Chapter 14 of Herding Cats is up, and it's another sidelines chapter! Even though the last chapter was basically a sidelines chapter! I swear something is actually going to happen soon. Anyway, highlights include Vriska and Feferi being TOTALLY PLATONIC BFFSIES 4EVERZ, Tavros sassing the fuck out of Sollux, and Kanaya and Terezi passive-aggressively meddling with each other like the snarky ashen broads they are.
She sleeps in tower ivory, she dreams in one of gold,
At once she is both young and dead and old.
She sees what is to happen, knows not what will unfold.
Fire took her dreams away, now emptiness rules sleep,
In bubbles ruled by creatures mad her sanity she keeps
And through the madness she becomes a wolf and not a sheep.
Now space is in her grasp, power great and vast
And on the golden inch she sails on ship of golden masts
To face a fiend of power cosmic, whose reign forever lasts.
How will this journey end, no one can be sure,
But however it will end, the universe she’ll cure.
John:
Zephyr his mount, sapphire his cape
The Heir arrives on wings of storm
Lightning his scepter, thunder his crown
The power of Breath the world does transform
Light on his feet, light in his heart
Greatness is his, his to perform
Potential endless, given by air
The power of Breath the world does transform
Joy rules him still, though darkness looms close
And sorrows and pain threaten to swarm
He rises above, the sky is his throne
The power of Breath the world does transform
Though kindness is his, cruelty cast aside
Threaten his kin, trouble their form
And prepare to reap a whirlwind of force
The power of Breath your hate will transform.
Rose:
At the tip of her wand seraphim dance
A ballet of strife with devils of chance.
Sable and Emerald duel for her mind;
If either prevails , her fate won’t be kind
At all times in control, except when she’s not.
Aberrations of dread foul feelers do send.
They whisper of treason, damnation and rot,
Of crimes she could never hope to amend.
She will not surrender, relinquish no sliver
Of her mind to the hunters that come from the void.
Fight them every step, she won’t falter or quiver;
She fights for herself, least she be destroyed.
With wizardry and light, the future she scouts,
The roll of the dice now her crystal ball,
And though what she sees may cause her some doubt
The Seer will never again be a thrall.
Furious Pariah, hard of shell
Herder of wolves, they bite at his ankles
Making his way through a hazy hell.
Hurried the midwife, doomed the born
Ruinous creator, tumorous doctor
He failed, for hatred now sworn.
In desolation lingers, never dares to hope
For he knows hope is a butcher
With his helplessness he cannot cope
Rage too betrayed him, bond asunder
Leaving a trail of corpses behind
The jester cares not if he goes under
Trapped in loathing, harried by temporal shades
Cursed by heretical plasma, hidden by shame
Jealousy grows, cultivated by sightless blades
Blindness sneers at him
Callousness will spare not a moment
His blood by loneliness made dim
Kanaya:
On sunny sands she walks, while others in darkness sleep.
Caring soul, ancestor to a generation that will never be born.
Care is met with cruelty, dealt by the spider’s sting,
Her love is repaid with indifference, pricks like the sharpest thorn.
Amphibian progeny she raises, watched by a warrior filled with pride
Haste her child will doom, the warrior demands it still, she obeys.
A universe is born only to die again.
Her love is repaid by stillbirth; her child will never see the light of day.
Fleeing from bladed death, her last hope has yet to hatch,
She shows compassion to a wounded soul, giving it a goal.
That hope is a devil in sheep’s skin, and burns all others.
Her love is repaid with treason, and in her heart a hole.
With vengeance she rises again, less and more than she was.
The devil is cleaved by a sword of teeth. It gives her no peace.
Now she searches for a space to call her own.
Her love is waiting for a balm that the pain will cease.
He is without equal, brain like a storm
Hateful and wretched, worthless worm
Wisdom and knowledge, power unknown
Ignorant fool, his fate does bemoan
Fierce is his mind, fierce his heart too
Cowardly maggot of red and blue
She was his best friend, she could have been more
He fired and fired, left nothing but gore
He saved her life, she kissed him and smiled
Shot through the chest, while he choked on bile
He did what he could, it wasn’t his fault
He failed like always, her death couldn’t halt
Blackness unfolds him, no more red and blue
Duality vanished, the dying shouts are gone
Peace at last, a final dark dawn.
Tranquility in emptiness
Rest in the void
Clarity in blindness
Unity in death.
Pointy shades, bulbous rump
Ironic coolness, rhymes I pump
Shatterproof sword, Causal cap
Layers of satire, I take no crap
Flashy moves, tasty grooves
Never lose, always the one to choose
Faster than sound, flashing around
Cutting fools down, fighting black clowns
Jet board, can’t be ignored, check out the sword
Slashing through imps like metaphysical gourds
Grist hoard, everything afford, won every single possible award
Shit so easy, I get bored.
