NyNES: Might of the Pen
- Thread starter Nylan
- Start date
Angst
Rambling and inconsistent
Weird. When uploading something from a post, the files should usually be attached to the said post.
I don't know. xD
I don't know. xD
Fuschia
A Little Odd
I'm about. Might do one more story before round one, but don't count on it.
Ninja Dude
Sorry, I wasn't listening...
Origins of Hungsu: Part 2
After thousands of attempts and countless hours of hammering, one man finally approached Hungsu's stubborn form. He had a braided beard and a shiny bald head. He seemed poor, no doubt a peasant or some commoner. Hungsu thought nothing of him, just another bug that would try his hardest and then leave.
"I here you can't be broken," The man said, much to Hungsu's surprise. "Priests, warriors, some even say gods. None can break you. Well, It's time to put that to the test."
With that he revealed a massive stone hammer, runes and strange enscriptions covering it. Lifting it above his head with a grunt, he slammed it into Hungsu. The whole building shook, Hungsu's senses completely thrown out of order for a few seconds. When he regained focus he realised that there were cracks in him. He was breaking!
"HALT!" Hungsu's voice echoed in the room. Bright inscriptions shot of of his cold surface. "Discontinue your attack mortal. I do not wish to be broken!"
"So you can talk," the man said with a slightly surprised tone. "That's pretty strange, you got a name?"
"No. I have never needed a name. But some have called me Hungsu, which is, from what I gather, some old king of this land. Probably a stout individual or some sort. But I ramble, may I ask of your name?"
"Kelinsu Huphata, Chieftain of the Huphata clan. I have come here to either turn you into armor, or a pile of rubble. You have broken quite a lot of hammers, not to mention a few people's wills. now what's it going to be."
"Armor. I will gladly become armor for one as mighty as you."
Hungsu's form began to glow bright gold, shimmering and shining, blinding Kelinsu in a flash of light. Although he couldn't see, Kelinsu could still hear something happening. It sounded like a rock slide and a hurricane all at once. When the light dissipated, Hungsu was nowhere to be found.
"Where the..." Kelinsu looked at his arms and legs. They were covered in stone! But not just any stone. It had the same inscriptions as Hungsu! The stone didn't just cover his arms and legs either. It had completely encased his body, somehow being flexible at joints and near the head.
"You aren't mine bonehead!" Kelinsu shouted. "I was supposed to make you into armor for some king or something. Now what?"
"I refuse to be worn by anyone other than you or your clan. Only you were mighty enough to shake my foundation and crack my surface. Only the Huphata clan is worthy of being protected by me."
And so Kelinsu left the city with Hunsu back in rock form and hidden inside a bag. He just told the people who hired him that he obliterated the rock with his hammer on the first strike and was deeply sorry. for many generations the isolated Huphata clan used Hungsu in times of war, their immense strength combined with his near-impervious qualities to vanquish any foe. Through the generations Hungsu had been handed to the ancestors of Kelinsu. Now he has been given to Jiefin, the young brother of Benthuri. But given Jiefin's reckless behavior and overconfidence, will Hungsu be able to protect Jiefin, or even himself?
After thousands of attempts and countless hours of hammering, one man finally approached Hungsu's stubborn form. He had a braided beard and a shiny bald head. He seemed poor, no doubt a peasant or some commoner. Hungsu thought nothing of him, just another bug that would try his hardest and then leave.
"I here you can't be broken," The man said, much to Hungsu's surprise. "Priests, warriors, some even say gods. None can break you. Well, It's time to put that to the test."
With that he revealed a massive stone hammer, runes and strange enscriptions covering it. Lifting it above his head with a grunt, he slammed it into Hungsu. The whole building shook, Hungsu's senses completely thrown out of order for a few seconds. When he regained focus he realised that there were cracks in him. He was breaking!
"HALT!" Hungsu's voice echoed in the room. Bright inscriptions shot of of his cold surface. "Discontinue your attack mortal. I do not wish to be broken!"
"So you can talk," the man said with a slightly surprised tone. "That's pretty strange, you got a name?"
"No. I have never needed a name. But some have called me Hungsu, which is, from what I gather, some old king of this land. Probably a stout individual or some sort. But I ramble, may I ask of your name?"
