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sheik
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 Posted: Sat Jan 08, 2011 5:14 pm Post subject: Suicide Short #1: Death |
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Suicide Short #1 Death
Written by Sheik
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"Let me tell you what we're dealing with gentleman...these are not your ordinary soldiers. LOS, special forces. I'll leave that to your imagination. Lance Corporal Slanith Jones and the recently acquired Lieutenant White, a transfer from the experiemental Makao division."
A straight laced, Gentryman bursts out, "Our government is sending Demons amongst our soldiers?!"
The commander's brow furrows, "Not demons, general. Merely unresearched specimens from an uncharted order."
One of the scientists drums his fingers on the desk, "So you know nothing about it. You've given a creature of nigh immeasurable power access to some of the most sophisticated euthansia equipment on the market and training rivaling that of the world's most established militia." He sighs, "At what point, Commander, did this seem like a good idea?"
The military man sniffs, before running a hand through his hair, "Well you see, we were going to put him in with the Psionist. So we could monitor and control him. There'd be no risk of defection, see?"
"Hmph, and we see how well Latrune turned out." The Gentryman adds with a snort.
"It wasn't a controlled environment! How the hell were we supposed to know about the natives?!"
"Is that not why we have I.S. division?"
The decorated veteran bites his tongue, his face now a distinct shade of magenta.
A minute passes, the tension hangs over the
"Zeke, you're awfully quiet for a recipient of 8 service medals. Surely you must have some pre-coordinated fail safe for situations like these?"
"Forced extraction, negotiation won't work with a dirt bag like Jones. We hit them where it hurts and let the chips fall in place."
The Gentryman rolls his eyes, "You have some sort of plan to lure them out of hiding? They could be halfway across the galaxy by now!"
"Silence fool! Let the old one speak." The scientist spits before gesturing for the Commander to continue.
Zeke nodded, "They're pirates right? It couldn't be more simple. Tangle a carrot and release the hounds. That greedy sum-bitch Jones can't help himself."
"Yes, yes. But we need the appropriate bait, can't be anything too extravagant or they may reject the offer." The scientist said while rubbing his temples.
"Why not the missionary ship?" The Gentryman piped up, offering his two cents.
The Scientist slurped his coffe, "Now I'm all for getting rid of evangelicals, but doesn't that seem a bit counter productive? Slanith and White'll butcher them in an instant."
"We'll replace the born agains with something far more appropriate. The Double Helix Elite, a step above the LOS." The Gentryman couldn't help but smile, tossing in that last jab at the general.
Zeke scoffed, "In name only. Those irradiated freakshows wouldn't make it past the front line. Air support'd roast them alive."
From there it dissolved into a spirited debate of the efficiencies of the two military branches, which the scientist ended by abruptly "spilling" his coffee on the two men.
"Any-way." The scientist said putting great emphasis on the word, "To business gentleman. We will buy out the rabid evangelicals and send them on their way. From there we shall leave a platoon of Helix aboard the ship with a legion of LOS lurking in close pursuit to cut off any chance of escape."
The general puffed out his chest as his head was filled with visions of awe-inspiring dog fights and Slanith's fiery death.
"Zeke! The meeting's over, get your shit and meet us at the Nebula." The Gentryman said while turning off the lights, plunging the room in inky darkness.
"Damn you haughty ass Gentrymen..." The general snarled as he tripped over the chair and scurried to meet the others.
The scene was a familar one, the charred and battle scared storage unit of the US Sago. Rumored to be the fastest merchant vessel of the Sago development line, commandeered not two months shy of its first run. 50 million, a state of the art cruiser, vanished off the map and into the laps of two small time renegade deserters of the esteemed LOS armada.
Collection attempts have been met with stout resistance, following a recent explosive crime spree that has left 20 dead in its wake. At the moment the two fugitives for planning their next mark, an attack on the merchant freighter, Neptune's Bounty. Slanith had done the research, it was being rented out to Human missionaries. Stocked to the brim with medicine and food, they were sure to make a killing hocking the stuff on the Black Market.
An estatic Slanith Jones sauntered into the room, trying to avoid putting much pressure on his cybornetic right leg. Pulling up a chair he affectionetly slapped Lieutenant White upside the head.
"This is it, kid. Time to make our point."
"First, I don't think..." The Lieutenant started, stoically sticking to the use of their assigned code names.
"That's right. You DON'T think. You leave that shit to me." The grizzled First said checking the safety of his Rifle. He really couldn't stand when Second started to punch loopholes in his plans.
"Now here's the plan kid. I'll take the ship and hammer down. They'll swarm me, leaving themselves wide open. You see smoke, that's your green light."
A standard rush & riot, it came as no news to the Majin at his side. A more studious warrior would have recognized it as Sun Tzuh's classic Pincer. But to the two thugs, it came as one of their oldest plays.
"Hey kid. Kid! I'm talking to you!" First yelled snapping his fingers.
"Hu-Wuzzat?" Second snaps to attention.
Whap! First slaps the Majin upside the head.
"Listen fool! We ain't gonna get a second chance. The pod's opening."