Got Cal, best pal, me and him is an entire cabal
Bounce a coin, try not to look sad;
It won’t get to land before I send you
Beaten so bad like a kick to the groin
You can’t beat Bro at shit, I’m simply the best there is
Holding a monopoly on the asskicking biz.
Chapter 14 of Herding Cats is up, and it's another sidelines chapter! Even though the last chapter was basically a sidelines chapter! I swear something is actually going to happen soon. Anyway, highlights include Vriska and Feferi being TOTALLY PLATONIC BFFSIES 4EVERZ, Tavros sassing the fuck out of Sollux, and Kanaya and Terezi passive-aggressively meddling with each other like the snarky ashen broads they are.
i won't link to them here, but i'll group the titles by ship and mark nsfw ones with an x? i'm being really strict with the nsfw warning because i don't want to get in trouble, lol
roxy/ar ((obvs the best ship))
inanimate
love as a construct - unfinished
roxy/dirk ((second best ship))
don't burn your bridges - unfinished
not a word - x
human condition - x - unfinished
do you trust me? - x - unfinished
the love at the end of the world - unfinished
fenestrated
wahts it to u? - x
roxy/dave
know where to run - unfinished
karkatgamzee
good karkat, best friend - x
unfamiliar
gamdave
dropped beats - x ((very nsfw, heads up))
davesprite/john
prime initiative - x - unfinished
goofy, no pairing
the raven, dave strider version
sibling rivalry
I FEEL REALLY DUMB LISTING THESE ALL HERE BUT GOSH DARNIT I LIKE THEM AND WANT OTHERS TO READ THEM TOO :B
-- insomniacMercury [IM] gave up trolling mspaForums [MF] --
Going, going, GONE. This is the way the world ends.
Oh how sad, how sad it is, this beautiful world, gone. Never more will you sit and watch the clouds roll by, actors playing their parts in a vast tragedy, lit by the moonlight. Never again will you paint your dreams on the walls of your hive, every picture in another color of the spectrum. Never will your eyes wander the desert sands and dream of the words written upon them, in silicon whispers and crystalline song.
The world is gone, gone, gone, in sweet fire. How sad it is.
But isn’t there a beauty to be had, regardless, in these new worlds? After all, you have a new sky to watch, a brand new tragedy with all new players lit by the soft light of Skaia. You have new dreams to paint on new walls, painted in the colors of consorts and pawns and monsters. You have new vistas for your eyes to wander, new words upon them to read, and new whispers to hear in your ear.
Ah, yes, they whisper so. They whisper and whisper and whisper, sweet nothings, like a lover in an embrace. You wonder what their embrace might feel like, and you feel as if you’ll know it soon enough.
They have so many arms to embrace you with, do they not?
Go, go, GO. That is the way the world used to work, and this world is no different. There are so many things to do.
Going, going, GONE. That is the way the world ended, and this will end just the same. There are so many things to lose.
Your world ended in sweet fire, but that isn’t the fate of this one, is it? No, of course not. Going, going, GONE, but not in flame.
You have a feeling these worlds will end much more coldly than your own.
Some said the world would end in fire. And you had tasted of desire. And in the end, Fate favored fire. But you will have to perish twice. And you know much of hate and ice. Enough to know ice will suffice.
You always hated Troll Frost, but if you butcher his words enough, you think they will do for the occasion.
After all, you have to die to rise. And the world has already ended in fire.
You might as well end it in ice, and bring the whole tragedy to its inevitable end.
Go, go, GO. That is the way the world works, until something comes to disrupt the system from its Newtonian path.
Going, going, GONE. That is the Truth you will bring to the world. Desire and Fire have had their day, but it’s time for Hate and Ice to rule.
After all, the whispers are such cold things, compared to the rage of the falling stone. And they do so love to hate.
And you think you might be running out of paint, anyway. It’s time to visit your friends.
The first is reluctant to give his fair share, but you expected that; trolls are such greedy things, and they don’t understand beauty like you do. Like the whispers do. But he gives it up, in the end.
Each of them gives it up, in time. Color by color by color. Go, go, GO. Going, going, GONE.
They’re all gone, pretty soon.
You’re ready to paint your dreams, now.
You find your canvas on your world. It’s flat, of course, like a big stone table, emblazoned with your special symbol. You find a unique irony in its appearance; both skull and gear, as if to say you are merely a Cog in the ways of Death.
You begin your work, using every shade your friends could give you. You have just enough to finish it.
What is it, you ask? Well, you don’t ask. You stopped asking a long time ago. The whispers don’t like you asking, so you just paint. Does it have a point?
Does it need one?
You finish your masterpiece, except that’s a god damn lie. Your masterpiece is yet to come.
So maybe this can be your masterpiece until then. That’s probably alright.
But it’s time for your new masterpiece. Your real one, unlike your current fake one.
Because the picture you drew is a picture of the future, and that’s what makes it a fake masterpiece. Or it would, if you bothered to ask.
