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| ART Chronicles; Not your garden-variety stories now... | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 17 2008, 11:36 AM (1,539 Views) | |
| Lord DragonFlame | Mar 23 2011, 01:26 PM Post #46 |
Christmas is back again
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I don't think there's any fuzz around this Tux. Just go ahead and post that story. After all, if it remains on topic, a bump ain't really necessarily no crime. |
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Working on banner, but if your looking to have some time off. Come, visit my channel on youtube. Warzak85DF's Let's Play corner | |
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| Tux | Mar 24 2011, 11:33 PM Post #47 |
Donning the Outfit
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Alrighty then, I'll get my newest story up, heh. Mind those who read this; it's mature-ish. There's gonna be some bad talking, alcoholic refs and some violence. Thought I get this out of the way before people get really mad at me. Oh, I'm gonna put both titles for everyone to read, see which title you think is best for this story. Enjoy. Toast of Thorn/The Man Is Back "...No, no, no. You have it all wrong." "Listen; I know exactly what I had seen two nights ago." "You were -drunk-. You could have seen -anything-." "Hey! I saw -her- and that's that." Angry growling is emitted within the conversation. "It only happens when..." "...When?" an anthropomorphic male gecko, clothed in shabby oatmeal-coloring, including his hat, asks the anthropomorphic male crow, clothed in only a purple vest, slightly agitated from the other's previous statements before tilting his head upward, looking around, almost paranoid. "...You hear that?" The gecko's eyes look in every-which direction, picking up a faint noise. "Yes...what is it?" "It sounds like someone...screaming??" "Screaming?? Wait...I think it is..." "AHHH!!" After the loud yell, a male human comes crashing right through the roof and down to the ground floor or the two-story bazaar, coated in planks of wood and dust. Every patron, including the gecko and crow, look to the pile of broken wood but most go back to their drinks and conversations. As the gecko stands up to help the wounded, some cuts of wood fall off on their own due to the force of the human's right arm. Breathing heavily, the human struggles to get the rest of the cuts off; the gecko snaps out of his daze and aids the human, the crow just staring and shaking his head, growling. "Are you okay??" the gecko asks the human whom is gripping his head firmly from the fall. "...Been through worse," the human coughs out, blinking his eyes several times, now looking at a hazy image of a long bar counter. The human shakes his head, signaling to the gecko that he can get up on his own; the gecko respects his wish and watches the human rise and stumble to the counter, holding on to an edge of the counter before helping himself to sit down on one of the barstools set. "I doubt it," the crow mumbles to himself, taking a sip of his drink. The human, clothed in a weathered-brown coat, a dirtied-green, plain shirt, black jeans and a pair of big, white-and-blue basketball shoes, rests his head on the counter, his shoulder-length hair covering some portions of his face, lulling himself to slumber. A fairly-tan, right index finger rises from the human, trying to get the barkeeper's attention; the human picks his head up to look at a middle-aged badger, donning a red vest, cleaning one of the serving glasses. "Got any red wine?" "One moment." The barkeeper heads to the pantry to check for any wine while the human rests his head on the counter again. The gecko looks to the human, noticing the crow's signals to 'leave him alone'; the gecko ignores the crow's demands and speaks with the beaten human. "Wine? Nothing stronger for you?" "I like wine," the human turns his resting head to the gecko, sighing. "Just figured you could use something stronger, that's all, what with," the gecko looks up to the hole in the ceiling from where the human entered the bazaar, "you falling down here, looking a wreck." "Wine...keeps me good...keeps me stable. Thanks anyway." The barkeeper comes back with a bottle of vintage red wine, sets it on the counter and attempts to leave for more supplies until the human stopped him. "Just straight out the bottle; nothing else." The barkeeper nods and heads back, pouring the straight shot of wine and serving it to the dreary human. The human holds the glass, raises it slightly to thank the barkeeper and takes a quick drink as the barkeeper leaves to tend to other patrons. The gecko and the crow look to the hole in the ceiling one last time, admiring the beam of moonlight shining down and grab their drinks, taking a quick swig themselves. As the patrons enjoy their drinks, ignoring the hole in the ceiling, the doors to the bazaar swing open and three men come forth: a short male human with brown skin, donning a weathered gray suit and slacks, fixing up his short dark-brown