"First-"
"Here we go!"
"Wait!"
"Banzaiiiiii!" The Konatsu slams his fist onto the Release switch, Second screams as he is sucked into the depths of space!
While Second floats aimlessly, First's fingers are busy at the wheel. The Konatsu's putting his years as an LOS helmsman at work, calyst covered thumbs now an dingy blur. Flashing lights, the elastic Second lets his ki surge as he stretches himself to his very limit!
"Ye-ye-yeah!" The hyperactive humanoid chirps as his rubbery countenance bridges the rough mile of space between him and his prize. A dark red aura pools around his fist as it smashes through the merchant trade ship. "Come to Papa!" The dent widens, causing the vessel to slowly fold into itself. Inside the now smoking cockpit, First grins trying to silence the many alarms.
"Atta boy, Second...."
Retracting his arm, Second vaults himself to the crippled ship like a slingshot, eagerly eating up the great distance. No sound comes out of the Majin's mouth as he splats against the titanium shell like a fly on the dashboard.
"Something's trying to board!" One of the technicians shouts, reaching for his rifle.
"Focus on the damn ship you idiots! Do you know what'll happen if he hits the life support?!"
"C'moooon! Daddy needs a new set of Glocks!" First sends off a volley of heat seeking missiles after the ship.
Fireworks dot the sky as a multitude of Mutant fighters are reduced to dust and marrow. "Shields at fifteen percent." An automatronic voice pipes up.
"Bah, go to hell you piece of shit!" First snarls yanking the wheel in the other direction.
The burning craft, though on its last leg, responds beautifully, a testament to its Sago make. Whipping about at a bone breaking 600 g's First is pinned to his seat, as the ship flails out of control, managing to evade the brunt of the WTO's .300 caliber barrage.
Meanwhile Second has slipped past the first line of defense breaking his body down into an shapeless ooze and pooling into the miniscule cracks of the SS Cuirass. He focuses making sure not a single drop is spilled, sliding across the ceiling until holing up in a forgotten air vent.
"Stupid First." The Majin hissed, watching the scene unfold over the captain's comlog. "Stupid curse. I'll have to save him too..."
With the missile gambit played, First has ran out of options. What to do? Take the escape pod and pray that he can jettison to a random asteroid? Don an EVAC suit and go out swinging? The former mobster grips his daichi until his knuckles turn white. One shot, the ship, he could take them all out if he planned it right...
Meanwhile on the besieged Cuirass, Second is pooling his ki for the first strike. "Killi, killi, bob bomb!" The Majin kicks open the vent and dives at the unsuspecting Captain! Their reaction is instaneous, Second hadn't even managed to pass the door before he is filled with enough ki to power the Neo Nirvana.
"Shit..." The Majin whispered diverting his energy to fill the spreading holes covering his form. He hits the floor and pops back up throwing the table with him. Blasts rain but their Renzokou rush lacks the firepower to destroy the improvised titanium shield. The Majin's temple flares as he pushes with all his might, forcing the table towards the clustered soldiers with a fierce telekinetic blast!
"Duck and cover!" Two Mutants jump apart, Red & Blue no name races of some backwater planet, they crouch and fire three glowing orbs apiece at the miniscule elastic wonder.
Second summons his polymorphing powers again, cramming his essence into a ceiling bulkhead!
"Where'd he go?"
"What the hell?!"
"On the ceiling!"
"I don't see-"
Screeching like a banshee Second bursts from under the floor vent swallowing the Saiyan captain whole! Astonished gasps, and a timid scream break the heavy tension. Soon the air is thick with the pungent scent of sweat and charred meat.
On the outside, First's dogfight is getting worse. Two fighter's are on his tail, "Can't see a damn thing with all this smoke. COM, release the hose!"
"Hose engaged....system malfunction. Hull is in critical condition. All remaining power is being diverted to power shields."
"What? N-no!" First's grim mask has been replaced with that of horror, "COM reverse that order! I need my engines!"
The whirring of the enemy ships, he can hear them clearly now.
"Incoming transmission. Sender: LOS."
"No fucking way..."
"Well, well, exile First we meet again." A very familiar Half-breed's ugly mug pulls up onscreen.
"Dammit, of all the rotten luck. It had to be you!" First spits slamming his hand on the sparking console.
"Honestly, you didn't think you were going to get away did you? I mean, where were you going to hide? I have the entire force of the LOS at my control, the means to sweep away an entire galaxy at my beck and call! Oh and, don't try any of those crack heroics. We have you surrounded. You can either go back to Solitary and await the gestation or be incinerated by laser fire. Your choice."
"Parley."
"Not an option, I'm afraid." The gentryman fiddles with the joystick, finger hover a bright red button.
"I'm exorcising my right of passage. As a former LOS, I demand Parley."
"Men, on my command." Ezekiel Gray, commander of the LOS armada and asshat in chief, allows a sly grin to cross his features.
"Zeke!" The bastard was enjoying this...
"Ready..."
"After all I've done for you.."
