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| The Diarys of May; Origins of Mikito | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Feb 23 2009, 04:34 PM (214 Views) | |
| Mikito | Feb 23 2009, 04:34 PM Post #1 |
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Ninja
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Hi hi! ^^ Mikito has been my longest standing character since i started RPing umm... since before 2000 (that many years ago! *points*) And she is the only character i have ever written about: so here id like to present my short story based on her: Diaries of May ( I changed her name from Mikito to May for the benefit of a more western culture). A fully text formatted document verson is available but too big to add as an attatchment. sorry ^^; email if you wanna it. Prologue -I- In the silence of space gray objects float in the weightless void over the eclipsing earth and sun. This side of the misty planet below covered in darkness, while the sun winked behind it gracing the other side of the world with light. From the dark side of the earth, something shot up through the clouds. Insubstantial, merely a radio wave bouncing off the metal of the receiver dish. The frequency that had never been picked up before burnt briefly in the failing systems, sparking a long dormant tape recorder to start. Technology that had long been abandoned by the nation that had sent it to space once again flickering to life, lights winking against the pitch black of space. A green line shuddered with the crackling of static, before the weak signal finally sounds from a tinny speaker. Dancing Static fading to silence… “…eople bitch and moan about the government and how it spends the money. The English populace is taxed terribly, paying tax upon tax upon tax for everything, even paying tax just to work. Yet for some reason the government never seems to find money to pay for better schooling systems or even clean reliable public transport. The money that goes in wouldn’t seem to add up to the money that comes out. This is due to the branch of the government kept highest secret. Not even the highest of ranking officials know of this. It is rumored of the existence of the BASE. BASE (‘B’ranch of ‘AS’sassins of ‘E’ngland) delve into a number of covert killings, for the protection and interest of the worlds once superpower; England. Its agents “do not exist” and the branch has no headquarters. It is responsible for the training of some of the worlds most deadly individuals, and played a major role during the second-world-war. Because of the recent political strife of its home land BASE have been forced into a more quiet role in the government. Fears of recent allegations against officials against a war which some claimed should not have happened sparking the ever present worry of the covert role played in the capture of one of the worlds most hated men being exposed. Its operatives “do not exist”. Catered in they’re every needs they are housed in public, often appearing as everyday individuals. BASE’s only economic front appears to be something like an early pension scheme for rich families, these being the operatives they support. That is all that is known officially, but, almost naturally among an organization based upon suspicion and assassination, threat and coercion, there are secrets that are jealously held. Among these secrets, there is one, reaching back long before the origins of BASE, a hunter born for the job; a lurker of the shadows. And that secret is…" The signal fades as the speaker, a digitally masked voice fading away into static once again. The green line fizzing randomly before with a distant click, the recorder stops. A light blinks from red to green, leaving itself the only source of light visible. Electrical sparks buzzed faintly within the hull, as something burnt back into life and operation, alone in space. |
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'Give me a gun that never fires! Give me a sword that is ever blunt!. Give me a weapon that deals no wound, so long as it always strikes awe!' - Ecclesiarch Sebastian Thor, address to the Convent Sanctorum | |
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| Mikito | Feb 23 2009, 04:36 PM Post #2 |
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Ninja
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Waking Hour -1- Misty rolling blackness, tangible and solid like an inky cloud surrounding her, the dripping sound of a droplet exploding on a hard floor, splashing minutely like a small comet hitting a landmass and settling onto the quivering settling surface of a growing pool of red. The sickly smell of copper burning and strange reverberating echoes whirling like the smoky dark. A bowel shaking grumble that could have been made of the earth itself, growing to a thunder pitch around her. Growing louder and louder, more fierce and nerve shattering, yet still the casual lazy drip-drip of blood from a hand. Frozen like an inhuman claw in death-grip of the air, a slash seeping with blood. The delicate wrists of a young lady scarred fresh, the thunder growing beyond hearing pitch, until it just formed with strong viscous thuds in the pit of the stomach. Concentrating like a pain of hunger, or bottomless never ending need. Just one taste… One small drop... A tiny little pin point source of white, gently swirling in still air soft fabric licking an unreal breeze. A slow bloom of blood flower, rose on a white bed-dress. Slowly the faint image of a dress, flicking amidst the darkness rises up close. Scarred bleeding wrist contorting and a blackening purple bloating hand clutching and grabbing the air. The figure rises, and without moving, zooms forwards. Suddenly, bright light blinds everything, fading away slightly until the only source of light is the flickering reflections in from an invisible source, turning the small puddle of blood into liquid cold, quivering and shaking like a wild animal trying to escape itself. Fire. The smell of wood burning, powerful red filled the air with the sticky breath stealing billows of smoke in a gargantuan bonfire, a house on fire. It had once been a thatched house, but it was quickly being reduced to a pile of burning cinders. There it stood, from birds-eye view, like the dreamer was slowly swooping down from the horizon to see it. First just the bright dot, cool rushing, but not a feeling, a sound. Blackness again, but it was illuminated by a slowly expanding light. The house on fire a roaring inferno, the heat, felt and hurting. Again the dreamer was now inside the room, it felt the panic of the occupant. It heard the sobbing scared crying of the girl trapped inside. Soot and smoke choked the figure that was hiding