BTR: Cheshire Moon Part 2A crowded, bleached-white room, filled with people in brown clothing. This could easily be confused with a scene of the birth of an infant. But this was no birth. This was not the beginning of a life; this was its ending.I looked over the pale corpse, but I didn't even need an expert explanation as to what this was – the story had been repeated throughout my kingdom over and over. This was another case of an inexplicable death. Two hundred people in the past month had had their hearts stop suddenly, deceased. Very Death Note.I shook my head violently. Still, as Emorion fell at my feet, I was preoccupied with my dreams. I could almost
Back To Reality: Cheshire MoonI HATE farmers; they taste of pears (which I also hate) and their minds are simple – it's like someone entered into their heads beforehand and sucked any flavour and flair from them. But I guess if you're starving, you stop caring about how something tastes. After all, the subjugation of a "sentient" (note the sarcasm quotes) species does not come easily on an empty stomach.I slowly moved a dark brown bang from my sight with a single taloned digit, an impossibly wide and wolfish grin spreading across my pale face, which was now tinted blood red by my glowing eyes. This was the reason I was hunting farmers to ease my little stomach pain
BOR C7: Demons From Above"You can only come to the morning through the shadows." – J.R.R TolkienMartarj and Zarak spent that night in silence, the only part of New Riza visible being the tip of the highest ruined skyscraper."So, what are Damekiirs?" Martarj asked at last."Talking to me again, are we?" Zarak snapped. He still had not gotten over the previous night's events."Yes, we are," Martarj snapped back. "So?" Zarak sighed and fished his portable laptop out of his pocket. He scrolled through various images, and quickly averted his gaze when he arrived at the image he was searching for. His head still turned away, Zarak handed it to Martarj. It took M
BOR C6: Memories By Fireside"There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in presentgrief." – AeschylusWhen Zarak finally regained consciousness, he saw that he was laying face-down on a riverbank. Its water was dried up, save for a steady trickle that quickly turned into mud. Zarak then felt heat at his back, and turned around to see Martarj sitting cross-legged on the barren ground, staring at the fire that he had built. When Martarj saw that Zarak had woken up, he gave a small smile and said:"You're really heavy, you know – carried you only half a mile and my arms were ready to fall off." Martarj looked back to the fire, and Zarak saw with a pang
BORC5:Man In The Emerald Cloak"But what is all this fear of and opposition to Oblivion? What is the matter with the soft Darkness, the Dreamless Sleep?" – James ThurberZarak and Martarj walked through the archway, and Zarak looked to Martarj, whose expression was one of utter and complete excitement, an absolute contrast to Zarak's strange look of both fear and barely contained rage. Martarj jumped and his smile fell as the torches at either side of the cavern suddenly lit up. Pulling Martarj after him, Zarak rushed into a corner shrouded by darkness. Zarak and Martarj stood there for an entire minute, their shoulders raised like the hackles of a threatened fox in
BOR:R C5: The Purge"No one can demand that you be neutral toward the crime of genocide. If there is a judge in the whole world who can be neutral toward this crime, that judge is not fit to sit in judgment." – Gideon Hausner"They're getting restless." Martarj observed. "Soon their hunger will overcome their other instincts. We need to get moving." Zarak noticed the edge to Martarj's voice, the fearful edge, and managed to tear his gaze away from Drakul and start running. Despite his head start, Martarj and Drakul caught up quickly."For Zapren's sake…if you're going to jog, at least give the boxes to someone who is running." Drakul spat. Zarak turn
BOR:R C3: Waking Eyes"Dying is not romantic, and death is not a game which will soon be over... Death is not anything... death is not... It's the absence of presence, nothing more... the endless time of never coming back... a gap you can't see, and when the wind blows through it, it makes not sound..." - Tom StoppardZarak felt the two boxes in his pockets. They seemed heavy despite their small size, like two massive boulders, weighing down his entire being. As they walked from Drakul's castle, Zarak felt like dropping them to the ground and allowing them to be buried by snow and the sands of time. But he knew that he could not do that. He knew that this was the
BOR:R C2: Drakul"…Death is the obscene mystery, the ultimate affront, the thing that cannot be controlled. It can only be denied." – Susan SontagWhen the moons were high in the sky, their glow barely matching that of the crystal's, Zarak and Martarj reached the peak, and they craned their necks and gawped in awe at the ominous, towering and ruined castle that loomed over them. Its spires touched the sky, the tattered remains of black flags hanging on rusty poles barely moving in the midnight air. The bricks that still remained attached to the castle had been made with the utmost care, while the bricks that lay strewn about the snow shone with ice
BOR:R C1: Apilos Alps"Racism is a refuge for the ignorant. It seeks to divide and to destroy. It is the enemy of freedom, and deserves to be met head-on and stamped out." – Pierre BertonThey touched down when the sun had set, and the moment they touched the ground, Martarj's knees gave way, and he landed face-first on the snow, panting. Zarak didn't say a word – he was transfixed by Martarj's pitch-black wings, which were limp, their black feathers all the darker against the whiteness of the snow which encased the mountain they were now on. Snow fell lightly, and as the suns were setting, the glare of them against the white snow was not overly intense
SpotlightThank you for the times we had.Yet our times are not over yet.Just dream of meEvermore.See me in the spotlightStanding there with you.Level with meOn the eve of our discontent.Vast lands are before us now.Enter the horizon with me.Young as we are, weOpen the sky together.Upon the eve of our discontentJust dream of meEvermore.See me in the spotlightStanding there with you.In the end, all we have is each other.Under this uncaring sky.Never has it rained so hard,Downpour of your tears.Ever the final wind blows, never ending,Rippling before our eyes.Step behind me. I'll hold The torch that leads us
Hell is My Stage - 1.1-1.4Hell Is My Stage(And All the Damned are my Back-Ups)ACT ONESCENE 1(A blackboard stands downstage centre, and desks are laid out before it – the CHORUS, dressed in private school uniforms, sit on the desks and chairs, chatting like typical teenagers. KEN CRUCIFIX enters upstage R., at this stage unnoticed by his peers. HEX HOLDEN's voice booms like a voice from heaven) HEX. Ken Crucifix of Marple Middle School was really no-one to talk about – he was weedy, scab-ridden from all that pimple-scratching, and wore glasses that while not thick-rimmed, were almost square and did nothing for his appearance. He wasn't br
Taking A ChanceEach day, we dream of possibilities.What if we ourselves could fly?What if those societies had never faded into the dust?What if we had never emerged from the water?But these hypothetical ideasWe could never put into play.But that which we could control, To think back to it and say 'what if?'That is true pain.
