Should be fun. I've been looking forward to this round and this might just be the perfect setting.
The Ratings War III: Republic of Heaven (Second Round Finals)
- Thread starter The Sorrow
- Start date
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Armitage Shanks, my old adversary, it is a pleasure to meet with you again. My happy anticipation of your entry fills me with excitement.
Hey now now, the smallest things are crushing me now-
--------------------------------------------------------------------
'Really? I'm just hoping to be more like the younger Sub-Zero than Liu Kang. Y'know? I don't mind if I get taken out, I just wanna survive. As in, I don't wanna win this tournament, but lose one a couple of years down the track then get turned into a zombie, y'now?'
The figure certainly didn't look like an angel. Or a demon. He was just, ordinary. Wore a zippered grey bomber jacket, over a white shirt and thin black tie, with grey slacks and leather shoes. Like a 20-something misunderstanding the smart casual requirement of a job interview. He even responded with bored disinterest.
'Sorry, I never played your earthly "Tekken".'
'You mean Mortal Kombat,' Henry didn't like being demeaned in that way, even from a celestial being.
The entitiy chuckled 'Heh, course I knew it was Mortal Kombat. I'm on fuckin Purgatory Patrol, what else do you think I got to do besides gaming. And Sub-Zeros always my choice as well... what are the chances, huh?'
Henry sighed, a glance at the watch told him exactly what the chances were. Well, you'll need it for the fight.
'Speaking of games mein freund, seems like you're finally up.'
The waiting room began to shimmer. It had been literally a waiting room, a few metal frame chairs, low coffee table with magazienes at least two years out of date. A loud ticking clock was even mounted above a sign explaining its donation by the local Womens Association. The 'Purgatory Womens Association', apparently. Henry was beginning to think the Almighty, or whoever ran this joint, didn't get out much. And had too much of a thing for literal metaphors.
It wasn't a 'ZAP' like a sci-fi teleport, but just a slow creeping insubstantiality. The joke waiting room seemed to become softer, duller. An 'Uhhhhh....whatever...' kind of teleport, if anything. He didn't want to try it, but Henry was sure if put his hand on the table now, it would sink in to it.
'-but you probably knew that already, so I won't need to explain it again.' Too late, he realised the entity had been talking the whole time. 'Anyway, give em a Down, Away, Y and you should be fine,' he finished with a wink, and Henry saw the second thing he hadn't realised, the angel-man had also been fading.
The last traces of waiting room blurred and winked out. Well if thats Purgatory, the perpetual wait, then hell must be one of those ironic interpretations, like the concrete cell without god... maybe the environment won't be a factor here.
The battleround didn't softy fade into existence. It burst.
With fwoosh.
And flames.
And the voices of the wrongs.
------------------------------------------------------------------
-The crush crush crush is so comforting now.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
'Really? I'm just hoping to be more like the younger Sub-Zero than Liu Kang. Y'know? I don't mind if I get taken out, I just wanna survive. As in, I don't wanna win this tournament, but lose one a couple of years down the track then get turned into a zombie, y'now?'
The figure certainly didn't look like an angel. Or a demon. He was just, ordinary. Wore a zippered grey bomber jacket, over a white shirt and thin black tie, with grey slacks and leather shoes. Like a 20-something misunderstanding the smart casual requirement of a job interview. He even responded with bored disinterest.
'Sorry, I never played your earthly "Tekken".'
'You mean Mortal Kombat,' Henry didn't like being demeaned in that way, even from a celestial being.
The entitiy chuckled 'Heh, course I knew it was Mortal Kombat. I'm on fuckin Purgatory Patrol, what else do you think I got to do besides gaming. And Sub-Zeros always my choice as well... what are the chances, huh?'
Henry sighed, a glance at the watch told him exactly what the chances were. Well, you'll need it for the fight.
'Speaking of games mein freund, seems like you're finally up.'
The waiting room began to shimmer. It had been literally a waiting room, a few metal frame chairs, low coffee table with magazienes at least two years out of date. A loud ticking clock was even mounted above a sign explaining its donation by the local Womens Association. The 'Purgatory Womens Association', apparently. Henry was beginning to think the Almighty, or whoever ran this joint, didn't get out much. And had too much of a thing for literal metaphors.
It wasn't a 'ZAP' like a sci-fi teleport, but just a slow creeping insubstantiality. The joke waiting room seemed to become softer, duller. An 'Uhhhhh....whatever...' kind of teleport, if anything. He didn't want to try it, but Henry was sure if put his hand on the table now, it would sink in to it.
'-but you probably knew that already, so I won't need to explain it again.' Too late, he realised the entity had been talking the whole time. 'Anyway, give em a Down, Away, Y and you should be fine,' he finished with a wink, and Henry saw the second thing he hadn't realised, the angel-man had also been fading.
The last traces of waiting room blurred and winked out. Well if thats Purgatory, the perpetual wait, then hell must be one of those ironic interpretations, like the concrete cell without god... maybe the environment won't be a factor here.
The battleround didn't softy fade into existence. It burst.
With fwoosh.
And flames.
And the voices of the wrongs.
------------------------------------------------------------------
-The crush crush crush is so comforting now.
And Msh, if this will be anything like the last one, then I look forward to it with equal anticiation.
I'm not the most humble person, in fact, usually i'd raise a fancy wine glass right about now to toast how true you are.Flying-Emu said:
But nah, I thought that your post was perfectly fine. I'd only win because i'd waste two-and-a-half days on mine. My only problem with your story was technically my fault. It didn't portray Oliver correctly, but that's only because I never properly described him.
And thanks Higu, napkins always cheer me up.
Also, to Sorrow, i've decided not to participate in any future [i\]Ratings Wars[/i]. However, if you have any other nice tournament-esque projects, I would enjoy them.
?I feel like the only thing worse than fighting this war, would be living to see it end.? - Session 14
There had come a hundred like it before. The wars of men held no surprises for Farfig. Being shot at was something he was well used to by now, more bullets came his way than the backdrop of a shooting range. The sandy beaches were a welcome respite for a man who had been treading across organs and corpses only a little while before. He was calm, his broad chest rose and fell slowly as he looked out over the crater polluted landscape. The young faces all around him stared in awe and some even lost their lives in the moment of distraction. He could see the fear in their eyes. They were men at peace with dying, veterans, younger than he and convinced they had seen it all. Everyone had a muted expression, taciturn sentinels vigilant to their own impending demise.
His mind was suddenly filled with messages, like a skipping record he received bits and pieces of input. All the chunks were enough though, he was aware of what side he was fighting on and which side he was attacking. They told him of his target and his location. Yet they had failed to inform him of his own. A map clutched in the hand of a corpse tumbling down a nearby dune seemed to be a divine act. The stoic specter plucked the dirty guide from the dead mans hand. He placed himself in the dog green sector; the map was courteous enough to also show him exactly what he would be assaulting. The confession of a frightened soldier told him he was with the eastern task force, company A of the 116th RTC. 116th, that was the lowest division number he had heard since he joined the military. Now he had everything he needed, the war was on.
Farfig whipped the chain, roaring a command above the scream of artillery and the barking of machine gun fire. Mark stood from it?s crouching position and pulled the face cover of its helmet down as the man with the chain jumped onto the rack located on the back of Marks armor, he repeated himself and the monster set off. A twelve-foot wall of steel charged across the beach, bullets whizzing by and bouncing off. The creature kept its head down, the bullets of desperate snipers bouncing off the metal sheet protecting the top of its skull. The deadly hail of bullets met its match quickly though, the explosion of lead and thunder from Marks own weapon left fist sized dents all across the stone walls of the hillside fortifications. The roar was like the charge of an army of lions, only matched by the thunderous cry of each armor-clad footfall on the sandy terrain. Terrified screams were drowned beneath the riot of noise as the monster made its collision with the stone barricades.
The bunker had crumbled to dust and fragments of stone. Farfig was well aware of the barriers condition and already moving into the inner workings of the bunker. It was cold here, but the air was hot with activity. The gunfire never stopped here but with the end of Marks racket he could hear the screams coming out from beneath it. 9mm, popping over and over again from the barrel of a machine gun, mixing with the heavy thumping of .45?s, and all the while the 7.62mm wouldn?t shut the fuck up, constantly droning on like a whiny child. It was strange, to him everything sounded like friendly fire, this was nothing like the war back home. His foes were too? familiar.
