December Writing Competition



A great opportunity for writers to showcase their talent.

Moderators: Feral Female, Miles_Warren, Feral Female, Miles_Warren

December Writing Competition

Miles_Warren
Eternal
Joined: 24 Feb 2013, 00:05

09 Dec 2015, 18:09 #1

Welcome to the December writing competition :guitar: Please read the rules before entering

http://z3.invisionfree.com/Mickeys_Comi ... opic=11460

Some important info for this month:

1) Entrants have until December 27th 4pm EST to submit an entry for the competition

2) Voting will then open for entrants before closing on December 29th 4pm EST

3) Voting for non-entrants will then open before closing on December 30th 4pm EST

Best of luck to all entrants

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SciRob
Inhuman
Joined: 10 Apr 2010, 04:34

11 Dec 2015, 09:55 #2

Are we allowed to submit something original?
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Miles_Warren
Eternal
Joined: 24 Feb 2013, 00:05

11 Dec 2015, 18:17 #3

SciRob @ Dec 11 2015, 09:55 AM wrote: Are we allowed to submit something original?
Of course! :thbsup: Write about whatever you want!
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SciRob
Inhuman
Joined: 10 Apr 2010, 04:34

12 Dec 2015, 13:11 #4

Gotcha, thanks for that!
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Joined: 03 Oct 2013, 20:56

12 Dec 2015, 16:34 #5

Of course, my busy-ness has only gotten busier. Still, I've got a story in mind.
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ewkada
Inhuman
Joined: 21 Dec 2013, 01:44

15 Dec 2015, 10:25 #6

Haia [happy]
I will place a love story
:aww:
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ewkada
Inhuman
Joined: 21 Dec 2013, 01:44

15 Dec 2015, 21:34 #7

heheh, as promised...
I own nothing which isn't mine

----------------------------------------------

Sweet, so sweet…

---

Thor ordered Nadi, the third treasurer, to oversee the studies of Kerdas’ daughter at Zhado. Why Nadi? Because having worked for the king for many years, he proved himself to be pedantically precise, anyway he had been doing the same already for Kirk.

So this way the king’s budget had been significantly reduced to low numbers, and Thor? He was actually satisfied to have Kirk at hand, and when Kirk was gone to the Giants, he used to visit Loki and his little son Kiran, for a while only, as after his fight with the dragon he wasn’t sure at all, that another one wouldn’t get out of the Dragon Lake, the same way as the first one did – the guardians came to that conclusion by checking footprints that it had left close to the dead snakes, the taste of which this dragon apparently disliked.

Zhado however Thor avoided from afar, he didn’t want to embarrass Ejsha; and he didn’t want her to feel supervised either. He wasn’t aware however, how eagerly she waited for him to come and how much hurt she felt realizing, that Thor was visiting all the other institutes but not Zhado. She felt she was being treated like a child, she even felt dishonored, as no one had asked her, what she would have liked to get as repayment of the king’s life-debt, while it was her, who came back for him and risked her life to save him and had lost one of her plaits. Oh yes! Her hair became a real problem to her: the Terians, to her and her parents’ surprise had accepted smoothly the explanation about her hair-cutting, but the Asgardians hadn’t: they had all the time additional questions and asked Ejsha directly, also in Zhado. So Ejsha found it quite difficult to answer them and not to show her feelings. The best reaction came from the guardians – her colleagues and teachers organized a party for her (unfortunately to say goodbye to her), there were numerous contests and sparring, and many rewards, Ejsha again had to prepare the sweetes… what a pity that Thor hadn’t come…

Zhado was a tough school; Ejsha was quite behind with her knowledge of the world. With time Asgardians accepted her presence, she chose words wisely looking directly at them with her huge violet eyes, and with that she had changed their stereotype of a simple and timid Terian-girl. In the end her Asgardian colleagues used to say, that it is better not to argue with her, because she’s both: a born politician and a warrior, and she can cut with her tongue as well as with her sword. No matter what their opinion was, Ejsha had to do more than enough, it helped her much that she was a sort of a painstaking student, but her heart remained sad; with time this sadness had been surrounded by an unbreakable wall, especially that she had no possibility to dance and rarely could only flee to the hugebirds to play the flute for them.

---

This way another three years had passed. Ejsha, if she hoped, that Thor would appear for her eighteenth birthday, must have been totally disappointed. Zhado was over soon, in the end Nadi came to confirm in the name of the king the repayment of king’s life-debt. Her colleagues slowly decided on their lifetime job, but she still didn’t know, what to do with herself. Finally she had chosen something in-between: a training in a cotton mill placed not far away from her home. There she unexpectedly breathed with relief: she felt free and relaxed in the huge cotton fields, then in the spinning rooms and after some months she was directed to the weaving rooms. The beauty of the woven fabrics, calming atmosphere, respect shown for her advices, though she was the youngest there – all of that helped her to smile freely again and her feelings towards Thor hurt her significantly less and less. Several times she saw transporters with her Asgardian colleagues from the Zhado’ time passing by the cotton mill; they welcomed each other heartily, even more friendly than during their school-days not so long ago, so that finally Ejsha invited them to visit her at work.

They came on the agreed day, the whole school group, noisy and merry like children on their first visit to the nests of the brown hugebirds. Ejsha started by wandering through the vast cotton fields: they learned how to pick the cotton placed between the long, thin spikes. Then they returned to the courtyard and there they were surprised by Thor.

Ejsha at this moment was describing the works that should be done in the specified order, so Thor decided to keep discretely behind the group and listened to her. He saw how young she was, how perfectly she felt among her colleagues, while he felt old in their presence, too old to…

- The king! – one of the Asgardian girls gasped and choked suddenly so that others laughed spontaneously.

– Be greeted! – he said – I see today you have your Anniversary Day! –

– No, not exactly, the daughter of Kerdas shows us the cotton mill –

– Great! It is a good job to lead such a company –

– My king, this is not my job yet, sort of a training only, as I haven’t decided yet on my future –
The sound of her voice, suddenly so sad and melancholic, like her playing on the flute, made him feel emotional again – Could I join you, if you don’t consider me too old for you? – he asked.

They didn’t reject his age at once; it was obvious that they planned a party afterwards, and the king… well… would spoil it.

– Of course, my king, I will show you everything I know, but we won’t go back to the cotton fields anymore – Ejsha was the first to answer looking at him with her huge eyes, straight and firmly.

– She has grown up in the meantime – Thor thought slightly surprised by her distance – Thank you – he answered – and then I would like to invite you to our rifle-range and later to a short dinner… I know the youth… you must have some fancy plans for this evening already –

They smiled to him shyly.

– Well… I also studied at Zhado once… -

---

They went through the spinning rooms, then through the weaving rooms; Ejsha was quite satisfied, that she liked to understand the things, that she had to deal with, so now she had the opportunity to show her knowledge. The presence of Thor made her feel secure and minute after minute the events from the past suppressed in Zhado came back more and more lively. Feeling better she went through the laundry and dye-rooms describing with growing passion further details of machines and their functions.

Finally they came to the packing-department: there the fabrics were cut according to requirements – in the huge hall could be seen bales, huge sheets folded in quarters, all of them in different sizes, one could find there even ribbons used for making yokes and bags, also of different lengths. When Ejsha showed her colleagues the ribbons, one just jumped out of her grasp quickly unfolding itself.. Ejsha managed to catch its end and started quickly to fold it again, throwing up the rest so that it wouldn’t touch the dusty floor.

