A story I've been writing, mostly for fun...

[Dallas Alvis II]

Read first before people get all stupid-like...

This thread is about bits of this story I have been writing for fun with paranormal, futuristic with some post-apocalypse elements in it. No, I don't care if you think its stupid. If you think its lame, then don't read it. If you don't like it? Well, guess what? I don't really care if you like it. I like it.

All of these segments are rough drafts and I haven't grammar checked or otherwise proof-read any of this so intently, yet. I like writing a lot of core material first, then stop to read it over to make corrections and revisions.

Another thing to note is that, I don't write from beginning to end, I bounce around the plot a lot and write what first comes to mind. Meaning that I may write the last chapter of the book first if it comes to me before the beginning does. Again, I make those changes after I have written enough material that satisfies me for the time being and later re-organize everything.

Of course I respect criticism and ideas with open arms, if anyone reads this...I just don't like people trolling other peoples threads just because they can and have nothing better to do until somethings good on TV or whatnot. So if you are a troll, just go back under the bridge where you belong, alright?

Finally, the topic is called "A story I've been writing, mostly for fun". KEY WORDS: "mostly"...."fun". Please don't make me dumb it down for anyone any more than that.

EDIT: Special note for those who didn't get it: This is just making fun of my old "Hitman" thread I made forever ago. That wasn't really meant to be taken seriously. Apparently, I'm the only one who remembers that topic...well, the only one that is still in the Pavillion that participated in it. Thanks to their critique, I feel that I have grown as a creative writer.

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This was the first segment I wrote about a month or so ago. Not my favorite bit but it was what came to mind.
Edit: I did clean up some of this after I wrote it originally, but I am leaving this open as I have not exactly figured out which direction to go with it..
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Alex rose back to his feet, eyes locked to his attacker. His old enemy, Desperaux, stood unshaken and had alread taken his full form. Two foes were united in yet another clash and they both knew only one would walk away alive this time.

Inside him, Alex could feel Hollie's essence fading from him, and his power with it. Desperaux was aware of this, as like Alex, he is an Empath and was only as powerful as his memories and feelings were. "You still don't understand do you, boy?..." the fiendish figure bellowed underneath that freakish armor, "...This is MY destiny!" Hurling his sword at a speed that would have surely sliced the dazed hero in two.

Alex spurred into action, leaping high into the air to avoid the spinning blade as he landed on a nearby ledge. Eastern Fury, his sheathed katana, was calling out to him. He let out a sigh as he could see the energy imitting as a faint glow of amber light embraced the hilt.

I can't. Not until his heart is exposed.

Those red eyes of hell burned at him from beneath Desperaux's visor. He could feel Desperaux's hatred; an overbearing weight of malice and torment that few ordinary humans could withstand. It even slowed the hero's momentum for once.

Where the hell did he get so much power? he thought to himself, eyes locked on his adversary. During their previous battle in what was once Los Angeles, the metahuman's influence was strong...

But never this strong.

"You think you can take MY...MY BIRTHRIGHT!?" came the roar of the hulking creature. As predicted, the unwieldly sword, Onslaught, returned to its master's gauntlet and the black aura in the blade had returned. 'I have found it, master.' The sentient weapon whispered within Desperaux's mind. 'His body is weakening.'

"I AM the future of this world, Sentinel! The future, that... is... DESPERAUX!" Throwing the mighty sword once again with but a single hand...

If we have to fight, can't we do it without all the damned shrieking?

The blade, flying at godly speed, was swirling toward him fiercely once again, forcing Alex to cut out his thoughts and evade. This time tucking into a roll, tumbling from his left flank into a sudden leap unto the next ledge at his rear, avoiding the weapon's sudden return.

Whew. Thank God this creep didn't get any faster since last time.

Letting loose his handgun hidden in his jacket sleeve, Alex responded with a flurry of jacketed hallow points aimed for the monstrous figure's chest, yet again leaping as the fiend's weapon had flown for the hero's neck. In the landing, Alex noticed the damage done to his longcoat and shot the foe a venomous glare. But observing what he inflicted to Desperauxs armor gave for a quick change in attitude.

He never understood Desperaux's emotional state, however given the time Alex had spent in fighting him years ago, Alex was only certain of one thing:

Desperaux was ******. A thought that forced a grin about the hero's face, cracking his usual neutral composure. His fingers extending wide, he activated the mechanism underneath his sleeve. His pistol retracted, assuming its role within the composite device beneath his bionic arm. With that, Alex was finally able to catch his breath again.

Hah. Take that, Tin Head. mulled Alex, still grinning in thought as his excitement began to show in his face. The real fight was just about to begin.

"YOU--!" roared the armored fiend "I will incinerateyou, and contain your ashes in your SKULL!"

