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Post by Rider on Jun 28, 2006 19:16:12 GMT -5
[glow=red,2,300]One story, above ground. It's not just the Splatterboard, 'cause we still have different rooms.
Sound fair?[/glow]
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Post by Nimras on Jun 28, 2006 19:18:25 GMT -5
[glow=red,2,300]One story, above ground. It's not just the Splatterboard, 'cause we still have different rooms. Sound fair?[/glow] Works for me. ^^ Especially as I'm not the one who finds it, so it makes no difference. |
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Post by Rider on Jun 28, 2006 19:21:37 GMT -5
[glow=red,2,300]One story, above ground. It's not just the Splatterboard, 'cause we still have different rooms. Sound fair?[/glow] Works for me. ^^ Especially as I'm not the one who finds it, so it makes no difference. [glow=red,2,300]Spot finds a loose window and sneaks out of it, but accidentally jams it shut behind her?[/glow] |
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Post by Nimras on Jun 29, 2006 8:05:13 GMT -5
It doesn't even have to be that complicated... since no one else is there when she finds it, and she dies... no one knows it exists.
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Post by Rider on Jun 29, 2006 8:08:29 GMT -5
It doesn't even have to be that complicated... since no one else is there when she finds it, and she dies... no one knows it exists. [glow=red,2,300]Aha. ^_^; And she didn't tell us before she left, and none of us bothered looking? XDDDD Gotcha. Because intelligence deus-ex-machinas are so much easier.[/glow] |
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Post by Tracy on Jun 29, 2006 10:31:15 GMT -5
RECAP XD
Some of us have a hard time keeping up with this XDDD
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Post by Rider on Jun 29, 2006 10:56:32 GMT -5
RECAP XD Some of us have a hard time keeping up with this XDDD [glow=red,2,300]We've moved the NTWF above ground. It'll take some bending of physical laws to trap us all sufficiently, but it's all good.  The plan's on the actual plan thread, and I'm typing up a quick story-like prologue, if that's okies with the rest of you.[/glow] |
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Post by Rider on Jun 29, 2006 12:45:14 GMT -5
“That was out of line,” Rider murmured, half-heartedly fluffing a pillow. “Way out of line. Stally knows you. You’re a good Meepit. You’d never…”
A picture of the leopard-skin rug rose in Rider’s mind, unbidden. The pirate-girl trembled involuntarily.
The light of a flickering candle cast dancing shadows on the walls of the Art Studio. Papers taped to the wall whispered to each other in the tongues of elves and faeries. Serpents hissed and glittered on canvas. Wraiths flitted in and out of the shadows, each stained deep crimson and waiting like wolves. The hairs on the back of Rider’s neck stood on end.
Rider’s sweaty fingers fumbled with the tie on her cape. She removed her shoes and lifted Ventratta out of her pocket, placing him on the table. “I don’t know how comfortable you’ll be sleeping on canvas,” she said. “Maybe there’s some cloth in here from before the Art Studio/Cosplay board split. We could make you a little blanket! You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Ventratta just stared up at Rider with those big, expressionless eyes.
On the back wall, an Asian dragon grinned wildly on a scarlet banner. His scales were iridescent black, edged with silver. In each of his golden foreclaws, he held a shining bright katana. In each of his hindclaws, he held a grinning human skull.
“You’re right, of course, Ventratta. I don’t trust Stal either. Ooh, felt.” She pulled a roll of blue felt from a shelf and grabbed some scissors so she could cut enough felt for a blanket. She cut a second square and folded it into a small Meepit-sized pillow.
The candle cast Rider’s shadow onto the dragon-banner. Yet there was a glint in the dragon’s eye that should not have been there. A second source of light in the room, Ventratta thought as he stared at the strange glint, or perhaps a figment of his imagination. He had been under a great deal of stress lately, and even Meepits can crack, though their breaking point is much higher than that of a human.
He blinked.
The strange light was gone.
“There we go.” Rider picked Ventratta back up and put him on the floor. She made a little bed for the Meepit, but Ventratta stood rock-still, his eyes fixed on the dragon.
“Ventratta, lie down. It’s okay. It’s just a banner.”
Ventratta continued to stare.
“It’s okay. I know it’s scary.” Rider said. “Here, I’ll turn it around so it faces the wall.”
She walked over to the banner and touched it. Her eyes met the empty sockets of the skull on the left. With splayed fingers, she put her hand on the wall beside the banner and looked up at the riggings. It hung from the ceiling. She might as well just take it down…
The sound of rushing metal, and a sharp wind. Between her middle and index fingers, a shuriken had buried one of its points in the wall. It still vibrated, gently.
“That was a warning shot, captain,” said a familiar voice in the shadows. “The next one won’t miss. Where is your Meepit?”
Slowly, Rider turned around. Though the killer’s face was masked, there was no doubt regarding who it was. “He’s not here,” she lied. It was a stupid lie. The killer could see right through it.
The killer was right. The next shuriken didn’t miss.