Did you know that if you mixed all of the colors together, you get a sort of sludgy brown? Mix a little ash in there, and it’s just like the color of the End.
And your picture is just one big sheet of the End color. Every square inch of your bed, painted in Death.
You take your life, not in fire or ice, but rather more mundanely. A small dagger, actually.
And this is your first death.
You Rise, and the whispers are now songs, and the songs are now screams, and the screams are now colors, and the colors show the End, in the Death color of sludgy brown, just like your clothes.
It’s time for the world to end in Ice. Sgrub has been outmaneuvered, this time. The whispers have won.
And you’ve won with them.
You paint a picture with the remains of worlds, and you sing a song with the Skaia’s dying screams, and you watch the vast eons of space slowly, slowly decay into a rotten, beautiful brown, and as it starts to get colder and colder, you have the words that own reality in your mind, and you say them to the only audience who ever mattered.
Go, go, be GONE, the Reaper says. In fire or ice or madness, you will all be gone in time.
I've really enjoyed figuring out the Words spoken at the end of each one; Doom's tying theme has been one of my favorites to write, so far.
though that's pretty much true of whatever aspect i'm working on so maybe i just like writing this stuff
Also, I like your Host of Storm, FowlJ. One thing I haven't really touched on is denizens, I've found; maybe because we know so little about them? But I also don't really focus on lands, either, and I plan on trying to incorporate that a bit more into my future ones. Also, exiles; I really need to do some things with those.
FUTURE PLANS FTW.
Also, Space is going to be next, because I've figured out a great tying theme for it. I was going to do Space instead of Doom, but I got stumped.
My Stories
The Game, and Those Who Play: "A set of stories detailing moments in the lives of those who play the Game, and the destinies they are a part of. Some Players will fulfill their own Destinies. Others will fail. And so the Game goes."
Or: That story where ArcFour tries to achieve the improbable, with various measures of success/failure!
Or: That story that's so big that the chapters can't fit into the signature!
Or: That story that's pretty much jossed about once a week, much to the author's dismay!
Or: That story with the Sylphs. What's up with them? God.
Kind of dark! Also the reason I went to Mature for the ratings. Does that seem appropriate?
Last edited by ArcFour; 05-27-2012 at 10:45 PM.
My Stories
The Game, and Those Who Play: "A set of stories detailing moments in the lives of those who play the Game, and the destinies they are a part of. Some Players will fulfill their own Destinies. Others will fail. And so the Game goes."
Or: That story where ArcFour tries to achieve the improbable, with various measures of success/failure!
Or: That story that's so big that the chapters can't fit into the signature!
Or: That story that's pretty much jossed about once a week, much to the author's dismay!
Or: That story with the Sylphs. What's up with them? God.
Where we discover what Gamzee's plan was and just how bad Nepeta is.
It's also the end of Act 1: the Players and the Played. Chapter 10 will be a bit of an epilogue for Act 1, and then Act 2: Entrance to Exile, will begin with Chapter 11.
She sleeps in tower ivory, she dreams in one of gold,
At once she is both young and dead and old.
She sees what is to happen, knows not what will unfold.
Fire took her dreams away, now emptiness rules sleep,
In bubbles ruled by creatures mad her sanity she keeps
And through the madness she becomes a wolf and not a sheep.
Now space is in her grasp, power great and vast
And on the golden inch she sails on ship of golden masts
To face a fiend of power cosmic, whose reign forever lasts.
How will this journey end, no one can be sure,
But however it will end, the universe she’ll cure.
John:
Zephyr his mount, sapphire his cape
The Heir arrives on wings of storm
Lightning his scepter, thunder his crown
The power of Breath the world does transform
Light on his feet, light in his heart
Greatness is his, his to perform
Potential endless, given by air
The power of Breath the world does transform
Joy rules him still, though darkness looms close
And sorrows and pain threaten to swarm
He rises above, the sky is his throne
The power of Breath the world does transform
Though kindness is his, cruelty cast aside
Threaten his kin, trouble their form
And prepare to reap a whirlwind of force
The power of Breath your hate will transform.
Rose:
At the tip of her wand seraphim dance
A ballet of strife with devils of chance.
Sable and Emerald duel for her mind;
If either prevails , her fate won’t be kind
At all times in control, except when she’s not.
Aberrations of dread foul feelers do send.
They whisper of treason, damnation and rot,
Of crimes she could never hope to amend.
She will not surrender, relinquish no sliver
Of her mind to the hunters that come from the void.
Fight them every step, she won’t falter or quiver;
She fights for herself, least she be destroyed.
With wizardry and light, the future she scouts,
The roll of the dice now her crystal ball,
And though what she sees may cause her some doubt
The Seer will never again be a thrall.
Furious Pariah, hard of shell
Herder of wolves, they bite at his ankles
Making his way through a hazy hell.
