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FM licked the first three fingers of his right hand and stroked his eyebrows, smoothing them down. He turned at, white robes with simple gold embroidery down the front swishing around him as he heard the guard approach.
FM was standing in a simple square room, with four braziers, one in each corner, all burning different colours. These weren’t normal flames however, as they did not give off coloured light, and the room remained smokeless, with a white light seeming to emanate from the walls and floor, with no shadows forming. In the middle of the room were two pedestals, about four feet apart. On top of them was a box. In it was FM’s father. FM turned as the guard stopped, bowing.
“Master.” Said Sniper, raising his head, looking into FM’s cold, hard eyes.
“You have your mission? You are ready to leave?”
“Yes Master.”
“Good.” FM turned back to look at the coffin, licking his fingers and rubbings his eyebrows again as he spoke. “This is just the first part my friend. I will have my revenge, I do not know when, but I will/”
“Yes Master.” There was an edge of concern in Snipers voice.
“What is wrong, my friend?”
“I do not know, Master. I think I am worrying with no reason.”
“Ah. You are concerned about the book, yes?” Sniper lowered his eyes. “Do not fear. I will find the book. MY magic grows with each passing month, soon I will have the power needed to find the book. Then, when it is mine, I will have unimaginable power!” FM felt a shiver run up his spine as he closed his eyes, imagining the power he would wield. He looked at Sniper. “You have your orders.”
“Yes Master Meister.”
“Go. Be swift, and do not fail me.” Sniper turned and left the room.
FM turned back to the coffin. As he walked around it, his fingers traced the inscription carved into the stone. He knew them all, word for word, but their feel comforted him. They were instructions on how to travel the underworld.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Wrath exploded through Meka’s mind. He screamed “No!” in a murderous rage as he leapt off the rock. With both hands he brought the sword up while still in mid-air. When he hit the ground he recoiled, swinging it around from behind in an arc. The sword whistled with its speed. The man had turned as Meka hit the ground. Seeing Meka coming, he brought his own sword up defensively, with lightning speed.
Meka watched as if in a dream as his sword come around. Every ounce of his strength went into trying to make the sword go truer, go faster. Be deadlier. The magic raged with his need. Meka looked from the mans sword, hard into the steel blue eyes. Mekas sword followed the track of his eyes, he heard himself still screaming. The man held his sword straight up, to deflect the blow.
Everything else around the man dissolved in Mekas vision. His anger, the magic, was unleashed like never before. No power on earth could deny him the mans blood.
He finished his arc, the sword coming round at eye height to the side of the mans head. It shattered through the mans sword, and exploded through his chainmail hood, bits of molten twisted metal flying off into the undergrowth. The sword continued its journey, making contact with the mans skull, and continuing through, out the other side of his head.
Bits of bone blood and brain flew up into the air as the early morning air was filled with a cloud of red mist. Steaks of blood covered Meka, dripped down his body, dribbled off his sword as he slowly lowered the point to the ground.
The mans body crumpled slowly to the ground, blood pumping out over the ground, mixing with the puddles already there. Meka could feel the cold mist help cool his body.
“Meka!” Meka awoke, a sheen of sweat over his whole body. “Meka, my brother, are you alright?” asked Grix.
“It was that dream.”
“Again?” Meka nodded in reply.
“Come on, get up, we have to meet the others soon.”
“Who?”
“You know, the others from the village. Dan2K1, Venombyte and Ant.”
“What about er-no, and YH?”
“They said they had something to do. They will meet us later.” Grix helped his brother to sit up.
“Ok, give me a few minutes." Grix nodded and left the room. Meka put his head in his hands as he thought about the dream.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Master Meister?” FM looked around.
“Yes?”
“I have some bad news Lord, about Sniper.”
“He hasn’t dies again has he?”
“Yes Lord, he fell off his horse.”
“How did that kill him?”
“Into the moat.”
“He can swim.”
“Yes Lord, but as he tried to climb out, he must have pulled the lever, the one you ordered put in?”
“I vaguely remember.”
“That let the piranhas in.”
“Ah. I should have expected something like this. He has a whole bloody palace to have his accidents in. I put all that sponge about so he wouldn’t hurt himself, and yet he falls into the piranha moat. Amazing. Nevermind, he will be back by now. Tell him to continue with his task. Tell him to be more careful next time.”
FM was standing in a simple square room, with four braziers, one in each corner, all burning different colours. These weren’t normal flames however, as they did not give off coloured light, and the room remained smokeless, with a white light seeming to emanate from the walls and floor, with no shadows forming. In the middle of the room were two pedestals, about four feet apart. On top of them was a box. In it was FM’s father. FM turned as the guard stopped, bowing.
“Master.” Said Sniper, raising his head, looking into FM’s cold, hard eyes.
“You have your mission? You are ready to leave?”
“Yes Master.”
“Good.” FM turned back to look at the coffin, licking his fingers and rubbings his eyebrows again as he spoke. “This is just the first part my friend. I will have my revenge, I do not know when, but I will/”
“Yes Master.” There was an edge of concern in Snipers voice.
“What is wrong, my friend?”
“I do not know, Master. I think I am worrying with no reason.”
“Ah. You are concerned about the book, yes?” Sniper lowered his eyes. “Do not fear. I will find the book. MY magic grows with each passing month, soon I will have the power needed to find the book. Then, when it is mine, I will have unimaginable power!” FM felt a shiver run up his spine as he closed his eyes, imagining the power he would wield. He looked at Sniper. “You have your orders.”
