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valis2First entry (art)
Second entry (art)
Third entry (fic) (Fourth World)
Fourth entry (fic) (Fifth World)
Fifth entry (fic) (Sixth World part one)
Sixth entry (fic) (Sixth World part two)
Seventh entry (fic) (Sixth World part three)
This world is pretty angsty. No floating cats.
Hey,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iibnf drew me floating cat fanart! squee!
"Here we are," announced Joml, gesturing towards the murky forest around them. "Fifth World, Ancheron Swamp, I believe. Home of assorted bandits."
"Who lives on this world?" asked Wiglaf.
Despite the fact that I've just said bandits, it does make sense that Wiglaf is asking that question, because they could be, you know, bandit cats. Seriously.
"Humans," said Joml. "Another boring medieval world. I think there's a few differences, such as a lot more sea and less people--"
"Because there's no farmland," finished D'monle.
"Exactly," said Joml. "Other than that, I know nothing about this world."
I don't know? But I'm supposed to be the guide! That's it, we're screwed.
Omitted: Boring conversation.
Omitted by fourteen year old me: An entire page (crossed out) where we are surrounded and menaced by a bandit named...wait for it...Vertigo Alsance.
Okay, back to the action. PS: our little ragtag group of warriors was called the Diamond. I have no idea why.
The rest of the Diamond trailed loosely behind her as Joml tred the narrow path. It wandered aimlessly among the trees, scattered across the tree roots, only a thin trail of brown against the murky black of the swamp floor.
D'monle sighed as she looked behind her for the twenty-first time. The dark surroundings of the forest were quiet, and she didn't have to be a shaman to sense the tangible trace of evil that crept around the fog. Wiglaf and Charbonneau talked quietly, glancing often into the trees, their eyes darting among the shadows.
Joml stopped short, and Charbonneau plowed into her. "Watch it!" he hissed. She ignored him and knelt down, looking at the small clearing in front of them. It was a circle about four feet wide, made of the same packed dirt of the trail. Small, oblong stones were cast randomly about the circle, their black polished surfaces winking forlornly in the dim light.
"Winking forlornly in the dim light" is hysterical. That is definitely going to be a journal subname in the near future.
"What's wrong?" asked Charbonneau, puzzled.
Omitted: Incomprehensible (even to me) discussion of the "power type" of the circle.
"An old power ring," said Joml, the awe in her voice apparent.
"What does it do?" he asked.
"What do you think it does?" snapped Joml. "Evidently there is an extremely spiritual race on this planet, or else they never would have circled this spot. It's a power point, but it's very weak." She paused, and traced an arcane symbol in the dirt in front of her. "It's old, and somewhat evil, though I don't know who turned it that way..."
Omitted: Everyone arguing over what the symbol means. Joml thinks that it's from a book called The Ways of Life (the Visionary Symbol), Charbonneau insists it is the Visionary Symbol, and D'monle thinks it is the Bane of Shade.
"Can we cross it?" asked Charbonneau.
Joml thought for a moment, her eyes still watching the stones carefully. "I don't know," she said finally. "It shouldn't hurt us, but it might."
"What are we going to do, then?" he asked.
"Well, maybe Wiglaf can hold back the psychic forces."
"I guess so," said Wiglaf. "But I need extra power, and I haven't got the Leethstone anymore."
"D'monle, you got a power source?" asked Joml.
"No," said D'monle. "Can you conjure one?'
"Never tried," said Joml. "I don't know if it'll work or not."
"Well, you can try," said Wiglaf cheerfully.
"Okay," said Joml. "But I can't promise you anything." She closed her eyes and a small pinpoint of light appeared in the palm of her hand. "Pour forth, Great Spirit, into this mundane crudeness your own heart's blood," she said passing her other hand above it. The light turned into a small silver coin inscribed with a wolf. The token turned red, then silver again, showing that the coin was blessed. Joml handed it to Wiglaf. "Careful, this is the good stuff," she said, grinning.
"Alright," said Wiglaf. "Everybody follow me, and don't be surprised at anything."
