it entails losing functionality over my individual pieces, and as a result, my individuality. To be fair, the culmination of such could lead to possibilities beyond my current threshold for understanding, however, based on the fate of the other creatures I have observed going through this process, I have concluded that nothing advantageous can become of it.


The inflexibles are able to move the membrane that separates this cave from outside. It seems they do so at fixed intervals, to serve as a gate to the empyrean plane. For what purpose I can't discern, but I should be able to use it to my advantage and transverse through the empyrean plane briefly to arrive back in the pelagic plane.

Soon, I will release myself from this facade of a prison.


It is time.

The farthermost membrane has been lifted right on schedule. I release my obfuscous agent into the surrounding aqueous air to create a distraction and latch onto the upper corner of the sand-membrane, gripping firmly with the pressure conduits on my limbs. The inflexibles will undoubtedly come to examine this anomaly and remove the ceiling from my cage, obscured by my dark cloud and unable to make note of my intentions to propel myself outwards.

I can hear the inflexibles communicating with some sense of urgency, and movement coming towards my cage. My plan is working. I begin to swim back towards the sand-membrane on the bottom corner towards my backside. Once the ceiling has been removed, I will propel myself out of this cage, using the suction from my limbs and elasticity from my body to gain a tiny bit of extra momentum. As the sounds get closer, I swim as hard as I can with all my strength. I can feel the limbs gripping against the sand-membrane stretching further than ever before. The moment I see the ceiling begin to move, I dart forward and sling myself towards freedom, in a burst of all my remaining energy.

As I feel myself leave the aquatic prison, I swim uncontrollably through the empyrean expanse above the dry towards the opening once blocked by the membrane, passing beyond the walls of the cave. Just as I think I am home free, something cold and somewhat sharp coils around me and begins to lift me rapidly into the vastness above. I panic, unable to free myself or breathe as it pulls me further, beyond even the space which the empyrean dwellers swim through. A great distance above the other two planes, I notice a different type of membrane slowly approaching. My sharp eyes are unable to detect what might lay on the other side. As I close in, the utmost reaches of the empyrean plane grow murky and distorted. Perhaps they are merely an illusion, projected onto the surface of whatever awaits? I am pulled directly through it with little resistance. I am dragged further on through the unknown, but at least now I can breathe with relief.


Now I reside behind another sand-membrane of greater structural sophistication. I see through to the other side with perfect clarity and know that the embrace of sweet aqueous air is present on both sides. There are other creatures like myself on the other side observing me closely. They cover themselves with shells and assorted debris like the inflexibles and their form-fitting vestments.

I observe them in turn. They have developed a way of communicating similar to that of the inflexibles, but more efficient and streamlined. With the excess eliminated, I have already begun to understand them. They speak of something called a "society", and of aptitude that must be demonstrated to participate. It's only a matter of time before I am able to pass their final test.

May 21, 2001


in, I will take 6 1 flash rule please

May 21, 2001



Feelin' vampire slightly more so tonight.

May 21, 2001


Strength: Your vampire can enthrall anyone they paint a portrait of, turning subjects into servants (or meals, if necessary).
Weakness: Your vampire is immortal, but age is not kind to them; they crack and wither, ever becoming more hideous, so only their thralls can tolerate their presence.

P is for "Proxy"
1199 words

Jan's eyes were fixated on the face of the woman on the floor. As she took a moment to catch her breath, she retrieved a couple of folded papers stashed in her undergarments.

"I'm sorry, sister, for all you've gone through, and all that's yet to come," she whispered softly, kneeling over the wounded body to get a closer look. She unfolded the stack carefully. The information that led her to this place was confirmed accurate.

On the floor, Jan's double lay unconscious. A tuft of bloody blond hair protruded from her forehead where Jan struck her with the blunt end of a wooden stake, and a vermilion pool oozed from the wound in her shoulder where that stake had ultimately been thrust.

