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She watched the candle flicker out, having reached the end of its wick, and immediately set to work. From the array of weapons and armor before her, she decided to bypass the firearms in favor of a short sword, twenty shuriken, smoke powder, a small sheild, and a kevlar vest. The last one stood out in comparasion to the more archaic items, but she couldn't count on her opponents to have her sense of style. She wasn't known as The Hunter for nothing. A loud crack filled the cavern, echoing through the various tunnels. There was no telling were exactly the sound had come from. She shrugged her shield onto her back. It would do her no good in such a small space. She raised her sword. The candle's flame went out. Her breathing filled the musty air in the pitch-black cavern.
In her mind, she could hear her father’s voice: “You’ll wish you had taken that old .45 automatic before this is over with.” It was true that sometimes a slug would stop what magic couldn’t. For a moment she missed her father.
As though with a sixth sense, she knew what was coming even before a spectral light filled one of the tunnels. The cracking sound was worrisome enough, though she had an idea what to expect of that. But she had never seen the Moragelle who lived under the hill, and who, she guessed, was tired of having its domain invaded. There was only one way to kill one of those.
Moragelle had thick skulls and otherwise inflexible bodies that could turn aside a bullet. One opening existed however, right around the occiptial lobe, where the spine connected to the skull. She wondered how evolution had designed a creature with such perfect defenses complete with an idiotic weakness, but simply destroying the brain wouldn't be enough anyway. Moragelle had a second brain, a sort of back up harddrive, somewhere in the torso. Its main job was to repair the first brain as quickly as possible - thus, the only was to kill one was to magically destroy the brain through the three inch hole at the base of its skull.Destroy something with magic, it often can't be fixed. Like our world, she thought.
There was another Crack! and then a series of them, and she knew from the sudden yells, the clattering of armor, that a band of Xardorics had materialized in one of the tunnels. Unhappily for them--she surmised from the screaming that ensued--a Moragelle had been there to greet them.
She started along the tunnel, keeping to the cave wall to reduce the chance or a ricochet hitting her. The Xardorics' foolishness may provide her the cover she needed to slip past the Moragelle - and retrieve what they all came for.She felt no guilt in stealing from the Moragelle; it wasn't a sentient, but a living construct created by long dead people to protect the Case. Whoever they were, the Hunter was never really certain, they knew how to make guardians. Unfortunately, one of those guardians stood between her and her people's salvation.
As she approached the battle, but long before she should've seen it (if she knew anything about how sound travels underground), she heard someone shuffling towards her, muttering. She crouched slightly to minimize herself as target further and readied a shuriken; she'd hit at a distance first, then move in with her shortsword if she needed to finish the job.
A man, dressed as a Xardoric, moved into view, his head down. Apparently unaware of the Hunter, he continued to mutter to himself, "told 'em I wanted to wait out my sentence, but they insist'd this'd be a short'r term. Cripes! Short'r term, just right, as short as ur lives."
Though she couldn’t have said just what he was up to, she could tell that the fellow in Xardoric garb was on an errand it might be worth her while to find out about. Among the Coleri, Lys was what was known as an empath, able to read feelings but not thoughts. It made her a deadly hunter. As the man, mumbling, passed her in the darkness, she sensed no malice, merely frustration and a determination to get a bothersome chore done.
The Xardoric moved past her, apparantly unaware of the Hunter. He found a wide open area created by two passages crossing at a shallow angle. He kneeled down for a moment and started to ... do something ... with something. The Hunter couldn't see properly. She moved closer."Can I have your name before you kill me?" the Xardoric suggested suddenly.
The Hunter paused. The Xardoric stood, leaving a puzzle of high tech tools etched with archaic symbols on the cave floor behind him. He turned and looked at her through the total enclosure of his helment. She knew what supposedly lay beneath the helment of a Xardoric, but she had never seen it for herself.
"My name is none of your concern," the Hunter said warily. "Why, Xardoric?"
"If you intend to kill me, then you name is all of my concern; for I do not wish to wander the afterlife telling people I was killed by some stranger." the Xardoric explained as he flipped open his helmet to reveal his true form.
She lowered her sword the moment the so-called Xardoric revealed his human face and long auburn hair.She moved her weapon to the side and she saw his form relax. A tension noticeably had left him like a weight lifted off his back.
"I am glad you decided not to kill me, brave warrior."
"I have not decided to wane taking your life, mysterious traveler. I saw you kneel to that corner over there. I saw a strange glow on the floor. What were you doing?"
He rubbed his hands down the front of his tattered camo soft shell pants as beads of sweat formed across his forehead. He could answer her question without giving much away but a buzzing sound distracted him.
"Tell a lie," a soft voice whispered.
"Tell a lie," a soft voice whispered.
