Full Games List
Featured Games
New Games
Reviews
Media
Images
Blogs
Game Updates
Images Feedback Summary
Game Design Highlights
Tutorials
Articles
Scripts
Utilities / Plugins
Resources
Engines
Engine Bulletins
What is Makerscore?
Past Events
Achievements
Misaos
Forums
Post History
Chat
New to RMN?
Full Store List
RMN Music Pack (free)
CLOSAT - THE CULMINATION - {DEADLINE IMMINENT!}
Posts
Trihan
View playlists
Close
Irili
3198
author=Trihan
I use OpenOffice myself. It has a word count feature too and it's free. :)
I adore OpenOffice. Suck it Word.
Well, I had a really, really, really bad night/day, so I will extend this to tomorrow. Anything not in by then is out. Last warning. No second/third/fourth chances.
Dreagen Island; a drab, uninspiring place. Once an island prison cum mining community, now the hideout of the worlds most wanted man - man-slayer, Nelson. My target.
The island is covered in mist this early in the year and I stare around my camp of the night before. Patchy grass meets my gaze; grey-green and sickly. I close my eyes and consider the duty that awaits me in a cave not far from here. Take a breath, hold, let it go. A calming exercise I learned from my mother before the food shortages began and the world turned on its head. She was scatterbrained and not a little forgetful, but she at least had passion and knew how to survive the first of the months through which we and the rest of the world suffered. All I can see of her now is withered skin and pale eyes as she takes a last, dragging breath. None remember her as I do - the once-vibrant woman who'd follow the papers, always on the lookout for news of my father, the man who gifted me this medallion I wear. My only treasure now, in these broken days.
I open my eyes. A wall of grey stretches before me, but I know where my path lies. I scouted it out last night, copied it over and over in my mind as I meditated, ate, set camp and slept. I've wandered that path through my dreams all night. At the end of it is the one thing that is necessary to save the world. The death of a terrifying man who should never have been and the vital piece of a machine that needs to become.
I am alone on this quest, though I wasn't to start with.
I stroke the blade of the knife in my hand; feel the dried blood that still coats it from tip to handle. It was a gruesome scene and one that I failed to prevent. Because of my inadequacies she lost her life; a virgin sacrifice to the gods of an ancient race of one. We never saw it coming. One moment the both of us sat opening our hearts under a night of broken stars and the next, her body on a platform; blood-covered and never able to share or dream or hope or laugh again. I'd cry but it wouldn't do either of us any good now. I've no tears left anyway.
I reminisce as I stalk through the mists; think of the past, of the people who once were so dear to me and are now gone. A part of me wishes they were still here to help me feel alive; human again. Mostly I'm glad they're gone, though. I don't think they'd recognise the person I've become as the sweet boy who ran circles around rooms, giving away my food to whoever looked hungry. I've taken a lot from the world since then - lives, hopes, dreams - all the things that keep a man human, and I've stolen them all.
The path is short, but I've since reconciled that the last path would be. How else could a journey like this end? A short, desperate fight to the finish. Still, it tires me a little, walking through the grey world that presses in at me on all sides. I wonder, is this how a man feels, walking that short walk to his death? Did prisoners feel every step take a thousand years before the end? I'll never know, I suppose. What good is knowing something in a world gone dark, anyway? I often believe all we are fighting for is one last step before the end. Does it help, to rely on past knowledge? After all, everything we used to know led us to create this dying world.
I take the last step and hope.
The island is covered in mist this early in the year and I stare around my camp of the night before. Patchy grass meets my gaze; grey-green and sickly. I close my eyes and consider the duty that awaits me in a cave not far from here. Take a breath, hold, let it go. A calming exercise I learned from my mother before the food shortages began and the world turned on its head. She was scatterbrained and not a little forgetful, but she at least had passion and knew how to survive the first of the months through which we and the rest of the world suffered. All I can see of her now is withered skin and pale eyes as she takes a last, dragging breath. None remember her as I do - the once-vibrant woman who'd follow the papers, always on the lookout for news of my father, the man who gifted me this medallion I wear. My only treasure now, in these broken days.