It seemed to do nothing to stay his hand or trigger finger. He killed his way through the bunker with incredible ease. The heavy pistol punching cantaloupe sized exit wounds in anything unlucky enough to find itself between his sites. Men screamed in German, he knew some German and their dying words were never polite. The man popped around corners, from behind crates and door jams. They were just targets in a shooting gallery. Whatever they had planned to do to him they always seemed to fail, they called him a ******, cursing him if they weren?t killed immediately. They were angry men, confused by how easily the fortification fell and terrified by the black phantom that darted through their position illuminating every room with gunfire only to shroud it in pistol smoke.
This cycle continued for some time, death began to saturate the place as the piles of dead grew. Finally his barrel was hot and his last clip was empty and the place was quiet. All the noise came from outside, Farfig stood in an empty room, his only company a couple crates and few dead men. The silence, and the peace it brought lasted only for a moment. When the gunfire stopped the knives began. A tidal wave of pointed metal flew towards him from the shadows, a few buried themselves in the hardened plates of his armors chest plate but a few were able to exploit his chinks. When the flashing steel ceased it left him looking like a brutal pincushion. He didn?t scream as the metal bit into his flesh, rather he simply began to pull them out, being out of ammo he would need a weapon of his own.
Rather than another wave of death, a voice came from the shadows. Heavily accented, but speaking English well enough to understand it. ?Thanks for killing them racist white folk for me. They didn?t much care for our kind.? A wide white grin pierced through the shadows as the large dark skinned man stepped out to reveal himself. The black man was one of great stature, easily comparable to Farfigs own size. Yet he was broader in size and his clothing was discernable older, the differences between the two far outweighed their similarities. The most glaring being the pentagram tattoo emblazoned across his opponents fore head. The eyes of the knife wielder darted over his targets armor. He obviously took offense at the language painted all across it. It showed in the second volley of knives that seemed to jump from his hands. The lack of shadows made it easier for Farfig to avoid them, the glinting steel clattered off the far wall as he put a crate between himself and his attacker.
?You are a man of anger!? The shouts came up above the gunfire echoing about the beaches outside. ?I can feel all the hatred that chills your soul! You won?t kill me though, you fear hell far too much. I speak to the ghosts that haunt you. So very many, like a sea of death. You have killed many people, but I will be the one to bring them the revenge they all shout for!? The man began to laugh. Farfig recalled that he was called Lex. Or something along those lines, as it happened what he heard about the man was correct, he had some kind of control over spirits. The only issue was that Farfig had no idea the extent they went to. ?I am going-?
Farfig had grown tired of the monologue, leaping out from behind the crate he was met with yet another wave of blades; they failed to deter him though. The distance was closed and the battle began anew. The two locked in battle, the spark and scrape of metal against metal marked the exchange of blows. A flurry of sinew and steel flashed in the dim lighting of the wrecked bunker. As the battle raged on Farfig heard the whispers of dead men, they spoke in languages he could not understand, but every now and then he was distracted by the appearance of his name and Lex was able to land a blow. Deep cuts began to litter his body. The torment became to much, Farfig knew it was time to retreat.
Lex?s knives pursued the path he took closely, yet the flight was not to escape his enemy but to rearm. The ground was covered with dead men, and dead soldiers meant new weapons. Sub machine guns and bolt action rifles, officer?s pistols. A small armory was scattered across the area. As any soldier could tell you, any gun was better than no gun. Farfig selected a discarded MP 40, replying to the waves with knives with his own stream of bullets. The fire and thunder of the weapon seemed to surprise his opponent who dived for cover behind a door frame. He had seen it before, the fear of automatic weapons. It was common in the early stages of his war back home. Many soldiers came from dimensions where no guns, or no automatic guns existed. The flurry of bullets never failed to terrify their green recruits. He selected another one from the floor and dived around the corner, the knives came yet again, sticking him all over, yet he kept going through the pain. His body clinked and gave a wet ploop as it hit the ground, so punctured with steel and covered in fresh red blood. Lex grinned, thinking it was over. Yet the number of knives was not yet great enough to stay his trigger finger.
Hails of bullets, two full clips, were emptied at the grinning fool. His body was quickly cut to shreds, each bullet catching a great amount of meat in its teeth. Those hunting dogs with jaws of steel did their jobs well taking down their master?s prey. They did their duty like loyal soldiers and eagerly snuffed out their lives for the greater good. Farfig rose as the ringing in his ears faded. He pulled a knife from his body, and then another and another after that until they were all removed and the floor was cluttered with bloody metal. He kept one in his hand as he approached his battered foe. The rest of the world seemed quiet as he teetered between life and death. He nearly fell over the brink when he saw Lex still on the ground grinning. ?You won?t kill me, I can hear your dead friends talking. They say you never want to kill anyone; well this contest gives you the choice the wars never gave you! You?ll let me live, I know you. I have the stories you told all your friends, all words spoken to them, it?s like I was there just over your shoulder eavesdropping. You can?t do it. You fear death, you fear hell but most of all you fear guilt. This match is over.? Farfig stood over Lex, watching the mad voodoo man laugh. Laugh at him, laugh at his dead friends, and laugh at the ghosts of the dead men who haunted him. But he was right; he didn?t want to kill him.
Yet he descended on him, taking the knife in his hand and driving it through his heart, butchering his already shattered form until there was nothing but strips of meat and gore where a body once lay. Lex screamed as it was done crying out, ?But why? Why, you don?t even want to do this!? Farfig remained silent until it was all over. As he stood over the pile of flesh panting and straining to keep conscious he finally replied.
?I don?t want to, but this is war. I have to.?
His mind was suddenly filled with messages, like a skipping record he received bits and pieces of input. All the chunks were enough though, he was aware of what side he was fighting on and which side he was attacking. They told him of his target and his location. Yet they had failed to inform him of his own. A map clutched in the hand of a corpse tumbling down a nearby dune seemed to be a divine act. The stoic specter plucked the dirty guide from the dead mans hand. He placed himself in the dog green sector; the map was courteous enough to also show him exactly what he would be assaulting. The confession of a frightened soldier told him he was with the eastern task force, company A of the 116th RTC. 116th, that was the lowest division number he had heard since he joined the military. Now he had everything he needed, the war was on.
Farfig whipped the chain, roaring a command above the scream of artillery and the barking of machine gun fire. Mark stood from it?s crouching position and pulled the face cover of its helmet down as the man with the chain jumped onto the rack located on the back of Marks armor, he repeated himself and the monster set off. A twelve-foot wall of steel charged across the beach, bullets whizzing by and bouncing off. The creature kept its head down, the bullets of desperate snipers bouncing off the metal sheet protecting the top of its skull. The deadly hail of bullets met its match quickly though, the explosion of lead and thunder from Marks own weapon left fist sized dents all across the stone walls of the hillside fortifications. The roar was like the charge of an army of lions, only matched by the thunderous cry of each armor-clad footfall on the sandy terrain. Terrified screams were drowned beneath the riot of noise as the monster made its collision with the stone barricades.
The bunker had crumbled to dust and fragments of stone. Farfig was well aware of the barriers condition and already moving into the inner workings of the bunker. It was cold here, but the air was hot with activity. The gunfire never stopped here but with the end of Marks racket he could hear the screams coming out from beneath it. 9mm, popping over and over again from the barrel of a machine gun, mixing with the heavy thumping of .45?s, and all the while the 7.62mm wouldn?t shut the fuck up, constantly droning on like a whiny child. It was strange, to him everything sounded like friendly fire, this was nothing like the war back home. His foes were too? familiar.
It seemed to do nothing to stay his hand or trigger finger. He killed his way through the bunker with incredible ease. The heavy pistol punching cantaloupe sized exit wounds in anything unlucky enough to find itself between his sites. Men screamed in German, he knew some German and their dying words were never polite. The man popped around corners, from behind crates and door jams. They were just targets in a shooting gallery. Whatever they had planned to do to him they always seemed to fail, they called him a ******, cursing him if they weren?t killed immediately. They were angry men, confused by how easily the fortification fell and terrified by the black phantom that darted through their position illuminating every room with gunfire only to shroud it in pistol smoke.
