DarkBlade77 |
Posted: 03-09-2003 , 08:10
PM |
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Ratio 4 Vanessa Abuser
 Registered: May 2001 Location: Secret Boss Stage
#1
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Survivor X:
Introduction Thread
Post
character intros here. I apologize for not making this thread
sooner. If you already put one up in the drafting thread, just put
one here, allright?
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The
Damned |
Posted: 03-09-2003 , 08:29
PM |
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Hyperion's servant
 Registered: Oct 2002 Location: Where you are
not.
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Question (yet again): If we change our character before
April 18th, do we delete the intro for our old character or just
leave it?
If the good
die young, then I'm effectively immortal.
Hyperion: "Stop the
asteriod, Magneto. Stop the asteriod, or I'll implode your
head."
Hyperion: "Give up this garbage and face the
inevitable, Magneto. You cannot defeat
me." Magneto: "Everyone has an Achilles
heel!" Hyperion: "Only Achilles had an Achilles heel.
I cannot be stopped."
Opposite attract only because
men are sluts and women are whores. Thus the equation balances out.
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DarkBlade77 |
Posted: 03-09-2003 , 08:37
PM |
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Ratio 4 Vanessa Abuser
 Registered: May 2001 Location: Secret Boss Stage
#1
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Delete
it, unless that intro is linked to your character in some manner
that you need to convey.
When it comes to storylines, you
have the most freedom.
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Bugenhagen |
Posted: 03-09-2003 , 09:36
PM |
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Hello, Mr. Forest Fairy!
 Registered: Feb 2003 Location: Right behind you.
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Out of
curiosity, will a Character Description thread show up
soon?
I hope these threads don't get lost in this gigantic
forum...
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Bowling
Pin |
Posted: 03-09-2003 , 09:41
PM |
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The 24 Edit Team Av
 Registered: Feb 2001 Location: Harker Heights, TX,
USA
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Fan
Fic Library isn't really big so it should be easy to
navigate.
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m121akuma |
Posted: 03-09-2003 , 09:50
PM |
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t3h 3v1l av: Part 2
 Registered: Apr 2001 Location: Southfield, MI.
Bitches.
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Should
Sidekicks write intros too? I was gonna anyway, just
curious.
Southfield
Board of Education: Prepared to be Schooled
quote:
Originally posted by Starhammer SRK.com is the new
evercrack. All we need is some Idiot to kill someone and blame
SRK.com for it, and its status will be
irreversible.
-Starhammer-
---Team Southfield
Website---
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MageusBlack |
Posted: 03-09-2003 , 11:36
PM |
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Grab your asses and run!
 Registered: Feb 2003 Location:
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Anyone
can write intros. It's up to the player, that's all. These aren't
even that nessercery.
Question; Should character description
go here, or in drafting or is a new thread gonna pop up for
it?
"My name is Maia, of Subaru sparkling in the heavenly dome. I
support the holy moon, and pray on your behalf..."
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Amethyst |
Posted: 03-10-2003 , 01:34
AM |
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Jellomancer
 Registered: Feb 2003 Location:
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Look, look, an
intro!
Okay,
this tournament marks kind of a change in the way I'll be playing
B/R/A. It's not much of a change, but I've just shifted a little bit
away from the main game universe (AGAIN! ) The main change is I will now be properly spacing ability
and item names. Anyway, on with the
asskicking!
---
Rain pelted down upon the shattered
tower. The group looked down at the upthrust wings of the goddess
statues below, glistening in the occasional flashes of thunder.
Three female figures, nude, with a minimum of features. No mouths,
eyes simple carved depressions. The statue was finely finished, but
the incomplete nature of the figures gave a sense of being
archetypes or concepts, not specific figures.
"Three nameless
goddesses," Blue said, as if reciting something learned early in his
life. "Of magic, intelligence, and compassion."
Rouge stood
next to his brother, gazing at the statues. "On the left,
Intelligence with angel's wings. On the right, Compassion with
demon's wings. And in the middle, the purely human aspect,
Magic."
Blue nodded. "Compassion and Intelligence aid Magic,
for without the knowledge and empathy to use it well, magic is like
an unrestrained fire. But use it well, and magic can lift you beyond
your human capabilities, as Intelligence and Compassion lift
Magic."
"Kyle said the statues hold a secret."
Fuse
groaned slightly and stepped back from the edge. "That's all well
and good, but how do we get down there? This ring is nearly
vertical, we can't get down by climbing."
Blue pointed at the
statue of Intelligence, whose wings stretched up past the ring they
stood on, and not more than five feet from it. "We
jump."
Fuse shook his head. "NO. No way in HELL am I jumping
out there and climbing down cold, rain-slicked marble."
Gen
shrugged. "Fine then. You can stay here." Turning, he leaped out
into space, grabbing onto the feathers in the statue's wing and
slowly climbing down. Emelia and the twin mages followed suit,
leaving Fuse gaping.
"Hey! Wait up! Argh... Damn you!"
Closing his eyes, Fuse leapt toward the statue, slamming into the
wing and basically sliding down it to the shoulder of the statue.
Gen stifled a chuckle. Blue and Rouge were already a short distance
away, standing on the left breast of Magic, gazing up at her
face.
Rouge looked at Blue. "You feel it too." It wasn't a
question.
"Fake goddess..."
Blue raised his left hand,
Rouge his right, and together they touched the spot where the mouth
of the statue would have been. A bead of light appeared beneath
their hands and crawled up the face of the statue to the forehead.
With a hum, a disc of energy appeared under their feet, lifting them
towards the forehead of the statue and through it.
Inside the
statue, the disc began to descend, carrying the mages past row upon
row of spherical chambers holding...
"Children...
Babies..."
"What is this place?"
The disc slowed to a
halt at the floor of the chamber, and the twins stepped off, staring
up at the creche around them. A groan from behind a column brought
them around, as a battered figure in Archmage's robes hauled itself
into view.
"Who's... there? Is that... Blue? Or
Rouge?"
Blue hurried over to the elderly mage's side. "Yes,
we're here, Archmage. What happened?" The Archmage's face was
horribly burnt, and his eyeballs useless masses of burned tissue.
Blood soaked his robes, and it was fairly obvious he didn't have
much longer to live. A fine green crystalline dust around him showed
that only the power of the Stasis Rune spell had kept him alive this
long.
"Demons... A portal to Hell opened... We knew this
would happen... This was why... You were
created."
"Created?"
"Yes. Your soul was split in this
chamber, along with your embryo. This way..." He paused for a few
moments to cough. "This way you could become the ultimate mage...
Now, Blue, go down to Hell. Defeat the demons... and save our
world."
Rouge, silent until now, looked down at the Archmage.
"You made us as a weapon? Just a tool to fight the
demons?"
The Archmage's face paled. "You... You didn't
join?"
Blue looked puzzled. "What are you taking
about?"
"When... one of you defeated the other... It was
assumed with near certainty that your souls would merge! You would
have the knowledge of every spell on this world! What...
happened?"
"We... didn't fight. We talked it over and decided
to work together."
The Archmage groaned. "No... No, no, no!
We're doomed... The world is doomed!"
Rouge snorted. "What
are you talking about? We've kicked monster ass all the way here.
Can Hell be much harder?"
The old mage gestured weakly to his
injuries. "You see... what just one of them did to me. We ran it
through all the divinations... The only way... the Lord of Hell may
be defeated... is by a wizard in command of all the spells in the
world... Only one. Two cannot defeat him. Not even the combined
might of the Magic Kingdom brought to bear... can hope to defeat
him. Only you... if you were joined. Now... we are doomed." The
Archmage's head dropped weakly to the floor.
"Dead... What do
you think we should do, brother?" Blue looked up just in time to
roll aside as a blast of energy slammed into the floor where he had
rested. Rouge spun about, hands rising, blue-green fire crackling
around them. The form of a demon loomed into the room from behind
another column, green dust flaking off it as the Stasis Rune spell,
placed by the Archmage, wore off of it as well. Rouge chanted,
aiming one hand at the demon.
"Energy Chain!"
As Rouge
felt the arcane energies swirl around him, he heard Blue chanting as
well. A shaft of lambent aquamarine energy sprang from the red-clad
wizard's hand, splashing against the demon's hide and spreading into
binding strands that wrapped tightly around the hellspawn. With a
mighty heave, Rouge placed his hands around the chain and swung the
demon upward. As the demon neared the top of its arc, Blue finished
his spell and flung both arms into the air.
"Destiny lies in
my hands! Stop movement! Time Eclipse!"
The room darkened for
a moment as the tolling of a great clock sounded. As the light
returned, the demon lay frozen at the peak of its arc. Rouge grinned
and crouched, one hand going to his waist where the Comet Blade
still rested.
"Break the body, destroy the spirit... Dead
End!"
The katana flashed from its sheath as Rouge dashed
forward and up, sword moving to intersect the demon's body. With a
blast of energy, Rouge stopped in midair on the other side of the
demon and turned, dealing a swift downward stroke. The body of the
hellspawn smashed to the floor in two separate pieces. Panting,
Rouge dropped slowly to the floor, sliding the Comet Blade back into
its sheath.
Blue idly walked over and nudged the demon corpse
with his toe as the time enchantment wore off it and ichor began
leaking across the floor. He sighed.
"Doomed... What should
we... Huh?"
"What?" Rouge noticed Blue was staring over his
shoulder at something behind him. Rouge turned, catching sight of a
rippling distortion in the air. He frowned. "Is
this..."
"It's not a Gate spell... Is it another
tournament?"
Rouge stepped slowly forward, reaching one hand
out to touch the surface of the distortion. The air thickened and
solidified around his arm, and he was yanked into the rippling air.
Blue thought for a moment, gazing at the corpses of the Archmage and
the demon. "Maybe..."
He walked forward and into the
gate.
The ripples ceased, leaving behind only the two dead
bodies and the echoes of a single
word.
"Ouch."
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MageusBlack |
Posted: 03-10-2003 , 02:01
AM |
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Grab your asses and run!
 Registered: Feb 2003 Location:
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EDIT:
Fiddle, didi... The happy peanut frolics towards the magical tree of
impending DOOM!
(Basically I'm not happy with what I wrote.
Continue to the next post! Don't mind this! Yes! Go now! Right
now... Good foruming person...)
Last
edited by MageusBlack on 04-07-2003 at 08:33 AM
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Bowling
Pin |
Posted: 03-10-2003 , 08:37
AM |
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The 24 Edit Team Av
 Registered: Feb 2001 Location: Harker Heights, TX,
USA
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“Yeah Don't think I forgot about your fat ass
though Irv Runnin' around takin' pictures like you Puff Daddy
and the family muthafucka And that bitch Charli Baltimore bitch
look like she died last week pale as fuck Paint her hair red
think she gone sell records tryin' to impersonate Pink and shit
bitch Punk ass mothafuckas All you mothafuckas get wrote on
nigga Ain't no mothafuckas leave her alone cause she a bitch
fuck that nigga. Fuck all of it but not you Ashanti baby you
know how I feel about you baby, come on come here girl Come on
gimme some love girl Fuck Irv Gotti you know how me and you do
baby You know they say I'm sexy now Hey Irv your mama got a
thing for me.”
“ARGH!!! AGH, NO, NAH, TURN IT THE HELL
OFF!!!”
K9999 hollered from behind a driver side seat. He,
Angel, Foxy, and Kula, all agents of NESTS, were cooped up within
the cab of a delivery truck. K9999 was uncomfortable, what with that
limited seating and the 50-Cent song blaring from the CD player in
the cab.
“Angel, tell him to knock it off. He’s banging from
behind my seat,” said Foxy with a cool, but annoyed
boredom.
“HEY, STUPID, SHUT UP ALREADY! It’s not as if we’re
making you listen to pop music!” Angel got up from her seat and
whacked K9999 in the head, but not before bumping her head on the
low ceiling of the cab. “Ow!”
“ARGH, AGH!!! 50-CENT MIGHT AS
WELL BE POP, AHH!!!” K9999, however, did not stop his boisterous
cry.
“What the?! 50-Cent is SO not pop! You must be a dipshit
or something; I bet those experiments on your brain made you
retarded.”
“Actually, Angel...” Foxy interrupted. “50-Cent
is gaining quite a bit of popularity with the youngsters. Give it a
month, and he could be a household name, and become a pop
artist.”
“Oh hell, not you either! 50-Cent is pure,
aggressive, ghetto rap; not that you hear a lot of that nowadays
since those bastards KILLED everything rap was all about...” Angel,
infuriated, continued on an earlier rant she made about the music
industry; however, she just secretly wanted to justify her usage of
Kazaa Lite.
“They? You mean, the industry which wants to make
a profit? What company ISN’T made to make a profit? Music companies
are in to make a profit. Sony is in to make a profit. Microsoft? In
to make a profit. Kazaa? Of course they’re making money. And don’t
tell me we aren’t working for a company that isn’t trying to get
paid.” Foxy was making her point clear to Angel that she was getting
tired of her anti-corporate ranting. “He hasn’t stopped pushing my
seat yet. Kula, can you slap him, please?”
“Yes. I will.”
Kula responded coldly, but it was in her nature. She slapped
K9999.
“WHAT?! NOOOO!!! ARGH, NO, 50-CENT, YOU SLAPPING ME,
ARGH!!! HELP ME, KANEDA!!!” K9999 stopped squirming, and shouting,
and everyone waited to hear if someone, somewhere would shout back
“TETSUO!!!” No one.