I open my eyes. A wall of grey stretches before me, but I know where my path lies. I scouted it out last night, copied it over and over in my mind as I meditated, ate, set camp and slept. I've wandered that path through my dreams all night. At the end of it is the one thing that is necessary to save the world. The death of a terrifying man who should never have been and the vital piece of a machine that needs to become.
I am alone on this quest, though I wasn't to start with.
I stroke the blade of the knife in my hand; feel the dried blood that still coats it from tip to handle. It was a gruesome scene and one that I failed to prevent. Because of my inadequacies she lost her life; a virgin sacrifice to the gods of an ancient race of one. We never saw it coming. One moment the both of us sat opening our hearts under a night of broken stars and the next, her body on a platform; blood-covered and never able to share or dream or hope or laugh again. I'd cry but it wouldn't do either of us any good now. I've no tears left anyway.
I reminisce as I stalk through the mists; think of the past, of the people who once were so dear to me and are now gone. A part of me wishes they were still here to help me feel alive; human again. Mostly I'm glad they're gone, though. I don't think they'd recognise the person I've become as the sweet boy who ran circles around rooms, giving away my food to whoever looked hungry. I've taken a lot from the world since then - lives, hopes, dreams - all the things that keep a man human, and I've stolen them all.
The path is short, but I've since reconciled that the last path would be. How else could a journey like this end? A short, desperate fight to the finish. Still, it tires me a little, walking through the grey world that presses in at me on all sides. I wonder, is this how a man feels, walking that short walk to his death? Did prisoners feel every step take a thousand years before the end? I'll never know, I suppose. What good is knowing something in a world gone dark, anyway? I often believe all we are fighting for is one last step before the end. Does it help, to rely on past knowledge? After all, everything we used to know led us to create this dying world.
I take the last step and hope.
They have indeed! And I'm working on getting the finished presentation up in the next few days (things are a bit hectic here).
Huh, for some reason I thought we were voting on these or something so I didn't post it in the topic thinking I had to stay anonymous. Oh well, here's my effort!
My CLOSAT and challenge were as follows:
And here's my story:
My CLOSAT and challenge were as follows:
author=Liberty
Characters:
Bessie Hoover
Mousy face, brown hair, brown eyes. Wears dresses year round.
Scatterbrained. Thinks no one understands her and that she's incredibly special on the inside, but is constantly reminded that she's just like everyone else. Constantly striving to be something she's not and failing miserably. Obsessed with anything and everything about the police force.
Lommán Green
Grey-eyed and grey-haired, his jeans are ripped.
The son of the son of a farmer who inherited the family farm when he was 20, this now 52 year-old is in a bit of a pickle. His daughter is getting married and her fiancé is the local banker... who wants to steal the farm!
Clayton Orloff, male.
Mid-thirties, slightly unkempt.
Out of a job, out of luck, and out of money. He's obtained a very pessimistic view of everything because of these things.
Location:
Waterfall of Jade
Description: Shining as bright as the sun, and being the highest point in the universe, to see this area is like getting paid 1,000 pieces of gold, every few seconds! Only the most adventurous of people have seen it, and it's more dangerous on the journey, then it is actually being there.
It was found in the year 3000 when explorers travelled here. And instead of taking samples, they marvelled in its glory. So many people hear the story of the waterfall that they may begin to wander what the water tastes or feels like. Well, the water is actually cursed, and one drink, and you disappear, one touch, and your skin burns. Still looks good though.
Object:
Almincing Jalor
Description: A constantly oscillating orb shaped crystal that's the stuff of legends.
No, not legendary POWERS per say, but was used in many daring missions to retake what has been lost. Its particular power is unknown but is suspected to give the user utter control while damaging them greatly if they abuse its power.
Situation:
Situation: A food shortage is terrorizing a small country. The peasants who work on the farms are tired of being illiterate, so they are escaping from their masters to pursue an education.
Action:
Action: Someone singing karaoke
Theme:
Shades of Grey - not everyone that seems to be/works for agents of evil actually is/are.
Any questions or queries, check out the thread here: CLOSAT: The Culmination
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
CHALLENGE CONTENT
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Use the initial content sent as well as the extra content in this PM to complete the challenge. If you wish to drop out of the challenge, you may complete a normal CLOSAT instead, just using the initial content sent.
Object
Book of the Close
A book of magic, made by a witch, made specifically for closing things. This may seem pointless at first, but when you realize it can close a relationship, a dimension, a portal, and many other things literal and mental, you would wish you had it!