This cycle continued for some time, death began to saturate the place as the piles of dead grew. Finally his barrel was hot and his last clip was empty and the place was quiet. All the noise came from outside, Farfig stood in an empty room, his only company a couple crates and few dead men. The silence, and the peace it brought lasted only for a moment. When the gunfire stopped the knives began. A tidal wave of pointed metal flew towards him from the shadows, a few buried themselves in the hardened plates of his armors chest plate but a few were able to exploit his chinks. When the flashing steel ceased it left him looking like a brutal pincushion. He didn?t scream as the metal bit into his flesh, rather he simply began to pull them out, being out of ammo he would need a weapon of his own.
Rather than another wave of death, a voice came from the shadows. Heavily accented, but speaking English well enough to understand it. ?Thanks for killing them racist white folk for me. They didn?t much care for our kind.? A wide white grin pierced through the shadows as the large dark skinned man stepped out to reveal himself. The black man was one of great stature, easily comparable to Farfigs own size. Yet he was broader in size and his clothing was discernable older, the differences between the two far outweighed their similarities. The most glaring being the pentagram tattoo emblazoned across his opponents fore head. The eyes of the knife wielder darted over his targets armor. He obviously took offense at the language painted all across it. It showed in the second volley of knives that seemed to jump from his hands. The lack of shadows made it easier for Farfig to avoid them, the glinting steel clattered off the far wall as he put a crate between himself and his attacker.
?You are a man of anger!? The shouts came up above the gunfire echoing about the beaches outside. ?I can feel all the hatred that chills your soul! You won?t kill me though, you fear hell far too much. I speak to the ghosts that haunt you. So very many, like a sea of death. You have killed many people, but I will be the one to bring them the revenge they all shout for!? The man began to laugh. Farfig recalled that he was called Lex. Or something along those lines, as it happened what he heard about the man was correct, he had some kind of control over spirits. The only issue was that Farfig had no idea the extent they went to. ?I am going-?
Farfig had grown tired of the monologue, leaping out from behind the crate he was met with yet another wave of blades; they failed to deter him though. The distance was closed and the battle began anew. The two locked in battle, the spark and scrape of metal against metal marked the exchange of blows. A flurry of sinew and steel flashed in the dim lighting of the wrecked bunker. As the battle raged on Farfig heard the whispers of dead men, they spoke in languages he could not understand, but every now and then he was distracted by the appearance of his name and Lex was able to land a blow. Deep cuts began to litter his body. The torment became to much, Farfig knew it was time to retreat.
Lex?s knives pursued the path he took closely, yet the flight was not to escape his enemy but to rearm. The ground was covered with dead men, and dead soldiers meant new weapons. Sub machine guns and bolt action rifles, officer?s pistols. A small armory was scattered across the area. As any soldier could tell you, any gun was better than no gun. Farfig selected a discarded MP 40, replying to the waves with knives with his own stream of bullets. The fire and thunder of the weapon seemed to surprise his opponent who dived for cover behind a door frame. He had seen it before, the fear of automatic weapons. It was common in the early stages of his war back home. Many soldiers came from dimensions where no guns, or no automatic guns existed. The flurry of bullets never failed to terrify their green recruits. He selected another one from the floor and dived around the corner, the knives came yet again, sticking him all over, yet he kept going through the pain. His body clinked and gave a wet ploop as it hit the ground, so punctured with steel and covered in fresh red blood. Lex grinned, thinking it was over. Yet the number of knives was not yet great enough to stay his trigger finger.
Hails of bullets, two full clips, were emptied at the grinning fool. His body was quickly cut to shreds, each bullet catching a great amount of meat in its teeth. Those hunting dogs with jaws of steel did their jobs well taking down their master?s prey. They did their duty like loyal soldiers and eagerly snuffed out their lives for the greater good. Farfig rose as the ringing in his ears faded. He pulled a knife from his body, and then another and another after that until they were all removed and the floor was cluttered with bloody metal. He kept one in his hand as he approached his battered foe. The rest of the world seemed quiet as he teetered between life and death. He nearly fell over the brink when he saw Lex still on the ground grinning. ?You won?t kill me, I can hear your dead friends talking. They say you never want to kill anyone; well this contest gives you the choice the wars never gave you! You?ll let me live, I know you. I have the stories you told all your friends, all words spoken to them, it?s like I was there just over your shoulder eavesdropping. You can?t do it. You fear death, you fear hell but most of all you fear guilt. This match is over.? Farfig stood over Lex, watching the mad voodoo man laugh. Laugh at him, laugh at his dead friends, and laugh at the ghosts of the dead men who haunted him. But he was right; he didn?t want to kill him.
Yet he descended on him, taking the knife in his hand and driving it through his heart, butchering his already shattered form until there was nothing but strips of meat and gore where a body once lay. Lex screamed as it was done crying out, ?But why? Why, you don?t even want to do this!? Farfig remained silent until it was all over. As he stood over the pile of flesh panting and straining to keep conscious he finally replied.
?I don?t want to, but this is war. I have to.?
?A man once told me to bring his last words to his son. I told him I wouldn?t be able to get to him? His response was ?Don?t worry, he?ll be here soon enough.?? ? Session 18
And if there just isn't a need to be so fucking polite...
==========================================
The voices. Got in is head, ripped at his self. The voices. Surely he couldn't have hurt this many?
The voices. Forget the opponent. Not just blackness. A canvas, if you will. And letters
in beautiful technicolour, splash across.. letters, of the voices.
Henry, that you?_________________________________________________________________________
Henry Wilson? Year 11?_______________________________________Oh. Its you. Fitting. Really.
______________________________________Heh. Oh the irony._____________________________
You don't remember?____________________________________________________________________
Allow me to remember___________________________________________________________________
for you then._________________________________________________Irony? You'd waste breath
__________________________________________________________ singin' bout the irony? Not
__________________________________________________________ that we have breath to
I was a year below you._________________________________________waste, so I guess we can
And mum was giving me________________________________________thank him for that.
a lift to guitar. I never___________________________________________________________________
got there on time if I got__________________Heh. It amuses me.____________________________
the bus, see? So she was_______________________________________Yeah, well some of us aren't
driving me, and I was__________________________________________Interested in your little ditty.
red faced cause Sam Haynes_______________________________________________________________
called me a 'Mommas Boy'___________________________________________I want vengeance!________
as we drove off.___________________________________________________It was my call!_____________
_______________________________________________________________My ballad! You stole!________
So she switched it to_______________________________________________________________________
my station, laughed_______________________________________________________________________
it off. Satisfaction._______________________Are you not tired of______________________________
Stones. We were stuck ___________________keeping the beat?________________________________
behind your car Henry.___________________Heh, I welcome the key _________________________________
Then you turned off._____________________change. Heh.___________________________________________
________________________________________________________I suppose. At least we're only
But the next intersection______________________________________the start. Henry's gonna wish
we went through. All four_____________________________________he never entered this tourney.
tires blowout. At the same____________________________________________________________________________
time. The battery dies.________________________________________________________________________________
A semi barrels through.__________________Heh. The poor DJ____________________________________
Stones double shot._____________________will have nothing______________________________________
Paint it Black._____________________________left to harmonize.__________________________________________
__________________________________________Heh._______________________________________________________________
The driver had never______________________________________________________________________________________________
had a seizure before.______________________________________________________________________________________________________
What are the chances?________________________________________Quiet, quiet. The chorus'll start soon._____________________
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
______________I'm so happy. Cause today______________________________________________________________________
______________I found my friends, are in________________________________________________________
______________my head.____________________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________________________________
_______________________________________Curtains for young_______________________________________________________
_______________________________________Henry eh? Before__________________________________________________
_______________________________________he even fights._________________________________________________
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________Jacks are feeling fine,_____________________________
____________________________________________________they've clubbed themselves______________
____________________________________________________to death.____________________________
__________________________________________________________________________________________________
_____________Lust, spite and malice,________________________________________________________
______________you're degrees of sin________________________________________________________
__________________________________________and its true we named our children______________
__________________________________________after towns that we'd never been to______________
__________________________________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________You were so true to yourself, you were______________
__________________________________________true to no one else, well I should put______________
__________________________________________you in the ground.____________________________
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
______________All night long, dream of the day________________________________________________________
______________when it comes around, and its________________________________________________________
______________taken away, leaves me with the________________________________________________________
______________feeling that I feel the most.________________________________________________________
______________feel it come to life when________________________________________________________
______________I see your ghost.________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
_______________Heeey don't let it go to waste__________________________________________
______________ I love it but I hate the taste.__________________________________________
_________________________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________How could he know, this new_____
________________________________________________________dawns light would change________
________________________________________________________his life for ever?________________
____________________________________________________________________________________
_______________________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________________
But you knew exactly__________________________________________________________________________________________
what the chances_______________________________________________________________He got me too.__________
were, didn't you?___________________________________And me. No one loses _____________________________________________
________________________________________ both kidneys on the same day._____________________
_____________I'm just a man, doing the best I can.__________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
_____________________It was my first time skydiving. It never happens on the first time._______________________
_____________________But I guess they didn't anticipate shaking hands with Henry__________________________________________
_____________________Wilson the day before, did they?_______________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________________Its starting! Its starting!_____________________
__________________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________________
_______________________________________________________________________________
But now fate is against you____________________________________
_________________________________________________________
I hope you suffer. _____________________
Hard.