"Aim...." Zeke's grin broadens, he waggles his eyebrows at the redfaced swordsman.
"You owe me you little shit! Wouldn't be nothin' without me and Second!"
Zeke smiles as his finger hovers over the button, "And with that threat gone, I have the potential to become ANYTHING...."
Click.
First dives for the radio, "Second, get away from the ship! Whatever you do, don't engage- BZZRT!"
Second's blue Tsuihidan was quickly swallowed by the horde of bodies that tackled him to the ground. "Mother!" Even his curses were muffled as the clumsy genetic rejects kicked him into submission. The Majin lashed out, twisted, and bit, but it seemed every swing was rebuked by four more! Tearing off a sub-human's arm, the Makao succeeded in beating off two of his attackers before he found himself on the receiving end of a very nasty Eraser Gun.
"Gorp!" The last of the iridiscent beam washed over him, leaving a smolering stump in its wake. Second trembled for a half second before the lower form beheaded a sputtering Mutant with a roundhouse kick!
"Fuck, what is this guy?!"
"Shoot him again!" Another screamed brandishing his massive Zat cannon.
Second's leg whipped out an impossibly long heeldrop that split the titanium table in one go! Mr. Blue slid forward on both knees forcing a massive beam from his internal reserve. Second leaps backward, spewing meaty chucks of Majin as his upper torso seemingly pops out of the shriveled stump.
Now whole, a fuming Second lands in the center of the Mutant mosh pit, wielding two shards of the broken table. The misfits hesistate for a minute, as if actually considering thier chances of survival. Death at the hands of some alien, or facing the wrath of the wretched LOS warlord?
Second never waited for their answer, lunging forward he embeds the titanium chunk into a humanoid's skull! Bouncing from that staggering mess, he severs another's arm with a well placed swing. Slinging the blade like a deranged gardener Second manages to thin the enemies ranks, but he's still outnumbered four to one. And the bastards don't seem exhausted in the least.
Panting like an overworked Siberian husky, Second shrieks as his forelock comes to life and fires a pink beam at one of the mutants! Poof. The next, there's a chocolate chip cookie sitting in his place. Like lightning Second's arm shoots out and retracts popping the sugary confection into his mouth.
"W-what?"
"It ate him..."
A rush of power flows through the Majin's body, steam starts emitting from every pore!
"Hurry up before he morphs!" The mutants start funneling ki with the intention of a renzokou session, but they are quickly interrupted.
"Gentleman. And spawn of Satan. Please divert your attention to the southernmost window."
The men pause and obey the voice, against their own ambition. So unexpected, so commanding, there was only one who could inspire that fear in men...
Hunks of metal and flaming rubble punctuate the inky blackness. Second drops his blade to the floor, "First?" The child like demigod asks, voice cracking with emotion.
"Don't fret. You'll be joining him in a minute."
Second snaps to attention, a vermillion whirlwind erupts at his feet! Coalescing energy, 60....80%.
The monster lunges for the door, knocking aside Mutant and Gentry alike. Galeforce winds whip about his frame, dissuading further intervention from those unaffected by the earlier technique. Straining under the pressure, the Majin forces still more adrenaline into his veins, the chemical cocktail clocking him at over 15 miles per hour.
Feet pound the gun metal tiling, the writhing wounded, and multicolored power readings along the walls, all a blur. Chest, lungs, legs, his body screamed in agony; but he couldn't stop yet. Not here, not now! Tunnel vision, nothing else existed save for the single escape hatch door. He could make it out just at the end of the hall....twenty more feet and he was home free. "Hooooome Free!" The Majin screamed as he wrenched open the sterling double doors.
Bump. Bump. Bump. Bump. The next few moments passed in slow motion. Second had rushed onto the loading bay, quickly boarding a forgotten escape pod. Right hand hammering all the control as he strapped himself in, foregoing a dozen security checks. Didn't matter, nothing mattered, he only had a few seconds before- Click. Too late.
The hangar was filled with a rumbling drone as the vacuum seal was broken and they were exposed to the frigid air. Second gasps, an alien raspy note, floating before him is the massive LOS drop ship and its fully primed planet eating Eraser Gun.
"C'est la fie." Zeke whispered as his thumb covered the firing mechanism.
The energy from LOS' final attack, it was ubearable. The battle cruiser's 100% laser had enough force to level a planet. One can imagine what it did to the merchant freighter. An asteroid field is being generous, the site of First's murder was essentially atomized.
The creature looked up, with rapidly deteroiating black eyes, saw its dashed and ashen limbs. Was that his arm...or leg? He didn't anymore. A white hot pain, absolutely searing tore into his body. He wondered, what would happen now? The stories never said what happened to a fallen Majin. No soul, was there even a place for one such as him?
Bump, bump. The beating of his hideous heart.
High pitched screams as a thousand daggers puncture his chest.
Bump, bump. Wracking sobs as the blue death continues its descent.
Last thoughts, what would have happened if he'd never hopped the fence?
Taken the wizened Elf man's hand, embarking on this lunatic's quest for breasts and crystal meth,
Something special Second guessed,
He'd never really know.