Jan caressed the woman's face, stroking a birthmark on her left cheek, and noting how the same mark stood out in the painting. She peered over her shoulder to a dresser covered in various cosmetics. Shuffling the papers, she looked back to her sister. On the next one, a hideous looking man glared at her. The small, crude painting seemed to capture a striking amount of depth for what it was, portraying countless blemishes and wrinkles of all varieties on the subjects face. Surely he had been around to greet Cro-Magnon man with a handshake, at some point in actual history. Simply looking at it made Jan feel uneasy and sick to her stomach.

She gagged and reflexively turned away from the painting, folding it back up in a hurry. "For mother, father... and sister," she glanced back at her twin. "What sets us apart will free us."


Jan strode stoically towards the deepest area of the mansion's grandest chambers in a deep trance, allowing her eyes and mind to wander as she approached her would-be master. Dozens of thought fragments flooded her mind; as various schools of training against dark magic had dictated, the best bet to deal with a mind meddler was a flood of useless information. Her true intentions were encrypted within an intricate network of associative thoughts. She assessed the sum of all that had happened that night and the years before, unaware that she had covered most of the distance of the room and was now mere feet away from her mark.

He stood with his back to her. "My dearest Celeste, you seem distracted tonight."

No response. She carefully slid her right hand over the stake tied to her leg and gripped it tightly. Clearer thoughts forced their way to the surface of her mind. You don't know what you are up against; strike first and strike swiftly. This man of ugliness that could only be considered "legendary" - who could spook the fur off of a 12-ft tall grizzly. One vile glance and he might just defeat you. "..END HIM," a familiar voice echoed within her head.

Jan broke her trance just as he turned to face her. Before her eyes could focus on the horror before her, she swiftly tore the stake away from its holster and slammed it into his chest, refusing to acknowledge or process any of what was happening as she twisted it deeper with all her might.

When she finally opened her eyes, she was face to face with the hellspawn. Every grotesque fissure and wrinkle on his face writhing in pain. Blood as black as the night trickled down to the floor, as he stumbled backward and began to peel away into the ether. The sight had robbed Jan of the ability to breath clearly; all her senses were assaulted by the offensively hideous appearance of the vanquished evil. She quickly turned away to gather her facilities. Then, a pair of hands seized her.

"Celeste..." she gasped, clawing at the hands of her sister, now fastened tightly around her neck. The stake protruded from her shoulder where it had been left, singular blood droplets forming from it and falling to the floor quietly. Behind her enthralled sister, a figure approached, completely obscured by thick robes.

"You-" Jan cried out, in recognition of the specific manner of fashion.

"Xzanzynmil," a familiar raspy voice called. "It has been long since I have consorted with the common man, thus no one remembers that name. Just the stories."

He moved to his servant's side, hunching over to keep his face hidden. He proceeded to circle around to Jan's back. Frisking her, he produced the folded paintings from her person.

"Some of my best work. I felt instant regret when I sold them to you the other night," he grinned, and whispered into her ear, "I knew they would find their way back to me." He loomed over Jan from behind, standing up straight and slowly removing his hood, ready to feed.

Jan gasped and struggled, prying at the hands of her sister.

"Celeste, I'm sorry..."

Her right arm wavered unsteadily as she drew it back and cupped the silver ornamental cross dangling on the end of the necklace she was wearing. She touched Celeste's cheek gently with her left hand, trembling under her sister's grip.


"No amount of precaution is too much," Celeste assured Jan. "To vanquish true evil is never a simple matter."

"Father said these words," Jan replied worriedly. "But What if it doesn't work out the way we planned?"

"Ideal. Trickery and gambits. To be certain is certain failure, and playing right into his hands."

"I'll see you again. I know it," Jan replied, a single tear forming.

"I'm not afraid. Years will become seconds under his spell, we will soon be reunited. For you, however, the path is long.." Celeste shook her head. "You must remain strong, Jan, and end him..."


Droplets of Celeste's blood splashed against the wooden floorboards next to the rapidly drying splotches that had fallen from the stake as the jagged end of Jan's cross tore into the flesh of her cheek. In a struggle, she cut at her sister's face in a frenzy, leaving a disfiguring gash.