"Kelinsu Huphata, Chieftain of the Huphata clan. I have come here to either turn you into armor, or a pile of rubble. You have broken quite a lot of hammers, not to mention a few people's wills. now what's it going to be."
"Armor. I will gladly become armor for one as mighty as you."
Hungsu's form began to glow bright gold, shimmering and shining, blinding Kelinsu in a flash of light. Although he couldn't see, Kelinsu could still hear something happening. It sounded like a rock slide and a hurricane all at once. When the light dissipated, Hungsu was nowhere to be found.
"Where the..." Kelinsu looked at his arms and legs. They were covered in stone! But not just any stone. It had the same inscriptions as Hungsu! The stone didn't just cover his arms and legs either. It had completely encased his body, somehow being flexible at joints and near the head.
"You aren't mine bonehead!" Kelinsu shouted. "I was supposed to make you into armor for some king or something. Now what?"
"I refuse to be worn by anyone other than you or your clan. Only you were mighty enough to shake my foundation and crack my surface. Only the Huphata clan is worthy of being protected by me."
And so Kelinsu left the city with Hunsu back in rock form and hidden inside a bag. He just told the people who hired him that he obliterated the rock with his hammer on the first strike and was deeply sorry. for many generations the isolated Huphata clan used Hungsu in times of war, their immense strength combined with his near-impervious qualities to vanquish any foe. Through the generations Hungsu had been handed to the ancestors of Kelinsu. Now he has been given to Jiefin, the young brother of Benthuri. But given Jiefin's reckless behavior and overconfidence, will Hungsu be able to protect Jiefin, or even himself?
I've been alright, keeping busy with studying and stuff (also WoW addiction
) but I'm going to come back to NESing and stories now. Get on MSN more so we can talk about how I'm stealing back my precious Yath al'Shanaal. *cackle*flyingchicken
Deity
- Joined
- Feb 3, 2007
- Messages
- 3,783
“Please step away from the Harry Smith,” came a voice from behind Harry, presumably from the warehouse. The thugs approaching him stopped looked up, but saw nothing, which confused them greatly. “Please step away from the Harry Smith or deadly force will be used.”
Far from being relieved, Harry relieved himself. Oh great, just frigging great!
The men then looked around and at each other, trying to make sense of what was going on. Soon all eyes were on the apish head of the gang, who broke the brief silence.
“Just agitprop, boys,” he said. “Just agitprop.” With a small motion of his head, he thugs proceeded with the dramatically slow encroachment of Harry's personal space.
Suddenly, the voice spoke again: “This is your final warning. Step away from the Harry Smith or deadly force will be used.” Hearing it more clearly, Harry realized that it sounded like a cheap text-to-voice synthesizer like Microsoft Sam.
Ignoring the voice this time, the thugs met a blaze of gunfire from one of the warehouses' broken windows. They all died in seconds, most from the condition known as “exploding head.”
“Holy frig!” shouted Harry, involuntarily stepping back, flattening himself against the warehouse wall. “Holy mother-frigging frig!”
The voice came again, though it wasn't particularly comforting to Harry: “Mister Harry Smith please step through the door. We have been expecting you.”
“Uh,” Harry said timidly. “This is 933 Whirlpool Street?”
“Yes,” said the voice in its dreary inhuman tone. “Slash exasperation.”
“Slash... oh, right.”
Looking around, Harry saw a rusted old metal door on the warehouse and went through. Inside, he saw a typical abandoned warehouse, not unlike those found in countless old B-movies.
“Uh, what do I –”
“Please enter the lift to your left.” The voice sounded like it was coming from everywhere at once.
Harry looked to his left, and saw an old-school lift that looked like it wasn't used for years.
“Are you sure this is safe?”
“Look,” said the voice. “Do you want your radiation poisoning cured or not? Slash irritation.”
“Well, if you put it that way – ”
“Please enter the lift to your left.”
“Oh fine,” said Harry, rolling his eyes. He entered the lift and waited. “So, uh, this is gonna be... CRAAAAAAAP!”
The lift dropped. It dropped at a heart-stopping speed. Sparks flew as Harry clung on one of the random bars for support. Against the blooding rushing through his ears and the scratching metal, he could make out elevator music playing in the background.