Location
Eerie of Rimdor
A once bustling mountain crawling with adventurers' seeking their fortune and the like. Now it is an abandoned rock heap infested with demented creatures of all sorts. The top reaches the lowest level of clouds and is snow-capped, and the sides have been made dangerously steep from the long downpours of rain along them.
At the peak stands a large one-hundred foot monument of the first person to ever set foot on the peak--Thomas Terrancesson. He holds a lance in his right hand and a buckler strapped to his right arm. He is carved out of the very mountain itself.
None have set foot on this mountain since the incident
Rules
- You must have 2007 words - no more, no less.
You may choose two or more of the below rules to follow.
- You must use as much alliteration as you can
- You cannot use the letter 'x' at all
- One character must talk with an exaggerated accent
- You must use future tense.
- Two characters must engage in a fight of some sort
- You must include lines from 10 different songs.
And here's my story:
author=Trihan
Prologue
Sit silently and I will set the scene of my story. A tale of tragedy, a lament of love, a fable of family and food.
The blushing bride-to-be will be bedecked in bedazzling blue. Beautiful; buoyant; bashful.
A furious father will fume fervently. Folly will be his friend.
“Och, ye cannae consent tae canoodle that cantankerous coot!” Lommán Green will say.
Green his name; grey his eyes and grey his hair, given to a gob most gregarious. He'll have a domestic with his daughter before the day is done.
“You just can't comprehend my Cuddle Commander!” Bessie Hoover will rudely retort, using her mushy moniker for her beefcake beau.
Her sire will sigh, and her scowl will soften in sympathy. “Father, you're fairly frustrated with the forage for food; I forget this frequently.”
“Aye,” he will holler with a heavy heart. “Ah purely want tae provide fer ma progeny.”
Luck will leave the locals in this land. Their sustenance will be scarce and the smallfolk will be scared. But I'm getting ahead of myself: let's go back to the beginning.
Chapter 1
Bessie's Beau the Banker
One dreary day in December, Bessie will blunder into a bank and be beguiled by a banker named Beelzebub. They'll consume coffee and cake in a café and chat about childhood. He'll propose and she'll panic. He'll woo and wine and wheedle and repeat the request until she relents.
For the honeymoon they'll hike in the Eerie of Rimdor, a malignant mountain with myriad monsters. He's no stranger to the skulking skeletons, being a direct descendant of Thomas Terrancesson, who was first to set foot on the top of the tip.
Thousands of years from now, when the mountain is more of a molehill, this will be the Waterfall of Jade, with cursed current and perilous paths. This is not a necessary notion of the narrative, but will be noted nevertheless.
“If I lay here, if I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world?” Beelzebub will ask.
“Love is a battlefield,” Bessie will reluctantly remind.
“Should I stay or should I go?”
“I'm not saying goodbye.”
“You're gonna have to face it, you're addicted to love.”
“We're no strangers to love; you know the rules, and so do I.”
“Maybe we're crazy.”
“It's a nice day for a white wedding.”
“Maybe you're right.”
“You make me wanna say I do, I do, I do, do do do do do do do.”
And with that, the plucky pair will silently snuggle, Beelzebub taking brief breaks to valiantly vanquish meandering monsters.
Chapter 2
Clayton's Consequences
Coincidentally coinciding with our couple's creature-laden caper, a slightly unkempt scoundrel will be searching for soup. His name? Clayton Orloff. Although fortune frequently fails to favour him, soon he will stumble upon a stupendous something which will literally change his life.
Clayton will clamber through the city center, on the lookout for lowlifes. Unfortunately, his low luck means lowlifes will locate him.
“I reckon this one's runnin', Roger,” a diminutive dude will declare.
“Well that won't work, William,” Roger will reply. “Due to the job that needs doing.”
With that they will haul Clayton by his haunches as he hollers for help, bringing him to a boarded-up old building that looks like it's one rap away from wreckage. Inside the building will be the boss, a big, barrel-chested buffoon with more brawn than brains.