Hurried the midwife, doomed the born
Ruinous creator, tumorous doctor
He failed, for hatred now sworn.
In desolation lingers, never dares to hope
For he knows hope is a butcher
With his helplessness he cannot cope
Rage too betrayed him, bond asunder
Leaving a trail of corpses behind
The jester cares not if he goes under
Trapped in loathing, harried by temporal shades
Cursed by heretical plasma, hidden by shame
Jealousy grows, cultivated by sightless blades
Blindness sneers at him
Callousness will spare not a moment
His blood by loneliness made dim
Kanaya:
On sunny sands she walks, while others in darkness sleep.
Caring soul, ancestor to a generation that will never be born.
Care is met with cruelty, dealt by the spider’s sting,
Her love is repaid with indifference, pricks like the sharpest thorn.
Amphibian progeny she raises, watched by a warrior filled with pride
Haste her child will doom, the warrior demands it still, she obeys.
A universe is born only to die again.
Her love is repaid by stillbirth; her child will never see the light of day.
Fleeing from bladed death, her last hope has yet to hatch,
She shows compassion to a wounded soul, giving it a goal.
That hope is a devil in sheep’s skin, and burns all others.
Her love is repaid with treason, and in her heart a hole.
With vengeance she rises again, less and more than she was.
The devil is cleaved by a sword of teeth. It gives her no peace.
Now she searches for a space to call her own.
Her love is waiting for a balm that the pain will cease.
He is without equal, brain like a storm
Hateful and wretched, worthless worm
Wisdom and knowledge, power unknown
Ignorant fool, his fate does bemoan
Fierce is his mind, fierce his heart too
Cowardly maggot of red and blue
She was his best friend, she could have been more
He fired and fired, left nothing but gore
He saved her life, she kissed him and smiled
Shot through the chest, while he choked on bile
He did what he could, it wasn’t his fault
He failed like always, her death couldn’t halt
Blackness unfolds him, no more red and blue
Duality vanished, the dying shouts are gone
Peace at last, a final dark dawn.
Tranquility in emptiness
Rest in the void
Clarity in blindness
Unity in death.
Pointy shades, bulbous rump
Ironic coolness, rhymes I pump
Shatterproof sword, Causal cap
Layers of satire, I take no crap
Flashy moves, tasty grooves
Never lose, always the one to choose
Faster than sound, flashing around
Cutting fools down, fighting black clowns
Jet board, can’t be ignored, check out the sword
Slashing through imps like metaphysical gourds
Grist hoard, everything afford, won every single possible award
Shit so easy, I get bored.
Got Cal, best pal, me and him is an entire cabal
Bounce a coin, try not to look sad;
It won’t get to land before I send you
Beaten so bad like a kick to the groin
You can’t beat Bro at shit, I’m simply the best there is
Holding a monopoly on the asskicking biz.
I know most people have probably already seen this on AO3, but I like to have a copy of it on the forums, if only because I started it here. 8D
8 - Rogue
Tick, tock. The time is coming.
The sky is bright. Usually the Medium is as black as space, but now that everything is in place, it’s becoming bright. Beautiful, in its own way. And so very, very loud. So loud that you can’t determine what is sounds like. It just sounds like… noise.
Who knew the unmaking of reality would be so… picturesque?
The Rhythm Plateau is rising, with you on it. Your legs are hanging off of it, dangling in the air, and the whole platform is rumbling with the clockwork workings of this grand device.
You thought it strange, at first, that this structure even existed. One big reset button, just waiting for someone to push it.
But you think that maybe you were always going to push this button.
After all, it was always going to be this way.
You look at your pocket watch once more. A gift from a friend, who died. Time was hers, but hers ran out days ago. This is the last bit of her you have. Tick, tock. The time is almost here.
It’s all going according to plan. Well, maybe that’s not entirely true; the plan sort of fell through the cracks somewhere around the time your world ended. Then it fell even deeper into the pit when Noir started killed his own queen. Then it plunged into the deepest circle of hell right about when the Witch died.
Now you’re working on a new plan, but it sort of requires you to unmake reality as you know it. There’s still plenty of time for this plan to discover a new level of hell to fall into, though.
Okay, fine, maybe the plan is a little fucked up. But there’s not much else to do. All your hope for the future died with her.
And this way, you can still save most of your friends.
The Heir has a way out. It’s a good idea.
But ideas involving massive interdimensional windows usually are, aren’t they?
They wanted you to come. All of the rest of the players. The rest of your team. Even those damn trolls. But you told them you had to make the Scratch happen. Reality had to unmake itself, and you had to make sure it did it properly. No point in this whole thing if it tripped over the finish line, after all. They didn’t like it. Of course they didn’t like it. But you made them go anyway. This was the way it had to be.
This was always how it was going to be.
You didn’t tell them the truth, of course. The Scratch doesn’t need your help. It’s an autonomous machine; once it’s started, it does its own work. But they didn’t know that. And you didn’t tell them. Because, for some reason, you can’t go with them. Not now.