in the corner of the room, wooden walls alight with the licking red and yellow flames the ceiling which was undoubtedly about to fall into the waiting flames below which were rushing up towards it. So much fire everywhere, and there a little girl. The minds eye suddenly came besides the small girl, it was a presence the girl could not reach for or feel. And suddenly as the minds eye seemed to slowly swirl behind the figure of the girl, even though her back was hunched to the back of the wall as far as she could be from the flames which were slowly burning down towards her. The girl suddenly looks up, the back of her head colliding with the minds eye and suddenly, the dream is through the eyes of the trapped girl, panic and fear, fits of coughing and the burning in her lungs and hands. And as she stares towards the tendrils of flames reaching towards her, something else in the room with her. An explosion of flames, the fire moving and writhing behind the figure which seemed to be a completely shaded black figure of a tall thin man. All around the small frightened girl the flames begin to lick and lap at the air, swirling like liquid and extending longer to the ceiling in a strange and sickening reminder of nulled reality. And in front of all this; a slowly approaching man which caused more fear than the sight of the flames writhing and swooping around it. A scream, male, ripples of delight running beneath the knifing sharpness of the tone, suddenly the figure seemed to expand without moving. Until nothing anywhere was anything. Again black, and burning pain in her neck, tingling in her limbs and the slow painful breathing that was slowly ceasing in the adolescent chest. Whilst everything seemed so dim, like slipping back into sleep there it was again. The same dull repetitive thumping, like something trying to get through a door, pain in her neck. The she opened her eyes from what was no longer only a dream, recalling the small of smoke which slowly fades to the musty but clean smell of a linen cupboard. The thick black that had descended like a velvet robe in the dream, peeling away as a dim blue tinted light invaded and the dreamer woke. Light filtered in through the open window, followed by the licking tongue of a cool caress of breeze. The moon glistened out in the black sky amidst the lazily floating clouds. A blue moon night, the world turned into shades of black and blue before the two small glittering eyes. Turning around a few times, the surrounds are those of a cluttered small bedroom; Brick-a-brack of various nationalities laid out carefully. A dream catcher hanging here, wind chimes with Celtic designs hanging by the window strapped together so make little noise. A tidy room despite the cluttered and slightly stifled feel of the room, which is taken up mostly by a desk, a small cot-bed and a large wardrobe besides a chest-of-drawers taking up moist of the wall opposite the window through which the blue shade of night shines. Again eyes glitter, the cot-bed is occupied by a small creature, sheets covering all but the small cute button nose and brown upon black deep eyes. Rags of hair covering the fluffy pillow the small obviously female child is laying on, seeming to be pitch black under the neon glow of the moon. Small panting coming from the cot-bed slows down to regular soft breathing in the peace, and the shifting shadows of the moonlight on the cot-bed quilt soon stop twitching from the rising and falling of a small chest. The square of blue reflected light from the moon shining through the opened window upon the figure, shining a slightly chaotic shadow at the foot of the bed and on the floor, the heads and tips and sharp points of the brick a brack. Almost symbolically, but entirely randomly, the small silver cross hanging from a chain of a similar metal glitters in the light, the cross dangling in front of the open window casting its shape in black shadow onto the girls forehead. Eyes narrow for a second, before the girl kicks off her quilt, the thick cushiony white quite flopping off the foot of the bed across the floor as rolls onto her front. Soon crawling up to a kneel, she huffs, sounding agitated and bothered, before she starts to punch and fluff up her mass of pillows to make them more comfortable. Her bed is mostly taken by pillows and a quilt. The childish face, dyed Indian goddess blue by the moon’s light, flops onto the pillow again face down and still. A refreshingly cool breeze brushes into the room yet again, the thin netted curtain whispering at the sides of the window caught by the soft draft, the only sound in the room, saving for the gently chiming of ornamental chimes and the repetitive “tick-tock”ing of a hanging clock above the head of the bed. The window and the outside world remains silent save for the rushing winds above pushing the clouds around, unusually quiet, the small child’s sensitive ears couldn’t even detect the screeches of bats outside, yet she knew there were trees containing the animal nearby. The road in front of the house, normally quiet did not disappoint. With an aggravated sigh, she rolls and sits up again, her pillows molding into a throne supporting her back when she sits up and stares down at her blued toes. Wiggling them slightly as something to do to pass off the sleepless boredom while a look of thought passes over the girls face. Hair dances gently, caught by the soft breeze as she flings her head to the side to peer out of the window at the night. The girl’s eyes are bright, glittering in the darkness and seeming to reflect a light back that wasn’t there. Like the rest of the room, these also should have been died to a murky blue brown colour by the moon’s light, yet they glowed their own colour, that same deep brown melting to blackness of her pupils flicking slightly as she looks up at the moon. Her bare feet touch the floor as she nimbly swings her body off the cot-bed and sits up. Rising to a stand, she pads along the oriental rugged floor to the window. Clinking and tinkling rises out of the window and engulfed by the almost oppressive silence of the night outside as her hands brush against small objects. Knocking over a letter opener shaped like a miniature Scottish blade causing it to bounce against a china pot containing the now burnt out remains of an air fragrance. The girl was barely tall enough to see over her desk, yet her desk contained clutter and memorabilia which could almost be classed as antiques. Smiling at the cool breeze, she sighs slightly staring outside into the sky before shifting slightly to catch an itch on her bare tummy. After a few more minutes, she tilts her head to the side and returns back to her bed, flopping down and bouncing with the spring