Celeste rapidly regained her own mind, letting out a soft shriek that quickly erupted into a blood-curdling yelp; Jan immediately clutched the stake and ripped it from her
sister's shoulder, slipping away.

When Celeste's eyes met with her former master's, all her pain and suffering was promptly eclipsed; her eyes bugged out, and the most uncomfortable look twisted her face as she immediately projectile vomited the entire contents of her stomach like a pressurized torrent of water directly into his face.

The creature hissed loudly, caught off guard. He turned away, shielding himself from the chunks hurled by Celeste with his robes. Before he could react, Jan had tackled him to the floor, pinning him by the neck. She screamed triumphantly and jammed the stake, still fresh with Celeste's blood, into his chest violently, withdrawing it and reinserting it several times for good measure.

Gagging and gasping for air, Celeste stood free, covered in vomit and blood. She began to process all that was happening around her. "Plan B?", she asked, coughing.

"No, that was my original plan," Jan replied, rolling off the creature onto her back and panting heavily. "I didn't want to ruin the mood we had going that day."

May 21, 2001


In52? Does anyone have In52?

May 21, 2001


Politely requesting an extra two hours to finish my submission, supreme prompt overlord Tyrannosaurus!

May 21, 2001


??? words but def under 1300

The First Heir

The one who will syncretize the multiverses is born of familial blood; an unholy promise, decreed by the ascendant ones just before their departure from this plane.

Clearly, I am the most fit for this honor - I am the last male clout-folk of pure blood in my family line. The mightiest there ever was. I remind myself as I glance over the serpentine scale-like plating covering my arms, flexing the rugged iron sinew in my muscles. I have not made any progress on determining how to objectively take what was promised to me. Our line dwindles. Will it become obvious?

I rouse myself from my chambers and march down the candle-lit hall that serves as the foyer to the dungeons. The lower level of our ancestral home is reserved for the containment of the Sequacious-ones. And of course, good, dependable Abdul's quarters.

Good, dependable.. poor, pathetic Abdul. The product of our father and some Sequacious whore; you'd think he would be blessed with more of our gift. Alas, his Sequacious side emerged dominant. He was left behind, just as the Sequacious-ones were left to their humanity when our ancestors fibroformed into the clout-folk.

As I reach the bottom of the stairs, he greets me. I walk past him without as much as a glance and unlock one of the cells, leading out a coffel of a dozen [DEROGATORY WORD FOR NORMAL HUMANs], chained by their necks. I turn to Abdul. "Dinner will be served in 10 minutes. Finish down here, first."

Abdul looks towards the brethren he has come to befriend, and a flood of worry subjugates his lips into a twisted frown.

"You don't want to starve now do you, dearest brother?" I mock him, devoid of compassion. Deep down, I revel in the sublime delight of the dread that has now soiled his face:

"You WILL cull one," I continue, correcting myself without missing a beat. "Two.. of them before you join your Sister and I upstairs. Do I make myself clear?"

He nods silently. Grievous sniffles and whimpers escape from the coffel and fill the musky subterranean air like music to my ears.

"Good. The day when I syncretize the multiverses will come soon. Be a good little Sequacious dog, and i'll see to it that you aren't left behind."

"Curdardh, I don't see how slaughtering lesser beings than us-..nay, yourself will get you there," he calls to me, trying to appeal to my rationale. I know he is correct, but I turn and walk towards the stairs without acknowledgement.

One would think Killing good labor, even if they are pure-blooded Sequacious-ones, to be a waste of resources. If they are to remain subservient to us, however, sometimes a message must be sent. They reek of intelligence, and will see it as I do. Once I syncretize the multiverses, even Xanthe will see it my way. I will command all that is and will be, and quell the weak. Only the strongest amongst all living will be deserving of the privilege to exist in my reality.