Now...as the blue light washed over him, he'd finally go home....
_________________
"Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever."
-Napoleon Bonaparte
"Faster than those who are better than me and better than those who are faster than me."
"You've got a wishbone where your backbone should've grown..."
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Thunderbird
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| Posted: Sun Jan 09, 2011 10:40 am Post subject: |
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Wow... that was... quite interesting. I must admit I was lost as to what was going on during some parts and I think it was the fast and furious perspective changes that led to that more than anything. Didn't 'get' it all, I guess. But what I DID think I understood was quite entertaining and some of the imagery was absolutely up my alley.
I'd love to see you try a Storygame here. I know its been a bit slow of late, ever since the holidays, but we ARE here... just lurking is all.
Welcome to IF btw! A great start here. I take it this was meant to be a standalone?
_________________
      
 CHAPTER 25: Near-Light Speed (NEW CHAPTER! (12/4/2011))
Zephyrrr! And...  
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PopeAlessandrosXVIII
Arts and Poetry Mod
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| Posted: Tue Jan 11, 2011 5:30 pm Post subject: Yah-hoo! |
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YAY! Welcome fellow Anime fan! I'm lovin' this DBZ slider! Poor Majin... But, can even the vacume of space kill such an unstoppable foce? I can't wait to see!
Welcome to IF dear friend, I hope to see many good things from you!
_________________
To Be A Knight
And my first Finished work Death Day
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sheik
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| Posted: Sat Jan 29, 2011 5:55 pm Post subject: |
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Suicide Short #2: A Budding J, Summit of Hate for the Stick-up Kid
Written by Sheik
(I'm trying something new. Hoping this conversation will produce imagery powerful enough for the reader to visualize what I had in mind. But then again, a little background never hurts!)
A pair of no account drifters pause to survey the sorry state of their current generation.
Aspar, recognized Idol and regular vigilante waging a one woman war against the surging inner city gangs. She is supplied with weapons from the corrupt and largely defunct government that has been reduced to a fragment of sleeper cells. The gentleman's agreement that holds millions of unemployed's citizens future in the balance is reworded and reworked every other day, much to the geomancer's displeasure.
Jay, a Hell spawned arms dealer that is currently sporting a bounty of $500,000 for evading police capture and murdering an undercover operative. Unlike Aspar he thrives in the new environment and wishes all the worst for the "federation of failures". Despite Aspar's many attempts to sway his opinion he remains steadfast in his beliefs, and a regular thorn in her side.
Sam, also known as Sammy, a literal figment of the remnants of the good ol' US of A, a weatherbeaten gaunt giant that is working to rebuild his empire. Unfortunately in the after math of humanity's greatest relapse, a trigger happy nuclear war, subsequent betrayals on every former ally, he is finding it quite hard to garner support. The people, if you can even call them that, have turned a blind eye to the law and resorted to looting for survival. Decadent and impoverished do not even begin to describe the cesspool that was once DC. There, only anarchy remains in the former cradle of pomp and flash.
----------------------------------------------
J walks up the side of the unfinished Shame Point bridge, amidst the sparking felled power-lines and gutted cars. He finds a red-haired bony battered lass spread out along a shattered windshield, dutifully puffing away on a fag.
The demon can hardly believe his luck, “Aspar the hero.”
He pauses a moment, hand resting on the holster of his automatic. They were technically at war. But standing here on hallowed ground, the hellspawn found he wanted to say a lot more than some witty rhyme. J swallows before letting the question roll out of his mouth.
“Let's be honest though. What you think Sammy do with all that cash flow?”
He treads lightly, as if walking on eggshells, he wasn't sure how deeply affiliated with the giant she was. Taking silence as the go ahead, the demonic showman continues egging it on,
“Rig shows, snort blow, screaming go while racking up ho's?”
“NO!” A single syllable, she wouldn't so much as look at him.
J takes a breath in, perhaps now he'll try a little tact.
“Those goons from Round 5'll be back again,
told yo dumb ass not to take 'em as friends.
When you let 'em all in,
a message that sends,
to every kingpin residin' in the den of sin.”
“MEN!” It seems he'd struck a nerve. Aspar had hopped off the pile of scrap and was bee-lining straight towards him!
“Can't ever trust them,
Remember Lem?
Knocked you out cold and jacked ya Benz?
Stop lookin' through them cherry lenses.”
She sniffed, and gave him a glare that could freeze soda.
“And lay off da incense.”
The two of them sit there a moment, watching a grizzled black man in a white double breasted suit hobble towards his low rider.
“ Yo mista Simms!” Her voice causes the paranormal to jump out of his skin.
“Bitch, what you want?” The now blue transparent snake tosses over his non-existent shoulder as he struggles to climb back down the vessel's mouth.
Spar paid him no mind, choosing to voice her accusations even louder.
“Why you always gotta stop and flaunt blood money copped from Round 5's old haunt?”
Simms-snake junior, now safely inside his human shell, rests his hand on the car door.