“But what I said is still right...50-Cent
isn’t pop.” Angel wanted to continue her discussion.
“Listen,
maybe you’ve become a little too overzealous...no, scratch that
‘maybe.’ But you seem to have forgotten that ‘pop’ means ‘popular.’
Now, I don’t care what kind of music is popular for a general
audience; if all of a sudden, M.C. Hammer, Cocteau Twins, ABBA, and
DaRude’s crack headed step cousin become popular and start playing
on MTV, then they’re pop music. They might be a little watered down
for general ‘consumption,’ but they’re still pop. Now, kindly, shut
the fuck up. And your Kazaa Mix is over, if you haven’t noticed
already.”
“...whatever.” Angel responded. She’s not
hardcore! She thought. She replaced the ‘Kazaa Mix,’ much to
K9999’s glee, and replaced it with her ‘Kazaa Mix 3,’ which features
less 50-Cent, and more random trance and happy
hardcore.
“NOOO!!! I...CAN’T STAND...THE AMBIENCE ANY
LONGER!!! ARGH, THE HEAT, THE UNBEARABLE HEAT!!!” K9999’s arm
started to puff up and grow several inches in width, in a disgusting
display of sudden teenage growth spurt.
“Dammit, he just
won’t shut up...Angel, crack the windows,” Foxy
commanded.
“...nope. Windows are not cracking. Damn, it...is
hot.”
“Well then, Kula. Plan B.”
“Yes.” Kula got up
from her seat and pushed a switch to a small fan attached in the
back corner of the cab. “Everything is in order.”
“Are you
happy now, Four-Nine?”
“...NAH!...now I wanna see, Angel’s
boobies,” smirked K9999.
“WHAT DID THAT LITTLE BASTARD SAY?!”
Angel got up in a fit, and in fury, jumped from her seat and wailed
upon K9999 with blind fists of anger. K9999 took the opportunity to
fondle one boob.
“Oooh...y0ur b00b is t3h s0ph7,” K9999
uttered in l337. In a blazing explosion of wrath, Angel picked up
K9999 and chucked him over Foxy’s seat. The young man landed, face
first, into Foxy’s crotch.
“GET HIM THE HELL OUT OF, NO, OFF
ME!!!” she shouted, throwing her characteristic confidence out the
window. Kula came to Foxy’s aid by grabbing K9999; however, as he
was stuck in Foxy’s crotch, she lost all her calm and their truck
started to swerve. Large knocks and loud bangs could be heard from
the trailer behind.
“...ooooh shiiiit.” was Angel’s quick
assessment of the noise out back. Kula successfully got K9999 out of
Foxy’s crotch and planted him on Angel’s unoccupied
seat.
“...wow...I hope we didn’t bang up -the cargo-. I’m
stopping the truck to check up on -him.-” Foxy did that, and
motioned her fellow agents out as she opened the cab’s
door.
They drove through an arid desert in the United States,
their destination being NESTS HQ North America Southwest. Foxy’s
group found their target, the very cargo being held in the trailer,
the day before, from the hands of a...rival
organization.
“Well, maybe he didn’t wake from the big
bumps?” asked Angel.
“If the bumps didn’t wake him,
Four-Nine’s ranting did.” responded Foxy. K9999 was about to yell
out, but Foxy shook her head, violently. They made their way behind
the trailer, and once they opened it, examined the condition of the
makeshift laboratory that was constructed within it. They had a man
propped onto a flat bed, who was their supposed cargo. Under
suppressed drugs, he was rendered unconscious.
“The
transfusion should have ended approximately two hours before hand.
Therefore, that objective is not in jeopardy.” said Kula, in a cold
monotone, as if anyone were concerned whether the aforementioned
transfusion was completed. Angel whipped out a flashlight from her
pockets and surveyed the broken bottles, vials, and miscellaneous
lab equipment.
“Hey, what’s that thing we have connected to
his brain?” Angel asked Foxy.
“...uh, I think it
checks...mind-wave patterns. ... For synchronization or something.”
Foxy answered, unsure.
“Actually, there is a machine attached
to his arm; there is only a spare pasta strainer knocked onto his
head during the rattling of the trailer minutes ago,” corrected
Kula.
“...okay, then, I think that machine is the one that
extracts the Hulk blood.”
“But this isn’t the Hulk, right?
Wasn’t he the big green dinosaur on TV?” asked Angel, noting that
the man in the trailer was neither big, green, or a
dinosaur.
“He was a large green man. The data we compiled
stated that he was the transformation of the man we see here: Dr.
Banner, a plain-Jane scientist...with a knack of being hard to find.
Oh, and if you had read your reconnaissance report, you’d have known
that footage was all a sham. ”
“Oh yeah. But it was
easy for us, because when -The Secret Conspiracy- finally nabbed
him, we just bombed the place. Right? ... And are you sure that
video was a fake? He even killed the cute Ricky boy.”
“Well,
when you put it that way, the sense of accomplishment leaves me. ...
But we do have him in our possession now,” responded Foxy, with a
sense of disappointment. “And does it really matter if the damn
report was fake or not?”
“One thing though; why did Zero ask
us to give him another dose of Kusanagi’s blood?” asked Angel
again.
“Because Kusanagi is among the most powerful
beings in the world.”
“But look at all the ... clones
we came up with! We had to burn up about a couple hundred million
Kyo Kusanagis, and do you know how many we didn’t get? Tons! Don‘t
even get me started on the mistakes! Krizalid, hell, aren’t there
fifteen of Krizalid?”
“That defeat was a humiliation to
NESTS...but we should only be concerned with our
orders.”
“You know what Foxy?” Angel, accusingly, put her
finger to Foxy’s chest. “You need to take charge, make some real
goals.”
“I do. Get your finger off me.” Foxy lifted Angel’s
accusing finger off of her.
“Yeah, you take charge. But what
you take charge of are the orders that the big wigs cram down your
throat! You need independence.” With that, Angel found a large bag
of cactus-flavored snacks behind the broken laboratory
paraphernalia. She tore it open, and popped prickly chips into her
mouth. “Mmm...did you know they had cactus-flavored
Fritos?”
“Actually, those are cactus-flavored Doritos.” Kula
calmly interrupted.
“Whatever.”
“Wait...the thing you
said about...me not taking enough charge?” Foxy was somewhat
disturbed; she’d worked her way to the top of the NESTS hierarchy
from the lowly bottom that was the grunt. She had inherited disdain
with the executives who now directly boss her around. “I don’t care
about the big wigs. But I don’t care about this job either. I just
want to do what’s right for said situation.”
“Like I said,
whatever. Mmm...” Angel was pleasantly eating her cactus-flavored
Doritos when K9999 caught a whiff of them.
“YOU! ...GOT
CHIPS!!! FOXY, FOXY, I’M...GONNA TAKE ‘EM!!!” K9999 screamed, but no
one took heed of it. He shut up.
“I feel sorry for him.” Kula
spoke softly, and broke the silence.
“...why do you say
that?” asked Foxy.
“According to reconnaissance, he ’walks
the earth.’ He truly is alone. ... I can relate.”
“Kula?”
Angel settled her Doritos on the floor.
“Everything is
secure, and there’s nothing important here to notice. Let’s just go,
okay?” Foxy took charge, again, and gestured her comrades out of the
trailer. They were walking to the cab, when Angel asked
K9999:
“Why the hell would you think 50-Cent is
pop?!”
“...Cuz he’s popular. AND I’M HARDCORE!!!”
“Oh,
shut up you two.” Foxy broke in. The NESTS group drove off, and
didn’t find out that their cargo was missing until Angel went back
in the trailer a few hours later to get her cactus-flavored
chips.
IP: Logged |
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Baka
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Posted: 03-10-2003 , 11:25
AM |
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Heaven or Hell?
 Registered: Feb 2003 Location:
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A
short disclaimer before I start, Any references to religion in this
or any upcoming posts are not meant as a reflection on Christianity
or suchlike in any way. I feel I should get this out of the way
before I begin. I'm playing a religious character, therefore there
will be religious references. And now, the overture
commences…
Always in your Shadow – Kiske
0:1
Rushing into the clearing, Ky Kiske dropped his
weapon in surprise and half knelt, half fell down by the metallic
form lying there…
“This... what the...” he exclaimed, shock
forcing the usually calm young man into a nervous stammer – “Justice
has been rendered powerless?”
Who could have – when even
Lord Kliff was defeated? No one man could have the skill and power
to destroy Justice like this… but the evidence was there. The
Lord of all Gears lay broken and useless before him, and on the
rocks around him, marks of the fight – telltale signs…
“This
flame, and lava... it was him...”
Sol.
But this
was not the time to wonder how, or why. This was a time for action –
by the lord, if there ever was a time for action, now was it.
“Magical Unit, forward!” he cried, calling out to the
remnants of the Holy Army that still answered to his command. ”We
will seal Justice!”
Under the light of a hundred-year
moon, the two hopes met in battle. In 2175, the long Holy War ended
with the sealing of Justice. Humanity returned to the road of peace,
but the blood-soaked tragedy hidden behind the
scenes...
Those who know the true meaning behind it are still
few.
----------
Ky put a hand on the rotting
lintel and peered inside. The church stood in a clearing devoid of
life. Once, this place had teemed with life, a verdant centre to a
bustling town. No more though. Not since those days… Inside, the air
was musty, stale, like no-one had passed through here in years. Most
likely, he was the first living thing to breathe this air since the
Crusades.
The destruction of this city… had happened a long
time before, but the walls of this place cried out to him in pain.
The government said it was quick and easy - it was amazing what
could be hushed up when it needed to be. Stepping over the porch, he
brushed aside a cobweb and began to pace slowly down the aisle.
The Guilty Gear case. Years upon years of searching for an
answer, a reason for the madness that had overtaken his world. Years
of fighting, struggling against the odds. Justice. Dizzy. And now
this new organisation, the Shuusen Kanrikyoku, as they called
themselves. Or at least, that was the name their lackeys used. Who
knew who they were really?
Ky Kiske didn’t. Someone must..
that man, perhaps. All the signs pointed to him, whoever he was, but
something just didn’t add up. The red witch seemed at odds with the
Shuusen, and she was definitely in the service of ‘That Man.’ If
only he could discover the key, that one cryptic clue that would
lead him to the culprits – then he could stop those damned robotic
clones of him, and by god he would make this world whole
again!
….There he went again. Taking the Lord’s name in vain.
He found himself doing that more and more these days. Always
unconciously, of course, but… was he being punished for it? Or was
the Lord saving it to strike him when he least expected it? Reaching
the end of the aisle, he perched on a pew and looked around at the
ruins. The roof – what existed of it – hung loose, flapping in the
wind. As he looked up to the darkening sky, a drop of rain hit his
face, running down his cheek to collect on the point of his chin.
Under the violet light of an autumn evening, Ky held up one hand and
almost laughed.
“It never rains, but it pours.” he chuckled
to himself, standing again and adjusting the sheath of his sword –
the Fuuraiken. Walking slowly over to the altar, he brushed a thick
layer of dust off and uprighted a candlestick. It was a shame, a
place like this left to the ravages of time. Too many things were
spoiled by the Crusades, by the Gears. And by him, by
Sol.
Sol Badguy – a pseudonym for sure, but hiding what? That
man was deserving of an entire division to himself. Holding the
Fuuenken that should be in the Holy Order’s vaults, and walking
around with his secrets – that man knew too much that he wasn’t
sharing! Everything about Sol taunted him again and again. Kliff’s
failed student, and yet it was he who defeated Justice all those
years ago…rumours were even flying around to the effect that he was
the one who found the rogue Gear, Dizzy, not that Jam Kuradoberi who
claimed the reward.
Sol Badguy. Head suspect in the Guilty
Gear case, and still at large. Ky had tried to make friends with him
once, back in the Order, but they were so different, too different.
The Lord moved in mysterious ways, and one of those ways was Sol, it
would seem. Some called him an act of God himself, a name Ky
shuddered to hear. One day, Ky had vowed, he would find Sol and make
him answer – for Justice, for Dizzy, for everything he had
done.
A heavy splash of water startled him out of his
reverie. The rain was starting to pelt down heavily now, and Ky’s
coat sleeves were damp and dripping already. Not much remained for
him here, just… just the reason he came here. Kneeling at the altar,
he pulled his palms together and closed his eyes.
“Our
father, who art in heaven..”
No. Not that one.
“Dear
Lord. Please remember this hallowed ground. What once was lost has
been reclaimed, and your servant will always remain by your side,
your will to serve. And forgive and remember those who lost their
lives here – in defense and tyranny, all are equal in thy eyes. Have
mercy upon their souls… and… guide your messenger to enlightenment.
Amen.”
The first was a standard plea – travelling through
cities broken by the war, you learned to reiterate your requests –
but the last part was a personal plea. It was here that everything
happened, everything came to a head, all those years ago. The
Crusades… sometimes a distant memory, and then sometimes he could
relive events in his head like they were happening there and then.
Right now, he could almost feel the heat of the fires raging thourgh
the city.
Too many had died for the sake of justice.
And too many more had died for the sake of
Justice.
Justice. The Gear who led the armies that had
ravaged the world – and then it was found on the verge of death.