Yes, because surprise leads to fear, which leads to ruthless efficiency and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope.
D'monle watched as Wiglaf walked across the circle. The black shards began to glow from within, but instead of radiating light, they radiated blackness, like some strange patch of night. Joml began to follow her and Charbonneau also. D'monle stepped into the ring. There was a feeling of pressure under feet, like some strange force was pushing upward. The darkness grew from the stones, enveloping the circle just as Charbonneau stepped out of the ring.
Suffocating blackness surrounded D'monle. Her very soul was tormented by the evil that rose underfoot. She frowned deeply. Her sword was unsheathed in a moment, its keen blade whistling slightly as she stood in the black. She changed her clothes into a ninja suit and waited.
Nope, I have no idea how she did that. But it is pretty surreal.
There was a slight hushed noise and the black lifted, but there remained a wall of darkness between her and the rest of the Diamond. The floor changed into some sort of polished black rock, the original stones spreading across the ground to join each other.
There was a noise behind D'monle. She spun around to face the strangest creature she had ever seen.
It was a minature tornado, about 5 feet tall. Pure red eyes faced her, glowing deeply. Two hands with three inch long claws extended from either side. D'monle had no doubt that they were razor sharp.
The dust devil advanced towards her. The ring, formally 4' in diameter, now exceeded ten. D'monle cautiously tapped the floor behind her, making sure the new surface was solid. She stepped backwards, never taking her eyes off the devil.
The claws swiped at her. She ducked the blow and thrust her sword a foot into the devil. Only the tip of her blade was slightly covered with blood when she withdrew it, but the dervish backed up slightly. She raised her sword to slash again, but the devil's hand dissapeared into the whirling air and reappeared in time to yank the blade from her hand and throw it, to clatter against the stone. D'monle grabbed a dagger and took a step back and pressed up against the wall. Ther dervish flew forwards to engulf her. As a last desperate move she lunged forward and tackled the thing around its middle. The claws tore through her shoulders as she hugged its waist, propelling it forward. The winds inside of the devil were deafening. Dust flew in her eyes, blinding her. She rand forward with the dervish frantically clawing her back apart, its cruel black talons agony. She tripped over her sword and fell backwards, her head hitting the stone with a crack. She plunged into unconsciousness and then dove into an old memory...
Omitted: Flashback, I think, of some sort of ninja training for D'monle. She is in the middle of a training area. Novice ninjas are everywhere, armed with, ahem, "paintswords". She must be out of the area by sunset, and she must not have a single trace of paint on her clothes when she's done or she will have failed. And then she regains consciousness...
She was disorientated for a few moments until she saw the dust devil on the other side of the circle slowly reassembling itself. She rose shakily to her feet and picked up her sword. Perhaps she could kill it before it reformed. She eased a throwing dagger from its sheath and threw, conscious of her aching shoulders. The dervish flew against the wall and crumpled, dust flying everywhere. D'monle walked towards the devil and poked it with her sword. The dervish reformed suddenly and hit her across the face. D'monle flailed wildly, her cheek in blazing pain. She felt blood pouring from the single cut. The devil hovered before her, ready to kill.
I feel I must point out that my fourteen year old self had written a note in the margin that both quotes Princess Bride and celebrates Pink Floyd.
She caught her balance and swung at the creature, catching it in the side. The dust by the cut turned red, and the dervish wobbled slightly. It lunged at her and she frantically shoved her blade at it to no avail. It caught her up in its arms and she coughed harshly as the dust found its way down her throat. She wildly tore at it with her dagger. She found herself oddly thinking about the embrace of death while she struggled to breath. She fell backwards and just as she was ready to black out she felt strong hands pulling her out of the circle. Daylight burned in her eyes as she stood wobbily.
The black wall fragmented and Charbonneau saw D'monle standing beyond it. Crimson blood soaked through all of her clothes. Her right cheek sported a bloody gash and her back was torn to shreds. Chargonneau, Wiglaf and Joml broke out into a run through the muck because D'monle was on the other side of the circle.
D'monle looked towards them, then fell backwards.