“NOT! Dis is from setting up shop,
cashin' in on my crop,
and skimmin' just a little bit off da top.”
A wide eyed red J cuts in, beaming with pride.
“FLOP! Dis time was wasted,
shoulda stayed at the joint and kept on bakin'.”
The diminutive magician snorts as she raises herself on tipped toe in an attempt to see eye-to-eye.
“Nigga, why you hatin'?”
J leers, cupping his nuts. “Cuz ya bitch still at my pad waitin'.”
Aspar rolls her eyes, “Don't know why, you know the bitch skeezin'.”
“Fuck that shit, I never stopped believin'!
'Specially iff'n nobody's ever seen it,
Never stop, even after I drop wheezin'.”
Still the same iron-clad resolve, even after she'd explained the snake bitch's philandering ways, it seemed to confirm that things would never change.
“Keep appeasin' dem demi-digital devils,
yo soul gone end up like dat ol' tea kettle!
And when dem angels come to settle,
they'll jump at the chance to snag a fuckin' medal,
YA DIG?
Remember every bitch nigga gets his day.
When the freaks crawl out and come to play.
Pedos and rambo's end up back on the streets anyway.
Running around, paroozin' the town, seems these fools will never slow down.
HEY!
Gotta pray they'll learn eventually.
Finally see it never paid to be greedy,
And when he walk out debt free,
Maybe, just maybe, he'll find the strength to get over me.
Leaving me free as can be,
to part the Red Sea,
brew my green tea,
and fuckz with my ladies.
No mo',
leavin' me wincin' with skinned knees
bruised and bleeding,
screaming, under da stars
cryin' so hard.”
The red-skin watches the girl start to shake.
“Shoulda left his drunk ass, you FUCKING RETARD!
Never forget the shit that happened last May.
Dat fool still schemin' to skull fuck you with his last play,
Doubt spurred on by shades of gray,
Stupid motherfucker done lost his way.
Comin' from the school of pray & spray,
Where ''gimme da money'' is all they can say,
You think a stint in prison is the only price you'll pay?
The reason we fell,
Christ compells,
Somehow against all logic you tell
and single-handedly sell-”
Aspar gags, “God! What's that smell?”
A wry chuckle from J, “That'd be your scrawny ass, burnin' in hell.
Aided swiftly by liberal application of tonic and gel,
supplied as always by faggot ass Mel.
Aspar takes a drag on the dwindling cancer stick slab, “Yay or nay?”
“Little bastard won't even stop and say hey.
Half tempted to throw out a job for Ray.
Sick of playin' charades.
'Bout ready to let the SMG rain on his parade.”
“Stop. That ain't our way.
Put the gat down and do as I say.
Don't bother calling Ray,
That double-dealin' fucker Mel will have his day.”
“But what about our pay?”
“Chill motherfucker, chill!
I gots someplace to stay.
We hold on to our heads and everything will be okay,
Someday...”
_________________
"Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever."
-Napoleon Bonaparte
"Faster than those who are better than me and better than those who are faster than me."
"You've got a wishbone where your backbone should've grown..."
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PopeAlessandrosXVIII
Arts and Poetry Mod
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| Posted: Mon Jan 31, 2011 11:37 am Post subject: ... |
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............I try hard to keep an open mind when it comes to artistic expression.............And I think I do a decent job.............And after that first chapter, I was really looking forward to what you'd come up with next.......But I have to be honest.
To me, in my oppinion, that, was not in any way a story. Im my eyes, that was a freelance rap with small breaks in the flow in a desperate attempt to make it LOOK like a story. I will openly admit, besides a few choise peices, I hate rap in all it's depraved forms. What you have here is interesting, but was very hard to enjoy with that irritating beat in the back of my mind. I think, and this is prolly just me, you should go back through, and if not convert the enless chatter into full sentances, then at least ADD some sentances in between the repetetive bounce of the fast talk.
Other then that, I gotta know, do you actually know anyone who slings raps back and forth to hold a conversation? I'd really like to see it, it actually sounds fun to watch. I'm not being sarcastic. Please look over your work and find a way to make it less of a statement to your taste in music, and more a story that we all can enjoy. I am in no way trying to condem your work, I'm just trying to help you understand that this is a place to tell stories, not sing.
I hope that I in no way offended you, and pray you'll continue your work here in the city.
_________________
To Be A Knight
And my first Finished work Death Day
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Thunderbird
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| Posted: Mon Jan 31, 2011 6:47 pm Post subject: |
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Pope... lol
I don't know if I agree with Pope here or not. It would maybe have been nice for the non-dialogue to break from the rhyme but otherwise, this is fascinating in a sense. (I actually like some rap... sorry Pope  ) That said, its extremely difficult to follow the story when you're getting lost in the rap. And I'm not quite sure what we're seeing here... is this their way of dueling peacefully?
_________________
CHAPTER 25: Near-Light Speed (NEW CHAPTER! (12/4/2011))
Zephyrrr! And...