That was the second time Sol Badguy had escaped from him, and it
most definitely hadn’t been the last. One day, he would catch him,
and they would finally settle their long feud. The Fuuenken would
return to America where it belonged, and Sol would be…. Ky didn’t
know what would happen to Sol. It was a topic he avoided thinking
about.
But that was for the future, and he was not here for
that. Right here, eight long years before, Ky had made a promise.
Upon his honour as a knight, he would never let another innocent die
a violent death. In the Lord’s name, he would strive to keep the
peace to the best of his abilities. It was a vow he had kept to this
day, and – and he started out of his reverie as a shadow fell over
him. A familiar smell wafted past, and a voice rang out, cutting
into any train of thought he might have built up, brushing it aside
and trampling it into the
dirt.
“Yo.”
Baka // Black
Angel // Salva Nos
"I'm not good- looking enough to be
party leader." - Robin Cook
Last
edited by Baka on 03-25-2003 at 04:23 AM
IP: Logged |
|
Exeter |
Posted: 03-10-2003 , 02:22
PM |
|
Rock You
 Registered: Feb 2003 Location:
|
~Man on the Prowl~ Sol Badguy--Greatest Hits,
Track 1
The tendril of smoke rose idly into the crisp
afternoon air, silent and carefree, undaunted by any recollections
of the past or premonitions of the future, concerned with naught but
its own boundless freedom.
The
tiny flame from whence it had arisen, meanwhile, found itself
content to rest upon the end of its cylindrical fuel source,
seemingly unaware that it was gradually destroying that which gave
it life. It looked up at the smoke reprovingly, as if to say,
‘it's better to burn out than to fade
away.’
--gimme the prize gimme the
prize--
The flame was soon proven right, or so it
thought. A low, foreboding howl was all the warning the smoke had
before a sudden gust sent it reeling, dissipating until all that
remained was a dim haze.
‘See what your
freedom gets you?’ the flame scoffed. Thinking oneself worthy
of true freedom was a path to ruin. Better to take what you were
given while it lasted, and not reach for that which was
unattainable.
The flash of lightning overhead served a
fitting reply as the rain began to fall, and the flame could only
hiss as it was snuffed out.
Freedom and frailty, strength and
slavery. The smoke and the flame. Either choice would be perilous,
and to brave the two together was sheer madness.
--sheer
heart attack--
And yet the source of both endured despite
the coming storm.
For a moment, anyway.
As a final
prayer to a pair of fallen friends, the man paused to look up at the
cloudy gray sky thoughtfully, heedless of the rain sliding off his
brow. He then glanced down to the flame’s final resting place on the
end of the cylinder of life, which had already begun to fall from
his outstretched fingers.
“Cheap fucking cigarettes,” he
muttered, reaching into his pocket for another but finding it
empty.
Tugging on the hood of his gray-green cloak in
disgust, he continued up the cobblestone path.
And, on a
whim, he began to keep pace with the beat in his
head...
Steve walks warily down the street With his
brim pulled way down low Ain't no sound but the sound of his
feet Machine guns ready to go
Stepping over a pile of
rubble, the man tapped the corner of the ruined building on his left
with his flat-ended broadsword Fuuenken, also known as the
Fireseal.
It seemed familiar, somehow, that
building...
Are you ready hey are you ready for
this? Are you hanging on the edge of your seat?
His
eyes narrowed.
It had been a day much like this one, in
fact...
Out of the doorway the bullets rip To the sound
of the beat yeah
And Frederick Nash, alias Sol Badguy,
remembered...
His battle cry echoing
through the city, Floyd Decker charged the first Gear with all the
fury of Heaven.
Shrugging as if to apologize for its actions,
the humanoid Gear batted the boy’s sword aside and buried its clawed
hand into his ribs, lifting his quivering body high into the
air.
--crunch--
Another one bites the
dust
The pool of rain and blood formed an
intricate pattern at his feet.
Another one bites the
dust
“Floyd!”
Decker’s
cousin, Louis. Dead two days later.
And another one
gone
“No!”
Ky Kiske.
And another one gone
In response
to the cries of anguish, the Gear tossed Floyd’s body into the
general store beside him.
Another one bites the
dust
Floyd crumpled and lay still, and the
wall collapsed around him.
It was a fitting
burial.
Most were left in the street to rot, back
then, especially that close to the end...Decker had been
lucky.
Hey I'm gonna get you too
Well, in a
manner of speaking.
The Gear took a step
forward, daring the next foolhardy hero to try his
luck.
Another one bites the dust
And then it smirked.
He would always
remember that smirk.
And the beat stopped dead.
“Knights, hold steady!” Kliff ordered, his voice raspy
with age but nonetheless strong.
The swordsmen on either side
of him, little more than boys, nodded in assent and prepared for the
onslaught.
And the Gears marched
forward.
It had been...eight years? Nine? He had
lost track.
Time was meaningless to him now...
...as
were thoughts of that which was already said and done.
He
couldn’t save the fallen.
All he was capable of was causing
more death.
This time, though...this would be the
last.
Then it would be over.
And the beat began
again...
Are you happy are you satisfied? How long can
you stand the heat Out of the doorway the bullets rip To the
sound of the beat
look out
And, just as
quickly as it had begun, it was gone.
The church stood before
him, at least in his mind, as proudly as it had during the
Crusades.
Just like how it had looked the day he had left
them all to die.
--all dead all dead--
Shaking
his head, Sol paused just outside the door, the Fireseal gripped
firmly.
If his information was accurate, and it seldom was
not...
He would be there.
Waiting.
Along
with I-no and Raven, hopefully.
And at last...the
end.
The former knight ran a finger along his
headband --rock you-- as something within him
stirred.
Something...feral.
--dragon
attack--
No...not yet.
It would be time for that
soon enough.
He was dead on time, after all.
And Sol,
the Guilty Gear, stepped through the doorway to
face--
Kiske!?
The young French swordsmen knelt
at the altar, absorbed in his
prayers.
Hypocrite...
Had the boy still learned
nothing?
Justice. Hah.
Aloud, he uttered but one
word.
“Yo.”
Another one bites the
dust
IP: Logged |
|
Kellios |
Posted: 03-10-2003 , 05:29
PM |
|
Ex-Turk
 Registered: Feb 2003 Location: Alone
|
quote:
Originally posted by colguile Damn, thats some long
ass shit.
Glad I picked a simple yet kickass character
whom only speaks english.
Ha! Just you wait
XD
As I stand here today with the world as my witness, I pledge
to you my undying and everlasting love. I
will stand beside you as your partner, I will stand before you
as your protector, And I will stand behind you as your solace. Please spend and end your life with me.
IP: Logged |
|
Lantis |
Posted: 03-10-2003 , 06:14
PM |
|
Death roams next door
 Registered: Mar 2001 Location: Between hell and a
world filled with grief. Take your pick
|
INTRO
A dark figure looms in the obscure corners
of a high mountain. The full moon glares its' luminous face upon the
forest which spreads out beneath the huge stone behemoth. The clock
nears 9:00 pm, and the sinister shape silthers out of a small cave
located near the peak of the mountain.
The shadows seem to
follow his path. His eyes have the rage of murder, and his eerie
smile, the scent of death. He glances at the vast scenery that
spreads beneath him. A semi-cold wind begins to blow, waving his
long white hair in the precious night. In his hand, shines the cold
steel of his lethal blade...and his aura summons for the blood of
many. His very essence itself, is the testimony of many haunted
souls who have died in battle.
Setsuna watches a falcon fly
closely around him. He stretches out his hand, and the falcon lands
on his forearm. He smiles as he pets his animal friend.
"My
dear friend...gaze upon our moment of triumph! Before us extends the
greatest battle of all...dozens of fighters to slay at our pleasure!
The blood of the brave...it confuses itself with the scream of the
damned! And I...*I* am the one who shall rise triumphant over the
bodies of the weak!"
Evil laughter bursts out through the
valley. The eerie swordsman, Setsuna, has set his sight on the
upcoming tournament. And no one can stop his lust for
blood....
Want to take
me on another time? Sorry, life is too short to wait for your brain
to assimilate your stupidity.
*First Champion of SRK Survivor
Tournament - Character: Rock Howard *6th place in SRK Survivor
Tournament II - Character: Kibagami Genjuro *6th place in SRK
Character Battle Poll - Character: Flik
She once believed in
every story he had to tell. One day she differed, took the other
side. Empty stares from each corner of a shared prison cell.
One just escaped, one is left in side the rails. He who
forgets will be destined to remember.
IP: Logged |
|
m121akuma |
Posted: 03-10-2003 , 10:16
PM |
|
t3h 3v1l av: Part 2
 Registered: Apr 2001 Location: Southfield, MI.
Bitches.
|
Destiny works in mysterious ways. Take for example the
case of Mr. Dan Hibiki, Pimpmasta extrordanaire. ***
Dan
was in his office at Shotopimps HQ, meditating. Of course, for him,
that meant that he was lying back on his cushy chair, sippin' on
pink lemonaide while his hoes give him a good foot massage. It was
one of the few times he was ever able to truely relax and gather his
thoughts after a hard day's work. His inner peace didn't last long,
however, when his secretary, Morrigan, entered the
room.
"Pimpdaddy Dan, there is a man here who wants to see
you. He says it's urgent."
Dan was reasonably annoyed.
"Bitch, don't interupt me when I'm becoming one with myself an'
shit! Just tell him I'm busy."
Morrigan walked out of the
room. Dan tried to clear his mind once more, but his concentration
had been broken. He closed his eyes....and flashed them open as he
heard a slap from outside his office. His hoes ran to the corner of
his office in terror. Dan quickly ran out to investigate.
The
hall was filled with baby powder. Dan squinted though the fog of
skin care formula to see Morrigan lying on the ground, a huge red
mark on her cheek. Standing obove her was an enormous figure,
wrapped in a large, black cloak. His hand was extended in front of
him, open, baby powder spewing from his palm.
"Who the Hell
are you!?" was all the Pimpmasta could manage to say.
"I have
been looking for you Mr. Hibiki. Your destiny awaits
you."
"What are you talking about??!! I've got enough trouble
here in Detroit without all of this lame-ass destiny shit. Pimpin'
ain't easy, you know."
The figure was not impressed. "You are
a great warrior. You are needed for the battle to come." He snapped
his fingers.
Suddenly, a large portal appeared beneath Dan,
sucking him through. "YOU SONUVA!!!!!" was the last that was heard
of him.
Pleased, the figure reached into his cloak and pulled
out his "To Do List".
"Wait...I was supposed to get THAT
Hibiki?! The chick with the sword? Aw shit! Maybe nobody will
notice...."
Southfield
Board of Education: Prepared to be Schooled
quote:
Originally posted by Starhammer SRK.com is the new
evercrack. All we need is some Idiot to kill someone and blame
SRK.com for it, and its status will be
irreversible.
-Starhammer-
---Team Southfield
Website---
Last
edited by m121akuma on 03-10-2003 at 10:24 PM
IP: Logged |
|
m121akuma |
Posted: 03-10-2003 , 10:23
PM |
|
t3h 3v1l av: Part 2
 Registered: Apr 2001 Location: Southfield, MI.
Bitches.
|
Oh,
and props to Exeter and Baka for great intros.
Wow...
Southfield
Board of Education: Prepared to be Schooled
quote:
Originally posted by Starhammer SRK.com is the new
evercrack. All we need is some Idiot to kill someone and blame
SRK.com for it, and its status will be
irreversible.
-Starhammer-
---Team Southfield
Website---
IP: Logged |
|
Baka
|
Posted: 03-11-2003 , 06:03
AM |
|
Heaven or Hell?
 Registered: Feb 2003 Location:
|
Thanks
akuma - and there's more to come 
Baka // Black
Angel // Salva Nos
"I'm not good- looking enough to be
party leader." - Robin Cook
IP: Logged |
|
Netz
Ausg |
Posted: 03-11-2003 , 02:26
PM |
|
Junior Member
Registered: Mar 2003 Location:
|
Part
One
Newspapers blew about the streets of Madripoor, the sea
wind catching them and making a stream of litter flow along alleys
and roads. The docks were quiet that night, instead of the usual
night time hustle and bustle of late night deliveries. Stepping down
from the step of one of the less reputable drinking establishments
of the harbour a lone figure dropped a glowing cigar and stamped it
out.
Moving down and along the alley behind the building,
stepping over a battered and bruised drunk, he made his way to the
pier.
Arriving in good time he leant against a railing and
lit up a second cigar. Pulling his hat’s peak lower down, he blew
out a long stream of smoke and sniffed the air.
“Glad you
could make it Creed,” he muttered between gritted teeth, “Been
wonderin’ if you’d show.”
A shadow removed it self from the
hut at the end of the pier and purposefully stalked to the side of
the leaning man. Stuffing his hands in his pocket, the one who had
been waiting grunted his acknowledgement and stood beside
him.
“Who’re we waitin’ for now?”
The man named Creed
nodded toward the warehouses at the other end of the docks and said
“Just about half the Yakuza and the Hand if your less than subtle
approach was noticed. We’re gonna have to sort out your tactics
Logan.”
Letting a noncommittal sound, Logan simply folded his
arms and closed his eyes before taking a long drag on his cigar. “We
could use a good fight, it’s been too long since we tangled with
these kids together. Maybe we can get those nails of yours polished
later, but you can get your hands a little dirty every now and
then.”
“Hah, that’ll be the same day you get your claws
trimmed my friend.” Looking about him, Creed sniffed the air and
frowned.
