Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Welcome to The Rpg Spot. We hope you enjoy your visit.


You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free.


Join our community!


If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features:

Username:   Password:
Chapter 2 Golden Opportunity; Want feedback please (X Marks the spot)
Topic Started: Apr 3 2006, 08:29 PM (214 Views)
Holocollector
Christmas is Coming
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
X Marks the Spot the Hunter
by Holocollector (Claudio Apolinar)

Description:
Little things have meaning, each and every one of them especially when someone dies. So now things are changing rapidly as the world changes. Life in peril has opened only so many door ways. And such is the life of an assassin.

Ok so I inserted Chapter 1. The second post in this thread WILL CONTAIN chapter 2. It was edited heavily, so if you didn't read it before you need to read it again before this chapter is read. EDITED CHAPTER 1 for grammar, spelling. There should be no problems now. Added more details, and thoughts, and made things much clearer. Also the emotions were made much clearer in CHAPTER 1. You will get my intention now I believe, and even some hidden meanings. So give it a chance, if you didn't like it before. CHAPTER 2 will be in the second post as I said.


Chapter 1
The Mouse

Description: Little things have meaning, each and every one of them especially when someone dies. So now things are changing rapidly as the world changes. Life in peril has opened many door ways. And such is the life of an assassin.

X Marks the Spot the Hunter
Chapter 1
The Mouse


They were in a cave, yet the dead silence, the red water that splashed on the ground. All of it seemed familiar though. Gun shots heard, short blond hair moved lightly in the wind. Dressed in a suit a woman held a grey magnum gun in her hands. Her eyes that looked coldly at the man she held within her grasp as if trapped in a web. She was like a demon, even though she didn't know it, a deranged mad woman too. If she wasn't too careful someone could be watching. But then again maybe she was not stupid, and she didn't care. At least not right now. She didn't care for the man plainly. She was fixated that he had to die. Time after time she smiled wryly. It was the oddest smile as she had the look of happiness in her eyes. Happiness that was frightening. Never though were there drops of tears in her eyes even with the drops of water within the cave. Never did she show emotion. She was as cold as solid ice except for that hideous smile. That hideous smile and death would probably reach the hapless man.

Complete horror and fear in every twinkle of the man's eye to which she had pointed the gun to. To his knowledge he had done nothing. He was breathing heavily chest throbbing back and forth like a mouse pulsating violently, rubbing his hands chafing the cold as if succumbing. He was going to die. He would meet his fate in a dark lonely place nowhere. No one knew where he was. No one would save him. He felt so alone and cornered. And here was a cold blond haired woman dressed in a suit. A psychopath that shined in the pale night moonlight with the will to murder. A barrel gun held precariously in her hand, yellow fingers on the trigger, just itching to take that she would claim and take the air out of him by clicking the trigger and hitting the barrel in his chest.

The man spewed only words, but then he finally said something. His voice and body a nervous wreck. His skin pale white as a ghost. He looked to be in pain.
"But... why do you... want to kill me," he stuttered. "I am nothing, I am nothing, but a poor man."

This was true. The man was wearing clothes and in such a ragged appearance he gave the impression of being a person with no identity. That didn't matter though, maybe it mattered to the woman somehow. This though for her was clean work having done so all these years. Killing a person that was. Even the rapid beating of his heart from breathing from fear did not dissuade her. The way he spoke, the way he breathed, the way he sweated. It was almost as if she expected it.

"And why do you think it concerns me," she replied very coldly with that haunting smile. I expected you to react this way this nervously. For all you could speak you wouldn't be able to hold your breath. I would hate to disappoint you."

"To disappoint you, what do you mean?" he replied worriedly air escaping him. There were tears in the man's eyes, you could see them twinkle and shine. It was probably apparent to him what she meant, he just chose to ignore it then.
It all happened so fast. She aimed at the barrel of his chest at razor sharp speed, pressed the trigger slowly with her fingers as if fixated at the air undulating in his chest, and let the bullet whiz fast like a blur of colors. She shot him so many times there was no point counting, the bullet clips falling all to the ground. The repeated gun shots resonated and repeated for miles and miles around. Who would have guessed that such a woman existed? His chest that had stopped throbbing. The man was dead and as rigid as icy rock and there were no voices left to resonate in that icy empty cave chamber. She was an abomination amidst nothingness. Only one fixture of moonlight from a hole within the cave allowing for rays to fall upon her face. She had a faint trace of laughter on her complexion. And as if transformed her eyes turned red as a demon.

"And they say death follows us assassins. How innocent. I think it is rather appropriate,” she said. There could have been more truth to her words. One would never know. But part of the reason she came here was something else. Someone that she had to find. Someone that she had to kill. “No assassin in this world has any right to kill you but me. Target X I am coming to kill you. All those years of your disappearance will come to an end now that I am in your town. I will have you dead faster than what was this dead man’s pulse."