– On Midheim – Thor remarked – the humans organize contests in throwing up similar ribbons, some meters long; they dance to that –

Ejsha smiled mischievously, then sent the almost folded ribbon up and caught its end afterwards turning around with the ribbon and again threw it up, she repeated it several times dancing with the ribbon. The rest were laughing merrily and encouraged her.

Thor watched her with surprise – The youth – he thought – Just give them any idea or opportunity and they will surely try it! –

Finally to the disappointment of her colleagues Ejsha started to fold her ribbon.

– She’s great! – one of the young Asgardians whispered – What a pity that she’s Terian –

Thor frowned, but pretended not to have heard this… it wouldn’t help the young if their king started to philosophize yet, they would be even more stubborn after that – So… lets go now to the rifle-range – he ordered quickly.

---

The area of the school of guardians was well known to Ejsha, she didn’t need to be led or instructed, but the rest of her group was for the first time there, so Thor and other guardians had to help the previous Zhado students. All had a lot of fun with that. Ejsha was also pleased to be reminded of her old times there, from which only two short swords remained. She was shooting calmly and precisely. Thor cast her furtive glances and as she prepared for her last shot he had an opportunity to come close.

She sensed him behind her, so she took great care to shoot properly, she aimed and fired, but the bullet didn’t hit the target, hitting instead a wild buter, who jumped hastily across the meadow.

– Bravo! – yelled the others laughing amused.

Ejsha flushed slightly with embarrassment, in the end it was not her fault, that this buter unexpectedly showed up.

– Kerdasera, this is your privilege! – one of the guardians said loudly – Tomorrow we’ll have a very healthy dinner thanks to that! –

Ejsha looked helplessly at Thor.

– We are going now for dinner, please join us later on - Thor answered her with satisfaction in his voice.

---

It is easy to say: Join us! First you have to load the buter on the platform and clean the place left by the dead animal, then you have to transport it to the canteen, unload the buter, negotiate the price and in the end clean the platform and return it to the garage. Ejsha, although being well experienced and trying to do her job fast, didn’t manage to arrive in time.

Asgardians were sitting already, there was no free place left for her close to the king, so she sat down helplessly at the end of the table. She looked at the others – Nothing has been served yet? – she asked surprised.

– We are waiting for someone to serve us – one of her colleagues explained to her. Ejsha stood up being not pleased with that and went to the kitchen… True, there was none of the waiters, as they hadn’t expected any guests that afternoon in the canteen; the cooks, who came for the second shift, hurriedly prepared something to eat for them.

– I will help you – Ejsha proposed – In the past I served in the palace –

The cooks agreed to that, especially when they recognized her as a previous guardian student.

Thor was surprised to see Ejsha pouring wine into his cup – Ej…eh… - he almost said aloud her name, which was forbidden in the case of unmarried women – You have reminded me of old times! Do they serve apples also? – he meant to joke about their first meeting when Ejsha was carrying a plate full with huge apples and stumbled in his presence.

Ejsha didn’t answer him, she only opened her mouth as if to speak…

- Apples! It would make a tasty dessert! – other Asgardians demanded the fruits for themselves aloud.

– Well, I will ask them, whether they still have some apples stored – Ejsha answered hurrying up to the kitchen.

She carried food for all of her guests, poured drinks and had no spare time to sit down and eat something by herself.

And she felt badly hurt: as none of her Asgardian colleagues had given any thought, that she would like to be with them, to talk and eat…

Unfortunately she didn’t realize, how much Thor was worrying about it. The Terians, although for some time they had lived on a stony planet, originated in Asgard; when they came back decimated, it appeared that they had formed a closed society with strong internal ties. They were generally simple and content in what they do and say (for Thor seeing their reach emotional side was a relatively new experience for him). So the fact, that the Terians were serving the Asgardians, was rather a matter of their choice and of their dislike for higher positions – each job they treated honorably and gave it fair value.

– Please, join us for dinner, it would be proper to reward you for your work – the cooks said to her.

– Thank you – Ejsha sat down at the table in the kitchen, so that she could see on the right side the entrance to the dining room.

Her guests were eating apples; Thor asked them, one by one about their lifetime-jobs, he didn’t criticize and didn’t give any advice either and the young were telling him more and more easily about themselves and laughed merrily to that.

---

- It is time to finish our dinner, you had better go back… home before the sunset – Thor looked discretely into the kitchen, Ejsha was still eating with the cooks, so he rose and went out to bid farewell to the young Asgardians by himself.

---

- If you’d like to, you could go to them, they were your guests too – one of the cooks said to Ejsha.

– No – Ejsha answered her firmly. But she didn’t finish her portion, she stood up abruptly instead and said – Please, excuse me – and went out of the kitchen by the side exit.

---

Thor hadn’t forgotten, he came back to the canteen searching around for the Terian girl, he went in to the kitchen – I am looking for the daughter of Kerdas, the Terian, who served us at the table –

– She went out some minutes ago, but we don’t know where to –

– Thank you – Thor said bowing to them.

– By the side exit… -

- Pardon? –

– She rushed out by this side exit, not through the canteen’s main door and… she was probably upset –

Thor lifted his eyebrows in wonder.

– I mean the guests must have said or done something that had upset her… probably… - one of the cooks tried to explain to the king Ejsha’s somewhat strange behavior.

---

Thor went out as instructed by the cook. He didn’t have to search long: the Terian girl was sitting on the bench in one of the vine-clad wooden greenhouses and was leaning, weeping against the pillar. She didn’t rise seeing the approaching king – This is the penalty I have to pay for the whole Asgard – Thor thought bitterly and stopped in front of her – I have to apologize for the Asgardians, who hadn’t thanked you… and for their ignorance, I hoped to the last moment that they would improve their behavior, that is why I didn’t interfere –

But Ejsha was also upset by him: - Sure – she snorted – The Terian, although she keeps the pace with Asgardians, or even knows and can do more, has her place for eating in the kitchen! And who cares, what she wants to do with her life, whether she dreams of something or has some plans for the future, who cares which job she will choose… -

Ejsha shook her head and looked down to the boards on the floor.

Thor sighed, he realized how big must had been her pain – Please forgive me – he said after a while – That I did not ask you for all that, when we talked about it. I… wasn’t aware, that there are still so significant discrepancies here -

The girl took a deep breath, and then it occurred to her, that the king of Asgard was standing in front of her while she was sitting – No… this is me, who should ask for forgiving – she said while standing up – I was wrong to interpret some… situations – she closed her eyes – You financed my whole studies in Zhado having for sure some purpose in that, you don’t have to ask me for my plans, they are… relatively less important – she finished sadly.

Thor went closer to her, he couldn’t refrain from touching her cheek so that she looked up at him – Purpose?! Kerdasera… - he said softly – You’re not my slave… you are free, really free… you can according to your will choose your future: the work and the place for living –

The Terian girl sighed at his words.

– And you can choose your partner – Thor hesitated for a while – For sure among the new graduates of Zhado there is someone, who… -

- No, there isn’t – Ejsha looked down to the ground.

– So among your friends from the primary school… -

- No, and also there is none among the guardians – Ejsha looked to the side somewhere into the vast green fields.

Thor lost his tongue for a while – But… there is someone, who has possessed your heart… – he whispered.

– Yes – Ejsha confirmed somewhat abruptly – But he thinks himself to be too old for me – she finished looking straight into his eyes.