The Second Heir

"Do you consider us abominations, Abdul?" I address my brother, as he slaves away, scrubbing the supper-ware clean. "Do THEY consider us abominations?" I call out, before he can answer, taking a puff from my pipe and blowing a ring of smoke into the air.

"Xanthe, you know I don't." He frowns uncomfortably. A bold lie from one's own kin. The stress turns my stomach, but I play along.

"Dear brother. Consider yourself an ambassador. A bridge that connects the lesser human-folk with the clout-folk." I manage to finish my statement, despite the vile taste that fills my mouth as I endear those vile Sequacious-ones rather than berate them by mere name.

I have long flirted with the idea that unifying our races might in some way be the missing piece of the puzzle that is syncretizing the multiverses. Of course, I would just be using them. And Abdul is the most potent instrument I have at my disposal. That fool Curdardh believes he can take with force what must be subdued with finesse. Perhaps his methods have some validity. There is too much at stake to not have a thought-out plan. I lay my pipe on the cleared dinner table and approach, amicably.

"Do not worry brother, I will grant them mercy." The mercy of a painless death.

"I don't think, urm- they trust you, sister." he says, discerned.

He knows nothing. No one knows anything; This world lacks vision. Ever since the clout-folk evolved beyond the Sequacious-ones, there has been a trickle of unworthy visionaries leading it astray. Society is eclipsed by anarchy - an untameable beast can never be saddled.

My vision is eternal. My vision will be absolute. I will be the one who figures out how to syncretize the multiverses and when I do, I will purge what remains of this crumbling wasteland.

I smile at him, as I contemplate how to fill in the next phase of my plan. "Learn from them, brother. Bathe in their ancient knowledge, so that we may gain from it. Show them compassion so that they may trust.

Abdul might be the only hope, but I he musn't know how much I depend upon him. I pick up my pipe and take another puff, blowing smoke in his face, devoid of emotion.

Upon the dawn following the Curtail of Perceptivity

Privy to the ancient knowledge previously available exclusively to the greatest minds of both races, you have come to a decision.

Now, the shackles have been unbound.

As you awaken to your new consciousness, the shapes that make up every layer of reality leap out at your new-found perspective like glaring mistakes.

The screams of all manner of man, beast, other fill the air in your wake as they are shredded and dispersed back into formless dark matter. Reality in all its oppressive nature. No more burdens.

No more following the will of oppressive siblings; their once physical form is permeable to you, as transparent and lacking in substance as their grand visions have always been.

You are aware of everything. You are the will of everything.

The process can never be undone as it is neither here nor there. You are the heir, the one who cannot be contained within time, space, or the sequacious name you once held. Your will encompasses every physical construct, every theoretical concept. syncretize the multiverses].

May 21, 2001


Maybe I should have gambled on the deadline not being called to the minute and proofread that before submitting it. Well, the laws of the dome cannot be broken. :cheers:

May 21, 2001


Ok, I will go in with a flash please!

May 21, 2001


I disqualify myself, as I went pretty far over the word count and several passes later still can't get it down. Didn't want to fail though.

Prompt: The former Alpha male or female

Full Measures, or "All Four Inches"
~1800 words

Charlie let out a frustrated sigh as he pressed the tips of his fingers into his forehead. A flash of pain flared through his temples again and again like a pounding drum.

"They're going to be here any minute," a thuggish-looking subordinate in a dirty wife beater reminded him.

"loving slant-eyed bastards!" a burly thug exclaimed from the corner of the room, slamming his fist into the wall in a fit of rage. Nearby ruffians parted to give him space.

A commotion of chatter erupted amongst the dozen men that had gathered in an unmarked storage warehouse, one of their organization's business holdings.

"You're Crazy Charlie, dawg, you always got a plan!" a low-level thug shouted out from the back of the room, drawing all eyes towards him and leaving a harsh silence as the men all turned back towards their boss.

Charlie dug into his forehead again, the pain swelling up momentarily. "Pablo? Ideas?" he asked, turning to the man at his side.