The command was not an audible one, but instead a near silent thought that had been placed in his mind by the powerful witch who sent him here to collect the box...or more importantly what it contained.The Xardoric glanced back at his now glowing device that was giving off a faint hum, "It tells which way is safe, and which leads to the box and certain death."
"Must you trust a box to show you the way? I feel that it is enchanted with something that is not right. Could it be that the witch lead you to it?""She is not some witch! She has helped me with much and wants me to give her this box after I find my own use with it... I think that it is better off to just give it to her now."
The Hunter now had a feeling she wasn't quite used to especially with a person she was planning on killing just a moment ago.
She had pity.
A thought flashed in her mind.
"Daring warrior. I think you should hold onto that box and take yourself into the cave or what you plan on doing. I think you don't have to deal with that witch. Your disguise will provide great protection. I must meet this person as I have a plan."
Before he said anything he was back as a so called Xardoric and had taken off down a cold, dank path in the caverns.
The Hunter decided she must leave but stealthily as she just about scraped past a Moragelle that could have plucked her head clean from her body.
She somehow managed to trace a way outside to a strange lair.
She felt that if she stole the witch's medicine she would follow the "Xardoric" to where he planned to go with the magic box.
She sneaked a peek at this horrid creature. Usually witches were regular humans (and sometimes even attractive!) but this here was not a regular witch. She was a Snubar witch, a race that doesn't usually have such a dark occupation and has a reddish brown face with a long, hose-like nose. Her tiny hairy eyes stared down into her work. She hoped to keep hopes up for the Xardoric that he claimed to be to bring her what she wanted all along. All this because the man was in a great debt, could have been put in jail for all his life, and this was a feeble way to escape the sentence.
The Hunter saw that she had a many mess of potions, medicines, and... was that it after all!!
A thing that she could use to take down possibly every Moragelle that stood in her way deep in the mysterious caverns?
A ballintoick! She eyed the glass jar that held the root-like creature that swung back and forth.
The Hunter then took the Snubar by surprise, grasped at her back, and before the old thing of a creature could dare cast one of her fatal potions on the Hunter it was dead. The short sword stood clean in her back as the creature lay on its stomach.
Right before she took the jar of the ballintoick she realized that the man she had decided to give mercy to could possibly have tricked her into letting him live.
She had a thought that the man was just as easy to mistrust as she had a liking to in this world.
A Snubar this deep within the kingdom's territories was a concern for another time. The Hunter loosened the cap on the ballintoick's jar planning to give it the conditions of release. But as soon as the lid was the slightest bit removed, the containers powerful enchantments were broken. The ballintoick raged forth, changing itself into a Wookisaurus and setting its intent on devouring the girl.
The hunter thought what she saw was as real as could be, she did not know that ballintoicks were not real shapeshifters. Instead, they always remained quite small, looking much like a miniature Mr. Potato Head, but with the ability to get inside a person's head and bring their worst fears to life. The ballitoick uses a persons own mind to kill them.
A girl walked past and at first I saw that it was a girl, but then I saw Louise, the one who turned me. She's the one who ruined my life, the reason I'm a dead, lost soul. Why everyone think's I'm dead, but I'm there and always watching,listening and protecting.
Dean Winchester Drives through the country roads while also flipping through his fathers journal" I have to find Sammy." He flips to the last page finding nothing then yells" GOD DAMNIT!!" He throws the book to the floor then slams the gas and shoots through the roads at 90 miles an hour.
The crash of thunder outside sounded like an oak tree being snapped in half, the lights flickered and went out. Marcus cursed and threw the remote at the TV, Supernatural was his favorite show, and he hadn't had the chance watch it in weeks. Marcus often thought if demons and ghosts were real that he would be a lot like a real life Dean Winchester, traveling around and battleing evil that the rest of the world didn't want to admit was real. Instead, Marcus was a mercanary of sorts, he spent most of his time hunting down fugitives all over the world for the reward money, but from time to time he also hired himself out as more. He had just finished a nearly month long job tracking down and rescueing a young girl from a bunch of Ukranian gangsters, they were going to sell her to some group of South Pacific millionares that wanted to use her as a virgin sacrafice to a volcano god they thought would help bring them more riches.Now as Marcus sat on the edge of the bed in the dark, quiet hotel room just outside of Salt Lake City he thought about the girl he had just returned to her wealthy parents. The girl, Chelsey, had told him something as they made the long drive from the wrought-iron gate to the large house at the top of the hill that overlooked the family's expansive estate; she told Marcus it was her step-mother that had sent her out to the store the night she was abducted. Chelsey said there was something strange in way her step-mother had told her goodbye that night, like she knew Chesley wouldn't be making the trip back.