of the bed, she smiles and tries to settle down again. A few minutes later a loud papery clunk startles her awake again from the depths of muggy sleepiness she had been attempting to reach, and with an annoyed sigh, she rolls over again realizing she must have knocked something off her bed. Poking a head over the side of her bed, she peers down at the floor squinting with tired eyes. Squinting slightly from gummy tired eyes, she blinks to get rid of the mist, before peering down again. Acute eyesight separating the pitch black cover of her bible laying open messily on the floor from the seemingly black rug covering her floor. Sighing, she tiredly reaches down and hauls the book bigger than her doubled fists back onto her lap, sitting up with it and peering at the page it had opened to. The moon light beaming through her window gave her adequate enough light to read to herself. “For you the sun will no more prove to be a light by day, and for brightness the moon itself will no more give you light. And Jehovah must become to you an indefinitely lasting light, and your God, your beauty.” Isaiah 60:19 Blinking slightly at the passage, only reading the single one and pouting slightly, closing the book carefully and resting it down on the bedside table besides her, she giggles silently to herself as she peers out of the window again. The moon is certainly shining bright for her now, although a distant part of her mused that being what she was; it could be pitch black and she would b able to see just fine. Tilting her head to the side at that thought, she smiles to herself and pats her black book. She’d spent years poring through it and it was still slightly jumbled to her, but with a smile her mind flittered over the first few words again; she certainly did not find the sun suitable light by day neither. This thought was followed by half awake ponderings as she found her bed unbelievably comfortable again. She found herself musing in the back of her mind fairly unsettlingly about Jesus and casting out demons, sparking a persecuted and upsetting feeling in her tummy with the memory of being thrown out of a church once before she had traveled here. Catching herself thinking this, she perks awake and sighs, fumbling around her bed for her blanky. Finding it under one of her pillows and dragging it out to her cheek with a sleepy mute yawn she clutches the white sheet to her face, nuzzling to its Victorian blue flowered pattern. From habit small points of white begin to bite on the cloth. Settling down on her bed comfortable again, wanting to go to sleep, she cuddles to her blanky and into her pillow before she begins absently flickering away thoughts in her mind. Returning again to the bible, and Jesus, she smiles subconsciously when she thinks of the feeding of the 5000. Stirring slightly again, finding that she is again too hot, she blinks and sits up annoyed on her bed. A hand brushes to her tummy yet again, this time to settle it as it grumbles. With a slight frown, she swings her heels off her bed and pouts to nothing in particular. Feeling hungry from the thought, she looks around her room, and suddenly kneels besides her bed, peering under for any snacks she might have stashed. Seconds later sitting upon the middle of her rug, she sighs and pouts again. Nibbling with small fangs on her blanky as she looks around, brightening up suddenly when she remembers: Cookies! With that she leaps to her feet eagerly and bounces to her door, a big smile spread across her lips, her two small fangs poking out from her lips because of it. With childish glee the first thing that enters her mind is the fun of sneaking in the comfortable dark, the second thing that enters with the cool wind brushing against her prepubescent body and a second childish snicker; is that she had better put on some clothes, the house got cold at night. |
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'Give me a gun that never fires! Give me a sword that is ever blunt!. Give me a weapon that deals no wound, so long as it always strikes awe!' - Ecclesiarch Sebastian Thor, address to the Convent Sanctorum | |
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| Mikito | Feb 23 2009, 04:37 PM Post #3 |
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Ninja
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Night Stalking -2- The sound of a squeaky air fan invaded the still black, before someone finally managed to locate the on button for the torch. The beam of light slams against a young looking mans face, a premature goatee of ginger having invaded like some kind of fungus, wobbling slightly as he bats away the torch. “Get that thing out of my eyes, you prat!” The torch quickly zips down, blasting the room with reflected light as it illuminates a table. Revealed from the torches beam is the insides of a small truck, a van. On the walls are the occasional scrolls of adolescent nonsense and lude innuendoes. The table turns out to only be a piece of plastic board, weather stained and balanced on top of a wooden crate such as might be used to store fruits in travel. It still smelt faintly of rotting vegetables. “Dave?-“ This one has a more mature voice than the others, belonging to the longest haired of them, a simple round face untouched by the spots of the other three members in the van. “Yeah?” And this one was the one wearing the hat, a weird long ridged hat slightly floppy which covered faint licks of black matted hair. “Why are we in a transit van again?” Behind the pair, the other two bicker in the half reflected light, the object of their interests and argument being who was going to get to use the second of the two torches. Coz it was the biggest vehicle I could find” A slight pause for a few seconds, the sound of bickering an scuffling roughening behind the pair at the ‘table’ “It stinks of vegetables… Were did you get it from again?” “Umm… Behind the grocery store?” “Ah-h… That explains the smell then” Another pause laden with guilt, before a snapped answer “Yeah! Yeah that explains the smell… Right-” Before he could gather his mind enough from the awful stench comes a sudden rawkus shout from the back of the van, quickly spinning around to glare behind him at the source of the racket. “Argh! Geroff my arm you fu-” “Shut up you two! Jeez…” The pair that, by now, were quite literally up in arms with each other grumble and settle down quietly as a third gloved hand snatches the second torch up from the floor between them. “I’m going to be using this anyway you pair of pillocks.” “What? How come you suddenly get dibs on it” “Well…” and this time his tone carried only the faintest traces of smugness, perfectly understandable as he was the only accomplished thief of the