That night, the Art Studio burned. The screams of elves and faeries were drowned out by the cackling of the twin skulls. Wreathed in fire, the dragon stood sentinel, his katana reflecting the dancing flames. A tiny pink figure dragged a smoldering red cape into the Splatterboard, his eyes wide with the horror of what he had seen.
So few mods left.
The beginning of the end had come.
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Post by Nimras on Jun 29, 2006 13:22:21 GMT -5
“That was out of line,” Rider murmured, half-heartedly fluffing a pillow. “Way out of line. Stally knows you. You’re a good Meepit. You’d never…” A picture of the leopard-skin rug rose in Rider’s mind, unbidden. The pirate-girl trembled involuntarily. The light of a flickering candle cast dancing shadows on the walls of the Art Studio. Papers taped to the wall whispered to each other in the tongues of elves and faeries. Serpents hissed and glittered on canvas. Wraiths flitted in and out of the shadows, each stained deep crimson and waiting like wolves. The hairs on the back of Rider’s neck stood on end. Rider’s sweaty fingers fumbled with the tie on her cape. She removed her shoes and lifted Ventratta out of her pocket, placing him on the table. “I don’t know how comfortable you’ll be sleeping on canvas,” she said. “Maybe there’s some cloth in here from before the Art Studio/Cosplay board split. We could make you a little blanket! You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Ventratta just stared up at Rider with those big, expressionless eyes. On the back wall, an Asian dragon grinned wildly on a scarlet banner. His scales were iridescent black, edged with silver. In each of his golden foreclaws, he held a shining bright katana. In each of his hindclaws, he held a grinning human skull. “You’re right, of course, Ventratta. I don’t trust Stal either. Ooh, felt.” She pulled a roll of blue felt from a shelf and grabbed some scissors so she could cut enough felt for a blanket. She cut a second square and folded it into a small Meepit-sized pillow. The candle cast Rider’s shadow onto the dragon-banner. Yet there was a glint in the dragon’s eye that should not have been there. A second source of light in the room, Ventratta thought as he stared at the strange glint, or perhaps a figment of his imagination. He had been under a great deal of stress lately, and even Meepits can crack, though their breaking point is much higher than that of a human. He blinked. The strange light was gone. “There we go.” Rider picked Ventratta back up and put him on the floor. She made a little bed for the Meepit, but Ventratta stood rock-still, his eyes fixed on the dragon. “Ventratta, lie down. It’s okay. It’s just a banner.” Ventratta continued to stare. “It’s okay. I know it’s scary.” Rider said. “Here, I’ll turn it around so it faces the wall.” She walked over to the banner and touched it. Her eyes met the empty sockets of the skull on the left. With splayed fingers, she put her hand on the wall beside the banner and looked up at the riggings. It hung from the ceiling. She might as well just take it down… The sound of rushing metal, and a sharp wind. Between her middle and index fingers, a shuriken had buried one of its points in the wall. It still vibrated, gently. “That was a warning shot, captain,” said a familiar voice in the shadows. “The next one won’t miss. Where is your Meepit?” Slowly, Rider turned around. Though the killer’s face was masked, there was no doubt regarding who it was. “He’s not here,” she lied. It was a stupid lie. The killer could see right through it. The killer was right. The next shuriken didn’t miss. That night, the Art Studio burned. The screams of elves and faeries were drowned out by the cackling of the twin skulls. Wreathed in fire, the dragon stood sentinel, his katana reflecting the dancing flames. A tiny pink figure dragged a smoldering red cape into the Splatterboard, his eyes wide with the horror of what he had seen. So few mods left. The beginning of the end had come. Ohhh... I like it. ...poor Ventratta... |
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Post by Rider on Jun 29, 2006 13:31:12 GMT -5
[glow=red,2,300]Don't pity the poor boy too much. He did try to kill Stal. XDDD[/glow]
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Post by Rider on Jul 4, 2006 8:58:12 GMT -5
[glow=red,2,300]Tell me if in either of my pieces, I've gone overboard.[/glow]
Prologue
“True! --nervous --very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses --not destroyed --not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily --how calmly I can tell you the whole story.”
“Wandy, get your nose out of that book and make yourself useful!” Rider snapped, dumping another pile of books onto the Personal Touch floor. “We’re not paying you to sit around and read books.”
“If I remember correctly, we’re not being paid at all,” Wanderer grumbled, adjusting his hat. “We’re just mods being forced to clean while Patjade, Tdyans and the forumers work on their tans.” He placed the old, worn Poe anthology on the table.
“Well, the sooner we get this done, the sooner we can be on that island with them,” Ikkin said sensibly. “Has anyone seen Spot?”
“She’s in the Tabloid Shop, taking inventory,” Stal said, lifting one end of a bookshelf. “Rider, come get the other end of this.”
“Make a man do it,” Rider said, searching for the vacuum cleaner.
“I am making a man do it.”
“Har-de-har-har.” Rider rolled her eyes. “Wandy, go help Stal move the bookshelf.”
“Isn’t this the eighth time today she’s taken inventory of that shop?” Wandy asked, hastily changing the subject.