Joml ran forward through knee-deep mud and rushed to her friend's side. She took Joml's wrist in her hand, then pressed her neck.
What is it with all the mud?
Okay, now we're leading up to a famous bit that we still joke about today. I was writing this during second hour of 10th grade, I think, and my friendblumsmile/D'monle was reading it during third hour. So she reads this bit:
"No heartbeat," said Joml in a toneless voice that smashed into the bottom of the now-three's souls.
She handed the notebook to me after third hour and said, "You only gave me one line to die in?"
In the margins she has "Develop this a little more" written. Hee!
"D'monle," said Joml. "What happened?"
"There was a devil," said D'monle, her breathing rapid.
"Take it easy," smiled CHarbonneau, but there was fear in his eyes.
"I'm cold," said D'monle, her expression faraway and distant. A shadow passed over her eyes.
"D'monle?" asked Wiglaf in a strangled voice. "D'monle? C'mon, D'monle."
There was a final breath as D'monle, Defender of the Diamond, last of the House of Talijmth, died and rose above the other mortals that sat around her old habitat.
"She's gone," said Joml, her eyes closed in quiet grief.
"No," said Wiglaf, backing away. "No. She's not dead." Her voice began to rise. "She can't be! She can't!" She began to scream, her whole soul recoiling against the blow.
Charbonneau stood dumbfounded. Wiglaf's screaming faded into the distant hush of the background. All he could see was D'monle laughing, her white teeth flashing in the light. Flying jets. Standing angrily in the midst of her trashed and robbed house. Grinning at her dogs as she petted them. Planting flowers and blowing enemy bombers out of the sky.
That last line is...wow.
And keeping in line with everything having more than one name (even though as I have retyped this I've limited all the characters to one name instead of three)...Lifestone = Leethstone.
Joml cast around the swamp. Nowhere for even a decent burial. Anger began to rise within her. "Lifestone, you liar!" she yelled. "You told me that we couldn't die! You promised!" Her voice echoed dully in the swamp. She sat down heavily on the trail and held her head in her hands. "What the hell am I going to tell the Navy?" she moaned. "How am I going to tell her parents, for that matter?"
Hi, Mister Admiral Guy. I was just calling you to let you know that D'monle was killed by a Tasmanian Devil. Yep, you heard that correctly. She won't be reporting for duty anytime soon.
The rest of the night was a blur. Charbonneau remembered almost nothing except for a figure clad in shadows who lifted up D'monle's body and carried her up into the heavens.
Omitted: Awful dialogue about how the Lifestone couldn't protect D'monle because she was on a power point.
Oh, I can't resist. Here's one line:
Joml jumped to her feet, her eyes blazing. "Just cuz I don't bawl my eyes out doesn't mean I don't care," she said in a lethal whisper.
And he that heard the whisper, perished.
...and then they would leave Ancheron Swamp behind. Forever.
To be continued...
Second entry (art)
Third entry (fic) (Fourth World)
Fourth entry (fic) (Fifth World)
Fifth entry (fic) (Sixth World part one)
Sixth entry (fic) (Sixth World part two)
Seventh entry (fic) (Sixth World part three)
This world is pretty angsty. No floating cats.
Hey,
iibnf drew me floating cat fanart! squee!"Here we are," announced Joml, gesturing towards the murky forest around them. "Fifth World, Ancheron Swamp, I believe. Home of assorted bandits."
"Who lives on this world?" asked Wiglaf.
Despite the fact that I've just said bandits, it does make sense that Wiglaf is asking that question, because they could be, you know, bandit cats. Seriously.
"Humans," said Joml. "Another boring medieval world. I think there's a few differences, such as a lot more sea and less people--"
"Because there's no farmland," finished D'monle.
"Exactly," said Joml. "Other than that, I know nothing about this world."
I don't know? But I'm supposed to be the guide! That's it, we're screwed.
Omitted: Boring conversation.
Omitted by fourteen year old me: An entire page (crossed out) where we are surrounded and menaced by a bandit named...wait for it...Vertigo Alsance.