The streaks of yellow radiant light flared brightly as Alex North finally drew Eastern Fury from its sheath. There was fight still left in the former Sentinel, but he could still feel the essence leaving his body, as well as in his sword arm. There was not much time left, and they both knew it. But if this was how he had to die... so be it.

Bring it on, freak.

[Big Rick Cook]

Re: A story I've been writing, mostly for fun...

My only question is "why would you post something that's unfinished and then tell people to take a hike when they have something to say about it?" I recognize the difference between trolling and constructive criticism, but so far as I'm concerned, you're only asking for trolls by telling them to beat it.

I mean, really. I don't like reading stuff from people that isn't as polished as you feel it can be before you let others read it. And I don't like other people reading my stuff unless I feel like I can't take it any farther with my own mind.

[Dallas Alvis II]

Re: A story I've been writing, mostly for fun...

I can understand your reasoning, but really...cool it. If you knew me well enough, you'd know that the initial requests weren't to be taken seriously AT ALL. I can see where I sounded a bit serious after reading it again from getting back from court (not many remember what I am refering to) but, to state my place, none of that was serious and more importantly, I forget where I am and...those of whom I interact with here.
But, seriously, calm down. I've had rocks thrown at my work before and none of it really hurt that bad...actually, thanks to ol' Terr (I think that is who it was) I was able to take his advice and tune up my first-person elements as far as characters go. In fact, that's kind of what I was poking fun of (I made similar requests on the topic made initially when I was 17)...that and I'm on my period today...so, on to bigger and better things...

Let us continue...I'm pulling these off of my blog since my word processor is acting so goofy, so I kind of have to re-edit the text format.

This is a possible prologue I had written most recently, and is revised for content only. I am happy with it at the moment, I have yet to revise the previous segment because I am not sure exactly which way I want it to go. Too many ideas at once, but it is what sparked my interest in writing more of it.


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-Prologue-

The air was malign, even possessing some of its stale taste if it were inhaled through the mouth. An entire atmosphere of residual, negative energy had stagnated within this place. It was hidden beneath, woven into the fabrics of reality; a world-within-a-world. This domain was the stuff of doomsayer's stories, dark prophet's premonitions and the nightmares of women and children.

It was a place unlike any other, it was called Void.

This realm was also the one final "resting place" of those who were malevolent; the evils that poisoned the earth once in life, that are delivered here upon death. No one leaves Void. No place in any other dimension could ever be so empty, so agonizing, and so...boring for one bulk of a spirit that lingered about the depths.

He was once a fearsome overlord of slaughter and hatred, and regarded as a warrior of peerless might. The gloomy shadow of Desparaux loomed about the shadows of this abyss. The brute was in a fit of anger, a spell of cruelty that lay dormant within. Desparaux was in worse shape than his slayer had left him one year ago, although the perception of time was practically a crawl when compared to the flow of the Natural Plane of Existence. For what remained of this monster, it felt like an eternity.

An eternity in this secluded universe of insanity! His rage was blazing inside as his mind was in no cooler state. Although he was able to open his mouth as if to speak, sound did not seem to exist here for him and it made it pointless to communicate with the other phantasms. He did not want to, anyway, having no need to chat with those below him. Even in death, his arrogance stayed. For the other spirits --particularly his former lackeys in his days alive on Earth-- it was believed that, had Desperaux been able to speak, they were certain that he would be sputtering curses.

Alex North, the fiend's thoughts were coiling and twisting over the ex-Sentinel, that boy that had dispatched him so long ago in The Dead City. It was his torment, the source of his newest fury. Every last spirit in the Void would desire to live again. Either for selfish reasons or out of personal reflections on past deeds in life. But maybe the once-empathic metahuman, Desperaux Walker, had desired this the most. Perhaps, he was willing to stake anything to live once more.

All to unravel his power of hatred-absolute and strike down the hero with all of his wrath; and to fulfill his divine legacy in becoming the new Lord of Malice. His ambition did not want to acknowledge the fact that every ghost in the Void is well aware of...

No creature, has ever been freed from the midnight
tendrils of Void.

[Dallas Alvis II]

An independent segment I thought of at the beginning of the month and just had to scribe out. This has been checked for my own taste. The only big thing I'm afraid of is so many run-ons. I don't think I'm going to use this for the story, but it does give me ideas. And gives some culteral perspective. Besides, it's good practice for me as I feel that I struggle a lot with describing things...
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Commander Straud
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Hayden Straud, Commander of the Sentinel Knights, was in brighter spirits than usual in fighting the evening heat. The sun was a bright burning orange that set in the horizon of the ocean view. It seemed to crawl away, hiding from him behind the veil of brownish-green and murky waters. At the top of the guarded wall, his face was finally cooling off a bit, as droplets of sweat collected on his forehead behind the steel visor. Hayden peered down at the civilization some 30 meters below the Citadel wall, marveling at mankind and its rivaled persistence.