Thor realizing the meaning of her words leaned with his right hand against the wooden pillar so strongly, that several leaves and twigs fell down on them. Ejsha laughed heartily, Thor also, and he started to pluck leaves out of her hair – Thor – he said in an official manner – My name is Thor… I lost myself in your violet eyes long ago –

---

They stood motionless, only looking at each other and the whole universe seemed to stop for a while, especially for them.

---

Thor was the first to regain his composure – Go home, Ejsha. I will visit you soon; first I have to inform the Tesseract –

---

- Father, mother! – Ejsha all smiles rushed into the living room – The king will come here within minutes, he joined us in the cotton mill, then invited us to the rifle-range and to the canteen at the school for guardians, and then… I love him! –

Kerdas and Inga at the same moment closed their eyes.

– This is the worst news, that we could be brought, apart the one of your death – Kerdas spoke first – Did he… touch you? –

– Yes, but… -

- My beautiful daughter – her mother came close to her – The life of a concubine will bereave you of your honor –

– No… you don’t understand… -

At this moment Thor knocked at the door. Inga raised her hand to open it.

Thor came in: tall and proud, with his long red cloak on his shoulders.

Kerdas lost his composure – You! Are you aware what you have done to my daughter?! – he said through clenched teeth taking firm position opposite to the king.

Thor looked at the three carefully – Eh… the Terians, there lies the problem… – he thought, then took a deep breath – I assure you, everything I did was meant to caress the one, that I love – he explained watching Ejsha – And we have given each other our names… I have come here today – he said kneeling down in front of Kerdas – To sue for your daughter’s hand… She’ll be my queen and the queen of Asgard –

Kerdas was so surprised that he opened his mouth to speak several times but could not find the proper words to say them aloud.

Ejsha smiled to Thor.

– So… do you agree? – Thor asked little embarrassed by the lack of answer.

Kerdas looked at Ejsha, then at his wife – Yes, we agree… -

Ejsha happy went to Thor, who getting up was kissing her already – Can I? – he asked her looking into her eyes – You know, what I ask for – he added caressing her.

– Yes – she answered smiling somewhat shyly.

Thor bowed with his head to Kerdas and Inga and soon he was gone taking Ejsha with him to the palace.

---

– They won’t wait for official celebrations – Kerdas said cuddling his wife.

– This shouldn’t surprise you, they have waited at least for three years for that –

– Yea, you’re right, as usual – he summarized kissing Inga hereafter.

---

Of course, they didn’t wait, thanks to that Kesti would be born.
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Miles_Warren
Eternal
Joined: 24 Feb 2013, 00:05

19 Dec 2015, 01:32 #8

Excellent entry ewkada.
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darktruth
Neo
Joined: 08 Dec 2011, 13:45

19 Dec 2015, 02:19 #9

Good work Ewkada!

I'm currently pushing to get my entry ready, hopefully tonight/tomorrow.

Two options right now. One is an original tale involving a new breed of entertainment while the other deals with a girl who learns her family tree may not be as simple as she thought.
"Don't Act Too Paranoid Or They'll Know You're Onto Them."

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Joined: 03 Oct 2013, 20:56

19 Dec 2015, 03:55 #10

Well, some dilemmas I've had for the last couple weeks seem to be done with. I've got a story I'd like to submit and I might try to put it on a Word file tomorrow and submit it.
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Joined: 27 Nov 2007, 17:07

19 Dec 2015, 10:20 #11

Well done, ewkada!
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ewkada
Inhuman
Joined: 21 Dec 2013, 01:44

20 Dec 2015, 21:50 #12

thank you for reading it,
I actually don't feel well writting such stories
this one was dedicated for my colleague (the one with cancer)
she seems ok now
but
at the time when she was ill, my stories were the only thing we were able to talk about
(and I called her every day, we talked for one hour or so...)
so this way I learned to enjoy such kind of emotionally sweet blablabla
:aww:
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ewkada
Inhuman
Joined: 21 Dec 2013, 01:44

20 Dec 2015, 21:53 #13

Big Thunder! @ Dec 18 2015, 09:55 PM wrote: Well, some dilemmas I've had for the last couple weeks seem to be done with. I've got a story I'd like to submit and I might try to put it on a Word file tomorrow and submit it.
what happened BT?
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Eternal Nightmare
Celestial
Joined: 21 Jun 2008, 01:11

22 Dec 2015, 16:58 #14

A Christmas Gift

Craig and tale belong to Eternal Nightmare


Craig Dragotti glanced at every cat in a warehouse. He smiled as he viewed the animal army. *Christmas will be here soon. What should I get for
my feline friends? Should I steal yarn for them? Perhaps some cat toys?* he thought.

Craig grinned at every possibility. ''Stay here, my pets. I have to go out for some time. I should return in a little while.''
Still grinning, he ran out the door. He found himself in Ontario before he saw many shops.

A pet store caused Craig's eyes to widen. His grin returned. *I can steal cat toys here.* Craig gasped after he heard a growl from behind.
He looked back. A stray dog snarled.

Craig yowled and ran. *I won't live to see another Christmas if that dog catches me* he thought. He ran into the warehouse before he glanced
back again. His eyes became wide another time after he saw the dog.

The cat army approached the dog. They hissed at it. One cat scratched the dog's nose. It watched as the other animal ran.

After grinning again, Craig held three cats. He heard them while they purred. ''I'm your holiday present?'' he asked. Craig purred with
every single cat.



The End
[img]http://i233.photobucket.com/albums/ee109/kacangpool/vida/2010-tavern-awards-stanlee.jpg[/img]

[img]http://spiralgoddess.webs.com/IMG_20171107_103942.jpg[/img]

[img]http://www.freewebs.com/eternalalanna/Screenshot%202017-12-03%20at%203.35.02%20PM.png[/img]

[IMG]http://eternalashlotte.webs.com/Screenshot%202017-12-18%20at%2011.49.20%20AM.png[/IMG]
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darktruth
Neo
Joined: 08 Dec 2011, 13:45

23 Dec 2015, 07:45 #15

Dungeon Crawl-

Issue 1- Youngbloods (Part 1)

"Oh, and that is a beautiful shot by Silverback! That troll doesn't know what hit it."

A large built man with limbs like tree trunks smirks beneath a mop of dirty blonde hair. He spins his massive metal club, only a foot shorter and almost as thick as he is, around in his right hand and plants it upon the ground beside him.
He leans on it casually as he watches the troll stagger about in the tunnel before him. The average troll is ten feet tall and made of three things, muscles, aggression, and stupidity. This troll can claim a fourth, a thick skull.
It shakes it's large head and it's leathery skin flops back and forth, then it turns and glares at Silverback with small, black eyes.

Silverback looks like he may be in a spot of trouble here, that troll does not look... Is that Aither?!

Silverback brings his club up in front of him to brace for impact as the troll charges, when he spots a shadow move. He cocks an eyebrow, then ducks aside as the toll lumbers past.
His eyes turn from the brute as a pale man in a suit of leather plates stops beside him, his red-hair in a short crop.

"This one seems a little tough," remarks the man, Aither.
"Nothing a few good whacks can't deal with," replies Silverback with a grunt.
Aither smirks. "Give me a lift and you'll do it in one."
Silverback gives Aither a scrutinizing look, then rests the head of his club on an angle behind him before Aither steps atop it.

"I-I think we're about to see some exciting team-combo action! This is exactly why people tune in week after week after week!"

Aither gives Silverback a nod as the troll turns. The large man takes a breath, then presses a switch upon his club as he begins to swing it upwards.
A blast of energy erupts from the head of the club and accelerates the swing. At the apex of the swing Aither tucks his legs in and then springs himself towards the behemoth creature.