The ride was over almost as soon as it started, and Harry got off quite shaken and gasping for air. After he'd calmed down, he saw that he was in a depressing old laboratory, with rust and gray as its theme. Beakers and test tubes of colorless substances simmered and boiled on some tables, while on others rested machines that looked like they came straight out of science fiction, or at least one of military's latest black projects. The place was dry and cold, and smelt of pine air freshener.
Coming out from behind one of the monstrous machines was a wizened old man, bald, wrinkled, and covered with liver spots. He wore large, round glasses, which rested on his long, pickax nose. He smiled at Harry, showing his unnatural white teeth.
“Welcome, Mister Harry Smith,” the old man said in a raspy voice worthy of Christian Bale's Batman. “Welcome to my lab. I am Doctor Radiation.”
8
“Uh, hi Doctor... Radiation? Is that your legal name?”
“Yes.”
“No crap, really? Since when?”
“Since I was a teenager.”
“Those must have been pretty hard prom nights, huh?”
“My personal life's history is none of your business, Mister Smith.”
“Okay, Doctor Radiation, but maybe I like to know more about doctors who – AAAAARGH!”
Doctor Radiation took and squeezed Harry's bad hand. The dark fluid of earlier turned out not to be blood, but some black substance. Doctor Radiation observed it intently, rubbing his chin in a stereotypically “intelligent but cocky” manner.
“Very interesting,” mumbled the doctor. “I have never seen this symptom before.”
Harry was feeling dizzy with pain. “So, doc, can you cure me?”
“That depends,” whispered Doctor Radiation in response. “I am going to run a few tests on it.”
“Tests?” asked Harry, sounding a bit worried. “Those aren't going to hurt, are they?”
“That depends.”
“Depends on what?!”
“Your pain threshold.”
“Oh, I can assure you, doc, it's not very high!” squeaked Harry, who began to sweat despite the near-freezing temperature. “I can't stand flu shots, for one.”
“Well,” said the doctor, still holding and staring at Harry's bandaged hand. “Then it's going to be quite painful.”
Oh boy, thought Harry, as he was led to some medieval-looking device, like the outcast child of a dentist's chair which made love to the Spanish Inquisition.
9
The chair-device was surprisingly easy on the back, though the great big dangling things, blades and wires all around, and the rather tight restraining belts offset whatever amounts of comfy it had. It was set to an angle, so that Harry was almost laying down as Doctor Radiation was doing his thing, fiddling with syringes and little shiny metal tools and all that.
“So, doctor, this is all going to be for free, right?” asked Harry. “No hidden charges or anything like that?”
“Of course,” said the doctor offhand as he carefully filled a test tube with some colorless liquid.
“That's an awfully kind operation you run here,” said Harry, sounding skeptical. “What do you get out of this?”
“Guinea pigs,” replied the doctor, now setting the test tube on a flame.
“Erm, you're going to experiment on me?”
“Goodness, of course,” said the doctor, tilting his head down to look at Harry as he put on medical gloves. “This is an experimental procedure, ergo everyone I test it on is technically a human guinea pig.”
“Uh, okay,” said Harry, little reassured. The doctor started removing the bandages, which felt like burning, only much more painful.
The bandages were removed, exposing a black-and-rend hand far too disgusting to be described here in detail. Suffice to say, it was a horrid sight.
“I think I'm gonna be sick.”
“In case you forget, Mister Smith, you are.”
“Right,” said Harry, looking around. The doctor took a scalpel and a little rectangular glass plate and then scraped off bits of things from Harry's bloated and disfigured hand, and that also felt like burning, only much more painful.
“Hey, doc, I'm not wrecking your concentration making small talk like this, am I?”
“No, my mind is far too sharp to be truly distracted,” said the doctor as he turned to mix the sample of thing with the colorless liquid he was heating up.
“That's good to hear,” laughed Harry; it was a nervous laugh. “I gotta thank you for this and saving me back there, eh?”
“Saving?” The doctor was now holding some kind of electronic scanner attached to the chair, which he began hovering over Harry's eye tumors.
“Yes, you, uh... murdered... a bunch of thugs who were about to mug me.”
“I don't recall... no, I think you confuse me with Al.”
“Al?”