“You smell it too, huh?”
“Yeah, smells like
clean”
“Too clean, Creed.”
A dark object flew
out of the night, embedding in the railing that both Logan and Creed
had been leaning on a fraction of a second before. Within seconds
the pier was full of red and black clothed men, all drawing swords
and staffs, circling the two foreigners.
“Looks like they
were payin’ attention after all.”
Creed sneared and ripped
away his large jacket. “How about we teach ‘em to look the other way
when it’s good for ‘em.”
“Deal.”
Two to
tango...
IP: Logged |
|
Bugenhagen |
Posted: 03-11-2003 , 10:28
PM |
|
Hello, Mr. Forest Fairy!
 Registered: Feb 2003 Location: Right behind you.
|
Author’s note: As these previous parts take hundreds
of years before the events of Majora’s Mask, certain names and
places common to the Zelda universe are somewhat altered to fill
this age gap. Much of the terrain of Termina changed over the
hundreds of years, languages have altered, and names
change.
Pre-Survivor X Part One, Section
One
Creation
The trip was long, and
Ma’hora was old, but he still managed to make the month-long journey
every year. The old shaman remembered back when he was a student of
his father, fourty-four years ago, climbing the Snowhead mountain
range to gather the essential herbs for their small tribe. Years and
journeys later, Ma’hora was still taking the long journey, and
eagerly awaited the time when he would take his own son, who was
also learning to be a shaman.
But not this year. Next year,
he would be ready.
As always, Ma’hora had traveled the
forests and climbed the mountains to reach the peak. There, he had
lived with the rock people, the Gho-rons, and had spent a month
gathering and preserving the herbs that he used in medicines and
rituals throughout the year. After he had collected enough to fill
several packs, he caught a ride with the fish-men, the Zoh-rons, who
would ferry him back to their seaside village. Although the
Zoh-rons, an amphibious species, rarely sailed, their knowledge of
the waters and seas made them good sailors, and they were more than
willing to go a little out of their way to help the old
shaman.
The Zoh-rons left him a little ways away from shore.
Ma’hora always paddled the last mile alone.
As he softly
glided through the morning mist and calm sea, he coul hear the voice
of Alea. ”I’ll be back here in a month,” he remembered
telling her. ”You can wait for me here.” Alea was six,
energetic, and also madly in love with Ma’hora, though they were
sixty years apart in age. Her cheerfulness and confidence always
made him laugh, and he treated her like a granddaughter. Her father,
Odolwa, was the village chief, and he was more than happy to have
someone to be a good role model for his daughter.
“Ma’hora’s
back! Ma’hora’s back!” screamed Alea giddily. As Ma’hora neared the
beach, he could see the figures of Alea and her young friends
running toward his boat. As his boat scraped the sandy bottom,
Ma’hora jumped out, kneeled down, and welcomed Alea with open
arms.
“Ma’hora! You’re back!” she said, giving him a large
hug. “Did’ja get me anything?”
“Of course,” replied Ma’hora.
He reached into his belt and pulled out a single flower, dried and
pressed, but still beautiful. It’s pure white petals seemed to
glisten, dry though they were.
“This is a Snow Lilly,” he
said, giving it to her. Alea held it reverently. “These only bloom
in the winter, and high in the mountains. I was lucky to find it,
and when I saw it, I immediately thought of you.”
Alea
giggled. “Thanks, Ma’hora,” she replied, tying the long stem to her
tan dress. She gave the old shaman a quick peck on the cheek, then
ran off to her friends, who were all very impressed by the
gift.
“Ma’hora!” shouted a familiar voice. Ma’hora turned to
see a figure running toward him.
“Odolwa!” Ma’hora replied as
he recognized the young chief. Odolwa gave the old man a brotherly
hug, and grinned.
“It’s about time you came back, Ma’hora. We
haven’t had rain since you left. Things haven’t been the
same.”
“All things in good time, my old friend,” replied
Ma’hora. Catching his boat before it drifted off, he and Odolwa
managed to pull it up to shore. Odolwa nodded at the generous
ammount of herbs that Ma’hora had managed to gather.
“We’ll
need it, you know,” remarked Odolwa, resting on a large piece of
driftwood. Odolwa was only twenty-eight, and in top physical
condition, but his face was that of an old man. Ma’hora knew at once
that the month in which he was gone wasn’t the most pleasant of
times.
“What troubles you?” asked Ma’hora, concerned, as he
carefully sat down next to Odolwa, minding his back.
“The
list is too long to count,” said Odolwa, miserably. “We haven’t had
a drop of rain since months and months ago, and we need it for our
sowing season. Several tribesman have taken ill, and even your son
was not able to cure them. Several thieves came during one of the
nights- Ikana, probably- and stole most of our livestock. Oh, and to
top it off, the Ikana- they haven’t accepted our offering this
year.”
Ikana was a great and cruel empire to the east. They
worshiped pagan gods, and were capable of producing strong weapons
that made the Arbolim’s- Ma’hora’s tribe- look like a joke. Years
ago, the Ikana and Arbolim had fought, resulting in a great defeat
of the Arbolim people. They now had to pay an offering of crops to
the Ikana people in exchange for their freedom. “They wouldn’t
accept it?” wondered Ma’hora. “But why?”
“Something about it
being too small.” Odolwa made a fist. “We weren’t able to give
anything else! If we had sent more before the winter, we wouldn’t
have enough to survive. I sent your son to smooth over the
deal.”
“You sent Majora?” Ma’hora asked, concerned. “How did
it go?”
“He returned this morning, but I couldn’t get much
information from him. He seemed... distant. However, from the sound
of it, he reached some sort of an agreement with the Ikana. We
shouldn’t have to worry about last year’s offering
anymore.”
Ma’hora slowly got up. “I need to speak with him.”
He slowly walked up the beach towards the village.
“But
wait!” cried Odolwa. “What about the other problems? The drought?
The disease?”
Ma’hora paused, then laughed his old, hearty
laugh. “All things in good time, Odolwa. We’ll have a ritual tonight
for rain. I’ll aid the sick in the morning. But now, I have work to
do.”
–
The large hut seemed empty at first glance, but
Ma’hora could tell by Majora’s neglect to clean up after himself
that he had been home all day. Majora’s satchel was to the right of
the door, where he had probably thrown it upon
return.
“Majora?” called Ma’hora into the dark hut. “Are you
here?” There were many rooms in the extravagant dwelling; simply
because Ma’hora didn’t see his son didn’t mean that he wasn’t
there.
There seemed to be no answer at first, but as Ma’hora
turned to exit, he herd Majora’s voice. “I’m here,” called Majora’s
voice, distantly. Ma’hora made his way through the mess of the entry
room and came to his 17-year-old son’s room. Majora was leaning out
the window, watching the people of his village. It might have been
Ma’hora’s imagination, but he could almost see a look of discontent
on his son’s face.
“Odolwa tells me that you went to Ikana
about the offering,” said Ma’hora.
“Yes,” replied Majora,
without turning around.
The old shaman paused. “Will they
attack?” he asked.
Majora shook his head.
“No.”
Ma’hora frowned. Something was wrong. “Are you alright,
Majora?” he asked, concerned.
Majora simply
shrugged.
Ma’hora turned to leave. As he walked through the
doorway, he heard Majora’s voice. “It won’t work,” he
said.
Ma’hora faced his son and tilted his head to the side.
“What won’t work?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“The
ritual tonight. The rain summoning. It won’t work.”
“Who told
you that we were having a ritual tonight?” asked Ma’hora, frowning.
“And what makes you think that the Forest will not
answer?”
Majora turned and faced his father. “I know you will
do something about the rain as soon as possible because I know
you,” he answered, “and I know about the ritual because you
taught me everything there is to know about being a
shaman.”
“Not everything,” said Ma’hora,
sharply.
“Enough,” replied Majora. “And I know that it won’t
work because... because the ritual has no power.”
In two
steps, Ma’hora crossed the room and slapped Majora across his face.
“Wherever did you hear lies like those?” he asked, practially
spitting with fury. But deep down, he knew.
“In Ikana,”
Majora replied simply. He looked out the window. “In Ikana, there’s
an irrigation system that brings water from the deep canyon into a
stream that flows through the city. In Ikana, nobody goes hungry,
nobody needs to pay a tax to a greater country. They have great
entities of magic- ‘machines’- that do incredible things for people,
such as lift huge boulders high in the air or stop the very water
from the river from flowing.”
“The people of Ikana also
worship a great bloody god who has a necklace of human skulls. Would
you have us worship that?” replied Ma’hora
bitterly.
“If necessary!” shouted Majora, hotly. “What are
gods, anyway, except tools that leaders use to control the people?
What does it matter if they worship silly trees or an all-powerful
god?”
Ma’hora gritted his teeth. This was too different- too
unlike Majora. His eyes caught something. “What’s that?” he asked,
looking at a pendant around Majora’s neck. “What’s that around your
neck?” Majora’s hand went up to conceal it, but not before his
father had realized the shape. It was a heart, painted black, with
ten spearheads protruding from it.
The Ikana symbol for human
sacrifice.
Ma’hora was quiet. He spoke in a whisper. “You’re
one of them...”
Majora looked down at his pendant and
laughed. “One of ‘them’? You make it seem so dangerous! Yes, I
partook in their ritual, in order to save our village. Would you
have done anything else? The Emperor took an especial liking to me.
If we want, with a snap of my fingers, we can become the newest
addition to the Ikana Empire.” Majora’s black eyes were gleaming
with excitement.
Ma’hora could barely comprehend what he was
hearing. “You went to Ikana, you drank the blood of another man, you
wish for our village to become a part of what you pledged your life
to, and you expect me to consent with that?”
Majora spread
his arms wide. “The end justifies the means, father! Why, in a
single year, we could have enough food to feed ten times the number
of people here! I’m sure that in time, your personal moral qualms
will diminish.”
Ma’hora simply shook his head.
“Never.”
Majora’s smile faded.
Ma’hora pointed towards
the forest. “Get out. You are exiled. Go to Ikana, go to Hell, it
makes no difference to me. I never want to see you
again.”
Ma’hora’s word was final. Majora gathered up his
things and left the village in an hour. That was the last time that
Ma’hora saw his son face-to-face.
Later that day, before
Ma’hora told anyone of his son’s exile, Odolwa spoke to the shaman
about his son. “I saw Majora entering the forest this afternoon. I
hope he doesn’t get hurt. I worry about him.”
Ma’hora looked
distantly into the forest. “I don’t worry about Majora,” he told his
friend. “I worry about us.”
IP: Logged |
|
Bugenhagen |
Posted: 03-11-2003 , 10:34
PM |
|
Hello, Mr. Forest Fairy!
 Registered: Feb 2003 Location: Right behind you.
|
Pre-Survivor X Part One, Section
Two
Creation
“Get out. You are
exiled. Go to Ikana, go to Hell, it makes no difference to
me.”
”It makes no difference to
me.”
”Get out.”
Majora shed no tears as he
left his village, but he started crying as he tore through the
trees. He didn’t know why his father rejected his idea so strongly.
It certainly didn’t sound so wrong when the Emperor told him weeks
ago.
A small part of his mind told him that he did
think that it was wrong, before the ritual. Majora ignored the
voice.
Being born and raised in a forested area, Majora knew
the woods well. He deftly jumped over fallen trees and wove between
trunks, making his way quickly through the overgrowth. He didn’t
have a destination in mind; he simply went where his feet took
him.
“And what’s wrong with a sacrifice now and again if it
contributes to the peace of the village?” muttered Majora to
himself. “If I were shaman, I would create a sacrifice, and I would
summon rain ten times as heavy as anything father could call.
The shores would be flooded by my simple command. If only I could
make a sacrifice.”
Without noticing, Majora had entered a
clearing. He came out of his thoughts and looked around. Here,
standing in a perfect cross, stood five tall redwood trees,
stretching hundreds of miles into the sky. The sheer height of these
wooden goliaths was mind-boggling.
”Sanctuary,”
whispered Majora.
It was a holy place of the Arbolim- a place
where the prayers of the people came down from the heavens to be
answered. Majora had never been here before, but his father had told
him stories enough for him to know where he was. This was where his
people gathered in the last battle between them and the Ikana, the
only place where they feared to go. This was where each new shaman
came to state his case to the forest and become the prophet for his
people. These five trees held more magic in their sap than any Ikana
god could hope to obtain.
But the trees were an Arbolim
religion, Majora reminded himself. Not an Ikana. To be Ikana, the
end had to justify the means. There had to be a
sacrifice.
And it was then that Majora had an idea.
He
strode carefully, as if trying not to disturb anything. He eyed up
each tree, trying to make a decision. He settled on the middle tree
and set his satchel on the ground. The Arbolim people often carried
hand axes with them, to cut the overgrowth and encourage new trees
to grow. With the determination of the people he had left, he began
cutting away at the tree.
What better to sacrifice than the
hopes and dreams of those who abandoned you?
–
Odolwa
sought out Ma’hora at dusk. “Ma’hora, storm clouds cover the skies.
Have you begun the ritual yet? And why haven’t you invited
us?”
Ma’hora looked skywards at the dark clouds billowing in
the red sky. “This is not my doing,” he pronounced slowly. “Neither
is it nature. It is Majora.”
Odolwa had been told earlier of
Majora’s exile. “But rain is rain, is it not?” he asked Ma’hora.