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| Posted: Tue Feb 01, 2011 1:27 am Post subject: Eh |
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I like "Some" rap too. The ones that make sense, have a halfway decent beat, and have nothing to do with gang-banging or supposed getto life. I like the ones that are ment to entertain, not make a statement. That said, I must admite, 90% of the rap I like are spoofs  . 90% of most of the rap I hear is the same regurgitated, over used, drek I hear day in and day out from numbskulls who are doing their best the vibrate all the bolts in thier car off. Send me a decent rap love song. Or one about a nice place you've been to. That's what I call entertaining.
Don't get me wrong, I love dark and dirty as much as the next heavy metal fan, but the second the song swings into "How many bi**hes I've done who've screwed me over" I see no reason to continue listening. Music is an art, and even Death Metal dumboes can get that concept on occasion. Sorry for the little speech, it's just, music is somthing I have a passion for, and I love it in most of it's forms. So it really bothers me when some rapper comes out and makes a song where; every other line makes no sense (But it rhymes, yay! *Face Palm*), the beat is that of a sledge hammer on a trash can, and the lyrics are 99.99999% the same as some OTHER rapper who wrote a "song" a week ago.
I am in no way implying that what I said above has anything to do with this last chapter. The chapter made sense...mostly, and as I said, it was only the friggan beat pounding in my ears that made reading it difficult. With chapter one being as it is, and then the shocking chapter two, I can wait to see the suprize for the next chapter! Keep up the good work!
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To Be A Knight
And my first Finished work Death Day
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sheik
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| Posted: Tue Mar 22, 2011 11:31 pm Post subject: |
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Suicide Short #3: "Darkness"
Written by Sheik
I apologize for the terrible condition of my writing. You see, it is very difficult for me. I am of the Moduun, and as such have terrible vision. To make matters worse, I am of the Baq clan. This means that I am destined to have extremely poor vision, by other races standards I am legally blind. Luckily thanks to the infinite graciousness of the gods, my remaining senses are powerful enough to make up for this loss. For instance, my sense of smell is over a thousand times more potent than that of man. I have ears which can rival a dog's, being able to sense vibrations from over two miles away.
So you see, I am not entirely helpless. In the land of Moduun we Baq are held in esteem for our ability to function in the outside world. Many of the other clans are unable to leave the mines on account of their conditions. Some cannot speak, like my sister Kri. Because she's mute many make the mistake that she is dumb, a common mistake especially among humans. This usually angers her enough that she has nothing to do with this person and they miss out on the opportunity of making use of her many talents. Unlike most Moduun Kri was born with perfect vision, she can see leagues away! The rich come to make use of her wondrous eyes, some in the pursuit of treasure, others wanting her to stalk soldiers.
It is dangerous work, but she is skilled enough to handle herself. Sometimes I am allowed to accompany her, but only when they do not lead into enemy territory. She worries that I may be hurt, that my extraordinary senses will not be a match for their eyesight. To this I scoff, but I pay heed to her warnings anyway. She has wisdom beyond her age.
At birth all Moduun are able to see fairly well, it is the combined long hours in the tunnels and mines and toil of subterranean life which rob us of our eyesight. The elders worry that we may evolve so our offspring has no eyes at all. Though it wouldn't mean much to us because the majority of our populace has no need to see, it would definitely bother the other races.
We would not be able to roam freely on the surface world and would be persecuted. Though we face this on a small scale it is nothing we cannot handle. Every so often a few children disappear once a year and some wise guy thinks it a good idea to lay bombs in our tunnels. We generally try not to excite ourselves over such matters, but this does not sit well with everyone. Some believe the only way to make these attacks stop is to give the surface dwellers a taste of their own medicine. Mudoon who think this way are known as Sarapi, or ones who fight. They allow their claws to speak for them.
The Sarapi make up a mild minority of Mudoon, mostly youth, but their numbers are growing as are the intensity of the attacks. We Baq do what we can to keep the peace between the races acting as the middle men between exchanges and lookouts for traders. Because of our tendency to wind up defending the surface dwellers the Sarapi view us as traitors to our kin and clash with us whenever possible. I am not a violent individual and generally try to avoid unnecessary conflict; life in the mines is difficult enough.
I remember one time when a Sarapi chieftain, Typhon, attacked my sister because she would allow him access to her stash of beetles. Beetles are considered a rare delicacy among Mudoon, they are rich in nutrients, juices, and are quite tasty though their supply is scarce. Typhon demanded she relinquish the beetle nest or face consequences. Kri, proud Baq that she is, refused. As a chief Typhon was not used to confrontation, and acted irrationally.
Lunging at her he tackled her to the floor and began to slash wildly with his claws. Caught off guard by the viciousness of the attack, Kri was not able to respond instantly and was scratched up pretty bad before she could start making use of her fangs.
I was just waking from a brief siesta and had been on my way to the mines when I heard the commotion. Thinking it nothing more than a petty squabble between a misguided Sarapi and poor Baq I ignored it. But when I still heard the sounds of battle several minutes later I became worried and decided to look into this matter. Even though it was none of my business I could not stand by and allow a youth to be injured in such a way.