As he soars through the air a line of blades extend outwards along his arms and legs.
He twists in the air as he nears the brute, his leg-blades slice along the troll's face and shoulders as he passes over, then he digs his arm-blades deep into the flesh of its shoulders.

He wrenches back on the troll and it charges forward as its head aims at the dungeon roof with a roar of pain. "One shot!" Aither shouts.
"Only need one," Silverback mutters as he cracks his spine and lifts his club.

Silverback watches the beast's charging steps, and once it steps upon the right mark he swings.
Metal club collides with the thick neck with a sickening crunch. The troll lets out a loud, frantic gasping as its legs give out and it slams forward onto the floor.

"That was incredible! Can you believe what we have just witnessed?! I think Silverback and Aither deserve bonus points for that little display!"
---------------------------------------------------------------------------

CrawlerCon East
New York City
December 15, 2015

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k_ZMmEFA4Q0

The crowd erupts into a screaming applause as the video upon the screen fades and the music builds. The applause hits a second, higher peak as Silverback takes the stage.
The large man, dressed in a black suit for the occasion, looks older now with more lines upon his face and several streaks of silver in his dirty blonde hair.
He holds a fist up into the air as he shouts "thank you New York!" to the crowd.

When the cheering finally fades Silverback replaces it with his own clapping. "This is for all of you! Because without you none of this would be possible, and Dungeon Crawl would be just another failed dream. Instead it is now the most watched entertainment in the world! And for that we, all of the people involved in Dungeon Crawl, thank you!"
Silverback receives another round of applause.
"Some of you might remember the fight you just saw. I'd been in the game only a month by that point, and I can tell you I was nervous every moment of it. That fight was my first tangle with a troll, and the first time I beat one. But more than that, it was the beginning of a friendship that has endured the years. Without Aither I'm not sure I would have lasted my first season."

He begins to walk back and forth along the stage. "That's why I was so excited to be given this opportunity to host CrawlerCon East, to be able to talk to you about something we don't discuss often. People tune in for the action, excitement, and drama, but none of that would be as good as it is without the comradery the Dungeon Crawlers build both on and off the screen. We're more than just competitors, we're family. Even when we're competing against each other a win for one of us is a win for all of us. That's what makes Dungeon Crawl so special for me, so unique compared to any sport to have ever come before it."
The screen begins to show a montage of battle scenes, men and women fighting alongside each other against all manner of monsters from undead ghouls to towering giants. Silverback takes a moment to watch the images.
"These have been the greatest years of my life, and it's always been a huge honour to guide others into this exciting and wonderful life." He looks back to the audience. "It's December fifteenth, Christmas is almost here. But better than that, a new season of the Youngblood series is just around the corner! We're very excited to introduce you to this seasons Youngbloods, right here at CrawlerCon East! You can meet our new hopefuls in the Youngbloods Arena throughout the weekend. We may even have a new Dungeon Champion amongst them! So I've talked enough, now get out there and...." the audience choruses his next few words "Let the Crawl Commence!"
-------------------------------------------------------------

The Youngbloods Arena

The Youngbloods, new initiates into Dungeon Crawl with hopes of making their way into the major league, are seated along a long table for their 'Meet and Greet' session. So far it had been less 'Meet and Greet' and more 'Avoid and Ignore'.
Each Youngblood had a plaque with their Dungeon Crawl name upon it before them, ladies on the left and men on the right. From left-to-right they were Eira, Lynx, Hydra, Eagle, Montaine, and Oxman. In the middle sat Solara, it was a tradition that one of the last batch of Youngbloods acts as a mentor for the new and so Solara was chosen.

"I think they hate us," mutters a short, bald-headed man, Eagle, as he leans back in his seat with his feet upon the table before him as he watches the crowd of people move about in every direction except towards them.
"They don't hate us," replies Solara, a petite woman with her blonde hair tied into a plait. "They don't even know us."
"If they did they'd hate us," says a woman with short white hair as she looks up from her book. This was Eira.

"They would not," Solara assured her. "I can tell you it's like this every year. Everybody ignores the Youngbloods, they only want to see the veterans. Until they see them in action of course. I guarantee you after the exhibition Crawl this evening you'll be swamped tomorrow. Same thing happened to my group, Sanguine was particularly popular after he took down that Minotaur."
"Minotaurs aren't difficult," Eira comments as she continues to read. "They're top heavy, put them off balance and you'd have to be a fool not to beat one."
A very tall brown-haired man scoffs. "Like you'd know. You here to fight or keep your nose stuffed in that book?"
"Montaine, don't," Solara warns him.

Eira looks to him with a white eyebrow arched up her forehead as she snaps her book shut. "And if you come up against Noppera-bo? What do you intend to do?"
"Shoot it in the face," he laughs. "Of course."
She rolls her eyes. "You do know that the defining trait of the Noppera-bo is that they have no face, right?"

His eyes narrow upon her. "You think you're better than me don't you?"
"I do," she replies without hesitation and Montaine rises from his seat.
"Why don't you prove it?" he demands. "Tonight, during the exhibition. You and me."
Eira gives a soft laugh. "If you want to look like a fool I'll happily oblige."

"O-okay you two, back of there," Solara says as she holds a hand out to each of them.
"This is going to be fun with those two," Lynx, a short blonde-haired woman, whispers to Hydra beside her.
The tanned woman with her black hair tied into a bun replies with a nod before she whispers back, "personally I hope Montaine puts that arrogant bitch in her place."
Eira's eyes move to Hydra for a moment, then she re-opens her book and returns to reading.

Oxman, a large built and dark-skinned man watches the others in silence.
His eyes move to Eira and watch her curiously as she reads, then as he catches her amber eyes look in his direction he quickly places his attention back on the crowd that ignores them.
The corner of Eira's mouth curls up into a smirk.

"So... How much longer do we have to sit here and be ignored?"
"There's somebody right there," Solara smiles proudly as she points to a young boy that approaches them. She rises from her seat. "Hey! Welcome to the Youngbloods Arena, if you'd like autographs from the entire Youngbloods line-up it'll only be..."
"No," the boy cuts her off. "I just want to know where Lady Nightingale's panel is."
"Not here," Solara replies sharply as she crosses her arms over her chest and drops into her seat.
"So how long?" Eagle asks and she shoots him a fierce glare.
----------------------------------------------------------------------

That Evening
Youngbloods Arena Control Center

"So, how are we looking?" Silverback inquires as he enters the room and makes his way through the rows of people at computer consoles.
"We're right on track," Solra replied eagerly as she turned from a a large screen that filled a wall. The screen contained several camera shots, a detailed map, and active information on each of the Youngbloods, from heart-rates through to body temperature. "Once our Youngbloods are in position we'll begin activating each sector and then..."
"I wasn't talking about the show," he cuts her off. "And you know that Sol. How are our Youngbloods?"

Solara shares a glance with an overweight, bearded man at the computer beside her before she breaks the silence and answers. "There've been some... dramas."
He cocks an inquisitive eyebrow at her.
"There was an incident with Montaine and Eira during the Meet and Greet earlier," she elaborates. "Thankfully there was no public to witness it, but I think they may intend to 'deal' with it during the show tonight."
"What was the drama about?"
"Montaine thinks Eira feels she's better than him, and she shares his thoughts," she replies. "Not that it's the first incident."