“Why should we fear it when the rain would help?”
Ma’hora
shook his head. “It’s an Ikana saying- ‘the end justifies the
means’. I fear that in order to try and become my superior, he has
resorted to something horrible...”
Odolwa didn’t quite grasp
what Ma’hora was saying. “What are we to do, then?”
“Gather
ten of your strongest warriors,” said Ma’hora. “We go to Sanctuary
tonight.”
–
A tree as large as this one wouldn’t fall
easily, and Majora realized that quickly enough. Even if he had a
week out here, with only his tomahawk, he wouldn’t be able to make
much of a dent in the tree. It was as large around as his hut at
home, and Majora had only made a cut about an inch deep. The
teenager wiped his brow and sat down.
All of Sanctuary seemed
to be in chaos. The winds blew strong, whipping the grasses wildly.
Small animals quivered in the smaller trees, as if unable to sit
still from fear. Majora dug into his satchel and pulled out a
wicked, jagged knife- a sacrificial knife given to him by the
emperor. Majora ran his finger across the blade. It was sharp. Out
of frustration, he slammed it into the side of the tree.
A
deep groan came out of the wood. Sap, red like blood, oozed from the
wound.
Majora paused. He pulled the knife from the wood,
which was covered in the sticky, bitter sap. Standing up, he carved
into the wood with the cruel blade. He carved a great heart- the
heart of the tree, he imagined- and carved ten spearheads protruding
from it. The Ikana symbol of human sacrifice. The tree moaned at the
touch of the knife, and when Majora finished his drawing, the tree
shuddered.
A thin line, appearing where Majora had cut with
the hand-axe, spread across the diameter of the trunk. Then slowly,
the tree began to fall. Majora watched in wonder as the hundred-foot
giant simply fell. It landed with a great crash, destroying
the trees in its path.
One of the Five Giants was
dead.
Majora leapt onto the tree trunk, walking across to the
leaves at the ‘top’. A single fruit, golden-colored, lay, begging to
be picked. Majora plucked it from the branches and walked back to
the stump, where he proceeded to eat. He tossed the pit onto the
ground near the trunk and turned to his carving, now facing towards
the sky.
At the touch of his hand, the bark fell off of the
wood where the knife had cut. A yellow eye glared up at
him.
Majora jumped back, then approached cautiously. He felt
drawn to it. He peeled the bark away to reveal what had been created
inside. Lying under his carving, glowing slightly in the dusk, was a
mask. It was in the shape of the Ikana symbol, but had two glowing
eyes at the end. It was painted in red and blue, except for where
the eyes, which were a haunting yellow.
“I made this?” Majora
asked himself. He lifted the mask into his hands.
“I made
this.”
–
As soon as the rains began, Ma’hora clutched
his chest and kneeled down, wincing in pain. Odolwa, who walked
close to his shaman, noticed at once. “Stop! Everyone!” Odolwa
kneeled down next to Ma’hora and looked into his face. “Are you
alright?”
Ma’hora slowly shook his head. “No... he has...
killed me,” he pronounced slowly. His breaths came in short
gasps.
“Who has killed you?” asked Odolwa, sweating. “Did I
do something? Was it Majora?”
Ma’hora tried to answer, but
his throat was caught. He just nodded, jerkily.
“But how?”
asked Odolwa. “How could he have...?”
Ma’hora swallowed, and
his voice came back to him, hoarsely. “He has made himself... a god.
Please... my friend. Kill him. Before he kills us
all.”
Odolwa shook his head. “I can’t do that. He’s your
son.”
“No,” replied Ma’hora, as his eyes relaxed, drifting up
to the heavens. Rain splattered on them, but he didn’t blink. He
didn’t have the will to blink. “Not anymore. Now, you... are my
son.”
And there, lying in the mud, the old man breathed his
last. Odolwa and his men said a quick prayer, and two carried his
body back to the village. The rest had unfinished business to take
care of.
They encountered Majora in the clearing. He was
standing on the stump where the fifth great tree once stood. His
back was to the men, and he seemed to be simply... staring. Staring
at nothing, Odolwa pulled back his bowstring, ready to fire, now
that he had a chance.
“Is the old man dead?” Majora asked,
quietly.
Odolwa paused. He let the string go slack.
“I
asked you a question. Is my father dead?”
Odolwa nodded,
slowly. “... Yes.”
“Good,” declared Majora. He slowly turned
to meet the eight gathered. Upon his head, he wore a mask with
great, glowing eyes which seemed to pierce the souls of the men
there. Terror was in the hearts of the men.
“I am the shaman
now,” he said slowly. “Shaman... Chieftain... God.” He smiled to
himself, though none could see it under his mask. Thoughts of
defeating Majora fled Odolwa’s head.
The Mask had commanded.
He would obey.
--
Heh. Here I'm preaching
about long post length, and I end up making a 8-page post for a
single part of my intro. Expect two or three more parts to come,
unless my wrists fall off.
Last
edited by Bugenhagen on 03-11-2003 at 10:36 PM
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S-Chicken
Boner |
Posted: 03-12-2003 , 02:41
AM |
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Martian Successor
 Registered: Feb 2003 Location:
|
In
the beginning...
Twas a dark and stormy night.
Two seagulls were flying in front of a large, wooden,
sailboat speeding towards the dock of a port city. Those birds
spread out their wings and let the night's harsh winds carry them
away to the back of the boat. Once there, they started firing their
high-velocity powered droppings upon it.
As the bolts of
avian guano bounced off of the deck of the vessel, with more
inaccurate shots hitting the sea, lightning had struck from afar.
The light it created revealed a figure on the ship, a red-haired,
green-eyed man clad in armor along his shoulders, chest, shins, and
feet over red cloth, with a sword in one hand and a shield in the
other. But most importantly of all, he had a secret and extremely
deadly technique: 1337 ramming skillz!
STARRING ADOL
CHRISTIAN AS ADOL CHRISTIAN
The boat, still
enduring the fire from the seagulls, smashed it's way through the
wooden ports and landed on the wharf, where a pair of skeletons were
randomly wandering.
A rope was flung from the boat to the
wharf, which Adol climbed down.
Once down, Adol tracked down
the wandering skeletons and rammed them. The ***zage was too much
for them as bones flew everywhere.
However, the birds had not
forgotten who they were out to kill and once again rained their
lethal birdshit down upon Adol. Thankfully, as Adol is the hero of
this story, any living thing trying to shoot him will have terrible
aim. As the birds got within a foot of the warrior's head, they
veered off, crossing each other's flight paths, wanting to get far
enough to mount another strafing run.
Suddenly, a small
object leapt from the landed boat, having the shape of a human head
on a small stick. While in midair, its eyes fired two laser beams,
cooking the bird they had targeted.
Lightning had struck
again, revealing the old, worn, balding face of the man's
head.
AND THE LATE SIR ALEC GUINESS' HEAD ON A
STICK AS THE LATE SIR ALEC GUINESS' HEAD ON A
STICK
In freefall, Alec Guiness turned and fried the
second bird, before landing on the ground, exclaiming
"Deznwp!"
Suddenly, rising from their places in the
crate-filled dock came an army of thousands of gangstas, armed with
the finest rifles, machine guns, and bazookas known to man, which
they had turned on Adol and Alec. "Etanutrofnu si siht," said the
latter.
And such began an epic battle between the duo and the
gangstas. Countless numbers were rammed, fried, and completely
***zed in the fighting.
When the army was about half dead, a
figure of an old man in a business suit fell from the sky. The fire
in his eyes was burning red, telling him to grasp
victory.
GUEST-STARRING FORMER REPUBLICAN SENATOR
ROBERT DOLE
"Bob Dole is gonna stomp a mudhole in your
ass!" the ex-senator yelled as he pulled a small bottle of viagra
from his pocket, and chugged the pills down his throat. Afterwards,
a great aura surrounded his body, and he was ready for action.
Lasers fired from Dole's eyes, destroying various crates,
narrowly missing Adol, while Alec returned fire with his own.
After dodging a few beams, Adol moved in shield first, which
was fortunate for it was about to absorb a laser blast, pushing the
swordsman backwards.
Adol moved in again, this time having
his shield endure Bob Dole's fire breath. But when the politician
ran out of breath, defeat came upon him.
"Aaaah! The
***zage!" Bob Dole screamed, as Adol laid down upon him just
that.
"Yo dog. He ***zed Bob Dole!" one gangsta anxiously
whispered to another.
"We gonna fuck him up somehow," another
replied.
And so the battle continued, despite more heavy
firepower, the gangstas fell to Adol and Alec's skillz.
After the skirmish was over and they advanced, they came
upon a gigantic purple and green robot with yellow
eyes.
AND EVANGELION UNIT-01
The Eva dropped
the proportionately large machine gun in it had in its hands, which
landed with a giant "CLANK!" And then proceeded to use it's now-free
hands to grip it's head as if it were in pain.
Adol took
advantage of the situation and rammed the mech in the toe section of
its right foot, sending it flying through the air and then dropping
with a humungous explosion following.
Adol walked forward as
Alec did the same, hopping on his stick, unaware of the journey that
awaited them.
ADOL CHRISTIAN: THE ***ZAGE! STORY BY:
BONER THE SUPER CHICKEN SPECIAL THANKS TO:
CARLY
"So that's how
you fooled them!" - Aeris Gainsborough, Final Fantasy VII
Last
edited by S-Chicken Boner on 03-12-2003 at 02:44 AM
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CarlyCheeese |
Posted: 03-12-2003 , 09:37
AM |
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Scarlet Rain Silence
 Registered: Feb 2003 Location: Feudal Japan
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Cru.
Pure and utter genius.
XD
IP: Logged |
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S-Chicken
Boner |
Posted: 03-12-2003 , 10:30
AM |
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Martian Successor
 Registered: Feb 2003 Location:
|
Anything to do with how I described Mr. Dole's
eyes? ;)
(*bows*)
Thank you, Carly. As always, I aim to
please.
"So that's how
you fooled them!" - Aeris Gainsborough, Final Fantasy VII
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Switchblade |
Posted: 03-12-2003 , 11:11
AM |
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Road Warrior
 Registered: Feb 2003 Location: In your fridge,
behind the mayo
|
Crusader, man, lay off the crack. Seriously. We're
worried about you.
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Soujiro
Seta |
Posted: 03-12-2003 , 11:42
AM |
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The Silver Ogre
 Registered: Feb 2003 Location: Beyond Death
|
It's
stories like that, Crusader, that make me want to choose humorous
characters to sponsor. Of course, if I ever did, you'd all find out
how bad my humor is...
And I can't, in good conscience,
not like a story that involves both Viagra-powered Bob Dole
and a mention of Alec Guiness. 
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Mith
Galtirglin |
Posted: 03-12-2003 , 03:22
PM |
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Follow the snowflies...
 Registered: Feb 2003 Location:
|
And
here is the first of what I'll assume to be four sections, yet
again. They don't stop talking...
This one's for you,
Darkken. Thank you for saving my vacation and my status in the
fandom.
------
· * ·
Survivor X;
Manifest Destiny
Father Grissom
Laertatisson Vagrant Story
I asked of my
brother that I be permitted to follow him, and he denied me
this. I asked of my brother that he stay, and he denied me
this. I asked of my brother that I may see through his eyes, and
look upon his workings. And my brother allowed me the sight of
the Forest, and those who walked in it, for that was where his
errands then lay.
(1 Joshua
7.2-5)
Prologue Section
A
X
With his hands free of the staff, he pressed
his palms together and closed his eyes for a moment, breathing and
remembering. He only opened his eyes as the position of his hands
changed, separating the palms and pressing only the tips of his
index and central fingers together. He raised that form to just
above his eyes, so that his vision was blocked by his supportive
fists. After this, the tracing began; his fingers separated to form
the sides of a small triangle in the air before his eyes, and then
together again in a straight line down to his waist. There they
parted again briefly to draw both sides of a horizontal line, and
came together again. He lifted his hands back to heart-level, and
traced the last; two upward, short diagonal lines, then together;
two downward, short diagonal lines, together. That done, he sank to
his knees. His hand clasped around the staff where he had thrown it
down in his shock.
"Duane..." cold metal sword staff
anchor weapon slew him was a blade sword curved Fandango dance sword
dancer Müllenkamp Müllenkamp Müllenkamp "...Who...who did it?"
your choice followed he only follows cleric soldier cleric mage
cleric cleric Prophet Müllenkamp Müllenkamp
Losstarot
Faendos, startled, stepped back and barely
managed the words. "P-Parliament's man. Riot. Knight of the
Peace."
knight peace parliament peace war death
Duane
After being elbowed in the side by his companion,
Faendos corrected himself. "R-Riskbreaker, Father Grissom. Their
Riskbreaker. The one that f-followed us in."
followed
Riskbreaker dog dog Guildenstern said dog death died a dog's death
Duane Riot Riskbreaker dog cultist Müllenkamp Losstarot Riot death
death His chapped, nicked knuckles whitened on the staff's hilt.
The ornate head of the staff scraped across the ground, and Grissom
growled. "Riskbreaker. Dog. May he burn." The staff scraped again.
burn fire magic fire Guildenstern Dark Müllenkamp "How many
others were there?" He tried to stop his chest from
heaving.
"Here, Father?" Lamkin, the second, asked, confused.
"The two that were with him. Sarjik, Bejart. They also fell. There
may have been others before, and after..." He tapped Faendos again
with his elbow, and the other Blade stepped forward, toward their
commander.
