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Larson, Bounty Killer CHAPTER 7 (on hiatus)
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PostPosted: Mon Apr 17, 2006 11:12 am    Post subject: Larson, Bounty Killer CHAPTER 7 (on hiatus) Reply with quote

This tale is something of a spin off/ prequel to Death of an Age, as it features Larson, Forenius's confederate, in some of his own adventures, independent of the events of Death.

Although, as of right now, Larson has not been formally introduced in Death, in fact his first appearance was just in Chapter 8, in which his name has yet to be revealed, I felt compelled to write out some of his exploits.



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PostPosted: Mon Apr 17, 2006 11:13 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 1

“Hold still, dammit!” He cursed under his breath as the blood spurted and sprayed in his face, blinding him for a few seconds.

Wiping away the crimson mask, he raised the hatchet again. It was frustrating, really. He’d been hacking and chopping away for some time and the bastard’s head just refused to leave his shoulders. He could have left long ago if the stipulation for this contract was that he had to present the duke with his brother’s severed cranium.

It just so happened that his brother was blessed with neck sinews of steel. Perhaps not literally, but it sure as hell felt like it. He must have decapitated hundreds of men over the years, but the one time he had to have the head, absolutely HAD to have it, it just wouldn’t leave the body.

“God, if you were half this annoying in life, then it’s no wonder you’re worth so much dead,” The assassin mumbled as he took a breather from the strenuous task at hand.

During this break, a knocking on the chamber door suddenly seized the killer’s attention.

“I’m a comin’ in, my Lord. ‘Tis supper time,” Drifted in a kindly feminine voice.

Doing his best to cough a bit and disguise his voice, the henchman replied, “No thank ya, ma’am. I’m in no mood to sup.”

The door continued swinging open despite his desperate rush toward it. At the last possible second, he flung himself against it and sent the determined servant bouncing out into the hallway. He could hear plates shattering and a fat old lady hitting the ground even through the thick oak.

Now, with discovery imminent and the maid pretty much biting at his heels through the doorway, Larson made with a last ditch effort to remove his mark’s skull. Placing a foot on the victim’s shoulder and seizing the chin, he pulled with all his might, issuing forth with a mighty groan much like an angry bear. To his surprise, the reluctant Gulliver popped from its moorings and flew from his hands.

“I really should have given that a try sooner,” The smiling killer chortled, but his victory was short lived as the elderly servant popped in.

Seeing the blood and her master’s missing organ, she began to scream and shout, rushing about looking for the missing guards. He was left no choice but to cut her off short with a swift stroke of the hatchet, severing her head clean in one strike.

Looking at the blade in disbelief, the cloaked man asked, “What the hell was that? And you couldn’t do it any earlier?”

Hearing the pounding sound of the echoes from the heavily armored guards storming up the staircase, he grabbed the wayward noggin and leapt from the open window with little concern to his own safety. The swordsmen were but a second behind, bursting into the chamber, swords drawn only to find no sign of the murderer.

As luck would have it, there had been a passing cart containing enough hay to feed a stable full of horses beneath the escape route. Bouncing about, the red cloaked man rolled from the vehicle and hit the ground running. His next move was into the sewers deep beneath the city to redeem his contract.

Larson was truly glad that this was not his normal kind of work, as it was not his custom to kill innocents. The duke’s brother was a cruel man, a foul sadist and criminal who pretty much had it coming. No such animal deserved mercy of any measure. Getting paid for it was just a bonus. For this job, it was a very handsome bonus indeed.
The duke had known that the half elven bounty hunter was not accustomed to such work and had easily made it worth his while. Everyone fell on hard times, and it had just so happened to be his time when he was approached for such an unorthodox endeavor. He just hoped the duke would pay the full amount as promised. That was the problem with nobility, it seemed.

They were always out to screw someone.

“At least I got the job done,” He thought with a glance inside the burlap sack that contained the grisly price.

What he saw there gave him pause. He hoped his eyes were lying, but being half elf, he was unable to blame it on the darkness, as they were blessed with an uncanny ability to see in even the blackest of nights.

Taking another glance at the contents of the bag, he felt the rage welling up in the back of his throat like a massive dam about to burst. Throwing the worthless object on the ground in disgust, he cursed at his sheer rotten luck, the gods’ warped sense of humor, and, most of all, his own stupidity.

In his haste, he’d grabbed the wrong head…
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PostPosted: Mon Apr 17, 2006 11:14 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

So, decision point...

What does he do since he knows that he grabbed the wrong head?
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PostPosted: Mon Apr 17, 2006 12:15 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well, as he said, he would have killed the man for free, and going back will most likely prove difficult.

I'd say leave it, and go on to his next assignment.
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PostPosted: Mon Apr 17, 2006 12:39 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I say he should go back later on and get the right one. As he said it was tough times for everyone so he would need some $$$.
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PostPosted: Mon Apr 17, 2006 4:03 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Great chapter Dem.

A Good Chapter Medal coming up for you.

Er, depends on what they usually do with the bodies. Perhaps, if they put them on display for mourners, he could nip back and steal it?
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PostPosted: Mon Apr 17, 2006 4:44 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Seeing as how the head was so difficult to remove, perhaps you don't have the wrong appendage after all. Hang on to the head you have for the time, and then try to sneak back and fetch the other head if it turns out that you did indeed grab the wrong one. Seems like there was some enchantment on the original pate to begin with, else it wouldn't have been so firmly, undeniably attached.
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PostPosted: Mon Apr 17, 2006 8:56 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Sounds pretty cool this chapter. F5 fauna by the way.
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PostPosted: Tue Apr 18, 2006 8:31 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Wow... thanks for the input. This has certainly gotten a much more positive reaction than I'd ever hoped for.

We now have a poll and I'd love to see some votes.
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PostPosted: Tue Apr 18, 2006 8:41 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Wait a bit...I'm sure there is something funny about that head.
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PostPosted: Tue Apr 18, 2006 8:46 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I read this today Jack, and it's most enjoyable Very Happy

A laugh escaped at the paragraphs describing his attempts at removing the head and you made an unexpected and good decision point.

I've voted for Fauna's suggestion - definately seems to be something suspicious going on, especially with how easy it was to remove the maid's head.

Keep it coming, and...

Happy Writing Very Happy
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PostPosted: Tue Apr 18, 2006 9:14 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

F5 the others. Good start, Jack - and I want to see whether we're being duped by an illusioned head or something Smile
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PostPosted: Tue Apr 18, 2006 10:42 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Voted to move on, but was against the sheep.
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PostPosted: Tue Apr 18, 2006 5:12 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I think it was a simple mistake. He needs to go and get the real one, and voted that way. And not winning.
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PostPosted: Wed Apr 19, 2006 3:44 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Going with fauna and her gang.
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PostPosted: Thu Apr 20, 2006 3:48 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok. I'm feelin the mood comin on, so don't be surprised if I go ahead and crank out the next chapter...
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PostPosted: Fri Apr 21, 2006 11:47 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 2

Calming his breathing, the bounty hunter, soothed his rage and thought through things as best he could. Perhaps there was something odd with this head. Perhaps it was some form of enchantment. Maybe the bastard saw it coming and did something special… something magical.

Or maybe Larson had gotten sloppy in his long years of adventure. That was possible too, but he dismissed that possibility on account of he didn’t like it. A valid reason any day in his book.

He unwrapped the brutalized cranium on the damp stone floor of the sewer and sat cross legged directly in front of it as if they were about to have a pleasant little conversation all to themselves and he wanted no interlopers. Which, on some level, was true.

Looking deep into the maid’s rolled back lifeless eyes like some lost lover, Larson began to doubt his own sanity for a second. But it wasn’t like he really had a damn thing to lose at this point.

“Ok, old lass, you’re goin to tell me all you know, if you like it not.”

Waiting a few seconds as he pursed his lips and took a swig from the flask he kept tucked away within the cloak. The sweet fire burned its way down his esophagus, reminding him that this wasn’t really just some jacked up dream.

And he’d had such high hopes there for a bit…

As he lowered the flask, he was greatly surprised to hear a voice speaking. Hurriedly stashing the booze back inside its cozy home within his garments, Larson leapt up and began to look about.

There was no one beside him.

No one behind him.

Hell, no one even above him.

That left only one place… (gulp) in front of him…

Slowly and with a belly full of unwholesome dread, the half elf turned his gaze, hoping to see some zombie, some ghoul, something, anything that he could kill with the hatchets dangling from his sides.

But today just wasn’t his day, as the head, lopsided and covered with gore locked its cold dead eyes with his own and curled its bluish upper lip in contempt.

“I gotta stop drinkin’.”

The bodiless skull spat out in response, “You bet your bottom dollar you should.”

“Or maybe, I should start drinkin’ more… maybe it’s dehydration,” The killer mused.

“Do you know who I am, boy?” The fiendish top snarled.

“Boy? I’m a man by all rights and intentions,” The hunter fumed. “Unlike you who are a useless hunk of bone and brain without a body. Not too sure why you’re talkin’ but… hey. Guess I can’t really argue with the way the dice land.”

Slightly flustered, the glazed blue eyes glared at him for a second but no longer was the man disturbed as he had seen worse things in his life than a talking cranium.

Besides, what was the worst it could do?