===============================================
... at least it helps you sleep easier at night.
==========================================
The voices. Got in is head, ripped at his self. The voices. Surely he couldn't have hurt this many?
The voices. Forget the opponent. Not just blackness. A canvas, if you will. And letters
in beautiful technicolour, splash across.. letters, of the voices.
Henry, that you?_________________________________________________________________________
Henry Wilson? Year 11?_______________________________________Oh. Its you. Fitting. Really.
______________________________________Heh. Oh the irony._____________________________
You don't remember?____________________________________________________________________
Allow me to remember___________________________________________________________________
for you then._________________________________________________Irony? You'd waste breath
__________________________________________________________ singin' bout the irony? Not
__________________________________________________________ that we have breath to
I was a year below you._________________________________________waste, so I guess we can
And mum was giving me________________________________________thank him for that.
a lift to guitar. I never___________________________________________________________________
got there on time if I got__________________Heh. It amuses me.____________________________
the bus, see? So she was_______________________________________Yeah, well some of us aren't
driving me, and I was__________________________________________Interested in your little ditty.
red faced cause Sam Haynes_______________________________________________________________
called me a 'Mommas Boy'___________________________________________I want vengeance!________
as we drove off.___________________________________________________It was my call!_____________
_______________________________________________________________My ballad! You stole!________
So she switched it to_______________________________________________________________________
my station, laughed_______________________________________________________________________
it off. Satisfaction._______________________Are you not tired of______________________________
Stones. We were stuck ___________________keeping the beat?________________________________
behind your car Henry.___________________Heh, I welcome the key _________________________________
Then you turned off._____________________change. Heh.___________________________________________
________________________________________________________I suppose. At least we're only
But the next intersection______________________________________the start. Henry's gonna wish
we went through. All four_____________________________________he never entered this tourney.
tires blowout. At the same____________________________________________________________________________
time. The battery dies.________________________________________________________________________________
A semi barrels through.__________________Heh. The poor DJ____________________________________
Stones double shot._____________________will have nothing______________________________________
Paint it Black._____________________________left to harmonize.__________________________________________
__________________________________________Heh._______________________________________________________________
The driver had never______________________________________________________________________________________________
had a seizure before.______________________________________________________________________________________________________
What are the chances?________________________________________Quiet, quiet. The chorus'll start soon._____________________
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________
______________I'm so happy. Cause today______________________________________________________________________
______________I found my friends, are in________________________________________________________
______________my head.____________________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________________________________
_______________________________________Curtains for young_______________________________________________________
_______________________________________Henry eh? Before__________________________________________________
_______________________________________he even fights._________________________________________________
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________Jacks are feeling fine,_____________________________
____________________________________________________they've clubbed themselves______________
____________________________________________________to death.____________________________
__________________________________________________________________________________________________
_____________Lust, spite and malice,________________________________________________________
______________you're degrees of sin________________________________________________________
__________________________________________and its true we named our children______________
__________________________________________after towns that we'd never been to______________
__________________________________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________You were so true to yourself, you were______________
__________________________________________true to no one else, well I should put______________
__________________________________________you in the ground.____________________________
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
______________All night long, dream of the day________________________________________________________
______________when it comes around, and its________________________________________________________
______________taken away, leaves me with the________________________________________________________
______________feeling that I feel the most.________________________________________________________
______________feel it come to life when________________________________________________________
______________I see your ghost.________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
_______________Heeey don't let it go to waste__________________________________________
______________ I love it but I hate the taste.__________________________________________
_________________________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________How could he know, this new_____
________________________________________________________dawns light would change________
________________________________________________________his life for ever?________________
____________________________________________________________________________________
_______________________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________________
But you knew exactly__________________________________________________________________________________________
what the chances_______________________________________________________________He got me too.__________
were, didn't you?___________________________________And me. No one loses _____________________________________________
________________________________________ both kidneys on the same day._____________________
_____________I'm just a man, doing the best I can.__________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
_____________________It was my first time skydiving. It never happens on the first time._______________________
_____________________But I guess they didn't anticipate shaking hands with Henry__________________________________________
_____________________Wilson the day before, did they?_______________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________________Its starting! Its starting!_____________________
__________________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________________
_______________________________________________________________________________
But now fate is against you____________________________________
_________________________________________________________
I hope you suffer. _____________________
Hard.
===============================================
... at least it helps you sleep easier at night.
More, I know I've really been stringing it out, but the next one will be the last one, and the actual fight. And it should make sense. That thing is kind of like what is going on inside Henry's head.mshcherbatskaya said:
EDIT: Also, think of the post with the lines and stuff as like sheet music.
As a side note, Devon never sees Boldero again. I'll let you make of that as you will.
Devon woke up, cracked his neck, put on a pair of pants. Same routine as he'd had for the last four days. In continuing that routine, he had no idea what the hell it was that he was going to do next, sat on the bed for a few minutes, rubbed his face.
Devon had been contemplating his situation, and had decided that he was over his head. What he knew was that the "Seat of God" was open, or something along those lines, that he was fighting in a tournament to decide who the hell got this seat, and that, as he had suspected since before he could remember, that there was something different about him, something that made him special, importiant. What he didn't know was the circumstances in the vacancy in this seat, why he was chosen for this, instead of the next mook over, and exactly what it was that made him so goddamn importiant that a guy with a gun, a massive sword, and a shitload of razors would rather die than let him do the same.
Then there were the things he didn't want to know; how a being like God, something that was supposed to be all knowing and all powerful, capable not only of creating the universe, but knowing every fucking thing that was going to fucking happen could up and die. Things like what exactly it was he was fighting for, because the angel seemed to be very good at dancing around that subject or sending him to deathmatches in frozen wastes before Devon could think to ask. Things like how a person who clearly wanted Devon to die, who clearly had the means to kill him, who had a gun, a massive gun, pointed at his head, could be somehow physichally unable to pull the trigger. It was the last thing that scared Devon most. He'd never belived in God, and he didn't give a damn about the tournament he was in the middle of. He didn't mind being importiant, either; all the more reason to have a super-inflated ego. What he did mind was knowing that he was so importiant that someone couldn't kill him, physichally couldn't kill him, someone, even someone who was barely more than a machine, would rather die than let Devon do the same. Devon wasn't the most morally riteous prick in the universe, but he knew it wasn't right to control people the way the guy he fought had been controlled. Devon had used that against him, turned the whole idea around, but he didn't know it would mean the guy would die.
I killed him. Devon thought, continuing his daily routine. I fucking killed a man. Imagined doing a lot of things in my life, but not killing a person, not like that. He didn't even know he had a choice, what the hell-
And the routine was broken.
"It's about fucking time." Devon said, looking up. "I've been waiting for four days for one of you tossers to show up."
In front of Devon stood an angel. Not an angel of the same stature as the one who dragged him into this nonsense; Devon could see the wall thourgh this one, and the other one radiated with an almost painful brilliant white light; this one had more of a gentle, warm, peach colored light, and somethign familiar about her. Devon wondered briefly if her gender had anything to do with it.
"I feel it my responsibility to tell you that such language doesn't behoove you. My name is Boldero."
"Sweet. I'm Devon. Pleasure's all mine."