"The others don't really like Eira do they?" he asks.
"Well, she is kind of a bitch," Solara replies. Silverback gives her a look. "Well she is."
"Perhaps we can use this," he says as he looks over the master screen. "We ready?"
"Youngbloods are in position and the system is primed," replies the bearded man.
"Then fire it up."
--------------------------------------------------------------

Inside the Exhibition Dungeon

Eagle watches a camera drone as it flits about the entrance chamber as the others check their weapons or do warm-ups.
Each are now dressed in their battle gear, and each has their own personal touches to both their clothes and weapon.

Eagle is dressed in a black leather jacket and pants, with a padded purple shirt underneath and purple detailing on the jacket. From his hip hangs his choice weapon, a pair of bladed nunchucks with space for his hand to use them as knuckle-dusters.
Lynx is dressed in a battle-skirt and vest of orange, with a light brown jacket over the top and knee-high boots. Her weapons are a pair of kamas, small scythes, that also act as pistols.
Oxman wears a simple leather jerkin and pants, embellished with silver. Upon his back is a large quiver of arrows, and in his hand a compound bow with a long blade on each end.
Hydra in a suit akin to a wet-suit, coloured deep royal blue and vibrant gold. A golden cape hangs from her shoulders. Her weapon is axe that doubles as a rifle.
Montaine wears a long bronze-coloured jacket embellished with green edging, beneath it a black shirt and pants lined with pockets. His bastard sword is strapped to his back. A sword that also happens to be a rocket launcher.
Eira stands toward the back in her white dress suit jacket and pants, with a bronze edging. Her spear rested beside her, her most prized possession in all the world.

"Ladies and Gentlemen! I welcome you all to this very special Exhibition Dungeon Crawl! Tonight is the first time you will see out most recent group of Youngbloods in action, and let me assure you that this is going to be one hell of a ride. We have quite the mix of Youngbloods this year, and so accordingly we have found ourselves an equally diverse set of monstrosities for tonight's event. But which of our heroes shall ultimately prove themselves the best Dungeon Crawler? Let's find out. Let the Crawl Commence!"

Eagle couldn't help himself but join the commentator in his shout. None of the others noticed, but Eira whispered along as well.
The large set of doors before them began to slide open, and those who hadn't already took hold of their weapons.
Eira took a deep breath as she took a hold of her spear, then gasped as a large tentacle shot in through the door and knocked them all from their feet.

To be Continued
"Don't Act Too Paranoid Or They'll Know You're Onto Them."

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Miles_Warren
Eternal
Joined: 24 Feb 2013, 00:05

29 Dec 2015, 01:41 #16

Well it seems we only received three entries this month for the competition (again!). Since this isn't really much of a competition I have decided to cancel this month's voting process and extend the competition into January in the hope that we receive more entries.

The new closing date to receive entries is January 27th 4PM EST. After that the competition will close and voting will begin.
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Joined: 03 Oct 2013, 20:56

29 Dec 2015, 13:47 #17

Miles_Warren @ Dec 28 2015, 09:41 PM wrote: Well it seems we only received three entries this month for the competition (again!). Since this isn't really much of a competition I have decided to cancel this month's voting process and extend the competition into January in the hope that we receive more entries.

The new closing date to receive entries is January 27th 4PM EST. After that the competition will close and voting will begin.
Makes sense. Busy holidays for me.
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ewkada
Inhuman
Joined: 21 Dec 2013, 01:44

29 Dec 2015, 18:52 #18

@ Miles: you made good decision
@ Eternal: your story is too short for me, because I like reading, I admit however that you're perfectly precise with words, it would be great if our politicians had the same attitude while working on our law
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Eternal Nightmare
Celestial
Joined: 21 Jun 2008, 01:11

29 Dec 2015, 20:52 #19

I usually don't like to write long stories. I rarely write multiple chapter stories.
[img]http://i233.photobucket.com/albums/ee109/kacangpool/vida/2010-tavern-awards-stanlee.jpg[/img]

[img]http://spiralgoddess.webs.com/IMG_20171107_103942.jpg[/img]

[img]http://www.freewebs.com/eternalalanna/Screenshot%202017-12-03%20at%203.35.02%20PM.png[/img]

[IMG]http://eternalashlotte.webs.com/Screenshot%202017-12-18%20at%2011.49.20%20AM.png[/IMG]
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MsMarvelDuckie
Inhuman
Joined: 28 Nov 2007, 20:55

29 Dec 2015, 22:28 #20

Sounds like a good idea. I had planned on posting an entry, but between the holidays and some really crazy hours at work, I've had little time to write. This works out great!
"Well, this is another fine myth you've gotten us into..."
-from "Myth Directions"

"Where Science ends, magic begins." -Spiral, Uncanny X-Men #491
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Eternal Nightmare
Celestial
Joined: 21 Jun 2008, 01:11

30 Dec 2015, 14:17 #21

OF COURSE my story for the contest is criticized. It's also ignored for the most part.

Most long stories I read were boring, poorly written, contained awful original characters, etc.

I'm sick of the ''short stories are bad by default'' mental state.

I almost never see bad stories criticized. Atrocious stories are often recognized and praised, but good stories are ignored or hated.

I just can't have nice things!

My coherent stories contain good spelling with grammar and characterization, but people still tear me apart. People never passing grade school English are treated like God.

My stories are buried in notebooks due to never being good enough, but barely literate authors are published right away. The books could be self published. That explains everything.

Most people hate canon characters being in character, unique ideas, good spelling with grammar, etc. I'm used to it. They even hate unique original characters. People always find something to yell about, but they always compliment others never passing grade school English.

I wish good stories weren't hated and ignored. I'll admit my descriptions are a bit weak, but less is sometimes more. I do try, but it's never good enough.

Other stories get away with so much more that nobody mocks or criticizes.

I'm singled out unfairly for ''bad'' writing, ''OOC'' behavior, etc. when other stories are guilty of those things in fandoms. Those stories are rarely told off.

My stories are ripped apart at Essential Webcomics.com and I never won the writing competition here. More proof that people hate my stories.

People saying how English is my second language have NO RIGHT to criticize me when they can't tell periods and commas apart. They never criticize poorly written stories at all.

Maybe good stories will actually be appreciated instead of mocked and ignored after I'm gone.

This is why I can't have nice things.
[img]http://i233.photobucket.com/albums/ee109/kacangpool/vida/2010-tavern-awards-stanlee.jpg[/img]

[img]http://spiralgoddess.webs.com/IMG_20171107_103942.jpg[/img]

[img]http://www.freewebs.com/eternalalanna/Screenshot%202017-12-03%20at%203.35.02%20PM.png[/img]

[IMG]http://eternalashlotte.webs.com/Screenshot%202017-12-18%20at%2011.49.20%20AM.png[/IMG]
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ewkada
Inhuman
Joined: 21 Dec 2013, 01:44

30 Dec 2015, 18:27 #22

Eternal Nightmare @ Dec 30 2015, 08:17 AM wrote: OF COURSE my story for the contest is criticized. It's also ignored for the most part.

Most long stories I read were boring, poorly written, contained awful original characters, etc.

I'm sick of the ''short stories are bad by default'' mental state.

I almost never see bad stories criticized. Atrocious stories are often recognized and praised, but good stories are ignored or hated.

I just can't have nice things!

My coherent stories contain good spelling with grammar and characterization, but people still tear me apart. People never passing grade school English are treated like God.

My stories are buried in notebooks due to never being good enough, but barely literate authors are published right away. The books could be self published. That explains everything.