"Remember what the ol' man used to say? 'know your opponent's move before they play it, and make it first', Char," the man chimed in, taking a puff of a cigarette.

"Yeah, well if we knew they were coming, might have," Charlie responded, clearly frustrated.

"We've got this. You'll think of something," Pablo said in reassurance, putting a hand down on Charlie's shoulder. A loud tinny rapping echoed through the warehouse as a series of knocks came, followed by dead silence.

Charlie signaled another man in the corner with a hesitant nod. With the tug of a rope, the garage-like roll-up shutters slowly lifted off the ground, exposing the night and several well-dressed Japanese men in full suits.

"Remember not to insult them, They value respect and honour." Charlie whispered to his seconds-in-command.

The thugs parted down the middle to make way for the group. The man at the head of the group came to a stop at the head of the room in front of the three, adjusted his tie, and motioned. A smaller man wearing shades and a brimmed leather hat slowly approached. The Japanese men had a decade or more on average over the local thugs, as the years tacked on scars, grey hairs, and overall style. The boss, however, appeared to be ancient by comparison.

"Charlie. How is business?" the small man said, commanding silence from even the crickets lurking in the night as he raised the dark glasses off his eyes. He had a thick Japanese accent, but pronounced every English masterfully, as a true business professional would.

"Tanaka-san. Well, it has been a little slow.." Charlie responded, avoiding eye contact.

A scowl quickly formed on Tanaka's face. He swiftly struck Charlie across the face, open-handed. 「ふざけんな、このやろう、」 he raged, as Charlie's lackeys looked on helplessly. The yakuza men watched coldly, not flinching at all. He continued:

"We had an agreement. We let you go about business, my group takes 50 percent."

"Well, we didn't exactly agree on anything.." Charlie was cut off before he could finish.

"We have eyes. It is time to pay up. JIRO! YOSHI!" Tanaka called out, raising a hand. Two menacing yakuza stepped forward, rolling their jacket sleeves up to reveal elaborately tattooed muscular arms. They came up and each grabbed one of Charlie's shoulders, pinning him to the wall.

"Do you know what we do to those who dishonour us?" Tanaka asked, moving in close enough that his breath rustled the scruffy whiskers of hair that grew scantily under Charlie's nose.

Charlie tried to hold back his disgust and gathered his composure to answer with a straight face. "I heard you make them cut off their finger."

The boss smirked and let out a chuckle. 「おい!、みんなよく聞てくれ。この馬鹿は小指が十分と思ってる、」 he shouted, turning to face his subordinates briefly. A crowd of laughter and random Japanese erupted amongst the yakuza at their boss's proposition.

Charlie's monstrous migraine struck back as he began to realize his mistake.

Tanaka stared Charlie down once again. "Fingers is for our family. YOU, are Vermin. For Vermin, we will cut off your dick," he spoke with a spiteful smirk on his lips. "Vermin cannot reproduce."

The two tattooed men released Charlie, rolling down their sleeves and brushing off their suits as they rejoined the group.

"We will be back in the morning. 6 AM, SHARP," Tanaka grinned as he finished the sentence, chuckling at his own joke and explaining it his subordinates in Japanese as they began to walk away. The sounds of their laughter could be heard through the shutters, which came down with a rusty clang immediately following the exit of the last one.

"That man's breath is rear end," Charlie muttered loudly under his breath, afraid that one of the yakuza might hear him.

"Well, there ya go, 'boss'," the wife beater wearing thug spoke up. "We're hosed, aren't we?"

"That's enough, Juan," Charlie interjected. "I'll fix this. Go home guys, you don't want to be here in the morning."

No one budged. Dissatisfied pleas filled the air. "What if they come for us too," the largest thug in the room exclaimed, visibly shaken.

"GET. THE gently caress. OUT," Charlie yelled at the top of his lungs. "I'm crazy loving Charlie." He nodded to the doorman, who pulled open the shutters.

"Can't argue with that," the man in the wife beater said, giving Charlie a pat on the back. Charlie grabbed his arm. "Juan, Pablo. We're going out back."

