Here I intend on putting all the short stories I come up with, and some may even be extended. All comments, ideas, and mild criticism is accepted and appreciated. If you can think of something that might put an interesting twist on any of these stories, or if you can see something that is out of place in them, or anything of the like, feel free to comment.
Unfortunately, I'm not going to start right now.
Short stories by the Magekind
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Short stories by the Magekind
Take it like you gave it; what else matters in the end? To be honest, it's all a one-shot test; that leaves plenty of places to go wrong, but how will you ever know? There's a pointer, I will admit. Turn it on, listen to it, feel it burn.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
- Magekind
- Posts: 292
- Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2004 6:55 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere between here and reality. Help?
Nafa-Talamh
The Liberation
The Liberation
Brandan had always been big. At seventeen, he towered easily over most of those around him. Not that there were many people around him He lived with a small group of people known as the free men in a leg of woods just south of where modern-day Michigan exists. As with most of those around him, he sported a dark, unruly mop of hair, a deep-set face, and dark blue eyes. He was, of course, a very friendly fellow, if you could get him to talk. He never went out of his way to make friends with anyone, nor did he to make enemies. In his mind was only one goal: Revenge for the death of his father and mother.
Take it like you gave it; what else matters in the end? To be honest, it's all a one-shot test; that leaves plenty of places to go wrong, but how will you ever know? There's a pointer, I will admit. Turn it on, listen to it, feel it burn.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
- Magekind
- Posts: 292
- Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2004 6:55 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere between here and reality. Help?
(Nafa-Talamh introduction)
Nearing the end of the twenty-third century, man's most useless and violent war came to an end. The war that was started by the oversight of one nation, in an aggressive act of vengeance, has desolated most every civilized nation. And even though the war has officially ended, with the destruction of most civilization from the North American Continent, still, all across the globe, smaller wars wage on.
At first, North America was thought to be dead. Devoid of any humans. However, such assumptions were wrong. Near the end of the war, a group of warriors from the Eastern coast, calling themselves Ronin, gathered arms in defense of their country. Even though the army of this continent was laid waste, this small group of fighters survived, and with them, roughly one-thousand-four-hundred able-bodied civilians.
They built factories during this war, some hidden, some more overtly placed. All functional weapons manufacturing facilities. As the war wore on, an end was foreseen, and freedom was promised to the growing numbers of those who were not able to take up arms, a time of relaxation and happiness. Then, something changed.
In the minds of the people, even though the fighting and alarms stopped, the war waged on. Still their hands and what little machinery they had managed to scavenge produced weapons, which, unbeknownst to them, was sold to other countries for profit. This continued for three-hundred years, Ronin growing into the largest and most trusted weapons manufacturer in the world.
However, all life had not been wiped off the continent. Outside of Ronin, some few survivors still clung to the bare necessities, subsisting on dead, scorched land until forests regrew, which they inevitably did. These were the free-people.
And yet, the free-people were not safe from this terror. Expansion forced the Ronin to create new factories, and in so doing, they discovered this free-people. Not wanting to have other nations spring up on what was now their land, they took to enslaving them, using them as cheap, expendable labor.
This was not tolerated by all. A few small groups have broken away from Ronin, children and relatives of enslaved free-people coming to redeem their heritage. This is the story of the fate of one such group...
Nearing the end of the twenty-third century, man's most useless and violent war came to an end. The war that was started by the oversight of one nation, in an aggressive act of vengeance, has desolated most every civilized nation. And even though the war has officially ended, with the destruction of most civilization from the North American Continent, still, all across the globe, smaller wars wage on.
At first, North America was thought to be dead. Devoid of any humans. However, such assumptions were wrong. Near the end of the war, a group of warriors from the Eastern coast, calling themselves Ronin, gathered arms in defense of their country. Even though the army of this continent was laid waste, this small group of fighters survived, and with them, roughly one-thousand-four-hundred able-bodied civilians.
They built factories during this war, some hidden, some more overtly placed. All functional weapons manufacturing facilities. As the war wore on, an end was foreseen, and freedom was promised to the growing numbers of those who were not able to take up arms, a time of relaxation and happiness. Then, something changed.
In the minds of the people, even though the fighting and alarms stopped, the war waged on. Still their hands and what little machinery they had managed to scavenge produced weapons, which, unbeknownst to them, was sold to other countries for profit. This continued for three-hundred years, Ronin growing into the largest and most trusted weapons manufacturer in the world.
However, all life had not been wiped off the continent. Outside of Ronin, some few survivors still clung to the bare necessities, subsisting on dead, scorched land until forests regrew, which they inevitably did. These were the free-people.
And yet, the free-people were not safe from this terror. Expansion forced the Ronin to create new factories, and in so doing, they discovered this free-people. Not wanting to have other nations spring up on what was now their land, they took to enslaving them, using them as cheap, expendable labor.
This was not tolerated by all. A few small groups have broken away from Ronin, children and relatives of enslaved free-people coming to redeem their heritage. This is the story of the fate of one such group...
Take it like you gave it; what else matters in the end? To be honest, it's all a one-shot test; that leaves plenty of places to go wrong, but how will you ever know? There's a pointer, I will admit. Turn it on, listen to it, feel it burn.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
- Magekind
- Posts: 292
- Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2004 6:55 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere between here and reality. Help?
(Nafa-Talamh: The Liberation cont'd)
Brandan's father was part of a tribe of free men that lived almost due east of his own home. As Ronin spread, it conquered. For a while, his father had his nights to himself, and he used them as much as he could. His mother had relatives in the area where he now lived, but she had left them for the eastern tribe, where the two of them met. They had been together for some time before the Ronin expanded again, and all of his spare time had disappeared. Desperate to be with his wife, he would often sneak out of his work area when he thought no one was watching. Soon, however, the Ronin officers over him detected it, and set up a trap.
They waited until he had left one night, and was with hs wife, not wanting to tell her that she should not be here, but knowing it was so. Their child was safely with relatives to the west, where he felt she should have been at the time. His fears were confirmed when a Ronin soldier gave a shout, and suddenly there were lights everywhere. Brandan's father was gunned down, and his mother killed also.
Learning of this, Brandan's mind has been filled with little but a cold hatred toward those who would do such a thing.
However, as distant as he may have been, Brandan did have friends. Or friend, rather.
Kalen wasn't as big as Brandan, nor as determined to reach any particular goal in life. He too had deep-set features, but nothing nearly so dark as Brandan, and his face seemed to shine with a kind of youthful innocence - or maybe it was his guile. His eyes were a bright blue, a fitting complement to the bright red hair atop his head, and flowing a bit down the back. Whereas Brandan's hide was thick, slightly scarred, Kalen sported no scars, his looks in general proving the fact that he was younger than Brandan by roughly two years.
Their minds ran in almost similarly different circles. Kalen often led them to the local public houses, where he would engage in a few drinks to loosen his mind and body, and then set to work on his numerous social experiments. At any given time, Kalen would be taking on a conversation with some local miss, roughly his age or whereabouts, at times even the two waitresses, daughters of the keeper of the place, would engage in almost-heated arguments over his attention. The thought had once briefly crossed Brandan's mind as to who was truly playing with whose mind, whether Kalen truly had them in dispute over his attention, or whether they were laughing about the entire ordeal when he wasn't there. He never spent much time on this thought, though.
That thought, or any other. Today, news of a nearby Ronin base deciding to expand its borders had reached his ears. Of course, the base had obviously been in existence for some time, and had been "hiring" free men for some time, as well. Now they would grow, and more formerly free people would inevitably be dragged into their hierarchy, tossed in with the rest of the dross that made the floor for the big Ronin officers to walk on.
Brandan turned to Kalen now, who had just seen off some young lass in a fit of giggles, and said aloud, "Do you think we could do something?"
Brandan's father was part of a tribe of free men that lived almost due east of his own home. As Ronin spread, it conquered. For a while, his father had his nights to himself, and he used them as much as he could. His mother had relatives in the area where he now lived, but she had left them for the eastern tribe, where the two of them met. They had been together for some time before the Ronin expanded again, and all of his spare time had disappeared. Desperate to be with his wife, he would often sneak out of his work area when he thought no one was watching. Soon, however, the Ronin officers over him detected it, and set up a trap.
They waited until he had left one night, and was with hs wife, not wanting to tell her that she should not be here, but knowing it was so. Their child was safely with relatives to the west, where he felt she should have been at the time. His fears were confirmed when a Ronin soldier gave a shout, and suddenly there were lights everywhere. Brandan's father was gunned down, and his mother killed also.
Learning of this, Brandan's mind has been filled with little but a cold hatred toward those who would do such a thing.
However, as distant as he may have been, Brandan did have friends. Or friend, rather.
Kalen wasn't as big as Brandan, nor as determined to reach any particular goal in life. He too had deep-set features, but nothing nearly so dark as Brandan, and his face seemed to shine with a kind of youthful innocence - or maybe it was his guile. His eyes were a bright blue, a fitting complement to the bright red hair atop his head, and flowing a bit down the back. Whereas Brandan's hide was thick, slightly scarred, Kalen sported no scars, his looks in general proving the fact that he was younger than Brandan by roughly two years.
Their minds ran in almost similarly different circles. Kalen often led them to the local public houses, where he would engage in a few drinks to loosen his mind and body, and then set to work on his numerous social experiments. At any given time, Kalen would be taking on a conversation with some local miss, roughly his age or whereabouts, at times even the two waitresses, daughters of the keeper of the place, would engage in almost-heated arguments over his attention. The thought had once briefly crossed Brandan's mind as to who was truly playing with whose mind, whether Kalen truly had them in dispute over his attention, or whether they were laughing about the entire ordeal when he wasn't there. He never spent much time on this thought, though.
That thought, or any other. Today, news of a nearby Ronin base deciding to expand its borders had reached his ears. Of course, the base had obviously been in existence for some time, and had been "hiring" free men for some time, as well. Now they would grow, and more formerly free people would inevitably be dragged into their hierarchy, tossed in with the rest of the dross that made the floor for the big Ronin officers to walk on.
Brandan turned to Kalen now, who had just seen off some young lass in a fit of giggles, and said aloud, "Do you think we could do something?"
Take it like you gave it; what else matters in the end? To be honest, it's all a one-shot test; that leaves plenty of places to go wrong, but how will you ever know? There's a pointer, I will admit. Turn it on, listen to it, feel it burn.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
- Magekind
- Posts: 292
- Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2004 6:55 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere between here and reality. Help?
And some ideas from my journal:
Guardians
As life evolves, so does the power it possesses. Mankind is the primary sentient species of the galaxy, in all his various forms.
A lone craft hastily makes its way past the gray satellite, moving directly toward the unsuspecting blue orb. This planet has long been known for its ability to support life, yet apparent lack thereof. No better place to hide.
The craft turned a bright orange as it bounced a few times off the atmosphere, and then began a tight turn and descended slowly. Once below the atmosphere, it headed almost directly to the surface, submerging under the water as it sped toward the nearest land mass. Soon, land arose from the water, and in a very short time, buildings appeared on the land. The craft shied away from the lights of a city, and touched down in the suburbs. Actually, touched down is not the right phrase for it. The craft had been moving at speeds of 600 miles an hour or better, and stopped in about 12 seconds after making contact. A bulkhead opened on one side, and three figures leapt from it into the dark night. They broke into a dead run, putting as much distance between them and the craft as possible. When they had ran for about 3 minutes, one of them turned back, and raised his hand slightly. A blinding flash of light indicated where the craft and surrounding living buildings had once been. The three of them wore long dark robes. On the front and back of the robes could be seen a symbol, an odd one with lines crossing it. Underlying the maze of lines, was an outline of a diamond-shape, a uniform quadrilateral. One of them, the tallest, had no hair, and imposing features. The second was thin, a wisp of a person with long, darkly colored hair, aparently well kept. the features of this person were made invisible by this hair, which had come out of its usual place on the back due to some very high rate of activity. The third was short, a bit stubby looking. The hair of this figure was bright, almost white. Its face was round and simple. And they moved off into the night, looking for a way to blend in with what was obviously the thing they had doubted most: sentient life.
Guardians
As life evolves, so does the power it possesses. Mankind is the primary sentient species of the galaxy, in all his various forms.
A lone craft hastily makes its way past the gray satellite, moving directly toward the unsuspecting blue orb. This planet has long been known for its ability to support life, yet apparent lack thereof. No better place to hide.