Boldero smiled, sat down next to Devon. "Are you comfortable?"
"Comfortable isn't the word I would use, but it's more comfortable than the last place the other guy sent me."
"I understand."
"Oh?"
"Pretty as it may be, a prison is still a prison."
Devon took a deep breath, looked Boldero over agian. "Yeah. Yeah, that's exactly what I was thinking. Are all angels telepathic?"
"No, but most of them are."
"Is that why you're here? You think I need help?"
"Yes."
"Kay. So..." Devon shrugged. "Help."
"What would you like to know?"
"...the fuck?"
"Are you familiar with James 1:5?"
"No, I'm agnostic."
"If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally, and without reaproach, and it shall be given to them."
"Y'know, I've thought a lot of things about God, but I would never think he was a democrat."
Boldero smiled. "God is many things."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. So explain to me how this works."
"If any of you lacks wisdom, let him-."
"Fine, fine, I get it. No easy answers, nothing I didn't already know in the first place."
"Perhaps."
Devon thought for a moment, thought hard. He knew what he needed to ask, but he knew that any question he would ask would lead to something he didn't want to know.
"It is difficult." Boldero said.
"Would you stop doing that? It does't make it any easier to think."
"Child, I have been around humans for thousands of years. I may not know exactly what you are thinking, but I know how you are thinking about it."
Devon looked at Boldero hard, again. "What are you?"
"A guide, for those who care to listen. It is our calling."
"So you think I need help?"
"More than most. You are many things, Devon, and you are usually not unaware of your situation; however, you were sent with very little information to do something you were not prepared to do. It was only through His divine will-"
"Wait, I thought he was dead?"
"No. He is always here, watching, guiding."
"Then what the hell-"
"The being that was killed-"
"Killed?-"
"Was as a vassal. He protects this place, and all the places within it. He was not God, but the voice of God."
Devon took a deep breath. "So this whole thing is to determine-"
"Who will be the next after him."
"Yeah, who's fucked up idea was it to have people like me fight each other to death."
"Not to death, not always. One can surrender, one can be incapacitated."
"What do you know about the guy I fought?"
"He was a being named The Conduit. His duty was to preserve reality, keep it as it is."
"Why couldn't he kill me?"
"His duty, the only thing he knew, was to uphold existence. He was, as you have proven to yourself, little more than a machine."
"He had a soul."
"Which is of little use if you do not know you have it."
Devon stood up, putting one fist on his hip and another on his temple. "Goddamn it. God fucking damn it."
"He found out in the end. I will not say he was happy, but he did not regret his decision."
"He could have folded."
"He could not."
"He could have shot me through the shoulder or some fucking thing, knocked me out."
"He could not."
"Then I could have fucking folded!"
"You could not."
"Bullshit!"
"You had no way of knowing. You cannot blame yourself for what happened."
"The fuck I can't. I knew there was a better way, I knew there was a better fucking way, I should have tried-"
"You did try.You did very well, better than anyone could have or would have expected. You did the impossible; You changed The Conduit's mind, taught him that there was something better than what he had. Even if it was for a moment, for him, it was worth a thousand lifetimes of waiting."
Devon sat down, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Why couldn't he kill me?"
"You know why."
"Yeah, I know I'm special, I know I'm different, I know I'm The Eighth, The Pillar of Sun or some fucking thing like that, but I don't know what that means."
"Neither do I."
"Bullshit."
"You are...I will not say crucial, but importiant to existence."
"How?"
"I told you, I do not know."
Devon rose again, fingers coursing through his hair. "How the hell can't you know?"
"Sephiroth-"
"Sephiroth? Long-ass white hair, Maursame, 'And now to blow up the earth for no reason' Sephiroth?"
"-the angel that chose you for this, chose you for that very reason, I belive. He chose you because he belived you would come to little harm, if any."
"Proved his ass wrong."
"Yes and no. You were harmed, but you were not killed, and, in fact, were not harmed by your opponent."
"Yes I was, he was going to leave me to die-"
"While that may be true, it is very easy not to see it that way. You live, do you not?"
Devon kicked the bed in front of him. "Fuck me."
"My sincerest apologies, but I am incapable." Devon stared at Boldero for a moment before she said, "I can make a funny, too."
"So what do I do now?"
"Wait. There is little more you can do. You have a weapon now, as well."
Devon looked to the small table next to his bed, on top of which was a massive revolver. He hadn't touched it since he had gotten here. "I'm not going to shoot anybody..."
"I know you will not want to hear this, but you will likely not be so lucky again. There are not only killers in this competitin, but monsters that can and will tear you to pieces. Reason will not avail you in this competition."
"Fine, fine; I'll take it with me, if this Sephiroth guy lets me."
"I do not belive he has any control over when you leave, or where you go."
Devon sighed, breath hissing through his teeth. "I don't like this."
"I imagine you do not."
"You said...You said that the guy in the seat, the last guy, he was killed, right?"
"I did."
"You think Sephiroth did it?"
Boldero shook her head. "No, I do not."
Devon sat back down on the bed. "Can you lie?"
"I would say no..." Boldero replied, standing. "But would you belive me?"
Devon didn't reply.
Devon is importiant to existence. I know you're asking, "But Loggy, how?" and I'll explain, hopefully in Fall of The Guardians Part Six, An Aside; Those That Watch The Watchmen. I'll have to warn you, though, it's a lot of metaphysichal gobledy-gook, so (a) certain individual(s) might not like it (you know who you are, you tosser(s)).
I'm thinking the Fall of The Peacekeepers is going to go through eight parts. To avoid any unessecary confusion, no, they aren't written in the order they take place. If it helps, I'll write the order they take place in after I'm done with them.
Apologies for taking so long. Restricted internet acess and all.
I'm thinking the Fall of The Peacekeepers is going to go through eight parts. To avoid any unessecary confusion, no, they aren't written in the order they take place. If it helps, I'll write the order they take place in after I'm done with them.
Apologies for taking so long. Restricted internet acess and all.
I'm sorry to bring this up, but there was actually a perfectly valid reason that I've been 'bitching for my round to come'. I've got about 11 days until I'm going to be forbidden from any source of internet (And generally any happiness as well) For a 3 and a half month period.
I could try to get more time, but A) I'm not going to put my future on hold for a writing contest and B) The US military will likely have issues with me changing my leaving date.
Just to keep everybody informed...
I could try to get more time, but A) I'm not going to put my future on hold for a writing contest and B) The US military will likely have issues with me changing my leaving date.
Just to keep everybody informed...
Guys, the deadline is five days.
It's been eight.
It would be a triple forfeit if I enforced it, so I won't. You have until Monday.
Guys, if you need more time, TALK TO ME IN ADVANCE, PLEASE.
It's been eight.
It would be a triple forfeit if I enforced it, so I won't. You have until Monday.
Guys, if you need more time, TALK TO ME IN ADVANCE, PLEASE.
Also, for readers/judges: Its not required, but it really helps if you read this [http://www.escapistmagazine.com/forums/jump/362.107952.2342589] and this [http://www.escapistmagazine.com/forums/jump/362.107952.2386150] beforehand.
EDITED FOR GRAMMAR! Now with caps!
I'd like to pull the wires from the wall-
------------------------------------------------
"No."
Henry stood up. Ephemeral grey stretched in every direction. It was the beach. The beach of the island resort. It was the beach, but it was wrong.
"I didn't hurt them. I didn't mean to."
The voices tried to tear at him, to take him down. But he knew they were false. They were not real voices. He had no control of this condition. He could not be held accountable.
Surely I can't be held accountable?
"Ya here, where are ya?" It was a whisper, but luckily for the entropical challenger, volume didn't matter to this whisperer.
It was initially a soft beat, the recurring basline swapped and switched, paused and sampled. Lullabies, sung over his crib, fragments from the radio of his dads car, his first cassette when God knows (and he could check with the big fella if he survived the battle) how old: The Offspring. Ixnay on the Hombre
And it feels
And it feels like
Heaven's so far away
And it stings
Yeah it stings now
The world is so cold
Now that you've gone away
Gone away, gone away
The teenage years, rebellious punk:
Your life's gotta really suck
You gotta hustle all day just to make a bucks
To get high enough to forget about what you've become
The all, the all of it. The variety the snippets, the snatches.
"Aye mon, you know what I is talkin' bout."