hair and his pair of white/black sneakers; an average male human with white skin, donning a clean tan suit and slacks, a pair of black dress shoes and a tan hat to complete the outfit which also covers his short black hair; a towering anthropomorphic golden retriever donning the simplest of clothing: a pair of overalls and black boots. The majority of the patrons pay the trio little attention until the gray-suit spoke: "We know you're here, Thorn!! Come on out!!" Little people shrugged to the outcry; the gecko and the crow continue their drinking while their human "friend" continues to sleep. "Let's bash their heads in!" the golden retriever suggests to the tan-suit and gray-suit, "I'm good at that!" The gray-suit agreed with the canine, both looking to the tan-suit. "Klub..." the tan-suit looks over to the canine and shakes his head; "...Spade..." the tan-suit looks over to the gray-suit and sighs. "We came here to negotiate with -one- person only. If we cannot find him here, -then- we will use force." "Ace," the gray-suit beckons to the tan-suit, "we know that." "It's just...a couple of people's heads I'll bash in, not the entire place...that okay?" Klub attempted to reason with the tan-suit. "Thorn is the one person we're after. Again, we cannot find him, then we will ruffle up the rest of this place to find him." Leaning over to Spade, Ace whispers to him: "Keep an eye on Klub this time." Ace stands idly by the entrance, blocking the main route of escape, while Spade and Klub head over to where the gecko, the crow and the battered human rest, ignoring the rest of the patrons. "What's with the hole in the roof?" Spade questions the three, keeping his eye on the slumbering human. "Bad weather," the crow answers curtly; the crow tries to take another drink from his glass until Klub smacks it out of his wing and grabs him by the scruff of his vest. "Or maybe Thorn made that. You know where he's at, don't cha?" "Easy now, son," the gecko attempts to reason with the retriever, "we don't know anything about this-" "Bull," the gray-suit calls on the gecko's bluff, slamming a fist on the counter and denting it, the mumbling barkeeper walking away. "That's probably what he told you to tell us! Where is he?" "I don't-" Spade grabs the gecko's glass and hurls it to the ground, shattering to pieces; the gray-suit grabs the gecko by the back of his neck and aims his head to the floor of shattered glass. "Where! Is! He!!" The gecko mumbles, hesitant to answer, thinking that tonight might be his last night to drink. Some patrons take notice and stand but Ace brings out a magnum handgun and fires one shot to the ceiling, ceasing the patrons' advance. The tan-suit conceals the weapon, the patrons having no choice but to watch an inevitable murder take place. "One last, FREAKING, time!! WHERE...IS...HE!?" The human starts to wake and mumbles the following: "Checked the bathroom?" Spade focuses his attention to the human and lets go of the gecko, shaking violently on the barstool; Spade backhands the back of the human's head, anger slowly building up within the tipsy human. "Think this is funny!? The man owes us a lot of money after what he has done, and you think this is funny to you!?" "Just saying. He could be in the most obvious of spots, like the bathroom." Agitated, Spade looks to Klub and barks to him the following: "Hey, you big lumbering idiot, check the damn restroom!" Klub nods and heads over to the women's restroom, the gray-suit striking his own face with his right palm, yelling: "No no no!! The MEN'S room!!" "But that human said--" "FORGET, whatever the human said!! -I- said to check the men's room, NOW!!" The retriever whimpers and goes into the men's room, cursing to himself and threatening to deal with Spade another time. The blind rage consumes the gray-suit, trying to focus at Klub's entrance of the men's room and the tipsy human at once, gaining a violent headache. Looking to the human and finally to the restrooms, Spade disregards the human and follows after the retriever; the men's room door swings open with Klub and another human flying out, crashing to the ground. "I got 'im!! I got 'im!!" the retriever barks loudly after subduing another human that fits the description of the man they are looking for. "It's about damn time," the gray-suit mutters to himself, walking over to check the downed human if it is the person. His left eye twitches, the right hand having trouble to close into a fist; Spade looks to Klub and urges for the retriever to flip the human over to see his face: they have caught the wrong guy. Roaring, the gray-suit kicks Klub off of the human, picks up the human and smashes him against the wall, focusing his attention back on the retriever. "Are you...are you...!?" "This -is- the guy...right?" The gray-suit forms his right hand into an open palm and thrusts at the retriever's abdomen, forcing Klub to spit and gasp for air. "ARE YOU -THIS- STUPID!?" Spade's heavy breathing continues, now focusing his attention to the still-resting human, power-walking towards him. "AND YOU--!!" As