The craft turned a bright orange as it bounced a few times off the atmosphere, and then began a tight turn and descended slowly. Once below the atmosphere, it headed almost directly to the surface, submerging under the water as it sped toward the nearest land mass. Soon, land arose from the water, and in a very short time, buildings appeared on the land. The craft shied away from the lights of a city, and touched down in the suburbs. Actually, touched down is not the right phrase for it. The craft had been moving at speeds of 600 miles an hour or better, and stopped in about 12 seconds after making contact. A bulkhead opened on one side, and three figures leapt from it into the dark night. They broke into a dead run, putting as much distance between them and the craft as possible. When they had ran for about 3 minutes, one of them turned back, and raised his hand slightly. A blinding flash of light indicated where the craft and surrounding living buildings had once been. The three of them wore long dark robes. On the front and back of the robes could be seen a symbol, an odd one with lines crossing it. Underlying the maze of lines, was an outline of a diamond-shape, a uniform quadrilateral. One of them, the tallest, had no hair, and imposing features. The second was thin, a wisp of a person with long, darkly colored hair, aparently well kept. the features of this person were made invisible by this hair, which had come out of its usual place on the back due to some very high rate of activity. The third was short, a bit stubby looking. The hair of this figure was bright, almost white. Its face was round and simple. And they moved off into the night, looking for a way to blend in with what was obviously the thing they had doubted most: sentient life.
Take it like you gave it; what else matters in the end? To be honest, it's all a one-shot test; that leaves plenty of places to go wrong, but how will you ever know? There's a pointer, I will admit. Turn it on, listen to it, feel it burn.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
- Magekind
- Posts: 292
- Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2004 6:55 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere between here and reality. Help?
Next:
Reality Chain
Sean Freeman was the odd one. He was thin, tall, and geeky-looking, although he never wore glasses. He was known for his extensive computer prowess, his ability to waste hours doing nothing, and his seeming incessant schizophrenia. But, then again, even people like him make a few friends, and the fellows that he went around with weren't all that much different. There was Harold Pastor, the local history buff and bookworm, and Michael Mckenny, the science advisor. McKenny could come up with anything, and he was good with prototypes. Pastor knew anything that you could ask him, especially concerning things that had happened, and Freeman was... just somewhat the leader of the group by default. They never spent much time making trouble, at least not of the violent kind that gets capital punishment.
Sean, of course, was not the one who had suggested the idea of hacking into the school's computers, and Harry would have nothing to do with it. Mike was responsible for it. And, having a complete list of everything that needed changed helped Sean decide exactly what he was going to do. But he'd need a password, and a disc.
Mike agreed. A password and a disc. Easy things. He bought the disc, but the password required some thought. Finally, after hours of stretching his mind, he went back to Sean to ask, first, whose password, and then what suggestions he might have had. Computer admin's password. Okay, that should be... a pain in the butt. When asked how, Sean's response was, "Do you have the disc?"
Sean took the disc home to his own computer, and fired it up. The thing was a bit old, but then the computers at school weren't exactly screaming machines, either. They still spoke the same hex code, and similiar INTEL assembly code would have them humming to his tune. The OS on his machine was of his own design, and was rather simple. It required a lot of keyboard commands, could only perform a single task, but it was well worth the effort. He typed out a command, the command prompt changed to another command prompt, and he set to work.
The following day, everything was in order. Mike spent five minutes with the computer admin, and had a number. It seemed a useless number to him, but it was a number nonetheless. To Sean's advantage, the school computer attempted to autorun his disc. Things always seemed to work in his favor. A window with very bad DPI appeared, and Sean typed the number into it. For the next few moments, they watched a steady flow of numbers across the screen. Sean selected all the text visible, and sent it to a printer. The papers went into a jet black binder, and Sean made certain to tell the other two to simply calm down, don't worry, this will work.
Reality Chain
Sean Freeman was the odd one. He was thin, tall, and geeky-looking, although he never wore glasses. He was known for his extensive computer prowess, his ability to waste hours doing nothing, and his seeming incessant schizophrenia. But, then again, even people like him make a few friends, and the fellows that he went around with weren't all that much different. There was Harold Pastor, the local history buff and bookworm, and Michael Mckenny, the science advisor. McKenny could come up with anything, and he was good with prototypes. Pastor knew anything that you could ask him, especially concerning things that had happened, and Freeman was... just somewhat the leader of the group by default. They never spent much time making trouble, at least not of the violent kind that gets capital punishment.
Sean, of course, was not the one who had suggested the idea of hacking into the school's computers, and Harry would have nothing to do with it. Mike was responsible for it. And, having a complete list of everything that needed changed helped Sean decide exactly what he was going to do. But he'd need a password, and a disc.
Mike agreed. A password and a disc. Easy things. He bought the disc, but the password required some thought. Finally, after hours of stretching his mind, he went back to Sean to ask, first, whose password, and then what suggestions he might have had. Computer admin's password. Okay, that should be... a pain in the butt. When asked how, Sean's response was, "Do you have the disc?"
Sean took the disc home to his own computer, and fired it up. The thing was a bit old, but then the computers at school weren't exactly screaming machines, either. They still spoke the same hex code, and similiar INTEL assembly code would have them humming to his tune. The OS on his machine was of his own design, and was rather simple. It required a lot of keyboard commands, could only perform a single task, but it was well worth the effort. He typed out a command, the command prompt changed to another command prompt, and he set to work.
The following day, everything was in order. Mike spent five minutes with the computer admin, and had a number. It seemed a useless number to him, but it was a number nonetheless. To Sean's advantage, the school computer attempted to autorun his disc. Things always seemed to work in his favor. A window with very bad DPI appeared, and Sean typed the number into it. For the next few moments, they watched a steady flow of numbers across the screen. Sean selected all the text visible, and sent it to a printer. The papers went into a jet black binder, and Sean made certain to tell the other two to simply calm down, don't worry, this will work.
Take it like you gave it; what else matters in the end? To be honest, it's all a one-shot test; that leaves plenty of places to go wrong, but how will you ever know? There's a pointer, I will admit. Turn it on, listen to it, feel it burn.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
- Magekind
- Posts: 292
- Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2004 6:55 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere between here and reality. Help?
(Nafa-Talamh: Liberation cont'd)
There are times when a person does something for no other reason aside from creating an effect. At times, one is not aware of the effect that they wanted to create, but the action just seems to fit. Kalen did that then.
He said, "What?", dumped the contents of the shot glass in front of him into his mouth, and proceeded to swallow.
Brandan was lost in his own thought just enough to not notice Kalen's actions. He responded, "Attack the Ronin base," now looking at the table.
Kalen was aware of Brandan's hatred toward the Ronin, and he should have been expecting something like this, but alcohol has a way of pulling people's minds away from reality. The liquor was expelled from Kalen's mouth, and quite possibly his nose, and he did his best to not get it on anyone. He turned back to Brandan to respond, but as his lungs held very little air, he inhaled. For a few seconds he coughed and sputtered a bit, trying to clear his airways, before he wheezed out, "Are you mad?"
Brandan nodded. Quite possibly.
Kalen coughed again, and began a bit of a rant. "We're only children! That city has probably a hundred or more trained soldiers in it, and I don't think they'll have much of a problem with simply killing us. Besides, we're still in training!" Another cough escaped, and he wheezed a bit, trying to clear his throat that his objection might continue.
"They're said to have weapons of amazing power. One like a crossbow that can fire so fast you can't get between them, and the projectile moves so fast you can't even see it coming, and would never be able to get out of the way. These kind of weapons are said to be not only existant, but the primary weapon of the Ronin. And what've we got? Swords, and you still have a time lifting that monstrosity of a steel club you have for your sword. I have my crossbow, but I doubt I could hit anything, especially not anyone with it if I needed to. It isn't possible..." His voice faded when he realized Brandan wasn't really listening.
"What have we got working for us?"
Brandan must have been listening to some degree, for he answered this one. "I don't know, yet."
"And you think we can just charge in there and wipe them out?"
"We might have to sneak around a bit, but I'm not sure how well that will work."
"It isn't going to work, Brandan. Forget it."
Brandan's hatred is defined, as I stated, a cold hatred. It is the kind of anger that will allow a person to do anything to those hated. The mind enters a kind of mode wherein eighty percent of one's thought is distributed to discovering a method of satisfying this hatred. Cold, though, may not be the word for it. Even Brandan had anger.
"My parents were killed. More people are going to see similiar fates. I can't allow that, can you?"
"What we can't do is commit suicide by attacking something so much more powerful than us!"
"Better us than them!"
Kalen stopped. He was serious, wasn't he? "We can't, Brandan."
"Then what can we do?"
Kalen shrugged. "Maybe tomorrow. I'll think about it."
There are times when a person does something for no other reason aside from creating an effect. At times, one is not aware of the effect that they wanted to create, but the action just seems to fit. Kalen did that then.
He said, "What?", dumped the contents of the shot glass in front of him into his mouth, and proceeded to swallow.
Brandan was lost in his own thought just enough to not notice Kalen's actions. He responded, "Attack the Ronin base," now looking at the table.
Kalen was aware of Brandan's hatred toward the Ronin, and he should have been expecting something like this, but alcohol has a way of pulling people's minds away from reality. The liquor was expelled from Kalen's mouth, and quite possibly his nose, and he did his best to not get it on anyone. He turned back to Brandan to respond, but as his lungs held very little air, he inhaled. For a few seconds he coughed and sputtered a bit, trying to clear his airways, before he wheezed out, "Are you mad?"
Brandan nodded. Quite possibly.
Kalen coughed again, and began a bit of a rant. "We're only children! That city has probably a hundred or more trained soldiers in it, and I don't think they'll have much of a problem with simply killing us. Besides, we're still in training!" Another cough escaped, and he wheezed a bit, trying to clear his throat that his objection might continue.
"They're said to have weapons of amazing power. One like a crossbow that can fire so fast you can't get between them, and the projectile moves so fast you can't even see it coming, and would never be able to get out of the way. These kind of weapons are said to be not only existant, but the primary weapon of the Ronin. And what've we got? Swords, and you still have a time lifting that monstrosity of a steel club you have for your sword. I have my crossbow, but I doubt I could hit anything, especially not anyone with it if I needed to. It isn't possible..." His voice faded when he realized Brandan wasn't really listening.
"What have we got working for us?"
Brandan must have been listening to some degree, for he answered this one. "I don't know, yet."
"And you think we can just charge in there and wipe them out?"
"We might have to sneak around a bit, but I'm not sure how well that will work."
"It isn't going to work, Brandan. Forget it."
Brandan's hatred is defined, as I stated, a cold hatred. It is the kind of anger that will allow a person to do anything to those hated. The mind enters a kind of mode wherein eighty percent of one's thought is distributed to discovering a method of satisfying this hatred. Cold, though, may not be the word for it. Even Brandan had anger.
"My parents were killed. More people are going to see similiar fates. I can't allow that, can you?"
"What we can't do is commit suicide by attacking something so much more powerful than us!"
"Better us than them!"
Kalen stopped. He was serious, wasn't he? "We can't, Brandan."
"Then what can we do?"
Kalen shrugged. "Maybe tomorrow. I'll think about it."
Take it like you gave it; what else matters in the end? To be honest, it's all a one-shot test; that leaves plenty of places to go wrong, but how will you ever know? There's a pointer, I will admit. Turn it on, listen to it, feel it burn.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
- Magekind
- Posts: 292
- Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2004 6:55 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere between here and reality. Help?
(Guardians cont'd)
In the city, even the outskirts of such a city, much attention is drawn to an explosion of that immensity. After that night, many wondered what might have caused a glass smooth piece of earth where once an industrial complex stood. Some believed it was a sign from "above", others thought it was a secret government project, and still others adamantly stated that it must be aliens. In their own way, all of them were correct.
The Carmen house was rather busy, with many relatives attempting to raise their social status among the other relatives. This had its many and varied ways of being perpetrated. The most interesting thing happening that night was the boy standing in front of the door, staring up at our three strangers. He looked them over several times, uncertain as to exactly what action he should take. The bald one turned to the tall thin one, and asked, what now?
The tall thin one shrugged lightly. Beyond me, he said. Maybe we should ask him who lives here. The boy's eyes widened. The people were talking, but it was a fast, incomprehensible speech. Maybe somebody else could understand it. He turned and left. The shorter one looked on in surprise. He left the door open, he suggested.
