...fffffffff
why are you so good
it's giving me an inferiority complex
like
look at that guy
look at how much better he writes than me
Originally Posted by HarMegidon
I just am asking why she is selling sausages at a funeral.
Originally Posted by inexpediency
Everyone is a hedgehog...on the inside.
Originally Posted by Tesseract
On a deadness scale of normal to doorknob I would rate her as double doorknob
Originally Posted by Jitka
fuck yeah sodium hexametaphosphate
that is my favorite hexametaphosphate
Malakin:because its actually the truman show just with ponys
crash826:that
crash826:makes
crash826:far too much sense
gingerale:xD
Malakin:think about it
Malakin:it all makes sense
Originally Posted by Catbread
Those sound like some pretty badass park rangers.
Originally Posted by ranasan
Wow... it's like if someone managed to manifest Missingno. from Pokemon Red and Blue into the real world, grind it up into a fine powder and then snort it.
18:21 Girard so I learned something at the barber:
18:22 Daniel ?
18:22 Girard The entirety of England, London in particular, is actually a stage for the biggest production of the musical Oliver ever made.
18:22 Girard England is a giant musical.
18:22 Girard This explains the small children with cockney accents and giant hats who dance in the streets.
18:23 Daniel ...DAMN YOU MARY POPPINS!
18:23 Daniel DAMN YOU TO HELL!
Oh my, you did it and every bit of it is wonderful. Following Nepeta's reactions to everyone else was a great way to see it. The way she holds herself as intended near Kanaya, slips off into her normal personality the minute she's with Equius, where she's comfortable, and Karkat where she'd like to be. And how she talks to Terezi like the long-distance friends they are, how she's furious at Vriska and discovers the joy of Eridan in under fifteen seconds. I wonder where Kanaya got off to in those last few scenes? Anyway, I would love to read more of this, if you have any more, and if you don't this is still a good ending for it!
@crash: Pff, are you crazy, dude? Everyone in this thread is excellent at writing. I honestly don't know why you guys put up with my lame science fiction prose when you could have wily or sarasvati spouting gold at you instead, but I am still very flattered. <3
@Skaian: This was stupidly fun to write and I seriously have to thank you for that pesterlog inspiration. XD I have no idea why I was intimidated by writing Nepeta before. She is too adorable. Kanaya was probably making sure Vriska wasn't making any more of an idiot of herself. This is all I have, but I'm glad you enjoyed it (and if you want to write more yourself, by all means).
This was incredible. I love the idea of fancy troll parties, you nailed the whole tomboy-dress up feeling and Nepeta was adorable. We're those shades of Karkat Nepeta reciprocity? Awesome.
Originally Posted by lantadyme
@crash: I honestly don't know why you guys put up with my lame science fiction prose when you could have wily or sarasvati spouting gold at you instead, but I am still very flattered.
Listen, you! You're great! Don't make us drag you into the Self-Esteem-Boosting Writing Admiration Circle of Death Battle Royale Duel of the Century. Seriously, this is an mindbogglingly talented group, here.
"'Cause these humans treat humans like humans treat hogs
They get used up, coughed up, and fried in a pan
But I wasn't born to die like a dog,
I was born to die just like a man."
Fanfiction on AO3: Walking Far from Home | Dethstuck
JADE
(spoken) dearest darlingest becsprite and (grand)popsical:
KARKAT
(spoken) MY DEAR CRABDAD:
BOTH
There's been some confusion
over timelines here in Sburb:
KARKAT
BUT OF COURSE, I'LL SAVE OUR ASSES.
JADE
but of course, i'll care for my friends!
BOTH
For I know that's how you'd want me to respond.
Yes, there's been some confusion
for you see, my ally is:
JADE
unusually and exceedingly peculiar
and altogether quite impossible to describe...
KARKAT
HUMAN.
JADE
what is this feeling
so sudden and new?
KARKAT
I FELT THE MOMENT
I LAID EYES ON YOU?
JADE
my pulse is rushing...
KARKAT
MY HEAD IS REELING...
JADE
my face is flushing...
BOTH
What is this feeling?
Fervid as a flame,
does it have a name?
Yes!
Loathing!
Unadulterated loathing!
JADE
for your face...
KARKAT
YOUR VOICE...
JADE
your clothing...
BOTH
Let's just say - I loathe it all!
Ev'ry little trait, however small
makes my very flesh begin to crawl
with simple utter loathing;
there's a strange exhilaration
in such total detestation -
it's so pure, so strong!
Though I do admit it came on fast
still I do believe that it can last
and I will be loathing,
loathing you
my whole life long!
KIDS
Dear Jade Harley, you are just too good!
How do you stand it? I don't think I could!
He's an asshole! He's a Tartar!
We don't mean to show a bias,
but Jade Harley, you're a martyr!
JADE
well these things are sent to try us!
KIDS
Poor Jade Harley, forced to allow
for someone so frustratingly loud
We all just want to tell you:
We're all on your side!
We share your...
JADE AND KARKAT
What is this feeling (Loathing!)
so sudden and new? (Unadulterated loathing!)
I felt the moment (For his face, his voice,)
I laid eyes on you? (his clothing!)
My pulse is rushing, (Let's just say:)
my head is reeling, (we loathe it all!)
oh, what is this feeling? (Ev'ry little trait however small)
Does it have a name? (makes our very flesh)
Yes... (begin to crawl.)
Ahhh... (Ahhh...)
ALL
Loathing!
JADE AND KARKAT
There's a strange exhilaration (Loathing)
in such total detestation (Loathing)
so pure, so strong (Loathing)
KIDS
So strong!
JADE AND KARKAT
Though I do admit it came on fast
still I do believe that it can last...
And I will be loathing (loathing)
for forever loathing (loathing)
truly deeply loathing you (loathing)
my whole (loathing)
life long!
KIDS
Loathing!
Unadulterated loathing!
KARKAT
BOO!
JADE
ahhh!
Slightly Altered Version: by crash826, edited from inexpediency's
JADE
(spoken) dearest darlingest becsprite and (grand)popsical:
KARKAT
(spoken) MY DEAR CRABDAD:
BOTH
There's been some confusion
over timelines here in Sburb:
KARKAT
BUT OF COURSE, I'LL SAVE OUR ASSES.
JADE
but of course, i'll care for my friends!
BOTH
For I know that's how you'd want me to respond.
Yes, there's been some confusion
for you see, my ally is:
JADE
unusually and exceedingly peculiar
and altogether quite impossible to describe...
KARKAT
HUMAN.
JADE
what is this feeling
so sudden and new?
KARKAT
I FELT THE MOMENT
I LAID EYES ON YOU?
JADE
my pulse is rushing...
KARKAT
MY THINKPAN'S REELING...
JADE
my face is flushing...
BOTH
What is this feeling?
Fervid as a flame,
does it have a name?
Yes!
Loathing!
Unadulterated loathing!
JADE
for your face...
KARKAT
YOUR VOICE...
JADE
your clothing...
BOTH
Let's just say - I loathe it all!
Ev'ry little trait, however small
makes my very flesh begin to crawl
with simple utter loathing;
there's a strange exhilaration
JADE
in such total detestation -
KARKAT
in kismetic detestation -
BOTH
It's so pure, so strooooong!
Though I do admit it came on fast
still I do believe that it can last
and I will be loathing,
loathing you
my whole life long!
KIDS
Dear Jade Harley, you are just too good!
How do you stand it? I don't think I could!
He's an asshole! He's a Tartar!
We don't mean to show a bias,
but Jade Harley, you're a martyr!
JADE
well the trolls all try to try us!
KIDS
Poor Jade Harley, forced to allow
for someone so frustratingly loud
We weren't sure, but we assure:
We're on your side noooow!
We share your...
JADE AND KARKAT
What is this feeling (Loathing!)
so sudden and new? (Unadulterated loathing!)
I felt the moment (For his face, his voice,)
I laid eyes on you? (his clothing!)
My pulse is rushing, (Let's just say:)
my head is/THINKPAN'S reeling, (we loathe it all!)
oh, what is this feeling? (Ev'ry little trait however small)
Does it have a name? (makes our very flesh)
Yes... (begin to crawl.)
Ahhh... (Ahhh...)
ALL
Loathing!
JADE AND KARKAT
There's a strange exhilaration (Loathing)
in such total/KISMETIC detestation (Loathing)
so pure, so strong (Loathing)
EQUIUS:
D--> So STRONG!
JADE AND KARKAT
Though I do admit it came on fast
still I do believe that it can last...
And I will be loathing (loathing)
for forever loathing (loathing)
truly deeply/BLACKLY loathing you (loathing)
my whole (loathing)
life long!
KIDS
Loathing!
Unadulterated loathing!
KARKAT
BOO!
JADE
ahhh!
At the start I'm picturing Nepeta slinking off to unhappily canonize Jade x Karkat, when suddenly:
LOATHING!
:33< huh?
UNADULTERATED LOATHING!
:33< ...yesssssss
for your face!
YOUR VOICE!
your clothing!
:33< gotta go up-date~
I LOATHE IT ALL!