There was no body, there didn't need to be a body.
The beach had gone. Replaces by space. Empty space. He couldn't see, couldn't smell. But he could hear. Oh he could hear.
The watch, I gotta check the watch!
The voices had gone. The kid, the one in the car accident. He hoped it hadn't been real. He was sure the DJ was masking the real voices. The music let him mask everything. He was sure there was no real voices. But doubt niggled at his mind.
"Why the doubt mon? Why let it niggle? So maybe da voices ain't be real, but you still gotta say you gotta crap lot in life,"
The factory mass producing fear,
bottled, capped, distributed near and far,
sold for a reasonable price
the people they love it they feed it,
brush with it, bath with it, breed it,
inject it into the blood,
it seems to be replacing love.
"Ya hear? Ya hear what I is sayin'. I know ya do, I know tru da music ya listen to. I know it 'fects you. I do 'way with all that. We ain't enemies mon, we ain't never been enemies. You let me win, I become king high boss man and get da whole planet grooving to a laid back beat?
Oh come on mon, don't make me."
A club. The end of school formal had taken place in a remarkably similar venue. In fact, his classmates and their dates slowly flowed into vision. Crystallized, stuck in the rhapsody. Derek pirouetted, eternally frozen with Monica, the music they had spun to blaring out from unseen speakers. The music. The music. The DJ
A friends a friend who knows what being a friend
is talking with a friend,
as friends we were always so close but so,
far away,
friends in life are special,
do you want me as your special friend?
Cause you're the friend that I've been searchin' for
"I bin wathcin out for you, you take your cues from music, I been seein' you through the beat. You know it ain't it right, you know that mon. Da music tells you dat mon. You maybe beat me, but you beat the bad guys? Eh? You beat the real bad guys? No, you don't. And they change the tune mon, They make it bad music. They make it angry beat. They make it hate chorus. You beat dem? You kiddin. But you good mon. De lyrics tell me you good mon deep down. I beat them mon, I beat them and I make it better. I fix it all mon. You just give in, let the music wash over you mon, it cleanses an' it sweeps you clean. You be better, I be better, the world be better, mon.
Don't hog ya solo cause o' pride mon."
If he could reach the watch, he might have a-
Might have a what? Might tell whether luck is gonna be on your side today? Might interpret the entropy? Face it Henry, it isn't something you control. But this DJ, he controls everything. Everything, and he could win. He could do it. Hell, listen to him through the lyrics. He's right, what better way to soothe the world than with music?
Revolution. Dope. Guns. Fucking in the streets.
"No."
"Aye, you let your greed sing for you? You wanna win? You know worse than dem mon,"
Cut the deck,
Queens left for dead,
soft and wet scarf tied to the bed,
Jack is all tragic when he stands alone
feeling demonic, harmonic and in a no-go zone.
The frozen figures were still there. Will and Jonno posing in a mock tango for a crowd who roared with still laughter.
"Mon, you makin' de silly mistake. You tink you know what choo doin'? You makin de silly mistake cause it don't matter. You tink you gotta chance 'gainst me?" The echo, and it was an echo without an original sounded looped, distorted. The students had vanished.
A hall. An empty hall. The faint ringing all thats there.
"You think you have it all. But your an idiot. You change. You change with time. You try and keep current. You think your immune to luck? You think you're universal?
Maybe you are. But you change. And whatever you were, whatever lullabies you sung doesn't matter. Because you don't sing anymore.
You panel. You spin tracks."
The lights across the dance floor flickered. Then the dance floor itself flickered.
"You see it now don't you? You've become reliant on that stuff."
If they say that nothing lasts forever,
then what makes love the exception?
And I'm sure, I am sure....
"You have no power without it anymore. Its not just symbolic, maybe once it was. So you try to bluff me with those souls. Because, and heres the irony, because you forget something very important."
The echo of the sound paused.
"I wandered, I'd heard you were meant to influence with music. But you've only been using words on me. Is it perhaps, because you forgot something.
The floor flickered. White space. White space. White space and nothing. The sound. The sound but distorted. The sound but dying.
"and you trick me. Because you trick me now I know I shouldn't let you win. You won't fix things, because you like chaos. You deceive, you lie, you cheat. You create. And you usually do it in that order. Its how you work.
Without chaos, half of your inspiration is gone.
Well I am chaos. I am chaos and I know you can't hurt me.
And I also know you can't hurt me, because I've got what you need"
Henry, by freak chance at that moment, materialized a power lead in his hands. It was unplugged.
"Yes, and you aren't getting it. For the record, your acoustic work is terrible.
So piss off."
No voice. No reply. No nothing. It was possible it had gone. Could you vanquish the DJ? Could you kill it? Who knew. From shame? From humiliation? Intimidation? Damage? Did the power lead trick actually work?
It went. It went. It went and the songs no longer shaped him.
Henry dropped to what approximated for the floor, and began to feel welcome transformation of the surroundings into the waiting room. He didn't usually consider himself a confrontational person, and now knew why. He was exhausted.
Bollocks. Now I gotta fight someone else.
------------------------------------------------
-did you?
Oh. Shit. I was under the impression it was a 10 day deadline...The Sorrow said:
My plan is still to have it done by Sunday. I'm deeply sorry for delaying.
I forfiet.
I'm deeply sorry to everyone and most especially my opponent meatspace but I cannot bring myself to write for my character. I don't like Lex. Early in the tournament I thought that that was mostly the point of my character, he was a bad guy after all, and that in time I'd learn to write for him anyway. Recently this has been proven to be not the case.
I thought, for the better part of two weeks and before that when I was writing Lex's intro, that I was suffering from writer's block. I'd get to my computer and loose all motivation and focus. The thing I've realized recently however is that I'm still perfectly capable of writing for extended periods of time, just not when I'm writing for Lex or even thinking about Lex. Subconciously I avoid writing his stories. I'll sit at my computer and suddenly remember I have laundry to do, or a really bad desire to go swimming. Subconciously, I find excuses to avoid writing Lex and if that's the case I can't reliably participate in this tournament.
I'm in three other RP's and my performance in them is suffering because of my preoccupation (and subsequent inability) to write for Lex. All these factors combined, the best thing I can think to do is call a forfieture. I'll probably still hang around, and if there is an RW4 I'll be back with a character I can actually tolerate to try and win my third tournament, but for now I'm out. I apologize to everyone.
For anyone who cares, I've put a plot summary of Lex's fight in the following spoiler box. I had it all imagined out, I just couldn't put it on paper. Please don't consider this an entry, Lex is out of the tournament.
I'm deeply sorry to everyone and most especially my opponent meatspace but I cannot bring myself to write for my character. I don't like Lex. Early in the tournament I thought that that was mostly the point of my character, he was a bad guy after all, and that in time I'd learn to write for him anyway. Recently this has been proven to be not the case.
I thought, for the better part of two weeks and before that when I was writing Lex's intro, that I was suffering from writer's block. I'd get to my computer and loose all motivation and focus. The thing I've realized recently however is that I'm still perfectly capable of writing for extended periods of time, just not when I'm writing for Lex or even thinking about Lex. Subconciously I avoid writing his stories. I'll sit at my computer and suddenly remember I have laundry to do, or a really bad desire to go swimming. Subconciously, I find excuses to avoid writing Lex and if that's the case I can't reliably participate in this tournament.
I'm in three other RP's and my performance in them is suffering because of my preoccupation (and subsequent inability) to write for Lex. All these factors combined, the best thing I can think to do is call a forfieture. I'll probably still hang around, and if there is an RW4 I'll be back with a character I can actually tolerate to try and win my third tournament, but for now I'm out. I apologize to everyone.
For anyone who cares, I've put a plot summary of Lex's fight in the following spoiler box. I had it all imagined out, I just couldn't put it on paper. Please don't consider this an entry, Lex is out of the tournament.
Lex appears on a rocky beach. A voice from up the slope tells him where he is. He finds the voice vaguely familiar and pulls a knife while walking up the beach. The voice confirms that he knows Lex, Lex desides there's no longer any point in being coy and rushes the voice.