Most people hate canon characters being in character, unique ideas, good spelling with grammar, etc. I'm used to it. They even hate unique original characters. People always find something to yell about, but they always compliment others never passing grade school English.

I wish good stories weren't hated and ignored. I'll admit my descriptions are a bit weak, but less is sometimes more. I do try, but it's never good enough.

Other stories get away with so much more that nobody mocks or criticizes.

I'm singled out unfairly for ''bad'' writing, ''OOC'' behavior, etc. when other stories are guilty of those things in fandoms. Those stories are rarely told off.

My stories are ripped apart at Essential Webcomics.com and I never won the writing competition here. More proof that people hate my stories.

People saying how English is my second language have NO RIGHT to criticize me when they can't tell periods and commas apart. They never criticize poorly written stories at all.

Maybe good stories will actually be appreciated instead of mocked and ignored after I'm gone.

This is why I can't have nice things.
Hey Eternal ! Your stories hated ? Never heard of it !

I like your stories (I voted for your story last month)
and what I wrote about your entry this month is just my opinion,
and only mine, so please don't expand it over other people
don't hurt yourself this way, please
:friends:

would it be enough if I said: I'm really sorry, I didn't want to hurt you
or would you like me to do something more for you?
:oops:
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Miles_Warren
Eternal
Joined: 24 Feb 2013, 00:05

15 Jan 2016, 20:44 #23

So far this month there have been no new stories. I am little concerned about the future viability of the writing comp.
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MsMarvelDuckie
Inhuman
Joined: 28 Nov 2007, 20:55

21 Jan 2016, 00:53 #24

Well, it took me a while to get it all out, but I finally have my entry! Let's hope more are forth-coming, as I'd hate to end up with the same issue as the last comp.




******************************************************





Chapter 2: Donatello's Bad Day


Donatello opened his eyes as the wave of dizziness subsided, leaving him staggering on his feet. Feet? He'd been in his bed asleep until SOMETHING had awakened him just moments earlier. He looked down, frowning at a fully clothed body that was utterly unfamiliar. Pink-skinned, five-fingered hands that weren't his own, white body suit that looked like something from a laboratory clean room- what was going on here?! To top it off, the room he was in was white and mostly empty. No windows, no smells, nothing. Just a chair and small table, a bench-like extension on one wall that might have served as a bunk, a mirror on the wall near the bunk, and that was it. Like a prison cell, or perhaps a quarantine room. And he was alone. Donnie didn't know which worried him more, that his brothers were missing- or was HE the one missing?- or the emptiness of the place, or the fact that he had no memory of how he'd arrived there.

A glass of water was on the table, the only other object in the room. He ignored it for the moment, and wobbled over to the mirror. The reflection that stared back was human. HUMAN?! Donatello rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was dreaming, or just seeing things. Nope, still there. He reached out to touch the mirror, as if to reassure himself that it was real. "Son of a snapper! What happened?!" That was the question, though, wasn't it? He was staring back at the face of a man in his mid-forties, perhaps, square-jawed, with short but unruly light brown hair, a hint of five-o-clock shadow, and intelligent eyes. He stuck out his tongue, just to be sure, and shook his head when he realized the absurdity of the action. Somehow, he'd been transported into the body of some human. But how? And WHY?

"Get it together, Donatello," he muttered, scratching his head. "There's got to be an explanation for this- maybe." He tried to remember the last thing he'd done, but that was no help. His last memory was of falling into his own bed, exhausted from yet another day spent in a fruitless attempt to repair the Time Scepter. Not that he really had reason to use it, but there was always that chance.... Besides, if what Mitsu had told them of the legend was true, there might YET be some need for it.

The door opened while he was lost in thought staring blankly at his reflection, and he whirled instantly to face whatever threat might be approaching. He was surprised to se a man who looked about late fifties, in a suit that to his mind was rather tacky, holding a cigar in one hand, and some sort of device in the other. He was talking to someone, though Donnie couldn't see whom.

"No, Gushie, I DON'T know who Sam leaped into this time, we still can't find him! Have Ziggy keep looking!" The man pushed a button on the object in his hand, and sighed, shaking his head as he turned to regard Donnie. "Sorry about that, friend, but we're having some technical difficulties. You're probably wondering where you are, and why you're not- you." The man took a puff on the cigar, and Donnie just nodded silently, wrinkling his nose at the smell, confused as to why the man appeared to know exactly what he was thinking.

"The thought HAD crossed my mind, yes," Donnie said finally, as he moved toward the chair. "Mind telling me what's going on? What is this place, who are you, and why do I look like- this?" He waved his hand down at his body, before sitting down cautiously. The man didn't seem threatening, just slightly annoying, but that didn't mean he was going to trust him.

"My name is Al, and that's really all you need to know about me right now. I'm sorry, but we can't risk you knowing too much, or it could REALLY screw up the timeline later. All you need to know is that you're in what we call our 'waiting room', in the physical shape of my friend Dr. Beckett. I guess you could say that you've just become part of an experiment in time-travel that sort of went screwy. Trust me, we didn't exactly plan this, but while you're HERE, Sam is- stuck somewhere in the past looking like YOU, so it's no picnic for us, either. Every time he leaps, we have to track him down again, and HOPE that whatever he's supposed to fix in the past will allow him to leap back here again. It's complicated." The man was long-winded, that was certain. Donnie frowned as he took it all in, until the man got to the part about his "friend" being in Donnie's place.

"Son of a snapper! Are you saying that I've switched physical appearances with a human being?! Oh, no- no, this is NOT good...." He jumped up and began to pace, fear tightening his gut as he shook his head and bit his lip. "What will happen when he sees my brothers? We're turtles! No one is even supposed to know we EXIST! This is bad, very BAD...."

Al gave him an odd look; it suddenly occurred to him that he had no idea who was actually taking Sam's place at the moment. He hoped it wasn't another nutcase like Oswald, or the serial killer he'd had to drag back after the lunatic had escaped. "I almost forgot to ask, what's your name? It might help us figure out where Sam is in the past." Al asked him after a moment, getting back to business. Whoever this guy was, he was more nervous than most subjects he'd had to deal with. Then again, he couldn't even be sure it was even a HE. Could be a woman, for all he knew- there was no way to tell, when he looked and sounded just like Sam. The way he was talking was certainly odd, though. Switched with a human being? Why had he phrased it like that?

Donnie paused in his pacing. "Well, I'm, uh, that is...." There was no easy way to say it. "I'm a mutant turtle. My name is Donatello. I know this must sound crazy to you, but it's true! I'm from New York City, and I live with my three brothers and our sensei underground in an old subway line that was shut down. We're, uh- we're ninjas. Mutant turtle ninjas. That- I guess it sounds kind of ridiculous, doesn't it?"

Al stared at him, his expression skeptical. After a moment, he decided to humor the guy for now, in order to get more information out of him. "Okay, uh- Donatello, was it?- What year was it before you found yourself here? That could help us find Sam. And how did you become- whatever it is you say you are?"

"It happened a long time ago. We used to be ordinary baby pet shop turtles, until some kid accidentally dropped our bowl and we fell down into the sewers, right after he bought us. We were raised by our sensei, a mutant rat named Splinter. He was changed by the same mutagenic goop that turned us into- well, you'll see what I mean when you find your friend. Splinter named us after Renaissance artists from a book he found. And he trained us as ninjas because he used to be the pet of a ninja Master before his owner was murdered by a rival. It's complicated." Donnie shrugged, shooting the man's own words back at him.