She pocketed her gun, anger in her eyes. She would find Target X and would wring the life out of him even if it meant destroying him bringing out fear and making his heart as fast as possible. Looking back quickly, the cave memories came flooding back, and she knew by looking at the white body on the floor that she had killed a mouse. And yet for a human mouse, the town was not that far ahead. It was a wondrous accomplishment in the worst of all ways.
Not so long after when darkness permeated light came into being from tiny entanglements of branches in tress a shadow came peering out of the blue where a unknown voice cried desperately for help "I must save them."
Note: My english writing skills need work so don´t even think of asking me to change it entirely or relearn my english (the impossible). I don´t like the signature, I willl eventually add a picture.
 
Holocollector
Christmas is Coming
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Chapter 2 Golden Opportunity

They were in the town’s biggest pub. The town was famous for having the only river known to have pearls within the land. It was like a sea of greed, green from its many uses. Many treasure seekers would come searching for treasure and come dine at the Rain Pub. Here they were arriving and unwinding, and forgetting the worries of the day. Taking of their mud sodden boots having waded in the river, some even placing them on the table. Some even boasted how big their findings were.

“I just found a 30 pound pearl, where the sharks were. I wager I got the biggest pearl here,” said a short man.

“Really half-pint, I would expect no less from you.” Canniber a man of short stature put the gigantic circular silver pearl unto the table. It was of perfect shape and luster. There was a huge commotion at such a rare finding. Weighing at an enormous 30 pounds it was a legendary discovery.

People looked at it with avarice but they maintained their ground. Indeed some of them that were ready to take the plunge for wealth were kept at bay by strong hands by sympathizers. Something inside of Canniber's friends kept them at bay. The commotion inside of them ignited like a freshly lit fire.

“I am going to celebrate guys. Today is the day I get to leave this town. Free drinks for everyone!”

Fresh mead was sure to be laid one very table. It almost glittered as if it was gold. It was if it shined of untold riches. Even the most insatiable could not complain at such grand mead. All the hoopla and commotion spread out as if it were a very rainy day. Everyone seemed to have to be covered in it. That sometimes elusive feeling of happiness. They were happier than a mother with a newborn child if that was possible.

Poor Canniber was the small scrawny man’s name who had acquired the treasure. He had a disease that was slowly deteriorating his health. And he had breathing problems for a long time now. One would wonder if the poor chap was diving in that river for too long or all his life. Just maybe so that he could move on. One would never know. However, with a new found wealth, and a new set of motivating spirits within him. He set out of the Rain Pub never to be seen again leaving his past unknown. Tears in his eyes. Friends that never were be seen again. A legendary pub disappearing. Tears that shined in their eyes, streaming down their faces. “Good bye friends, so long!” he said teary eyed. The door of the pub closed rapidly, and there was silence for a little while.

Then all hell broke lose. “Let’s celebrate some more!” said a red-haired man among the celebrating group said jovially almost as if someone could question his sanity. But there were none that would. Then echoes of shouts from all around could be heard from the room.

“Aye!”

“Yay!”

It was if everyone was full of lively spirit. Drinking mead to their heart’s content. Friends that had pitied for Canniber’s frail health, and having lived with him for so long were happy. And being friends for so long seemed to emanate an aura of lively spirit at his departure.

Such tales were not unheard of such legendary riches and undertakings. They were in fact a daily routine. They were a small spec of the legends that had been heard around town over the years at the pub. And here all these people all came here to be told all these wild tales. It was almost as if this town was like the hub of all grand things. It was the most lively one you could find for miles and miles around with its lively wooden colored beams. But as if unhindered by such grand tales of accomplishments and adventure, almost as if unimpressed, almost as if ignorant and foolish. A man with black hair called hurriedly from a table calmly for more golden mead as if in a storm, unchanged and unfazed at such grandeur. As if setting sail with his mast, the water pulling rapidly and he had the calmest expression on his face.

“Waitress! I want more mead!” he said rapidly, shouting over his lungs out that had rapidly expanded.

The waitress as if brazing for the storm that he was in whirled around like a tornado in two seconds and was there.

“Yes you called me? So you want more mead right sir?” She took a quick glance at the 2 gallon mead jug that was on the table that Canniber had given out for free from the celebration. “You drank it all! You impress me sir! Few can drink this much!” she said astounded. Her eyes brows shot straight up. What a surprise she couldn’t help thinking. What a horrible man she thought. Who was this man? Wasn’t he satisfied with the fine mead Canniber had given him on such a glorious day?

“Oh you mean this thing? I drink only 2 gallons every day.”

“You are serious,” said the waitress thunder-struck.

“Yes very much so,” said a red-haired girl sitting at that very table. “Stupid idiot forgets everything every few hours,” she said helplessly.