:33< my shipping wall!
I just am asking why she is selling sausages at a funeral.
Originally Posted by inexpediency
Everyone is a hedgehog...on the inside.
Originally Posted by Tesseract
On a deadness scale of normal to doorknob I would rate her as double doorknob
Originally Posted by Jitka
fuck yeah sodium hexametaphosphate
that is my favorite hexametaphosphate
Malakin:because its actually the truman show just with ponys
crash826:that
crash826:makes
crash826:far too much sense
gingerale:xD
Malakin:think about it
Malakin:it all makes sense
Originally Posted by Catbread
Those sound like some pretty badass park rangers.
Originally Posted by ranasan
Wow... it's like if someone managed to manifest Missingno. from Pokemon Red and Blue into the real world, grind it up into a fine powder and then snort it.
18:21 Girard so I learned something at the barber:
18:22 Daniel ?
18:22 Girard The entirety of England, London in particular, is actually a stage for the biggest production of the musical Oliver ever made.
18:22 Girard England is a giant musical.
18:22 Girard This explains the small children with cockney accents and giant hats who dance in the streets.
18:23 Daniel ...DAMN YOU MARY POPPINS!
18:23 Daniel DAMN YOU TO HELL!
I think it’s part of the game program. Yes, it applies to the players as much as to the constructs. In truth, the players ARE constructs as well. Yet both they, their guardians, and normal beings that observe them never seem to notice. Like some obvious fact is missed because it’s so obvious. I wonder if it would hit them if someone other then myself pointed it out...I doubt it. Such truths are what we naturally shy away from.
What am I speaking of you ask? Well, as an outside observer I see things about both players and guardians that no one else ever does. Though they don’t seem to comprehend it, normal humans do not have a Sylladex to carry items in. In fact, you could check the entire world and never find anyone with one. Yet players have them, and talk about them with other players like it was nothing at all. They even have books explaining such things, but can never recall how they got them.
Normal kids can’t level up. A normal girl can’t kill an ogre by jumping on it, ramming knitting needles into it’s eyes, and riding it down into the water...nor a normal girl have the bravery and lack of empathy to do so on the first try. Perfectly white skin doesn’t exist in nature. Nor does red eyes, or pure white hair. The guardians are no different. They too are ALMOST human, but not quite. They all seem too blank, too one-dimensional. Like something was missing.
The truth is as simple as it is horrifying. They don’t look quite human because they are NOT human. Rather, they are constructs shaped in the likeness of humanity. Fledgling gods sown among mortals, awaiting their trial. It is the same thing among trolls. No troll has skin that light shade of gray, or horns that color. Yet no one ever noticed.
I think that when they stand before me...and I know they will, destiny has a way of doing such things...I will tell them. Tell them that the race they think the represent died out with their worlds. Tell them how unusual it is that they brushed off the death of their entire race, almost as if they were not connected to it in any way. Tell them that they are already well on their way to being as monstrous as I am, because it’s coded into them.
The only thing I haven’t decided...is if I’ll let them finish gaping in horror at the truth before I butcher them.
Writing:
Bulletproof: Vriska is a lot more vulnerable and remorseful than anyone would suspect, she just doesn't let anyone see that. My Best Friends: Nepeta makes a sacrifice, and reflects on her life in her final moments. I Am Not Like You: The moment when you can no longer hide from your own sins is always painful. Vriska learns this when Eriden becomes her mirror.
I think it’s part of the game program. Yes, it applies to the players as much as to the constructs. In truth, the players ARE constructs as well. Yet both they, their guardians, and normal beings that observe them never seem to notice. Like some obvious fact is missed because it’s so obvious. I wonder if it would hit them if someone other then myself pointed it out...I doubt it. Such truths are what we naturally shy away from.
What am I speaking of you ask? Well, as an outside observer I see things about both players and guardians that no one else ever does. Though they don’t seem to comprehend it, normal humans do not have a Sylladex to carry items in. In fact, you could check the entire world and never find anyone with one. Yet players have them, and talk about them with other players like it was nothing at all. They even have books explaining such things, but can never recall how they got them.
Normal kids can’t level up. A normal girl can’t kill an ogre by jumping on it, ramming knitting needles into it’s eyes, and riding it down into the water...nor a normal girl have the bravery and lack of empathy to do so on the first try. Perfectly white skin doesn’t exist in nature. Nor does red eyes, or pure white hair. The guardians are no different. They too are ALMOST human, but not quite. They all seem too blank, too one-dimensional. Like something was missing.
The truth is as simple as it is horrifying. They don’t look quite human because they are NOT human. Rather, they are constructs shaped in the likeness of humanity. Fledgling gods sown among mortals, awaiting their trial. It is the same thing among trolls. No troll has skin that light shade of gray, or horns that color. Yet no one ever noticed.
I think that when they stand before me...and I know they will, destiny has a way of doing such things...I will tell them. Tell them that the race they think the represent died out with their worlds. Tell them how unusual it is that they brushed off the death of their entire race, almost as if they were not connected to it in any way. Tell them that they are already well on their way to being as monstrous as I am, because it’s coded into them.
The only thing I haven’t decided...is if I’ll let them finish gaping in horror at the truth before I butcher them.
And I was going to get some sleep tonight, too. Silly me.
I like the idea (though I think we've seen a few people who aren't constructs that look and act like constructs) because on the one hand this is what lovecraftian horrors are, merciless and conniving, but on the other hand I don't interpret the kids as really "[brushing] off the death of their entire race" (John still talks about his actors in the present tense!) so it's a very different picture than what my headcanon is.
Don't take me wrong, I still hate you because I'm already sleep deprived.
Last edited by Mirdan; 03-29-2011 at 02:55 AM.
"like trying to explain the flavour of chocolate to a rock"
The inside of the warehouse is completely dark, save for two rows of skylights that let in moonlight. The green moon gives one wall two rows of narrow green light, while the purple moon gives scattered illumination to the stock currently sitting in the warehouse, and the paths between and around it. It’s a maze. It’s completely impossible to find a way through. Which is why Problem Sleuth is currently wandering around it as fast as possible, learning how to get around without getting lost.
The warehouse door slides open. “is this the place” He hears Spades Slick ask. Problem Sleuth wanders until he can get a good look. The Midnight Crew is standing in the doorway. The orange glow of Diamonds Droog’s cigarette and four black blotches darker than everything else around them are the only indication it’s them.
“I saw Problem Sleuth go in here.” The glow brightens, then dims, “Not sure if it’s where the Sapphire is.”
“IT WOULD BE AWFULLY HARD TO FIND THE SAPPHIRE OF ALTERNIA HERE WITH ALL THE LIGHTS OUT, EVEN IF SLEUTH KNEW WHERE IT WAS!” Clubs Deuce says. Then he gasps. “SLICK, I DON’T THINK IT’S HERE. I THINK THIS MIGHT BE A TRAP!”
Sleuth hears Diamonds Droog sigh. “DID YA JUST FIGURE THAT OUT NOW” Boxcars bellows. “OF COURSE ITS A TRAP YOU EMPTY HEADED RUNT”
“well were not gonna find it without getting sleuth and were sure as fuck not gonna let the felt get to him first” Slick says. “deuce start rigging the place to blow. well need an exit on the other side”
Deuce’s silhouette happily skips out of view.
“droog boxcars” Slick addresses. “lets nab us some hardboiled jackass”
Droog clears his throat.
“and what the fuck do you want you got a problem with my plan”
“No, the plan’s fine, given what we’re dealing with. I just don’t think you should’ve said it out loud.” The glow brightens and dims quickly. It then drops to the floor and gets extinguished. “They’re listening.”
“its not like they can do anything about it even if they do know” Slick says. “lets go and would it kill ya stop ruining it for me when i try and sound like a fearsome mobster once in a while”
The three remaining black blotches disappear into the warehouse. Problem Sleuth looks up at the catwalk.
Pickle Inspector: Signal Problem Sleuth.
Using a series of complicated hand signals that you taught both Problem Sleuth and Ace Dick during the long planning session leading up to your presence here at this warehouse, you inform Problem Sleuth that Hearts Boxcars is taking the left path through the warehouse and will likely intercept Problem Sleuth if Sleuth does not leave the area immediately. You also tell him that Spades Slick will be vulnerable very soon as he will be in a location that will prevent Diamonds Droog from giving him covering fire and Hearts Boxcars will not be able to rush to his aid in a timely enough manner.
You are certain Problem Sleuth understood all that because he gave you a nod. You smile to yourself. The plan is working perfectly.
Pickle Inspector waves his hands around like an idiot. Problem Sleuth nods without understanding anything that Pickle Inspector was trying to tell him.
Problem Sleuth begins wandering through the warehouse aimlessly, looking for Spades Slick. When he finds him, he’s going to repay Slick back for everything he’s ever done to Sleuth. It probably won’t be too gruesome. Problem Sleuth isn’t going to torture him or anything. At worst he’ll just shoot Spades Slick in the back. For once Problem Sleuth is going to have the drop on Spades Slick and he isn’t going to let that opportunity go to waste.