"The Risbreaker left these behind," he said,
holding out Sarjik's sharded rapier and the broken pole of what had
once been a halberd--presumably Bejart's.
Grissom could only
see the bottom of the pole, and followed it up to Faendos' hands
with angry eyes, his back unarching as he sat back on his heels.
sword broken sword broken staff guisarme staff staff Duane
staff "Where is it?" he growled again, his tenor still trapped
in the lower registers. The street dug into the palm of one of his
hands. staff Magnolia Frau staff Duane's staff Riot dog
Riot
"Where is what, Father?"
Riot dog staff
Duane Magnolia "Duane's weapon. His staff." His voice was on its
way back to its intended range. Sweat dripped from his hairline into
his eyes--the sun burned in Leá Monde. burn Riot burn magic fire
Dark
Faendos edged backward along the pavement, his
hagane greaves scraping, masking the sound of Grissom's gritting
teeth. "He...h-he left nothing."
Grissom's pale eyes froze.
"...Nothing?" His timbre began to lower again. "Nothing?"
nothing staff nothing robes nothing Duane gone Dark taken Riot
taken dog Riot taken Riot Dark Müllenkamp
"Nothing,
Father," Lamkin said, with a fair degree of courage, though his
voice was softened courteously. "The Riskbreaker was after the
key."
Duane robes taken Riot staff Magnolia Frau staff
Duane key city lost surface lost Riskbreacker dog dog Riot taken
staff taken Duane Riot may he burn dog burn in the fires of Hell
magic fire Dark fire Dark Losstarot Riot Losstarot Müllenkamp
Müllenkamp Dark city lost city we have lost the surface Duane taken
he has taken the city the key the surface Riot Losstarot the Dark
will follow taken the Dark he will take the Dark Riot dog Riot
Riskbreaker dog Riot Duane Duane brother taken "He owns the
surface, do you realize?" His breath hissed, his joints creaked, and
he rose with the staff in hand, knuckles still white. "That dog owns
the surface and you bring me useless, broken weapons?" His arm had
lashed out, Shilleagh in hand, before he could stop himself.
brother staff taken brother taken
There was a clank
that may have passed for a slap, and a clatter that may have done
the same. Faendos reared with a cry, clutching his ringing gauntlet
to his chest, greaves scraping across the pavement. The broken sword
and staff rolled a short distance away.
Grissom's knuckles
were still white against the hilt of Shilleagh, even as he pulled it
back toward himself. taken brother ringing metal staff silver
Shilleagh Magnolia Shilleagh warm grip hand ringing Faendos hand
ringing He breathed, and remembered. "...Faendos. Forgive me."
hand ringing staff brother Duane brother in arms Faendos Lamkin
brother in arms Guildenstern
"S-sir," Faendos managed.
"F-father." He shook his hand out. It was his shield-hand, Grissom
realized, and was glad of that.
sword need weapon need
Riot weapon "He has taken the surface and the key." The
Shilleagh slid down his hand until he was nearly cupping its ornate
head, knuckles loosened about the silver-veined staff. "He has
taken..." surface key brother "...does the Commander
know?"
Lamkin nodded. Faendos' head was already lowered. The
plumes of their helmets wavered in the city's currents; Dark or
wind, Grissom could not be sure.
Dark wind Dark city taken
Duane taken Bejart Sarjik Morganson Meyres Padraic Lucas Luricant
taken gone left nothing nothing "And he has left no body, I
assume?" nothing Dark nothing Dark Duane Guildenstern
Müllenkamp
"Nothing," Lamkin said. "While the others at
least left some armor..." He knew not how to finish the
sentence.
nothing left dead grave staff robber staff grave
robber Riot He took the time to breathe, but would not hang his
head. "What are our orders from Guildenstern?"
"Same as they
h-have been; 'Crush Müllenkamp', he sa--"
Lamkin interrupted.
"He sent several of us after the Riskbreaker earlier. When none
returned, he bade us hold the surface and wait for the hound to
sniff us out."
The priest's eyebrows lowered with the corners
of his lips. "Hold the surface? Walk amidst the filth that
hound has used to mark his territory?" dog dog Risbreaker "I
think not."
The Blades held their stance and marked their
Commander. Grissom stood with his shoulders steadied against the
Dark breeze, raising Shilleagh to its customary place in his belt.
The Rose-Rood on the chest of his vestments was unshadowed, for the
sun sat above the buildings behind Grissom. The priest cast a shade
on his men and the street before him, lengthened and widened by the
afternoon's light.
"He has taken the Crimson key," Grissom
said in his proper voice, less hindered or masked by rage, "and if
my perception of his purpose is correct, he will not stop with the
Undercity. Parliament is our enemy in this, as much as if not more
than those cultist dogs. Others have succeeded in making the cult
howl for mercy; if not for that Riskbreaker the city would be wholly
ours." Duane
The winds increased, though briefly.
"Father? D-do you suggest we follow him?"
Duane brother
taken Riot taken staff "Follow as a means to slay, Faendos. I
must avenge my brother, and you your brethren-in-arms." He walked,
parting the knights that served him, in the direction of
Guildenstern's post. "Are you coming?"
The both responded
with his title, and fell into step behind him. Men of God are not
easily disobeyed.
· | ·
Sydney danced, though briefly,
and though he could not be seen. Invisible and inaudible, his metal
talons scraped over the cobblestones of the Undercity, drawing the
eyes of the corpses who had them and could smell his blood. His arms
wavered gracefully and potently, deliberate gestures accompanied by
nonexistent drums. The dead (though they were already "awake", in
the since-corrupted sense of the word) woke to him, as if a shining
Lord had entered their peasantry and demanded their politeness
without a word. The smell of blood inspired courage, hunger; the
paternal Dark that enveloped the dancer comforted and assured.
"There is food coming, though it is not I," he seemed to say. "Your
Lord I serve, and you I cater to."
The dance was prompted by
necessity and not pleasure, and so he did not smile in his
movements. The young man's expression was solemn as his fair hair
caught between his lips during a turn. Eyes closed, his feet still
carried him toward a door; one of four at this crossroads, none of
which he had entered by. Through that door he passed, without
opening it.
The Rood-bearer continued to dance, taking the
stairs that he encountered by increments of two and three. The
Undercity was secure, and its dead were awake; enough so to test
Riot, enough so to put Grissom in his place.
A hound I
lend unto my Lady for her judgement, and a judge I lead unto my Lady
for her hounding, he thought as the light of the Town Centre
began to light his steps. He faded into visibility, though none were
there to witness. Now, where might I find the Judge
Superior?
The strands of hair that had caught between his
lips during the dance fell into place as he began to walk. A shadow
of a smirk replaced the solemn expression he had performed his rites
with.
The rabbit has left his warren, Riskbreaker, Priest,
and has left a ripe trail. Which of you will happen upon me
first?
+
Et
exultavit spiritus meus In Deo salutari meo
Sponsoring
Father Grissom in Survivor X. Amen.
IP: Logged |
|
ShinkuuR |
Posted: 03-12-2003 , 03:26
PM |
|
New College Grad! Whoo!
 Registered: May 2001 Location: Savannah Ga
|
Rydia's Intro: Part 1 of 3
”I hate this
job.”
The doctor took one last look at the dead body that
laid on the operation table, and more importantly at the numerous
bites and scratches that covered the man. He knew that no animal
that lived could have possibly done those things, and he knew for a
FACT that what did it wasn’t natural, but he was so used to these
cases that it started not to bother him anymore...and that scared
him more than anything.
“Alright guys. Wrap him
up.”
The two assistants proceeded to seal up the body and
prepare it for cremation, while the doctor walked out the door to
give the report to the scientist that stood waiting for
him.
“Well?”
“He didn’t make it. The bites ended up
puncturing his lungs, and the head was...”
“Whatever, doc.
Was he ‘clean’?” The doctor sighed quietly, inwardly cursing himself
for thinking that the people who worked here had the slightest hint
of compassion. People like this guy was the reason that he prayed
every night, hoping that he can still retain a soul when he
died...unlike this man. Even now the scientist’s hands were colored
with marks of blood.
“Yes. His blood showed no signs of viral
infection.” The scientist nodded his head in a monotone-like fashion
while scribbling some notes down.
“Good. Can’t run the risk
of creating things we can’t control, can we?” The doctor responded
with a fake smile, which was his usual answer to the so called
‘humor’ of the scientists. “T-046B is ready for more extensive
tests. Time to get started.”
And with that the scientist
left, without so much as a shred of grief for the guard who died
being a victim of his ‘tests’. No prayer. No tears. Not even a
moment of silence. And the worse thing was that whatever family the
guard had wouldn’t even know that he died until a couple of months
later, and even then they would be told a ridiculous cover story
that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Just another day at
the G Corporation.
The doctor wished that he could be
anywhere else but here. Graduating at the top of his class with a
double major in medicine and biophysics, he thought that there would
be job offers everywhere. Of course the economy saw things
different, and with a wife and child to support, he had no choice
but to take the job at G Corp. Even in college he knew that the
company dealt in shady dealings, but the pay and his desperateness
was enough to change his mind. And while he was able to experiment
with radical advances in medicine, that did nothing to overshadow
the insane and inhuman creatures and viruses that the scientists
played with like a child’s toy. He knew that he was playing a part
in the destruction of the world, and he cursed himself for
it. ”I really hate this job” he thought, making his way
into the lab and down the stairs to the cryosleep chamber where his
next patient was waiting. With a couple of pushes of the control
panel the door opened with a loud hissing sound, and after a couple
of seconds the patient opened his eyes. The man climbed out of the
chamber, and after looking over his body and stretching, he walked
toward a small mirror in the corner and checked out his
eyes.
“Any differentiation from the left one?”
“Not
really. It seems to be slightly blurry though.” The man said,
leaving the mirror to put on his clothes.
“That’s expected.
The eye was made using the Hunters as a blueprint, so the vision
will seem more...feral then you are used to. Your sight will be
enhanced, but the edges will stay blurry for some
time.”
“Hmm. What about the developments on the
O-Virus?”
“R & D wanted you to be there in person to see
their findings and give the go ahead, sir.”
“Do they now?”
The man, now fully clothed and comfortable walking around after
three weeks of healing himself in the chamber, smiled as he pulled a
pair of shades from his pocket and headed for the stairs. “Good job,
doc.”
“Thank you, Dr. Wesker.” The doctor responded as he
watched Albert Wesker walk up the stairs. Even though he did
appreciates the doctor’s work, it was something about Wesker that
the doctor didn’t trust, and a part of him wished he didn’t heal the
wounds or built him that eye.
”Yeah...just another
day...”
The Village of Mist was once a peaceful town,
isolated from the hustle of the large trading city of Damcyan and
the military presence of the Baron Kingdom. The people there were
peaceful people who protected their own, and even though they had
the ability to summon monsters with great power, they would rather
spend their days farming crops and teaching their children the art
of summoning than flaunting their skill. The villagers knew no fear,
no pain, no violence as they lived, taking every moment to reflect
in the joys that the world had to offer.
That all changed one
year ago.
A group of bombs suddenly converged upon the
Village of Mist, quickly incinerating every house, tree, and crop
that was stored there. The summoners were caught completely off
guard, and with out a decent defense themselves and their kids fell
easily to the destruction. Mist instantly changed from a beautiful,
peaceful town to a pathetic excuse for a wasteland in a matter of
seconds.
Today, the Village of Mist stands as beautiful and
as proud as it once was before, built back from nothing in just a
couple of months with the hard work and sweat from the people of
Baron. The people lost in the carnage could never be replaced,
however, and the smiles and laughter that was once shared on these
grounds will forever be lost to the world. Even if new people settle
into Mist and bring it life again, there was one woman who would
never forgive the screams of her friends being
slaughtered.
Rydia, summoner and the sole survivor of the
attack of Mist, looked outside her window to make sure that every
minute detail was just as she remembered it. The town had been
rebuilt as a complete replica of Rydia’s memories, from the houses
that once proudly stood tall to the tiny scratches on the trees that
children as a record of their height. Right now she was inside her
room in her house, trying to recall her memories of her life before
the terror and the sadness, the memories that she had when she was a
child...
She remembered playing with her friends out in the
fields on warm summer days. She remembered the joy that was in her
mother’s eyes when she completed her first cure spell. She
remembered the ceremony where she was given the title of summoner on
her 13th birthday. She remembered the essence of the Mist Dragon
disappearing from this world.
She remembered her mother dying
at her feet.
Her mother was everything to her. She gave
infinite amounts of support whenever Rydia had trouble with spells.
She protected Rydia whenever monsters would stumble out of the cave
and threaten the village. She always hugged Rydia and gave her all
the love she had. Then one day it all ended because of one person’s
ambition to conquer and control, and Rydia’s life of peace and
contentment took a different path.
Vengeance.
Driven
by revenge and separated from those who wanted the fiend destroyed
by an accident, Rydia ended up below the earth and in the world of
Summoned Monsters. The monsters, who were partners with the people
of Mist and quite friendly, took care of her and taught all about
magic and summoning. With the goal of vengeance clear in her mind
she trained endlessly, and as 10 days passed in the world above and
10 years passed below, she forged herself into a mighty summoner.
With her training complete she returned to the real world, and after
fighting countless battles and suffering many hardships, her goal
was realized and the demon known as Zeromus was finally defeated.