Bite his toes off?

A slight smile worked its slow way across his face at the absurdity of the thought, almost provoking outright laughter.

“And now you jest at me. Bastard!” The disgruntled bean demanded.

“How can I take you seriously when you’re still wearing that awful disguise?” Larson responded, fishing into a pouch on his belt for a pinch of some very special powder.

Puzzled and helpless, the noodle could do nothing but watch as the red cloaked assassin raised the grain into the air, offering homage to the gods and drawing upon a small bit of the clerical magics that he’d inherited from his full blood elf mother.

A couple of harshly whispered words and the enchantment was activated. Leaning over the irked crown, he sprinkled the film over it, being sure to get an even spread.

Before his very eyes, the face changed before him, shifting gradually like a surreal reflection from the maid servant to the lord and whoremonger that he’d been hired to dispatch.

“Well, well, look at that won’t ya?” The bounty killer asked, raising to his feet and dusting the remaining dust from his hands in congratulatory glee of a job well done like a hardworking farm hand.

“You misbegotten mongrel! Foul unfathered cretin! You will pay! Pay, I tell you!”

“Oh, shut up,” Larson commanded as he shoved the satchel that had previously been used for the carting of the crown into its mouth, effectively silencing it except for a few stubborn grunts that persisted.

The journey continued. Eventually, Larson began to speak to his unwilling companion for lack of anything better to do.

“You know, head, you’re gonna make me a very rich…” The statement drifted off there, ending suddenly and dropping off like a two ton weight.

What lay before him could only be described as total destruction. Blood and gore littered the floor like some cheap waste after a huge party. It was obvious that this was his employer and company… well what was left of them at least.

And Larson thought he knew right were to find the answers he needed. He hefted his domed friend and removed the gag from its mouth.

“Ok, what the hell happened?”

“Oh, its on. You’re in way over your head, boy,” The spiteful think tank replied, his words dripping with hate and malice.

“I don’t care about that. What exactly did this?”

Smiling for the first time in their adventures, the disembodied biscuit simply said, “ My body… my real body.”

For some reason, on some level, Larson knew that this was trouble. Big trouble.
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PostPosted: Fri Apr 21, 2006 11:48 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok, what does he do now?
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PostPosted: Fri Apr 21, 2006 11:56 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Good chapter Jack Very Happy

I'd say keep the head talking. It wants to tell you what's going on. It wants to gloat. Give it every opportunity to do just that. Egg it on, act outraged. I have a feeling you won't have to act that hard Razz
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PostPosted: Fri Apr 21, 2006 2:40 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I doubt this head has anything important or valuable to say. Keep it around for the amusement factor, but likely there isn't much connection between the enchanted head and the dead employer (other than the obvious that the original owner of the head was wanted dead, by the guy that is now scattered all over the floor).

The head disguised itself initially, and now gloats and taunts? If the body could hunt down and kill in search of the head, seems like the head would have wanted it to come after the bounty hunter. Confused

Of course the head emphasized real body, indicating that it might have been hacked (at great pains) from a fake body...perhaps hunting down your original target's closest family (other than, of course, this presently gory dead one that had wanted him dead--this death is getting complicating) and inquiring about the recently deceased might point you in the proper direction.

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PostPosted: Fri Apr 21, 2006 3:33 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Let it keep talking, it's bound to give a better explanation though it has a roundabout manner for it.
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PostPosted: Fri Apr 21, 2006 4:26 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Find out what it means and evaluate his risk, if he is threatened by the REAL body then maybe go and kill it. Otherwise, dump the head, or maybe sell it and find another job!

Nice chapter btw Jack.
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PostPosted: Fri Apr 21, 2006 4:44 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Yes, keep the hea talking unless it gets too annoying, and then chuck it.
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PostPosted: Sun Apr 23, 2006 3:53 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

You may have to put a gag in his mouth, eventually probably.
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PostPosted: Sat Apr 29, 2006 2:57 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Got the poll up now. Great ideas about the head, guys.

Looking forward to writin the next chapter. And Larson says thanks for the nomination. (I think he might have a crush Very Happy ).
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PostPosted: Sat Apr 29, 2006 3:07 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

*votes for tracking down next of kin...and blows Larson a kiss for luck in the IFys*
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PostPosted: Sat Apr 29, 2006 4:23 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Wow...its true, you CAN make people being decapitated funny. Cool.
This is really great story, so far I read 4 chapters of Death of an Age. Lots of people here are really good writers...
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PostPosted: Sat Apr 29, 2006 4:31 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thanks, man. Have fun and good reading. If your stuff so far has been a sign, you're gonna get along great here.
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PostPosted: Sat Apr 29, 2006 4:34 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I voted to try and get more information out of the head, but I'm afraid no kiss from me.
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PostPosted: Sat Apr 29, 2006 4:37 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

For some reason, I don't think Larson would appreciate that one near as much, Lordy...
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PostPosted: Sat Apr 29, 2006 8:56 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Tell me more, tell me more..." Totally not in context I know, but really the words makes sense if you don't put them in the context of Grease. Very Happy

I think I will just let Fauna blow the good luck kiss. I am more of a bad luck charm.... Wink

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PostPosted: Sun Apr 30, 2006 6:56 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I think that your half elven bounty killer Larson should ignore the elf in him and follow his human instincts..

If you dont understand it.. fear it.. if you fear it.. kill it.

I think this is a perfect time to break out the mallets and have some fun.
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PostPosted: Sun Apr 30, 2006 7:05 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ladies and gentlemen... my room mate.
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PostPosted: Sun Apr 30, 2006 7:10 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

*welcomes roommate* Very Happy
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PostPosted: Sun Apr 30, 2006 7:22 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I've voted for provoke the Head more - we need to know something that gives us direction.

Welcome to Zeitgeist too. Smile

Happy Playing Very Happy
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PostPosted: Sun Apr 30, 2006 7:31 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

thanks for the welcomes
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PostPosted: Mon May 01, 2006 11:39 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 3

Nudging some errant viscera out of his way with a black boot, Larson cleared the small creaky bench in the center of the subterranean chamber. Placing the smiling head upon the table before him, he pursed his lips and pondered how to begin this little talk. As he began to take his seat, he noticed something odd beneath his right buttock. Reaching down there, he removed the sliver of spleen with gloved hand as he prepared to speak.

“Alright, head. I think it’s time we had a… umm…a heart to heart, so to say,” The half elf began, espying that very organ lying about across the room.

“Heart to heart, funny, considering that as of right now, I lack one,” The crown responded with a smug smirk that just made Larson want to backhand it like an insolent child.

It was only by great restraint that he stopped himself from doing so.

Then, upon a second’s more thought, he decided it’d be shameful not to.

The smack thundered throughout the empty tunnels and the cranium cursed loudly as it rolled over and off the table, landing in a rather deep pool of blood. Further attempts at profanity were inhibited by a gurgling sound as it slowly began to drown in the fluid.

“Oh, so somebody’s not so high and mighty now, eh? Suppose you’d like a helpin’ hand since ya seem to be lacking one as of right now,” The red cloaked bounty killer taunted, feeling rather satisfied as he watched the crimson bubbles churn up to the surface of the shallow pool.

Picking up the skull by its hair, he hefted it high in the air and stared closely into its cruel beady little eyes.

“Ok, so we have ascertained that you can die, after all. So why don’t you just explain this whole little scenario to me from the beginning.”

“No. Whilst I’d love nothing more than to gloat, you’ll get no villain’s exposition from me, you ruffian!” The embittered dome spat out defiantly.

“Ok. Whatever. Let’s take a walk.”

A few minutes, two rights, and a left later, they were perched above a seemingly bottomless pit of excrement, the odor of which drifted up in a foul vapor that nearly made the fortune hunter dry heave had it not been for his resolve to show no weakness. The brown waste bubbled and toiled, churning with the obscene creatures that lurked within.

Holding the knob high above this unpleasant olfactory sensation, the interrogation was renewed.

Seeing his own demise at hand significantly lessened the unnatural thing’s resistance and he crumbled, finally giving in to his assassin’s demands.

“I was magically grafted to another body, in anticipation of my own… untimely demise,” The think tank hastily attempted to explain.

“Then what is your real body? What the hell are you?” The swashbuckler spat out in rapid fire.

“This may be kind of hard for your mortal mind to grasp, but I so happen to be a more than talented necromancer.”

“Necromancy doesn’t include mounting your own head on other bodies last time I checked. Out with it, shorty,” The dark eyed adventurer demanded.

“That’s a little something new I figured out… after I sold my soul for the Tome of Eternal Darkness.”

“The Tome of Eternal Darkness? As in the most Unholy of Unholies? As in written in the blood of virgins and bound in the skin of the last of the great shadow dragons?” The rogue asked, disbelieving the words that came from the undead mouth.

“Yes. As in it was pinned by the demon king Aryeh Vavrin himself during what time he was banished to this plane.”

“Do you know what you have done, you twit?”

“Yes, I have given myself life eternal for a minimal cost.”

“A minimal cost being the lives of every man, woman, and child upon this planet?”

“What? I am unfamiliar with that…”

“If you were familiar with Elven prophecy and lore, you’d know that His return is heralded by the return of His greatest work to this land. You’ve doomed us all, you pathetic fool,” Larson said as his face darkened, turning to stone.