The big bald fellow shook his head. No, he'll be back. He's just uncertain how to handle us.
Sure enough, soon the boy returned with his mother in tow. "Hello, how can I help you?"
The bald man turned again to the long-haired man. What did she say, he asked.
The long-haired fellow shrugged again. I have no idea. We've only just arrived. It takes longer than that to get the language.
The lady waited as the men talked amongst themselves. Possibly they couldn't understand her any better than she could understand them. She spoke again. "Wait here, please. I believe someone may be able to help us communicate."
She closed the door and nearly fled to where her husband's brother was. The man had trained for years in Japan, and was said to be fluent in the language. Hopefully, these very odd strangers were from there. She entered the room where her brother-in-law was, and walked quietly up to him. "John, I think there's someone at the door looking for you. You need to come quickly."
John shrugged. Why not, he decided. He certainly didn't have many enemies. He followed her back up to the main entrance of the Carmen house. When they arrived, they saw the three strangers just leaving the yard.
John, trying to get their attention, shouted, "Oi!"
The men stopped, and turned slowly to face him. Do you think they're talking to us, the leader asked what must obviously be his advisor.
It is rather obvious, came the response. After all, he's looking right at us.
John was definitely good at Japanese, but not speaking it as a first language, he had to be actively listening. He heard something, and it sounded rather promising.
John walked toward the group as they walked toward him, and they met at the bottom of the steps leading up to the front door. He hailed them in Japanese.
What did he say, asked the leader.
It sounded like a greeting. Greet him in return.
John was confused. It sounded like Japanese to the untrained ear, but the differences were enough so that nothing made any real sense to him. He asked them, in Japanese, what they wanted here.
The bald man greeted John, but didn't get the response he'd expected. John at that point already had decided to ask them what they wanted here, and the leader once again turned to his assistant, who, instead of giving a verbal response, simply showed his palms.
In the city, even the outskirts of such a city, much attention is drawn to an explosion of that immensity. After that night, many wondered what might have caused a glass smooth piece of earth where once an industrial complex stood. Some believed it was a sign from "above", others thought it was a secret government project, and still others adamantly stated that it must be aliens. In their own way, all of them were correct.
The Carmen house was rather busy, with many relatives attempting to raise their social status among the other relatives. This had its many and varied ways of being perpetrated. The most interesting thing happening that night was the boy standing in front of the door, staring up at our three strangers. He looked them over several times, uncertain as to exactly what action he should take. The bald one turned to the tall thin one, and asked, what now?
The tall thin one shrugged lightly. Beyond me, he said. Maybe we should ask him who lives here. The boy's eyes widened. The people were talking, but it was a fast, incomprehensible speech. Maybe somebody else could understand it. He turned and left. The shorter one looked on in surprise. He left the door open, he suggested.
The big bald fellow shook his head. No, he'll be back. He's just uncertain how to handle us.
Sure enough, soon the boy returned with his mother in tow. "Hello, how can I help you?"
The bald man turned again to the long-haired man. What did she say, he asked.
The long-haired fellow shrugged again. I have no idea. We've only just arrived. It takes longer than that to get the language.
The lady waited as the men talked amongst themselves. Possibly they couldn't understand her any better than she could understand them. She spoke again. "Wait here, please. I believe someone may be able to help us communicate."
She closed the door and nearly fled to where her husband's brother was. The man had trained for years in Japan, and was said to be fluent in the language. Hopefully, these very odd strangers were from there. She entered the room where her brother-in-law was, and walked quietly up to him. "John, I think there's someone at the door looking for you. You need to come quickly."
John shrugged. Why not, he decided. He certainly didn't have many enemies. He followed her back up to the main entrance of the Carmen house. When they arrived, they saw the three strangers just leaving the yard.
John, trying to get their attention, shouted, "Oi!"
The men stopped, and turned slowly to face him. Do you think they're talking to us, the leader asked what must obviously be his advisor.
It is rather obvious, came the response. After all, he's looking right at us.
John was definitely good at Japanese, but not speaking it as a first language, he had to be actively listening. He heard something, and it sounded rather promising.
John walked toward the group as they walked toward him, and they met at the bottom of the steps leading up to the front door. He hailed them in Japanese.
What did he say, asked the leader.
It sounded like a greeting. Greet him in return.
John was confused. It sounded like Japanese to the untrained ear, but the differences were enough so that nothing made any real sense to him. He asked them, in Japanese, what they wanted here.
The bald man greeted John, but didn't get the response he'd expected. John at that point already had decided to ask them what they wanted here, and the leader once again turned to his assistant, who, instead of giving a verbal response, simply showed his palms.
Take it like you gave it; what else matters in the end? To be honest, it's all a one-shot test; that leaves plenty of places to go wrong, but how will you ever know? There's a pointer, I will admit. Turn it on, listen to it, feel it burn.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
- Magekind
- Posts: 292
- Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2004 6:55 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere between here and reality. Help?
i'm really liking thiese magekinda...i find them interesting and the Nafa one i'm starting to really enjoy ^^ i'm looking forward to reading more and Reality Chain ....i've never really read any hacker stories so i'm interested in how the story's gonna turn out ^^ so please keep writing...as far as critcism hmmmmmmm nothing at the moment ^^
please keep writing!
please keep writing!
"If not now then when? If not me then who?-anonymous
and of course now i must instill the Dancing BANANA'S!
WHY AM I CRYING IN FRENCH-Vash the Stampede
ORORORORORO!-Himura Kenshin
"It is not weak to value human life!"-Raiden, Mortal Combat II
98% of the teenage population does or has tried smoking pot. If you're one of the 2% who hasn't, copy & paste this in your signature.
*ADOPTED BY* ..yea i know scary I got a adopted ~_^
Nami
and of course now i must instill the Dancing BANANA'S!
WHY AM I CRYING IN FRENCH-Vash the Stampede
ORORORORORO!-Himura Kenshin
"It is not weak to value human life!"-Raiden, Mortal Combat II
98% of the teenage population does or has tried smoking pot. If you're one of the 2% who hasn't, copy & paste this in your signature.
*ADOPTED BY* ..yea i know scary I got a adopted ~_^
Nami
-
girlninja - Posts: 388
- Joined: Sat Dec 25, 2004 3:03 pm
- Location: On the rooftops *ninja poofing*
Well, then, consider yourself fortunate, for it is time to advance Reality Chain, which is a bit more like the Matrix kind of hackers.
(Reality Chain cont'd)
The next day, they convened once again in their spare time at the computer lab. Oddly enough, Harry was there. Something must have caught his interest. Sean decided to make something of it.
"Hey, Harry, I thought you were out on this one."
Harry glared at Sean. "I was, until I realized that my sister's on your list."
Sean grinned, and glanced down at his list of information that needed altered. "Wow. Lucky guess. 'Erin Pastor: increment average score by positive fifteen points.' Seems somebody doesn't agree with her abilities."
"This isn't right, guys. There're other ways to make things work out."
Sean shrugged. "Maybe so." He plugged the disc once again into the computer, and nodded to Mike, who left.
"What's he doing?", Harry asked.
Sean didn't take his eyes off the computer screen. "You'll find out."
Soon, Sean's cell phone buzzed, and he ran the program. Two terminal screens appeared, and he started typing, making certain that his commands were as consistent with the commands given on the other screen as possible. Slowly, he varied, and began marking off things from his list in the slight lulls. Soon, his list was finished, and he began copying the commands given on his screen exactly until the screen closed.
He turned to the others, held up the list, and said, "Done. Anything else?"
Harry looked reluctant. "They're going to find out."
Sean and Mike exchanged conspiratorial glances. "Find out what?" Sean asked.
Harry gave in, and left. Sean shook his head. "Poor kid. I wonder what's got him all tense and nervous."
Sean should have been tense. That Friday, just as his last class had let out, he was told to visit the computer asministrator's office.
(Reality Chain cont'd)
The next day, they convened once again in their spare time at the computer lab. Oddly enough, Harry was there. Something must have caught his interest. Sean decided to make something of it.
"Hey, Harry, I thought you were out on this one."
Harry glared at Sean. "I was, until I realized that my sister's on your list."
Sean grinned, and glanced down at his list of information that needed altered. "Wow. Lucky guess. 'Erin Pastor: increment average score by positive fifteen points.' Seems somebody doesn't agree with her abilities."
"This isn't right, guys. There're other ways to make things work out."
Sean shrugged. "Maybe so." He plugged the disc once again into the computer, and nodded to Mike, who left.
"What's he doing?", Harry asked.
Sean didn't take his eyes off the computer screen. "You'll find out."
Soon, Sean's cell phone buzzed, and he ran the program. Two terminal screens appeared, and he started typing, making certain that his commands were as consistent with the commands given on the other screen as possible. Slowly, he varied, and began marking off things from his list in the slight lulls. Soon, his list was finished, and he began copying the commands given on his screen exactly until the screen closed.
He turned to the others, held up the list, and said, "Done. Anything else?"
Harry looked reluctant. "They're going to find out."
Sean and Mike exchanged conspiratorial glances. "Find out what?" Sean asked.
Harry gave in, and left. Sean shook his head. "Poor kid. I wonder what's got him all tense and nervous."
Sean should have been tense. That Friday, just as his last class had let out, he was told to visit the computer asministrator's office.
Take it like you gave it; what else matters in the end? To be honest, it's all a one-shot test; that leaves plenty of places to go wrong, but how will you ever know? There's a pointer, I will admit. Turn it on, listen to it, feel it burn.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
- Magekind
- Posts: 292
- Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2004 6:55 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere between here and reality. Help?
Brandan's sword smashed down into the stand in front of him, and from thence flung off to his left. Another target, made of sticks tied together forming a kind of bench, stood almost exactly on his left side, and his blade sailed just above it. Over-shot, he decided, and began to stop his swing to strike again.
"You're dead already, Brandan. After you missed him, he slashed you straight through the chest. No way you could've survived."
Brandan stopped his strike, allowing his blade to rest on the ground. "Not very optimistic today, are you?"
"Not much to be optimistic about."
"If you're here to discourage me, it isn't going to work."
"I have a question to ask you."
"Ask."
"What is your real intent with this?"
The question had the desired effect. Brandan thought for a moment before responding, "I don't want other people to face the same fate my parents met."
"And you think marching in there and killing everyone is going to work?"
Brandan was a bit frustrated that Kalen seemed to have come up with nothing. "I don't know what will work. It just has to be done."
"What if we could just free the people?"
Brandan didn't catch on. "That's what I'm trying to do! People are probably being slaughtered every day there! I can't let that happen."
"Revolution."
"What?"
Kalen had his attention now. "There's no way we can go in there and destroy the entire Ronin city. However, if your assumptions about all this murder are right, people are going to want to be free of it. All we need to do is get the people to fight against the Ronin until we can withdraw them."
"And then what?"
"Then we bring them as far away from the Ronin as possible, and eventually we might have enough of an army with comparable weapons to attack the Ronin head-on. It will work, Brandan, but there's no instant cure."
"Where do we start?"
Kalen walked over to the weapons shed on the training grounds, and drew two more targets from it. "Right here. We have to train hard, though, if we want to get started soon."
Brandan nodded. He would train, then, for a while longer. A week, maybe. A month at most. He felt that he must move soon.
"You're dead already, Brandan. After you missed him, he slashed you straight through the chest. No way you could've survived."
Brandan stopped his strike, allowing his blade to rest on the ground. "Not very optimistic today, are you?"
"Not much to be optimistic about."
"If you're here to discourage me, it isn't going to work."
"I have a question to ask you."
"Ask."
"What is your real intent with this?"
The question had the desired effect. Brandan thought for a moment before responding, "I don't want other people to face the same fate my parents met."
"And you think marching in there and killing everyone is going to work?"
Brandan was a bit frustrated that Kalen seemed to have come up with nothing. "I don't know what will work. It just has to be done."
"What if we could just free the people?"
Brandan didn't catch on. "That's what I'm trying to do! People are probably being slaughtered every day there! I can't let that happen."
"Revolution."
"What?"
Kalen had his attention now. "There's no way we can go in there and destroy the entire Ronin city. However, if your assumptions about all this murder are right, people are going to want to be free of it. All we need to do is get the people to fight against the Ronin until we can withdraw them."
"And then what?"