Problem Sleuth hears the sounds of a car pulling up to the warehouse door echo through the building. The doors open and slam shut.
“Fin, what’s going on? The door’s open already.” Problem Sleuth recognizes the deep raspy voice of Quarters.
“I don’t know.” Fin’s voice echoes.
“Is this where the Sapphire is?”
“Maybe.” Fin answers hesitantly. “We’re about to get in a shootout with the Midnight Crew, and Problem Sleuth and the rest of those hardboiled jokers get involved somehow. We’re not going to start shooting each other for nothing, so it could be in here. But there’s too many future trails to tell what’s really going on.”
Someone giggles. Clover.
“So it’s a trap.” Quarters says.
“Probably. But if the Sapphire of Alternia is in here we don’t really have a choice not to go in.” Fin says. “And because we’re going to anyway, but we’ve got to get to it before Spades Slick does.”
“What are we waiting for then? Let’s kill us some mobsters.”
“We should wait for Crowbar to get here.” Fin says. “Not that we’re going to.”
Pickle Inspector: Take shot.
The crack of a sniper rifle firing several times echoes throughout the warehouse.
“Shit!” Fin shouts. “Where’s that coming from?”
“Dammit, Fin, I coulda used some warning!” Quarters yells. “This hurts like a son of a bitch!”
“What? You can take it.”
Problem Sleuth looks up at the catwalk for the warehouse. Pickle Inspector looks down at him and shakes his head.
==>
0/2 GREEN TAILS PERMANENTLY SHOOK. SHAKEN. DEALT WITH
1/? OPPORTUNITIES COMPLETELY WASTED
Pickle Inspector notices something down below and starts firing in the same direction. He starts walking backwards, silenced rifle fire sparking and ricocheting off the catwalk and the ceiling but coming from no clear direction.
Well, this is going about as well as expected. Problem Sleuth ditches finding Spades Slick and instead starts wandering to the entrance, hoping to catch Fin and take him out. That’s who they really need to get rid of, him and Trace. The Felt would be completely lost if they didn’t have those two to help them find people, which is exactly what Problem Sleuth needs to happen if he’s going to have any chance of grabbing the Sapphire of Alternia.
Problem Sleuth turns a corner in the maze of stacked crates and stops dead in his tracks. Purple moonlight runs smoothly over Hearts Boxcars because Problem Sleuth swears he’s not moving in that shadow. He’s got a black poleax in his hands and for all Sleuth knows of mythology Hearts Boxcars looks like an angel of death. Only when he notices Sleuth does he drop out of his glide and look like he’s actually walking.
==>
Or maybe you’re just terrified of Hearts Boxcars. None of this angel crap. What even is an angel anyway? One of those dumb things that loser kid kept killing. And if that loser kid can do it, so can you.
Maybe if you keep telling yourself that you won’t be terrified of Hearts Boxcars.
Sleuth pulls out his key ring. Problem Sleuth fires a quick burst of fire at Hearts Boxcars from the hip. With a twirl of his of poleax he deflects the fire away. Sleuth’s jaw clenches. He knows the Midnight Crew can do that sort of thing, but to see it in action is something else.
Hearts Boxcars, with a loud grunt, swings the poleax at neck level. Sleuth ducks quickly. The poleax smashes into a crate and sends splinters out onto the floor. Boxcars pulls it out of the crate and swings it down from overhead. Problem Sleuth leaps backward, the poleax smashing into the concrete floor. Sleuth readies his tommy gun as he steps backward.
Problem Sleuth backs into a crate as an incredibly heavy and deadly playing card flies past and just misses Sleuth’s head, embedding itself deep into the crate. Sleuth glances quickly at the giant hole in the crate and returns his gaze to Boxcars to see him lunging towards Sleuth, hands outstretched.
Sleuth tries to get a shot off but Boxcars grabs the tommy gun and bends its barrel upward.
==>
No! Not your key ring!
One of the keys is bent now. It’s completely unusable. Not even replacing the bent key with one of your many spares is going to fix it.
Boxcars grabs Sleuth by the front of his shirt and lifts him off the ground. He pulls his fist back for a punch. Sleuth throws everything he has into a right hook aimed at Boxcars’ nose. Sleuth hears a sick crunch, but Boxcars’ grip holds firm. Sleuth throws everything he has into a left hook aimed at Boxcars’ nose. Sleuth hears a sick crunch in the other direction. Boxcars lets go of Sleuth while bellowing in painful rage.
“Inspector!” Problem Sleuth shouts. “I need help with Boxcars!” Problem Sleuth puts his bent key ring into his pocket and pulls out a key. He dashes through the maze of crates and stock, hoping to shake Hearts Boxcars.
“AWW” Boxcars bellows. “YOU CRYIN TO YOUR MOMMY YOU LITTLE WIMP” He seems angrier than usual. Now why is that? The Midnight Crew should work on their anger issues at some point.
Sleuth doesn’t hear a response. “Inspector!” Sleuth shouts again. Nothing still. Sleuth continues to run through the maze.
“WHERE ARE YA SLEUTH” Boxcars screams. “ILL BREAK YOUR TINY LITTLE NECK AND BEAT YOU AGAINST THE WALL LIKE A RAG DOLL UNTIL YOUR HEAD RIPS OFF”
Problem Sleuth makes his way through the maze as quickly and quietly as he can. He’s lost Boxcars for the moment. He looks up at the catwalk. Pickle Inspector is in a fierce shooting match with somebody he can only assume to be Diamonds Droog. Pickle Inspector is holding his own, for the moment. It explains why he’s not answering Sleuth, but that’s something that’s going to need to be dealt with soon. But how?
“Dick!” Sleuth shouts. No answer from Dick either. Damn.
Problem Sleuth continues wandering through the maze. He cautiously turns several corners, key ready to fire a few rounds at a moment’s notice. The Felt have been lying low, which is far too smart of them. It’s either Fin knowing the future or Clover’s luck keeping them away from Sleuth right now.
Problem Sleuth turns another corner and sees Spades Slick swiping at Ace Dick. Problem Sleuth grins.
“Problem Sleuth!” Ace Dick shouts and glances.
==>
1/? SNEAK ATTACKS RUINED
2/? OPPORTUNITIES COMPLETELY WASTED
1/3 MEMBERS OF TEAM SLEUTH BEING TOTAL IDIOTS
Slick turns and throws a few knives and cards at Sleuth. Sleuth fires a few shots as he sidesteps. The cards and knives thud into the wall of crates behind Sleuth. Slick rushes at Sleuth, Rapier Wit ready to slay Sleuth with a timely one-liner.
“hate to stick it to ya” Slick shouts. “no goddammit thats fucking awful”
Sleuth pockets his empty key and pulls out his keyring. Slick thrusts but Sleuth deflects it upward with his bent tommygun. Sleuth steps to his right but nearly trips. His coat is pinned to the wall by a playing card.
“it looks like you” Slick says, pausing for effect. “stuck around too long”
“Slick, that’s terrible.” Sleuth says. A quick swipe at Sleuth’s neck gets blocked by the tommy gun.
“fuck you” Slick shouts, a haphazard vertical swing getting blocked easily by the tommy gun. “you think you can do better”
“I could come up with better one-liners with my back against the wall.” Sleuth smirks.
Slick growls.
“Look, Slick. Sometimes,” Sleuth pulls the card out of his coat. “You gotta play your cards right.” He suddenly swings the knife around to Slick’s neck.
Spades Slick pulls his neck back just in time. Sleuth follows up by smashing the butt of the tommy gun into Slick’s face. Stunned, Slick stumbles backwards into a crate.
Sleuth looks at Dick, who’s standing there, fists raised, ready to help in the fight somehow. “Real smooth, Dick, letting Slick know I was behind him.” Sleuth scolds.
“Whatever, Sleuth. I coulda taken him on my own.”
Slick rushes back at Sleuth, swaying to the side before finally shaking off the effects of the blow to his face. “that was just as fucking terrible as mine” Slick shouts, more offended about the one-liner than the blow to the face. He reaches for Sleuth’s bent tommy gun with one hand and aims a knife at Sleuth’s throat with the other.
Sleuth grabs the hand holding Slick’s knife and deflects it to his left. It peels off a thin ribbon of Sleuth’s carapace as it misses his neck. Sleuth drops his bent key ring and gives Slick a good punch to the gut.
Ace Dick is still just standing there. “Are you gonna help out at all?” Sleuth asks as Slick tries to remove blood flow to critical internal organs.
Ace Dick shakes his head from side to side. “I can’t find a good opening.”
Problem Sleuth wraps Spades Slick’s knife in his coat sleeve and yanks it away. Spades Slick pulls two cards out to compensate. “Go help out Inspector. He’s got his hands full with Diamonds Droog.” Problem Sleuth shouts.
“But what about Slick?”
“stop talking about me like im not here” Slick swipes at Sleuth’s chest. Sleuth jumps back. “dick” He stresses.