Somehow, unmaking seems a better fate than living. Is that strange? Perhaps.
It’s hard, being alive. It’s hard, and nobody understands.
The others will live their lives in whatever new reality is forthcoming. Maybe they’ll win. You aren’t sure how. But their road isn’t your road.
Their way isn’t yours.
You look at your watch once more. Her watch. Her last gift to you.
Tick, tock. Only a scant few seconds, now.
You look back up. Skaia’s getting closer and closer, now. The pitch-black of the Medium is peeling away into the bright-white of the Void. Everywhere you look, something is turning to nothing. It’s like seeing the opposite of white, and also the opposite of black, all at once.
The world unmakes itself around you.
Tick, tock. Do it now.
You click the button on the watch. In three seconds, the Scratch will finish its duties. And you’ll be finished with it.
But her last gift to you can make those seconds last for a long, long time.
Tick, tock. The time has come.
And it’s beautiful. Kind of like her.
She’d have appreciated the view, you think.
The cacophony of the Void has slowed, and the lights hold themselves in the deep black, and the tearing white Void has come to a leisurely crawl, and in the deep humming of the last bits of reality dying, you hear the words you might have said to your friends, if you had decided to explain why you wanted to stay.
Go, find your own way, the Traveler says. This one was lost to you, long ago.
Last edited by ArcFour; 05-27-2012 at 10:44 PM.
My Stories
The Game, and Those Who Play: "A set of stories detailing moments in the lives of those who play the Game, and the destinies they are a part of. Some Players will fulfill their own Destinies. Others will fail. And so the Game goes."
Or: That story where ArcFour tries to achieve the improbable, with various measures of success/failure!
Or: That story that's so big that the chapters can't fit into the signature!
Or: That story that's pretty much jossed about once a week, much to the author's dismay!
Or: That story with the Sylphs. What's up with them? God.
Hmm, hopefully this is the right place to post this. I don't have an A03 account yet, so I'll put this here first. Only one chapter right now, but more to come.
Fantroll fic, but there's only one and this probably won't gain any others.
Title: Run Run Run, as Fast as You Can...
Summary:
But no matter how far, you've no place in the plan...
>> Screwthat!I'llfightformyrighttolive!
On to the Story!
> Enter name.
Your name is NIGHKE PERLMU.
You are extremely hyperactive due to the massive amounts of SUGAR LOADED SWEETS you consume daily. It's a wonder your teeth haven't rotted out of your head by now. Your attention is easy to grab but hard to keep for everything but your interests. No, this does not mean you have ADD, no matter WHAT YOUR FRIENDS SAY. Also no, you are NOT ADDICTED to candy! Okay maybe a little, but you can totally stop if you want too! Addiction may be a powerful thing, but you are MORE POWERFUL...ER!
You were born with a physical mutation that affected only your legs, and because of this you are WICKED FAST. So fast bro, you don't even know. You can regularly be found running around various areas of the planet just to get rid of your MASSIVE EXCESS OF ENERGY. Ever since you started utilizing this method to burn energy, you've found you enjoy it quite a lot, and have since taken up running as a hobby. It's nice to see so much of the planet, and it helps you relax. It's also why your hair always looks like it got caught in a windstorm, since it BASICALLY DOES EVERY SINGLE DAY.
When you aren't out running, you like to partake in your other interests, one of which is ASTRONOMY. Seeing as how you are a nocturnal species, it is the PERFECT HOBBY! There's just something magical about the universe in general, even if your species is obsessed with conquering it. You fancy yourself a self-trained ASTRONONRUSHER... or at least you would if that were a thing that existed. Which it isn't. God you wish it was.
Aside from that, your interests include EXPLORING THE VAST ALTERNIAN WILDERNESS (which is easy due to how fast you can travel), PARTAKING IN WAY TOO MANY SWEETS (good thing you run so much or you'd be rather large by this point), and RACING WITH YOUR LUSUS (you are utterly determined to beat him at some point in your life, so these races push you to your limits).
It should be noted that despite your speed, you can't FLASH STEP (though your reaction time is pretty good). You can run fast; doesn't mean you can MOVE fast. Not like that, anyways. It's the difference between ultra fast reflexes and ultra fast feet. They are two entirely seperate things, got it? (No, you're not at all annoyed by your friends claiming you can flash step, why do you ask.)
Your handle is chargingCompetitor, and you >> speaksoquicklythatsometimesnobodyhasanycluewhatyou resaying!!!
What shall you do?
> Nighke: Do something incredibly stupid while acting like an animal.
Running out of ideas for stupid things to suggest, are we? No, you don't think you will do that, thanks.
> Nighke: Your horns look... weird. Explain why.
You have no idea why your horns are so close either. It's unnatural how close together they are on your head. They've always been like this though, so everyone you know has long since stopped caring.