"Then we bring them as far away from the Ronin as possible, and eventually we might have enough of an army with comparable weapons to attack the Ronin head-on. It will work, Brandan, but there's no instant cure."
"Where do we start?"
Kalen walked over to the weapons shed on the training grounds, and drew two more targets from it. "Right here. We have to train hard, though, if we want to get started soon."
Brandan nodded. He would train, then, for a while longer. A week, maybe. A month at most. He felt that he must move soon.
Take it like you gave it; what else matters in the end? To be honest, it's all a one-shot test; that leaves plenty of places to go wrong, but how will you ever know? There's a pointer, I will admit. Turn it on, listen to it, feel it burn.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
- Magekind
- Posts: 292
- Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2004 6:55 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere between here and reality. Help?
(Guardians cont'd)
John turned back to his sister-in-law. "It's not Japanese. I have no idea what they're saying."
She turned to him, wide-eyed. "But then, how will we know what they want?"
John was rather surprised. "We don't. That's one of the problems of language barriers. There's nothing more we can do."
Suddenly, she had an idea. "Wait here."
John shrugged, and turned back to the three men who had not moved, and spoke, this time in English. "Well, I suppose that's it. I don't know what she's thinking, but I seriously doubt you'll understand it."
The tall thin one nodded, yet looked confused. He must be multilingual, he told the leader. He's speaking once in a language that could be mistaken for our own, and now in this slow, melodic language. I think he's seriously trying to communicate.
The leader had another question to pose in general: Where did the woman go? His friend could only hazard a guess. I think she went to get something that might help break the language barrier. I have no idea what that might be.
Soon, the woman of the house was returning, with her eldest child in tow, a girl of about eighteen or twenty years. The tall, thin man noticed her. He did more than just notice her, but was scanning every inch of her slender figure, from her white sneakers, her worn jeans and bright blouse with a long collar, to her large blue eyes and light reddish-brown hair, nearly as long as his own. She was obviously aware of his staring at her, and attempted to subtly hide behind her mother and uncle. The hostess and her daughter were carrying trays, and it was these that caught the attention of the rest of them.
The bald leader made no motion, although he watched the trays with interest. The aroma stemming from them was completely new, and very promising. The short man, however, seemed to lack this same degree of self control. He started closing the distance between himself and the woman, extending a hand almost slightly upward to reach for the tray. It contained food, and he was hungry.
The tall, thin man was now watching the daughter in a far less direct manner, slightly upset at himself for having stared at her. It was hard to not notice things, such as the fact that the daughter seemed to be lacking in a most basic form of modesty. Women clad in pants was a completely new thing to him, and slightly disturbing. Certainly, though, there must be a reason, even if it was only cultural. He began to change his position in the group, now that the short man had broken from his position, so that if the girl approached, she would be serving him almost immediately. This was his chance to know.
John turned back to his sister-in-law. "It's not Japanese. I have no idea what they're saying."
She turned to him, wide-eyed. "But then, how will we know what they want?"
John was rather surprised. "We don't. That's one of the problems of language barriers. There's nothing more we can do."
Suddenly, she had an idea. "Wait here."
John shrugged, and turned back to the three men who had not moved, and spoke, this time in English. "Well, I suppose that's it. I don't know what she's thinking, but I seriously doubt you'll understand it."
The tall thin one nodded, yet looked confused. He must be multilingual, he told the leader. He's speaking once in a language that could be mistaken for our own, and now in this slow, melodic language. I think he's seriously trying to communicate.
The leader had another question to pose in general: Where did the woman go? His friend could only hazard a guess. I think she went to get something that might help break the language barrier. I have no idea what that might be.
Soon, the woman of the house was returning, with her eldest child in tow, a girl of about eighteen or twenty years. The tall, thin man noticed her. He did more than just notice her, but was scanning every inch of her slender figure, from her white sneakers, her worn jeans and bright blouse with a long collar, to her large blue eyes and light reddish-brown hair, nearly as long as his own. She was obviously aware of his staring at her, and attempted to subtly hide behind her mother and uncle. The hostess and her daughter were carrying trays, and it was these that caught the attention of the rest of them.
The bald leader made no motion, although he watched the trays with interest. The aroma stemming from them was completely new, and very promising. The short man, however, seemed to lack this same degree of self control. He started closing the distance between himself and the woman, extending a hand almost slightly upward to reach for the tray. It contained food, and he was hungry.
The tall, thin man was now watching the daughter in a far less direct manner, slightly upset at himself for having stared at her. It was hard to not notice things, such as the fact that the daughter seemed to be lacking in a most basic form of modesty. Women clad in pants was a completely new thing to him, and slightly disturbing. Certainly, though, there must be a reason, even if it was only cultural. He began to change his position in the group, now that the short man had broken from his position, so that if the girl approached, she would be serving him almost immediately. This was his chance to know.
Take it like you gave it; what else matters in the end? To be honest, it's all a one-shot test; that leaves plenty of places to go wrong, but how will you ever know? There's a pointer, I will admit. Turn it on, listen to it, feel it burn.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
- Magekind
- Posts: 292
- Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2004 6:55 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere between here and reality. Help?
(Reality Chain cont'd)
Sean made his way reluctantly down the corridors to the computer admin's office.
Merc:What a mess. That's what you get for trying to play hero.
Hero: I did what I felt was right. There can be no punishment for that.
Optimist:Yeah. After all, it was an innovative method, right?
Merc:So, give them some time to come up with an innovative way of making this miserable.
Nerd:How could he know exactly what happened, anyway? I made sure that I only wrote data, not requested to read. And the login times were exactly the same. This has got to be something else.
Merc:You better hope so.
Nerd:I am hoping so.
Merc:Not hard enough.
So went the argument in Sean's mind as he neared the dreaded portal to the office of his condemner. His expression changed with every thought that passed through his mind, but none of the expressions were truly good. He pressed the door open, and stepped inside.
There sitting at his desk in front of the computer, was a professional basketball player. Actually, it was the computer administrator, but he had the build of a basketball player. He stood 6'8, weighed all of 200 or more pounds, his hands were massive, and his muscles well toned. He was trim, tough, and a deep shade of black. Not the kind of guy you'd want to be up against on a ball court or a dark night. Or in an office discussing misuse of school computers.
Merc:I hope you're ready for this, 'cause this guy's going to help you meet your maker.
"Mr. Freeman, sit down."
His accent was amazingly clear. Sean had been expecting something like the typical black celebrity's accent. However, this shouldn't have been a surprise. The newly dubbed Mr. Freeman sat, as directed.
"I suppose you know why I called you in here."
Merc:Dunno what you're talking about.
Nerd:Would that have something to do with my extra-legal activities performed on the terminals here on the premises?
Hero:Yes, sir.
"Yes, sir."
"Good. You do know that I am aware of everything that goes on with the computers here at the school?"
Merc:What's yer point?
Hero:Wait for it...
"Yes, sir."
"I have a log of every access, edit, information request, and logoff that goes on in this campus. I'd like to point a few things out to you."
Merc:Feeling dodgy today? 'Cause I've got stuff that needs done outside of this office...
"Earlier this week, I logged on to the administrative terminal. That terminal was reported as logging on twice at exactly the same time. The logging program's just simple enough that it won't make the mistake of thinking it's the same login, and ignoring it. Apparently, I also altered the records of some eight students during my regular rounds, and then logged off twice. Which computer did you use?"
Merc:What's that to you?
Sean gave the computer number.
"Hm. Truly amazing, Sean. If it weren't for the fact that we're the only people who know about this, you could be in some serious trouble."
Merc:Say wha?!
Optimist:I told you it wasn't going to be all that bad.
"However, I can't let this go unpunished. Who all was involved?"
Sean responded meekly, "Just myself and Mike McKenny."
"You sure? Pastor wasn't involved this time?"
Merc:This time!? Waddya mean, this time?!
"No, sir, he wasn't."
"Then why was his sister's scores edited?" The admin let this float for a while, and Sean was wishing he wouldn't. "Maybe I know. She's cute, quiet, and artistically inclined. You've got a crush on her, don't you?"
Merc:Where'd that come from?
Hero:Not exactly...
Merc:Hang on, hang on. You're telling me this guy's even close?
Hero:Well, it's not like that, really. He's right about one thing, though...
Merc:I don't even wanna know.
Sean looked at his hands for a while, doing his best to keep from going chameleon, as the Merc so often put it.
"Never mind. You do know that teachers expend these points in the way they do for a reason, right? Altering those points means you don't agree with their judgment. There are other ways to dispute a low grade. The first is actually doing your schoolwork."
Sean was glad that the subject had changed. A bit more comfortable.
Merc:Oh, man. What a startling revelation. You've really gone crazy, haven't you?
Hero:It isn't what it seems.
Merc:You're not even the Hero, you're the denialist.
Denier:No I'm not, I'm the Hero.
Hero:Look, I'm not actively pursuing anything in the direction of Erin Pastor. Drop it.
"Make you a deal. We can't accept all of these edits, but I'll keep the least drastic changes. If you give me the source code to your trojan. Extra credit: Find a way to prevent this from happening again. If you'll help me, we can keep this place secure. You in?"
Sean smiled in return at the admin, whom he noticed was smiling at him, and they shook hands. Sean was about to leave his chair, when the admin spoke again. "In other news, I have something I'd like you to see."
Sean made his way reluctantly down the corridors to the computer admin's office.
Merc:What a mess. That's what you get for trying to play hero.
Hero: I did what I felt was right. There can be no punishment for that.
Optimist:Yeah. After all, it was an innovative method, right?
Merc:So, give them some time to come up with an innovative way of making this miserable.
Nerd:How could he know exactly what happened, anyway? I made sure that I only wrote data, not requested to read. And the login times were exactly the same. This has got to be something else.
Merc:You better hope so.
Nerd:I am hoping so.
Merc:Not hard enough.
So went the argument in Sean's mind as he neared the dreaded portal to the office of his condemner. His expression changed with every thought that passed through his mind, but none of the expressions were truly good. He pressed the door open, and stepped inside.
There sitting at his desk in front of the computer, was a professional basketball player. Actually, it was the computer administrator, but he had the build of a basketball player. He stood 6'8, weighed all of 200 or more pounds, his hands were massive, and his muscles well toned. He was trim, tough, and a deep shade of black. Not the kind of guy you'd want to be up against on a ball court or a dark night. Or in an office discussing misuse of school computers.
Merc:I hope you're ready for this, 'cause this guy's going to help you meet your maker.
"Mr. Freeman, sit down."
His accent was amazingly clear. Sean had been expecting something like the typical black celebrity's accent. However, this shouldn't have been a surprise. The newly dubbed Mr. Freeman sat, as directed.
"I suppose you know why I called you in here."
Merc:Dunno what you're talking about.
Nerd:Would that have something to do with my extra-legal activities performed on the terminals here on the premises?
Hero:Yes, sir.
"Yes, sir."
"Good. You do know that I am aware of everything that goes on with the computers here at the school?"
Merc:What's yer point?
Hero:Wait for it...
"Yes, sir."
"I have a log of every access, edit, information request, and logoff that goes on in this campus. I'd like to point a few things out to you."
Merc:Feeling dodgy today? 'Cause I've got stuff that needs done outside of this office...
"Earlier this week, I logged on to the administrative terminal. That terminal was reported as logging on twice at exactly the same time. The logging program's just simple enough that it won't make the mistake of thinking it's the same login, and ignoring it. Apparently, I also altered the records of some eight students during my regular rounds, and then logged off twice. Which computer did you use?"
Merc:What's that to you?
Sean gave the computer number.
"Hm. Truly amazing, Sean. If it weren't for the fact that we're the only people who know about this, you could be in some serious trouble."
Merc:Say wha?!
Optimist:I told you it wasn't going to be all that bad.
"However, I can't let this go unpunished. Who all was involved?"
Sean responded meekly, "Just myself and Mike McKenny."
"You sure? Pastor wasn't involved this time?"
Merc:This time!? Waddya mean, this time?!
"No, sir, he wasn't."
"Then why was his sister's scores edited?" The admin let this float for a while, and Sean was wishing he wouldn't. "Maybe I know. She's cute, quiet, and artistically inclined. You've got a crush on her, don't you?"
Merc:Where'd that come from?
Hero:Not exactly...
Merc:Hang on, hang on. You're telling me this guy's even close?
Hero:Well, it's not like that, really. He's right about one thing, though...