SOC: The EndMy end is not dying.The day I end will be when I give up.When my voice becomes a croakAnd my wrists snap as I write,When my eye cannot look to the bottoms of oceans,My legs stand at my sides,And my heart lies tattered and bruised.The day I end...Will be the day I let that stop me.
SOC: Sweet DamselImagine the damsel.Imagine the beasts snapping at her heels.Would she stand to feel the bites, the poison?No, she would flee.Flee, sweet damsel, to the rolling meadows.Peace. Silence. Purgatory.But still the beasts follow,Hungry for your blood.Flee, sweet damsel, to your castle.Have your guard take arms.Take arms yourself.Still, the beasts pursue.Flee, sweet damsel, to your cell.Clutch your ears, turn your back.Listen not to the beasts' roars.But that does not stop the poison.Flee, sweet damsel, to the swamp.Hold your head under the water.Try and cleanse the poison,Drown the beasts, escape everything.Fl
SOC: FinalityIThe First had red hair, and her eyes glittered with dark ice.While her hair blazed like fire, the body it stood upon was ice.Never melting, never giving,Afraid to let the raging seas within create a single tide.The coldness extended, and my fire for her froze as well.IIThe Second looked at me from under a curtain of stars that she had woven herself.It descended along her back, and two blue moons gazed at me, shining in the darkness.But not even a ring would have swayed her resolve...Her choice was made.IIIThe Third was a Charm.I took my chances, moved my pieces across the board she created for me.Yet this red quee
SOC: The Perfect WomanMan can no more conquer the seaThan conquer the wild, untameable thing,That roaring, unknowable beast - woman.From his antiquity, man has striven to knowWhat is a woman at perfection?What is a woman's beauty in the eye of every beholder?Kindness? Yes, but little more than conformity to context,And a liquid constructLooks? Yes, but to behold 'beauty' is to behold time.You grow weary of knowing it, and it continues nevertheless until it wears with you.Sensuality? Yes, but it may be that a woman who easily shows this to one,Often shows it to many.The perfect woman, reader, may be one of these things.She may be all, but
SOC: Face ValueIt is not a new concept,Nor is it one exclusiveTo me, exceptMy cries seem to be the ones that, like liquid through the holes of a seive,People only take at face value.What a disgust that they themselves callNot for aid, but for chortles from the crowd.I, too, would like those smiles, like to stand tall.All I gain for my troubles is: 'you're speaking too loud'.How I would wish that, too.To speak loud enough that I can finally be heard.To open my mouth and not rueThe thought that I attempted to put to word.I can hear them now...The weirdo, the gay, the not-so-good-looking, there.Does it matter to them if I preen, v
Hell Is My Stage 1.2 - Brains ACT ONESCENE TWO(Two streetlights stand at either end of the stage, and the backdrop is of an alleyway. KEN enters stage L., bag slung over his shoulder, his head down, his uniform scrappy and covered in the dust from the chalk. He then stares at the sky – gradually, everything is tinted bright red by the lights, before...)(With the sound of a crashing plane and a flash of white light, debris is strewn across the ground before KEN. He jumps back, avoiding the rocks, before peering offstage to see the origin. From offstage, one spindly leg appears. This leg pulls into view the zombie musician of Hell – MATTHEW MACABRE. The int
Hell Is My Stage Act 1 Scene 1ACT ONESCENE 1(A blackboard stands downstage centre, and desks are laid out before it – the CHORUS, dressed in private school uniforms, sit on the desks and chairs, chatting like typical teenagers. KEN CRUCIFIX enters upstage R., at this stage unnoticed by his peers. HEX HOLDEN's voice booms like a voice from heaven) HEX. Ken Crucifix of Marple Middle School was really no-one to talk about – he was weedy, scab-ridden from all that pimple-scratching, and wore glasses that while not thick-rimmed, were almost square and did nothing for his appearance. He wasn't bright, he wasn't strong, he wasn't fast, he wasn't good-