The cheaply synthesized voice from before spoke: “It was me who beep” – the synthesized voice stopped here, replaced by a recording – “murdered... a bunch of thugs beep.”
“Oh, Al,” said Harry. “You must be robot or something, right?”
“I am an artificial intelligence.”
“Oh, right, Al – of course.”
A few more minutes of sampling and random sciencey procedures of varying pain on Harry passed in silence and screams, though Al did provide some soothing music.
“So, Mister Smith, how did you come by this condition?”
“Well, I was writing for the International Enquiry –”
“Quality paper.”
Harry tried to raise an eyebrow, but some kind of shiny clamp-thing was on his eye. So instead, he just continued relating his interesting discoveries about Conglomerate Inc.'s ink and his coworkers' cases of ocular cancer.
Doctor Radiation, doing his sciencey thing, simply said, “Interesting.”
Finally, after one last jab of some thermometer-looking thing into Harry's hand, it was all over.
“So, doc, what's the diagnosis?” Harry asked as the belts restraining him loosened, allowing him to sit up.
“It appears,” replied Doctor Radiation, dramatically wiping his glasses as he did. “That ink genes have mixed into your DNA, Mister Smith.”
Harry was incredulous. Ink genes? “You're crapping me,” he told the doctor.
To be continued...
germanicus12
First Citizen of Rome
Nevermind, just found out it will be June 4th.
Angst
Rambling and inconsistent
Her knife cut through the watermelon firmly. Her hands were young, like her face, the narrow eyes on her head being full with light. She took the pieces of fruit and put them on a plate and walked a few steps away from the wooden kitchen table, towards the door to the next room. As she opened, she remembered to look over her shoulder and checked if she had cleaned the kitchen properly; and afterwards she sat down on the couch, in the end closest to the fireplace. Putting the plate on the mahogny table, she took a piece for herself. She happily munched a number of sweet bites from the melon, the water dripping down on her spotted pyjamas, the only other sound being the old clock by the wall. A golden chandelier was hanging from the ceiling, lightening the room in the gleam from the fireplace at the end of the room. The young girl had finished her meal; picking up her plate, she prepared herself to return to the kitchen while noices could be heard in the hallway.
"... Not you, woman! Now get down! ... Hound!"
The man's voice was penetrating the silver-ornated door like hidden eyes through the window a dark night. She froze, clutching the plate flatly to her chest, hearing a loud gurgle outside the room and dump sounds. She was shaking a bit, unsteadily walking sideways to get nearer the kitchen door, but no matter what she did, she was too uneasy to move very fast. Then the doorknot turned a bit, and it opened. A foot entered the room first; a black garnished leather boot with a golden strop tightener. Then the leg appeared, dressed in white spats, a beautiful renaissence male dress with plenty of decorated white patterns and a black belt, a swooping moon-coloured cape with a high collar; and of course, the house noble, Lord Pernsmore, with a fine nose, long curls and large, dark eyes. He smiled.
"But hello, sweetie," he said in a pleasant voice. The girl smiled reluctantly.
"Hi dad," she said.
"But darling!" Lord Pernsmore said sternly, "You shouldn't have eaten your watermelon yet. Your birthday is in four days now!"
The girl looked down on her empty plate shamefully. "Sorry dad. I was hungry."
"It's all right dear," the father said, walking towards his daughter with open arms, "But you should be more careful. You know you have to fast in order to have you beautiful for your birthday. We want you to be all hungry and pretty for your big day."
The girl looked down, now with her arms hanging on each of her sides. Her father eyed her with an inexpressive look on his face.
"Look honey," Lord Pernsmore said, "If you clean your plate nice and tidily, I can give you a slice of bread with jam."
The girl looked up at him with her narrow eyes wide, then quickly sprinted towards the kitchen with her porcelain plate; Lord Pernsmore laughed heartily, then walked towards the kitchen door as well with slow, steady steps.
"... Not you, woman! Now get down! ... Hound!"