Merc:I don't even wanna know.
Sean looked at his hands for a while, doing his best to keep from going chameleon, as the Merc so often put it.
"Never mind. You do know that teachers expend these points in the way they do for a reason, right? Altering those points means you don't agree with their judgment. There are other ways to dispute a low grade. The first is actually doing your schoolwork."
Sean was glad that the subject had changed. A bit more comfortable.
Merc:Oh, man. What a startling revelation. You've really gone crazy, haven't you?
Hero:It isn't what it seems.
Merc:You're not even the Hero, you're the denialist.
Denier:No I'm not, I'm the Hero.
Hero:Look, I'm not actively pursuing anything in the direction of Erin Pastor. Drop it.
"Make you a deal. We can't accept all of these edits, but I'll keep the least drastic changes. If you give me the source code to your trojan. Extra credit: Find a way to prevent this from happening again. If you'll help me, we can keep this place secure. You in?"
Sean smiled in return at the admin, whom he noticed was smiling at him, and they shook hands. Sean was about to leave his chair, when the admin spoke again. "In other news, I have something I'd like you to see."
Take it like you gave it; what else matters in the end? To be honest, it's all a one-shot test; that leaves plenty of places to go wrong, but how will you ever know? There's a pointer, I will admit. Turn it on, listen to it, feel it burn.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
- Magekind
- Posts: 292
- Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2004 6:55 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere between here and reality. Help?
Alright, folks, for all you who read this... I'm starting a new story. Problem is, I'm starting a new story in the middle of the story. And it really is a short story, not like these longer ones.
So, here it goes:
Rei: Daughter of AI.
fm the view of Ben O'Connor.
First, let me introduce you to her. Rei has always been an outstanding member of our community. She may seem a bit odd at times, but you'll come to understand why. And she's not the only one that's strange. Her parents are even stranger.
Enough of that. When I first saw Rei, I can't really say met, it was in eighth grade. I later learned that this was when she decided to come out of her own little world, and boy, did she ever. She had always been a staight-A student, but never really had any friends. She was always too busy hiding in the corner, noticing no-one, and consequently, being noticed by no-one. This year, though, things changed.
When she decided to take action, things happened. She went from an unknown straight-A student to class favorite. Seems she could make just about anybody happy. Anybody with any sense, anyway. In the next year, she was top of just about everything. Then she decided to try romance. I almost feel sorry for poor Richard. He was the perfect target, though, and she was the perfect perpetrator. In just a few months, he came out of his own shell to join the rest of society.
They were the perfect couple. Even though I felt a little jealous, I never took the time to make myself known. Besides, she seemed so happy. Then, bad things happened.
A recent outburst of some of the most extraordinary terrorist attacks were sweeping the world. They seemed to strike without reason, plan, or preference. People from every nation were suffering from them, and they all bore one similarity. When the destruction was over, there was always one survivor. However, the survivor never spoke to people. It was almost as if the survivor was one of the terrorists themselves.
Another theory was that it was aliens dueling over control of the planet. Nobody could be certain. One thing we knew was that we hadn't been hit yet, and we prayed each night that it would never happen to us. But we should've known better. The really bad thing was, it had to happen to Richard and Rei.
It was almost as if someone wanted to get Rei's attention. Richard had been driving innocently down the road, when one of the terrorist attacks happened. A blast came from nowhere, reports said, and knocked his car and two others off the road. There was one survivor from the vehicle accidents. It wasn't Richard.
Rei went back in to her reclusive state. It was said that there was another attack in which Rei was involved shortly thereafter, but there was no solid evidence. It wasn't until the following year that she got back into the swing of things. Believe me, there were a lot of guys that wanted to comfort her, but she never said a word to any of them. Then she spotted me.
So, here it goes:
Rei: Daughter of AI.
fm the view of Ben O'Connor.
First, let me introduce you to her. Rei has always been an outstanding member of our community. She may seem a bit odd at times, but you'll come to understand why. And she's not the only one that's strange. Her parents are even stranger.
Enough of that. When I first saw Rei, I can't really say met, it was in eighth grade. I later learned that this was when she decided to come out of her own little world, and boy, did she ever. She had always been a staight-A student, but never really had any friends. She was always too busy hiding in the corner, noticing no-one, and consequently, being noticed by no-one. This year, though, things changed.
When she decided to take action, things happened. She went from an unknown straight-A student to class favorite. Seems she could make just about anybody happy. Anybody with any sense, anyway. In the next year, she was top of just about everything. Then she decided to try romance. I almost feel sorry for poor Richard. He was the perfect target, though, and she was the perfect perpetrator. In just a few months, he came out of his own shell to join the rest of society.
They were the perfect couple. Even though I felt a little jealous, I never took the time to make myself known. Besides, she seemed so happy. Then, bad things happened.
A recent outburst of some of the most extraordinary terrorist attacks were sweeping the world. They seemed to strike without reason, plan, or preference. People from every nation were suffering from them, and they all bore one similarity. When the destruction was over, there was always one survivor. However, the survivor never spoke to people. It was almost as if the survivor was one of the terrorists themselves.
Another theory was that it was aliens dueling over control of the planet. Nobody could be certain. One thing we knew was that we hadn't been hit yet, and we prayed each night that it would never happen to us. But we should've known better. The really bad thing was, it had to happen to Richard and Rei.
It was almost as if someone wanted to get Rei's attention. Richard had been driving innocently down the road, when one of the terrorist attacks happened. A blast came from nowhere, reports said, and knocked his car and two others off the road. There was one survivor from the vehicle accidents. It wasn't Richard.
Rei went back in to her reclusive state. It was said that there was another attack in which Rei was involved shortly thereafter, but there was no solid evidence. It wasn't until the following year that she got back into the swing of things. Believe me, there were a lot of guys that wanted to comfort her, but she never said a word to any of them. Then she spotted me.
Take it like you gave it; what else matters in the end? To be honest, it's all a one-shot test; that leaves plenty of places to go wrong, but how will you ever know? There's a pointer, I will admit. Turn it on, listen to it, feel it burn.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
- Magekind
- Posts: 292
- Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2004 6:55 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere between here and reality. Help?
-
starwarsboy90 - Posts: 655
- Joined: Fri Feb 18, 2005 10:00 am
- Location: Indiana
Hmmm, Reality Chain is interesting...I like the multiple inner voice thing, it added a lot of drama to a superficially simple conversation.
REI is also interesting, but not quite enough of it yet for me to tell what's truly going on.
REI is also interesting, but not quite enough of it yet for me to tell what's truly going on.
-
Esoteric - Posts: 1603
- Joined: Sun Aug 22, 2004 1:12 pm
- Location: The Lost Room.
(Nafa-Talamh: The Liberation cont'd)
Two weeks sailed past as only a moment. Brandan's control had definitely been improving, and Kalen's aim was as well. At the end of the two weeks, Brandan told Kalen to pack for a day out of town, they were going to do a survival test, to see how good their skills really were.
Kalen was, when Brandan found him, ready to go, standing just outside the door to Mara and Brian's house, talking to their daughter, Ailee. There was a slight smile on her face, as Kalen's weaving of wondrous tales started to slow down. He thought Brandan would be there any minute, and finally told her that he would be gone for a day. She smiled up at him, and asked, "You'll be back, right?"
Kalen nodded. "The day after tomorrow."
They stood in awkward silence for a moment, before Brandan shouted Kalen's name from a ways down the street, and he left with a wave and a smile.
For two days, they wandered around in the forest with nothing but a set amount of rations, one bun apiece per day. Brandan never complained, but Kalen often found himself seeking for something else. When they got home, he was going to gorge himself, he just knew it. Then they were spotted by the Ronin patrol.
Kalen was looking through the leaves for something juicy, yet not real gooey or sappy. He'd found two kinds of leaves that he actually quite liked, although it could have been because he was starving. He wasn't much worried about any of them being poisonous, when he heard someone say, "Hello?"
Kalen looked up to the stranger, his eyes growing wide in surprise. The man was tall and thin, yet proportioned well enough that Kalen was instantly afraid. His clothes were straight, colorful, and well-kept, and his posture was straight. Kalen started backing away from him slowly, and the man advanced, saying, "Who are you?"
Two weeks sailed past as only a moment. Brandan's control had definitely been improving, and Kalen's aim was as well. At the end of the two weeks, Brandan told Kalen to pack for a day out of town, they were going to do a survival test, to see how good their skills really were.
Kalen was, when Brandan found him, ready to go, standing just outside the door to Mara and Brian's house, talking to their daughter, Ailee. There was a slight smile on her face, as Kalen's weaving of wondrous tales started to slow down. He thought Brandan would be there any minute, and finally told her that he would be gone for a day. She smiled up at him, and asked, "You'll be back, right?"
Kalen nodded. "The day after tomorrow."
They stood in awkward silence for a moment, before Brandan shouted Kalen's name from a ways down the street, and he left with a wave and a smile.
For two days, they wandered around in the forest with nothing but a set amount of rations, one bun apiece per day. Brandan never complained, but Kalen often found himself seeking for something else. When they got home, he was going to gorge himself, he just knew it. Then they were spotted by the Ronin patrol.
Kalen was looking through the leaves for something juicy, yet not real gooey or sappy. He'd found two kinds of leaves that he actually quite liked, although it could have been because he was starving. He wasn't much worried about any of them being poisonous, when he heard someone say, "Hello?"
Kalen looked up to the stranger, his eyes growing wide in surprise. The man was tall and thin, yet proportioned well enough that Kalen was instantly afraid. His clothes were straight, colorful, and well-kept, and his posture was straight. Kalen started backing away from him slowly, and the man advanced, saying, "Who are you?"
Take it like you gave it; what else matters in the end? To be honest, it's all a one-shot test; that leaves plenty of places to go wrong, but how will you ever know? There's a pointer, I will admit. Turn it on, listen to it, feel it burn.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
- Magekind
- Posts: 292
- Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2004 6:55 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere between here and reality. Help?
(Guardians, cont'd)
When her tray was empty, the short man having eaten most of the carrot cake from it, the older woman motioned to her daughter, who reluctantly stepped forward, and held the tray out toward the long-haired, tall, thin man. He simply looked at the tray, and then back up at her, nodding slightly. She was a bit frustrated at this reaction, wondering if he expected her to feed him. She lifted one of the pieces from the tray, and extended it toward him, and he brought both hands up to take it from her. His hands cupped over her hands. She blinked as a strange feeling washed over her, and she pulled her hand back quickly. The piece of cake was gone, and her mother and uncle were staring at her. She looked up at him, curious as to what had happened.
"Sylvia?", he said, in a sharp accent.
Sylvia shook her head, and stepped back, slightly panicked. "How do you know?"
He thought for a while, searching for other words he had learned from her memories. There were a lot of words, but not many of them made sense just yet. Finally, he spoke again. "Food?"
She carefully extended the tray toward him, careful not to get as clse as she had before, but he reached out and put his hand on her hand that was steadying the tray. Again, the same feeling washed over her, and again she jerked back, this time the man was obligated to catch the tray and the pieces of cake that were falling from it, which he did apparently without exertion. He stood back up straight, and held the tray out to her, saying in English, still with a sharp, Asian-sounding accent, "Be careful."
She was careful. Carefully, she took the tray without their hands touching, and carefully she walked back to the house, without looking back. Her uncle followed, curiousity pasted all over his face, while the mother stood in front of the tall thin one, and asked, "Do you have a place to stay?"
She was asking him something about not moving. Probably moving like a drifter moves, with no real home. No, he said in his own tongue, shaking his head.
When her tray was empty, the short man having eaten most of the carrot cake from it, the older woman motioned to her daughter, who reluctantly stepped forward, and held the tray out toward the long-haired, tall, thin man. He simply looked at the tray, and then back up at her, nodding slightly. She was a bit frustrated at this reaction, wondering if he expected her to feed him. She lifted one of the pieces from the tray, and extended it toward him, and he brought both hands up to take it from her. His hands cupped over her hands. She blinked as a strange feeling washed over her, and she pulled her hand back quickly. The piece of cake was gone, and her mother and uncle were staring at her. She looked up at him, curious as to what had happened.
"Sylvia?", he said, in a sharp accent.
Sylvia shook her head, and stepped back, slightly panicked. "How do you know?"
He thought for a while, searching for other words he had learned from her memories. There were a lot of words, but not many of them made sense just yet. Finally, he spoke again. "Food?"