Times were different for the Commander. In days long gone, he can think back to when he was a squire dreaming of seeing the great island fortress, as he fought for Citadel in the MacAuthor Liberation of 2087. He had never been to Citadel before, until in recent months. According to some tale, there was a story of when the city was once a prison roughly two-hundred years ago, the tale-teller claimed it was called “Alcatraz”. Though, Straud seemed one of few aware of this legend relating Citadel. Besides, his skepticism of all tales he has ever heard in the wasteland has kept his mouth locked tight with such regard.

Apart from what the island is said to have looked like then, it had no resemblance to its magnificence now. The city spanned all about the island from the Hyburne Plaza, spilling over to the Guardian Docks District. The sector was an entire area built over a charred steel foundation harnessed just above the water. This base material was sustained by massive support beams underneath the steel plating, and were assembled just three to four meters above the ocean’s surface to descend to the ocean floor. From what Straud could understand, the civilization was twice the size of what the island allegedly was in its fairy tale.*

“Commander Straud! Sir,” came a frazzled, quivering shout that stirred Hayden’s nerves a bit. His eyes darted over his shoulder to his right, recognizing the young Initiate Joachim Weston, approaching with an anxious look about him. Straud figured it was because this was Joachim’s third week out of training.

And the new recruit was obviously uncomfortable with interacting with a Commander, especially one with Stroud’s prestige.

Poor kid, he thought to himself, of all posts this "lime-knight"gets stationed in for his first duty station, he gets the most nerve-cracking one of ‘em all.

“Lime-knight”, a word many veteran Sentinels and Arbitrators have used over many years, was slang for a young recruit that was still “wet-behind-the-ears” and it was usually used as a degrading "label". A term that refers to the lime-colored patch on every knight's chestpiece. If it did not have a Seal of the Order, the bearer would be dubbed a "lime-knight" by the seasoned troops.

In this case, Hayden didn’t mean anything by it in thought, in fact, he always had a soft spot for the kid.

As soon as Initiate Weston met within point of the Commander, he executed the proper salute; with feet planted directly to the floor, perfectly side-by-side. There was a slight bow of the upper torso and head, followed by his right arm bearing a closed fist over his heart.

This form of salute was iconic for all of the Citadel Guardians when superior rank is regarded. Although at forty-three years old, with nearly twenty years of them invested in the Order, Straud was a bit stale towards aging, “pecking-order” traditions.

“That’s enough of all that, Initiate,” Straud acknowledged, waving his hand at the young trainee for him to cease formality. Straud didn’t fault him for it though, figuring that if he wouldn’t berate him about not saluting a superior Knight, some other time-honored “wash-out” probably would.

The Citadel Guardians had four general grades of magnitude; Initiate, Squire, Sentinel and Arbitrator. Elite titles such as Commander, are granted to those privileged enough in the Order, often rewarding years of outstanding service. Due to this detail, elite titles are almost always endorsed to Arbitrators. Though, Hayden could recall one Sentinel Alexander North had been presented with an elite title that was later turned down. Why a Sentinel would turn down something as ground-breaking as that was beyond the Commander‘s reasoning.

“What’s the problem, kid?” Straud inquired, smirking a bit at Joachim’s “shaken tenacity”.

“Uh… Sir! Regulator Nasher insists that you convene with him in his study room. Sir!” his reply was as quick and to-the-point as possible, yet a tad high-strung, Straud realized.

“You okay, son?” The Commander asked, “You can relax, I’m not going to eat you alive, alright?”

“Y-yes sir!” stammered the fresh recruit, looking like he couldn’t wait to leave. Sighing, Stroud’s smirk stretched to a grin from beneath his helm, eventually parting lips to give the word to dismiss him. “You can go now, kid, I’ll go see The Regulator”

If the Citadel Guardians were the elite knights of the area, The Regulator would be the closest to the Order’s captain. It is also important to note that, because the Citadel Guardians are the closest entity to Law in the wildlands, The Regulator might even be considered a Ruler in many respects. His influence, the current Regulator being Richard Nasher, is widespread through out many of the south west regions.

Great. What does he want from me now? he pondered, More of what I think should be done? I’m not a damn advisor…

With fingers curled and shoulders broad, Commander Straud sauntered away from the overlook, strolling in-route for Regulator Nasher’s Tower to the north-east. A breeze rushed against him, the air was finding its path to his body through the slits and open areas in his armor.

I just hope he doesn’t just want someone to confide in again, today. Aii...Taen'ush!**

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*Two times isn't all that big to us, but in this world where there isn't a lot of living, thriving cities...the future Alcatraz Island called "Citadel" is huge to the people of the western world in this culture.
**Taen'ush is a mystical legend to many of the lands people, he was using it to curse, "Aii...Taen'ush!" kind of the equal to saying "Oh, Christ!"