group. “I don’t suppose you know how to pick a lock in pitch black do you?” “Urm... Well…” “Look just shutit ok!? I think its about time now don’t you? My arse is numb and my nose hurts from this constant stink lets get on with it already” says the goatee totting member of the foursome. “Yeah” And with a few grunts and only the slightest thump streetlight filters into the back of the van, the crunch of the rusty hinge of the transit vans rear doors swinging open making the heckles on Dave’s neck rise. After a comical few seconds the mismatched group has made it out onto the kirb with only a small abrasion on one of the miscreants hands to show for it. “OK… is everyone here?.. Andy?” “Yeah…” Comes the response from the ginger goatee grower as he continues to dust off his jacket from falling, the scrape on his palm stinging. “Carl?” “Yeah!” This one from the long haired member of the group who seemed to be the only one who had managed to make it from the van to the pavement unscaved. “Steve?” “Why the hell are you giving us a bloody roll-call, I mean there’s only four of us, are you blind or something?” “Just say yes…” “It’s a waste of freaking time!” Dave, the member of the foursome who is wearing the hat sighs, deciding not to prolong the mindless debate in the middle of the pavement just scowls and reaches into the folds of his jacket. After fumbling around he manages to locate and drag out his pair of white plastic gloves which snap with a spring into his palm. “Everyone got their gloves” “Yeah…” Comes the quick reply from Carl “Umm... Yeah, yeah here they are” follows from Steve with only a short pause. And after a longer delay and a guilty silence, the other three members of the group slowly turn to stare at Andy, the only one to not have answered. “Err… Gloves?” Is the slightly stammering answer of a self conscious idiot. “What... You didn’t bring the freaking gloves?!” “I forgot! Ok?” “OK… OK... Just… Don’t touch anything…” And with that, as one they set off towards a thatched cottage house towards the end of the street, although, after only a few steps, Dave turns around to stare at Andy standing still were he had got out, radiating embarrassed guilt. “What are we even doing here anyway?..” After several silent seconds comes the sound of a ringing slap and a quiet groan from the back hat wearing Dave. Scarcely able to believe his ears, and ignoring the clueless Andy, he turns to the side and gives his companion Carl a withering glance. “What is he doing here?” “Err…” Quickly turning around to Andy, with a quick jabbing motion he dismisses him back to the van. “Look just… keep a watch out in the van... OK? Think you can manage that?” And is quickly replied with a withering glare from the person in question, whom, after a quick glance around the rest of the group, wordlessly slinks off back to the van muttering. Punctuating his unease by loudly slamming the passenger door of the van. “Right… Carl, can you go check the coast is clear?” “Sure, wait here an I’ll be right back” comes Carl’s quick reply, who by now has tugged down the black hood of his hoody and slapped on the elastic white gloves. Leaving the other two, he quickly jogs to the front lawn of the unimposing cottage house and ducks down behind a privet hedge. The pair waiting behind, sit down on the pavement, nonchalantly offering their backs to the cottage house, the comfortable county feel of the old building masked by the overbearing horse-chestnut tree grown in front of the house. Soon comes the silence disturbing rustling and a few pants as a black figure drops down besides them grinning. “Well?..” “It’s dead quiet. I couldn’t hear a damn thing, and it looks like no ones bothered to trim the garden for ages too.” “So?” “So… there’s a really overgrown bush right outside the front door you can use for cover.” “Great, right. Lets get too it then -ey?” Answered with affirmative grunts, the group eagerly spring to their feet. Paranoid glances down both sides of the street confirm that no one is watching, and as one they break into stealthy jogs to the gate. Greeted with a sickly green overgrown shrubbery, and vaulting over the gate as one. Ducked low they soon are hiding amongst the green and pink of a bush in an alcove besides the front door to the cottage. A warm inviting wooden carved number plate, long ago stripped of its varnish informs the intruders of the house number ‘7’ and even an ageing welcoming mat in front of the door, long ago having succumbed to invasion of weeds, grass and moss bidding them a “warm and happy welcome”. Turning and whispering conspiratorially to his partner, even in the almost overwhelming evidence that this house had not been tended to for years. “Dave… Ya got ya stuff?” “Of course, hold the torch for me will ya?” Producing a small velvet case from his inner pocket, the hat wearing Dave gives his friends a smug grin, small pin pricks of silver reflecting a distant street light as he produces some pristine lock picks. “Hehe, sit back and watch”. And with that he started trying to pick the lock. ~***~ The door slid open smoothly, the soft scraping of the fluffy carpet catching on the bottom of the door and the quiet hushed panting of someone trying unsuccessfully to breath quietly betraying the intruder. The hallway beyond glimmers, a bathroom door, opened at the end of the hallway illuminates the hallway with a soft blue tinged light from the outside world. A small porcelain white hand, bleached with an inky blue by the light peers out of the door, gripping the frame, closely followed by locks of hair, and finally a sweet girls face. Brown black eyes peeking out of her room discreetly, she quickly sinks down low, and scurries from her bedroom to the railway besides the stairs. Grinning playfully at her game of spy, in her mind replaying a mission impossible theme over and over, she sits up and peers down the stairway to the base of the stairs. A white night-dress flutters as she stands up and grips onto the rail, rising to tip toes to peek over it calculatingly before deciding the quietest course of action. Avoiding the creaky nightingale floorboards outside the bedroom, pressing her back to the rail, she grins and stops a deliberate few feet away from the bathroom door. Easily sidling sideways through the rail, as the bars were far enough apart for her to do so, she grins and drops down onto the 4th step down, landing silently and grinning, ducking down into the shadow against the rail as black barred blue light descends down the stairs. Making her silent way to the bathroom with a yawn, finally getting bored of her game, the girl snickers to herself playfully, easily making her way through the almost pitch blackness of the kitchen. Punctuating