“Yes Master Meister.”
“Go. Be swift, and do not fail me.” Sniper turned and left the room.
FM turned back to the coffin. As he walked around it, his fingers traced the inscription carved into the stone. He knew them all, word for word, but their feel comforted him. They were instructions on how to travel the underworld.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Wrath exploded through Meka’s mind. He screamed “No!” in a murderous rage as he leapt off the rock. With both hands he brought the sword up while still in mid-air. When he hit the ground he recoiled, swinging it around from behind in an arc. The sword whistled with its speed. The man had turned as Meka hit the ground. Seeing Meka coming, he brought his own sword up defensively, with lightning speed.
Meka watched as if in a dream as his sword come around. Every ounce of his strength went into trying to make the sword go truer, go faster. Be deadlier. The magic raged with his need. Meka looked from the mans sword, hard into the steel blue eyes. Mekas sword followed the track of his eyes, he heard himself still screaming. The man held his sword straight up, to deflect the blow.
Everything else around the man dissolved in Mekas vision. His anger, the magic, was unleashed like never before. No power on earth could deny him the mans blood.
He finished his arc, the sword coming round at eye height to the side of the mans head. It shattered through the mans sword, and exploded through his chainmail hood, bits of molten twisted metal flying off into the undergrowth. The sword continued its journey, making contact with the mans skull, and continuing through, out the other side of his head.
Bits of bone blood and brain flew up into the air as the early morning air was filled with a cloud of red mist. Steaks of blood covered Meka, dripped down his body, dribbled off his sword as he slowly lowered the point to the ground.
The mans body crumpled slowly to the ground, blood pumping out over the ground, mixing with the puddles already there. Meka could feel the cold mist help cool his body.
“Meka!” Meka awoke, a sheen of sweat over his whole body. “Meka, my brother, are you alright?” asked Grix.
“It was that dream.”
“Again?” Meka nodded in reply.
“Come on, get up, we have to meet the others soon.”
“Who?”
“You know, the others from the village. Dan2K1, Venombyte and Ant.”
“What about er-no, and YH?”
“They said they had something to do. They will meet us later.” Grix helped his brother to sit up.
“Ok, give me a few minutes." Grix nodded and left the room. Meka put his head in his hands as he thought about the dream.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Master Meister?” FM looked around.
“Yes?”
“I have some bad news Lord, about Sniper.”
“He hasn’t dies again has he?”
“Yes Lord, he fell off his horse.”
“How did that kill him?”
“Into the moat.”
“He can swim.”
“Yes Lord, but as he tried to climb out, he must have pulled the lever, the one you ordered put in?”
“I vaguely remember.”
“That let the piranhas in.”
“Ah. I should have expected something like this. He has a whole bloody palace to have his accidents in. I put all that sponge about so he wouldn’t hurt himself, and yet he falls into the piranha moat. Amazing. Nevermind, he will be back by now. Tell him to continue with his task. Tell him to be more careful next time.”
Page:
...and then all the smart@rses died from a distinct lack of imagination.
Tarrant smiled at the wreckage.
Clearly his attempts to resurrect the story, even if it was to be a solo project, had offended some people. For them to go to these lengths, it seemed quite ridiculous.
Tarrant once again picked up the brutalised story. He'd not given up yet. Though everyone around him seemed reluctant to help, to say the least, Tarrant was capable of taking even this wreck and making something of it.
The other FOG members who had given up on the story couldn't see that there was potential in what Tarrant had written and rather than leave him to his crazy fantasy world, they tried to put the final nail in the coffin.
Perhaps they lacked the neccesary imagination to take the personification of a story and build upon it. Perhaps they just weren't interested?
Still, where either of these points valid reasons for sabotaging Tarrant's rescue mission?
*Tarrant awaits smart @rse comment from someone with a distinct lack of imagination*
Clearly his attempts to resurrect the story, even if it was to be a solo project, had offended some people. For them to go to these lengths, it seemed quite ridiculous.
Tarrant once again picked up the brutalised story. He'd not given up yet. Though everyone around him seemed reluctant to help, to say the least, Tarrant was capable of taking even this wreck and making something of it.
The other FOG members who had given up on the story couldn't see that there was potential in what Tarrant had written and rather than leave him to his crazy fantasy world, they tried to put the final nail in the coffin.
Perhaps they lacked the neccesary imagination to take the personification of a story and build upon it. Perhaps they just weren't interested?
Still, where either of these points valid reasons for sabotaging Tarrant's rescue mission?
*Tarrant awaits smart @rse comment from someone with a distinct lack of imagination*
I think I'll go and write in the real story. It's about time, me thinks.
Grix Thraves wrote:
> ...and then they all died of boredom.
I'm dead, bloody boredom killed me.
> ...and then they all died of boredom.
I'm dead, bloody boredom killed me.
...and then they all died of boredom.
By now it was night time, and in the distance Grix saw the headlights of a van and thought nothing of it until he heard the screeching tyres and they all looked in anticipation at the speeding van, then when the van was about 100 meters away it pulled a 180 leaving the back doors facing towards them, then without warning the doors burst open and 3 men jumped out all in black wearing balaclava’s forming a line formation. Grix and the gang all froze but acted immediately when the words “get down on the fu**ing ground now!” were shouted at them. Now they all lie face down on the cold hard floor when they thought the worst and said prayers in their heads, then the men hauled them from the floor into the back of the van...
...and then died of boredom.
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