Realizing what he had done, the shock of the former underworld kingpin was plain to see in the seconds before he was released into the pool of impurities to die his final death beneath the bubbling mass.

Larson stood high upon the ledge watching his former target sink as he contemplated his next move. He’d need help for this one, but from what he had learned, he had but a small amount of time to gather allies. Where would one find brave men when they were needed?
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PostPosted: Mon May 01, 2006 11:40 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

DP:

Where can Larson find some help fast?

Ideas anyone?
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PostPosted: Mon May 01, 2006 12:02 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ring up the old Questing Guild, try the mercs and any old drinking buddies you've got.
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PostPosted: Mon May 01, 2006 12:04 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Yeah, I'd agree with Lordy, to some extent.

Larson should ride, fast as he can, to the nearest halfway decent town or city, hook up with the thieves' or hunters' guilds there and see if he can get anyone interested in the certain death of everyone on the face of the planet.

He might get a few polite smiles in response. You never know Razz
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PostPosted: Mon May 01, 2006 6:29 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Given his knowledge of elfen lore it would seem reasonable of him to head home for some time. Or perhaps summon an elf to his side to aid him in finding a solution. However I also like Lordy's idea of drinking buddies. At the very least let him leave the sewers, the smell offends me. Confused

He may also use this army I have summoned for him.
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PostPosted: Tue May 02, 2006 1:01 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Welcome Zeddy.

Nice work with the Head. I have nothing else to suggest just now, so I f5 the above. Very Happy
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PostPosted: Tue May 02, 2006 5:43 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Good chapter Jack - enjoying it, although I'd have like to have seen a bit more torture of the Head. If it had made such dark oaths it was unlikely to break them at a threat. Gently hammering a nail slowly up its nose would have got it talking pretty quickly.

As for what to do...

Against such a threat we needs more than a few cutthroats and pickpockets that will as soon stick a knife in our back or run at the first sign of trouble as anything else.

We may not be that heroic, but we need some fellows who are on our side. Some sort of knight/paladin, barbarian, dwarf - whatever. Someone who we can atleast trust as far as we can throw them.

Maybe some church or temple could be approached with this knowledge?

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PostPosted: Tue May 02, 2006 2:25 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Alrighty then. We have the poll up.

Where to look for aforementioned brave men to fight by his side?

hmmm... This may be a tough one.

So don't be afraid to use your lifeline and ask a friend (meaning of course that you make them read it too... Hopefully they'll get hooked. Wink ).
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PostPosted: Tue May 02, 2006 3:13 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

There should be an 'all of the above' option.
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PostPosted: Tue May 02, 2006 3:53 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok, maybe I should rephrase, cause I'll probably have him look in just about all of them.

Where will he be successful in finding allies?
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PostPosted: Tue May 02, 2006 7:57 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Voted, obviously. Wink
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PostPosted: Tue May 02, 2006 9:44 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Obviously voted.
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PostPosted: Tue May 02, 2006 9:47 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

You obvious people up there - what did you vote for? We know you voted, coz it says under the poll.

If you're gonna post, and run off with 5 fables then at least say (by editting, not posting again Wink ) what you vote for, otherwise it's obviously pointless posting.

I voted for temple. Smile
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PostPosted: Tue May 02, 2006 9:49 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I put in Fighters Guild/Hunting Tavern. It seems a good place for finding seasoned allies, would have gone for mercinaries but they are notricously known for backstabbing you when a shiny coin is involved.
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PostPosted: Tue May 02, 2006 10:03 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Smee wrote:
You obvious people up there - what did you vote for? We know you voted, coz it says under the poll.
)


I don't usually say I voted, I was just playing around in response to Raves' post.

I voted for the Fighters guild, for the same reason as DF, it seems like a good place to find hardy allies.
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PostPosted: Wed May 03, 2006 2:46 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Begin at a temple...get a few kick-ass monks with a distaste for undead evil and then go on a holy mission to save the world from this vile filth. Smile
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PostPosted: Wed May 03, 2006 2:33 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I voted for back home, because it's a well known fact that hardcore heroes always have old mates who are even harder than them. Everyone knows that.
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PostPosted: Thu May 04, 2006 10:31 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

F5 to lordy on that one.. Back home is where the action is always at. Also cause thats where I placed my vote.
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PostPosted: Thu May 04, 2006 8:17 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well since you want to know. I went for the temple. I had a reason, but I forgot it 'cause I am tired with all my AP studying.
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PostPosted: Sat May 06, 2006 7:15 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Voted for back home! Very Happy
elves are much more reliable then cut purses!thats why i voted that...
OH NO I MADE IT A 3 WAY TIE!!!!!!!!!! Sad
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PostPosted: Sat May 06, 2006 7:17 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

ok now 3 more ppl vote for taverns!*joking*

or he can use this army i borrowed from my friend, george bush

:biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile
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PostPosted: Sun May 07, 2006 4:22 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Hey Fear, no double posting. Edit your previous one, if you happen to want to say more.

Welcome to City of IF, by the way. Very Happy

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PostPosted: Sun May 07, 2006 3:59 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

The Meaning Of Fear wrote:
ok now 3 more ppl vote for taverns!*joking*

or he can use this army i borrowed from my friend, george bush

:biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin: Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile


I see how it is, generating a bigger army then the one I offered. So I send in cyclops reinforcements. Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile
And a Medusa as well. Mad
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PostPosted: Wed May 10, 2006 1:18 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Hey you guys, no spamming in the storygame threads. Sad
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PostPosted: Wed May 10, 2006 3:26 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Sorry for my absence on the second chapter, Jack. I know am back to speed and ready to go.
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PostPosted: Thu May 11, 2006 7:45 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

ooooh!winning!!!!!!!!!!OH YEAH!IN YA'LL FACES!!!!!!!!!!WOOT~~!


......as for your bigger army,i have now also borrowed from my 2 friendly mates, zeus and thor....and musnt forget hades.oh and jesus let me rent his angels, as long as i pay rent.... and wats-is-name-from-a-nightmare-realised let me borrow some wights...

Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile Smile
AngelAngelAngelAngelAngelAngelAngelAngelAngelAngelAngelAngelAngelAngel
:twisted: :twisted::twisted::twisted::twisted::twisted::twisted::twisted:
Surprised Surprised Surprised Surprised Surprised Surprised Surprised Surprised Surprised Surprised Surprised Surprised Surprised Surprised Surprised
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PostPosted: Thu May 11, 2006 7:47 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well it won't be a tie until someone new chooses the second or last choice.
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PostPosted: Thu May 11, 2006 10:06 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Dont have to worry about that one. I just finished the newest chapter and it'll be up in a sec.
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PostPosted: Thu May 11, 2006 10:07 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 4

Emerging from the sewers like some half drowned rat, Larson peeked his head up into the city street. He ducked right back down as a large ox drawn cart hurtled overhead. A potato rolled from a sack in the cart and tumbled into the pit in which he hid.

Catching the root, he nodded, saying, “Hmm… Dinner,” as he stowed it within one of his many hidden pockets.

Checking to ensure the coast was clear, he emerged from the hole, doing his best to brush the filth and grime from his crimson cloak, the bounty killer began to think.

Help from mercenaries was never wise, as they were treacherous scum to a man. Of course most of them said that or worse about bounty hunters, but that was only because they provided a good fifty percent or so of any hunter’s income.

He doubted that a human temple in the local area would help, as they refused to even acknowledge the existence of Aryeh Vavrin. They had kind of a distaste for most everything elven, especially half breeds like himself. Drawing attention to himself and risking an inquisition was definitely not a good idea. Burning at a stake was not a pleasant sensation, he bet.

A hunting coven or a fighter’s guild could always yield some results, but he had no gold with which to pay nor could he guarantee treasure, loot, and booty. So it was out.

So that left him with one last viable option. He would have to get a message home and draw upon his friends. They would believe in the prophecy, as his cleric elven mother had done much to facilitate cultural exchange with the nomads during what time she had lived within the tribe.

Of course, things had a way of changing, which they probably had under the new regime. Because of the new khan, he could never return to his homeland. Needless to say, the state of affairs on the steppes weighed heavily on his mind, making him more than a little hesitant about what to do.

First thing was that he’d have to find somewhere in which he could relax for a bit, unwind and clear his troubled mind. Perhaps he could even get a hot bath and a cold ale, something that he was absolutely not opposed to.

If he knew this rat’s den of a city, then, the Lusty Wench should be somewhere nearby. Turning around, the cloaked hunter couldn’t help but smile as he saw the more than welcome sight of the bordello and inn across the muddy street.

Cutting straight across, and consequently sinking up to his knees in filth, Larson was not bothered in the least. There was no way it could be more filthy than the sewers he’d just emerged from.

The sound of a drunk retching violently caused his head to snap over almost immediately just in time to see the man puke out his alcohol into the sludge. Perhaps he’d underestimated the hygienic failings of the fair people of this town and the street was a close second? Maybe even worse?

He shuddered and picked up the pace.

Once he was inside, he simply sauntered up to the bar, tossed down a gold coin and said, “Usual room.”