“I’m already fighting him by myself. I don’t need spectators.” Sleuth steps up and sweeps up his bent key ring into his hands. Sleuth backpedals, blocking quick swipes with his useless gun.
Dick shrugs. “I don’t like being ignored in a fight anyway.” He leaves into the maze of crates.
“bad move sleuth” Slick trades a knife for a longsword. “shouldve kept him around to stop your blood from soaking into the floor when you end up with a knife through your chest” Slick swings his sword wide. Sleuth blocks it with the bent tommy gun and twists his torso, avoiding the follow up from Slick’s offhand knife.
“But if I’m dead I can’t tell you where the Sapphire of Alternia is.” Sleuth says with a smirk. He swings the tommy gun like a club. It slides off Slick’s sword.
“you think i give shit about that”
Sleuth grins. “You’d be sad if you killed me.”
“wanna bet” Slick shouts as he thrusts with his sword. Sleuth leaps backwards and starts backpedaling through the maze of crates, giving ground to Slick’s furious assault.
Sleuth hears the sounds of a car pull up. He turns to the noise. Sleuth and Slick have managed to fight their way to the front entrance. Sleuth can see the lights of the car, but not who’s driving.
Problem Sleuth: Duck!
Before Problem Sleuth hears the whoosh of the sword he’s ducking down. Or that’s the way it seemed anyway. He turns his head back to Slick. He’s lunged too far forward, hoping to use Sleuth’s distraction to deliver a killing blow. Sleuth simply smashes the butt of his bent tommy gun into Slick’s chin.
Slick takes a stunned step backward and Sleuth swings his tommy gun like a club at the side of Slick’s head, knocking his hat clear off. Slick falls over to the ground. Problem Sleuth walks to Slick and pulls out his key. Slick looks up, a trickle of blood flowing down the side of his head. “well” Slick asks.
Problem Sleuth: Shoot Spades Slick.
No point hesitating. You’ve got him right where you want him.
But if you kill him, the Midnight Crew would crumble without his leadership, and you’d essentially be giving the control of the city to the Felt. You’re not sure you want to let that happen.
Dammit, hesitating is what you weren’t supposed to be doing now.
Crowbar: Make an entrance.
“Kill him.”
Sleuth watches Slick’s eyes widen, just as he’s sure Slick watched his own eyes widen. Slick scrambles into a crawl and leaps behind a crate as Sleuth slides into cover in the opposite direction. Bullets rip into crates and turn them into splinters, depositing their contents onto the floor. Sleuth sees enough impudent puppet rump to last him a lifetime.
==>
If you’re going to destroy a warehouse fighting the Midnight Crew and the Felt, you don’t think you could’ve picked a better one.
“What the hell are you shooting Problem Sleuth for!?” Crowbar’s screaming at the rest of the Felt. “How many times do I have to tell you idiots that we need Problem Sleuth alive!”
“But you didn’t specify who ‘him’ was.” Sawbuck says ashamed.
Sleuth readies his key and grabs his hat, only to feel the scabbed surface of his head. Beside him is Spades Slick’s plain and serviceable hat. Next to Spades Slick, past a dangerously open area that even the Felt wouldn’t have any trouble killing him in, is Problem Sleuth’s hat.
Slick gives a sly grin. He grabs Problem Sleuth’s hat and tosses it towards Sleuth. Sleuth returns the favor. Slick puts his hat on his head. “shouldve done it when you had the chance” He whispers.
==>
0/4 BLACK SUITS BLOODIED
1/1 UNLIKELY FAVORS PERFORMED
3/? OPPORTUNITIES COMPLETELY WASTED
Yeah, no kidding. Sleuth watches as Slick crouches low and disappears into the maze of crates.
Problem Sleuth puts his hat on his head and grips his gun.
“Move out. We’ve got enough muscle we can clear this place out.” Crowbar barks.
The entrance isn’t a good place to be right now. Problem Sleuth huddles low and makes his own disappearance deeper into the warehouse.
Ugh, this took forever to write. I tried writing it from scratch, and that wasn't really working for me. So then I had to go plan out this whole action sequence and then work from that.
I don't really think this giant action sequence is all that great of an idea. This was planned from the start, to have lots of riveting action, with PS and the MC and the Felt fighting and racing each other towards the SoA and PS using his wits to defeat them, but when I get giant writer's block I should probably take notice that something's wrong. There's probably a better way to approach this anyway, but I'm tired of worrying about it and I just want past this point. Hopefully the action is exciting and interesting and not boring and tedious, but I have my worries about that.
And just what the fuck is PS' plan? I keep asking myself that. I guess it's not really so much a plan as it is a set of objectives, evidenced by how Sleuth is keeping score.
I cannot argue with anything that has Problem Sleuth and Spades Slick holding each other's hats, and making a tense grim trade-off. Watch out, Jim, you're just making room for more of my stuff. :P
I think it’s part of the game program. Yes, it applies to the players as much as to the constructs. In truth, the players ARE constructs as well. Yet both they, their guardians, and normal beings that observe them never seem to notice. Like some obvious fact is missed because it’s so obvious. I wonder if it would hit them if someone other then myself pointed it out...I doubt it. Such truths are what we naturally shy away from.
What am I speaking of you ask? Well, as an outside observer I see things about both players and guardians that no one else ever does. Though they don’t seem to comprehend it, normal humans do not have a Sylladex to carry items in. In fact, you could check the entire world and never find anyone with one. Yet players have them, and talk about them with other players like it was nothing at all. They even have books explaining such things, but can never recall how they got them.
Normal kids can’t level up. A normal girl can’t kill an ogre by jumping on it, ramming knitting needles into it’s eyes, and riding it down into the water...nor a normal girl have the bravery and lack of empathy to do so on the first try. Perfectly white skin doesn’t exist in nature. Nor does red eyes, or pure white hair. The guardians are no different. They too are ALMOST human, but not quite. They all seem too blank, too one-dimensional. Like something was missing.
The truth is as simple as it is horrifying. They don’t look quite human because they are NOT human. Rather, they are constructs shaped in the likeness of humanity. Fledgling gods sown among mortals, awaiting their trial. It is the same thing among trolls. No troll has skin that light shade of gray, or horns that color. Yet no one ever noticed.
I think that when they stand before me...and I know they will, destiny has a way of doing such things...I will tell them. Tell them that the race they think the represent died out with their worlds. Tell them how unusual it is that they brushed off the death of their entire race, almost as if they were not connected to it in any way. Tell them that they are already well on their way to being as monstrous as I am, because it’s coded into them.
The only thing I haven’t decided...is if I’ll let them finish gaping in horror at the truth before I butcher them.
I had that idea in the IDE thread. Everyone said I was nuts.
Originally Posted by Jim Groovester
FINALLY I plowed through my writer's block.
The Sapphire of Alternia, Part 19
The inside of the warehouse is completely dark, save for two rows of skylights that let in moonlight. The green moon gives one wall two rows of narrow green light, while the purple moon gives scattered illumination to the stock currently sitting in the warehouse, and the paths between and around it. It’s a maze. It’s completely impossible to find a way through. Which is why Problem Sleuth is currently wandering around it as fast as possible, learning how to get around without getting lost.
The warehouse door slides open. “is this the place” He hears Spades Slick ask. Problem Sleuth wanders until he can get a good look. The Midnight Crew is standing in the doorway. The orange glow of Diamonds Droog’s cigarette and four black blotches darker than everything else around them are the only indication it’s them.
“I saw Problem Sleuth go in here.” The glow brightens, then dims, “Not sure if it’s where the Sapphire is.”
“IT WOULD BE AWFULLY HARD TO FIND THE SAPPHIRE OF ALTERNIA HERE WITH ALL THE LIGHTS OUT, EVEN IF SLEUTH KNEW WHERE IT WAS!” Clubs Deuce says. Then he gasps. “SLICK, I DON’T THINK IT’S HERE. I THINK THIS MIGHT BE A TRAP!”
Sleuth hears Diamonds Droog sigh. “DID YA JUST FIGURE THAT OUT NOW” Boxcars bellows. “OF COURSE ITS A TRAP YOU EMPTY HEADED RUNT”
“well were not gonna find it without getting sleuth and were sure as fuck not gonna let the felt get to him first” Slick says. “deuce start rigging the place to blow. well need an exit on the other side”
Deuce’s silhouette happily skips out of view.
“droog boxcars” Slick addresses. “lets nab us some hardboiled jackass”
Droog clears his throat.
“and what the fuck do you want you got a problem with my plan”
“No, the plan’s fine, given what we’re dealing with. I just don’t think you should’ve said it out loud.” The glow brightens and dims quickly. It then drops to the floor and gets extinguished. “They’re listening.”
“its not like they can do anything about it even if they do know” Slick says. “lets go and would it kill ya stop ruining it for me when i try and sound like a fearsome mobster once in a while”
The three remaining black blotches disappear into the warehouse. Problem Sleuth looks up at the catwalk.
Pickle Inspector: Signal Problem Sleuth.