the gray-suit lays his hands on the still-resting human's right shoulder, the tipsy human wakes and throws his arms back, pushing Spade away. The tipsy human stands to his feet, dusts his clothing and fixes his hair, showing his face. "Not nice to treat your friend like crap, you know." "Th-th-THORN!? YOU--!?" "...played you like a fool? I did say that 'he' could be in the most obvious of spots, didn't I? Or were you too busy being an jerk to Klub over there?" Thorn points to the downed retriever, still holding his stomach in critical pain. "GIVE US BACK THE MONEY, YOU THIEVING--!!" Spade charges towards Thorn without completing his statement, throwing the strongest forward jab he could ever throw; Thorn steps to his right, dodging the forceful jab and delivers a left knee to Spade's abdomen, stunning him. The human throws a left jab to the gray-suit's chest and follows it with a right backhand to the left side of Spade's head; Spade throws a few hooks but could not catch Thorn, even as the tipsy human fell to the ground a few times. Spade, with labored breathing, tries to the forceful jab once more but is interrupted by an uppercut to the chin, leaping for a quick second, stumbling back, his vision hazy. Thorn stomps the ground with his right foot and charges, jumping up and executing a forceful drop-kick to the gray-suit's chest, sending Spade flying across the ground and crashing beside a group of patrons, some of them even clapping and cheering for Thorn. As Thorn stands and walks over to Spade to speak with him, the human suffers a gunshot wound to the left bicep, yelling and holding it as he attempts to remove the bullet; another bullet flies his way and quickly lies flat on the ground to escape it, panting. He looks up and notices the third of the trio: Ace, holding his magnum handgun, the finger still hugging the trigger. "Thorn, here you are." The tan-suit slowly advances to the injured human; the patrons now keep quiet, still afraid to face a man with a firearm who happens to fire so suddenly without warning. "I knew you were here. It was only a matter of time before you shown yourself. Now," the tan-suit kneels and aims the firearm directly to Thorn's head, "do you have my money?" "Damn...! You've got...the wrong guy." Ace pistol-whips Thorn, grunting from the bulk of the weapon, now looking directly at the tan-suit; "There's such a thing as mistaken identity! That could be someone else that looked like me!" "But you see, I can easily tell the difference between the real thing and an imposter, and you aren't fooling me." Thorn's heart beats at an accelerating rate, wondering what his next move should be before Ace pulls the trigger again. "...I...I'm sorry. I'll...hand over everything now." Ace, surprisingly to Thorn, moves the magnum handgun away from him and allows the shot human to stand. "Stand." Thorn struggles to get to his feet, trembling. Ace fires another shot near Thorn to scare him up. "Stand. Now." Thorn becomes terrified, his right hand reaching behind his back. "STAND, THIEF, AND PAY WHAT YOU OWE!!" Thorn quickly pulls out one of his Beretta handguns and fires at the tan-suit's magnum handgun, taking two quick shots to disarm Ace; Ace charges and punches the downed Thorn and soon finds himself flying, with Thorn aiming the Beretta at him and firing. Luckily, to both, Ace suffers a gunshot wound just below his right elbow joint, otherwise his whole arm would have been disabled; the tan-suit falls to the ground, holding his right arm, shouting. Thorn's pain quickly subsides due to the amount of adrenaline flowing within, along with self-medication with his spiritual essence of Regeneration, and slowly stands to find, nearly, the whole bazaar looking to him. Stumbling forward as his Beretta vanishes in an instant, Thorn focuses his attention to the still-hurt Klub and kneels down to him; the retriever looks to the battered human, terrified, holding his golden arms up to shield himself. Thorn snaps his fingers, shuts his eyes and holds two open palms in front of Klub, healing his wounds indirectly. "You should be fine now," Thorn tells the retriever, standing up and walking away towards the entrance of the bazaar, looking over to the bar counter, looking for the barkeeper. Klub now realizes how kind Thorn has been since the last encounters where Spade, and occasionally Ace, had mistreated him; Thorn was the only one who tended the retriever’s wounds, despite causing them; he sighs in relief and just watches the human make his exit. "If anyone sees that, bartender-guy," Thorn states for the rest of the patrons to hear, "tell him I'll pay for all damages done to this place, alright?" Most of the patrons nod their heads. "Alright. Well, best be off..." Unfortunately, the time spent healing Klub and letting the patrons know of Thorn's deed, Spade and Ace arise and look to Thorn, hell-bent on attaining their money. "Our money..." Thorn looks back to see Spade grab Ace's weapon and aim to him, quickly fleeing the scene after two shots were fired. "Get the thief already!!" Ace barks to both Spade and Klub, the gray-suit climbing to his feet and giving chase to Thorn. The tan-suit looks to the retriever, playing possum, and ignores him as he too gives chase after Thorn. As the doors closes, the retriever opens one eye to check if the three are gone and sighs, once more, in relief. Standing up to his feet and leaning against the wall momentarily, Klub limps forward to the bar counter, getting the attention of the barkeeper as the whole bazaar slowly returns to their normal activities. "Barkeeper-guy?" "What'll it be?" "Get me the strongest drink you have." |