The scantily clad female behind the counter smiled warmly and nodded. The half elf was well liked around here for his sharp wit and the way he took care of the girls. On more than once occasion, he’d roughed up a couple of drunken louts with no charge other than that they save a specific room for his use only.

Upstairs several minutes later, the swashbuckler stood shirtless, a steaming bath ran and ready, complete with one waiting harlot holding a sponge.

Although it was not really the order he preferred, business came before pleasure. Searching out amongst the cages, he found the pigeon that knew its way to his people’s current seasonal encampment. He tied a note to the bird’s foot and sent it off with a prayer, hoping that it would reach his friends.

That being done, he threw off the pants and leapt into the tub, soaking the woman as well. She giggled, rather used to his wild antics as he placed a hot kiss on her red lips.

…………………………

Roka was riding about, as was his habit at sunset. The powerful beast breathed slowly, raggedly, tired from the exertions of this day. It had been a long hunt earlier and the village was well fed.

He thought the day’s concerns were a thing of the past when he saw a figure cross the crest of a nearby hill, hell bound for him. Riding to meet the man halfway, he was greeted with a message.

“Are you sure this is right? Is it really from Larson?” He asked after glancing over the scroll.

“Yes, yes. We decoded it twice, Great Strategist,” The messenger nodded.

“Tell the khan that I leave tonight,” Roka said, tossing the notice back to the supplicant as he rode toward his yurt.

He was inside and almost packed when the khan and his guard burst within the hut all hot tempers and gnashing teeth.

“Where do you think you are going, Roka? To fight in some fool’s war with some fool?” The warlord demanded.

“Yes, my lord. With or without your leave,” The tribesman said, a hand falling to the hilt of his sword.

“I need you here. You cannot go. Request denied,” The chief spat out contemptuously.

“I don’t think you heard me. I don’t give a damn about those petty raids. They can wait. A friend needs me. Now.” Synching up his travel sack, the warrior tossed it across his back.

“If you walk out now for that half breed, you walk out of the tribe,” The leader spelled out, obviously drawing a line.

A new voice entered the arena, peeking through the open window in the yurt’s side.

“Yes, well tribe life isn’t all that great anyways. I’m sure he’ll do fine without you. After all, look at me,” The gruff speaker projected, his chords rusty after having not spoken to anyone but his falcon for many years now.

“Outcast! How dare you come to this place!” The khan snarled, his words dripping with malice.

Cutting in, Roka spoke, “You know, Larson was right. You are a pompous ass,” As he shouldered through the crowd and out the door.

“You’ll regret this! You will rue the day, Roka. When you leave with the Outcast to help that mongrel, you leave for good!” The shouting clansman threatened.

“You are so hasty to abandon the teachings of the best Clan Mother we have ever had just because of your ill founded hate for all things elven, aren’t you?” Roka spoke turning.

“Hell, that was obvious. He even banished her only son after she finally keeled over despite the fact that he has more of a right to the khanate than he,” The outcast muttered as he swung a leg high over his horse.

“Unfounded lies! I could have you killed!” The barbarian responded.

Roka, having had enough of the portentous bastard, turned and finished the conversation with, “He was the Great Khan’s illegitimate son, and you are but a distant cousin from the far wilds! Tell me who is the rightful heir!”

Riding away, the two left the fuming general in the dust, his guards eyeing him nervously and for the first time, doubting his integrity and intentions.

…………………………


Late that night, Larson was out stretching on the balcony above the street, a cold mug in hand, relaxing after the evening’s exertions. Although he’d lost out on one of the biggest jobs he’d ever had, the day had been fulfilling. And not in the way that there were three exhausted prostitutes lying about his room in many varied positions.

Instead, he actually had a purpose. A good fight for something besides the next sack of coins. It was a great feeling, something he’d not had since…

Since he’d been forced to leave home. It was a thought he did not enjoy, memories that he did not relish. Running the guantlet was not something one forgot, especially with so many scars as little reminders.

He wished for something to distract him from the pain…

An arrow whispered through the air from an adjacent roof and struck the post that he’d just been pacing in front of.

Ducking down, he whispered to the gods above, “Not what I meant! Not what I meant!”

He crawled around the door and worked his way back inside, taking shelter behind a divan as he contemplated his next move.

His thought process was interrupted by a hefty brick smashing through the stained glass window above. Attached to it was a note.

It read in flawless, articulate penmanship, “The one called Larson comes out or we burn this whorehouse to the ground.”

Sitting back, he ran his hands through his long hair as he debated about the best course of action.
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PostPosted: Thu May 11, 2006 11:56 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Use a back exit. There's bound to be a couple of lesser-known escape routes, and he knows the building well enough by now.

Then, when they're shouting their threats and throwing their stones, sneak up and see who's doing the threatening. At that point, we'll know better whether we can take them or not Very Happy
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PostPosted: Fri May 12, 2006 1:37 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

It's not going to make him popular with the locals though, if he just abandons the building to burn.
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PostPosted: Fri May 12, 2006 2:27 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I'd say he tries to get near an opening and see who or what is threatening him. Then he could always go through a back door like Stoat said, or try and fight it from his room.
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PostPosted: Fri May 12, 2006 3:14 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Doesn't seem like they just want to kill you at first sight. Walk out half-naked and appearing drunk. Let them think they have you. You can then assess the situation in the open, see how many are in the street to face you and possibly get an idea if anyone is concealed in an alley or on a rooftop.

I'm sure you'll have some form of backup. A houseful of intrepid whores isn't going to cower in a corner while their home and livelihood gets torched. And the other clientèle will provide distraction if not assistance.

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PostPosted: Fri May 12, 2006 5:48 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I agree with Shady. Find a back exit from the establishment, and access the strength of our enemies.
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PostPosted: Fri May 12, 2006 1:32 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Hey Jack - good chapter. Very Happy

I F5 Fauns plan. He needs to get outside to stop his safehouse being destroyed, but also assess what he's up against.

Happy Writing Very Happy
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PostPosted: Fri May 12, 2006 3:31 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Very nice chapter, jack. Very Happy
You kinda get the feeling Larson is oh so VERY VERY different to Forenius...Well, ok not even VERY VERY would describe their differences. Just try imagining Forenius being a bounty hunter and working 3 prostitutes. Shocked
Anyway, here are my ideas:
If he has a bow, he can tie a note to an arrow(preferably the one that was shot at him) and demand why they want him, or simply walk out for a talk. If they are hostile, try to find some means of escape.
If all else fails, lets just say blood will be spilt Wink .
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PostPosted: Fri May 12, 2006 11:47 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Jack wrote:
It read in flawless, articulate penmanship, “The one called Larson comes out or we burn this whorehouse to the ground.”


sounds to me like there is an elf in the neighborhood.

Jack wrote:
His thought process was interrupted by a hefty brick smashing through the stained glass window above. Attached to it was a note.


also sounds like that there is a brawny human in the area.

Perhaps his friends are very fast... or there are some Doppelgangers in the area?

I f5 whoever it was that supported his going out to speak, if he is the hero of the story he will be fine if not then the good guys will still win.
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PostPosted: Sat May 13, 2006 2:21 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Quote:
he can tie a note to an arrow


Do you know how hard it is to shoot an arrow with a note attached? It's not easy I'm telling you - the arrow wobbles so much while in flight, off-sets the balance completely.

Quote:
hero of the story he will be fine


You can't ever assume that just because he's the hero he will live. Look at Heroes Never Panic, in which the option we voted for caused Taggart to die, and Mannings became the protagnist instead.
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PostPosted: Sat May 13, 2006 5:39 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

But night, you musnt forget that larson made it all the way to be in death of an age, so he can't die now.if he did, then jack would have to change his other story, and that would be very frustrating Very Happy
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PostPosted: Sun May 14, 2006 7:55 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

This could be afterwards, or a dream, or the other one could be an imposter, or he could have been brought back to life, or the Gods could have given him one last chance to do good, or an alternative reality.

There's any number of possible reasons why he could die here and still be in Death of an Age.
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PostPosted: Sun May 14, 2006 9:51 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Or both of you could be just overanalyzing this way too much, and just enjoy the story as is.
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PostPosted: Sun May 14, 2006 9:57 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

F5 Ravenwing.

My form of entertainment doesn't lend itself heavily to extreme amounts of thought.

In the Navy, we call that 'nuking' something, cause everyone in the nuke power rates has a real bad habit of... well... overanalyzing things aka 'nuking' them.
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PostPosted: Sun May 14, 2006 10:04 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

LOL. That's an interesting term to use.

An image of an idea balloon blowing up came to mind when I first read your post. Some people I guess love to think too much. Lordy, and Fear I guess go under that category. LOL.

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PostPosted: Mon May 15, 2006 4:31 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Glad you like my bit of sailorly slang.

Maybe if we're lucky, it'll catch on here, and be used a lot like F5. Wink
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PostPosted: Mon May 15, 2006 4:51 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

We'll see. Stay around long enough, and I am sure it will be adapted.
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PostPosted: Mon May 15, 2006 8:29 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I was merely pointing out that nothing in a storygame is final.
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PostPosted: Tue May 16, 2006 9:13 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Don't worry, Lordy.

I've got a bad habit of nuking things too. Sorry if I sounded insulting or anything.

But good news...