Rydia thought that with him gone, the world would return to a land
of peace and she could get on with her life.
She was
wrong.
After the battle the economy of the world was in
shambles, many people were homeless and had to spend most of their
time rebuilding, and there was a lot of resentment for the Kingdom
of Baron, whose military power was to blame for a small part of the
terror that happened. All that, plus the sightings of monsters who
survived the war, caused a lot of civil unrest in the world. Even
though Cecil and Rosa, the king and queen of Baron and heroes who
Rydia helped in the destruction of Zeromus, were harboring the
homeless in their castle and doing their best to help the
neighboring kingdoms, the load still seems like it was too much to
bear. A civil war was brewing, and Rydia couldn’t stand it.
The fighting, the pain, the suffering...she wasn’t sure when
it will all end, but she wished it will all of her being. Rydia was
just tired of seeing childhood memories being replaced by the ever
presence of bloodshed and tears. She was sick of being strong and
courageous, and longed to be able to just be herself. A carefree
girl who was full of smiles...maybe with him she could
be...
“Rydia? Are you okay?” She turned around from the
window to see Cecil standing in the doorway.
“Yes, I’m fine.
Thank you for all of your help.”
“Thanks aren’t necessary.
This is partly my fault anyway.” Cecil said, remembering that it was
him and Kain who were duped into delivering the bombs to Mist in the
first place. “Will you be there tonight?”
“...Yes. I want to
spend some time here first.”
“Understood. I’ll see you then.”
Rydia turned back to the window as she heard the sound of the door
close behind her.
”Maybe one day,
Ryo...”
Continued...
SRK Battle
Poll II:10th place - Edge SRK Battle Poll II: 5th place -
Link
One of the reasons why the '24' threads are too
good...
quote:
Originally posted by Azrael-sama
Not to mention
the Triple P's New Ho is going to get herself into all sorts of
shit. We didn't need to see Spinless Weasel Guy stuffing a gun
into his bag to know that's a trap. You have to hand it to Shin
Sherri, not only would she have recognized this blatantly obvious
set-up, she would have RC'ed it into about 7 different traps of
her own. By the time she was done with that guy, he'd be on
welfare and PREGNANT with HER kids.
IP: Logged |
|
ShinkuuR |
Posted: 03-12-2003 , 03:34
PM |
|
New College Grad! Whoo!
 Registered: May 2001 Location: Savannah Ga
|
With a
couple button pushes, the two heavy glass panel doors slid aside to
reveal several scientists poking and prodding with creatures that
can only be described as ‘unnatural’. With all the screams, roars,
and gruesome sights that surrounded the area, to any normal person
this would be considered hell on earth.
To Albert Wesker,
this was home sweet home, and as he stepped through the door, the
scientist that weren’t doing anything life threatening(which were
very few) approached him and clapped in celebration of his
arrival.
“I’ve been told...” Wesker started as he sat down.
“...That you guys made some progress.”
“Yes sir!” one of the
scientist said, clearly excited from Wesker’s arrival. “Those
strands of hair you brought us are amazing! We could basically give
our creations any attributes we wanted without any side
effects...”
“...if we had a catalyst.” One of the older
scientists interrupted. “The truth is that the T and G virus are too
weak to stabilize the effects of the O-Virus we created from the
hair. The only thing that would work is the T-Veronica, and we have
too little of that on hand to use.”
Wesker smiled as he
walked up to one of the cells used for storing ‘test data’ and
pushed a couple of buttons. As soon as the door opened the body of
an 19 year old boy slumped out. He was unconscious and badly
wounded, but still alive.
“I beg to
differ.”
If you guys don't know anything about the
Resident Evil Series, then let me know so you won't be
confused.
SRK Battle
Poll II:10th place - Edge SRK Battle Poll II: 5th place -
Link
One of the reasons why the '24' threads are too
good...
quote:
Originally posted by Azrael-sama
Not to mention
the Triple P's New Ho is going to get herself into all sorts of
shit. We didn't need to see Spinless Weasel Guy stuffing a gun
into his bag to know that's a trap. You have to hand it to Shin
Sherri, not only would she have recognized this blatantly obvious
set-up, she would have RC'ed it into about 7 different traps of
her own. By the time she was done with that guy, he'd be on
welfare and PREGNANT with HER kids.
IP: Logged |
|
S-Chicken
Boner |
Posted: 03-12-2003 , 03:56
PM |
|
Martian Successor
 Registered: Feb 2003 Location:
|
Switch, Tenk- I appreciated the good word. Again, as
always, I aim to please. (*bows*)
"So that's how
you fooled them!" - Aeris Gainsborough, Final Fantasy VII
IP: Logged |
|
Just Some
Guy |
Posted: 03-12-2003 , 10:08
PM |
|
Superhero Sellout
 Registered: Feb 2003 Location: a place where you are
not
|
Sorry
for the REALLY short part I, but due to time constraints, I have to
finish this at a later date.
--------
The Hero
That Never Was - Part I sponsored by
Coca-Cola
New York City. It was in the evening, the
'dusk' if you will. All seemed peaceful, calm, the starry night…
wasn't here yet. It's that annoying time between day and night
actually. Don't you just hate that? I mean, it's not day, but it's
not night either. WTF? It's ALMOST nighttime, but then, the days not
over yet. But, it is. But then, it's not night time, so the day
isn't over. But it's not daytime! What's wrong with this time
period!? GAH!
HARK! The silence that is New York City hath
been broken. A humble apartment, an obnoxious phone! A cell phone,
with the most evil, vile, unholy, disgusting, wrong, wicked,
demonic, dastardly, devilish, despicable, deranged, fiendish, cooky,
fun, nasty, immoral, detestable, snide, treacherous, deadly, 38|1,
sinister, malevolent ring tone of all time. In full-on MP3 audio.
The ring of the phone sounded out.
'Dirty Pop'
An
extremely manly voice echoed from the other room. 'OH MY GOD! It's,
dot dot dot, the PHONE!'
The source of this voice darts out
of the bathroom wearing only a red helmet and a towel around his
waist. The fact that no one was there didn't stop him from oiling up
his muscular body and looking dead sexy. He slowly, dramatically,
meticuloulsy picked up the phone, and, in an almost ritualistic
fashion, pushed the 'talk' button.
'Hello. Captain Falcon
speaking… what? NO! HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN!?!?!… Yes, I understand.
The Meow Mix endorsement fell through. Yes… Is there any way I can
get it back?'
Saddened by this loss of a perfectly good
endorsement deal with an extremely popular product, Falcon went to
his costume. A purple suit, made entirely of spandex, covered in
product logos. After five minutes of searching the once-purple
bodysuit, he finally found his Meow Mix patch amongst the other 500+
product endorsments, and sadly ripped it off the suit, throwing it
into a drawer.
'I can't let this happen. I'm… I'm… I'm…
the great Captain Falcon! The greatest hero there ever was! I must
right this wrong and get my product back.'
He donned his
spandex bodywear and went back into the dressing room. Taking off
his helmet, he quickly grabbed a bottle of Dep hair gel, and
took the better of ten minutes perfecting his hair. The then put his
helmet back on and darted out the door, searching for crime to stop
and, more importantly, endorsement deals to make.
IP: Logged |
|
ETP
|
Posted: 03-12-2003 , 11:51
PM |
|
humble canadian
 Registered: Nov 2002 Location: Stratford, Ontario,
Canada Favorite Character: GGXX Zappa Astrological Sign: Gemini
Area_of_Interest: Illustration & Porn Level of Canadianliness:
98%
|
Question: Do sidekicks create intros and post in the
character description thread aswell, or does it only apply to
sponsored characters?
IP: Logged |
|
S-Chicken
Boner |
Posted: 03-13-2003 , 01:02
AM |
|
Martian Successor
 Registered: Feb 2003 Location:
|
IIRC
sidekicks can post intros too, yes.
"So that's how
you fooled them!" - Aeris Gainsborough, Final Fantasy VII
IP: Logged |
|
San_Draco |
Posted: 03-13-2003 , 11:20
AM |
|
El Bruje Sale
 Registered: Feb 2003 Location: The realm between the
worlds...
|
ShinkuuR: *raises hand* I'm confuzzled, and have no idea
about anything related to Resident Evil. Explanation,
please?
"Your soul is
mine!" -Shang Tsung
It was fun, and I enjoyed myself. But,
it's time for me to go now.
IP: Logged |
|
Just Some
Guy |
Posted: 03-13-2003 , 06:29
PM |
|
Superhero Sellout
 Registered: Feb 2003 Location: a place where you are
not
|
The
Hero That Never Was - Part II Sponsored by Maxell
CD-RData
As Falcon darted throught he city with his 1337
speed in search of sponsors, I mean crime, he came across the
dastardly villain known only as 'The Dark One'. The worst of the
worst, the most evil of evils, the toughest of the tough, he was
what supervillains are all about.
Shouded in skin tight black
leather (cause we all know leather is the most evil clothing
material there is), red boots and gloves, and a black cape, coming
into a hood at the top, which, of course, was over The Dark One's
face, only his mouth was visible. A wicked smirk could easily be
seen as he dashed at the spandex-clad superhero.
Falcon,
being the hero, easily dodged and retailiated with his Falcon Punch.
He brought energy into his fist, reared back, and threw his all into
that punch, a flame came out of his fists and grew to unreasonable
proportions. It took the shape of a falcon in an uber-cool pose as
the Captain yelled out the phrase 'FALCON PUNCH!'
The
torrential wave of falcon-shaped flames engulfed The Dark One,
sending him squalling in pain. His ear-piercing cries of ouchies
filled the dimly lit streets of New York. With these horrid
screeches attracting attention, a few onlookers came to watch the
fight.
As The Dark One was recovering, Falcon struck a pose,
leapt into him, and delivered a heavy kick from his excessively
shiney gold boots, knocking his burning foe through a wall and into
an occupied girls' locker room. He was clearly unconcious now, so
Falcon decided to take the time to go off and make an
overpretentious speech to the onlookers.
Little did he know
that behind him, The Dark One's flaming cloak set off the sprinkler
system, successfully wetting all the underwear-clad girls in the
locker room as they decided to tend to his wounds. He woke up, but
after seeing this sight didn't bother with Falcon much. The Dark One
simply removed his cloak revealing his true identity. Bill Clinton
then proceeded to make sweet mokey-love to all the girls in the
locker room.
Still oblivious, Falcon continued speaking to
the onlookers (who, by the way, were more concerned with the
peep-show behind them). '...and that, my friends, is how to defeat
any force of evil and corruption. This speech was brought to you by
George Foreman Grills. Would anyone like an autograph?' He signed
some of their things, with and without permission, and then gave a
toothy superhero smile, his bright teeth blinding everyone in a
five-block radius. Being as there were no news reporters or major
corporations present, Falcon quickly exited the scene.
Going
off to find more deals, err... evil, he came across two people. One
was tall, dressed in dark colors, and seemed to have a deal to make
with the other. The second one was of average height, wearing a red
and blue number, spandex, with designs of spider webs all over it.
He had a red mask with the same pattern and the eyeholes were pure
white.
The first figure spoke, overheard by Falcon's
superhero level of hearing. 'You are this city's greatest hero. Your
skills are unequalled in this world, and your destiny awaits
you.'
Falcon was obviously offended by this comment.
'HIM!? The city's greatest hero? What are they
smoking?'
The Captain yelled in his manliest voice (which
is REALLY FRIGGIN MANLY), 'IN THE NAME OF DELL COMPUTERS, I SAY
NAY!' The most overpretentious, self-centered hero the worlds have
ever known dived upon the spiderish man, ***zing his ass with no
trouble at all. 'That was for Microsoft!' He turned to the
black-clad inviter. 'Now, what was it you were saying about him
being the greatest hero in this city?'
'WHAT!? You knocked
him out from behind! Not even his spider like senses could pick that
up! But, it doesn't matter who I invite, so long as I get someone.
So, now it's your destiny that awaits YOU.'
'I decline this
offer. I have no reason to go with you.'
'It's a fighting
tournament, you will feel quite at home there. Hell, what if the
news reporters catch you defeating your foes?'
'Yes... you
have a very good point. However, I'm still not sure, you know.'
Falcon was about as deep in thought as he could get. It was then
that his ultimate reassurance and inspiration for this tournament
came to him, in the form of a little scrawny guy in a badly tailored
business suit. 'And who might you be.'
'Captain Falcon, I am
a representative of Coca-Cola corporation. Name's Michael Boxton. I
heard that you were being drafted for something, and my company is
willing to sponsor you in this event.'
The recruiter then
spoke. 'How the HELL would you have heard that he was being drafted?
I CAME HERE FOR THE OTHER GUY!'
'Yes, that's who I originally
came to offer this sponsorship to, however, it appears he cannot be
used now, and Falcon can, and Coca-Cola whores out all the
advertising we can.'
The master of his own ego then spoke.
'Yes, I will accept this challenge as well as this sponsorship.
Let's be off.'
With those words, a new patch was given to
Falcon for his suit (which was already cluttered up beyond rational
thought with logos). The recruiter then used his mental capacity to
knock Falcon's punk-ass out until the tournament. He walked off, one
thought resonated through his mind. 'My GOD, why me? Why
do I have to put up with people like this... The things I
do...'
He let out a sigh, and vanished into the
darkness...
It was then that the other hero woke
up.