“She keeps muttering about errors and stuff,” Nimras said. “She’s in denial.”
“Denial about what?” Meowth asked. Having decided that fur was impractical in the summer heat, Meowth had switched to her human form, Killix. It would keep her cool, at least until the full moon. Oh, and she had to be careful of silver.
“Somebody stole something from the shop.” Nimras said grimly.
An awkward silence settled upon the room like fog.
“It was obviously something important, or Spot wouldn’t try to keep it a secret from us,” Nimras said. “She doesn’t want us to worry, I think.”
“She keeps so many magical objects in that shop… Geez, why shouldn’t we worry?” Mindy asked, stretching. “Didn’t she take inventory right after the forumers left?”
“And she seemed calm enough then,” Wandy said. “Hey, you don’t think… a mod might have stolen something?”
“Less talk, more work,” Rider said, fumbling with the switch of the vacuum. “The might of the DustBuster shall consume the souls of petty thieves!”
The silence that followed this statement was less like a fog and more like an ellipsis.
In the Splatterboard, a radio crackled to life. “Attention, Mother Bird, come in Mother Bird. The Seawolf is within sight of land.”
Tracy, who was in the Splatterboard with a mop, picked up the radio microphone. “Buddy, stop calling us the Mother Bird. It’s a bit strange.”
“But it’s so cool,” said Ducky. Her voice was a bit distorted over the radio, but no one else clung to Buddy quite as tightly as she did. “Hey, I think I can see the scantily-clad natives from here!”
Tracy groaned and handed the microphone to Stal.
“Whatever, you’re just supposed to drop everyone off at the island and come straight home,” Stal said. “No flirting with the scantily-clad nati- Rider! That’s my Yuki hat!”
“I don’t know how to turn this thing off!” Rider yelled, fumbling with the vacuum. “I don’t exactly clean house often.”
“Get my hat out of that- Buddy,” he said, turning back to the radio, “You don’t have to report back to us unless there’s an emergency. If you keep abusing the radio, you’re going to break it.”
“But the shiny buttons!”
“Look, Buddy, this is Thundy’s ship and that is Thundy’s radio. And Patjade cannot be held legally responsible if you break the radio or crash the ship into an iceberg or something.”
There was a loud squawking on the other end, probably Ducky feigning injured innocence, but it was hard to tell in the static.
“Don’t worry, Stal, we’re fine,” Buddy said. “Well, Mother Bird, we’ll contact you if the need arises. Over and out.”
“Does he ever get tired of that?” Tracy asked, putting the microphone down.
“He’s overly concerned with appearances,” Crystal said. “He’s like a pirate in that respect. He’d rather look the part than be the part.”
“Take that back,” Rider demanded angrily, prying one of the Yuki hat’s ears from the all-consuming jaws of the DustBuster. “You ninja are just as pretentious as we are.”
Crystal made a small, offended noise in the back of her throat. “Take a look at your outfit, and then talk to me.”
Rider stormed off, perhaps to go to the Ninja HQ and subject Crystal’s kimonos to the same fate as the Yuki hat.
Ikkin sniffed the air, the hairs on her fox-tail sticking up straight. “Can anyone smell that?”
“Clean air?” Crystal asked. “I mean, I’m sure you don’t get a lot of that, hanging around Rider as much as you do.”
“It might not be a physical scent. It might be more… magical. Wandy, can you smell it?”
Wanderer’s nose was again buried in the Poe anthology. He wagged his tails in what was presumably agreement; at least, Ikkin seemed to take it as such.
“Coming from the Underdeep?” Stal asked.
“No, it’s more like it’s… in the forum. In the walls around us.” Carefully, as if expecting an electric jolt, she placed her hand on the wall. “The walls are waiting for something.”
The pause that followed this was less like an ellipsis and more like an aura. An aura that smelled like sweaty, nervous fox.
“Well,” Mindy said sensibly, “If they’re waiting for some work to get done around here, they shouldn’t hold their breath. Come on, guys. Patjade wants this place so clean we could eat off the floorboards!”
Wanderer tumbled off of his chair and onto the floor. He, too, felt that the house was waiting. A steady rhythm in every plank of wood and every stone and brick. A rhythm waiting to be broken, like the beating of a heart.
[glow=red,2,300]I plan on creating the board and posting this puppy on Saturday morning, or on Friday if I can get away with it.[/glow]
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Post by Killix on Jul 4, 2006 18:35:47 GMT -5
That should probably be: Meowth had switched to her human form, Killix.
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Post by Rider on Jul 4, 2006 18:43:32 GMT -5
That should probably be: Meowth had switched to her human form, Killix. [glow=red,2,300]Yes ma'am ^_^[/glow] |
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Post by The Wanderer on Jul 4, 2006 23:56:16 GMT -5
I like my role, because I dont have to do anything. I just kill people. =D
Conscience? Remorse? Morals? That stuff is for pansies...
MEGALOMANIACAL PSYCHOPATH! HOOOOOOOOOO!
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Post by Rider on Jul 6, 2006 10:43:37 GMT -5
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