We have a poll!
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PostPosted: Wed May 17, 2006 6:24 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Even better, a poll.

Voted for sneaking out the back. We can't be too sure of our welcome, even when drunk.

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PostPosted: Wed May 17, 2006 2:30 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote


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And the story goes The Orc and The Not so Fat Fat Fairy

The Orc says....
The Twisty Stoat says....
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PostPosted: Wed May 17, 2006 2:36 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Great to see you reading this stuff, OT.

Hope you're enjoying it.
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PostPosted: Wed May 17, 2006 4:24 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

OmegaTerra wrote:


Good smiley OT!
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PostPosted: Wed May 17, 2006 5:57 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote




:biggrin: I do like what I've read so far.
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PostPosted: Wed May 17, 2006 8:20 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Interesting smilies, OT
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PostPosted: Wed May 17, 2006 9:06 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I voted for stumbling out acting drunk.. that just seems like a more interesting read than him sneaking.. we have seen him sneak and drunken behavior is always fun Confused

Other than that cant wait to read thr rest of Larsons adventures.
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PostPosted: Thu May 18, 2006 2:32 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Oooo, we almost have a tie...
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PostPosted: Thu May 18, 2006 4:10 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Quote:
On more than once occasion, he’d roughed up a couple of drunken louts with no charge other than that they save a specific room for his use only.


One.

Can Larson aim well? Even if he can't, he could just pitch the brick back and then sneak out. It's true that they don't sound like they want to kill him right off, but there's nothing saying that they might incapacitate him. Bad position to be in.

Nice story, by the way. Smile
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PostPosted: Thu May 18, 2006 3:54 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Voted for the sneaking out option, and winning.
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PostPosted: Thu May 18, 2006 7:57 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

same as lordy Very Happy

well, come on jack! write the 4th chapter! all your adoring fans are waiting! Mad
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PostPosted: Thu May 18, 2006 10:22 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Viridian what is aether?(just curious)

and come on ppl where is the desire for drunken behavior.. thats one of the fun parts of Larson
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PostPosted: Thu May 18, 2006 10:40 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I voted for drunken stumblings.
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PostPosted: Thu May 18, 2006 10:43 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Hey It's our mayor! Very Happy

Hey Smee go to the newbies thread and have a look! Me and Whitey are have a debate on whether you are a good mayor...I of course, am your side. Very Happy
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PostPosted: Thu May 18, 2006 10:59 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Quote:
Me and Whitey


Whitey and I.
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PostPosted: Thu May 18, 2006 11:28 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Darn! Surprised

stupid typos......
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PostPosted: Fri May 19, 2006 2:18 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Aether is ether; I just like the difthong. (It just means the sky, the higher parts. Wink)

Druken behaviour might get him killed! Shocked
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PostPosted: Fri May 19, 2006 5:56 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well that option didn't win. So don't worry Larson won't be killed while pretending to be drunk. LOL. Very Happy
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PostPosted: Fri May 19, 2006 9:34 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well Jack, you did it again. You were right, I do like this story. :nod: Very good start, and I must say you have a nack for discriptions :nod:

I say that Larson should be cautious... Going out drunk is not too smart, he could easily be killed. So I voted the other option. We don't want anything to happen to out hero!

So, I'll be waiting for chapter 5 :nod: Wink
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PostPosted: Wed May 24, 2006 4:30 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 5

Sitting crouched behind the headboard of the big bed, he tried his best to shake the sleeping woman on the carpet from her drunken stupor.

“Hey. Hey, babe,” Larson whispered.

She failed to respond so he shook her a bit harder.

Finally rousing, she looked at him with blurry eyes.

“The back door. I need the back door,” The half elf explained.

Smiling a bit, she shuffled around and began to bend over.

Grabbing her hair and giving it a tug until she faced him once again, he made his displeasure obvious.

“Yes… but no! Not what I meant. I mean, not now! Like as in the way out,” The bounty killer continued, illustrating the words with his hands.

“Oh. Downstairs, hop the bar, down the wine cellar, left corner,” She informed him before nodding back off to sleep.

Kissing her lightly on the forehead, sure to not wake the exhausted woman again, he spoke in a hush, “Thanks, babe. A real lifesaver.”

Grabbing his twin tomahawks and his belt as he secured his boot knife, Larson struggled to remain silent and don his signature red cloak as he worked his way down the stairs that insisting on creaking much louder than he would have preferred.

Somehow, through some miracle, he made it down and into the foyer without being noticed, but that’s about when his luck became scarce.

The mercenary halted, stopping in his tracks as he heard his name called from across the dark room.

So much for stealing a swig from the tap, He mused.

“Where do you think you’re going, Mister?” The feminine voice inquired as it drifted across the room, followed not much later by smoke.

The first panicked thought to rush through the hero for hire’s head was that the place had already been set ablaze, but noticed just before when he would have soiled himself like a little girl that it was only in fact Kara, puffing away at her little pipe. A sigh of relief issued from his lips and he visibly relaxed.

“Nowhere fast, apparently,” He grumbled beneath his voice.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in town? Why didn’t you come to me first? I bet you were with those damn triplets again, weren’t you? I swear…”

Cutting in in the only way that he could think of that was guaranteed to shut her up, Larson kissed the woman deeply, eventually feeling her clam in his embrace. Drawing back, he looked deep into her eyes and smiled a bit.

“But…” She began, crinkling her nose a bit and warming up for round two, but luckily, Larson’s fast thinking saved them from an ugly fight on the spot.

“Cause it was gonna be a surprise, hun. Now you’ve gone and ruined it,” He explained, running his fingers through her silken hair.

“A sur…”

He cut her off again, “I ever tell you how much I love you? Well , I do. I love you. I love you with all my heart.”

A complete lie, Larson’s mind chastised him as he winced inwardly for using the one word that he would normally only refer to as “the crucifier.”

But these were desperate times and those called for desperate measures, such as telling a spurned woman that you loved her while in the back of your mind you couldn’t stand to be in the room with the nag for so much as one more second.

Her baby blues opened wide and she blinked, all teared up. “R… really?”

“Umm… Yeah. Sure, baby. I love you. I want to be with you. I want to spend my life with you and I want you to bear my children and all that other sentimental crap,” He spat out, getting impatient.

Seeing a questioning look for a second begin to spell its slow way across her pretty little face, Larson began to feel around in his many pockets for a solution. Smiling, he noticed the problem solver as he found it. Just the thing.

“You know what, sweetie? Since we’re like all officially together now and stuff, I’d like you to do me a favor.”

“What doll?” She asked, cocking her head to one side.

Pulling the spud from his cloak, Larson presented it to her with a great flourish and extrapolated, “I’m hungry as hell. Can you fix this for me?”

They say that that slap echoed for three territories, and you’d have been there, you probably would have believed it too.

Crying as she fled up the stairs, Kara pouted, “And that’s always you, Larson. You don’t love me! You don’t want children! You just want me to fix yer Goddamned dinner!”

Being finally alone, the rogue began to rub his stinging face and wonder if he’d perhaps made some sort of mistake. Maybe it was something he said.

Having no time for such useless thought, the warrior picked up his fallen potato and continued, leaping over the bar.

Stopping for just a second, he stole a quick sip of some of the better whiskey, and after the resulting goofy face, turned his attentions back to the task at hand.

A couple of grunts later and he was in the damp wine cellar. He cracked his tense neck a couple of times with a loud snap and creaked the old hatch to the street open.

Peeking up, he saw a strongman with his back turned to him. Sliding up from out of the cellar, he stayed close to the shadows, hiding until the time was right.

When he was right up behind the bastard, he pulled his boot knife and put it to the man’s throat.

“What?” The man began to mutter, but was cut off when Larson whispered coldly into his ear.

“Shut up. The situation here’s obvious, but your type usually aren’t that bright, so let me explain… slowly,” He intoned, his voice cold as ice, sounding almost a completely different person.

“I understand plenty well, heretic. I am your hostage, but trust me , you should go ahead and kill me. The Seven Sons never talk that easily,” The smiling henchman remarked.

“Who said I was going to kill you?” The half elf replied, pulling another dagger and holding it close to the hostage’s groin.

He almost smiled as he saw the sweat break out.

“What if I let you live? But in letting you live, I cut you in ways that would hurt more than you could ever imagine… much less make you useless.”

“You can’t do that…” The threatened one said.

“Really, now? Apparently you don’t know much about elves.”

“Like what?”

“Like I could gut you like a worm in such a way that would leave you alive for another three days, where dogs and little kids can play with it ‘till you beg me to you slit your throat,” The hunter spat.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Sounds like it hurts, don’t it?”

“Nothing compared to the hell Lord Vavrin will send me to if I betray my clan,” The assassin replied, puffing out his chest.

Snarling, the knife in his throat dug in a bit, bringing some crimson blood. “You don’t listen too good, you goat raping piece of donkey crap. Pay attention.’

‘When I’m done with you, the hell that filthy second rate shadow lord sets aside for you is gonna feel like heaven.”

“No. I don’t think you understand,” The hostage spoke mournfully as he made an awkward face and fell dead from a poison that he had hidden in his mouth.

“Hell,” Larson groaned as he put the daggers away and drew out the tomahawks.