“You got 'im then boys?” the boss will ask. (You'll note that there's no alliteration in his dialogue because as previously established he isn't the sharpest bulb in the drawer, and using alliteration in speech tends to require a modicum of intellect. It is in no way connected to the fact that coming up with new ways to use alliteration in dialogue is becoming increasingly difficult and I'll gladly take a half-assed way out of doing it for every character. A bit like how this rather lengthy alliteration-free parenthetical is in no way intended to pad out my word count.)
“Yes, ye yure yid,” William will whisper, not quite getting how alliteration is supposed to work.
“'Ere's the fing, Clayton,” the boss will say. “Dere's a fing I want to get my 'ands on, and my sources tell me your 'ands will be useful in making that 'appen.”
The relic being referred to will be none other than the Almincing Jalor, an artifact of unparalleled power and dubious duty. Clayton will have heard of the mysterious majig, of course; according to local legend, it's located at the Eerie of Rimdor, a life-threatening location for the luckless to say the least.
“According to local legend, it's located at the Eerie of Rimdor, a life-threatening location for the luckless to say the least,” Clayton will say, being woefully unfamiliar with the notion of a non-present narrator.
“Best get going then,” the boss will bellow.
Chapter 3
Furious Fish Fight
And so it will come to pass that Bessie, Beelzebub and our brave, baleful Clayton will converge, one pair prolonging their post-nuptials and the other seeking something.
“My handsome husband!” Bessie will delightfully declare. “I see a hobo hobbling up the hill!”
Skeptically, Beelzebub's sight will skim the soil for substantiation of her statement, and fall upon the curious form of Clayton, creeping towards their clearing.
“I will handle this hobo, honey,” he will holler.
Following this declaration Beelzebub will bound towards Clayton, holding in his hands a wondrous weapon with which he will wound and win. A weapon not, in appearance, unlike a halibut.
“Fervent fiend,” Clayton will call. “Do you fear to fight me without your fish?”
“No, knave, it was merely the weaponiest thing I could wield,” Beelzebub will say, slipping into a stance for skirmish and struggle.
Clayton will calmly adopt a pose for protection, breathless for battle.
“Wait!” Bessie will cry, a line that will be hard to incorporate alliteration into by virtue of its being a single word. “If I give you my Almincing Jalor, will you leave us alone?”
Clayton will be unable to comprehend this coincidence but will quickly acquiesce. The artifact will be attained and the antagonist will abscond. Now that the most inconvenient object in the challenge will have been covered you'll never see or hear from him or it again. Their valentinic vacation violated by a voracious villain, the husband and his honey will hurry home.
Chapter 4
Returning to the Relevant Aspects of the Affair
The recital will now return to the recent raging ruckus between Bessie and the bloke who begat her.
“Och,” Lommán will begin since he's clearly speaking with a Scottish accent and stereotypically that's how we begin every sentence. “It's nae that ah'm no proud o' ye, petal, but yer horrible hubby wants tae filch ma farm!”
“Don't dare to doubt my man's motivations, foolish father!”
“It's alright, really, radiant and precocious partner,” Beelzebub will soothingly say. “Your father's accusation is accurate.”
“See, he doesnae even deign to deny it!” Lommán will loudly lament.
“Could it be that I've become confused as to my consort's conscience's calibration?” Bessie will cry.
Suddenly, the bride's bawling will be interrupted by a pounding on the portal.
“We're illiterate of being tired and we want to educate a pursuit!” the peasants will shout, who being illiterate are also capable of employing alliteration in their speech. Lucky for me, huh?
“Can anyone comprehend their calls?” Beelzebub will ask, clearly confused.
Unfortunately nobody else will know what they're talking about either.
“We're prepared to spring a moment into any action!” the peasants continue. “If our meat isn't demanded, 6 of us will work!”
There will be a moment of frustrated whispering from the other side of the door before the peasants will resume. “That is to say, we will work unceasingly! Cease! Cease working! Is what we'll do if you don't demand our meat!”
“Can we have your meat?” Lommán will ask.
“Yes! Now we can farm our resumés!” the peasants will cry happily. “Wait! No! This isn't all that's right! Give us a statement to get our minutes together.”
“I didn't know any of them could write minutes,” Bessie will remark, shock momentarily negating her ability to employ alliteration in her speech.
The peasants will fall silent for a while longer, during which there will be a great deal more quiet whispering, none of which will be alliterative. They will seem to have elected a representative from among themselves, who will continue talking along with the air of one who would really rather be doing absolutely anything else.
