Xaious, Master of Time

Clank. Clenk. Clank. Clack. Clank. Clenk. One by one, the geld dropped from a well-practiced and scaled hand, into a shiny pile of their brethren. "Two hundred and forty. I think itsss time for a new....scheme..." The overgrown lizard licked his lips ponderously for a few minutes, before an idea popped into his head. After carefully shoving his geld into a bag, the almost dragon reached into his desk and pulled out his trusty Almost Dragonic Brand Intercommunication Audio-Input Device, and after a batting away a brief concern that it just might not work, proceeded to press its big red button and issue forth his newest scheme... "Salutationsss, loyal ssubje...Citizensss. Last nights storm send you running for your livesss? Living your dayss in fear of the skiesss? Are you worried about other people.... PEEKING into your thoughts and dreamsss!?" The almost dragon stifled a chuckle. "Then you need the Almost Dragonic Brand Personal Anti-Storm and Pre-Emptive Anti-Mental-Offensive-Strike Headgear! Guaranteed to Keep your head dry and your mind unoccupied! And it can be yours for the low low price of only ten easy payments of twenty five Geld! But wait, there's more! If you order RIGHT NOW, your P.A.S.P.E.A.N.M.O.S. Headgear will be delivered directly to you in its own, handcrafted "C.A.R.D." Bored Box! What are you waiting for, don't think, ORDER NOW!" After releasing the button, the over-grown lizard leaned back into his chair, grinning. He'd just made what had to have been the single most perfect sales pitch ever, and by the use of his I.A.I.D., everyone within at least two Almost Dragonic Miles had to have heard him! Now, all there was for him to do was to let the Geld roll in. And hatch new schemes. And prepare some Almost Dragonic Brand L.E.G.A.L. Documents proving himself unaccountable for countless complaints regarding "broken windows" and "busted eardrums." Soon, there was a knocking on his door... __________________________________________________ (OoC): Alrighty, your turns

(OoC: Go here for a list of available characters. In this thread, we all take turns writing short stories with other people's characters. This is your catalyst...[i'll be hopping into the actual story-writing action after work tomorrow.]) ----------------------------------------------------- It was a dark and stormy night at the Keep of the Mighty Pen. The night sky flashed frequently, furiously framed through innumerable windows, the thunder rolling consistently through the night. Many suffered troubled sleep, and the few who could, slept fitfully, their dreams invaded by figures indescribable. As the storm troubled on, numerous Pennites sought an answer for the strange storm, before eventually being taken over by dreary drowsings. Those who chanced a glance out the windows beheld a night black as pitch, where no stars burned, norr moon glowing, and even the courtyard was dark. Yet in the distance floated a cloud, amorphous and gargantuan, fuzzy-edged and ominous in appearance. A cloud exhibiting the most curious self-luminescence, gray-brown tinted heavily green, the shade of death born of the swamps. And the few who lingered conscious long enough discerned its lazy trek towards the mighty Keep. The flashings and thunderings continued throughout the night, though no one once saw lightning, from the cloud nor elsewhere, and the thunder seemed to come from the very hearts of the weary. When morning came around, as the many Pennites awoke, few could recall the storm, and fewer understood why they fell asleep in such odd locations and situations. But all knew something was different...

For lo and behold, I shall begin us a thread in which we can act upon this idea, and write our short stories. Heck, I've even come up with a veritable "catalyst" for some reasons to start things =D Look for it in the Conservatory... ( I think that's where it'd make the most sense...)

*coughbumpcough*Here ya go =P http://felinial-hippie.deviantart.com/art/...Bucus-129807533 for if that doesn't work...

Dead

McNinja

Tomahawk

Nazombie

Chimichanga

Dance

Achtung

Broken

Wok

Butter

I'd kinda like to see what could be written with either of my characters. I think Nickoli might be the more fun one

A little startled, Nickoli grinned. "It will come to pass." He said, wearing a curious smirk.

I'd stick with seeing and consequently pointing out the bright side of everything. Not always appreciated at funerals, though...

"...Nick, did you bring any friends with you...." Xaious raised an eyebrow at his pale friend. "Nay. And besides, they don't breathe that poorly." Nickoli drew his sharp, purple daggers. "Ah, as I figured. Remind me, later, to ask Wyv why there's a minotaur running loose in my quarters. Or rather, when was there a minotaur in my quarters." Xaious drew forth his longsword, as the hallway was no place for his more preferred weapon, while Nickoli motioned for silence. As the two looked around, the room didn't seem to do anything for a few minutes. Nick's head picked up, and he turned to their right. As they watched the hallway, it shifted again, and suddenly, Xaious could feel the beast's hot breath on the back of his neck. Slowly, he turned around. It was no ordinary minotaur, that much was true. Shorter than the average, but built like a dwarf and covered in moldy gray scales that may have, at one time, been armor. It's breath a putrid cloud of disease, the beast respired not of necessity, but as a mockery of the natural order. "Cattle-man Zombie....le sigh" Nick whispered quietly, as the cow-man raised it's rotten meaty fist into the air. Faster than a blink, he stepped through the shadows, and expertly placed one dagger into the creatures lower spine, and one in its neck, separating vertebrae. The mass of rotting flesh fell to the ground. "Well, Nick, once again you showcase your incredible skill at anti-climaxing." Xaious laughed. The room shifted. Nickoli fell to the floor, a terrible weight slamming into his back. The minotaur zombie was gone, but in its place, a live one in shimmering scale armor had just slammed into the rogue with nothing less than excessive force. "Well, looks like it's my turn, old chum." Xai grinned, giving his sword a quick spin. "I could use the practice, anyways." The minotaur cracked its knuckles, and Xaious thrusted his sword out to where the beasts innards should have been, would have been, had the room not shifted again. "So, we fight it's corpse, we fight it's ...not corpse..." Nick mused as he stood up, looking around. "Fighting in the past, the present, and the slightly less distant past. This is peculiar." The time mage stroked his goatee thoughtfully. "Ah, my room is back. Let's hurry." Reaching into the room, Xaious pulled out his glaive, and the two began sprinting for the upper levels. As they ran, they could each have sworn to have heard a loud, poisonous huffing behind them.