"Uh-huh. Exactly WHEN are you from?" Al was beginning to think the guy was a complete loon. He really seemed to believe this mutant nonsense. Ninjas? Talking mutant rats and turtles? It sounded like something out of a cheesy sci-fi movie or comic book.

"The year was 1993. August sixteenth. And this isn't the first time we've dealt with time-travel accidents. We had one just a few months ago after our friend April bought an old Japanese artifact at a flea market that turned out to be some kind of time-travel device. It activated, and she got sent back to Japan in 1602. We had to use the Time Scepter to go back and get her, and we almost got stuck there. Is- is that what happened? The Scepter only switches two people in time, though, not appearance. I mean, we ended up wearing the armor of some samurai warriors, but we still looked like ourselves. If what you say is true, this sounds similar to what happened with the Scepter. I just hope your friend doesn't have a heart attack when he sees my family, or we might never get back to our proper places!"

Al listened, and decided that he might as well humor the guy, as long as he was trying so hard to sell this mutant story. "Ah, okay.... Tell me more about your family. Maybe it will help us find Sam and get you back to where you belong." This should be good, he thought.

"Well, there's not much to tell, really. It's the just four of us, and Master Splinter. We've been living in the sewers for a little over sixteen years now, hiding from people who might want to lock us away or hurt us. I'm the resident genius of the family; I was the one who figured out how that Scepter worked- it was equal mass displacement. For every person that went BACK in time, someone from that time ended up here. I'm still working on the actual time-travel part, though. Whoever made that thing was WAAY ahead of his time! It's at least eight hundred years old, according to a legend told to us by someone from the time-period we went to. Hey- can I see the device you used? Maybe I can help figure out what went wrong and fix it!" Donatello grew excited at the thought of examining a new piece of technology. He was aware that the man before him probably didn't believe his story, but it couldn't be helped. April hadn't really believed it at first either, and she had SEEN them. He still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that he now looked like an ordinary human; that was something he had never even imagined being possible. Still, maybe it was a good chance for him to try some things he'd never done before.

"Ah, that's probably not a good idea. We can't take the risk of you knowing too much about the future. It could screw up the timeline. The whole point of the experiment was that Sam was supposed to be an observer, seeing through the eyes of someone from the past, and nothing more. But somehow, his brainwaves got switched with theirs, and he ended up BEING that person- except he lost his memory the first time, and didn't even know who he was! And without knowing who he got switched with, we had no way to bring him back. But when we found him and tried to reverse it, he just jumped into another body in another time instead of coming back- and it's been pretty much the same thing every time we've tried. You're just a victim of the latest attempt. We have a theory that there's been some interference by a, uh- higher power. Because every time Sam leaps, he has to fix something wrong in that time before he can leave. And it's almost always something that positively affects the lives of the people he leaps into, or someone around them." Al was getting impatient. This was a waste of time, he was sure. He didn't even know how much of this he should even be telling this guy, not that it made any difference. What could the nut do about it, anyway?

Donnie took in the man's explanation, and tapped one finger against his chin thoughtfully. "So, what you're saying is that it works on brain-wave transference? Interesting theory. And his mind just keeps bouncing around in time, going from person to person, and you can't retrieve it? And the mind of whomever he bounces into gets pulled here. Got it." He scowled, a new thought occurring to him. "But that means that he has no idea what he's getting into each time, which could be very traumatic if he leaps into a bad situation blind." He sighed, realizing that his pickle was dire indeed, "Which is exactly what has happened here. Great. I REALLY hope your friend isn't prone to heart attacks! Most of the humans we've met have freaked out when they saw us!" Donnie wondered what was happening back home right now. How would the guy who had taken his place react to them? And would they realize they had an imposter in their midst?

Al took another puff from his cigar, but said nothing. He turned, and began to press buttons on the data-link in his hand. The response made him scowl darkly. He whirled back to his guest, eying him suspiciously. "Ziggy says there's no data on you. We can't find any record of a Donatello from New York in 1993. Nothing on any mutants, either. So who are you, REALLY?!"

Donatello sighed. It was expected, after all. "Of course there isn't! Only five people even know we exist! And they all agreed to keep our secret. I mean, if you were a giant talking mutant reptile, would YOU want the whole world knowing where you live?! We'd have every scientist and big-game hunter in the world after us! It's bad enough that one of our only friends is a reporter! But at least she knows how to keep a secret." An idea came to him, and he snapped his fingers, his expression lighting up. "That's it! Tell this Ziggy or whoever to look up April O'Neil. She works for Channel Three news. And one Casey Jones- he's a mechanic and handyman. That should at least prove when I'm from, even if you don't believe me about the turtle part."

Al gave the stranger a skeptical look, and turned back to the door. "We're going to run that through our databanks, and for your sake, you'd better hope we come up with something. Meanwhile, I'll be keeping my eye on you. Until we find Sam, you're stuck here, so don't get any funny ideas. Capishe?" He didn't even wait for Donatello's reply, but opened the door and went through. Donnie watched him leave, feeling suddenly very alone. He sighed, sitting back down in the chair to wait. He looked around, but there was nothing in the room to occupy him. This was not turning out to be a good day....



Al stepped outside of the room, and was immediately assailed by their technician Gushie's bad breath. "So, did he give you anything useful? What's all this about mutant turtles?"

"I'm not sure yet, but the guy's a nutcase. I think he really believes all that crap. But he did give us a place to start looking. See what Ziggy can dig up on a reporter named April O'Neil, or some guy named Casey Jones. Maybe they can shed some light on this. If that Donatello wasn't just feeding me a load of bull. I'm going to go meet Tina for breakfast, so keep me posted." He headed down the hallway of the Project: Quantum Leap facility toward the entrance, before he belatedly remembered something. "Oh, and send something in for our guest- he's probably hungry."

"Yes, sir!" Gushie said, saluting him as he walked away. Al groaned softly, and finished off his cigar. He really hoped they could find Sam soon. He had a feeling Dr. Beckett was in worse trouble than ever this time.



Donatello heard the door open after a short interval, and another man walked in, this one shorter, wearing a lab coat. He carried a tray of food, which Donnie took to mean that they had at least enough courtesy to feed him. Then again, he was borrowing the body of their colleague, so he supposed it was more self interest than concern for his welfare. He waited for the man to set down the tray, looking it over warily. He didn't think they would try to drug or poison him, but one never knew....

"Here's your breakfast, Mr. Donatello," the man said cheerfully, though he gave Donnie an odd look. He must not have believed his story, either, Donnie surmised. "You'll be pleased to hear that we did find the O'Neil woman, and that Jones fellow, too. So at least we've narrowed down the WHEN of where Dr. Beckett is. But as to your own identity, we still can't find any data! Why don't you just tell us the truth? This ridiculous tale of yours isn't going to help you get back to your own time any faster- or is that what you want? Are you hiding from someone? Perhaps you're a fugitive?"

Don sighed again. "No sir, it really IS the truth! Look, the reason you can't find anything on us is because legally speaking, we never existed. There are no records of me or my family, and we have done our best to keep it that way. Can you imagine what would happen to us if humans were aware of us? I don't want to spend my life being poked, prodded, and studied like some lab specimen, thank you! Or worse. The art of invisibility is what we live by- and for good reason!" He frowned. Technically speaking, they hadn't always done a good job of that. Like that incident in the dance club. That had been a huge mistake, exposing themselves so publicly. Thankfully, the humans had thought it was all an act, with costumed performers and special effects, and nothing more. The only evidence to the contrary was the damage to the pier and construction site, and Professor Perry's immediate disappearance afterward.