Chelsey had a morbid fear of being alone. She was surprised her step-mother sent her off to the store at all. The country roads were not lit by streetlamps. The trees held branches to their lips as though keeping a dire secret. Chelsey stared at the countryseat in the rearview mirror. She turned on the radio and began biting her nails. There was something about the way her step-mother handed her the keys - ponate but with a contrivance - to her corvette. "Bread," Ursula had said with a smoothness. "And that fingernail polish I like."
A video comes on showing a man around his 50's or 60's sits in a chair scared and nervous. The man looks straight into the camera and says" I hope this video is viewed by people of a earth that is not in the apocalypse and has no freaks. If it is let me explain history because I know firsthand that history is changed for the worse. Stupid historians mistranslating the Mayan calendar, it wasn't December 21, 2012 it was September 12th 2021. So let me set you straight on the history of the end of the world, well it wouldn't be the end of the world if this being viewed by earthlings that aren't living in this chaos. Never mind my error. At first scientists Thought it was a comet that would just past earth, they were wrong. I'm not exactly sure what it was that hit earth but it killed almost everyone and destroyed so many places. Places like New York, Japan, California, Georgia, and Alabama were wiped off the map. We had thought no was genetically altered, well technically no one was but some of the survivors children were genetically altered. Freaks, is what sensible people like me call them others call them heroes or saviors, they are the dumbest creatures of this world. I mean how could these freaks be heroes!? They are freaks and menaces. I mean there is a teenager that can freeze anything, can make his fingers so cold he makes holes in walls cause the Ice spreads the solid molecules apart, also he can-" There's a crash then a laugh. Then a loud joyful voice says" Oh doc how kind your talking about me!" The doctor grabs a gun and Points it at the person not see able in the video. Then a tall young teenager with spiky blonde hair ripped jeans and a tattered up shirt that said"Take a chill pill bro." The older man presses the trigger but nothing happened, the man checked the gun it had frozen solid from the inside.The man throws the gun down and tries to run but the young man sprints up to him and taps his should turning him into a human ice sculpture. The man then punches the frozen one smashing it to pieces. Another young man looking exactly like the other but instead wearing a leather jacket and ripped jeans man. The tall one laughs" Desmond your a nutcase." Desmond laughs" actually I'm a ice case. Get it Tar tar?" The man goes from a smile to a scowl" I told you ice for brains do not call me that! We are not children anymore! Your Desmond and Terrance, and if you dare make another ice pun I will fry you with the electricity from that camera.God how the hell are we twins!? I mean it's hard to believe by just are personalities were even related." Desmond laughs"Tar tar take a chill pill man and be cool." Suddenly the camera shuts off and a bolt of electricity knocks Desmond to the ground.
Desmond's intention was to flout Tar Tar into circumsolar meltation. Tar Tar was actually able to do this. Desmond took off his cardigan and set his pitchfork down. What ensued next would effect the Hidalgo region of Central Mexico for many years.
chelsey had heedlessly snatched the keys and the proffered cash and wordlessly headed out the door without a backward glance. ursala was weird to begin with and chelsey and her werent exactly on the best of terms. chelsey was a nice girl- really she was- but some people just get under your skin- saint or otherwise. she would swear that even mother teresa would be plotting ursulas murder as chelsey took to doing on occasion. little did she know what fate ursala had planned for her.marcus grumbling headed, mostly out of habit, for the kitchen. skirting the fridge, he opened the pantry and stuck his head in boredly. after sniffing at a few questionable items, he shut the door with a satisfying snap and heaved a sigh.
"should remember to go to the store later." he said aloud, mostly just to hear something, anything other than the silence broken only by rumbling thunder. he wondered if chelsey had ever solved her stepmother problem. he briefly wondered if he should call but swiftly discarded that idea. after pacing around a minute, marcus bent down beside the queen sized bed and lifted the slightly stained comforter. underneath he pulled out his suitcase. inside gleamed a large assortment of all types of weapons. just seeing his babies allowed marcus to release a contented sigh. his fingers roved along the smooth cold metal, soft and worn leather, and grainy wood. blades, guns, ammo, gear, and grenades. add a guy with a naughty taste for vengeance and youve got a recipe on your hands.
There are two rules:
- No double posting; wait until someone continues off your last message before adding more.
- Make your posts clear; at the very least try to edit spelling and grammar mistakes.
The story can be as convoluted, bizzare, or zany as we wish. Have fun!
She watched the candle flicker out, having reached the end of its wick, and immediately set to work. From the array of weapons and armor before her, she decided to bypass the firearms in favor of a short sword, twenty shuriken, smoke powder, a small sheild, and a kevlar vest. The last one stood out in comparasion to the more archaic items, but she couldn't count on her opponents to have her sense of style.