“Oh I see,” she said nervously. “Well I will be back with a fresh jug just for you sir. You should just wait for it. So many customers today.” She went to the revolving door straight into the kitchen face full of sweat from a good day’s work.

Bricks was the man’s name who had wanted such fine mead. An unusual fellow who was nonchalant in many ways and situations, he always seemed to forget everything in the span of a few hours. One could wonder how he could manage anything. For that, luckily he had at his side a trusty female companion always willing to lay a hand. She had just remembered something and proceeded to tell him something as calmly as possible.

“You Inept Fool! Did you just forget what I told you yesterday about that murder that took place!” Crimson said clearly angry.

“Oh that!” His companion Bricks said nonchalantly as usual. He was used to forgetting things all the time.

He took out a paper from his pocket and proceeded to examine it as if they were old relics.

“Um, what do you expect, I couldn’t read your handwriting,” Bricks said.

“You’re just hopeless, I bet you didn’t even try reading the memory note in your pocket I give you each day. Forgetting these things every few hours sounds like fun,” she said giving him that old classic look as always. She was a very pretty attractive girl, she had the most vibrant red long hair you could find from anyone in town. In fact her name was Crimson. She had small ears and a shrewd look. “They even hired you as an assassin. It is a wonder they have not killed you yet with you forgetting everything.” Her voice sounded worried but she kept her voice low examining the nearby tables in case someone was eavesdropping. Who knew if the assailant would appear at any moment barging in? Who knew what that sick person would do?

“What,” he asked surprised. “What happened?” She tried holding her self back at such an annoyance. She felt a bit sad, she hid it pretty well. But still she had to let it all out even if little by little.

“One of our assassin members Ulin was found assassinated shot with 30 bullet wounds. Poor man bled to death. The assassin somehow led him to a cave and there he was assassinated.”

“What? You mean it?” he said clueless.

She was annoyed but she it had it all locked inside waiting to be free. This feeling of sadness and anger. Her forehead creased slightly as if thinking, pensive. This was not a situation when one was suppose to be completely clueless, but she supposed he could not help it. The poor man was dressed in dirty brown rags so that he could not be identified, alone probably begging for his life. And he was murdered very cold bloodily. Something was not right. Something about it was very peculiar. Yet why was this happening? Why all the hatred? Why all this monstrosity that had led to such a death? And why did he leave a black haired widow behind with children? She felt rage deep down as if from a gash inside as if bleeding from thoughts and not from pain. It was mental pain but really it was worse than physical pain. Was mental pain more harmful that physical pain? She wanted to rid the world of whoever this person was.

“He was as white as a ghost when I had seen him,” said Crimson dryly.” Had this wooden spoon his wife had made especially for him tucked inside his pocket. I never had seen a person in so much fear. I suspect the person is highly trained and may have unusual skills. Ulin was not be taken lightly. We must treat this person very seriously for what this assassin did.”

You could see a sad expression on Brick’s face even though he would probably forget it in a few hours. It was memorable though. Even if he would not remember it, at least others would.

“I am sure we will find whoever it was Crimson,” he said.

“And that is not all. His wife took it really hard, I heard.” A very suspicious uninvited guest’s voice interjected from behind like a sudden burst of jet stream. Hairs were on all ends at such an unexpected revealing outburst. Who was this person?

Crimson’s face turned pal red. She spun her head so fast at lightning fast speed as if falling rapidly. Who was this person and how did he know? Sweat drops on her face. She was breathing rapidly from fear. Was he interrupting the conversation, or was he working with the assassin?

There now seemed to be an eerie darkness in the room. The whole place that seemed to full of the activity from celebration, now seemed slow to a crawl. Was this how it felt to be suddenly living and now near death? That everything that seemed so lively now seemed dead?

“Let us just say I heard her screaming in the streets crying in pain about how her husband died. I wouldn’t be surprised if the assassin was able to find her after her distraught state, and destroy her after what she did to Ulin.”

“You *censored*!” Bricks said. He whirled around at such an impressive speed lunging at the man. But would he catch him?

Just when they were about to go after the man, the waitress appeared, with her heavy two gallon jug from the kitchen. She came running calmly. “Hey mister I got you the 2 gallon golden mead just as you wanted. Ahhhhhhhhhhh!” She had dropped the mead jug like a bomb when the man tried to escape when he ran into her spilling all the golden mead on the floor.”

“You are mine!” Said Bricks angry red in the face who grabbed him by the shirt at razor sharp speed. “You *censored*, you can’t escape now! You will tell me where she is!”

The lady waitress was clueless distraught over the spilled mead. Very clearly she had no idea of what was going on. “Hey, I am sorry Mister, do you want some more mead?”

To be continued.
Note: My english writing skills need work so don´t even think of asking me to change it entirely or relearn my english (the impossible). I don´t like the signature, I willl eventually add a picture.
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
« Previous Topic · Creative Writing · Next Topic »

edge created by tiptopolive of IDS