> Nighke: PURPLE. SHOES. Explain yourself, NOW.
Woah, that's just RUDE. These running shoes are about the most expensive thing you own- they were a gift you received on your last wriggling day from a troll much higher on the hemospectrum than you. Actually, they were meant to be taken as an insult, as they are a bit too small for you and are also meant for girls, but you failed to care upon receiving them and took to them with fervor. You love these shoes. So step off, pal.
> Nighke: Alright, then why the cape?
This isn't a cape, it's a jacket that flares out. And you wear it because it looks cool, especially when you run. No other reason.
> Nighke: So, fast dude, what strife specibus do you use?
Uh... shouldn't you look at your hive first?
> Nighke: Sure, but first explain what weapon you use!
You REALLY think you should look at your hive first.
> Nighke: Don't care! Weapon! Spill it!!!
Look, there is a certain order to this process, and it absolutely MUST be followed. Now, let's take a look at your hi-
> Nighke: WEAH. PEN. NOOOOOOWWWWWWW!!!!!!!
NO. YOU WILL LOOK AT YOUR HIVE AND YOU WILL LIKE IT.
> Nighke: FINE. Examine your stupid hive.
Gladly! So glad you agree with... you? Uh...
Well, whatever, on to showing off your respiteblock!
Honestly, there's not much in here. Your husktop is sitting on the desk over in the corner... there's your recuperacoon over in the other corner... geez, this place is kind of bare. Maybe if you were a bit higher on the hemospectrum you could afford some more stuff, but honestly you don't really need much anyways since you aren't in your hive often.
There are a couple of posters featuring FAST DUDES on your wall, including SONIC THE HEDGEBEAST, QUICKTROLL (from MEGA TROLL), and XLR8. These are the coolest characters from some of the only video games you've ever played, though XLR8 is actually from a troll tv show, not a game. But you've only ever played the game of the show, so to you he's a video game character and always will be!
There's a couple of candy wrappers on the floor, probably blown off your desk when you rushed out of the room earlier. Aside from that your block is pretty orderly.
Wait, what's that outside the window?
==>
Oh, never mind, it's just your lusus snoring in his sleep. Man oh man does he love catnaps. Good thing he's so fast at catching food and returning. You're pretty sure that if he took any more naps than he does now, you'd be subsisting on just candy at this point.
Hmm, maybe he should take more naps after all.
> Nighke: Great, great, your hive is lovely and all that. Now display your strife specibus for all to see!!!
Yes, that is exactly what you will do now. Thanks for being so VERY PATIENT. Obsessed much?
You grab your strife deck, open it up, and display... my GOD... you DISPLAY...
==>
Your FOOTKIND abstratus. This allows you to attack opponents with anything you are wearing on your feet, which is usually (but not always) utilized by performing a "kicking" motion.
What, not fancy enough? It's what works best for you! All that running has built up MASSIVE muscle strength in your legs. And you've never had the patience to train with any REAL weapon. According to your friends you've got ADD, remember?
> Nighke: Man, what a letdown...
Hey, you weren't the one who kept asking to see your kind abstratus! No one ever said it was gonna have some sort of awesome, never before seen wea-...
Hey, wait, that's not a command! And also, audience-you-don't-know-is-there, these pronouns are getting confusing. If the "you" is Nighke, then who is the other "you" he's referring too? Are there TWO "yous"? Gah, from now on, only give commands, and not ones that will make characters try to answer you! This is not a conversation, alright?!
> Nighke: Fine... wait, is that why you have a picture of Juri Han on your wall?
WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY ABOUT TALKING LIKE THIS.
Wait, what are you even talking about? You mean the picture behind your recuperacoon of the girl from Troll Street Fight- HEY! No one is supposed to see that! That's why it's hidden behind there!
Ju-just forget you saw that, okay?!
> Nighke: Think about your plans for today.
Unfortunately you really don't have much planned for today. Actually, scratch that, you HAD plans to play a certain game that a hacker acquaintance of yours recently acquired, but when you ran over to ask for a copy he told you in no uncertain terms to "Pii2 off". He doesn't like you much.
So now you have no plans for today. Boo.
> Nighke: Prepare for the end.
The end? Of what? Everything seems to be normal, what's there to prepare for?
> Nighke: Go outside, look up, see meteors, freak out.
You head outside, look up, and see absolutely nothing. It's a dark Alternian night as always. Gee, that was pointless.
> Nighke: Captchalogue your lusus.
Ooh, he is gonna be pissed if you do that. So naturally, you decide to go ahead with it. Antagonizing him always leads to a race, and you haven't had one in a while. This is gonna be awesome!