That gave Donnie an idea. "If you really need more data, check for records of a company called TGRI. They created the ooze that caused our mutation. One of the canisters fell off the truck on the way to disposal about sixteen years ago- my time, not yours- and it fell into the sewer and broke. We landed in it not long after, and there you have it. And when they unburied them last year- our time again- we got involved because one of the canisters was stolen, and someone used it to create more mutants like us- specifically, a giant wolf and snapping turtle. They caused some major damage to a residential street, and then there was an incident the next night at a construction site and a dance club down by the docks. There was a story in the papers about it. We- kind of messed up and let ourselves be seen in the club. But everyone thought we were just performers in costumes." He shrugged, giving the man a wry smile. "I'm sorry, but that's all there is. Unless you want to go back into the Channel Three files and dig up some news reports on a rash of thefts by a group called the Foot Clan. They were the ones who stole that last canister of from TGRI, and they were responsible for the crime wave earlier that year. Most of them ended up in jail, thanks to us."

Gushie frowned, but nodded sagely. "I see. Fascinating. I assure you, we will verify this, so if you're hiding or fabricating anything, we will find out. Well, no matter. Admiral Calavicci ordered me to bring you breakfast, even though it's a bit early for it yet. Eat up! Mustn't let Sam jump back to a malnourished body, eh?" He laughed, and Donnie wrinkled his nose at the man's halitosis. He grimaced at the thought that they clearly had more concern for the other guy than for him.

"Yeah, thanks. What time is it, anyway?" He hadn't even thought to ask earlier, and there was nothing in the room to indicate time at all.

"It's about 4:45 in the morning. Which reminds me, I am in desperate need of some coffee!" The man spun on his heels and scuttled off, and was out the door before Donnie could utter another word. Donatello groaned, before pulling the tray in front of him to eat. They had given him a plate of scrambled eggs, toast, and sausage links, and a small box of apple juice. He shook his head in frustration. They could have at least brought some coffee....



He had long since finished his bland breakfast, and was sitting in the chair staring up at the ceiling counting tiles out of boredom when the man named Al came in an hour later by his estimate, looking at him like he'd grown another head. He must have finished his cigar at some point, because this time he had a tumbler of what looked like whiskey or scotch on ice in its place. Donnie frowned, thinking that it was far too early in the day to be drinking something that potent. Al's hands were shaking slightly, and he held a bottle in his other hand that he recognized as a well-known brand of bourbon.

"Little early for that, don't you think?" Donnie asked.

"After what I just saw, not a chance. At first, I thought you were trying to pull one over on us, like some kind of prank in poor taste. Or that you were some nutcase in a mental hospital somewhere. But I just met four giant talking turtles and a rat bigger than a Rottweiller! And they SAW me!' Al was still trying to grasp what had just happened back in the past. Not only had Sam been stuck looking like some kind of creature from a monster movie, but then the others had seen and heard him!

"Well, I should hope so. They"re not blind." Donnie said, rolling his eyes at the man's mild hysterics. Then again, he supposed it was only natural to have such a response to the reality of what he and his brothers were. He just wished he could have been there to see their reactions to Al. Of course, if he HAD been there, none of this would be happening.

"No, you don't understand. I can appear to Sam in the past as a holographic projection, but usually, he's the only one who can see or hear me, because the accelerator is attuned to his brainwave signature. To anyone else, I'm invisible and inaudible- I'm not really there, so physical objects pass right through my image. Except that they saw me. That's not supposed to happen!"

Donatello thought that over. "And that's bad, I assume? Since it was supposed to be strictly an observation of the past, without interacting with it. What happened? What did they do?" He desperately wished he wasn�t stuck here in this empty room with no way to know what was happening back home. "Is there some way to tell them I'm okay? At the very least, could you bring something in here for me to read or something? Heck, I'd even settle for a crossword book! I'm going out of my mind in here with nothing to do!"

"I could maybe give them a message for you. In fact, they want me to prove you're still in one piece, so that's a good idea. And why didn't you tell me those guys were so jumpy? If I hadn't been a hologram, that Leonardo guy would have taken my head off!" Al waved his arms dramatically, still a little unnerved by the way those strange turtle-men had reacted to him. He poured another shot into his glass and downed it.

"At least it wasn't Raph. Be careful around him; he's kind of temperamental. Umm, anyway, just tell them that I'm safe, but I am bored to tears without anything to tinker on. Better yet, tell them I forgot to set the VCR to record that movie Mikey wanted to watch. That way they'll know it's me. You really should slow down with that stuff. It'll rot your liver." Don was starting to get used to the man's habits, but that didn't make this any easier. He figured this Al was the type to chase women and abuse his organs with God only knew what kind of carcinogens. He also had cheap taste in suits.

"NOW he tells me," Al muttered to himself, making an exasperated face. "What are you, my doctor? I get enough of that from him, I don't need health advice from a talking turtle! And thanks for warning me about that one- but you're a little late. Is your whole family nuts, or what?"

Donnie shook his head, rolling his eyes at the man�s reaction. "No, but Raph has anger management problems. The rest of us are usually pretty mellow- unless somebody messes with our family. Mostly, we just want to be left in peace. And technically, I'm not a even turtle at the moment. This is really weird, by the way. You know how many times we've wished we could be 'normal'? Or what it's like to have to hide from the entire world? Maybe Mikey was right- maybe we SHOULD have stayed back in 1602. At least THERE we were accepted and appreciated."

Al scowled over at the individual currently occupying Sam's body. He honestly hadn't considered how this experience might affect the mutant, but it seemed he was waxing philosophical. Al paced back and forth while his "guest" fidgeted nervously with the fork from his breakfast tray. He got the impression this guy wasn't used to being idle. Then he remembered Donatello's comment about wanting something to occupy himself. Maybe he could at least solve that problem.

"I guess it must feel strange for you, suddenly looking like an average Joe. If you'd like, I can arrange for you to go outside for a bit. You'd have to have an escort, but what the Hell, it's not like you can just take off with Sam's body, right? Unless you want to leave him stranded back in 1993 looking like a giant turtle. I'll go talk to Gushie and see what I can arrange. Hopefully, by now Ziggy will have figured out what he's there for, and how to get him out of there and get YOU back where you belong. Be right back!" And with that, he left the room once again. Don sighed; he was getting tired of being left alone.

Donatello thought that over for a moment. A short excursion outdoors might not be a bad idea. At the very least, he could look at something besides this boring room. Still, he resented the restrictions being placed on him. This was the third time someone had nearly accused him of wanting to remain here rather than return to his own time and place. It was insulting to think they would treat him more like a prisoner than an accidental guest. Then again, he supposed they had no REAL reason to trust him. Make off with the other guy's body? It was almost tempting....
"Well, this is another fine myth you've gotten us into..."
-from "Myth Directions"

"Where Science ends, magic begins." -Spiral, Uncanny X-Men #491
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MsMarvelDuckie
Inhuman
Joined: 28 Nov 2007, 20:55

21 Jan 2016, 02:12 #25

Inquiry, does anyone know what's up with the site lately? Seems like every post I make ends up with weird symbols instead of punctuation marks. I may have to edit my entry just so it's readable!
"Well, this is another fine myth you've gotten us into..."
-from "Myth Directions"

"Where Science ends, magic begins." -Spiral, Uncanny X-Men #491
Reply
Like