'What... the... hell? Dell Computers? Damn... this place
SUCKS!'
----------------------
And thus ends the most
WTF intro you all shall ever read.
Last
edited by Just Some Guy on 03-13-2003 at 06:33 PM
IP: Logged |
|
ShinkuuR |
Posted: 03-13-2003 , 06:33
PM |
|
New College Grad! Whoo!
 Registered: May 2001 Location: Savannah Ga
|
quote:
Originally posted by San_Draco ShinkuuR: *raises
hand* I'm confuzzled, and have no idea about anything related to
Resident Evil. Explanation, please?
ShinkuuR:...Explanation? Hmmm...I'm studying
for a test at the moment, so I'll let the explanation lady do
it.
Iness: Please stop calling me the 'explanation
lady'.
ShinkuuR: Alright cutie, get to work.
Iness: Well anyway let's get started.
*KABOOM!!
It's time for 'Get to know Resident Evil!!’*
*All the members
of SX sit down in a room eating Ramen noodles while Iness
speaks.*
Iness: Hello everyone, I'm Iness Fresange, and today
we are going to have a short look at the world of Resident Evil.
There's a lot to tell so pay attention.
Bowling Pin: Will
there be a test??
Iness: Yes.
Bowling
Pin:....Shit!
Iness: It all started sometime ago when two men
named Ozwell Spencer and Edward Ashford developed a virus called the
'mother virus' . The reasons for them developing the virus is
unknown, so you can put your hand down
Carly.
CarlyCheeese:....
Iness: The two started a company called Umbrella,
which in addition to producing medicines, weapons, and software of
all kinds, they secretly dealt in developing illegal bioweapons
using the virus by mixing it with all sorts of creatures, mainly
amphibous and insects. The company spread out all over the world
with their main branch in France and other branches in Antartica,
the U.S, and who knows where else. Spencer went to the U.S. branch
located in Racoon City, while Ashford worked in his private island,
where a lab and a prison were added.
Ashford was killed
during a freak accident by his son Alexander, leaving Spencer as the
head of Umbrella. He took on a partner, James Marcus, and two
promising recruits; Albert Wesker and William Birkin. Marcus
developed a virus from the mother virus and leech DNA and called it
the 'Progenitor'. He was very protective of the virus to the point
where even Spencer couldn't work on it, and Spencer decided to kill
him. Yes?
Exeter: Why did Spencer decide to kill
him?
Iness: This is just the short version so don't ask hard
questions.
Exeter: Sorry.
Iness: Anyway, The two who
were assigned the job were Wesker and Birkin, and after they killed
Marcus they were worried about being found out, cause Marcus was a
higher upper, after all. Around this time the two separated, Wesker
deciding to go undercover in the Racoon City police force(to keep an
eye on them) and rising up to a leader in the STARS unit(Special
Tactics And Rescue Squad) while experimenting with a new virus from
France called the T-Virus, while Birkin decided to start work on a
new virus called the G-Virus.
Some time later there were
reports of people being attack and mauled on the outskirts of Racoon
City, and the police sent the STARS Bravo team to investigate. Turns
out there was a outbreak of the Progenitor virus and everyone around
there were turned into zombies!
All:
Oooohhhh....
Iness: Sparing you the details, the resurrected
James Marcus was finally put to rest and most of the Bravo team was
lost in the melee. The next day the STARS Alpha team, lead by none
other than Wesker, went to the sight of the crash and were chased by
creatures. They ended up at this mansion and...
Baka: Ms.
Fresange, I have a question.
Iness: Go ahead.
Baka:
Wasn’t Marcus already dead? And why would Wesker lead the Alpha team
when he should know what was going to happen.
Iness: He was,
but his experimental leeches found him and gave him life and power.
He ended up being killed by a member of the Bravo team. As far as
Wesker is concerned, he decided to leave Umbrella during all of the
chaos and join a rival company. For bargaining power he wanted to
use one of his inventions with the T-Virus, the Tyrant, but first he
needed combat data for the beast against worthy opponents. He lured
the STARS members to the mansion, hoping that one of them would make
it to the Tyrant and get killed. But unfortunately for him, the
Tyrant was killed by Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine, two members
of the Alpha team, and in the process Wesker was killed by the
Tyrant.
All: Hahahaha! Wesker’s a dumb ass!! 
Iness: Not really, he faked his own death by using
a sample of the G-Virus that Birkin gave him, so when Tyrant ran him
through with his claw, Wesker would come back to life with super
powers. Some time after that Chris found out that Birkin was doing
G-Virus research under the city, and Umbrella stepped in to capture
Birkin’s virus cause the T-Virus and Progenitor research was mostly
destroyed by the STARS team(because of this Umbrella put a heavy
bounty on Chris and Jill). They killed Birkin in the process and the
G-Virus was spread to rats, later infecting the entire city. The
government decided to bomb the city before it spread
more.
*Displays map showing the range of
infection*
All: DAYUM!!!
Iness: Right. Chris left to
go to Europe to find Umbrella’s head lab, while Jill stayed behind
gathering evidence. Around this time Claire Redfield, Chris’ sister,
came to town looking for him but only found zombies and a man named
Leon Kennedy, who was a new transfer to the department. They ended
up fighting their way out of Racoon City while saving Shelley
Birkin, William’s daughter. Jill escaped as well, and the four went
on their own path; Jill headed to Europe after Chris, Claire went
after Chris as well using her own leads, and Leon and Shelley joined
a small anti-Umbrella movement.
Lantis: Why didn’t Jill and
Claire go and find Chris together?
Iness: Good question. Even
though his happened in the same place and almost at the same time,
the two groups never saw each other. Bad thing for Claire too, cause
in the process she got caught sneaking around by Umbrella and was
shipped of to an island prison camp.
Switchblade:...the same
place where Alexander Ashford was, right?
Iness: Correct.
You’re a smart one.
Switchblade: 
Luna: Suck up.
Switchblade: You’re just mad
cause I’m smarter than you!! *spits out tounge at
Luna*
Sho/Damned: *grabs Switchblade’s tounge* Please
continue Iness.
Iness: *sigh* Very well. After escaping from
the prison, Claire found a guy named Steve Burnside, and the two
worked together to escape the island. On the way they found a guy
named Alfred Ashford, who was Alexander’s son and was the prison
warden, so to speak.
Ryudo: Why was Alfred just a warden? I
would think that being the son of the head there would give him a
higher position.
Iness: Good question. After Alexander took
control of the facility, his influence in Umbrella came down to
null. To restore his dominance he spliced some genes together with
the genes from the originator of the Ashford clan, Veronica Ashford,
and impregnated some woman with it, giving way to twins; Alfred and
Alexia. The two kids were highly intelligent, Alexia more than her
brother...she graduated from college when she was 10!
Netz
Ausg: Hear that Kellios? This chick graduated when she was 10!
You’ll be lucky to graduate when you turn 60! 
Kellios: What you say? You better take that
back!!
*The two start fighting and the other SX participants
cheer them on.*
Iness: I’ll guess we’ll take a short
break...
SRK Battle
Poll II:10th place - Edge SRK Battle Poll II: 5th place -
Link
One of the reasons why the '24' threads are too
good...
quote:
Originally posted by Azrael-sama
Not to mention
the Triple P's New Ho is going to get herself into all sorts of
shit. We didn't need to see Spinless Weasel Guy stuffing a gun
into his bag to know that's a trap. You have to hand it to Shin
Sherri, not only would she have recognized this blatantly obvious
set-up, she would have RC'ed it into about 7 different traps of
her own. By the time she was done with that guy, he'd be on
welfare and PREGNANT with HER kids.
IP: Logged |
|
ShinkuuR |
Posted: 03-13-2003 , 07:09
PM |
|
New College Grad! Whoo!
 Registered: May 2001 Location: Savannah Ga
|
*Cue
commercial break song*
*Both Kellios and Netz Ausg is
knocked out. m121akuma is trying his best to hide a hammer behind
his back*
m121akuma: Um yeah Iness, you can continue now.

Iness: Well like I was saying, Alexia became the lead researcher
at the island while Alfred became her helper. Alexia developed a
virus that gives the user almost unlimited power, provided they are
suspended in cryosleep for 15 years.
Bowling Pin: Damn...how
will they shit or eat? That’s gotta suck.
colguile: She’s
frozen, dumbass! People don’t have to shit when their
frozen!
Bowling Pin: What do you know? People aren’t supposed
to shit when they’re SLEEPING but you do it all the time! 
colguile: ..............I’m gonna kick your ass
later....
Slipstream: Can you two cut it out? I’m trying to
listen to the story!! Please continue.
Iness: *thinks ‘I’m
going to kill ShinkuuR for this*. She named the virus the T-Veronica
and injected into herself. Alfred put her in cryosleep and kept
watch over her. He misses her so much that he started to dress and
act like her on occasion!
All: Eeeewwww! That’s
nasty!
Iness: Quite. Well anyway, while Claire and Steve were
wandering around there they found Wesker, who was after the
T-Veronica for a new company. Wesker went about his business,
knowing that if Claire was around then Chris would follow, and the
pair ended up escaping to Antarctica thanks to Alfred. Chris got
wind of Claire’s whereabouts and tracked her to Antarctica, where
Alexia was released and ready to unleash all hell.
*shows
picture of Alexia*
Bugenhagen: Hey she’s cute!
Luna:
She’s evil. It wouldn’t work.
Bugenhagen: I know but...one
night couldn’t hurt, could it?
Sho/Damned: No but this will!
*slaps Bugenhagen hard* Now shut up! You’re ruining the
story!
Iness: Soon after Alexia kidnaped Steve and filled him
full of T-Veronica, Chris found Claire at the island, and the two
managed to defeat Alexia. In the end Chris fought Wesker once more
before escaping, and Wesker walked away with Steve’s body in
tow.
San_Draco: Okay...so what does this have to do with the
Battle Poll and SX?
Iness: Well, in the Battle Poll Chris,
Claire, and Jill ransacked Umbrella’s main base and found a book
called the Tome of Souls, which states that the viruses can all be
originated from demons that actually existed. Those demons were
threatened to be released by two demons named Lantis and
Sho...
Lantis and Sho/Damned: No
relation.
Iness:...and the Battle Poll events were held to
find a way to stop them. Wesker got wind of this and went to the
tournament undercover, hoping to recover a purebred demon for
research. That quickly ended when Sho found him and beat the ever
living sh...crap out of him, tearing out his right eye in the
process.
Sho/Damned: 
Iness: Wesker did get lucky, however, by stealing
some shreds of hair from Sho in the fray, and now he is gonna use
that to run more experiments.
S-Chicken Boner: ...For the G
Corporation, right? Who are they?
Iness: Well that’s from
another game and for another Survivor, ladies and gents. Besides,
ShinkuuR’s back from his test.
ShinkuuR:
Understand?
All: Yeah, we know everything
now!
ShinkuuR: And knowing is half the battle!
All: GI
JOE!!!!
Iness:....Idiots.
*Roll
Credits*
If you don't know who Iness is, go see
Martian Successor Nadesico.
SRK Battle
Poll II:10th place - Edge SRK Battle Poll II: 5th place -
Link
One of the reasons why the '24' threads are too
good...
quote:
Originally posted by Azrael-sama
Not to mention
the Triple P's New Ho is going to get herself into all sorts of
shit. We didn't need to see Spinless Weasel Guy stuffing a gun
into his bag to know that's a trap. You have to hand it to Shin
Sherri, not only would she have recognized this blatantly obvious
set-up, she would have RC'ed it into about 7 different traps of
her own. By the time she was done with that guy, he'd be on
welfare and PREGNANT with HER kids.
IP: Logged |
|
Exeter |
Posted: 03-13-2003 , 08:11
PM |
|
Rock You
 Registered: Feb 2003 Location:
|
...that was the most entertaining thing I've ever read.
Plus, I understand RE a bit better. Bravo, ShinkuuR. 
IP: Logged |
|
Bowling
Pin |
Posted: 03-13-2003 , 08:36
PM |
|
The 24 Edit Team Av
 Registered: Feb 2001 Location: Harker Heights, TX,
USA
|
Whoa,
that was an awesome crash course! One thing bothers me though...what
about my man Tofu?
IP: Logged |
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ShinkuuR |
Posted: 03-13-2003 , 08:42
PM |
|
New College Grad! Whoo!
 Registered: May 2001 Location: Savannah Ga
|
quote:
Originally posted by Exeter ...that was the most
entertaining thing I've ever read. Plus, I understand RE a bit
better. Bravo, ShinkuuR.
No prob. I aim to please!
quote:
Originally posted by Bowling Pin Whoa, that was an
awesome crash course! One thing bothers me though...what about my
man Tofu?
...Iness said that he was looking for some
bean curd and got caught in the Racoon City bombing.
Oops.
SRK Battle
Poll II:10th place - Edge SRK Battle Poll II: 5th place -
Link
One of the reasons why the '24' threads are too
good...
quote:
Originally posted by Azrael-sama
Not to mention
the Triple P's New Ho is going to get herself into all sorts of
shit. We didn't need to see Spinless Weasel Guy stuffing a gun
into his bag to know that's a trap. You have to hand it to Shin
Sherri, not only would she have recognized this blatantly obvious
set-up, she would have RC'ed it into about 7 different traps of
her own. By the time she was done with that guy, he'd be on
welfare and PREGNANT with HER kids.
IP: Logged |
| |