the still of the night by dragging a small footstool over the tiled floor and clip clopping it down in front of a table. With a plastic ripping, she pours the contents of the sachet into a large mug and yawns again, covering a tiny kitten fanged mouth with a small dollish hand as she absently fumbles around on the counter top and drops something into the mug. Dropping from the stool clutching the mug carefully in two babyish hands, enough light filtering through the misted windows and blinds of the kitchen to reveal her pleasantly smiling contented face as she patters barefoot over to a second stool, stepping up and opening her microwave. Flicking on a small colour TV on the table top, the kitchen is quickly bathed in electrical static light. The girl flinching for a second at the searing brightness of the TV quickly flicks the channel to what looks like a nature show, the soft green light from a show about insects in trees bathing the kitchen in a soothing green glow. Several stools litter the kitchen floor, as well as a small padded chair in front of a table. The kitchen being of a homely albeit slightly old fashioned make, features amongst some more farmhouse styled brick-a-brack, a large dark-wooded cabinet containing a number of pretty crystal drinking glasses, reflecting a myriad of little beams of light into the room, bringing the kitchen to life as a subdued homely discorama. Hitting the mute button on her handheld remote, brings a soft comfortable silence into the kitchen filled by the hooting of nightlife inhabiting her back garden and the mechanical whirring of the microwave. A loud invading Snap beep of the microwave signifies her drink has been warmed up and she quickly springs down onto the floor and runs over. Huffing on the steaming mug to cool it down, gripping it carefully in both her palms, she looks around her kitchen again happily and smiles contented, idly glancing to the TV again and ignoring the ache in her eyes from the glaring brightness of the TV. Her small kittenish incisor fangs clicking on the edge of the mug as she takes a sip, giggling playfully to herself as the marshmallow bounces softly against her nose as she drinks. Smiling to herself as she lowers the mug against her chest to cradle the warmth comfortably, she quickly snatches up the televisions remote and clicks it off, bathing the kitchen back into silence and darkness, save for the glittering light from outside hitting the crystal glasses and glinting off her eyes. She is easily able to hear the muttering and arguing outside her front door by now and pricks her ears up curiously, taking another casual sip as she listens to the people outside her house. “What’s taking so long dude? I thought you knew how to do this?” “Hey man I do, I do… this lock is freaky, it’s like something… else…” “What… You mean it’s actually locked?” “Funny Carl. Funny… Look just shut up man and let me concentrate.” Yawning after a few seconds of eves dropping, she looks down into her mug and smiles taking another careful sip and glancing back to the door before spinning around to a cupboard and deftly dragging out a cookie from the shadows. Taking a wholesome and delightful bite from the cookie and smiling in pleasure, quickly sipping from her mug again, she yawns and perks her ears at the sound of more arguing from the other side of the door. “Man… What stinks around here?” “You, you annoying get, now shut up man alright? This lock is difficult” Frowning slightly at the door, and with a stealthy little clack of the mug on the table, the girl patters through the hallway to the door. First pressing a small seashell ear to the door and attempting to stifle a small giggle at the ensuing arguments outside whilst the intruders fiddle with her door lock. “I think there’s something in this bush you know…” Inside the door comes silent mirthful nods and a slightly sinister snicker at the fact that they were currently hiding under the cat-wee bush outside her porch. Taking a small step; away from the door and stretching and arching her shoulders happily limbering up, the child smiles gleefully at the door, and then to satisfy curiosity quietly lifts the letter box flap on the inside of her door and peeks out. Blinking at the pitch black sight o the hat and matted hair, she blinks and then shakes her head dismissing the thought and quietly replaces the stool back besides the door. “It’s this bush that stinks… It’s gotta be.” “You faggot, of course it’s the friggin’ bush! Thanks to you we’re gonna stink of cat piss for the rest of the night. Now shut the hell up ok? I’m almost done with the lock…” True to his word the lock lets out a miniscule clicking sound, on the inside of the door a small red LED lights up illuminating a slightly disturbing toothy fanged grin on the small cherub child’s face inside the house. “There, I think I got it…” “It’s about freakin’ time.” Complains the, up till now, quiet Steve, huddled up furthest under the bush and rubbing his hands together. “It’s freezing out here. I hope whoever it is has got the heating on.” “Quit complaining, be quiet I’m gonna try the door.” Snatching the silver objects from the door lock and secreting them back within the black display pouch he bought them in, Dave grins at his fellow thieves and taps his nose. “Told ya, heh” “Yeah yeah” comes the ‘heard-it-all’ reply from Steve. Shuffling in the darkness and a rough elbow in the ribs quickly shoves the know-it-all to the side. “Right, when we’re inside make sure and keep shtum.” Hisses Dave short-temperedly as his colleague begins twisting the doors handle, the well oiled hinge sliding silently, and the bottom of the door gently rasping on a second mat inside the porch. Orange tinged light from distant street lamps leeks into the porch staining it a gaudy colour inside and showing off all manors of small children’s shoes lining the floor of the porch. Glistening shiny black polished hard leather shoes reminiscent of Victorian times glimmer up and greet the intrepid intruder as he takes the first step into the porch, light glinting off the metal buckle and winking to him from the floor. Besides that in the corner, an industrious or ambitious spider web hangs, showing nothing but dust and lint for its efforts. Beyond the unlit porch with a puff of warm air which smelt of linen and flowers illuminated barely by a beam of softly blue light shining through the on door of the kitchen onto the hall floor. The house. |
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'Give me a gun that never fires! Give me a sword that is ever blunt!. Give me a weapon that deals no wound, so long as it always strikes awe!' - Ecclesiarch Sebastian Thor, address to the Convent Sanctorum | |