You store your lusus inside your TREADMILL modus. This was another wriggling day gift you got two sweeps ago from your best friend, and is perhaps the most useful gift you've ever received. It can store objects of any size, and has a HUGE amount of cards in it. It works by first measuring how much an object weighs in pounds (1.34 Earth pounds = 1 Alternian pound). To retrieve the object, you must reach first reach the equivalent speed (or higher) in Alternian miles per hour (which are conveniently identical to Earth miles per hour- evidently miles are identical throughout every universe), and then simply pull it out of the sylladex. For example, if the object weighs 20 Alternian pounds, you need to attain a 20 mph speed before you can retrieve it. So far the only downside to this modus you've found is that when you take a heavy object out, everything else that was lighter than it also comes out, and usually goes flying in random directions. But usually you don't have heavy stuff in here, so it's mostly a non-issue.
Currently you've got some SUHWEET SWEETS, another poster of XLR8 you haven‘t gotten around to hanging yet, and your lusus inside of it.
> Nighke: Run. Enjoy your last few hours. Maybe your lusus will survive?
Okay, you follow through on that first part but refuse to believe this is your last few hours. Seriously? Cut it out with the doomsday stuff. You decide to run over to the hacker guy's hivestem and try to get that game again. Well, actually no. You reconsider and decide to head to one of his friend's hives, of which you only know one. You're pretty sure you've got a much better chance of getting the file from her than from him, she's MUCH nicer. Regardless, you've got nothing better to do, so-
==>
HOLY SHIT METEORS WHAT THE HELL IS THIS
==>
WHAT THE HELL WHY ARE THERE METEORS RAINING DOWN?!
You scramble in the general direction of... whats-her-name's hive, or at least you think it's in that direction. Your thoughts can be summed up as follows- 'OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD I'M GONNA DIE I NEED HELP I NEED SHELTER WAIT THAT GIRL HAS PSYCHIC POWERS SHE CAN HELP CANDY'. Wait no ignore that last part. You really shouldn't be thinking about that right now.
Oh who are you kidding, she's probably not even here anymore! You know that YOU wouldn't stick around with meteors showering the-
==>
HOLY SHIT WHAT HAPPENED TO HER HIVE?! You know you haven't been here in a while, but you didn't know she was... wait...
==>
Is that a... glowing... frog... thing... WHAT?!
You suddenly understand absolutely nothing.
> Nighke: Rush over and ask frog thing what is going on.
You run over towards the ruins of what was once a hive so you can attempt to ask the glowing frog thing what happened here. This is a really stupid idea. What makes you think the thing can even talk? But hope springs eternal, you suppose. You approach the glow frog.
==>
AND THEN THERE WAS LIGHT.
==>
WAY TOO MUCH LIGHT. OH GOD YOU CAN'T SEE ANYTHING WHERE IS THIS COMING FROM.
> Nighke: Enter.
And suddenly you're surrounded by some sort of crystal, and it's everywhere, and oh God you're in trouble.
What did you just get yourself into?!
Tried to keep it original flavor, tell me how well I did. Actually, without images it's hard to keep it as funny as it would be, so nevermind that I guess. Anyways, I have everything else planned out, and if enough people like my writing style I'll make this a fan adventure. At least, assuming people don't mind my style or I can find a good artist. ^^;
Points to those who can figure out the reasoning behind the name, symbol, and charater traits!
Look at you. Look at you. You’re pathetic. You’re a miserable wretch. You’re a weakling who couldn’t keep her from using you. A weakling who couldn’t keep your friend alive.
God, it still hurts so much to think about her. About what you did to her. Someone else might be at fault, but it was still your sick, twisted power that did the deed.
You remember it well. You remember it too well; one of the downsides of being a genius. You remember that bitch taking your mind. She didn’t even falter; it was like stealing sweets from a wiggler. Sometimes you were able to stop her, but this time…
This time it all ended in rubble and blood. Her blood.
You missed her so much. She had been everything to you, everything, and you killed her. Nobody blamed you, but they should have. God, they should have. Why not? You were the one who was too weak.
Your blood has granted you all this power, and you can’t even fucking control it when it matters. What kind of troll are you? A miserable one, that’s what kind.
Worthless.
And even when she came back, she didn’t really. She was nothing but a ghost, dead in every way that mattered. All because of you.
But no. No. No, that wasn’t true at all, was it? It was Sgrub. Sgrub brought her back from the dead. Sgrub forced her from her rest, into the mockery of life she became. All because it had its stupid god damn purpose it had to fulfill, and it had to use her to do it.
Why did you help make that god damn game? Why didn’t you just… delete it? Or never work on it at all?
Maybe it was because she was the one to ask you. Maybe you couldn’t resist her, even now.
Maybe it was because Sgrub knew exactly who it needed to get you to make it.
God damn it all, you hate this game. You loathe it. You wish it had never existed.
Except… except it brought her back, in a way.
It fixed your mistake, almost.
So you made the Game, and you destroyed the world. Sgrub destroyed the world, to be specific; you were only a tool, just like every other player in your team.
Just a tool.