Okay, back to the action. PS: our little ragtag group of warriors was called the Diamond. I have no idea why.
The rest of the Diamond trailed loosely behind her as Joml tred the narrow path. It wandered aimlessly among the trees, scattered across the tree roots, only a thin trail of brown against the murky black of the swamp floor.
D'monle sighed as she looked behind her for the twenty-first time. The dark surroundings of the forest were quiet, and she didn't have to be a shaman to sense the tangible trace of evil that crept around the fog. Wiglaf and Charbonneau talked quietly, glancing often into the trees, their eyes darting among the shadows.
Joml stopped short, and Charbonneau plowed into her. "Watch it!" he hissed. She ignored him and knelt down, looking at the small clearing in front of them. It was a circle about four feet wide, made of the same packed dirt of the trail. Small, oblong stones were cast randomly about the circle, their black polished surfaces winking forlornly in the dim light.
"Winking forlornly in the dim light" is hysterical. That is definitely going to be a journal subname in the near future.
"What's wrong?" asked Charbonneau, puzzled.
Omitted: Incomprehensible (even to me) discussion of the "power type" of the circle.
"An old power ring," said Joml, the awe in her voice apparent.
"What does it do?" he asked.
"What do you think it does?" snapped Joml. "Evidently there is an extremely spiritual race on this planet, or else they never would have circled this spot. It's a power point, but it's very weak." She paused, and traced an arcane symbol in the dirt in front of her. "It's old, and somewhat evil, though I don't know who turned it that way..."
Omitted: Everyone arguing over what the symbol means. Joml thinks that it's from a book called The Ways of Life (the Visionary Symbol), Charbonneau insists it is the Visionary Symbol, and D'monle thinks it is the Bane of Shade.
"Can we cross it?" asked Charbonneau.
Joml thought for a moment, her eyes still watching the stones carefully. "I don't know," she said finally. "It shouldn't hurt us, but it might."
"What are we going to do, then?" he asked.
"Well, maybe Wiglaf can hold back the psychic forces."
"I guess so," said Wiglaf. "But I need extra power, and I haven't got the Leethstone anymore."
"D'monle, you got a power source?" asked Joml.
"No," said D'monle. "Can you conjure one?'
"Never tried," said Joml. "I don't know if it'll work or not."
"Well, you can try," said Wiglaf cheerfully.
"Okay," said Joml. "But I can't promise you anything." She closed her eyes and a small pinpoint of light appeared in the palm of her hand. "Pour forth, Great Spirit, into this mundane crudeness your own heart's blood," she said passing her other hand above it. The light turned into a small silver coin inscribed with a wolf. The token turned red, then silver again, showing that the coin was blessed. Joml handed it to Wiglaf. "Careful, this is the good stuff," she said, grinning.
"Alright," said Wiglaf. "Everybody follow me, and don't be surprised at anything."
Yes, because surprise leads to fear, which leads to ruthless efficiency and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope.
D'monle watched as Wiglaf walked across the circle. The black shards began to glow from within, but instead of radiating light, they radiated blackness, like some strange patch of night. Joml began to follow her and Charbonneau also. D'monle stepped into the ring. There was a feeling of pressure under feet, like some strange force was pushing upward. The darkness grew from the stones, enveloping the circle just as Charbonneau stepped out of the ring.
Suffocating blackness surrounded D'monle. Her very soul was tormented by the evil that rose underfoot. She frowned deeply. Her sword was unsheathed in a moment, its keen blade whistling slightly as she stood in the black. She changed her clothes into a ninja suit and waited.
Nope, I have no idea how she did that. But it is pretty surreal.
There was a slight hushed noise and the black lifted, but there remained a wall of darkness between her and the rest of the Diamond. The floor changed into some sort of polished black rock, the original stones spreading across the ground to join each other.
There was a noise behind D'monle. She spun around to face the strangest creature she had ever seen.
It was a minature tornado, about 5 feet tall. Pure red eyes faced her, glowing deeply. Two hands with three inch long claws extended from either side. D'monle had no doubt that they were razor sharp.