Coming around the corner, he noticed one man in particular with a green lined tunic and long blonde hair tied in a top knot.

This man gave a curious look in his direction and looked as if he was about to start in Larson’s direction.

Clutching his weapons tight, his decision was taken out of his hands. How he played this thing out now rested on if that assassin had in fact seen him.
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PostPosted: Wed May 24, 2006 4:32 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Now we have a new chapter with a new D-Point.

What do you guys think? Did the thug see him or not?

Another thing to bear in mind... are the Seven Sons really just seven guys or is it in fact a name of some sort of symbolic or historical reference, not meant to be taken literally. Not the DP, but just something fun to discuss on that one.
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PostPosted: Wed May 24, 2006 4:41 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Quote:
Smiling a bit, she shuffled around and began to bend over.


Excellent line. Very Happy

I think yes, why not. He has seen him. Laughing
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PostPosted: Wed May 24, 2006 10:41 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Make it a 'yes'. Land him in the poo again Smile
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PostPosted: Thu May 25, 2006 1:36 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I thought he had been seen as well.

As for the Seven Sons, I expect they are only the religious head of the organisation, and they all have thousands of followers. Maybe one could represent each of the seven sons of a particular god or something.

Pr, it could be a group that always recruits the seventh son of each household. If they had a large enough selection base, then that would grow pretty quickly.
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PostPosted: Thu May 25, 2006 5:28 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well, I think the assassin would be pretty blind if he didn't see Larson.

I am thinking that the Seven Sons is just a name for a group. Whether or not it is has a theme to it, I am thinking not. I guess to them the name sounds sinister or something.

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PostPosted: Thu May 25, 2006 1:36 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I must agree with everyone else and say that he was in fact seen.
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PostPosted: Thu May 25, 2006 8:51 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I busted up laughing on that one, mate. LOL

Quote:
Hey. Hey, babe,” Larson whispered.

She failed to respond so he shook her a bit harder.

Finally rousing, she looked at him with blurry eyes.

“The back door. I need the back door,” The half elf explained.

Smiling a bit, she shuffled around and began to bend over.

Grabbing her hair and giving it a tug until she faced him once again, he made his displeasure obvious.

“Yes… but no! Not what I meant. I mean, not now! Like as in the way out,” The bounty killer continued, illustrating the words with his hands.


Oh my vote, is 'yes'.
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PostPosted: Thu May 25, 2006 11:59 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

LOL! LOL! LOL! Very Happy Very Happy Very Happy

THE BACK DOOR! LOL~~~~! Laughing

I agree with everyone else.
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PostPosted: Mon May 29, 2006 4:51 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Glad you guys all liked that little joke.

But now...

I'm about to put the poll up here in a second, so enjoy your voting.
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PostPosted: Mon May 29, 2006 1:37 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Voted yes - the same way I think everyone else is going to - and winning.
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PostPosted: Tue May 30, 2006 1:24 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Quote:
[...] don his signature red cloak as he worked his way down the stairs that insisting on creaking much louder than he would have preferred.


Donned.

Clamed --> Calmed. Etc.

Seems like we're all voting that way. Shocked But you like writing confrontations, don't you? :biggrin: Loved the way you made use of a seemingly useless potato too. Wink

The Seven Sons could be literal, though it might point to seven factions/ houses/ whatever. I mean, seven was a number that featured a lot in a few religions, almost as much as two and three.
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PostPosted: Tue May 30, 2006 2:47 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I have to say I'm not a fan of Decision Points where we're altering the plot, rather than choosing a protagonist's reaction. As such I've voted no, as I'm sure, given the choice, Larson wouldn't want to be seen.

Fun chapter though.

Happy Writing. Very Happy
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PostPosted: Wed May 31, 2006 2:53 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well you all know where I cast my ballot. Read the post if you don't remember.
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PostPosted: Thu Jun 01, 2006 1:06 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Voted for yes just cuz i wanted to read about larson's ass smashing karate moves...lol
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PostPosted: Sat Jun 10, 2006 8:15 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Looking forward to that next chapter, Jack. Wink
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PostPosted: Wed Jun 14, 2006 5:42 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 6

He looked the bastard right in the eyes.

He’d been made. This assassin was not dumb and knew what he’d just seen.

Raising a gloved hand, the demon worshipper readied to blow the whistle, but Larson was faster.

The half elf let fly with a tomahawk that sung straight and true, burying itself deep in the target’s chest.

He gasped a bit and slumped to his knees, black blood trickling onto the street.

Larson pumped his fist and celebrated with a small, “Hell yes!”

His victory was interrupted by the prodding of his back with a crossbow.

“And what have we here?” A rough voice asked just before clubbing him with the weapon’s butt and knocking him unconscious.

The assassins were loading their captive up onto the cart, tied with a burlap sack over his head, when the one to the right gave a peculiar groan and made an awkward face.

Sanzo almost asked his clansman if it was gas again, but he was stopped mid sentence as his companion teetered over like a tall tree, an arrow protruding from his back.

He dropped the bounty killer and dove under the buggy, hoping to avoid such a similar fate for himself. A wooden shaft whizzed over his head, giving him a good scare, but not taking off anything more vital than a few hairs.

“What’s goin’ on out there?” He called out, readying his crossbow, and winding it up with another bolt.

No one answered. He looked around a bit panicked and decided to blow the hail and cry.

He grasped the small whistle about his neck and blew hard. A shrill note pierced the air, followed by his own shouting.

“Brothers! Sons of the original Seven! To me!”

There was no answer.

“Trith? Hedorick? Leonti?”

Still nothing. And he knew that for sure Neith or Jakib wouldn’t answer the call. They were suffering from a slight case of death. That sort of thing prevented most people from doing much of anything.

He risked a peek out from underneath the transport to catch a glimpse at what he was up against.

It shocked him to see a very scantily clad woman puffing away calmly on a pipe, a quiver on her back and a short bow grasped in her flawlessly smooth hands. Her long hair billowed in the breeze and smoke poured from her mouth, like some sort of grim goddess of justice.

He ducked back beneath as another projectile thokked into the thick wood above his cranium.

“Hey, lady!”

She spat, drawing the pipe out for a bit. “Name’s Kara, turd.”

“Um… Right. Kara… Can we make a deal? I mean, all I want is this man. This outlaw. I’m sure we could arrange something…”

“No can do. What are you? Some kind of lawman?” She asked, notching another arrow.

“You could say that. I certainly do serve a sort of higher power…” Sanzo explained, trying his best to charm the angry prostitute.

“Well, you see, it ain’t changin’ a thing. Larson may be full of crap, but I love him. Can’t let him go anywhere,” She countered, adding, “Especially someone that wants nothin’ more than to see him hang offa the end of a long rope.”

He popped back around for a second.

“I have more than enough money…” He started, before being cut off by a whizzing shot that nearly trimmed off his moustache.

“Alright, then… Have it your way, lady,” The dark masked man whispered more to himself than anyone as he removed the sack from his belt and released the scarab.

Blinking, the insect shook itself to life and stared up at its master, big eyes reflecting him a thousand times in their kaleidoscope gaze and horn like antenna poised for instruction.

Using his link to the creature, Sanzo delivered his sinister orders and the bug burrowed deep into the dirt and scrambled toward its target. He flashed a crooked smile with yellowed teeth, until a flashing dagger blade dug deep into his exposed throat.

The assassin gulped and held his breath, not wishing to tempt fate or his assailant.

Larson, still half covered in rope and dripping blood from his busted forehead, called out to the lady on the steps, “Kara, see that lump in the ground?”

“What lump?”

“The one that’s movin’ right at you,” The aching half elf responded.

Noticing the foreboding skittering mound that wiggled slowly in her direction, the prostitute took aim.

“That one, babe?” She asked, exhaling smoke from the pipe.

“Yep. That’s the one. Shoot it for me, hun.”

“Anything for you, love,” His paramour replied, drawing the string and loosing an arrow.

The head pierced the writhing insect, which squealed like a stuck pig and exploded with a flamboyant flash of green flame and a small magical discharge that shot through the air like electricity and made the hair on their arms stand on end.

Using the distraction, the killer flipped Larson’s wrist and seized the weapon.

He now held it perilously close to the bounty killer’s throat.

It was the red cloaked swashbuckler’s turn to gulp, which he did.

“My masters would much rather have you alive, tribesman, but they’d be just as content with the Chosen dead,” The hooded menace threatened, spraying spittle.

Kara notched another arrow and the murderer spun around, holding her beloved in front of him as a shield.

“Yer good with the bow, wench. But I’d bet my bottom copper that you don’t possess the skill to take me without killin’ lover boy here too,” The smirking Sanzo commented as he leered from behind the wagon.

“Now, what I’m gonna do, is I’m goin’ to get up. Then, I’m walking to that horse, over yonder,” He explained with a jerk of his shadowed head.

“And then I guess you’ll be walking right out of here?” A new voice asked from his peripheral vision.

Grunting, the killer turned his head to view this challenger.

Larson breathed a sigh of relief to see his childhood friends, Roka and Ita, who had become known only as the Outcast after their rather bloody split from the tribe.

What perturbed him, however, was that Veru, Ita’s prized falcon that never left his side, was not present. Could the bird have died in the many years that had elapsed? He wondered.