The man's voice was penetrating the silver-ornated door like hidden eyes through the window a dark night. She froze, clutching the plate flatly to her chest, hearing a loud gurgle outside the room and dump sounds. She was shaking a bit, unsteadily walking sideways to get nearer the kitchen door, but no matter what she did, she was too uneasy to move very fast. Then the doorknot turned a bit, and it opened. A foot entered the room first; a black garnished leather boot with a golden strop tightener. Then the leg appeared, dressed in white spats, a beautiful renaissence male dress with plenty of decorated white patterns and a black belt, a swooping moon-coloured cape with a high collar; and of course, the house noble, Lord Pernsmore, with a fine nose, long curls and large, dark eyes. He smiled.
"But hello, sweetie," he said in a pleasant voice. The girl smiled reluctantly.
"Hi dad," she said.
"But darling!" Lord Pernsmore said sternly, "You shouldn't have eaten your watermelon yet. Your birthday is in four days now!"
The girl looked down on her empty plate shamefully. "Sorry dad. I was hungry."
"It's all right dear," the father said, walking towards his daughter with open arms, "But you should be more careful. You know you have to fast in order to have you beautiful for your birthday. We want you to be all hungry and pretty for your big day."
The girl looked down, now with her arms hanging on each of her sides. Her father eyed her with an inexpressive look on his face.
"Look honey," Lord Pernsmore said, "If you clean your plate nice and tidily, I can give you a slice of bread with jam."
The girl looked up at him with her narrow eyes wide, then quickly sprinted towards the kitchen with her porcelain plate; Lord Pernsmore laughed heartily, then walked towards the kitchen door as well with slow, steady steps.
Nylan
Characters Welcome
Just a reminder:
I would like to add that two more players would give us a nice, even round of 16
I would like to add that two more players would give us a nice, even round of 16
Angst
Rambling and inconsistent
Oh, and by the way, my latest story was chapter 4 of the Tok-Tok epoch.
Nylan
Characters Welcome
He Made Landfall
Sybrus Brayne stood restlessly in the cramped interior of the hydrofoil as it bounced over the rough surface of the unseen water outside. The bleak lights flickered with every rattle, and the dirty, corrugated metal creaked.
A mechanical voice buzzed through the small, automated craft.
“Destination Carnivale. Please depart through the forward portal. Have a nice day. Support the Nakai Corporation.”
Sybrus nodded at the beaten in, weathered speaker box on the wall, and tapped on it twice with his mechanical hand, as if in a small gesture of solidarity with the voice, doomed to be forever trapped in the dingy interior of the vessel.
“Just another gear in the machine.” mumbled Sybrus, knowing that he would never encounter the same AI again, and wondering whether it was even capable of sensing the gesture. Anything to keep hope alive- and he certainly was in need of some now.
The metal door grated open, its bearings and rubber bumpers long since worn away. Sybrus pulled on his trenchcoat, hiding most of his artificial limbs, and steppedinto the sunlight, becoming temporary blinded by the orange glow of the setting sun. Picking up a worn-out duffel containing his few possessions, he swung the bag over his shoulder and stepped out onto the bow of the small hydrofoil. He hopped off of it, onto a simple dock. Sybrus examined the material- it wasn’t corroded metal, as he had first thought- it was... wood? His left claw reached down and pulled off a sliver. Incredible- he’d heard of the material before, but was firmly under the impression that only the obscenely rich could build with it. Where was this place?
He looked up. The sun was setting over a strange, artificial landscape. Strange, impractical-looking machines adorned the lands within his sight. He would have to explore- this was clearly intended to be the battleground for the tournament. He set out along the dock, seeing the only human being in sight- a young girl standing beneath an illegible sign. Sybrus approached, not saying a word. He looked at her quizzically- she stared back.
“I’m here for the tournament.” ventured Sybrus, attempting to initiate a conversation.
The girl didn’t respond.
“Do you have something there?”
She was already holding out a paper, her mouth firmly shut.
“Thanks.” Sybrus’ mechanical hand shot out to receive the offering. The girl did not react in any way. Sybrus stared into her eyes, searching for something, but finding nothing. Shrugging, he started off, into the island.
“Enjoy the sunset.” he said, as an afterthought. Predictably, the girl did not respond. Sybrus held the paper in front of him as he limped along the rough, well-worn path up from the docks. Registration, legalities, a guide, and a map. Sybrus folded and pocketed the paper, reaching the top of the path. Around him was the place he had been fearing and awaiting... Carnivale. At various points in the distance, he saw other figures wandering throughout the area- hosts, perhaps, or other competitors. Sybrus felt at his pocket, feeling the reassuring presence of his collapsed staff. With a resolute grimace, he set out, in his clicking, limping gait, into the grounds which would decide his future.