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| Mikito | Feb 23 2009, 04:39 PM Post #4 |
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Ninja
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“We’re In” -3- Afterwards, they never did come to an agreement what happened. Andy, the one who had been left out lookout in the van the whole time had little to say on the matter save that he was sure rumors of the haunted house were true. What they did know was that –typically- the heaviest member of their party, Steve, had had to be dragged out of the house unconscious by a fuming angry Dave nursing a badly bleeding nose. Carl on the other hand never really did recover from their fateful expedition, and quickly turned away from a life of crime and went to church on time every Sunday. He also started wearing a clove of garlic at all times, much to the distaste of most of the people he would have liked to have called friends. As for the little girl in the house they entered; she thoroughly enjoyed herself, it had been a long time since she had accepted visitors and she greeted them in her own very special way. A floorboard creaked badly under the pressure of big black boots, leaving big dark footprints on the cushiony carpet. The ducking imposing figure dressed in black suit with a hooded mask wincing bodily and gingerly setting his foot down further along the homely cozy corridor. Wallpaper of warm blue is paled by a streaming beam of moonlight shining through the kitchen window and through into the hallway. Soon in the crowded corridor, with all the minute booming sounds of miniscule movement and ‘bumpings’ and masked breathing of people trying badly to stay completely silent, and in one case motionless, there is an alarmingly loud sound behind them from the door. The member bringing up the rear of the party quickly spinning round paranoid and glares the small potted broad leafed green plant near the swinging open door, being disturbed by the gentle movement of air from the open door. Frowning and glancing around again, Carl having been the last to enter the house quickly peeks outside again, only to see the daftly waving Andy in the van and nothing else save for a labyrinth of an overgrown garden. Shutting the door softly bathes his stomach in the soft red glow of the door locks LED, and blinking at the strange thing he quickly whispers for Dave’s attention, dragging him over and pointing at the doors strangely advanced lock. “Dave… Dave come look at this.” “What?” “Come have a look at this lock man…” He says as he bends down to shine his torch into the keyhole, squinting and furrowing his brow in an attempt to comprehend the lock mechanism. “It’s… Weird… Wow man, I’m impressed.” “Yeah, thanks” Comes Dave’s whispered reply, Carl not noticing the slightly worried undertones of Dave’s voice stands up again and looks around, again examining the homely insides of the cottage. Dave again glares at the lock behind his pals back, frowning before again straightening, and like his partner, looking around with a slightly paranoid feeling that he is being watched. He wouldn’t have liked to admit to any of his companions that outside the house, one seconds he had been struggling to even figure out which method would have been best to use when, all of a sudden, the door seemed to unlock itself. Taking a step away, he looks behind him a second time at the door, the haunted feeling of not being alone growing behind him. His torch chasing away the shadows on the stair case and making yet more shadows dance and weave and jeer at him from the corners of his vision, glimmers off the hanging crystal light shade box at the top of the stairs with nothing else to be seen. When he gets the unnerving feeling of being stared at from behind a second time and whirls his torch to probe the shadows of the door behind him opposite the staircase causing more shadows to run, ducking and diving from the beam as if they were alive. Swallowing hard he shakes his head violently, forcing down his nerves with the thoughts of; For gods-sakes! It’s not like your ten anymore, get a hold of yourself. To dispel the last of his doubts, he begins making another round with his torch from the spot, satisfying his rational mind that there is still nothing there. “Hey Guys! Come look at this!” The sudden breaking of the heavy silence brings Dave’s heart up to his throat, the torch suddenly burning Steve’s face pale as he stands far down the corridor in the kitchen, coroneted by the bright blue glow of the moon through the kitchen window. Squinting into the bright light he waves his hand in motion for Dave to drop the torch. Peering over a shoulder each the other two members of the group quickly congregate around him. A steaming mug still on the table with a marshmallow bobbing gently in the ripples of the mug reflects their reflections. “Wow… Would you look at that…” Whispers Carl sarcastically, grinning slightly and dismissing it, stepping away to guide his torch around the kitchen and quickly having his attention grabbed by sparkling objects, the crystal glasses in the cabinet. “It’s still warm, whoever made it must still be awake.” Hisses Steve over at Carl, slightly annoyed at his friends dismissive ignorance. “Right.” The tone Dave was using couldn’t help but grab Carl’s and Steve’s attention, and as Steve shines the torch over towards Dave, they see him reaching into a previously hidden back pocket of his jeans. Pacing to the hithero unexplored second exit of the kitchen and peering through the doorway Illuminated by blue moon light from behind and highlighted by the piercing glare of the torch light. He brings his hand down in front of him threatening the shadows and furniture in what appeared to be the sitting room, and a flick of his wrist brings out a small flick knife, glinting in the light like a fish. “What the hell are you doing with that!?” Hisses Carl, the words momentarily dragging Dave’s attention from the room beyond to glare at him, absently spinning the blade in his palm. “You think whoever made that-“ Gestures with the knife to the drink on the table and slowly turning back to the blackly engulfed sitting room beyond. “Is going to welcome us all with warm loving open arms?” “Well, no but…” Mutters Carl with a troubled frown, knives only led to trouble in his view, although in after-thought, they led to even more trouble when they were being used against you. Dave glancing back into the sitting room, picking out a settee and an interesting looking dining table seated for one lurking dimly near the back of the room. Interestingly noticing a cluttered foot stool being used as a tableside in front of a large television set snugged into the corner of the room. Turning back into