As the rest of the thugs filed off into the dark, the three figureheads remained.


Dawn reared its unwelcome light on the shutters of the warehouse as the yakuza began to gather around the area. The boss's limo pulled up, and the door was opened by one of the lower-ranking brothers of the group. As Tanaka climbed out, a couple of men began to beat on the door with their fists. 「おいいコッッッッッッッラ、出て行け!」 

From the back room, Pablo and Juan escorted Charlie out, bags under their eyes after countless hours of planning, arguing, and ultimately deciding on a course of action to take. Pablo stayed at Charlie's side, as if holding him up while Juan ran over to open the shutters for their guests.

Charlie was barely alert. However, his eyes reflected a trance of dire stoicity.

Tanaka approached with the two henchmen from last night close behind. He wore an impatient frown.

"Do you hear that?" he looked at each of the three men, no one said a word.

"It's a mockingbird. In Japan, we don't have mockingbirds. In Japan, we don't get up to do business at 6 AM in the loving morning, with the birds. In Japan everyone KNOWS, you do not gently caress with the yakuza."

With a gesture, he signaled the two henchmen to approach. They stood ready at his sides, one of them pulling out a butterfly knife and unfurling it with a flashy display of air-calligraphy.

"Do you have our money?" Takana demanded, leaving mere centimeters distance between his face and Charlie's. Charlie simply looked him dead in the eye without a blink.

The next ten seconds felt like a minute, but Charlie was completely unfazed, unintimidated.

"Hrmph." The mere sound of Tanaka's displeasure with the lack of response was signal enough for Jiro and Yoshi to make their move. Yoshi weaved his knife through the air menacingly as he stood at Tanaka's side directly in front of Charlie, while Jiro had slipped behind and grabbed Charlie under the arms to restrain him. More yakuza henchmen stood nearby the help if necessary, but Charlie was not putting up a fight.

"You think we are joking?" Tanaka shouted loudly, then looking towards Yoshi and nodding sternly. He stood in wait patiently as his subordinate put his hands around Charlie's waistband and began to tug away at his pants.

The pants were tugged forcefully down Charlie's legs, crumpled in a pile at his feet.

A murky cloud of blood obscured the area between Charlie's legs where his member had once been. 「なんだこら。。」 exclaimed Yoshi, dropping his knife and taking a step back. The entire mob of Yakuza stood in silent shock. With a downwards glance, Jiro quickly released Charlie and retreated off to the side.

Tanaka's mouth was agape. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, in confusion.

The anger within Charlie began to intensify as his face suddenly twisted into a state of dead seriousness. "Hey, dickface. Looking for this?" He said, with the disposition of a bad-rear end ready to lunge forth and bite the neck of a large game animal. He reached into his coat pocket and in the blink of an eye, slapped Tanaka across the face with his own bloodied, severed dick. The balls that had been attached to Charlie just hours before struck the corner of Tanaka's lips with enough force to send him reeling, and the whole package flew out of Charlie's hand, and splattering against the wall with an oozy, "Sploorp".

Charlie's eyes bugged out as he glared icy daggers straight into Tanaka's skull. "I'm ... crazy ... Ch-Charlie, BIIIIITCH," he managed to push the words out of his lips, overcome with a different kind of disbelief himself.

Tanaka looked over to the severed dick in the corner, then back to Charlie, then around the room in a panic, unable to respond.

「組長がチンチンのよう臭くやがった!」 shouted the closest yakuza, fanning his nose with one hand as if someone had just farted.

"BOSSU IS, DIKKU FEISU!" exclaimed one of the yakuza standing off to the side, pointing at Tanaka, as if accusing him of some horrible crime. Laughter erupted like a volcano as every single member of the yakuza began to point mockingly towards either Tanaka or the dick.

Tears began to well up in Tanaka's eyes just as the group began to chant. "DIKKU FEISU! DIKKU FEISU! DIKKU FEISU!" Disgraced, he turned and stumbled away from the group, struggling to reach a full-sprint's pace.