Sybrus Brayne stood restlessly in the cramped interior of the hydrofoil as it bounced over the rough surface of the unseen water outside. The bleak lights flickered with every rattle, and the dirty, corrugated metal creaked.
A mechanical voice buzzed through the small, automated craft.
“Destination Carnivale. Please depart through the forward portal. Have a nice day. Support the Nakai Corporation.”
Sybrus nodded at the beaten in, weathered speaker box on the wall, and tapped on it twice with his mechanical hand, as if in a small gesture of solidarity with the voice, doomed to be forever trapped in the dingy interior of the vessel.
“Just another gear in the machine.” mumbled Sybrus, knowing that he would never encounter the same AI again, and wondering whether it was even capable of sensing the gesture. Anything to keep hope alive- and he certainly was in need of some now.
The metal door grated open, its bearings and rubber bumpers long since worn away. Sybrus pulled on his trenchcoat, hiding most of his artificial limbs, and steppedinto the sunlight, becoming temporary blinded by the orange glow of the setting sun. Picking up a worn-out duffel containing his few possessions, he swung the bag over his shoulder and stepped out onto the bow of the small hydrofoil. He hopped off of it, onto a simple dock. Sybrus examined the material- it wasn’t corroded metal, as he had first thought- it was... wood? His left claw reached down and pulled off a sliver. Incredible- he’d heard of the material before, but was firmly under the impression that only the obscenely rich could build with it. Where was this place?
He looked up. The sun was setting over a strange, artificial landscape. Strange, impractical-looking machines adorned the lands within his sight. He would have to explore- this was clearly intended to be the battleground for the tournament. He set out along the dock, seeing the only human being in sight- a young girl standing beneath an illegible sign. Sybrus approached, not saying a word. He looked at her quizzically- she stared back.
“I’m here for the tournament.” ventured Sybrus, attempting to initiate a conversation.
The girl didn’t respond.
“Do you have something there?”
She was already holding out a paper, her mouth firmly shut.
“Thanks.” Sybrus’ mechanical hand shot out to receive the offering. The girl did not react in any way. Sybrus stared into her eyes, searching for something, but finding nothing. Shrugging, he started off, into the island.
“Enjoy the sunset.” he said, as an afterthought. Predictably, the girl did not respond. Sybrus held the paper in front of him as he limped along the rough, well-worn path up from the docks. Registration, legalities, a guide, and a map. Sybrus folded and pocketed the paper, reaching the top of the path. Around him was the place he had been fearing and awaiting... Carnivale. At various points in the distance, he saw other figures wandering throughout the area- hosts, perhaps, or other competitors. Sybrus felt at his pocket, feeling the reassuring presence of his collapsed staff. With a resolute grimace, he set out, in his clicking, limping gait, into the grounds which would decide his future.
Condor_green
King
- Joined
- Nov 23, 2008
- Messages
- 661
Quiet. Stealthy, unassuming all of these words described Nolan at his best but one thing could be said about him above all of the others. Reliable, you could rely on Nolan to finish a specified task quickly, efficiently and effortlessly. This trait made Nolan a nearly invaluable asset to the espionage core. Now Nolan used every bit of training knowledge at his disposal to obtain an advantage before the fights began.
Dropping quickly and silently behind the person who had just arrived the man with a limp, he placed a bug in his pack, attaching it to what felt like a small stick Nolan whispered a quiet "good luck" and slunk quickly into the alleyway before disappearing "Into the Past". As anticipated the man known as Sybrus turned around in obvious surprise after the greeting was whispered but by then Nolan was already after the Roman. Nolan found him training behind the Ferris wheel, slashing, cutting, and stabbing at the imaginary opponents surrounding him with the grace only a man who has devoted his entire life to swordsmanship can achieve. As the Roman wiped the sweat from his brow Nolan ran silently and quickly towards him and while passing him, placed a bug on his shoulder before turning the corner and walking through the bar, he was never spotted.