the kitchen and beckoning to his partners, he whispers the plan conspiratorially. Not noticing a small moving shadow peeking out from behind the settee in the sitting room beyond, twin inquisitive glittering eyes investigating the disturbance in the kitchen with interest before again melting into the shadows. Looking around the table top at the other two people in the kitchen with him, regarding the slightly questionable Carl and his more trustworthy member Steve and quickly setting up his plan cranially. “Right… Steve, you can stay down here and keeping looking downstairs, me and you, Carl, are going upstairs. You remember what we’re looking for?” He whispers across the table, silently noting Carl’s facial wince at being dragged along and returning Steve’s acknowledging nod. “You remember what we’re looking for?” “Yeah sure…” Comes Steve’s whispered reply, the torch idly burning through into the sitting room behind Dave, highlighting for a brief second a diminutive diving shadow fleeing the sitting room beyond his attention. “Passports, sensitive mail, bank balances and photographs.” He rattles off in a memorized manor. “And anything else we might like the look of… what the hell do we want all this crap for anyway?” butts in Carl over the top of the table, his torch idly shining through the back window of the kitchen. Letting out a short tempered growl, Dave quickly has the torch snatched away from Carl, hissing threateningly though clenched teeth. “Gimme that! You want to let the whole neighborhood know we’re in here? Idiot!” “Freakin’ Chill man… Jeez…” “Carl does have a point though y’know Dave… Why –do- we need too get all this paraphernalia?” Queries Steve calmly, glaring at Carl all the same for his mistake and leaning casually on the table. “Look, do you need to ask questions? Just get it so we can get out of here I’m getting fed up with this place…” Almost before he has finished talking he glances over his shoulder into the darkened sitting room beyond. Turning back to see the reluctant and agreeing nod from Steve and a slightly lopsided ‘knowing’ grin on Carl’s face. “Lets get on with this… Steve, check downstairs again alright? Me and Carl are gonna check upstairs, make sure there isn’t going to be any ‘problems.” Motioning with the glittering knife slightly, he casts the torch through the sitting room again, still unable to shake off the feeling of being watched before beckoning to Carl with the shining metal in his hand and stalking off out of the kitchen back down the hallway towards the door. ~***~ Blue light invading the corridor beyond greets the pair creeping through the house. Black shadow lines scoring on the wall on the stairs, the blue moon light shining through the opened bathroom door at the very top of the stairs. The open wooden misted windowed door swinging gently on its hinges in a small fluctuating breeze from the opened window of the bathroom. The bars of the stair rail sending their shadows onto Dave’s face as he creeps up the stairs, black and staining blue light patterning his wincing face as the stair beneath him gives slightly emitting a loud guttural wooden creak. “Shhh, man” Comes the gloating hiss from behind, Carl delighting in pointing out the slightest detail to annoy the irritable ‘leader’. “Shutit you.” Is the almost instant reply as Dave swings around, torch glaring blindly up the stairs and shimmering on the marbled tiles of the bathroom wall as he brings the knife hovering under Carl’s smirking gaze. Glancing back up at the top of the stairs and fighting down the skittish butterflies in his stomach, frowning at his own nervousness and carefully beginning yet again to edge his way up the stairs, The torch swinging around in his hands to explore the upper landing as he rises to the top of the stairs. Suddenly axing the torch to the recesses of the landing and chasing a movement in the corner of his eye, he lets out a small grunt at the light of a flickering curtain in a bedroom beyond. Shaking his head with a sigh, he gestures to Carl behind him and jabs towards the bathroom, himself quietly creeping down the soft carpeted corridor. Snapping off the torch in his hand and bringing the landing into darkness, he grins slightly, not wanting his element of surprise to be given away by his torch, silently pressing his ear to the cool polished wood of the first closed door and holding his breath. Behind him Carl peering through a misty windowed wooden door into a white and green tiled bathroom gleaming in the moonlight, his face dipped into the cold breeze rushing in through the open window with the moonlight and disturbing the thin drapes there. The bathroom smelt of lavender, and although pokey small had quite a cozy feel, or so he thought. There was even a small yellow rubber duckie. Catching the rustling movement of the cream coloured shower curtain, like everything else stained blue in the strong bright moonlight, he catches his breath. Glacing around quickly and regretting not being as well prepared as his mate Dave, he grabs the first thing in sight. Slowly reaching out for the crispy twitching shower curtain, he glances for a second out into the landing to see Dave paying no attention, his voice catching in his throat soundless as he tries to catch his attention. Finally ripping the shower curtain to the side with a shrieking of metal hooks, he leaps forwards, prepared to bring the toilet brush down to beat… thin air. Blinking humiliated at the empty glittering clean bath in front of him behind the shower curtain for a few seconds, he again spins around, heart thumping, arm raised, face to face with Dave. “What the hell are you clowning around for idiot?!.. And what the hello are you going to do with that?” Growls Dave as he grabs the toilet brush angrily from Carl’s hands and tosses it into the bath. “B…But, there was-,” Stammers Carl, head swinging to and from the bath and the enraged Dave. “There was what? A nasty stain you had to scrub? A killer rubber duck? Bloody retard.” “Look man, I thought there was someone hiding in the bathtub.” “Oh yeah ri- huh” Dave suddenly turns around staring down the landing, his torch highlighting the stair well and sending even stronger jail bars against the wall. “Did you hear something?” “N-no…” Carl manages to stutter, still off-balance staring at Dave and trying to force his heart down from his throat. Something was bloody well wrong with this house. Seeing Dave, who normally was as solid as a rock get so skittish was having an even stronger effect on him. Peering over his shoulder and wishing he had just waited in the car with Andy. With the sudden slightly echoing sound of a bodily thud from downstairs, Dave growls and grabs Carl’s sleeve, dragging him onto the top of the landing and shining the torch down the well of the stairs. “Someone’s down there!” Whimpers Carl, looking sickly pale in the moons blue pallor “You don’t say.” Comes the harshly sarcastic reply from his partner before he grunts and shoves thr torch into Carl’s unresisting arms. “Go check if Steve’s OK. I’m going to try find the rest of the stuff.” “W.