She carefully extended the tray toward him, careful not to get as clse as she had before, but he reached out and put his hand on her hand that was steadying the tray. Again, the same feeling washed over her, and again she jerked back, this time the man was obligated to catch the tray and the pieces of cake that were falling from it, which he did apparently without exertion. He stood back up straight, and held the tray out to her, saying in English, still with a sharp, Asian-sounding accent, "Be careful."
She was careful. Carefully, she took the tray without their hands touching, and carefully she walked back to the house, without looking back. Her uncle followed, curiousity pasted all over his face, while the mother stood in front of the tall thin one, and asked, "Do you have a place to stay?"
She was asking him something about not moving. Probably moving like a drifter moves, with no real home. No, he said in his own tongue, shaking his head.
Take it like you gave it; what else matters in the end? To be honest, it's all a one-shot test; that leaves plenty of places to go wrong, but how will you ever know? There's a pointer, I will admit. Turn it on, listen to it, feel it burn.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
- Magekind
- Posts: 292
- Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2004 6:55 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere between here and reality. Help?
(Reality Chain, cont'd)
Sean retained his seat, waiting for what the admin might want to show him. The admin reached down, opened a drawer on his desk, and pulled a file from it, setting the file on the table. On the tab was written, "Virtual Reality Chain"
"Four years ago, a neurological lab called 'FantaDream' invented a way of taking over the feedback to the human brain. According to a study, a person slept better if their dreams were pleasant. They hired the well-known company HDVRS to make a program to put the pleasing feedback onto the human brain, using their technology. Shortly afterward, HDVRS was sued by FantaDream for using their technology in an unauthorized project. Three years ago, HDVRS bought out FantaDream.
"They want us to test their latest virtual reality system, called the VR Chain. It's a group of different, customizable worlds, populated by people with traits gleaned from real people, who grow and change as their world does. They say each world is fully interactive, with personal, customized worlds available. The thing that really has us ticking in their favor is that time passes much faster in the VR Chain than it does in reality, so you could have several days of experience in a day of real time, and the comprehension and memorization of the things you learn in the VR Chain is immense.
"We're also facing a few problems. In order to enter the VR Chain, a person has to be put to sleep temporarily, and exiting the VR Chain is either timed, or takes a considerably strong will, and possibly a lot of computer know-how."
He pushed the file over to Sean. "Take a look. I'm volunteering you for the trials. Next week at this time, bring any friends or enemies that you might think should be there with you. Oh, and don't forget to bring the information back."
Sean didn't move any more than to take the file. The admin stared at him for a while, and finally said, "Dismissed." Carefully, Sean stood from his chair and left, without looking back. Something seemed highly unreal about the whole process.
Sean retained his seat, waiting for what the admin might want to show him. The admin reached down, opened a drawer on his desk, and pulled a file from it, setting the file on the table. On the tab was written, "Virtual Reality Chain"
"Four years ago, a neurological lab called 'FantaDream' invented a way of taking over the feedback to the human brain. According to a study, a person slept better if their dreams were pleasant. They hired the well-known company HDVRS to make a program to put the pleasing feedback onto the human brain, using their technology. Shortly afterward, HDVRS was sued by FantaDream for using their technology in an unauthorized project. Three years ago, HDVRS bought out FantaDream.
"They want us to test their latest virtual reality system, called the VR Chain. It's a group of different, customizable worlds, populated by people with traits gleaned from real people, who grow and change as their world does. They say each world is fully interactive, with personal, customized worlds available. The thing that really has us ticking in their favor is that time passes much faster in the VR Chain than it does in reality, so you could have several days of experience in a day of real time, and the comprehension and memorization of the things you learn in the VR Chain is immense.
"We're also facing a few problems. In order to enter the VR Chain, a person has to be put to sleep temporarily, and exiting the VR Chain is either timed, or takes a considerably strong will, and possibly a lot of computer know-how."
He pushed the file over to Sean. "Take a look. I'm volunteering you for the trials. Next week at this time, bring any friends or enemies that you might think should be there with you. Oh, and don't forget to bring the information back."
Sean didn't move any more than to take the file. The admin stared at him for a while, and finally said, "Dismissed." Carefully, Sean stood from his chair and left, without looking back. Something seemed highly unreal about the whole process.
Take it like you gave it; what else matters in the end? To be honest, it's all a one-shot test; that leaves plenty of places to go wrong, but how will you ever know? There's a pointer, I will admit. Turn it on, listen to it, feel it burn.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
- Magekind
- Posts: 292
- Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2004 6:55 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere between here and reality. Help?
-
starwarsboy90 - Posts: 655
- Joined: Fri Feb 18, 2005 10:00 am
- Location: Indiana
(Rei, cont'd)
There's a lot of things you don't really notice about a person until you get personal with them. Rei had a lot of quirks like that. For one, she didn't just talk, she communicated. With her numerous gestures, poses, expressions, and inflections, she got an idea across in a most convincing manner. It was almost as though she knew what every possible tiniest gesture implied, and used it properly and to its fullest.
We had been seeing each other for almost a month, when she somehow, in a manner completely beyond my comprehension, convinced me to ask her out. The date would be easy. Meet up with her at a local pizza parlor, have a nice dinner, and take her home. Fate had it in for her, though.
The day before our destined date, I met the local superhero Kent in person. I can only guess he took his name from a popular Marvel comic-book character. He had an ego the size of Texas, only slightly more massive, and a carefree style not truly befitting a superhero. However, he usually got wrongs righted, even if it did end up costing a few fortunes.
I was in a jewelry store when Kent walked in. He was always wearing a steel gray shirt and flat black pants. Why this appealed to him so well, I will never know. He was browsing through the jewelry, and was coming toward me with a set of earrings, the clerk watching him closely, when someone grabbed the clerk from behind. There were five people in the jewelry store just then.
"Kent!", the robber yelled, holding a gun to the clerk's head, "Whatcha gonna do now?!"
The clerk's eyes were on Kent, tears running down her face, her body tense. Kent was smiling, in an evil way. He stepped back, and grabbed the last remaining customer by the back of the collar. What was it with them and picking on girls? It made me just a bit irate, although I knew there was nothing I could do.
Kent's evil grin widened as the girl he had went tense, and said, "Have another," shoving her toward the robber hard enough to take her off her feet. The robber changed focus to the girl that was involuntarily leaping toward him, and fired. He missed.
Of course, Kent helped him miss. Kent smashed into him, pinned him on the ground, and they wrestled a bit. Kent drew what appeared to be a gun, although now I can only speculate as to what it might really have been. With a little more struggle, he launched his enemy through the roof of the jewelry store, and with what seemed to be a light hop, followed. Police arrived in just a few minutes, and I quickly made my way out. Although I had planned on getting something for Rei to give her on our date, I decided that it could wait. The jewelry store was closed for the day, and would probably be closed until they got the hole in the roof fixed.
There's a lot of things you don't really notice about a person until you get personal with them. Rei had a lot of quirks like that. For one, she didn't just talk, she communicated. With her numerous gestures, poses, expressions, and inflections, she got an idea across in a most convincing manner. It was almost as though she knew what every possible tiniest gesture implied, and used it properly and to its fullest.
We had been seeing each other for almost a month, when she somehow, in a manner completely beyond my comprehension, convinced me to ask her out. The date would be easy. Meet up with her at a local pizza parlor, have a nice dinner, and take her home. Fate had it in for her, though.
The day before our destined date, I met the local superhero Kent in person. I can only guess he took his name from a popular Marvel comic-book character. He had an ego the size of Texas, only slightly more massive, and a carefree style not truly befitting a superhero. However, he usually got wrongs righted, even if it did end up costing a few fortunes.
I was in a jewelry store when Kent walked in. He was always wearing a steel gray shirt and flat black pants. Why this appealed to him so well, I will never know. He was browsing through the jewelry, and was coming toward me with a set of earrings, the clerk watching him closely, when someone grabbed the clerk from behind. There were five people in the jewelry store just then.
"Kent!", the robber yelled, holding a gun to the clerk's head, "Whatcha gonna do now?!"
The clerk's eyes were on Kent, tears running down her face, her body tense. Kent was smiling, in an evil way. He stepped back, and grabbed the last remaining customer by the back of the collar. What was it with them and picking on girls? It made me just a bit irate, although I knew there was nothing I could do.
Kent's evil grin widened as the girl he had went tense, and said, "Have another," shoving her toward the robber hard enough to take her off her feet. The robber changed focus to the girl that was involuntarily leaping toward him, and fired. He missed.
Of course, Kent helped him miss. Kent smashed into him, pinned him on the ground, and they wrestled a bit. Kent drew what appeared to be a gun, although now I can only speculate as to what it might really have been. With a little more struggle, he launched his enemy through the roof of the jewelry store, and with what seemed to be a light hop, followed. Police arrived in just a few minutes, and I quickly made my way out. Although I had planned on getting something for Rei to give her on our date, I decided that it could wait. The jewelry store was closed for the day, and would probably be closed until they got the hole in the roof fixed.
Take it like you gave it; what else matters in the end? To be honest, it's all a one-shot test; that leaves plenty of places to go wrong, but how will you ever know? There's a pointer, I will admit. Turn it on, listen to it, feel it burn.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
- Magekind
- Posts: 292
- Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2004 6:55 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere between here and reality. Help?
Hey, guys, I am really, really sorry for not replying to anyone's comments. Your input is appreciated, really it is.
Yes, I know this looks and feels like gravedigging, but I really do intend on continuing these stories. This is their first time ever being written down, so they're still rather rough.
Yes, I know this looks and feels like gravedigging, but I really do intend on continuing these stories. This is their first time ever being written down, so they're still rather rough.
Take it like you gave it; what else matters in the end? To be honest, it's all a one-shot test; that leaves plenty of places to go wrong, but how will you ever know? There's a pointer, I will admit. Turn it on, listen to it, feel it burn.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
- Magekind
- Posts: 292
- Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2004 6:55 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere between here and reality. Help?
(Nafa-Talamh, cont'd)
Kalen was frozen on the spot, and Brandan moved quickly to stand beside his friend, not allowing Kalen to step back any further, and looked straight across at the Ronin officer. "We are free people," Brandan stated coolly, "and we are in training to fight your kind."
Of course, Brandan could have been wrong about him being a Ronin officer, but he'd never seen anything like the man's uniform before, and it looked like the descriptions he'd heard of. "You really think you could take me on?"
Brandan drew his sword. "This day will decide."
The Ronin officer watched him for a while. Of course, he could just whip out the pistol and make a quick end of this guy with the big sword, but that took all the fun out of it. It sounded far more entertaining at the moment to show him how swordplay really worked. He slowly, deliberately drew his saber.
Brandan came in with an all-too predictable overhead slash, and the Ronin officer simply moved out of the way, making a horizontal slash at Brandan's midsection. Brandan corrected in time to have his massive blade thrown off balance, and stumbled backwards a few steps. The officer closed the distance, and pommeled Brandan hard in the chest, just below his neck.
Brandan went down, but brought his blade in a sweep fast enough to knock what was obviously intended to be the final blow off its course. He rolled off to his right, and the officer turned to face him again, not intending on letting him stand up. The officer simply waited for Brandan's next wild slash as he got to his knees and started to stand, and then closed in and kicked him directly in the face.
"I believe it will. Are you ready to die?"
The officer parried a stab by the fallen Brandan, and was bringing his blade down in another attempt at a final strike when he stopped. There was a slight hum, and a soft thud, and the officer's strength was fleeing him fast. Brandan guessed it had something to do with the fletching feathers on the end of a wooden bolt protruding from his chest. Brandan rolled away, and got to his feet, watching the officer warily.
The officer, however, was not mortally wounded, just caught off guard. He turned his attention to the boy, who was lowering the crossbow slowly, a look of pure surprise and terror claiming his face. He took a few steps in Kalen's direction, but Brandan was coming in with another slash that would have severed him.
It pretty well managed just that. The man raised his blade to parry, but with only one hand, it was no match for the weight of Brandan's blade alone, regardless of the strength Brandan was putting behind it. The point and edge cleared a deep gash from the man's left shoulder to right hip, after knocking his saber from his hands.
Brandan stopped when the officer fell. There was a sinking feeling in his chest, his stomach. It kept getting worse, and was punctuated by a kind of severe nausea. The world was spinning wildly around him, and yet on the surface, he felt a kind of satisfaction. This was the first of many to come. With that, they headed home.