 GOT THE WHOLE WORLD AHEAD OF YA, KID. | |
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| Lord DragonFlame | Mar 25 2011, 08:28 AM Post #48 |
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Christmas is back again
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Ha ha! I've always enjoyed these short stories, even them ones back in time. There's action, humour and drama, as if I'm in some crazy movie. And with probably my favourite human hero.  Way to describe every possible setting, how the fights are included, the hilarious villains, at the first mentioning of the bathroom, I could merely smile, adding the laughter there after. It's awesome Tux, no more is there to say, that those who haven't indulged in this, or any of your old works, have been missing a lot. Can't wait to see if you'll bring up some more stories here in the nearby future. Edited by DragonFlame, Mar 25 2011, 08:28 AM.
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Working on banner, but if your looking to have some time off. Come, visit my channel on youtube. Warzak85DF's Let's Play corner | |
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| Vednix | Mar 25 2011, 08:35 AM Post #49 |
The Dragon Whisperer
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Heh, your most recent short story to which I was drawn attention to is actually pretty damn awesome. Good that there is realism and such in these stories. Keep it up man, I'm enjoying reading these. c: |
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Character Profiles 1. Zenithalta “Zen” Aliaphinto | |
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| Tux | Mar 25 2011, 03:50 PM Post #50 |
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Donning the Outfit
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Thank you both. I've been experimenting with different styles and methods; did not know whether they would work or if I would feel comfortable with them, heh. I do have another one on the way; it's still in its draft phases, so when I come to a decent draft, I'll touch that one up and upload it here. For the most part, I'm really trying to write some decent combat scenes. So between you two, which of the titles that I've put fits this new story best? |
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GOT THE WHOLE WORLD AHEAD OF YA, KID. | |
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| Tux | Apr 16 2011, 12:36 PM Post #51 |
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Donning the Outfit
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Hey guys, apologies for the double-post. This next story is about my Tasmanian tiger swordsman, Hector. I know I haven't been developing him much in my stories, so to make up for this, I brought him out in certain RPs to continue developing him. This particular story is just him running a combat simulation. I will also include the second draft of this story at a later time so that everyone could compare the changes I made and such. More information regarding the second draft will be revealed once it is up. So, here is the next story and hope you guys enjoy it. Blur -The best defense is a good offense, but Speed will always determine the still-standing victor.- A gentle breeze whisks past a vast, open field, glowing from a golden-lit, clear sky, the tiny speck of the sun hovering in the distance. Sitting in the bed of shortened grass is a male Tasmanian tiger, clothed in light, jet-black garbs, eyes shut, and in front of him is his katana which is grounded within the earth. The tiger slowly rises to his feet, standing tall at five-foot-five, placing his right hand on the hilt of his blade, gripping it. The sword's sheath sways as the breeze strikes it which is located on the left-hand side of the tiger's lower garbs. The swordsman exhales along with a sudden rumbling noise, pulling his blade out from the ground and lashing it to the right, wiping most of the caked earth off the blade. As the tiger opens his eyes, he finds several holograms of various sizes staring to him, each armed with a melee weapon or a ranged weapon. The swordsman lowers his blade, the solid, dark-blue vertical stripe on his left bicep beginning to resonate with the energy around him, the projections preparing themselves for combat with the direct fighters striking the ground with their blunt objects and the ranged fighters stocking up on ammunition. The swordsman opens his mouth and presents his sharp fangs to the projections, all