Lex is surprised to see Baron Samedi at the top of the hill (the Loa of death). It is alluded to that the pair have some history together and are antagonistic toward each other. It is explained that Lex is physically unable to harm Samedi and, because Lex has the devil's favor, Samedi is not allowed to kill Lex. Samedi makes it clear that, even though he isn't permitted to kill Lex, he intends to follow him and undermine his efforts. The rationale behind this is that if Lex wins the tournament he will surely kill/torture/enslave Baron Samedi and likely the entire Ghede Loa Nanchon (all Loa of death and fertility).
Perspective change. Farfig and Mark appear on a boat. The boat sinks three feet into the water due to their extra weight. Farfig uses this to deduce that they ship they are on wouldn't meet the standards of his home planet and he is, therefore, not on his home planet. The soldiers on the ship begin to shoot at Mark and Farfig. Farfig gains cover behind Mark and Mark steps on them.
Perspective change. Lex and Samedi enter one of the barracks. They encounter a soldier in the prosess of purchasing a French prostitute. Lex askes the soldier where his commander is, the soldier tells him to fuck off. The soldier asks the prostitue how much it is to get inside her. Lex cuts into her stomach pulls out her intestines and says "Here are here insides". The prostitute stands up, wrests her organs from Lex and flee's the room. An alarm goes off. Lex indicates to the soldier he should respond to the alarm. The soldier takes the opportunity to flee.
Lex begins to walk upstairs, postulating that that is where the soldiers will be. He suspects they will be shooting guns and explains his distaste for the weapons. He says that killing people is actually very easy but if you aren't close enough to see the expression of fear fade to nothing in your victim's eyes, you tend to over dramatize the issue and create unrealistic nightmares that will make it more difficult for you to kill in the future. Baron Samedi disagrees. They pass over the body of the hooker collapsed in the hallway in a puddle of her own blood. Lex describes the scene as "forgettable".
Lex and Samedi are on the roof. They see Farfig and Mark on the beach, being shot at by both Nazis and Alied forces. Lex marvels at Farfig's prowess, noting that "There is a man who knows how to kill. He don't do it solemnly. He just does it." Lex is less enthused by Mark however, who he sees trying to cast fire balls. He notes that he's holding something very dear to him in his left hand (the wizard he killed, whose personality he tries to emulate) because Mark blocks shots aimed at the black cloak as carefully as he blocks shots aimed at himself.
Lex orders the soldiers to stop shooting and to charge the pair. They ignore him. Lex demands to see whoever is command. A nazi stands up from among the crowd and confirms that he is in command and only he gives orders. Lex breaks his ribcage and severs his windpipe at the top of the lungs. He pulls out the windpipe and holds it aloft, asking "Who is second in command?"
Perspective change. Farfig notices that the amount of bullets shot at him decreased and turns to see a brigade of Nazis storming his position. He looks to where they were at the top of the barracks and sees Lex. He notes that the man does not look like an idiot and thus must know that he was in effect condemning his soldiers to death by putting them so close to Mark and himself. He remarks that there is a coldness about Lex that reminds him of himself, a disregard of life he thought he was unique for. He sees Samedi and wonders what the man is capable of and why he was brought by his opponent. At that moment Samedi pushes Lex off the barracks and into the sand below.
Farfig and Mark advance on Lex's position. Farfig notes that Lex has chosen a poor ally. Lex responds that he and Samedi are enemies and that Mark was a poor choice for servant. Farfig is confused and says that Mark is incredably powerful and loyal. Lex says that Mark's constitution is weak that he was incapable of true loyalt because he still suffers from individual vices. Lex comments that Farfig would do best to beat it out of him. This surprises farfig but he disregards it.
The pair sort of like each other and share a professional respect for one another. Nonetheless, it is noted that they are supposed to fight and so Lex pulls out a long thick knife with a saw blade on one end and Farfig reloads his gun and tells Mark to make sure no one interrupts.
The pair fight, Farfig has slim upper hand but it is a relatively equal fight. He notes that Lex seems distracted. The pair circle each other, when they have traded positions Lex runs away. Farfig is stunned to see Lex retreat a fight, until he sees that Lex is in fact running toward Mark, who has his back turned on the pair. Farfig rushes after lex.
Perspective change. Lex reaches Mark and saws through his achillies tendon, essentially rendering his foot useless and causing Mark to fall over. Lex climbs on top of the giant, pulls some herbs from his coat, spears them with his knife and stabs it into the wrist of Mark's left hand. He explains that the herbs are a muscle relaxant and soon he will be forced to let go of the cape and the skeleton. The cape tries to bite into Lex, Lex jumps off Mark.
Perspective change. This is from Mark's perspective. Very simple english is use to convey sadness and the feeling of dread as a warmth spreads up his arm and into his hand. He describes his fingers as going numb and see's the cape trying to wrest itself from his grip. He see's Farfig and Lex fighting and wonders if his master will think to help him. He concludes that Farfig will not. His hand is almost completely open now and he sees the skeleton slipping out of his palm. He asks if he will loose himself, forget who he is once the skeleton is gone. He expresses fear of returning to the mindless state he used to be in. He watches as the skeleton falls to the ground and shatters from old age. He doesn't cry.
Perspective change. Lex see's the skeleton fall from over Farfig's shoulder and see's the cape begin to flutter. It charges Farfig from behind and pushes him to the ground, mauling him in much the same way an animal would. Lex back off. Farfig manages to stand up at a few moments but he's covered in his own blood and the shots he takes at the cape don't seem to hurt it. His final words are "Please. I have to die at war ... Oh. Right". When Farfig is dead the cape changes from black to radiant white and seems to fade away.
Samedi strolls over and notes that Lex is a bastard. Lex says it was Farfig's own fault for allowing weakness in his servant. Samedi says that a sense of individuality isn't a weakness. Lex says that it is, it distracts from matters such as fealty and faith and allows for truely ignorant behavior. There is something like an explosion next to them. They turn to see that Mark has executed himself with the giant gun he wields. A portal appears beside the pair and Lex walks into it.
Lex is surprised to see Baron Samedi at the top of the hill (the Loa of death). It is alluded to that the pair have some history together and are antagonistic toward each other. It is explained that Lex is physically unable to harm Samedi and, because Lex has the devil's favor, Samedi is not allowed to kill Lex. Samedi makes it clear that, even though he isn't permitted to kill Lex, he intends to follow him and undermine his efforts. The rationale behind this is that if Lex wins the tournament he will surely kill/torture/enslave Baron Samedi and likely the entire Ghede Loa Nanchon (all Loa of death and fertility).
Perspective change. Farfig and Mark appear on a boat. The boat sinks three feet into the water due to their extra weight. Farfig uses this to deduce that they ship they are on wouldn't meet the standards of his home planet and he is, therefore, not on his home planet. The soldiers on the ship begin to shoot at Mark and Farfig. Farfig gains cover behind Mark and Mark steps on them.
Perspective change. Lex and Samedi enter one of the barracks. They encounter a soldier in the prosess of purchasing a French prostitute. Lex askes the soldier where his commander is, the soldier tells him to fuck off. The soldier asks the prostitue how much it is to get inside her. Lex cuts into her stomach pulls out her intestines and says "Here are here insides". The prostitute stands up, wrests her organs from Lex and flee's the room. An alarm goes off. Lex indicates to the soldier he should respond to the alarm. The soldier takes the opportunity to flee.
Lex begins to walk upstairs, postulating that that is where the soldiers will be. He suspects they will be shooting guns and explains his distaste for the weapons. He says that killing people is actually very easy but if you aren't close enough to see the expression of fear fade to nothing in your victim's eyes, you tend to over dramatize the issue and create unrealistic nightmares that will make it more difficult for you to kill in the future. Baron Samedi disagrees. They pass over the body of the hooker collapsed in the hallway in a puddle of her own blood. Lex describes the scene as "forgettable".
Lex and Samedi are on the roof. They see Farfig and Mark on the beach, being shot at by both Nazis and Alied forces. Lex marvels at Farfig's prowess, noting that "There is a man who knows how to kill. He don't do it solemnly. He just does it." Lex is less enthused by Mark however, who he sees trying to cast fire balls. He notes that he's holding something very dear to him in his left hand (the wizard he killed, whose personality he tries to emulate) because Mark blocks shots aimed at the black cloak as carefully as he blocks shots aimed at himself.