He query was answered momentarily as the screaming bird swooped from the dark sky and dove into the dark man’s face, tearing with sharp talons and ripping with vicious beak.

Shouting, the man dropped his blade and tumbled to the ground under the vicious assault.

He was almost instantly punctured with an arrow from Kara and a throwing knife hurtled from Roka’s side.

The Outcast whistled and the bird of prey returned to his gloved hand. It nodded and cooed in satisfaction as it’s master stroked its shining head and handed it a bit of field mouse in reward.

Picking up his dropped blade, Larson trudged through the filth to the scoundrel, who lay on his back, shaking and fading fast. He muttered demonic prayers to the heathen king Aryeh Vavrin with his last breath in hope of reward in his lives to come.

“Can I have your attention please?” The rogue asked politely as he picked sludge from beneath his nails with the knife.

The heretic simply continued singing his praises in a perverted, twisted Archaic Elvish, a language used almost only by high priests of the religion of Larson’s mother.

Without even looking over his shoulder, the fighter called to Kara, “Honey, can you fetch me my belt?”

Roka reached it first and tossed it to the hunter, who caught it with outstretched hand.

“Ok… never once thought about callin’ you that, old friend, but whatever works…” He laughed as he dug deep in one of the many pouches.

Peering over his shoulder, Kara asked as she lit another pipe, “What are you doing?”

“Well… here we have two healing potions in two vials. One is green,” He extrapolated, raising the tube and shaking it a bit. “The one you’d want. It’s your run of the mill, ordained by the gods, with all the right blessing from the right clerics elixir. Relieves all the pain and ailments of almost any wound. Makes you a hundred percent again, almost instantly.”

Curiosity getting the better of her, the female had to ask, “And the other?”

“Well… I guess you could say it works, but…” He responded, trailing off into deep silence.

“But what?” The inquisitive lady asked.

Stepping forward, Roka said pretty much all that needed to be said.

“It hurts. A lot.”

The crimson cloaked killer cut in, adding, “It sure does, but we have to break him out of this trance he’s put himself in first.”

“How-” Kara begins to ask, but is promptly interrupted by the screams of the man as cold steel is driven deep into his internal organs and twisted slowly.

“Well, that certainly woke him up,” The Outcast observed as he spat a stream of kawa root juice from his packed lip.

“Now I just have to wonder which one you want to use on him…”

Looking down into his calloused hands, Larson thought about which to pour on the mortal wounds of this foe.

With green, he could perhaps gain the man’s trust and his knowledge of his foes, or it could simply be a case of taking a serpent into their midst.

Red would more than likely get what he wanted, but there was also the highly probable chance that it could drive him raving mad with the pain before he could make with the information.

Which elixir to administer ?

The man was slowly bleeding out and he didn’t have long to make a decision, so he had to make up his mind fast. Crouched down in a rapidly expanding puddle of burgundy blood, the adventurer pondered his situation.
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PostPosted: Wed Jun 14, 2006 5:45 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

So... folks. We now have Chapter Six of Larson's little adventures.

I'll be gone for a while and this may be the last bit that I get to do for a couple of weeks, but have no fear as I intend to return first chance I get.

Hope you all enjoy it and vote for it for SGOTM! Wink
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PostPosted: Wed Jun 14, 2006 10:30 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

These people are fanatics. You're not going to win them over with nicey-nicey tricks.

Given the slim chances of you getting any information at all out of him, you might as well use the less valuable healing potion on him and save the good one for possible use later.

Risk the madness, watch him writhe Very Happy
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PostPosted: Thu Jun 15, 2006 1:27 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I F5 Stoat, although i didn't realise she was so twisted.
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PostPosted: Thu Jun 15, 2006 5:25 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Oh Stoat is twisted alright. As twisty as they come in fact.

Nice chapter JD! I f5 the twisty one. No point going all nice on us now is there?
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PostPosted: Fri Jun 16, 2006 4:08 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Yep. PAIN! WE WANT IT AND WE WANT IT NOW! Mad
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PostPosted: Sat Jun 17, 2006 9:57 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Jack_D.Mented wrote:
[Grabbing his twin tomahawks and his belt as he secured his boot knife, Larson struggled to remain silent and don his signature red cloak as he worked his way down the stairs that insisting on creaking much louder than he would have preferred.


insisting=insisted


Lmao! Nice backdoor joke! hahaha
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PostPosted: Sat Jun 17, 2006 10:20 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I say that he uses the green elixer... Larson could use the information he gains... The Seven Sons seems like it could be a big threat to him, and why do they want him alive? There has to be something behind the leader of the Seven Sons wanting alive...
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PostPosted: Thu Jun 22, 2006 8:25 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Give him the green, if scoundrel does not want to play, he can always give him back to the falcon or his lady friend to play with.
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PostPosted: Thu Jun 22, 2006 3:07 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Not sure what F5 means but it most likely is translated as, "I agree." No?
I like this story, violent, gory and sometimes just plain ruthless. Your words have a certain...flow. Much like the rich bear furry thing's Narg the Nasty. Hey Chinaren, you remember me?
I look forward to the next chapter.
Make him scream and writhe(twist if you must).
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PostPosted: Tue Jun 27, 2006 7:37 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

F5 Starwalker. His idea has some merit to it. And it still has the opportunity to add some pain to the victim.
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PostPosted: Wed Jun 28, 2006 6:32 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Glad you like it, Shogun. I aim to please.

Poll should be up in a bit, folks. Vote away!!!
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PostPosted: Tue Jul 11, 2006 5:26 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Some more votes would be awesome.

I'd like to try to do somethin before I start workin twelve hours a day, six or seven days a week.
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PostPosted: Sun Aug 06, 2006 9:52 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

ok, so i read the chapter, nice work jack.. but dont really have the time to read the discussion.. so I voted pain.. cause thats just more fun.
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PostPosted: Fri Aug 25, 2006 5:59 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

The next chapter should be coming soon. I've been real busy with work, but I'll get it done soon.

If you look on the first page, you'll see where I got bored and did a little drawing of Larson. Hope yall like.
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PostPosted: Fri Aug 25, 2006 6:17 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Excellent. And...

Nice new av JDM.
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PostPosted: Fri Aug 25, 2006 4:48 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Question chin...what are you? Are you a bear, are you a monkey, are you a rich buisnessman who funded experiments gone horribly wrong...or do you live in China and eat ramen? lol, kidding.

To late to vote I think, but I'm a naturally anti-pacifist person so I would have voted to torture him and cut his fingers off, but whatever Mad
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PostPosted: Fri Aug 25, 2006 6:18 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Fenris wrote:
Question chin...what are you? Are you a bear, are you a monkey, are you a rich buisnessman who funded experiments gone horribly wrong...or do you live in China and eat ramen? lol, kidding.


Possibly all and none of the above. Wink 'ren' means person in Chinese. And yes, I live in China. Hence the name.

Sorry Jack, Off Topic
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PostPosted: Sun Sep 24, 2006 12:29 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Chapter 7

Larson pursed his chapped lips and, after a moment of quick consideration, made up his mind with only a minimal amount of difficulty.

He quoted his aged teacher on the issue as he uncorked the tube, whispering, “Go red and go red often, my son.”

Either it was the peculiar flickering of the street lights, or, Ita the Outcast had in fact registered this nearly silent utterance and recognized it as a direct echoing of Traust, their instructor, who during his time, had been known simply by the name of “The Good Man.”

The vial titled in his gloved hands, a blood red drop hovering upon the edge for one breathless second, and then, it tumbled from the precipice in what seemed to be slow motion. The crimson morsel landed upon the weeping wound with an audible hiss, impregnating the air with the reek of burning flesh as it slowly cauterized the wound and heinous magics began to stitch vital organs back together like a child’s puzzle, several times making a mistake and wrenching them apart to reevaluate the previous placement.

Shutters all down the street could be heard slamming shut as his tortured screams echoed from the stone walls. Nobody wanted to be a witness to this.

Clutching his burning gut, Sanzo rolled about like a carriage struck sewer rat, tears streaming down his unshaven face, leaving clear white streaks in his greasepaint covered visage.

Bending down, Roka stared deep into the wounded man’s eyes and laughed.

“Now that’s what I like to see from a devil worshipper.”

Although aching in pain, the assassin had enough presence of mind to spit a blood tinged phlegm at his foe.

It fell significantly short, however, and the tribesman laughed at the pathetic infidel.

Kara, who had seen her share of violence, nevertheless covered her eyes.

Larson, coughing a bit and clearing his throat, seized the villain by the pressure point in his elbow and rolled him over.

“I have questions, my friend. Many questions.”

Hacking and wheezing, the heretic responded, still defiant, “I… I… I will…”

The half elf simply smiled and twisted the cork a bit, letting the familiar odor of the burning chemical waft to his victim’s nostrils.

He could almost see the defeat in the man’s eyes as his will broke and he snapped, finally muttering, “I will tell you anything to make it stop.”

Roka, chortling a small bit, took hold of the assassin beneath the arms, and with the assistance of the Outcast, they lifted the criminal from the soaked street.

“A good idea. We may want a little privacy for this…” Larson agreed with a nod.

It was then that the unforeseen occurred.