But the Game had given you opportunities, and you had power, so you used it. You feel right in saying that you were one of the best players in the whole game. No one was stronger than you. Nobody.
The Game might have been using you, but maybe you were starting to figure it out, starting to find out how to use it in return. And why not? You’re a genius. You put together this god damn game. Of fucking course you could figure it out.
Maybe you can even find something akin to love again. She might bring her share of issues, including a suitor who needs to be taken down a notch or two, but she’s worth it.
And bringing that bastard down a peg is a joy all in itself.
But then the Game screwed you over, and you find yourself back where you started; at the bottom. You thought you could master the Game, but it only mastered you. And now you’re all going to die.
Maybe it’s not all bad, though. She’s still here. Everyone is still here, in some way or another, and that means something, right? Even if that damn suitor is still sticking his nose into your business.
And here he is again, challenging you. What a fool. The Game might have taken your victory, but you still had power. What did this chump have?
God, you thought it’d be an easy win.
He defeats you, and he takes your eyes, and he takes your love, and he takes any bit of self-esteem you might have had left.
This is always the way it was going to be, wasn’t it? This was always going to be your fate. You were always going to have so much potential, and to waste it.
But maybe there’s one last thing you can do. One last ditch plan to save the survivors of a murder rampage. And you’re the most important part of it.
You almost told them no. You almost told them that you couldn’t do it. That you were powerless. But that wouldn’t have been true. You’ve always had power. You’ve only lacked the ability, the control, to keep it from destroying everything you ever held dear.
And with this… the only thing it’ll take, this time, is something you want to give.
So you stand in the dark, your blind eyes seeing nothing. Your friends are next to you, and you hear their gasps as they see the beacon that will guide you to your destination. You can’t see it, but you can feel it in your blood, visceral and churning.
The truth of your existence has always been thus; that your power carried a terrible price. But now it’s a price you want to pay.
So you call it up, one last time. You’ve said goodbye, in your own way. And it should be sad. But is it strange to think that you feel nothing but happiness, now? This is something you can do.
So you do it.
And it is fucking magnificent.
Your makeshift chariot move as fast as light, pinpointed towards the only safe route through the deep dark that lies outside of reality. And, as your power starts to rip through your body, boiling your blood and tearing your muscles and pulverizing your bones and tearing your voice out of your lips in an infinitely mindless scream, you’re laughing inside.
Your brain tears itself apart, and yellow blood runs from your eyes, and your screams start to sound like the words that you told them, in your own way, before you paid your final price.
Come, watch me play, the Maestro says. It’ll be a performance you’ll never forget.
My Stories
The Game, and Those Who Play: "A set of stories detailing moments in the lives of those who play the Game, and the destinies they are a part of. Some Players will fulfill their own Destinies. Others will fail. And so the Game goes."
Or: That story where ArcFour tries to achieve the improbable, with various measures of success/failure!
Or: That story that's so big that the chapters can't fit into the signature!
Or: That story that's pretty much jossed about once a week, much to the author's dismay!
Or: That story with the Sylphs. What's up with them? God.
Huh. I forgot to say! It's the Rogue of Doom. I'll go fix that.
And now I have to write the Sylph. Y U NO EASY, SYLPH?
Ideas are appreciated, since I'm pretty stumped with it so far!
My Stories
The Game, and Those Who Play: "A set of stories detailing moments in the lives of those who play the Game, and the destinies they are a part of. Some Players will fulfill their own Destinies. Others will fail. And so the Game goes."
Or: That story where ArcFour tries to achieve the improbable, with various measures of success/failure!
Or: That story that's so big that the chapters can't fit into the signature!
Or: That story that's pretty much jossed about once a week, much to the author's dismay!
Or: That story with the Sylphs. What's up with them? God.
Well, you already did the whole 'sacrifice themselves to un-doom the session' thing with the Seer, which would've been my suggestion for the Sylph (the whole 'embodies their element' thing), so I'm kind of stumped too.
Wait, I have a good idea. Similar to the Seer's, but different enough.
And if I do it right, it'll fit both my Sylph rules and the canon idea ("helps you see").
It also just occurred to me that the canon idea of the Bard ("is used by their element to destroy") is actually pretty close to what I had for the Sylph ("does not use her element, and is used by it"). At least, it's a little close.
I regret not giving the Sylph a clearer ruleset when I started. ALAS.
Last edited by ArcFour; 05-28-2012 at 11:07 AM.
My Stories
The Game, and Those Who Play: "A set of stories detailing moments in the lives of those who play the Game, and the destinies they are a part of. Some Players will fulfill their own Destinies. Others will fail. And so the Game goes."
Or: That story where ArcFour tries to achieve the improbable, with various measures of success/failure!
Or: That story that's so big that the chapters can't fit into the signature!
Or: That story that's pretty much jossed about once a week, much to the author's dismay!
Or: That story with the Sylphs. What's up with them? God.