Using a series of complicated hand signals that you taught both Problem Sleuth and Ace Dick during the long planning session leading up to your presence here at this warehouse, you inform Problem Sleuth that Hearts Boxcars is taking the left path through the warehouse and will likely intercept Problem Sleuth if Sleuth does not leave the area immediately. You also tell him that Spades Slick will be vulnerable very soon as he will be in a location that will prevent Diamonds Droog from giving him covering fire and Hearts Boxcars will not be able to rush to his aid in a timely enough manner.
You are certain Problem Sleuth understood all that because he gave you a nod. You smile to yourself. The plan is working perfectly.
Pickle Inspector waves his hands around like an idiot. Problem Sleuth nods without understanding anything that Pickle Inspector was trying to tell him.
Problem Sleuth begins wandering through the warehouse aimlessly, looking for Spades Slick. When he finds him, he’s going to repay Slick back for everything he’s ever done to Sleuth. It probably won’t be too gruesome. Problem Sleuth isn’t going to torture him or anything. At worst he’ll just shoot Spades Slick in the back. For once Problem Sleuth is going to have the drop on Spades Slick and he isn’t going to let that opportunity go to waste.
Problem Sleuth hears the sounds of a car pulling up to the warehouse door echo through the building. The doors open and slam shut.
“Fin, what’s going on? The door’s open already.” Problem Sleuth recognizes the deep raspy voice of Quarters.
“I don’t know.” Fin’s voice echoes.
“Is this where the Sapphire is?”
“Maybe.” Fin answers hesitantly. “We’re about to get in a shootout with the Midnight Crew, and Problem Sleuth and the rest of those hardboiled jokers get involved somehow. We’re not going to start shooting each other for nothing, so it could be in here. But there’s too many future trails to tell what’s really going on.”
Someone giggles. Clover.
“So it’s a trap.” Quarters says.
“Probably. But if the Sapphire of Alternia is in here we don’t really have a choice not to go in.” Fin says. “And because we’re going to anyway, but we’ve got to get to it before Spades Slick does.”
“What are we waiting for then? Let’s kill us some mobsters.”
“We should wait for Crowbar to get here.” Fin says. “Not that we’re going to.”
Pickle Inspector: Take shot.
The crack of a sniper rifle firing several times echoes throughout the warehouse.
“Shit!” Fin shouts. “Where’s that coming from?”
“Dammit, Fin, I coulda used some warning!” Quarters yells. “This hurts like a son of a bitch!”
“What? You can take it.”
Problem Sleuth looks up at the catwalk for the warehouse. Pickle Inspector looks down at him and shakes his head.
==>
0/2 GREEN TAILS PERMANENTLY SHOOK. SHAKEN. DEALT WITH
1/? OPPORTUNITIES COMPLETELY WASTED
Pickle Inspector notices something down below and starts firing in the same direction. He starts walking backwards, silenced rifle fire sparking and ricocheting off the catwalk and the ceiling but coming from no clear direction.
Well, this is going about as well as expected. Problem Sleuth ditches finding Spades Slick and instead starts wandering to the entrance, hoping to catch Fin and take him out. That’s who they really need to get rid of, him and Trace. The Felt would be completely lost if they didn’t have those two to help them find people, which is exactly what Problem Sleuth needs to happen if he’s going to have any chance of grabbing the Sapphire of Alternia.
Problem Sleuth turns a corner in the maze of stacked crates and stops dead in his tracks. Purple moonlight runs smoothly over Hearts Boxcars because Problem Sleuth swears he’s not moving in that shadow. He’s got a black poleax in his hands and for all Sleuth knows of mythology Hearts Boxcars looks like an angel of death. Only when he notices Sleuth does he drop out of his glide and look like he’s actually walking.
==>
Or maybe you’re just terrified of Hearts Boxcars. None of this angel crap. What even is an angel anyway? One of those dumb things that loser kid kept killing. And if that loser kid can do it, so can you.
Maybe if you keep telling yourself that you won’t be terrified of Hearts Boxcars.
Sleuth pulls out his key ring. Problem Sleuth fires a quick burst of fire at Hearts Boxcars from the hip. With a twirl of his of poleax he deflects the fire away. Sleuth’s jaw clenches. He knows the Midnight Crew can do that sort of thing, but to see it in action is something else.
Hearts Boxcars, with a loud grunt, swings the poleax at neck level. Sleuth ducks quickly. The poleax smashes into a crate and sends splinters out onto the floor. Boxcars pulls it out of the crate and swings it down from overhead. Problem Sleuth leaps backward, the poleax smashing into the concrete floor. Sleuth readies his tommy gun as he steps backward.
Problem Sleuth backs into a crate as an incredibly heavy and deadly playing card flies past and just misses Sleuth’s head, embedding itself deep into the crate. Sleuth glances quickly at the giant hole in the crate and returns his gaze to Boxcars to see him lunging towards Sleuth, hands outstretched.
Sleuth tries to get a shot off but Boxcars grabs the tommy gun and bends its barrel upward.
==>
No! Not your key ring!
One of the keys is bent now. It’s completely unusable. Not even replacing the bent key with one of your many spares is going to fix it.
Boxcars grabs Sleuth by the front of his shirt and lifts him off the ground. He pulls his fist back for a punch. Sleuth throws everything he has into a right hook aimed at Boxcars’ nose. Sleuth hears a sick crunch, but Boxcars’ grip holds firm. Sleuth throws everything he has into a left hook aimed at Boxcars’ nose. Sleuth hears a sick crunch in the other direction. Boxcars lets go of Sleuth while bellowing in painful rage.
“Inspector!” Problem Sleuth shouts. “I need help with Boxcars!” Problem Sleuth puts his bent key ring into his pocket and pulls out a key. He dashes through the maze of crates and stock, hoping to shake Hearts Boxcars.
“AWW” Boxcars bellows. “YOU CRYIN TO YOUR MOMMY YOU LITTLE WIMP” He seems angrier than usual. Now why is that? The Midnight Crew should work on their anger issues at some point.
Sleuth doesn’t hear a response. “Inspector!” Sleuth shouts again. Nothing still. Sleuth continues to run through the maze.
“WHERE ARE YA SLEUTH” Boxcars screams. “ILL BREAK YOUR TINY LITTLE NECK AND BEAT YOU AGAINST THE WALL LIKE A RAG DOLL UNTIL YOUR HEAD RIPS OFF”
Problem Sleuth makes his way through the maze as quickly and quietly as he can. He’s lost Boxcars for the moment. He looks up at the catwalk. Pickle Inspector is in a fierce shooting match with somebody he can only assume to be Diamonds Droog. Pickle Inspector is holding his own, for the moment. It explains why he’s not answering Sleuth, but that’s something that’s going to need to be dealt with soon. But how?
“Dick!” Sleuth shouts. No answer from Dick either. Damn.
Problem Sleuth continues wandering through the maze. He cautiously turns several corners, key ready to fire a few rounds at a moment’s notice. The Felt have been lying low, which is far too smart of them. It’s either Fin knowing the future or Clover’s luck keeping them away from Sleuth right now.
Problem Sleuth turns another corner and sees Spades Slick swiping at Ace Dick. Problem Sleuth grins.
“Problem Sleuth!” Ace Dick shouts and glances.
==>
1/? SNEAK ATTACKS RUINED
2/? OPPORTUNITIES COMPLETELY WASTED
1/3 MEMBERS OF TEAM SLEUTH BEING TOTAL IDIOTS
Slick turns and throws a few knives and cards at Sleuth. Sleuth fires a few shots as he sidesteps. The cards and knives thud into the wall of crates behind Sleuth. Slick rushes at Sleuth, Rapier Wit ready to slay Sleuth with a timely one-liner.
“hate to stick it to ya” Slick shouts. “no goddammit thats fucking awful”
Sleuth pockets his empty key and pulls out his keyring. Slick thrusts but Sleuth deflects it upward with his bent tommygun. Sleuth steps to his right but nearly trips. His coat is pinned to the wall by a playing card.
“it looks like you” Slick says, pausing for effect. “stuck around too long”
“Slick, that’s terrible.” Sleuth says. A quick swipe at Sleuth’s neck gets blocked by the tommy gun.
“fuck you” Slick shouts, a haphazard vertical swing getting blocked easily by the tommy gun. “you think you can do better”
“I could come up with better one-liners with my back against the wall.” Sleuth smirks.
Slick growls.
“Look, Slick. Sometimes,” Sleuth pulls the card out of his coat. “You gotta play your cards right.” He suddenly swings the knife around to Slick’s neck.
Spades Slick pulls his neck back just in time. Sleuth follows up by smashing the butt of the tommy gun into Slick’s face. Stunned, Slick stumbles backwards into a crate.
Sleuth looks at Dick, who’s standing there, fists raised, ready to help in the fight somehow. “Real smooth, Dick, letting Slick know I was behind him.” Sleuth scolds.
“Whatever, Sleuth. I coulda taken him on my own.”
Slick rushes back at Sleuth, swaying to the side before finally shaking off the effects of the blow to his face. “that was just as fucking terrible as mine” Slick shouts, more offended about the one-liner than the blow to the face. He reaches for Sleuth’s bent tommy gun with one hand and aims a knife at Sleuth’s throat with the other.