the while maintaining self-control, gripping the hilt of his katana with both hands, the same rumbling noise occurring at a louder volume. The tiger's heart beats at a steady pace, listening out for the projections' movements, turning his head slowly to the right. A quick "thwip" noise is heard from the southeast, the tiger taking notice of the noise and instantly backflips, watching an arrow zip by from underneath the airborne feline. His golden-brown fur radiates under the warmth of the sky's light upon landing; the swordsman, with katana in right hand, charges at the small army of projections, determined to vanquish them all. With a large, digitalized club in hand, the first projection the feline comes upon swings in a wild, horizontal manner, the tiger stabbing the club with his katana and holding on to the grip of the blade as the projection lifts its club upward to throw the swordsman off it. As the swordsman grips the hilt with both hands and plants his feet on the digital club, he looks ahead and tilts his head to the right, dodging a stray bullet; the feline grunts and reaches inside his garb, retrieving a kunai and holding it in the right hand. The tiger leans toward the back of the projection's neck and stabs it with the kunai, the projection disintegrating upon contact. About to pull out his blade from the still-dissolving projection, the tiger is flung into the air due to another stray bullet hitting the body of the katana, the kunai falling to the ground. The tiger lands and dodges a barrage of projectiles, soon picking up the kunai and disappearing. The feline reappears behind one of the shooters and raises the kunai for an immediate kill until the shooter aims its firearm behind it and fires. The swordsman leans to the left and catches another projectile heading to him fast. He lies flat on the ground, kunai in left hand and katana in right, watching the projectile strike the shooter in front of him and viewing the distortion it undergoes. The feline strikes the earth with his elbows, propelling himself up to his feet and stabbing the distorted projection with his blade, quickly moving to the left as a barrage of projectiles hit the heavy-distorted projection, now disintegrated. The tiger catches his katana and puts his kunai away in his garb, lashing the katana to his right to wipe off the digitalized particles still on the body of the blade. The swordsman dances across the field, maneuvering past the volley of projectiles and gunfire, gripping the hilt of the blade firmly with both hands. Once the window of opportunity was open, the tiger headed for the nearest shooter, leapt into the air and proceeded with an overhead slice but was soon denied his chance when one of the melee fighters appeared and shoved its blade right in front of the shooter, parrying the overhead slice and dealing damage to the tiger's forearms from the sudden parry. Grunting loud, the swordsman recovers from the parry, lands to his feet and thrusts his blade through the two projections, a stray bullet skidding the right sleeve of the garb. Aiming its firearm to the tiger's head, the distorted shooter struggles to pull the trigger and is instead met with a kunai directly to the left eye, all motor skills shut down. Pulling the kunai out from the socket, several particles fly out, the shooter fully gone but the melee fighter remains in a distorted manner with the blade still through its gut. Growling loud, the tiger pushes himself against the still-distorted projection, finally running and using the projection as a shield against the oncoming projectiles. The swordsman endures the stray bullets and projectiles that come into contact with his clothing, few skidding his fur and skin on the arms and shoulders. Sensing that the booming and thwiping noises become louder as he progresses, the tiger kicks the projection off of his blade and watches it crumble into hundreds of particles from the projectiles. He kneels for a moment, grips his katana, vanishes and immediately appears in front of three shooters, delivering a wide horizontal slash to defeat them, their particles falling to the ground. The feline looks over his right shoulder, turns around and swiftly shoves his blade in front of him to parry the large club swung by another projection, a tiny shockwave formed underneath the tiger. Electricity begins to emit from the swordsman along with his eyes dilating. The tiger growls and charges forward, shoulder-tackling the projection's stomach; the feline holds his katana in reverse style and executes an upward slash to the projection's chest area, suffering major distortion. The swordsman exhales suddenly and ducks underneath a thrusting blade, soon kicking the left wrist of the second projection and knocking the digital blade out of its hands. He stands to his feet and advances, swiftly dodging a right hook from the projection, performs a quick hop and rams the katana through the projection's throat, more digital particles flying about. The male brings out the kunai and, without looking, hurls it right behind him to