Nolan did this with each and every contestant and surprisingly the only man who caught him was the giant with a rock. Opening his eyes slowly the giant said "who are you and what do you want" "I am a ghost and I want to observe" Nolan replied. The rock glowed faintly orange and the large man whispers "you lie". Nolan barely dodged the fist as it ground the rocks beneath him to dust. Slipping the bug into the area between the thumb and forefinger Nolan made a hasty retreat. "Success" Nolan thought with satisfaction. "The only people who caught me were the giant and the hunter of men and she didn't seem to mind my presence". Nolan walked into the bar and prepared a chemical that would allow him to see outside of the human color spectrum. All was as it should be.
Anything I should change?
Dropping quickly and silently behind the person who had just arrived the man with a limp, he placed a bug in his pack, attaching it to what felt like a small stick Nolan whispered a quiet "good luck" and slunk quickly into the alleyway before disappearing "Into the Past". As anticipated the man known as Sybrus turned around in obvious surprise after the greeting was whispered but by then Nolan was already after the Roman. Nolan found him training behind the Ferris wheel, slashing, cutting, and stabbing at the imaginary opponents surrounding him with the grace only a man who has devoted his entire life to swordsmanship can achieve. As the Roman wiped the sweat from his brow Nolan ran silently and quickly towards him and while passing him, placed a bug on his shoulder before turning the corner and walking through the bar, he was never spotted.
Nolan did this with each and every contestant and surprisingly the only man who caught him was the giant with a rock. Opening his eyes slowly the giant said "who are you and what do you want" "I am a ghost and I want to observe" Nolan replied. The rock glowed faintly orange and the large man whispers "you lie". Nolan barely dodged the fist as it ground the rocks beneath him to dust. Slipping the bug into the area between the thumb and forefinger Nolan made a hasty retreat. "Success" Nolan thought with satisfaction. "The only people who caught me were the giant and the hunter of men and she didn't seem to mind my presence". Nolan walked into the bar and prepared a chemical that would allow him to see outside of the human color spectrum. All was as it should be.
Anything I should change?
Condor_green
King
- Joined
- Nov 23, 2008
- Messages
- 661
Not really a superior attitude but observation. Sybrus looked nervous to Nolan so he thought of him as nervous, and besides I am allowed a little room for error as I write your character because I don't know very much about him. I might make a couple of mistakes regarding Sybrus and you might make a couple with Nolan. If you feel I haven't written Sybrus in character tell me and I will make necessary adjustments to in-game stories. You can expect the same with me. For now just ignore most of the mistakes I make as they are purely mistakes of ignorance.
Story Edited.
Story Edited.
Vertinari118
Deity
Cabera is invisible to anyone smarter than a dog and would know you have planted the bug. I have described his perception filter and his telepathic abilities in his background stories. Unless your character is a stronger telepath than Cabera, with over 2,000 years experience (I will describe how this is possible in at least one of my fight stories to make them more lively and please don't try and second guess it. You won't get it right) or is dumber than a dog then he should not be able to see Cabera at all! Then there is the whole able to read almost any mind around him thing too...
Of course condor- none of us know each other's characters yet, and making mistakes with first impressions is just as normal in print as it is in real life. I like the fact that Nolan doesn't think very highly of Sybrus' nerve, and I think you should have kept that note in your story- it enriches it.
Angst
Rambling and inconsistent
Not to be rude or anything, but creating a too powerful character doesn't leave for much flexibility for your opponents to play with. It doesn't directly ruin the feel, but currently I see no way that my own character's powers (Since they are only averagely powerful, I know you don't know what they are yet) would be able to defeat a character who is invisible, can bend and damage people's minds at will, and can read his enemy's mind, making him prepared for anything, therefore I had to either write of him as weaker (Or invent some weakness), win in an unacceptable way (Like if a character could predict the future, why would he fall for a tripwire trap); both of them resulting in a rightful rant by you since nobody should work with a predefined character that way. Also, it would lead to severe minus points in the judges eyes due to understandable reasons (Then again, they could ignore the story fallacies if they understood a character would just be difficult to defeat). Sure, I can be creative, but you have to have some kind of weakness, or a way to be defeated, you know. And saying "You just have to be a better telepath than me" equalizes "You just have to be stronger than me", which is kinda ruining the feel of the game (And contradicts the wishes of Nylan regarding what should be focused upon in these stories). Well, at least the feel of my character. I don't want Tok-Tok to be omnipotent and godlike. Then it's no fun fighting a battle, and it usually leaves less room for his background story.