“We are tired of being alliterati--illiterate...and want to educate a pursu--pursue an education! If our demands are not meat--met! If our demands are not met, we will work unceasing--cease. We will cease working!”
“Describe your demands,” Lommán will say, for being much older and wiser than his daughter alliterative decorum comes more naturally to him even in the face of adversity.
“We want to leave your school and work on a farm! Wait...leave...farm...work...school. We want to leave your farm and work on a school! That's not right either, hang on...we want to leave your farm and go to school! So we can alliterate our teachings! So we can learn to be literate, I mean!”
“This serf with a stutter seems like an ominous author making the peasants look pathetic to pad out the paragraph,” Lommán will quite accurately remark. “However, the fourth wall is real for a reason and it would be blasphemous to break it. Back to the discourse being discussed, the peasants do not have my permission to parley with pedagogy! If you shoo, the shortage will surely result in ruin!”
Furious at the fullness their bellies don't feel, the peasants will cause pandemonium, rebelliously rising against their reprobate rulers. Lives will be lost and sanguine substances will be spilled, in a brutal bloodbath that will threaten to fold the farm.
Chapter 5
And They All Lived 'Appily Ever After
In the days and weeks that will follow the tragedy on the farm in which Lommán will be grievously wounded but thankfully not mortally so, it will be universally agreed that current events are far too serious to bother with silly things like alliteration.
Much to Lommán's chagrin the evil Beelzebub will take over the farm against Bessie's wishes, and for a while it will seem that the forces of darkness have won the day, until eventually it will be revealed that Beelzebub possesses an item called the Book of the Close which can close many things both literal, physical and mental, and his plan all along will have been to use it to close the poverty on the farm and improve living conditions for the peasants.
Having been humbled by the revelation, Bessie will settle into life as a banker's wife, popping out a bunch of kids and causing a great deal of controversy with the locals over the amount of child support she receives from the government. Her obsession with all things police-related will continue to be secret.
The peasants, having more free time and less starvation to worry about, will be able to get out and attain the education they always craved. The peasant who spoke up at the farm door will in fact become a world-famous diplomat and ambassador to many important people, renowned for his amazing speaking skills.
Clayton, who will never be seen or heard from again, will at some point be featured in the news having been “damaged greatly” for abusing the power of the Almincing Jalor, but nobody will notice.
And as it so happens, the entire story will turn out to have been lyrics to a song that someone was singing at karaoke.
Irili
3198
I'm going to go ahead and post mine here since Liberty is busy organizing stuff.
My regular info:
My Challenge Info:
And finally, my story:
My regular info:
Characters:
Alejandra Weimar
Vixen in stilettos, will walk on anyone to win.
Her past is riddled. Some rumours surround her love life in the inner rings of a crime world. It would explain all the problems that follow her around and the cold way she treats men.
Lommán Green
Grey-eyed and grey-haired, his jeans are ripped.
The son of the son of a farmer who inherited the family farm when he was 20, this now 52 year-old is in a bit of a pickle. His daughter is getting married and her fiancé is the local banker... who wants to steal the farm!
Aleisha Bracher
A magically talented young woman with black hair, blue eyes.
She is a promising apprentice of magic under a renowned wizard. She is at constant odds with a rivalling apprentice who isn’t above cheating to get her way. With the final exam of magic coming up, Aleisha is practicing extra hard so she may finally graduate into a full-fledged sorceress.
Location:
Stanley's Chocolate Factory
Stanley's factory was established in 1999. It was founded by him, his long-lost brother from Machu Picchu, and his other long-lost brother from Yugoslavia. The building was to be site of innovation-- Stanley and his brothers made the chocolate factory exactly 8 feet below ground level.
The building was made to resemble an 1800s chocolate factory. It was abandoned 1 year after construction, when they produced too much chocolate and it flooded the basement.
Object:
Book of the Close
A book of magic, made by a witch, made specifically for closing things. This may seem pointless at first, but when you realize it can close a relationship, a dimension, a portal, and many other things literal and mental, you would wish you had it!
Situation:
A rock is thrown through an expensive window.
Action:
Sitting under a shady tree to escape the heat.