Sleuth grabs the hand holding Slick’s knife and deflects it to his left. It peels off a thin ribbon of Sleuth’s carapace as it misses his neck. Sleuth drops his bent key ring and gives Slick a good punch to the gut.
Ace Dick is still just standing there. “Are you gonna help out at all?” Sleuth asks as Slick tries to remove blood flow to critical internal organs.
Ace Dick shakes his head from side to side. “I can’t find a good opening.”
Problem Sleuth wraps Spades Slick’s knife in his coat sleeve and yanks it away. Spades Slick pulls two cards out to compensate. “Go help out Inspector. He’s got his hands full with Diamonds Droog.” Problem Sleuth shouts.
“But what about Slick?”
“stop talking about me like im not here” Slick swipes at Sleuth’s chest. Sleuth jumps back. “dick” He stresses.
“I’m already fighting him by myself. I don’t need spectators.” Sleuth steps up and sweeps up his bent key ring into his hands. Sleuth backpedals, blocking quick swipes with his useless gun.
Dick shrugs. “I don’t like being ignored in a fight anyway.” He leaves into the maze of crates.
“bad move sleuth” Slick trades a knife for a longsword. “shouldve kept him around to stop your blood from soaking into the floor when you end up with a knife through your chest” Slick swings his sword wide. Sleuth blocks it with the bent tommy gun and twists his torso, avoiding the follow up from Slick’s offhand knife.
“But if I’m dead I can’t tell you where the Sapphire of Alternia is.” Sleuth says with a smirk. He swings the tommy gun like a club. It slides off Slick’s sword.
“you think i give shit about that”
Sleuth grins. “You’d be sad if you killed me.”
“wanna bet” Slick shouts as he thrusts with his sword. Sleuth leaps backwards and starts backpedaling through the maze of crates, giving ground to Slick’s furious assault.
Sleuth hears the sounds of a car pull up. He turns to the noise. Sleuth and Slick have managed to fight their way to the front entrance. Sleuth can see the lights of the car, but not who’s driving.
Problem Sleuth: Duck!
Before Problem Sleuth hears the whoosh of the sword he’s ducking down. Or that’s the way it seemed anyway. He turns his head back to Slick. He’s lunged too far forward, hoping to use Sleuth’s distraction to deliver a killing blow. Sleuth simply smashes the butt of his bent tommy gun into Slick’s chin.
Slick takes a stunned step backward and Sleuth swings his tommy gun like a club at the side of Slick’s head, knocking his hat clear off. Slick falls over to the ground. Problem Sleuth walks to Slick and pulls out his key. Slick looks up, a trickle of blood flowing down the side of his head. “well” Slick asks.
Problem Sleuth: Shoot Spades Slick.
No point hesitating. You’ve got him right where you want him.
But if you kill him, the Midnight Crew would crumble without his leadership, and you’d essentially be giving the control of the city to the Felt. You’re not sure you want to let that happen.
Dammit, hesitating is what you weren’t supposed to be doing now.
Crowbar: Make an entrance.
“Kill him.”
Sleuth watches Slick’s eyes widen, just as he’s sure Slick watched his own eyes widen. Slick scrambles into a crawl and leaps behind a crate as Sleuth slides into cover in the opposite direction. Bullets rip into crates and turn them into splinters, depositing their contents onto the floor. Sleuth sees enough impudent puppet rump to last him a lifetime.
==>
If you’re going to destroy a warehouse fighting the Midnight Crew and the Felt, you don’t think you could’ve picked a better one.
“What the hell are you shooting Problem Sleuth for!?” Crowbar’s screaming at the rest of the Felt. “How many times do I have to tell you idiots that we need Problem Sleuth alive!”
“But you didn’t specify who ‘him’ was.” Sawbuck says ashamed.
Sleuth readies his key and grabs his hat, only to feel the scabbed surface of his head. Beside him is Spades Slick’s plain and serviceable hat. Next to Spades Slick, past a dangerously open area that even the Felt wouldn’t have any trouble killing him in, is Problem Sleuth’s hat.
Slick gives a sly grin. He grabs Problem Sleuth’s hat and tosses it towards Sleuth. Sleuth returns the favor. Slick puts his hat on his head. “shouldve done it when you had the chance” He whispers.
==>
0/4 BLACK SUITS BLOODIED
1/1 UNLIKELY FAVORS PERFORMED
3/? OPPORTUNITIES COMPLETELY WASTED
Yeah, no kidding. Sleuth watches as Slick crouches low and disappears into the maze of crates.
Problem Sleuth puts his hat on his head and grips his gun.
“Move out. We’ve got enough muscle we can clear this place out.” Crowbar barks.
The entrance isn’t a good place to be right now. Problem Sleuth huddles low and makes his own disappearance deeper into the warehouse.
Ugh, this took forever to write. I tried writing it from scratch, and that wasn't really working for me. So then I had to go plan out this whole action sequence and then work from that.
I don't really think this giant action sequence is all that great of an idea. This was planned from the start, to have lots of riveting action, with PS and the MC and the Felt fighting and racing each other towards the SoA and PS using his wits to defeat them, but when I get giant writer's block I should probably take notice that something's wrong. There's probably a better way to approach this anyway, but I'm tired of worrying about it and I just want past this point. Hopefully the action is exciting and interesting and not boring and tedious, but I have my worries about that.
And just what the fuck is PS' plan? I keep asking myself that. I guess it's not really so much a plan as it is a set of objectives, evidenced by how Sleuth is keeping score.
I like this, mang. Glad to see you're back to writing.
@lantadyme- I got to go to a troll party! As Nepeta! Oh my gosh this was so fun! The way she reacts to each of the other trolls was so pure and adorable; but the adoration Equius has of her and the unabashed way he shows his love is the best part. forever!
@crash826- I do believe I just read a poem with a Greek chorus in it. That was so awesomly cool. Plus I love the idea of Jade - Karkat (or whatever the kismeses symbol is. Why on earth aren't the four suits of cards smiliy choices?) Anyway that was pretty unique and creative, kudos.
I think it’s part of the game program. Yes, it applies to the players as much as to the constructs. In truth, the players ARE constructs as well. Yet both they, their guardians, and normal beings that observe them never seem to notice. Like some obvious fact is missed because it’s so obvious. I wonder if it would hit them if someone other then myself pointed it out...I doubt it. Such truths are what we naturally shy away from.
What am I speaking of you ask? Well, as an outside observer I see things about both players and guardians that no one else ever does. Though they don’t seem to comprehend it, normal humans do not have a Sylladex to carry items in. In fact, you could check the entire world and never find anyone with one. Yet players have them, and talk about them with other players like it was nothing at all. They even have books explaining such things, but can never recall how they got them.
Normal kids can’t level up. A normal girl can’t kill an ogre by jumping on it, ramming knitting needles into it’s eyes, and riding it down into the water...nor a normal girl have the bravery and lack of empathy to do so on the first try. Perfectly white skin doesn’t exist in nature. Nor does red eyes, or pure white hair. The guardians are no different. They too are ALMOST human, but not quite. They all seem too blank, too one-dimensional. Like something was missing.
The truth is as simple as it is horrifying. They don’t look quite human because they are NOT human. Rather, they are constructs shaped in the likeness of humanity. Fledgling gods sown among mortals, awaiting their trial. It is the same thing among trolls. No troll has skin that light shade of gray, or horns that color. Yet no one ever noticed.
I think that when they stand before me...and I know they will, destiny has a way of doing such things...I will tell them. Tell them that the race they think the represent died out with their worlds. Tell them how unusual it is that they brushed off the death of their entire race, almost as if they were not connected to it in any way. Tell them that they are already well on their way to being as monstrous as I am, because it’s coded into them.
The only thing I haven’t decided...is if I’ll let them finish gaping in horror at the truth before I butcher them.
@crash826- I do believe I just read a poem with a Greek chorus in it. That was so awesomly cool. Plus I love the idea of Jade - Karkat (or whatever the kismeses symbol is. Why on earth aren't the four suits of cards smiliy choices?) Anyway that was pretty unique and creative, kudos.
It's actually based off a song from the musical Wicked.
Originally Posted by HarMegidon
I just am asking why she is selling sausages at a funeral.
Originally Posted by inexpediency
Everyone is a hedgehog...on the inside.
Originally Posted by Tesseract
On a deadness scale of normal to doorknob I would rate her as double doorknob
Originally Posted by Jitka
fuck yeah sodium hexametaphosphate
that is my favorite hexametaphosphate
Malakin:because its actually the truman show just with ponys
crash826:that
crash826:makes
crash826:far too much sense
gingerale:xD
Malakin:think about it
Malakin:it all makes sense
Originally Posted by Catbread
Those sound like some pretty badass park rangers.
Originally Posted by ranasan
Wow... it's like if someone managed to manifest Missingno. from Pokemon Red and Blue into the real world, grind it up into a fine powder and then snort it.
18:21 Girard so I learned something at the barber:
18:22 Daniel ?