Coming upon the burrow of the defendant the scent of blood filled the chamber. Then I heard my sister's cries. I lost all self control then and cast away the laws of the elders. I did not care that I would be punished for using lethal force, my sister needed me!
Charging into the room I latched onto the back of Typhon, sank my teeth into his shoulder and started shredding his back with my claws. He roared in fury, not expecting to be attacked from behind. Because he is larger, he was easily able throw me off. Landing on the floor I rolled to my feet and reset my stance, readying myself for a second round. Seeing me as the more dangerous threat he abandoned Kri and turned to face me, just as I hoped he would.
Kri had hesitated a few seconds wondering if I would be able to handle such a foe. Turning I roared for her to leave immediately, I did not want her to see what I was about to do. She did not leave but I did not have time to contemplate such matters, Typhon was starting the attack! We met each other suspended in the air, and then as we rolled about on the dirt floor we slashed with tooth and claw. The battle was fierce; our cries could be heard throughout the catacombs, outside a crowd gathered.
They began to cheer and rant, everything else was drowned out. All I could hear were shouts of “Kill the filthy Baq!”
“Rip his eyes out!”
“Atta boy Padfoot!”
All the noise was making it difficult for me to focus on the battle. I couldn't differentiate between the sounds of Typhon's feet or the stomping of the hectic crowd. I began to second guess myself, even lashing out at poor lady Grey at one point, something I still regret to this day. This change in efficiency was not missed by Typhon who began to memorize and time my motions.
My claws began to hit air more frequently and I felt the rake of Typhon's razor sharp nails in my sides. I stumbled over a root and hit the ground, prompting a gasp from the crowd, Typhon laughs in delight. He prepares the traditional Sarapi ceremonial kill. A headbutt, followed by a swift double kick to the chest, when we land he shall leap upon my chest, tear open my throat and laugh. To add insult to injury he will probably force my sister into some sick, twisted barbaric ritual his kin practices.
I roll and push off the wall with wobbly feet. Twisting my body I turn and thrust with my claws. I am slightly off in my judgment and end up only grazing his jugular; unfortunately it is not enough to tear the vein. His skull meets mine with a hideous crack; I am thrown backward and fall on my back, disoriented. Typhon mounts me kneeing me in the chest as he does so, the full 178 pounds cutting off my oxygen.
He raises his arm, the crowd cheers, my sister screams; it comes down at break neck speed, I turn my head in a feeble attempt to protect my neck. This move saved my life; his prominent nail only ends up delivering a serious gash along my temple. The second blow however, does much more damage, tearing the skin and ripping into the bone, nearly severing my shoulder.
Here it comes, the dreaded third slash. This one is sure to finish the job. I grit my teeth and close my eyes, a final attempt to save my life. Both arms shoot up, thrusting into his stomach; my hands are covered in blood. He doubles over cursing, unable to complete the motion he opts to strangle me instead.
I am too weak to fight him off, cannot remove any of his organs, too much blood has been lost. I cannot breathe, my heart pounds so very loudly, I can hear his as well, screaming for retribution, he does not want his life to end either.
A Voice filled with power and authority cuts through the massive din, “Cease this madness at once!”
Typhon ignores the elder Malakai, and applies more pressure to my windpipe. I try to pull back my arms so I can plunge them in again with more force but my arms do not move. It is as if they are frozen.
“Move, move dammit! If I must die then I will take him with me!” I screech in my mind, frustrated with the weakness of my body. Suddenly there is movement, a hot breeze rushes past my face. An unholy shriek, a surprised gasp, muffled thump, and silence.
The others tell me I had fallen unconscious. They tell me my sister had stepped in at the last minute and in a fit of rage, incapacitated Typhon with a flying kick. They'd never seen anything like it; Typhon had been completely caught off guard
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I smile, “Yeah. That's Kri for you, a deceptively powerful little firecracker.” I sink back further in my bed of kaliptus leaves.
I would not be able to work in the mines for some time. Would Kri be able to handle the extra work? She had been wounded in the battle as well. I hail one of the passerbys and ask of Typhon, was he in intensive care as well? The answer was yes, but the Sarapi have ceased all anti-Baq activities ever since they got the news.
An unofficial ceasefire until both leaders recover, better than nothing I suppose. Perhaps when I recover I'll ask Typhon if we can cease the fighting altogether.
During the battle I know I changed his opinion of Baqs, the only thing is whether it’s enough. I suppose we'll find out in two months time, once we're released. And if not, then I'll just have to kick his sorry Sarapi ass all over again. For now though, I'm content to sit back and enjoy the not-so-excellent medical treatment we Moduun have to offer.
_________________
"Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever."
-Napoleon Bonaparte
"Faster than those who are better than me and better than those who are faster than me."
"You've got a wishbone where your backbone should've grown..."
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Thunderbird
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| Posted: Wed Mar 23, 2011 8:27 am Post subject: |
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I'm starting to get the picture that all of these tales are just short stories you're posting that are not intended to be construed as various chapters in a larger plot.