Theme:
Unlikely Circumstances
Alejandra Weimar
Vixen in stilettos, will walk on anyone to win.
Her past is riddled. Some rumours surround her love life in the inner rings of a crime world. It would explain all the problems that follow her around and the cold way she treats men.
Lommán Green
Grey-eyed and grey-haired, his jeans are ripped.
The son of the son of a farmer who inherited the family farm when he was 20, this now 52 year-old is in a bit of a pickle. His daughter is getting married and her fiancé is the local banker... who wants to steal the farm!
Aleisha Bracher
A magically talented young woman with black hair, blue eyes.
She is a promising apprentice of magic under a renowned wizard. She is at constant odds with a rivalling apprentice who isn’t above cheating to get her way. With the final exam of magic coming up, Aleisha is practicing extra hard so she may finally graduate into a full-fledged sorceress.
Location:
Stanley's Chocolate Factory
Stanley's factory was established in 1999. It was founded by him, his long-lost brother from Machu Picchu, and his other long-lost brother from Yugoslavia. The building was to be site of innovation-- Stanley and his brothers made the chocolate factory exactly 8 feet below ground level.
The building was made to resemble an 1800s chocolate factory. It was abandoned 1 year after construction, when they produced too much chocolate and it flooded the basement.
Object:
Book of the Close
A book of magic, made by a witch, made specifically for closing things. This may seem pointless at first, but when you realize it can close a relationship, a dimension, a portal, and many other things literal and mental, you would wish you had it!
Situation:
A rock is thrown through an expensive window.
Action:
Sitting under a shady tree to escape the heat.
Theme:
Unlikely Circumstances
My Challenge Info:
Characters
Korn Lurothe (CORN LUE-RŌTH)
An elf with green eyes, silver hair, and moonlit skin.
She grew up with a hardened and cold heart, always having to fend for herself. On her own she practices magic and mastered communication with wolves and hawks. Due to her dangerous play with the arts, she affords many injuries that betray her inexperience and lack of good decisions.
Sebastian Kennedy
A middle-aged man, well preserved by expensive plastic surgery to retain the looks of his youth.
Sebastian was born into a rich family and started playing the stock market at the age of 16, like his father. The investment system his father developed has paid dividends and his lifestyle reflects this; Sebastian is used to only the very best, but his opulence has lost him the few friends he had and despite his fortune he's a bitterly lonely man.
Object
The Orb of Souls
A powerful artefact capable of separating a being's soul from its body and trapping it indefinitely, or until the user chooses to reunite them. Its history is oft-questioned, but there have been enough records of its use to more-or-less confirm its existence.
Rules
- You must have 1084 words - no more, no less.
You may choose two or more of the below rules to follow.
- You may only use 100 words with the letter 'e' in them.
- You must include no less than 5 famous quotes
- You cannot use the letter 'j' at all
- You cannot use any dialogue at all
The extra rules I picked are bolded.
Korn Lurothe (CORN LUE-RŌTH)
An elf with green eyes, silver hair, and moonlit skin.
She grew up with a hardened and cold heart, always having to fend for herself. On her own she practices magic and mastered communication with wolves and hawks. Due to her dangerous play with the arts, she affords many injuries that betray her inexperience and lack of good decisions.
Sebastian Kennedy
A middle-aged man, well preserved by expensive plastic surgery to retain the looks of his youth.
Sebastian was born into a rich family and started playing the stock market at the age of 16, like his father. The investment system his father developed has paid dividends and his lifestyle reflects this; Sebastian is used to only the very best, but his opulence has lost him the few friends he had and despite his fortune he's a bitterly lonely man.
Object
The Orb of Souls
A powerful artefact capable of separating a being's soul from its body and trapping it indefinitely, or until the user chooses to reunite them. Its history is oft-questioned, but there have been enough records of its use to more-or-less confirm its existence.
Rules
- You must have 1084 words - no more, no less.
You may choose two or more of the below rules to follow.
- You may only use 100 words with the letter 'e' in them.
- You must include no less than 5 famous quotes
- You cannot use the letter 'j' at all
- You cannot use any dialogue at all
The extra rules I picked are bolded.
And finally, my story:
The only thing that could spoil a day was people. Sitting under a shady tree to escape the heat, I thought about this amongst other things. Mostly though, I thought about the ants, crawling around on the ground near me.