This is not an attack, but rather a friendly reminder (Although I might sound angry, but really, I'm not), and it goes for everyone. I'm not pointing specifics out; and I know that Vertinari118 hasn't posted specifics about his character's backstory yet, or an actual list of his powers. So bottom line is, it's a reminder.
BUT, I do have one problem. If Vertinari118 is going to tell his opponent what his past is (the reason to his apparent immortality) during a fight, he should understand that the said talk is not a part of canon; but I think it actually should be equally inventable by his opponents, otherwise it will drop out of the backstory. It's like if I joined with a guy named Dragon X, and said he was half dragon, half something else, and I would reveal the second part in my first fighting round. Too many difficulties.
Although, it might allow for us to creatively invent some kind of a logical weakness of Cabera (If Vertinari118 chooses to leave him like this). Which would be good anyways.
Additionally, I would like to throw in that I at least know my character is what I consider a fair match since his powers are quite situational, even though they remain mighty in the correct situations. And you will have them revealed at some point, of course.
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Also, I would like to (prematurely) defend my point of Cabera's background being problematic. I do know that background unequalizes with abilities. That is for example true with Tok-Tok, since his abilities (That you will know of eventually) aren't dependant on his story - actually his background has nothing to do with his fighting style. They are two different things. In Cabera's case, one of his abilities is to survive throughout 2000 years - what does this mean? Is he invulnerable, and/or immortal? What is the reason for this - does the source of his power reside in him travelling from mind to mind like Orochimaro*, which is understandable from his psychic abilities, or is his life tied to an artifact which preserves him, does he need a specific medicine, or is he merely enchanted? Each of these can have serious effects on the outcome of the battle, therefore the background of his age is tied to his abilities.
Again, even though this post is incredibly directed at you Vertinari118, it's more like a friendly public notice, and has some points to be considered by everyone, and especially the latter to be thought about - all information regarding your character's status in the battlefield, each and every dark secret about your character that might have an impact on your fighting, should be posted before the start of the battle. That is all.
*I watch too much Naruto.
Nylan
Characters Welcome
Remember that every story is written from the perspective of that person's character, and as such would be easy to fit into proper canon with a little imagination. For example: Nolan thought he had bugged everyone, but missed one. Other possibilities would have been an illusion of Cabera, rather than the real thing, etc.
lord joakim does have a valid point concerning what people have known about their character vs what others try to do with it. It is the writer's duty to only write that which fits the other person's creation to the best of their knowledge, but they have to have enough knowledge to do so. You don't have to reveal everything, but you must be willing to accept a reasonable amount of discrepancies.
On the other hand, I actually like Cabera as a character and think he has quite a bit of potential.
Play nice, children.
lord joakim does have a valid point concerning what people have known about their character vs what others try to do with it. It is the writer's duty to only write that which fits the other person's creation to the best of their knowledge, but they have to have enough knowledge to do so. You don't have to reveal everything, but you must be willing to accept a reasonable amount of discrepancies.
On the other hand, I actually like Cabera as a character and think he has quite a bit of potential.
Play nice, children.
Angst
Rambling and inconsistent
But seriously Nylan, if I did an entry with a character who is invulnerable, immortal, invisible, unexhaustable, have a never-ending shield which protects against anything (fx mind control) shoots nukes and decides the future, I know I wouldn't win per default, but how could the opponent find a creative way to defeat me?
I know that might not be the case with Cabera (his personality intrigues me btw), but even though my character is powerful, he is only moderately powerful, and nothing more than that. Thinking in actual realistical terms, I am pretty sure that so far there is no way I can defeat Cabera without bending either my or his character's apparence/abilities to a more balanced level.
I know that might not be the case with Cabera (his personality intrigues me btw), but even though my character is powerful, he is only moderately powerful, and nothing more than that. Thinking in actual realistical terms, I am pretty sure that so far there is no way I can defeat Cabera without bending either my or his character's apparence/abilities to a more balanced level.