The prisoner, completely helpless, groaning and voicing his apparent pain, suddenly went silent, his jaw slackening and his complexion fading to a sheet white much like a ghost. His eyes rolled far back in his head and he began to shake and spasm violently.

Almost instinctively, the two tribesmen dropped the convulsing murderer and stepped back, unsure of what was happening.

Sanzo began to teeter over, his legs useless and gelatin like as his knees buckled and the momentum of his movement carried him forward to the filthy sludge that constituted a street.

Roka nearly rushed forward to catch him, not willing to let such a valuable intelligence asset go to waste, but was stopped midstep by the steady hand of Larson, which grasped his shoulder firmly.

Before he had a chance to question such judgment, the wisdom of this action was exposed as the tumbling fanatic exploded in a towering pillar of green flame that illuminated the street like a festival rocket and died the skies themselves a sickly lime.

Turning away from the pyrotechnic wonder of godly might, the heroes had no choice but to shield their eyes or suffer instantaneous blindness, as those unfortunate enough to open their shutters at the wrong instant discovered.

After only but a few seconds, the light vanished, first dimming, and then finally, leaving no trace of its accursed existence or that of its victim other than the greasy smear upon the ground and the thin, ghostlike wisps of smoke.

The Outcast, running his gloved hand through his long, beaded hair asked in open surprise, “And what manner of deviltry is this?”

Larson, finally feeling secure enough to release his iron grip from Roka’s shoulder, had no answer, nor did the clansman that stood bewildered before him.

A female voice, the owner of which they’d almost completely forgotten, suddenly jolted the stone men back to life.

“It is the consequence of breaking a vow, a holy, or in this case, unholy vow. I’ve heard of it, but never truly beheld it for myself,” Kara explained.

“Oh. Hmm… I think I need a drink,” Larson replied.

“Me too,” Roka followed.

Veru, burying his beak deep in Ita’s massive shoulder chirped as he attempted to escape the unpleasant odors that clung to the area like a determined parasite.

The burn of the bourbon stung just enough to bring Larson’s razor sharp mind back to bearing, retrieving his mind from the dark depths of near panic and awe that had previously consumed him. He cracked his aching neck with an audible snap and looked deep into the faces of his companions as they awaited his next move.

Taking in a deep breath, the half elf , after weighing his options carefully, spoke.

“Right now, it seems as if that our wisest option would be to seek out this threat,” He proclaimed.

Roka nodded, agreeing, “Cut off this weed at its root.”

“Exactly.”

Kara, tossing her hair back with a huff, asked, “And how are we to know where it’s coming from? Do you think that perhaps the gods will just tell us directly? Send us a sign?”

Smiling, Larson replied, “Yep. Sure they will.”

Scrunching her beautiful features in a childish manner, she countered, “What?”

Hardly before she could spit the word completely out, the bounty killer produced a throwing dagger from within the folds of his cloak, and without so much as an aim or a look, let the blade fly toward a map mounted upon the wall.

It sank deep into the canvas and the oak behind with an audible twang, the hilt quivering a bit with the impact.

The rogue rose from his seat and moved across the room, drawing closer upon the atlas until he could clearly see that the knife had pierced the center of a burgeoning frontier town bordering the barbaric lands of the frozen north.

Placing a gloved finger upon the city, he proclaimed, “And the gods have made it clear unto me that we shall travel to Belvarr.”

He seized the weapon from the wall and restored it to its home within his clothing. Turning toward his friends, who all had been glancing over his shoulder in curiosity, the adventurer, gestured wide with his arms and made with a great smile.

“To your beds, friends. Rest well, for we leave at dawn!”

Before objections could be made, he’d bounded swiftly back up the stairs to his room and bolted shut the thick door. It wasn’t long before the telltale creaking of a lone mattress could be heard downstairs.

Roka and Ita, simply shaking their heads, made their way to the stables to make their beds upon bales of hay, as the trappings of Imperial “civilization” made them most uncomfortable.

Unnoticed, Kara poured herself another strong drink, and sobbed softly, trying her best to hold back the heartbroken tears that she knew would eventually come.

………………………..

“How does one eliminate a scoundrel?” Had been the question.

The response from the Master had been simply, “Use another scoundrel.”

The Servant, the wayward monk drew close his simply brown robes as he pushed through the swinging doors and penetrated a world that which he was wholly unused to…

A smoky tavern sprawled out before him, the reek of vomit, dark ale, hard liquors, and even a tinge of blood assaulted his incense pampered sinuses.

After some questions directed at a barkeep that seemed to be only half listening, he was finally provided with answers.

Yes, the one he sought had been here, and yes, he had been looking for work. But no, he wasn’t here now. His luck went sour at the dice room in the back and, rather than paying his outstanding debt, he’d killed his three opponents… with his bare hands.

The place to find him was the local jail.

Konrad awoke, his head throbbing, both from the strong spirits and the chair that had been broken over his skull in the process of taking him down.

To his surprise, just outside his bars, sat a monk, a holy man.

The pilgrim smiled beneath his hood and nodded in greeting.

The albino barbarian flicked back his braided white mane and grunted, “Who’re you?”

Instead of replying to the question asked, the little man posed yet another one in return.

Typical preacher, The berserker thought.

“You know that you’ll hang? They will kill you.”

Shrugging, the Northman made nonchalantly responded in his deep guttural accent, “They aren’t the first to try, they’ll surely not be the last.”

“You’re not sure of that, though.”

Damn their insightfulness, He cursed inwardly.

Turning on his heel, he demanded, “How about you cut to it, little man? I haven’t much time left and I’d just as assume not waste it on you.”

Konrad smiled as the holy man stammered for a second, his arrogance disrupted and the facade blown.

His composure was quickly gathered, however, and he, from seemingly nowhere, produced a key.

“I offer you your freedom, your weapons, and riches beyond imagining if you will but simply grant me one boon,” The robed one stated.

The platinum blonde tilted his head to the side, his interest piqued and asked, “And that would be?”

“Kill a man for me.”

“Well, stranger, I have slain but many men in my life. I’m sorry to say that you must be quite a bit more specific than that,” The rugged warrior fired back.

“His name is Larson…”
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PostPosted: Sun Sep 24, 2006 12:31 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Muhahaha!

I know, I know. It took me a while, but works been hectic...

Nevertheless... here's your new chapter to love and cherish and a new DP to mull over.

What does Konrad do?
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PostPosted: Mon Oct 09, 2006 11:12 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok... No responses thus far...

Come on people! Some poll options would be great!!!
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PostPosted: Mon Oct 09, 2006 11:40 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Hey Jack, just read this whole thing in preparation for drawing Larson Smile pretty cool, interesting characters... However this last DP dosn't look like there are many options. Konrad is already a killer, so it's no moral dilemma. If Larson were a friend of his or something it might be a hard choice. But as it is, he's obviously gonna take the deal. What's the alternative? Hope he can somehow escape hanging? pretend to take the deal then kill the holy man and run off, missing his chance at promissed riches? These don't seem very likely from what little I know of this character. Perhaps he should repent for his sins and go quietly to the gallows to die?

Very Happy
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PostPosted: Mon Oct 09, 2006 3:10 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Yes, sorry, missed this chapter. Seem to be doing that a lot lately.

Anyway, I f5 Argo. I don't really see any choice. Of course, (unless the monk puts one of those vows on him) he could always say yes and then run off.
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PostPosted: Mon Oct 09, 2006 3:17 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

He might want to ask some key details as well. For instance - who the Hell is Larson? springs to mind.
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PostPosted: Wed Oct 18, 2006 10:58 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Lordy has raised one hell of a good point. Very Happy Pardon the pun, hehe.

"Also, Who the hell are you?" might be a good one. Konrad might also be suspicious, for why would a holy man want someone killed? So something along the lines of why do you want him killed, or something that could reveal that would work well.
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PostPosted: Sun Oct 29, 2006 8:16 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ok... so what options do we want?

Ask questions?

Refuse?

Accept?

Lie?
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PostPosted: Wed Nov 15, 2006 10:10 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

CAn we have suicide as well? Very Happy
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PostPosted: Mon Nov 20, 2006 10:56 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

lol, I say we ask questions first...either that or kill the holy man.
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PostPosted: Fri Dec 01, 2006 2:05 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

The poll that has been forever coming is now here, friends.

So take advantage of it whilst you can and vote away!
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PostPosted: Sun Dec 03, 2006 6:01 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Question him, then stab him. Never stab a man offering you something without listening! Very Happy
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PostPosted: Mon Dec 18, 2006 5:24 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Voted for questioning the holy man.

After all, if i don't trust religion, why should Konrad? Wink
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PostPosted: Wed Jan 24, 2007 11:23 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Finally voted, lol.
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PostPosted: Tue May 22, 2007 6:43 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Well, I hate to say this guys, but Larson's gonna wait for a while. At least until Death is done.

Maybe sooner, but I'm just not feelin it right now.

Hopefully, I can pick it up right where I left off when I geel the urge again.

Thanks for your support and I hope to be back on this story soon.
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And then Konrad...
Kills the holy man?
12%
 12%  [ 1 ]
Accepts?
25%
 25%  [ 2 ]
Refuses?
0%
 0%  [ 0 ]
Questions?
62%
 62%  [ 5 ]
Total Votes : 8
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