That said, I liked this. My one critique would be that it struggled with the tense in some ways - action in a 1st person past-past tense is a little jarring because the sort of words you'd use in an action scene tend to make you feel in the moment with it.
But given how you framed the story, it worked so it really just FELT odd and probably wasn't grammatically incorrect in any way.
I'm not sure how to picture your character's race but the emotional content and the suggestive descriptions did keep me enthralled in the reading throughout.
_________________
CHAPTER 25: Near-Light Speed (NEW CHAPTER! (12/4/2011))
Zephyrrr! And...
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sheik
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| Posted: Fri May 06, 2011 8:55 am Post subject: |
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Suicide Short #4: "Sprinting Down Memory Lane"
Written by Sheik
I am not from here, this is not my home.
This place of pink rabbits with chairs made of styrofoam,
No reason to bitch and moan,
Its only on loan.
Got a bad hand dealt this game.
If only we'd learned to embrace His flame.
To our shame, seems all we do is bicker and complain.
Why I gotta shuffle in so-and-so's fame?
How I'm gone shine with that ish on my brain?
Got a lot to maintain,
Tryin' to stay sane,
My shrink is so fucking lame!
It would help if I wasn't so vain,
Maybe I'd actually try sticking in my lane.
Wouldn't be so eager to step out of my frame,
Not dropping any names, but fire-crotch didn't
have to go leave me in the rain.
Betrayal.
The kinda pain that waxes and never wanes.
_________________
"Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever."
-Napoleon Bonaparte
"Faster than those who are better than me and better than those who are faster than me."
"You've got a wishbone where your backbone should've grown..."
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Thunderbird
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PopeAlessandrosXVIII
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| Posted: Mon May 09, 2011 3:08 am Post subject: I think..... |
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Oki, on number 3 there, I got a good visual of human sized meerkats. It was a funny thing to picture, but I liked it....
As for number 4........Decent, but I think as far as the rhyming goes, either all the end word sould have rhymed, or the ryme should have changed for the last secton. The swap out was...jarring.
Good work, can't wait to see more!
_________________
To Be A Knight
And my first Finished work Death Day
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sheik
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| Posted: Tue Jun 28, 2011 8:12 pm Post subject: |
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Suicide Short #5 "The Shaw"
We are the Shaw, native brother to the Squaw!
20 years ago we saw, blazing trails held us in awe.
Suckerpunched 'til we were raw,
Shoved into their gaping maw,
Another victim of Eventide law,
Rise up, defy this paltry flaw,
Fly now, pass on our desperate caw!
_________________
"Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever."
-Napoleon Bonaparte
"Faster than those who are better than me and better than those who are faster than me."
"You've got a wishbone where your backbone should've grown..."
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sheik
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| Posted: Tue Jun 28, 2011 8:19 pm Post subject: |
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Suicide Short #6 "The Anthem"
Oh March!
They think they're oh-so-smart,
Beddin' with devils, and carvin' out hearts,
tellin' the future with charts!
Never were a greater upstart,
Puttin' their faith in the rampart,
Loadin' our children in their cart,
Sendin' them off to the slave mart,
Shaw offers you our last fart!
_________________
"Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever."
-Napoleon Bonaparte
"Faster than those who are better than me and better than those who are faster than me."
"You've got a wishbone where your backbone should've grown..."
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Thunderbird
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sheik
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| Posted: Sun Jul 24, 2011 9:23 am Post subject: |
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Suicide Short #7 "Untouched"
Written by Sheik
Thrown to the floor, skull smashed in, sucked dry.
Haunted always by the terrific cry.
A wondrous rush followed by the engulfing hush.
Never enough, not even after da third puff.
But I digress, the place really has been left a mess.
Floors, doors, headless whores, an evened score,
So says Pop.
Hop down from the stairs and embrace me.
This is the life, can you not see?
All is lost in the haze of red, three wild swipes and Pop lies dead.
Poor Fred, the woman says.
Scale the wall and pop your meds,
Ducking the cops, the spry girl fled.
“More trouble!” The lemming shouts before diving in its bed.
_________________
"Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever."
-Napoleon Bonaparte
"Faster than those who are better than me and better than those who are faster than me."
"You've got a wishbone where your backbone should've grown..."
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Thunderbird
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| Posted: Sun Jul 24, 2011 12:38 pm Post subject: |
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Some clever wordplay going on here.
Makes for an entertaining read but I must say I hope I wasn't supposed to walk away from it with a particular concept in mind that the whole may have been intended to convey - it seemed more like some neat and intriguingly worded random statements than a cohesive whole. Still.. I liked it nevertheless. Perhaps all the moreso because it seemed to disarm the logical side of the mind.
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CHAPTER 25: Near-Light Speed (NEW CHAPTER! (12/4/2011))
Zephyrrr! And...
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Vikas Muralidharan
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| Posted: Mon Jul 25, 2011 8:30 am Post subject: |
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Rap's good. 
When Eminem dies, The only rapper who makes raps with some sense dies. In other words, true Rap dies 
Lol... off topic. Im liking this so far... 
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Vikas Muralidharan
Be sure to read HATE in Romance section
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