All around, the keep rumbled and grumbled as the onslaught shook the ancient home to its roots and beyond. Somewhere in the deepest and darkest recesses of the ancient castle, an old broom closet stood, door slightly ajar, with a faint gleam of torch-light reflecting off of a large mirror, providing the room with its only light. Any nearby rats in the walls may have heard a faint "poof", followed by a moderate hacking cough and a crash as someone spontaneously appeared in the old closet, only to find that there were now brooms, mops, and buckets suddenly occupying his old living space. "For the love of...I should have seen that coming." Once more the Keep of the Pen shook at the excessively forceful announcements of incoming "visitors". "Oh....well, I guess I got here just in time..." The man chuckled to himself. He turned his head quickly, a faint shuffle where his old 'bed' had been. "Oh...Guess I should have known you'd take up residence here. How goes it, Nick?" "Well as could be, I suppose. After your little 'event', I slipped on down here. Everything's in order, and after a month, no one came down here to check on things." The rogue lounged on the small bed, arms crossing his chest. "Well, I suppose that would be about what was to be expected" He smiled a little. The ground shook again. "Oh yes, visitors... What do we know about them?" "Ah, nothing yet, far as I know, save that they started attacking not long before you arrived. Also, I sense a similarity between some of them and myself." Nickoli stretched a bit, sat up. "You mean... the Dead? Ah, yes....the walking dead..." "Yup." The man who had just arrived smiled, laughed a little. "Well then, seems I've returned just in time. Prepare your daggers. The time for blood may be drawing nigh." The two gathered their weapons about them and left the room. "You know, I think you're losing touch, man." Nickoli laughed, patting him gently on the back. " 'may be time', What, why back in the day, you had no questions of 'when' things would happen." "Yeah, and you used to not leave a trail of flesh." "..shut up..."

"How many times have I been here before..." Fingers cradling his chin, he pondered lightly aloud. It was dark, indeed. Only four faint lights burned low near his subject, the room mirrored his soul, his mood. Gently he passed his hands over the smooth skin of his work. "So vivid, such....such lively color...." A sense of longing came over him, he smiled briefly. The creator lorded over his new piece, a beauty laid gently and masterfully upon a carefully smoothed canvas, painted now vibrant red and pale white. Wet, cold, dripping. "Perhaps...perhaps you will be the one to...You will be the one to....to... Perhaps, you will be my success." Eying the curves of the piece, his heart tinged with pride. Turning sharply from the canvas and his work, he strode purposefully across the floor, to his last work. With intent of decay towards the failure, streaked fresh crimson across the middle of the older work and tore at it. "FAILURE!" He shouts, "A bloody failure, I will not have it!" With vigor again, striding across the room, flipping switches. Lights buzzed to life, and suddenly the room was well lit. The new subjected canvas yet crimson and pale white, and yet most well lighted thing in all the studio. "Tonight....I finish.." A smile on his face. "Tonight, I do it, at long last. I succeed! Tomorrow... tomorrow I shall gain my fame!" Flipping one last switch, the buzzing of the lights and wires came to be a loud droning, and then just as quickly, the room went silent. The lights, dead. Only three candles remained lit from before. "....No?..." His eyes widened. "But....but...NO!? NO?!" Yelled in frustration, he ran to the new work, and collapsed on it. Three candles went out, room bathed in the black silence of death and despair. Arms of a pale death wrapped around him, a chilling embrace of love. His eyes opened. "...my..." His eyes widened, his heart leaping. "My...god...." Strength returning, he stood again, gently running his hands along his newest work. His first real success. She smiled back.

Indeed. Happy Birthday, Wyvy.

Search for a display name of "Scout Nickoli", that should bring up an account with a display picture of some guy in a black shirt with lengthy hair. If you decide to add me, mention this site and your name here, cause I typically ignore/delete invites from people I don't know too well/at all.

So. No damage to my house, or apartment, not nearly as much damage as could have been, thanks to it's downgrading to a Cat 2 by the time it hit, though lots of trees and power lines got knocked down. That being said, I'm yet at my aun't house, and it wil be 4 to 6 weeks before power is restored to many portions of South Louisiana. Here's hoping I can survive that length of time in a house that, until yesterday, had 22 people, 3 dogs, and 2 cats, and is now down to 11 people, 2 babies, and 3 dogs... On the bright side, the longer I stay here, the more creative I'm feeling, though the lack of constant internet's annoying.

So as you may or may not know, there's a hurricane "threatening" South Louisiana, and, well, that's my home. I haven't been around much, I wish to change that at some point in the future, but whether or not that time is near, I wanted to make sure that you did not all worry your wonderful heads off. We're going hole up somewhere safe. I will return, someday, with more works. <3