The dust devil advanced towards her. The ring, formally 4' in diameter, now exceeded ten. D'monle cautiously tapped the floor behind her, making sure the new surface was solid. She stepped backwards, never taking her eyes off the devil.
The claws swiped at her. She ducked the blow and thrust her sword a foot into the devil. Only the tip of her blade was slightly covered with blood when she withdrew it, but the dervish backed up slightly. She raised her sword to slash again, but the devil's hand dissapeared into the whirling air and reappeared in time to yank the blade from her hand and throw it, to clatter against the stone. D'monle grabbed a dagger and took a step back and pressed up against the wall. Ther dervish flew forwards to engulf her. As a last desperate move she lunged forward and tackled the thing around its middle. The claws tore through her shoulders as she hugged its waist, propelling it forward. The winds inside of the devil were deafening. Dust flew in her eyes, blinding her. She rand forward with the dervish frantically clawing her back apart, its cruel black talons agony. She tripped over her sword and fell backwards, her head hitting the stone with a crack. She plunged into unconsciousness and then dove into an old memory...
Omitted: Flashback, I think, of some sort of ninja training for D'monle. She is in the middle of a training area. Novice ninjas are everywhere, armed with, ahem, "paintswords". She must be out of the area by sunset, and she must not have a single trace of paint on her clothes when she's done or she will have failed. And then she regains consciousness...
She was disorientated for a few moments until she saw the dust devil on the other side of the circle slowly reassembling itself. She rose shakily to her feet and picked up her sword. Perhaps she could kill it before it reformed. She eased a throwing dagger from its sheath and threw, conscious of her aching shoulders. The dervish flew against the wall and crumpled, dust flying everywhere. D'monle walked towards the devil and poked it with her sword. The dervish reformed suddenly and hit her across the face. D'monle flailed wildly, her cheek in blazing pain. She felt blood pouring from the single cut. The devil hovered before her, ready to kill.
I feel I must point out that my fourteen year old self had written a note in the margin that both quotes Princess Bride and celebrates Pink Floyd.
She caught her balance and swung at the creature, catching it in the side. The dust by the cut turned red, and the dervish wobbled slightly. It lunged at her and she frantically shoved her blade at it to no avail. It caught her up in its arms and she coughed harshly as the dust found its way down her throat. She wildly tore at it with her dagger. She found herself oddly thinking about the embrace of death while she struggled to breath. She fell backwards and just as she was ready to black out she felt strong hands pulling her out of the circle. Daylight burned in her eyes as she stood wobbily.
The black wall fragmented and Charbonneau saw D'monle standing beyond it. Crimson blood soaked through all of her clothes. Her right cheek sported a bloody gash and her back was torn to shreds. Chargonneau, Wiglaf and Joml broke out into a run through the muck because D'monle was on the other side of the circle.
D'monle looked towards them, then fell backwards.
Joml ran forward through knee-deep mud and rushed to her friend's side. She took Joml's wrist in her hand, then pressed her neck.
What is it with all the mud?
Okay, now we're leading up to a famous bit that we still joke about today. I was writing this during second hour of 10th grade, I think, and my friend
blumsmile/D'monle was reading it during third hour. So she reads this bit:"No heartbeat," said Joml in a toneless voice that smashed into the bottom of the now-three's souls.
She handed the notebook to me after third hour and said, "You only gave me one line to die in?"
In the margins she has "Develop this a little more" written. Hee!
"D'monle," said Joml. "What happened?"
"There was a devil," said D'monle, her breathing rapid.
"Take it easy," smiled CHarbonneau, but there was fear in his eyes.
"I'm cold," said D'monle, her expression faraway and distant. A shadow passed over her eyes.
"D'monle?" asked Wiglaf in a strangled voice. "D'monle? C'mon, D'monle."
There was a final breath as D'monle, Defender of the Diamond, last of the House of Talijmth, died and rose above the other mortals that sat around her old habitat.
"She's gone," said Joml, her eyes closed in quiet grief.