Kalen was frozen on the spot, and Brandan moved quickly to stand beside his friend, not allowing Kalen to step back any further, and looked straight across at the Ronin officer. "We are free people," Brandan stated coolly, "and we are in training to fight your kind."
Of course, Brandan could have been wrong about him being a Ronin officer, but he'd never seen anything like the man's uniform before, and it looked like the descriptions he'd heard of. "You really think you could take me on?"
Brandan drew his sword. "This day will decide."
The Ronin officer watched him for a while. Of course, he could just whip out the pistol and make a quick end of this guy with the big sword, but that took all the fun out of it. It sounded far more entertaining at the moment to show him how swordplay really worked. He slowly, deliberately drew his saber.
Brandan came in with an all-too predictable overhead slash, and the Ronin officer simply moved out of the way, making a horizontal slash at Brandan's midsection. Brandan corrected in time to have his massive blade thrown off balance, and stumbled backwards a few steps. The officer closed the distance, and pommeled Brandan hard in the chest, just below his neck.
Brandan went down, but brought his blade in a sweep fast enough to knock what was obviously intended to be the final blow off its course. He rolled off to his right, and the officer turned to face him again, not intending on letting him stand up. The officer simply waited for Brandan's next wild slash as he got to his knees and started to stand, and then closed in and kicked him directly in the face.
"I believe it will. Are you ready to die?"
The officer parried a stab by the fallen Brandan, and was bringing his blade down in another attempt at a final strike when he stopped. There was a slight hum, and a soft thud, and the officer's strength was fleeing him fast. Brandan guessed it had something to do with the fletching feathers on the end of a wooden bolt protruding from his chest. Brandan rolled away, and got to his feet, watching the officer warily.
The officer, however, was not mortally wounded, just caught off guard. He turned his attention to the boy, who was lowering the crossbow slowly, a look of pure surprise and terror claiming his face. He took a few steps in Kalen's direction, but Brandan was coming in with another slash that would have severed him.
It pretty well managed just that. The man raised his blade to parry, but with only one hand, it was no match for the weight of Brandan's blade alone, regardless of the strength Brandan was putting behind it. The point and edge cleared a deep gash from the man's left shoulder to right hip, after knocking his saber from his hands.
Brandan stopped when the officer fell. There was a sinking feeling in his chest, his stomach. It kept getting worse, and was punctuated by a kind of severe nausea. The world was spinning wildly around him, and yet on the surface, he felt a kind of satisfaction. This was the first of many to come. With that, they headed home.
Take it like you gave it; what else matters in the end? To be honest, it's all a one-shot test; that leaves plenty of places to go wrong, but how will you ever know? There's a pointer, I will admit. Turn it on, listen to it, feel it burn.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
- Magekind
- Posts: 292
- Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2004 6:55 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere between here and reality. Help?
(Guardians cont'd)
Once in the house, Sylvia walked quickly to the living room and sat on a chair, a good distance from anyone else. She wasn't exactly feeling sociable, and more than that, she was worried about what had just happened. It wasn't long before her uncle John was sitting in a chair a little ways from her. "What happened?", he asked.
Sylvia didn't answer. She didn't want to think about it. "I think we were all rather surprised that you just left like that, especially the way you two stared at each other for three seconds at a time."
"Three seconds? I only just barely brushed his hand!" That made things even worse. She couldn't possibly be interested in this... alien, yet the way her uncle was talking made it seem as though she had appeared to be.
In a few more minutes, her mother, Lydia Carmen entered, with the three strangers following her. She was talking fast, and pointing to the stairs leading upwards, where the bedrooms were. Was she going to let them take the guest room? Sylvia was rather shocked at the thought. There were still people here that had a long ways to travel, and there was no way they were going to leave tonight.
Her younger brother Joshua came running upstairs from the basement, a squirt-gun in his hand, obviously focused on something other than where he was going. His mother reached for him as he ran past, but missed by a fraction of an inch. Then, he stopped and fell backwards, having charged headlong into the hip and stomach of the largest of the three strangers, the bald man.
Once in the house, Sylvia walked quickly to the living room and sat on a chair, a good distance from anyone else. She wasn't exactly feeling sociable, and more than that, she was worried about what had just happened. It wasn't long before her uncle John was sitting in a chair a little ways from her. "What happened?", he asked.
Sylvia didn't answer. She didn't want to think about it. "I think we were all rather surprised that you just left like that, especially the way you two stared at each other for three seconds at a time."
"Three seconds? I only just barely brushed his hand!" That made things even worse. She couldn't possibly be interested in this... alien, yet the way her uncle was talking made it seem as though she had appeared to be.
In a few more minutes, her mother, Lydia Carmen entered, with the three strangers following her. She was talking fast, and pointing to the stairs leading upwards, where the bedrooms were. Was she going to let them take the guest room? Sylvia was rather shocked at the thought. There were still people here that had a long ways to travel, and there was no way they were going to leave tonight.
Her younger brother Joshua came running upstairs from the basement, a squirt-gun in his hand, obviously focused on something other than where he was going. His mother reached for him as he ran past, but missed by a fraction of an inch. Then, he stopped and fell backwards, having charged headlong into the hip and stomach of the largest of the three strangers, the bald man.
Take it like you gave it; what else matters in the end? To be honest, it's all a one-shot test; that leaves plenty of places to go wrong, but how will you ever know? There's a pointer, I will admit. Turn it on, listen to it, feel it burn.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
- Magekind
- Posts: 292
- Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2004 6:55 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere between here and reality. Help?
(Reality Chain, cont'd)
The computer lab had been completely rearranged. Sean stared in wonder at the machine before him, curious as to how they managed to get it in here without disturbing very many classes. He decided that it looked very evil - or maybe very promising. There was a central computer station, that apparently ran the several "terminals" scattered about. These "terminals" consisted of medical-grade cots with some sort of medical scanning equipment, probably life monitors, and a pillow. Two pillows. Or maybe it was a pillow folded in half, and hung on a stand next to the cot. There were five cots around the central pillar which housed the mainframe computer, and was plugged into the school's internet line, a powerful several-gigabytes-per-second secure hook-up.
Then he took a glance at the crew assembled. Three men he didn't recognize, and every one of them looked straight out of one of those geeky super-spy movies, complete with black tuxedos and white shirts. The people he recognized consisted of Harold Pastor and both his parents, Mike, the school's local politician and beauty queen Maria Hansen, and, to Sean's surprise, Harry's younger sister Erin. The computer administrator, a few of his lackeys, the principal, and the computer science teacher were also present, but Sean had an inkling they wouldn't be the ones on the cots.
Hero: What's she doing here? This is potentially dangerous!
Nerd: Uhhh... if it was dangerous, why would they bring it into a school?
Merc: Don't panic, kid. If things go wrong, it could get interesting. I'm not going to miss out on a little potential fun.
Sean watched carefully as a technician, a stranger without a fancy suit on, came from around the back of the machine and nodded to the strangers in tuxedos. The leader of them turned to the principal, asking, "Who's our first volunteer?"
Sean watched them pass the buck, the principal looking to the computer sci teacher, who looked to the computer admin, who finally turned his eyes to Sean. "Me," Sean found himself replying, just above a whisper.
Merc: What's with that? Are we in this or not?
"That would be me," Sean repeated, this time a little louder, and much more sure of himself.
Merc:You're getting the hang of it.
The super-spy-stranger-leader-guy turned to Sean Freeman, and looked him over. "Okay, come on." Sean followed him to the machine, and the man motioned toward the nearest cot, which Sean noticed had a bright red circle with a flat black 1 on the side. "Lay down," the man suggested, and Sean obeyed.
The man put a pillow under Sean's head, asking him if it was comfortable, in response to which Sean simply nodded. Then he put a heart-rate monitor around Sean's wrist, repeating the question he had asked less than a minute ago, to which Sean responded in exactly the same way. Finally, he lifted the pillow from the stand, and brought it toward Sean's face. He placed it over Sean's eyes and forehead, and it rested as well just down beyond the indexed part of his nose. The man repeated the question, and Sean responded in the same manner. Then he left Sean's side, and asked for the next volunteer.
Soon, Mike was undergoing the treatment that Sean had just narrowly survived, and it wasn't long before the third volunteer was asked for. Maria was the chosen one this time, which was really no surprise to Sean at all. She wasn't one to miss out on anything that might make her look good politically.
The fourth volunteer happened to be Harry, who actually spoke in response to the man's persistent, "Are you comfortable? Is this okay?" Finally, they called for the fifth and final volunteer.
Somehow, Sean thought he heard Erin speak in response, but decided it had to just be the computer admin having some serious second thoughts. After all, there was no way they were putting Erin on there. It just wasn't her kind of thing. At least, Sean didn't think it was her kind of thing. But someone was attached to the fifth cot, and the technician-stranger asked gruffly, "We ready?"
There was some hushed conversation among those who hadn't been chosen to be volunteers, and finally the computer admin replied, "Yes." Sean almost panicked. It wasn't the admin on cot five.
Hero: That's impossible! They're putting Erin on this thing?! If they have to hook us up to heart rate monitors, it's not safe enough for her!
Merc: Will you quit babbling? I'm trying to figure out when they're going to throw the switch and turn the lights on.
Nerd: The heart rate monitors are only a safety precaution. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.
The computer lab had been completely rearranged. Sean stared in wonder at the machine before him, curious as to how they managed to get it in here without disturbing very many classes. He decided that it looked very evil - or maybe very promising. There was a central computer station, that apparently ran the several "terminals" scattered about. These "terminals" consisted of medical-grade cots with some sort of medical scanning equipment, probably life monitors, and a pillow. Two pillows. Or maybe it was a pillow folded in half, and hung on a stand next to the cot. There were five cots around the central pillar which housed the mainframe computer, and was plugged into the school's internet line, a powerful several-gigabytes-per-second secure hook-up.
Then he took a glance at the crew assembled. Three men he didn't recognize, and every one of them looked straight out of one of those geeky super-spy movies, complete with black tuxedos and white shirts. The people he recognized consisted of Harold Pastor and both his parents, Mike, the school's local politician and beauty queen Maria Hansen, and, to Sean's surprise, Harry's younger sister Erin. The computer administrator, a few of his lackeys, the principal, and the computer science teacher were also present, but Sean had an inkling they wouldn't be the ones on the cots.
Hero: What's she doing here? This is potentially dangerous!
Nerd: Uhhh... if it was dangerous, why would they bring it into a school?
Merc: Don't panic, kid. If things go wrong, it could get interesting. I'm not going to miss out on a little potential fun.
Sean watched carefully as a technician, a stranger without a fancy suit on, came from around the back of the machine and nodded to the strangers in tuxedos. The leader of them turned to the principal, asking, "Who's our first volunteer?"
Sean watched them pass the buck, the principal looking to the computer sci teacher, who looked to the computer admin, who finally turned his eyes to Sean. "Me," Sean found himself replying, just above a whisper.
Merc: What's with that? Are we in this or not?
"That would be me," Sean repeated, this time a little louder, and much more sure of himself.
Merc:You're getting the hang of it.
The super-spy-stranger-leader-guy turned to Sean Freeman, and looked him over. "Okay, come on." Sean followed him to the machine, and the man motioned toward the nearest cot, which Sean noticed had a bright red circle with a flat black 1 on the side. "Lay down," the man suggested, and Sean obeyed.
The man put a pillow under Sean's head, asking him if it was comfortable, in response to which Sean simply nodded. Then he put a heart-rate monitor around Sean's wrist, repeating the question he had asked less than a minute ago, to which Sean responded in exactly the same way. Finally, he lifted the pillow from the stand, and brought it toward Sean's face. He placed it over Sean's eyes and forehead, and it rested as well just down beyond the indexed part of his nose. The man repeated the question, and Sean responded in the same manner. Then he left Sean's side, and asked for the next volunteer.
Soon, Mike was undergoing the treatment that Sean had just narrowly survived, and it wasn't long before the third volunteer was asked for. Maria was the chosen one this time, which was really no surprise to Sean at all. She wasn't one to miss out on anything that might make her look good politically.
The fourth volunteer happened to be Harry, who actually spoke in response to the man's persistent, "Are you comfortable? Is this okay?" Finally, they called for the fifth and final volunteer.