18:22 Girard The entirety of England, London in particular, is actually a stage for the biggest production of the musical Oliver ever made.
18:22 Girard England is a giant musical.
18:22 Girard This explains the small children with cockney accents and giant hats who dance in the streets.
18:23 Daniel ...DAMN YOU MARY POPPINS!
18:23 Daniel DAMN YOU TO HELL!
Your land, the Land of Pendulums and Glass, is the only one still untouched by the forces of Derse.
That voice told you what to do. The Man in White knows how best to repair your situation. You have to take Wyvern's Granite Awl to the Mirrorlith and Scratch it.
You find, much to your surprise, that you are allowed a massive amount of leeway in the reset universe's conditions. You can change the number of players, the amount of exposure to other sessions, even the species that would play the game.
And, most stunning of all, you can preprogram your successor's actions.
You decide to delay the onset of SBurb for as long as you can. You make sure your other self in the reset universe will do the same.
Scratch.
In the year 2025, a Knight of Time takes his pick to a great stone slab in his land.
Scratch.
In the year 2341, an Heir of Time carves a great tree into the totem his Elven correspondent said it needs to become.
Scratch.
In the year 3592, a Sylph of Time burns down the forests surrounding her home, revealing the great mechanism underneath.
R0cks ab0ve us flying by
I f0und my meaning in this life
n0 l0nger seeing with my eyes,
blinded by a white, white light
Y0ur true beauty d0esn’t hide fr0m my sight
Y0u've been away t00 l0ng
and every day I missed y0u m0re.
Y0u l00k like y0u did bef0re
0nly prettier.
Every day I l0ve y0u m0re.
All the 0thers rushing by, by, by
l00king f0r meaning in this life
s0 used up, and blinded by lies,
They've clearly seen the dark red light
the way they seld0m seem t0 smile
I d0n't kn0w why.
'Cause y0u've been away t00 l0ng
and every day I missed y0u m0re.
Y0u l00k like y0u did bef0re,
0nly prettier.
Everyday I l0ve y0u m0re.
I l0ve y0u m0re,
every day I l0ve y0u m0re,
and m0re.
Cause I've been away too long
and every day I missed you more.
You look like you did before,
only prettier.
And every day I missed you more,
and more and more and more and more.
Y0u've /I've been away t00 l0ng
and every day I missed y0u m0re
0h y0u l00k like y0u did bef0re
0nly prettier
every day I l0ve y0u m0re.
So I've been kind of wanting to expand on something I wrote earlier
And that's getting underway now, here's hoping I come up with enough to continue it
Re: Champion - Prologue
Millennia ago, before the First Conquest of Alternia shackled them to their fates as caretakers of the next generation, even before the Grand Unification that saw the warring nation-states of trollkind unite under one government, the lusus naturae had their own ways of life. Simple, yes; tribal, yes; shamanistic, yes. But before the myriad species of lusii were subjugated and forced into symbiosis with their conquerors, they told their own tales.
Perhaps none were quite so relevant to this story as the legends passed down by the lusus carcinus.
“Behold! For he descends from the heavens even now; the Great Unifier, Cancer’s Right Hand. A youngling shall emerge from the caverns and his appearance shall challenge the blistering heat of the sun itself. Remain ever-vigilant, my children, for he is our last and greatest hope.”
-roughly translated excerpt of Biblios Carcinus, “Canto of the Champion,” verse 10:25
----------
The rock fell from the sky in the early morning, awakening the creature as it screamed through the atmosphere. It’s the only one of its kind who makes its living in this relatively remote location, so it makes ready (somewhat begrudgingly, having been awoken so rudely) to arrive at the site of the impact.
It is not prepared to discover what awaits it, because this defies all logic.
In the exact center of the crater, lying atop the broken stone fragments but clearly very much alive, lays a troll youngling (wriggler, the creature’s mind corrects). Was it here before the impact and somehow miraculously survived? But it’s so far away from the brooding caverns. No, that can’t be it, but the alternative (that it somehow arrived via the meteor) is insane.
In any case, the creature now has a duty to attend to. It approaches the little one, scoops it up in shelled claws and takes it back to the nesting grounds.
(A lusus will do what is best for its charge.)
----------
"SO LONG, YOU LITTLE SHIT. I HOPE YOU DON’T FUCK UP AS HARD AS I DID."
The wriggler has no idea what the tall one meant by these words, or even that he’s talking to him. All he is certain of is that soon after, his surroundings have drastically changed. Gone are the others he played with briefly (he hopes he will see them again soon); all that remains is the sound of surf crashing against the beach behind him and the echo of the meteorite’s crash ringing in his auditory channels.
Before he drifts off to sleep (because, between crawling around the ectobiology lab and his latest adventure, he is rather tired), he notices a large, clawed figure approaching. The wriggler gives only the quietest of protests as it lifts him off the cooling stone. Its hard, smooth, slightly damp carapace is comforting, and he is asleep before too much time passes.
----------
He is four sweeps old, and he thinks he knows why he and his lusus live so far away from other trolls now.
The lessons have taught him that his race’s society is founded on a hierarchy, determined by the color of one’s blood. Purplebloods sit at the top, the ruling class, and the Empress bleeds brightest purple of all. Below them lies the blue aristocracy, and below them the green middle class. Lower than that are the yellow, rust and maroon.
But, he does not meet any of these distinctions. He’s not royalty; his blood is too red. He’s not a commoner; his blood is too bright. He’s an aberration, an affront to the hemospectrum, a fluke in the genetic code. He must have been sent to live away from troll society, so as not to taint it.
(In the back of his mind, he knows this is a capital offense, and tries not to think about meeting his end at the hands of the cull squads.)
----------
He is seven sweeps old, and he knows he must take action if he is to survive long enough to be eight.
Staying on Alternia is not an option; when the recruitment ships come, they are very thorough. No troll escapes their sight, and refusal to enlist is as worthy of culling as treason in the Empire’s eyes. But, going willingly will simply reveal his secret (the color of this slop that runs through my veins) and end with the same result.
His research on the Alternet turns up an experimental chemical cocktail, mostly peddled by the shadiest of dealers with the illest of repute. It goes by many names; Hemoshift, Chromomine, Sanguitussin, Chameleodose; mostly used by lowbloods aiming for higher stations in life than they were ever meant to achieve. A months’ supply of the raw materials needed to synthesize it costs half his month’s scarab allowance.
But it’s either this, or death before his time.
----------
He is eight sweeps old, and the recruitment ships have come planetside for their annual rounds. Sooner than he had hoped, in fact, because he is unsure the drug has had time to affect him.
He approaches them willingly. He has not met many trolls in person, and never has he seen so many in one place. A few of them he recognizes (his best friend, Casparr, among them).
One, he does not recognize, but wishes he did as he finds himself staring at her. Slender frame, shoulder-length hair, her pearl-white smile and striking red glasses…
“She’s beautiful,” he whispers to himself.
“Eh, what’s that? Speak up son, I can’t hear you over all this commotion.”
He snaps to attention and realizes he’s finally at the front of the sign-in line. The recruiter asks him again. “Your name, son. What’s your name?”
“Oh, sorry. Karkinos Histrellin.”
The recruiter taps the name into the husktop. “That’s strange, we don’t have you on file.” Oh, right, the whole raised-apart-from-society-because-you’re-a-blight-on-it thing, of course he wouldn’t be on file.
“Any chance my information was lost?”
“Ha! Wouldn’t be the first time. Fucking bureaucracy, how does it even work? Alright, let me get you set up. How old are you, Histrellin?”
“Eight sweeps, as of three days ago.”
“Alright, you’re in. What are you training for?”
“Threshecutioners, sir.”
“Blueblood, then?”
“…Green, sir.”
“Ha! You’re the first greenblood in ages to sign up for the Threshecutioners. Usually it’s the bluebloods who get into that, but you wouldn’t be the first green. They’ll give you hell for it but eh, I figure you kick everyone’s ass hard enough and they’ll stop giving you shit about it. Okay, just need you to take this pen and sign here, then take this pin and print here.”
He signs his name on the line, and can barely stand to look as he jabs the needle into his finger and presses it against the paper.
He mentally sighs in relief when he pulls his finger away to reveal a partial lime green fingerprint.
“Heh, that’s an interesting shade. You don’t see a lot of limebloods anymore these days. But you’re all signed up now, take your stuff and go here.” The recruiter hands him a keycard and directions on how to get to his bunk, then extends his hand. “Welcome to the Threshecutioners. Glory to Alternia.”
Karkinos shakes the recruiter’s hand. “Glory to Alternia.”
He looks around. The girl from before is nowhere to be seen.
(Well, shit.)