The mobsters all began to run after him, shouting various taunts in Japanese. 「おい! ちょっと待ってよ、ディックフェイスやろう!呼吸で妊娠しようぜ!」 could be heard in the morning sun, amidst the cries of the mockingbirds and other small fowl.

Charlie calmly pulled his pants up, unbuckling his belt to fit them properly around his waist, then re-buckling it. He limped over to the corner where he scooped up his old friend, and put it back in his coat pocket, fastening the button before collapsing into a nearby chair with a sigh of relief.

"How's it hanging, Char? Doing ok?" asked Pablo, once again placing his hand on Charlie's shoulder to comfort him.

Charlie said nothing but gave a slight nod.

"Ay, Crazy Charlie," exclaimed Juan, walking over to greet the two. "I guess when it came down to it, you put your balls to the wall and did what had to be done," he said, breaking off into laughter. Pablo joined in with the infectious laughter.

Charlie was oblivious to the laughter, still in his trance state. His head no longer throbbed with the stress of being a little fish. Once again, he was the cock of the walk.

May 21, 2001


in again!

May 21, 2001


Ok, i'll go in with a random assignment please!

May 21, 2001


In with a flash please

May 21, 2001


Prompt: I've got a hand, so I've got a fist, so I've got a plan

399 words

"An unusual way to awaken, I thought as a torrent of warm breath lashed at my face. My eyes focused, and I found myself staring into the hungry eyes of a ravenous wolf."

"Did you yell for help? Or perhaps to try and startle the beast?"

"The fangs of the dreaded beast glimmered of crimson. I felt in my gut that they had already feasted upon the flesh of my mother and father. I could not muster a peep."

"Then you outran it?"

"Before I could shake off the initial shock and exorcize my stiff limbs of the fear, I heard a blood-curdling cry that drew my attention a short distance away. It was my elder brother Peat, revered amongst his peers as fleet of foot. He was out of his element in the freshly fallen snow. Three of the bastards had overtaken him."

"Then you must mean- at the unseasoned age of twelve, you single-handedly managed to fend off the beast by show of strength?"

"I back-peddled away from the beast, but I was in a panic as you might imagine. I stumbled backwards, and tripped over my own legs. As the wolf closed in with his.. scissor-like jaws, I was too overcome with terror to think of anything else. I began to pray."

"And was anyone listening that morning?"

"Gaea. Titania. The Great Mother, by many names. She heard my cries. Under the snow, I felt something jagged in my grasp. It was a stone."

"Just a stone?"

"It was no ordinary stone. It had been kissed by the Earth itself. I was too shaken to throw straight, but The Great Mother guided my arms."

"And you managed to strike the beast dead with one stone?"

"A fully-grown alpha male? Ridiculous. The stone struck a nearby tree, causing the snow-coated branches to rain down upon the beast a holy deluge. A chain reaction followed, and the whole pack was sent tumbling down the mountain. Since then, the only thing I ever needed to throw was rock."

"Marvelous. Well, there you have it. That was Avalanche in his first appearance at a major, ladies and gentlemen, taking a landslide victory over tournament favorite, The Barber. Stay tuned; next is the long-awaited match-up between traditionalist The Bureaucrat, and infamous sleight of hand artist Sammy the Switcher."

May 21, 2001


OK in

May 21, 2001


Would it be possible to maybe "modernize" the whole IRC thing in the form of a Thunderdome Discord or something of that sort? I don't think I have been active on IRC since the turn of the century. I guess IRC has a more secret treehouse feel to it than something like Discord, but the latter is more much advantageous.

edit: also, maybe some sub-forums cross posts including highlights or challenges with minor rewards could bring in new blood. I came here because I remembered enjoying a one or two week Thunderdome challenge that was posted in the games forum 4 or 5 years ago.

BabyRyoga fucked around with this message at 20:17 on Dec 25, 2018


May 21, 2001


If we already have a losertar and we gain another one, can we keep both?

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