Somehow, Sean thought he heard Erin speak in response, but decided it had to just be the computer admin having some serious second thoughts. After all, there was no way they were putting Erin on there. It just wasn't her kind of thing. At least, Sean didn't think it was her kind of thing. But someone was attached to the fifth cot, and the technician-stranger asked gruffly, "We ready?"
There was some hushed conversation among those who hadn't been chosen to be volunteers, and finally the computer admin replied, "Yes." Sean almost panicked. It wasn't the admin on cot five.
Hero: That's impossible! They're putting Erin on this thing?! If they have to hook us up to heart rate monitors, it's not safe enough for her!
Merc: Will you quit babbling? I'm trying to figure out when they're going to throw the switch and turn the lights on.
Nerd: The heart rate monitors are only a safety precaution. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.
Take it like you gave it; what else matters in the end? To be honest, it's all a one-shot test; that leaves plenty of places to go wrong, but how will you ever know? There's a pointer, I will admit. Turn it on, listen to it, feel it burn.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
- Magekind
- Posts: 292
- Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2004 6:55 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere between here and reality. Help?
(Rei, cont'd)
I'd never before gone on a date empty-handed. Then again, I'd never gone on a date. It was a simple outing; we left at eight in the evening, promising her return by ten or eleven, at the latest. Our stop of choice: A movie. Simple, fairly cheap, and something to challenge us for focus on each other, which in my mind, was a good thing.
The movie lasted until about ten-thirty, which would put us directly on the outside limit of our stay. When it was done, we walked hand-in-hand back to my car, when she turned to me. It was a short period of simply searching her eyes, lost in what I saw. What happened next, anyone could predict.
That is, if they happened to be prone to oddities, violent, and possibly somewhat sadistic. A man's hands appeared on Rei's shoulders, and with a quick jerk, tore her away from me. As I attempted to close the distance, another pair of hands appeared on my own shoulders, the grip strong enough that I feared for my bones. Looking up, I saw the attacker that had taken hold of Rei.
He was a good-looking young man, so far as physical form, dressed in a curiously familiar steel gray shirt and black pants. His face was twisted in an evil smile, and he lifted a small gray box to where she could see it, opening the lid. Whatever was inside was glowing a soft green.
"See this? We call it the caterpillar. It's about to get you to tell us what advantages Kent has."
Rei said nothing, staring in horror at whatever was in the box. The man that had been holding me back now released me, and stepped up toward Rei. "No excuses, miss. We wanna know why he's invincible. You gonna tell us?"
Rei shook her head. I somehow seemed to have become no longer a part of this parley, and for the moment, kept my distance. "Lay it on her, ZS-15K," said the one who'd just let go of me.
The one with the box obeyed, and dumped the contents onto Rei's shoulder. She jumped back and swatted at the short, fat, glowing worm, but to no avail. It seemed as if her fingers simply went through it. Something else was wrong, too. When her hand passed through the so-called caterpillar, the skin would be partially gone, as though it had been removed by an acid, and her hands were both bleeding now.
The creature wasn't holding still, either. Quickly it moved for her head, and the attackers watched and laughed as she struggled to keep her head away from it. Then it proceeded downwards after a short stop at her neck, leaving cuts, open wounds, and a light bleeding the entire way.
Sickened by the proceedings, I approached them, armed with nothing. "Stop it!", I shouted, standing directly between her and one of them. He grinned maniacally, and raised his hand. In it was a small nozzle. "Ever burned?", he asked, and squeezed his hand lightly.
I was suddenly knocked aside, and looked to see who was where I had been. To my shock and horror, Rei had been the one to push me out of the way of certain death. In just a few seconds, she was reduced to ashes by a hot streak of blue and yellow flame. The attacker looked at her remains for a few seconds, disappointed, before they turned to leave.
Through the haze, I heard Kent arrive. There was some supernatural fight going on, but that meant nothing to me. I approached Rei's remains, tears streaming down my face, a sickening feeling in my stomach and my head light. I don't remember much from that point forward. Her bones still seemed to be attached, and I somehow got them intothe back seat of the car. From there, the next thing I remember is pulling up at her house.
I had no idea what I was going to tell them. Their daughter had just been torched and I had been unable to do anything to stop it. About then, I heard a soft squeak coming from the back seat, as if someone had accidentaly poked themselves with something. Curious, I turned my head to look.
Immediately, a pair of warm, slightly moist, soft hands appeared on the side of my face, along my jawline, and my head was directed, instead of to the back seat, to the rear-view mirror. I saw Rei smiling at me in the mirror. Her entire face was fresh and clean, almost as though she had just showered, and her hair was uncombed. It almost looked shorter, but I couldn't be sure.
"Sorry," she said, sounding truly apologetic. "I need you to not look back here just now. My brother's coming to get me. Thanks for the night; it was great."
She gave me a light kiss on the back of the neck about the same time her elder brother opened the back door and held out a blanket. I guess she wrapped it around herself, and waved cheerily to me as she walked to the house.
I'd never before gone on a date empty-handed. Then again, I'd never gone on a date. It was a simple outing; we left at eight in the evening, promising her return by ten or eleven, at the latest. Our stop of choice: A movie. Simple, fairly cheap, and something to challenge us for focus on each other, which in my mind, was a good thing.
The movie lasted until about ten-thirty, which would put us directly on the outside limit of our stay. When it was done, we walked hand-in-hand back to my car, when she turned to me. It was a short period of simply searching her eyes, lost in what I saw. What happened next, anyone could predict.
That is, if they happened to be prone to oddities, violent, and possibly somewhat sadistic. A man's hands appeared on Rei's shoulders, and with a quick jerk, tore her away from me. As I attempted to close the distance, another pair of hands appeared on my own shoulders, the grip strong enough that I feared for my bones. Looking up, I saw the attacker that had taken hold of Rei.
He was a good-looking young man, so far as physical form, dressed in a curiously familiar steel gray shirt and black pants. His face was twisted in an evil smile, and he lifted a small gray box to where she could see it, opening the lid. Whatever was inside was glowing a soft green.
"See this? We call it the caterpillar. It's about to get you to tell us what advantages Kent has."
Rei said nothing, staring in horror at whatever was in the box. The man that had been holding me back now released me, and stepped up toward Rei. "No excuses, miss. We wanna know why he's invincible. You gonna tell us?"
Rei shook her head. I somehow seemed to have become no longer a part of this parley, and for the moment, kept my distance. "Lay it on her, ZS-15K," said the one who'd just let go of me.
The one with the box obeyed, and dumped the contents onto Rei's shoulder. She jumped back and swatted at the short, fat, glowing worm, but to no avail. It seemed as if her fingers simply went through it. Something else was wrong, too. When her hand passed through the so-called caterpillar, the skin would be partially gone, as though it had been removed by an acid, and her hands were both bleeding now.
The creature wasn't holding still, either. Quickly it moved for her head, and the attackers watched and laughed as she struggled to keep her head away from it. Then it proceeded downwards after a short stop at her neck, leaving cuts, open wounds, and a light bleeding the entire way.
Sickened by the proceedings, I approached them, armed with nothing. "Stop it!", I shouted, standing directly between her and one of them. He grinned maniacally, and raised his hand. In it was a small nozzle. "Ever burned?", he asked, and squeezed his hand lightly.
I was suddenly knocked aside, and looked to see who was where I had been. To my shock and horror, Rei had been the one to push me out of the way of certain death. In just a few seconds, she was reduced to ashes by a hot streak of blue and yellow flame. The attacker looked at her remains for a few seconds, disappointed, before they turned to leave.
Through the haze, I heard Kent arrive. There was some supernatural fight going on, but that meant nothing to me. I approached Rei's remains, tears streaming down my face, a sickening feeling in my stomach and my head light. I don't remember much from that point forward. Her bones still seemed to be attached, and I somehow got them intothe back seat of the car. From there, the next thing I remember is pulling up at her house.
I had no idea what I was going to tell them. Their daughter had just been torched and I had been unable to do anything to stop it. About then, I heard a soft squeak coming from the back seat, as if someone had accidentaly poked themselves with something. Curious, I turned my head to look.
Immediately, a pair of warm, slightly moist, soft hands appeared on the side of my face, along my jawline, and my head was directed, instead of to the back seat, to the rear-view mirror. I saw Rei smiling at me in the mirror. Her entire face was fresh and clean, almost as though she had just showered, and her hair was uncombed. It almost looked shorter, but I couldn't be sure.
"Sorry," she said, sounding truly apologetic. "I need you to not look back here just now. My brother's coming to get me. Thanks for the night; it was great."
She gave me a light kiss on the back of the neck about the same time her elder brother opened the back door and held out a blanket. I guess she wrapped it around herself, and waved cheerily to me as she walked to the house.
Take it like you gave it; what else matters in the end? To be honest, it's all a one-shot test; that leaves plenty of places to go wrong, but how will you ever know? There's a pointer, I will admit. Turn it on, listen to it, feel it burn.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
- Magekind
- Posts: 292
- Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2004 6:55 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere between here and reality. Help?
I think I like Reality Chain alot. It's the most expresive of your work, plus it has alot of deeper meanings. Continue!
-
starwarsboy90 - Posts: 655
- Joined: Fri Feb 18, 2005 10:00 am
- Location: Indiana
Reality Chain's viewpoint is somewhat from Sean's point of view/third person. If you're following Sean Freeman well, I'm doing it right.
Take it like you gave it; what else matters in the end? To be honest, it's all a one-shot test; that leaves plenty of places to go wrong, but how will you ever know? There's a pointer, I will admit. Turn it on, listen to it, feel it burn.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
- Magekind
- Posts: 292
- Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2004 6:55 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere between here and reality. Help?
(Nafa-Talamh, cont'd)
Within the next few days, they trained even harder. A few hours before sunrise found them actively engaged, until there was no daylight at all left. They stopped only for an hour or two during the heat of the day. On new week days, they trained even harder, the old sage joining their practices and giving them pointers.
Kalen began to grow particularly attached to the younger of the innkeeper's daughters, by the name of Naomi, and the differences between her and her sister increased. During this period, Kalen also tried frequently to get Brandan to, as he put it, "Have a reason to come home," but to no avail. Brandan, after having killed a man, saw victory in his future.
As this month drew to a close, twice they had been obligated to assist a nearly helpless Brandan back to the home of his uncle, who reprimanded him severely. His uncle had good reason: his own son was attempting to follow in Brandan's footsteps, and it put the younger child at times in serious danger. At the end of the month, Brandan again informed Kalen that, with the sage's approval, they were once more going on a survival test. He felt certain he could handle anytihng now.
Kalen bid farewell to his friends as they left, promising to return in just a few short days. Little did he know the actual time scale they would be facing. Three days later, Kalen found himself looking down onto the Ronin city. Fear gripped him. This was not going to be anything like the previous survival test.
Within the next few days, they trained even harder. A few hours before sunrise found them actively engaged, until there was no daylight at all left. They stopped only for an hour or two during the heat of the day. On new week days, they trained even harder, the old sage joining their practices and giving them pointers.
Kalen began to grow particularly attached to the younger of the innkeeper's daughters, by the name of Naomi, and the differences between her and her sister increased. During this period, Kalen also tried frequently to get Brandan to, as he put it, "Have a reason to come home," but to no avail. Brandan, after having killed a man, saw victory in his future.
As this month drew to a close, twice they had been obligated to assist a nearly helpless Brandan back to the home of his uncle, who reprimanded him severely. His uncle had good reason: his own son was attempting to follow in Brandan's footsteps, and it put the younger child at times in serious danger. At the end of the month, Brandan again informed Kalen that, with the sage's approval, they were once more going on a survival test. He felt certain he could handle anytihng now.
Kalen bid farewell to his friends as they left, promising to return in just a few short days. Little did he know the actual time scale they would be facing. Three days later, Kalen found himself looking down onto the Ronin city. Fear gripped him. This was not going to be anything like the previous survival test.
Take it like you gave it; what else matters in the end? To be honest, it's all a one-shot test; that leaves plenty of places to go wrong, but how will you ever know? There's a pointer, I will admit. Turn it on, listen to it, feel it burn.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
At-Close Paren-Right inclusive bracket-Tilde. Thanks to CAA mods. Taken from Jaden Mental's sig.
- Magekind
- Posts: 292
- Joined: Mon Aug 02, 2004 6:55 pm
- Location: Lost somewhere between here and reality. Help?
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