"No," said Wiglaf, backing away. "No. She's not dead." Her voice began to rise. "She can't be! She can't!" She began to scream, her whole soul recoiling against the blow.
Charbonneau stood dumbfounded. Wiglaf's screaming faded into the distant hush of the background. All he could see was D'monle laughing, her white teeth flashing in the light. Flying jets. Standing angrily in the midst of her trashed and robbed house. Grinning at her dogs as she petted them. Planting flowers and blowing enemy bombers out of the sky.
That last line is...wow.
And keeping in line with everything having more than one name (even though as I have retyped this I've limited all the characters to one name instead of three)...Lifestone = Leethstone.
Joml cast around the swamp. Nowhere for even a decent burial. Anger began to rise within her. "Lifestone, you liar!" she yelled. "You told me that we couldn't die! You promised!" Her voice echoed dully in the swamp. She sat down heavily on the trail and held her head in her hands. "What the hell am I going to tell the Navy?" she moaned. "How am I going to tell her parents, for that matter?"
Hi, Mister Admiral Guy. I was just calling you to let you know that D'monle was killed by a Tasmanian Devil. Yep, you heard that correctly. She won't be reporting for duty anytime soon.
The rest of the night was a blur. Charbonneau remembered almost nothing except for a figure clad in shadows who lifted up D'monle's body and carried her up into the heavens.
Omitted: Awful dialogue about how the Lifestone couldn't protect D'monle because she was on a power point.
Oh, I can't resist. Here's one line:
Joml jumped to her feet, her eyes blazing. "Just cuz I don't bawl my eyes out doesn't mean I don't care," she said in a lethal whisper.
And he that heard the whisper, perished.
...and then they would leave Ancheron Swamp behind. Forever.
To be continued...
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-29 10:23 am (UTC)This is my favourite, if only because in my mind he is a flamboyant poseur with a large mustache, who announces himself all "I am Verrrt-EEE-go Al-SON-saaay!"
a ninja suit
This would be much cooler if it was actually a suit that was a ninja. It's the ultimate infiltrator! And then suddenly it stops hanging in your closet and begins firing shuriken from its sleeves - no-one would see it coming.
She found herself oddly thinking about the embrace of death while she struggled to breath.
'Oddly'? Because no normal person thinks about death while being mauled by a tornado demon and struggling to breathe?
"You only gave me one line to die in?"
But that's the genius of it! It's shocking, it's abrupt, it's a genuine depiction of the swiftness with which tornado demon attacks take our loved ones from us!
(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-29 01:00 pm (UTC)hahah!! Exactly my mental image as well. Though I'm certain that my fourteen year old self is huffing in a corner, all indignant that we made fun of her character.
But that's the genius of it! It's shocking, it's abrupt, it's a genuine depiction of the swiftness with which tornado demon attacks take our loved ones from us!
I think we should gather lots of pop stars together and write a musical tribute to benefit victims of the tornado demons.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-29 10:34 pm (UTC)I'm taking bets on this name showing up in HP7. Or as Anthony Hopkins' next starring role.
our little ragtag group of warriors was called the Diamond.
Would you rather have been called "the Trio"?
All he could see was D'monle laughing, her white teeth flashing in the light. Flying jets. Standing angrily in the midst of her trashed and robbed house. Grinning at her dogs as she petted them. Planting flowers and blowing enemy bombers out of the sky.
That last line is...wow.
ROFL! Sounds like a political ad.
...and then they would leave Ancheron Swamp behind. Forever.
Aw.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-29 10:47 pm (UTC)Ha!! Well, hell, we already have Rufus Scrimgeour...
Would you rather have been called "the Trio"?
Heh...the Quartet of Craziness on crack is more like it...
Aw.
No, trust me, it's a good thing. There's a lot less angst when you leave the swamp.
one line to die in
Date: 2005-11-03 07:29 pm (UTC)One line to die? I still remember that - complete with the 14 year old melodrama...heh heh. I was way too dramatic back then
Re: one line to die in
Date: 2005-11-04 01:48 am (UTC)It really is fun to read now...it brings back such vivid memories of high school.
Now if I could only find the red book...