Character Situation Meme- choose 10 charas from somewhere you know.- Don't have to tag anyone, only if you want to- Please link back! I want to see what you've done. ;3Have fun!Okay, I'm gonna go with my OCs...1) Lancon Darmen2) Ardera Karmon3) Magiel4) Nimbus Fira III5) Zarak6) Martarj7) Drakul8) Aurelia9) Owst10) Uzael1) If 5 wanted to go out with 3 or 7, who would it be?Well, if Zarak were gay, he'd probably go for Magiel, who's either gay or bisexual - it's not really clear. If he tried to ask Drakul out, Drakul would probably poison his face.2) 9 asks 2 to kiss 4. 4's reaction?Now that's just WRONG. One, dragons don't have li
Deep in Thought - 100TCThe city was alight below me. I sat, my red-and-gold coat flailing in the high-altitude gust while I sat motionless atop the chapel precipice. I knew, I had always thought, that when I lost the one I loved, when I found myself alone, that I would be filled with one of two things:A) A screaming, impossible sadness. One that eventually overflowed until, breaking my ever-present façade, it was let loose upon the world in a downpour. I imagined the salt stinging my broken lips and the tears leaving their footprints down my cheeks.ORB) The world crumbling around me, and in my efforts to keep the world up, becoming more and more bitter,
Perm and Huntrious Info SheetName: - Huntrious Grout / PermAge: - 85Gender:- MaleRace/Species:- Dwarf / Dark DwarfBirthday:- UnknownCurrent Residence: - J'ustpacHobbies/Pastimes: - Telling jokes, drinking / poisoning people, magickingTalents/Skills/Powers:- Hand-to-hand combat skills - Magic - PoisonHeight: - 5'1"Skin: - Pink / BlackHair: - BaldEyes: - Brown / Bright RedDistinguishing features: - Regular tavern gear / black hooded robe- Beard - white / blackWeapons: - None / DaggerGreatest fear: - Losing customers / UzaelOther Fears/Insecurities/Phobias: - N/ALikes: - Beer / Murdering PeopleDislike
Magiel Information SheetName: - MagielAge: - 20Gender:- MaleRace/Species:- HumanBirthday:- 4th NevrosCurrent Residence: - Nowhere - he travels.Hobbies/Pastimes: - Acting- Singing- Dancing- Sparring- MagickingTalents/Skills/Powers:- MagicHeight: - 6'1"Skin: - WhiteHair: - Blonde- CurlyEyes: - BlueDistinguishing features: - Red Coat- No shirt (due to lack of fire-resistant shirts)- Tight Black PantsWeapons: - Twin swords- RevolverGreatest fear: - Not being remembered once he dies.Other Fears/Insecurities/Phobias: - Being booed off stage.Likes: - Food- Anything to do with the arts.Dis
Nimbus Information SheetName: - Nimbus Fira IIIAge: - 151Gender:- MaleRace/Species:- Seliphros DragonBirthday:- UnknownCurrent Residence: - J'ustpacHobbies/Pastimes: - None - his past has not allowed him such luxuries.Talents/Skills/Powers:- Ice Breath- FlightHeight: - 3' tall, 5' long (from nose to tail)Skin: - SilverHair: - NoneEyes: - Purple and aqua blueDistinguishing features: - White horns- WingsWeapons: - Claws, teethGreatest fear: - UzaelOther Fears/Insecurities/Phobias: - N/ALikes: - Hasn't found anything to like.Dislikes:- Everything.Favorite Color: - N/AFavorite Place:- Anyw
Lancon Information SheetName: - Lancon DarmenAge: - 18Gender:- MaleOrientation:- StraightRace/Species:- HumanBirthday:- Merjart 22nd (See Battle of Ragnarok: Elf of Rock)Current Residence: - J'ustpacHobbies/Pastimes: - Treasure hunting - Playing the piano - Magicking.Talents/Skills/Powers:- MagicHeight: - 6'2"Skin: - Slightly-tanned WhiteHair: - Red- Spiky due to magic overload in teenage sorcerers. Clears up at about 19 years old.Eyes: - Electric BlueDistinguishing features: - No shirt - only cape.- Wears a backpack that can fit as much as you want inside it.- Spiky red hair.- Purple gloves.- Long
Introduction - 100TC"What the hell have you done?!" Drakul screamed, his black shotgun boring into my temple."Drakul, get off him," Zarak ordered, directing his own rifle at Drakul's forehead. "If we're going to get through this, then we're going to have to work as equals." Drakul didn't budge. His topaz eyes still drilled into the very core of my soul, poisoning it, strangling it. "That means... get the hell off him before vampire brains get on the table." Drakul, after a moment's hesitation, returned the gun to his belt, his eyes still shooting daggers."Thanks for that," I said to Zarak, sitting down."No problem." He replied, sitting down as well, albeit
Sta.sh