Every day, people ruined the progress that they made, carelessly stepping on the mound. The ants would become enraged and then go back to rebuilding, their tunnels. I suppose I could be like the ants.
For four years, I have carefully searched for the Orb of Souls. I have made magical devices solely for finding the Orb. Many of my experiments backfired, harming me and others in the process. Finally, I figured out the machine, built it and found the location of the Orb.
It was on a small farm, on the outskirts of a bustling magical town. Or at least, it was on there until an idiot by the name of Lommán Green picked it up and threw it through the window of a bank!
Life's a funny thing. One minute, you're spending your days in the sun, making a living for your family; the next minute, your only daughter is getting married to your arch nemesis.
I've spent the past thirty years breathing the life back into this old farm my grandfather left me, starting a family of my own and providing for them by selling the fine produce I managed to coax from this land.
And now, I have only to watch as some up and coming, pampered bank boy attempts to steal my daughter from me but the farm I so lovingly built up as well! I have no doubt in my mind he's using my baby girl, but she won't hear a word against him.
It makes me so mad, I threw away one of my most precious possessions because of it; broke it in the process too. It's a perfectly round stone, or was. Beautiful, like a gem. I always carried it with me after I found it so many years ago on the farm. I had been planning to give it to my daughter when she married someday but I sure as hell wasn't going to if she was going to marry that damned thief!
After a fierce argument with her, I got so mad, I went right up to the bank that sleazeball worked at and threw the damn rock through one of those expensive stain-glass windows. That little creep must have been with a client because I saw a shocked looking man inside, gaping at the destruction. I didn't figure I should stick around so I high-tailed it back home as quick as I could.
I hope that banker looses that client of his.
Good god! The times are simply terrible now! A man can not even enjoy a consultation with his banker anymore without some ruffian vandalizing a fine establishment in plain daylight! It is simply enough to make my blood boil. I said as much to the man at the bank.
Needless to say, I took care of my business quickly after that crazed man threw a rock through the window and retired home. I was very excited to be home that day as it meant telling my beloved the good news; I had finally procured the famous Chocolate Factory that my love had wanted for such a long time.
I do not see the charm in an old fashioned building, but I am pleased if it pleases Alejandra. She was positively beaming when I told her the happy news. She insisted that we visit it immediately tomorrow and I could not deny her this.
I am quite happy that she is so ecstatic about her gift but I really would think she would have come to bed by now. It is almost three in the morning.
I have waited, plotted and planned for years, putting up with a buffoon of a man and playing along with his insipid love games. Now, the culmination of so many hard years is about to come to fruition.
My day began as it did on all others, a bit of rouge, some dark, red lipstick and black stilettos. I then proceeded to go on the trip of my lifetime. Stanley's Chocolate Factory, the resting place of the Book of Close, laid before me, the gates open wide. My only irritation was the odious company I had to keep, Sebastion Kennedy.
Not even he could ruin this for me though. No one could. As I proceeded to the upper floors of the factory, I could feel myself gaining strength. All the years of living in fear, all the nights I had to watch my back, all the people I had to use and throw to the side; it was all worth it and was about to come to an end.
At least, that's what I thought. Imagine the soul crushing feeling that ran through me when, upon reaching the final room in the factory, I discovered someone had already found the book and was in the process of snatching it from my hands.
I will find this black haired girl. And when I do, I will crush her.
Today, I perform the final ceremony that will mark me becoming a full fledged sorceress. I've worked towards this since I was nine years old, when I first became the Wizard's apprentice.
I guess I have my rival for this day though. Without her cheating, backstabbing ways, I never would have thought of the best way to pass my final exam. She had learned beforehand what the final exam was and felt the need to share her knowledge; not from any sort of concern for me, but because she knew I would not be prepared.
The final exam was proper use of a magical artifact. Since I came from a poor family, I of course had nothing of my own to practice with, nor anything to use on the exam. Instead of giving up, like she thought I would, I instead went after the most hidden artifact known to the magical world, the Book of the Close.
Some clever deduction and a few tweaks to a scrying crystal later and I had myself a magical artifact of my very own. The look on her face at the final exam was priceless and my master was most impressed with my ingenuity.
My only worry now is the fierce looking woman that almost caught me as I escaped with the book.