pierce the slashed-chest projection and fails to hear and feel its particles of defeat. Switching katana positions from reverse to standard, the tiger grips his blade, turns around and stands his guard, deflecting his own kunai which was hurled by a fresh projection. The electricity flows from the swordsman and lets out a war cry, raising his blade to the sky and slowly forming a full circle with it. One shooter fires off one of its weapons at the tiger and is soon dissolved from a swift assassination attack, the projectile vanishing before the swordsman. The tiger reaches half-moon and opens his eyes to reveal dilated pupils, the rest of his body shivering from the energy build-up. All remaining projections throw and shoot at the tiger to prevent him from completing a full-circle and fail once the blade reaches the sky once more, forcing the projectiles to halt in their march, one such projectile scratching against the swordsman's nose. In the blink of an eye, the swordsman is nowhere to be seen, leaving the projections on a frantic search for him. In mere seconds, particles drop and fly by the hundreds, some electrically charged. The last seven stand idly by, three shooters discharging their entire weapon capacities and the other four direct fighters swinging their blunt and sharp objects all over. Two horizontal slashes are executed on a shooter and a direct fighter, frozen in their spots, suffering fluctuating levels of distortion. As one of the melee fighters swings their blade, it finds the weapon dissolving in front of it and instead swings its digital fists. That said projection bursts into hundreds of particles, the two injured projections from earlier following it. Two melee projections finally spot the charged swordsman flying right at them, swing at him and finally strike at the face, halting the tiger; both projections lose their arms and legs after the strike, looking at the tiger disintegrating into dust before they too dissolve. The remaining two huddle back-to-back and wait, one readying its fists and the other reloading its firearm. The swordsman appears and flies at the two, meeting a projectile to the face, grinding into dust. The swordsman attempts another strike and charges at them, heading for the melee combatant but is adverted to a fist underneath his chin and a powerful slam which forces the tiger into more particles of ashes. Several images of the tiger appear and advance mercilessly towards the two, each meeting their end by the two projections; the only known injuries are a torn left arm from the combatant and a missing right arm from the shooter. The melee combatant suffers another torn limb: its right leg and falls, its whole body sliced in two. The shooter looks everywhere, the finger steadily on the trigger and notices that a good amount of shadow falls upon it, forcing it to look up and catch a silhouette of the airborne swordsman, immediately aiming and discharging its whole cartridge at him and then some. The silhouette continues to fall, moving fluidly from the barrage of projectiles. Down to the last projectile, the shooter aims carefully and fires, standing proud in victory once the projectile has connected with the silhouette. The projection attempts to move but cannot; it was under paralysis by the time it had fired and kneeling before it is the legitimate swordsman who had executed a lightning-imbued, overhead slice right down the middle of the projection. All it could do was look at the tiger stand to his feet, watching as he cleans his blade and slowly sheath the weapon, the click signifying the end of the simulation and of the last projection whose particles fly away with the playful breeze. The last ounce of lightning shorts out, no longer needed by the tiger as he opens his eyes and exhales smoothly, looking to the dimly-lit sky. He nods to this and walks over to the spot where he had dropped his kunai, squats and picks it up, brushing the blades of grass off it, soon tucking it in his upper garb. As the tiger takes a few steps forward, he turns his head back and remembers a time when things were this calm after all of the fighting during his time as an assassin. He looks ahead, takes a quick kneel and rushes forward, vanishing with the wind. |
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GOT THE WHOLE WORLD AHEAD OF YA, KID. | |
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| Lord DragonFlame | May 1 2011, 12:31 PM Post #52 |
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Christmas is back again
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That was like, fight, fight, fight, fight fight. Insane battle simulator described at the best of efforts. Also, an old familiar face in action, good times that too. Will be looking forwards to read more stories man, as they each own a certain kind of twist.
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Working on banner, but if your looking to have some time off. Come, visit my channel on youtube. Warzak85DF's Let's Play corner | |
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