Notes:
So yeah, remember that one-shot I did about Karkat's ancestor being the hero foretold in prophecy? (haha like anyone keeps up with my shit enough to know what I'm talking about immediately)
I'm expanding on that, gonna make it into a series about his life and campaigns and such, I think
Here's hoping this doesn't suck! Also hoping it doesn't instantly devolve into sloppy Karkancestor/Redglare makeouts (let's at least get a few chapters in beforehand)
So I've been kind of wanting to expand on something I wrote earlier
And that's getting underway now, here's hoping I come up with enough to continue it
Re: Champion - Prologue
Millennia ago, before the First Conquest of Alternia shackled them to their fates as caretakers of the next generation, even before the Grand Unification that saw the warring nation-states of trollkind unite under one government, the lusus naturae had their own ways of life. Simple, yes; tribal, yes; shamanistic, yes. But before the myriad species of lusii were subjugated and forced into symbiosis with their conquerors, they told their own tales.
Perhaps none were quite so relevant to this story as the legends passed down by the lusus carcinus.
“Behold! For he descends from the heavens even now; the Great Unifier, Cancer’s Right Hand. A youngling shall emerge from the caverns and his appearance shall challenge the blistering heat of the sun itself. Remain ever-vigilant, my children, for he is our last and greatest hope.”
-roughly translated excerpt of Biblios Carcinus, “Canto of the Champion,” verse 10:25
----------
The rock fell from the sky in the early morning, awakening the creature as it screamed through the atmosphere. It’s the only one of its kind who makes its living in this relatively remote location, so it makes ready (somewhat begrudgingly, having been awoken so rudely) to arrive at the site of the impact.
It is not prepared to discover what awaits it, because this defies all logic.
In the exact center of the crater, lying atop the broken stone fragments but clearly very much alive, lays a troll youngling (wriggler, the creature’s mind corrects). Was it here before the impact and somehow miraculously survived? But it’s so far away from the brooding caverns. No, that can’t be it, but the alternative (that it somehow arrived via the meteor) is insane.
In any case, the creature now has a duty to attend to. It approaches the little one, scoops it up in shelled claws and takes it back to the nesting grounds.
(A lusus will do what is best for its charge.)
----------
"SO LONG, YOU LITTLE SHIT. I HOPE YOU DON’T FUCK UP AS HARD AS I DID."
The wriggler has no idea what the tall one meant by these words, or even that he’s talking to him. All he is certain of is that soon after, his surroundings have drastically changed. Gone are the others he played with briefly (he hopes he will see them again soon); all that remains is the sound of surf crashing against the beach behind him and the echo of the meteorite’s crash ringing in his auditory channels.
Before he drifts off to sleep (because, between crawling around the ectobiology lab and his latest adventure, he is rather tired), he notices a large, clawed figure approaching. The wriggler gives only the quietest of protests as it lifts him off the cooling stone. Its hard, smooth, slightly damp carapace is comforting, and he is asleep before too much time passes.
----------
He is four sweeps old, and he thinks he knows why he and his lusus live so far away from other trolls now.
The lessons have taught him that his race’s society is founded on a hierarchy, determined by the color of one’s blood. Purplebloods sit at the top, the ruling class, and the Empress bleeds brightest purple of all. Below them lies the blue aristocracy, and below them the green middle class. Lower than that are the yellow, rust and maroon.
But, he does not meet any of these distinctions. He’s not royalty; his blood is too red. He’s not a commoner; his blood is too bright. He’s an aberration, an affront to the hemospectrum, a fluke in the genetic code. He must have been sent to live away from troll society, so as not to taint it.
(In the back of his mind, he knows this is a capital offense, and tries not to think about meeting his end at the hands of the cull squads.)
----------
He is seven sweeps old, and he knows he must take action if he is to survive long enough to be eight.
Staying on Alternia is not an option; when the recruitment ships come, they are very thorough. No troll escapes their sight, and refusal to enlist is as worthy of culling as treason in the Empire’s eyes. But, going willingly will simply reveal his secret (the color of this slop that runs through my veins) and end with the same result.
His research on the Alternet turns up an experimental chemical cocktail, mostly peddled by the shadiest of dealers with the illest of repute. It goes by many names; Hemoshift, Chromomine, Sanguitussin, Chameleodose; mostly used by lowbloods aiming for higher stations in life than they were ever meant to achieve. A months’ supply of the raw materials needed to synthesize it costs half his month’s scarab allowance.
But it’s either this, or death before his time.
----------
He is eight sweeps old, and the recruitment ships have come planetside for their annual rounds. Sooner than he had hoped, in fact, because he is unsure the drug has had time to affect him.
He approaches them willingly. He has not met many trolls in person, and never has he seen so many in one place. A few of them he recognizes (his best friend, Casparr, among them).
One, he does not recognize, but wishes he did as he finds himself staring at her. Slender frame, shoulder-length hair, her pearl-white smile and striking red glasses…
“She’s beautiful,” he whispers to himself.
“Eh, what’s that? Speak up son, I can’t hear you over all this commotion.”
He snaps to attention and realizes he’s finally at the front of the sign-in line. The recruiter asks him again. “Your name, son. What’s your name?”
“Oh, sorry. Karkinos Histrellin.”
The recruiter taps the name into the husktop. “That’s strange, we don’t have you on file.” Oh, right, the whole raised-apart-from-society-because-you’re-a-blight-on-it thing, of course he wouldn’t be on file.
“Any chance my information was lost?”
“Ha! Wouldn’t be the first time. Fucking bureaucracy, how does it even work? Alright, let me get you set up. How old are you, Histrellin?”
“Eight sweeps, as of three days ago.”
“Alright, you’re in. What are you training for?”
“Threshecutioners, sir.”
“Blueblood, then?”
“…Green, sir.”
“Ha! You’re the first greenblood in ages to sign up for the Threshecutioners. Usually it’s the bluebloods who get into that, but you wouldn’t be the first green. They’ll give you hell for it but eh, I figure you kick everyone’s ass hard enough and they’ll stop giving you shit about it. Okay, just need you to take this pen and sign here, then take this pin and print here.”
He signs his name on the line, and can barely stand to look as he jabs the needle into his finger and presses it against the paper.
He mentally sighs in relief when he pulls his finger away to reveal a partial lime green fingerprint.
“Heh, that’s an interesting shade. You don’t see a lot of limebloods anymore these days. But you’re all signed up now, take your stuff and go here.” The recruiter hands him a keycard and directions on how to get to his bunk, then extends his hand. “Welcome to the Threshecutioners. Glory to Alternia.”
Karkinos shakes the recruiter’s hand. “Glory to Alternia.”
He looks around. The girl from before is nowhere to be seen.
(Well, shit.)
Notes:
So yeah, remember that one-shot I did about Karkat's ancestor being the hero foretold in prophecy? (haha like anyone keeps up with my shit enough to know what I'm talking about immediately)
I'm expanding on that, gonna make it into a series about his life and campaigns and such, I think
Here's hoping this doesn't suck! Also hoping it doesn't instantly devolve into sloppy Karkancestor/Redglare makeouts (let's at least get a few chapters in beforehand)
Augh. I read Karkatcestor thing you posted before. I thought it then, and I'm thinking it even more now:
you're doing everything I want to do and doing it better
Is this thread big enough for two Karkat ancestor fics? I hope so. I'm liking both of them.
@battlerek & Graven_Image & Path: Thanks. Hopefully it won't take ten days for the next part.
@anonymousComrade: No, PS isn't Eridan's exile. He just knows Eridan by reputation from his time as a Prospit soldier.
Oh, and my first though when I read the scene with Karkancestor and the recruiter was of the scene in Starship Troopers where Johnny Rico signs up.
"What about you, kid?"
"Threshecutioners, sir."
"Well, good for you. The threshecutioners made me the man I am today." The recruiter pushes back from his desk, revealing two legs missing from the knee down.
@anonymousComrade: No, PS isn't Eridan's exile. He just knows Eridan by reputation from his time as a Prospit soldier.
Oh, and my first though when I read the scene with Karkancestor and the recruiter was of the scene in Starship Troopers where Johnny Rico signs up.
"What about you, kid?"
"Threshecutioners, sir."
"Well, good for you. The threshecutioners made me the man I am today." The recruiter pushes back from his desk, revealing two legs missing from the knee down.
Theories shot down: 1/??
Opportunities for references missed: 1/??
But that's okay, the idea that Eridan had a reputation among Prospit's soliders for being dumb is still hilarious
Okay, I held off reading what I knew was going to be a Wicked rewrite because I was afraid it wouldn't hold up to how awesome the original is. I was wrong, and it was fantastic. Wicked is the best thing.
That being said, in my head I'm flipping a few lines just so I can get the image of Jade rolling her eyes at Karkat's yelling and Karkat deriding Jade's anime dress:
Originally Posted by crash826
BOTH
Loathing!
Unadulterated loathing!
KARKAT
FOR YOUR FACE...
JADE
your voice...
KARKAT
YOUR CLOTHING...
BOTH
Let's just say - I loathe it all!
But I mean, the whole thing was great no matter what.
Originally Posted by Jim Groovester
@battlerek & Graven_Image & Path: Thanks. Hopefully it won't take ten days for the next part.
Was it really only ten days? It's hard to tell stuck in this never-ending cycle of cufflink making. What does sunlight look like? I can't remember. Anyhow I guess I'll be pleasantly surprised if Chapter 20 turns up sooner than I'd anticipate!