-What?” Yelps Carl, thoroughly not enjoying the thought of roaming this freaking house on his own. Glancing down the stairs towards the door, he turns back to Dave with a bottom lip trembling in fear. “But hat if there’s someone down there?” “Then deal with them.” “B- But “Listen” Grumbles Dave as the knife in his grip chooses that moment to wink in reflected torchlight and grab Carl’s suddenly transfixed horrified gaze. “Deal with them, or deal with me.” Unashamedly quivering by now in the darkness and seeing skittering shadows and shapes wherever he looks, he stumbles towards the stairs simply to escape the gloating glinting of the knife. And after taking a deep breath and letting it out shuddering, he takes the first step down the stairs, torch light beaming ahead of him exploring the way and banishing the stalking shadows. At the top of the stairs left alone in the descending moonlight darkness, stifled by shadows, Dave growls a silent challenge to whoever is in the house, hunching down low as if to mimic the stalking shadows and creeping down the corridor of the landing. Waving the knife around in front of him to ward off the invisible spectators he feels watching him, the back of his neck burning under invisible gazes. Movements in his head and the corner of his eyes drag his gaze from left to right ion vain attempts to catch them, swinging his head to turn this way and that. Surrounded by the stifling silence of the midnight house when Carl finally disappears off the bottom of the stairs and the creaking of floorboards fading with him, Dave wheels around straight away, rounding on the wooden creaking besides him. Staring at the leisurely swinging door caught in the gentle whims of a breeze from an open window, he frowns. Sneaking up on the door and the crack of light coming from within, squinting into the narrow column of light as he presses even closer to the door. His brow raises in an arch of surprise and perplex. “What the hell…” |
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'Give me a gun that never fires! Give me a sword that is ever blunt!. Give me a weapon that deals no wound, so long as it always strikes awe!' - Ecclesiarch Sebastian Thor, address to the Convent Sanctorum | |
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| Mikito | Feb 23 2009, 04:40 PM Post #5 |
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Ninja
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-II- Millions of stars, twinkling in an assorted spray of gems and precious stones in the night reflecting in the streams and rivers of the valley below. “…Of course, the difficulty of the subject is that it is primarily nocturnal to a degree in which it is unable to operate under and during daylight hours. Scientific experimentation on which samples as could be obtained have proven no definitive reason for these diurnal epidermal and psycho cognitive discrepancies, leading us to explore more unconventional areas of research. The physiology of the subject can only be described as unique, incorporating both brilliant and abysmal aspects for our research. Experiments leading to obscure and uncertain conclusions prove only definitely of the complex meld of known science and supernatural science, and that the subject is by no means, despite any physical and behavioral similarities, human or of any subspecies of. The subject is for all intents and purposes, ageless, in that the physical cells of its body replace and re-grow in perfect equilibrium. This hypo-restoration of the cells also seems to lead to a regenerative process almost sentient. Once separated from the host body cells soon deteriorate and perish, even under perfect growth conditions this consequence is observed. Severe reaction to excess heat and sunlight is observed, the pigmented cells on the epidermal layers of the subjects combusting under even mild mixed infrared and ultra violet. This extreme reaction has been traced to the presence of photosensitive chemicals within the ‘blood’ stream of the subject. Attempts to remove this chemical from a prior host ended in complete failure and the degenerative demise of the test subject. (See articles on test subject No#76891 for additional information.) As expected the subject has adapted to darkness. Photosensitive cells within the eyes of the subject are close to quadruple those of an average humans, more akin to an owls. Additional sensory advances in smell and hearing are suspected to be due to larger brain nodes. However without a successful lobotomy to prove these conclusion this is only theory. Diet of all subjects has been observed as primarily red blood. It is believed that the subjects are unable to biologically create their own blood and must ‘steal’ it through the form of blood drinking from other living beings. Once ingested, the blood is slowly assimilated through a network of capillaries leading from the intestines into the subjects own blood stream. Linked to this strange genetic trait is the noted increased strength and agility observed in specimens which have been provided with adequate nourishments. Unfortunately as there has been no satisfactory manufacturable product supplement, nourishment has been provided via recently deceased and occasionally live sources. Thus leading us to believe that the remarkable physical traits of the species of the subject is linked somehow to the influx of red blood. Again research is hindered by the lack of any adequate specimen to fully experiment and explore upon, but It is theorized by leading researchers that the skeletal-muscular systems of the subject as a species is, liken to the cells hypo-regenerative properties, high efficiency and fast burning. This theory is supported logically by the fact that the subject, when deprived of adequate nourishment soon becomes weakened, and in severe cases worsens to a state of muscle deterioration and symptoms akin to blood loss. For a further psychological examination of test subject No#88791 archives have logged one file for high security personnel only.” |
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'Give me a gun that never fires! Give me a sword that is ever blunt!. Give me a weapon that deals no wound, so long as it always strikes awe!' - Ecclesiarch Sebastian Thor, address to the Convent Sanctorum | |
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12:32 AM Jul 11