Lex orders the soldiers to stop shooting and to charge the pair. They ignore him. Lex demands to see whoever is command. A nazi stands up from among the crowd and confirms that he is in command and only he gives orders. Lex breaks his ribcage and severs his windpipe at the top of the lungs. He pulls out the windpipe and holds it aloft, asking "Who is second in command?"
Perspective change. Farfig notices that the amount of bullets shot at him decreased and turns to see a brigade of Nazis storming his position. He looks to where they were at the top of the barracks and sees Lex. He notes that the man does not look like an idiot and thus must know that he was in effect condemning his soldiers to death by putting them so close to Mark and himself. He remarks that there is a coldness about Lex that reminds him of himself, a disregard of life he thought he was unique for. He sees Samedi and wonders what the man is capable of and why he was brought by his opponent. At that moment Samedi pushes Lex off the barracks and into the sand below.
Farfig and Mark advance on Lex's position. Farfig notes that Lex has chosen a poor ally. Lex responds that he and Samedi are enemies and that Mark was a poor choice for servant. Farfig is confused and says that Mark is incredably powerful and loyal. Lex says that Mark's constitution is weak that he was incapable of true loyalt because he still suffers from individual vices. Lex comments that Farfig would do best to beat it out of him. This surprises farfig but he disregards it.
The pair sort of like each other and share a professional respect for one another. Nonetheless, it is noted that they are supposed to fight and so Lex pulls out a long thick knife with a saw blade on one end and Farfig reloads his gun and tells Mark to make sure no one interrupts.
The pair fight, Farfig has slim upper hand but it is a relatively equal fight. He notes that Lex seems distracted. The pair circle each other, when they have traded positions Lex runs away. Farfig is stunned to see Lex retreat a fight, until he sees that Lex is in fact running toward Mark, who has his back turned on the pair. Farfig rushes after lex.
Perspective change. Lex reaches Mark and saws through his achillies tendon, essentially rendering his foot useless and causing Mark to fall over. Lex climbs on top of the giant, pulls some herbs from his coat, spears them with his knife and stabs it into the wrist of Mark's left hand. He explains that the herbs are a muscle relaxant and soon he will be forced to let go of the cape and the skeleton. The cape tries to bite into Lex, Lex jumps off Mark.
Perspective change. This is from Mark's perspective. Very simple english is use to convey sadness and the feeling of dread as a warmth spreads up his arm and into his hand. He describes his fingers as going numb and see's the cape trying to wrest itself from his grip. He see's Farfig and Lex fighting and wonders if his master will think to help him. He concludes that Farfig will not. His hand is almost completely open now and he sees the skeleton slipping out of his palm. He asks if he will loose himself, forget who he is once the skeleton is gone. He expresses fear of returning to the mindless state he used to be in. He watches as the skeleton falls to the ground and shatters from old age. He doesn't cry.
Perspective change. Lex see's the skeleton fall from over Farfig's shoulder and see's the cape begin to flutter. It charges Farfig from behind and pushes him to the ground, mauling him in much the same way an animal would. Lex back off. Farfig manages to stand up at a few moments but he's covered in his own blood and the shots he takes at the cape don't seem to hurt it. His final words are "Please. I have to die at war ... Oh. Right". When Farfig is dead the cape changes from black to radiant white and seems to fade away.
Samedi strolls over and notes that Lex is a bastard. Lex says it was Farfig's own fault for allowing weakness in his servant. Samedi says that a sense of individuality isn't a weakness. Lex says that it is, it distracts from matters such as fealty and faith and allows for truely ignorant behavior. There is something like an explosion next to them. They turn to see that Mark has executed himself with the giant gun he wields. A portal appears beside the pair and Lex walks into it.
My apologies. It's very strange, I've been checking this thread and yet somehow missed all the posts that came after the The Logician's until just now. I am actually in the middle of moving today (and probably tomorrow too) so I will have to get to this later on tonight.
CONTACT IMPROV - Solo Piece for Piano, Transcribed for Duet for Human Percussion
There a Frenchman once said, "Hell is other people." He been to this place I think. This place Karma, this Hell to some way o' thinkin', this crowd, gray, faceless, millin' about. Hell is the place o' payback, Karma is you gettin' another chance to do right what you done wrong last time. People come here and they hearts break, they despair that they coulda wronged so many, that they could owe so much. They thought they live a righteous life, never did no knowin harm to any they met, so they don' unnerstand this vast atonement demanded o' them. They expect the crowd t'attack, but it just wander about, lost 'n' sad, an' they don' unnerstand that either. It never occur to them that they looking at sins of ommission, that this judgement called on them for all they never done.
This one here, now, this Henry, this how I find him in the crowd, by his confusion an' guilt an' fear. He got a heap o' things to atone for, he knows, but he knows it wrong. He got a gift but he fear it, and the fear of the gift make it a fearful gift. He lookin' round, waitin' t'be recognize an' punish by the crowd, but the crowd don't know him from the flow o' daily chance. There only one here who know what he done, what he ain't done. There only one here lookin' for payback. That one ain't me, by th'way. That one comin', I jus' gotta hold Henry here long enough for the other to find him and hold him t'account.
He young, wavy brown hair, taller'n average but he keep his head and eye low, a long habit of avoidin' catastrophe an' eye contact. He see me seein' him an' recoil, until he realize I ain't one of his victims. Not yet. He don't even notice his hand slippin' to the pocketwatch, but I do.
"You the other one?" he ask. I nod. He look at me, tryin'a figure me out. I don't look dangerous. I'm not. He don't know that. I smile and that scare him. I'm not a bad man and he was afraid o' that. He ain't surprise, though. He's come to expect the worst. I come to teach him not to expect the worst, but to welcome it. I approach him and hold out my hand, but he don't take it. Instead he look at his watch and frown.
"That watch make you frown, you should get a different watch," I tell him.
"And you should get out of here."
"Really? Why?"
"Because it's running slow, and that's a bad sign."
"Are you sure it's a bad sign?" He surprise I ask him that, surprise and a liddle irritated.
"Trust me on this," he say.
"Why should I trust you when you don' trust yourself?"
"What?" Now he a liddle confuse and more than a liddle irritated.
"That ain't a watch you got there, that a shackle, friend. You in a prison what ticks." I hold out my hand an' he step back. "Why don't you take the chains off, boy? Give up th' watch. I'll take it for ya, carry the weight of th' curse for a time?"
He look at the watch again, "I'm warning you, mister, you better get out of here. This watch is getting farther and farther behind. You might not know what that means, but I do and it's not good."
"How far behind is it?"
"Four minutes and--"
"--thirty three seconds?"
He look at the watch again. "How did you--?"
"You right, it ain't good," I tell him, "it's perfect [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/4%E2%80%B233%E2%80%B3]."
Don't you see Ratings War? You can't die.... you can't... because... I love you.
Some excellent stories, and not a whiff of recognition? And Rex leaves? And my dog gets heartburn from a heartworm tablet? What kind of dystopian nightmare is this!? I feel like I crawled out of bed to find, instead of my carpet, the underside of the ballroom floor from the set of Titanic, only instead of that it was also alive and singing Grindcore. In short, I did a crap down the rabbit hole only to find it in my sandwich later, what is going on?
I'm lost, later tonight i'll be making a list for myself of who is still playing and what colour underpants they wear, to try and get a hold on things and make my hypothetical artists-impression voyeurism more accurate.
Some excellent stories, and not a whiff of recognition? And Rex leaves? And my dog gets heartburn from a heartworm tablet? What kind of dystopian nightmare is this!? I feel like I crawled out of bed to find, instead of my carpet, the underside of the ballroom floor from the set of Titanic, only instead of that it was also alive and singing Grindcore. In short, I did a crap down the rabbit hole only to find it in my sandwich later, what is going on?
I'm lost, later tonight i'll be making a list for myself of who is still playing and what colour underpants they wear, to try and get a hold on things and make my hypothetical artists-impression voyeurism more accurate.
Msh, how do you always work out my characters (almost) to a T? Are you actually a mind reader? Or is it just really obvious.
And bad luck Rex, you'll be missed.
Its a pity cause that outline looked half decent. I reckon with just a bit of your usual magic you could have produced a good rival for Meatspace's piece.
And bad luck Rex, you'll be missed.
Its a pity cause that outline looked half decent. I reckon with just a bit of your usual magic you could have produced a good rival for Meatspace's piece.