Every day, people ruined the progress that they made, carelessly stepping on the mound. The ants would become enraged and then go back to rebuilding, their tunnels. I suppose I could be like the ants.
For four years, I have carefully searched for the Orb of Souls. I have made magical devices solely for finding the Orb. Many of my experiments backfired, harming me and others in the process. Finally, I figured out the machine, built it and found the location of the Orb.
It was on a small farm, on the outskirts of a bustling magical town. Or at least, it was on there until an idiot by the name of Lommán Green picked it up and threw it through the window of a bank!
Life's a funny thing. One minute, you're spending your days in the sun, making a living for your family; the next minute, your only daughter is getting married to your arch nemesis.
I've spent the past thirty years breathing the life back into this old farm my grandfather left me, starting a family of my own and providing for them by selling the fine produce I managed to coax from this land.
And now, I have only to watch as some up and coming, pampered bank boy attempts to steal my daughter from me but the farm I so lovingly built up as well! I have no doubt in my mind he's using my baby girl, but she won't hear a word against him.
It makes me so mad, I threw away one of my most precious possessions because of it; broke it in the process too. It's a perfectly round stone, or was. Beautiful, like a gem. I always carried it with me after I found it so many years ago on the farm. I had been planning to give it to my daughter when she married someday but I sure as hell wasn't going to if she was going to marry that damned thief!
After a fierce argument with her, I got so mad, I went right up to the bank that sleazeball worked at and threw the damn rock through one of those expensive stain-glass windows. That little creep must have been with a client because I saw a shocked looking man inside, gaping at the destruction. I didn't figure I should stick around so I high-tailed it back home as quick as I could.
I hope that banker looses that client of his.
Good god! The times are simply terrible now! A man can not even enjoy a consultation with his banker anymore without some ruffian vandalizing a fine establishment in plain daylight! It is simply enough to make my blood boil. I said as much to the man at the bank.
Needless to say, I took care of my business quickly after that crazed man threw a rock through the window and retired home. I was very excited to be home that day as it meant telling my beloved the good news; I had finally procured the famous Chocolate Factory that my love had wanted for such a long time.
I do not see the charm in an old fashioned building, but I am pleased if it pleases Alejandra. She was positively beaming when I told her the happy news. She insisted that we visit it immediately tomorrow and I could not deny her this.
I am quite happy that she is so ecstatic about her gift but I really would think she would have come to bed by now. It is almost three in the morning.
I have waited, plotted and planned for years, putting up with a buffoon of a man and playing along with his insipid love games. Now, the culmination of so many hard years is about to come to fruition.
My day began as it did on all others, a bit of rouge, some dark, red lipstick and black stilettos. I then proceeded to go on the trip of my lifetime. Stanley's Chocolate Factory, the resting place of the Book of Close, laid before me, the gates open wide. My only irritation was the odious company I had to keep, Sebastion Kennedy.
Not even he could ruin this for me though. No one could. As I proceeded to the upper floors of the factory, I could feel myself gaining strength. All the years of living in fear, all the nights I had to watch my back, all the people I had to use and throw to the side; it was all worth it and was about to come to an end.
At least, that's what I thought. Imagine the soul crushing feeling that ran through me when, upon reaching the final room in the factory, I discovered someone had already found the book and was in the process of snatching it from my hands.
I will find this black haired girl. And when I do, I will crush her.
Today, I perform the final ceremony that will mark me becoming a full fledged sorceress. I've worked towards this since I was nine years old, when I first became the Wizard's apprentice.
I guess I have my rival for this day though. Without her cheating, backstabbing ways, I never would have thought of the best way to pass my final exam. She had learned beforehand what the final exam was and felt the need to share her knowledge; not from any sort of concern for me, but because she knew I would not be prepared.
The final exam was proper use of a magical artifact. Since I came from a poor family, I of course had nothing of my own to practice with, nor anything to use on the exam. Instead of giving up, like she thought I would, I instead went after the most hidden artifact known to the magical world, the Book of the Close.
Some clever deduction and a few tweaks to a scrying crystal later and I had myself a magical artifact of my very own. The look on her face at the final exam was priceless and my master was most impressed with my ingenuity.
My only worry now is the fierce looking woman that almost caught me as I escaped with the book.
