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Ungod

I'm starting a novel/reputation needed

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I get random ideas at random times, and today, when I opened the MD forum, I saw Ignnus' topic. Then I thought 'Why not?'.

But I lack the time to write something elaborate, so it'll be some gag stuff. Also, I need reputation to keep going. Positive or negative, it doesn't matter. Hit the down/up button and I will continue writing new 'episodes'.  

Today, it's 'The Necrovion Cafe'.

Ignnus was dragging his feet across the Necrovion wasteland. After he left the House hours ago, he managed to climb all the stairs without assistance and was now contemplating death. After all, what else was he to do while leaning on the graveyard brick wall, wheezing like a geezer?

I'm tired of this ****, he mumbled. 

The priests were doing their habitual techno dance around the literate bonfire. Ignnus must have lost it seeing them, because he started to scream:

I'm tired of this SHIIIIIT! I want asphalt! I want a hat, I want a gas mask and...and...a coffee would be great...'

The priests were too busy to stop and listen, but out of nowhere, a shade appeared.

Did you say... coffee? it asked.

Yeah, said Ignnus. Do you have some?

There is a price to pay...for everything, the shade smirked.

Price? scoffed Ignnus. I would KILL for a cup of coffee. How's that for a price?

The shade chuckled. 'It seems we have found what to motivate our troops with, Master.'

...………...…......…………………………………...…………………...…………......………......…......…………...…………..

Ignnus was sipping his freshly-baked beans coffee, with sugar cane and sour cream on top, at the Necrovion Café. He looked as happy as a corporate employee at lunch - only he carried a bazooka on his back. Somewhere, the Shade Sentinel was grinning. 

 

 

 

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21 hours ago, Nava said:

Criticism: no Shade would call another Master.

Oh, k.

A popular inn by the lake:

Seigheart decided to take a break from his tireless wandering in Marind Bell. What better place to rest than that popular place with a terrific view of the lake, whose name he can never remember? He consciously avoided the tables in the front and chose a small lonely one on the side, close to the kitchen. The older daughter of the owner brought his tea, with a rascal smile in her eyes. How old is she, thought Seigheart...

As the crimson sky melted into the azure waves, the faint colour of nostalgia overcame Seig. As we grow up, we must discard old memories and old interests - just like a snake sheds its skin. People that have ventured in your life and one day disappeared, people you cared for, people you trusted, people...

Mommy, isn't it ready yet? he heard from the kitchen.

I told you to wait a while! 

You know, today I heard Ms. Harris that our neighbor Mrs. Huff was having an affair. Mommy, what's an affair?

Shut up! You don't need to know that! Mrs. Huff's life is none of your business.

But mommy, Ms. Harris was angry, she said the mailman is only 20! 

Seigheart lost interest in such a trivial conversation, although he felt some of that nostalgia cleared off. Still, the snake analogy seems true enough. Old loves, old passions and memories - can you live while holding on to them? Isn't it painful? How can you grow as a human being without changing part of yourself? And then, sure, not all memories are...

Lisa! Hey, Lisa! Where's the axe? 

Whatcha need it for?

I'm not taking this **** anymore from Jim! I don't care he's got pals in Loreroot, I've had enough.

John, be careful! Don't do anything stupid! shouted the woman.

When haven't I been careful, he shouted back. Ah, found it.

… But you cannot go on living in a suit that fits you no more. You must give up a part of yourself, you must accept a loss. Time goes on, we grow older, and we must! we must give up our dreams. Snakes probably do not dream - they don't build these huge sand castles that fill our hearts with joy, trapping the mind that would otherwise destroy it in a second. No, it's under time's scrutiny they...

Mom, the guy over there only had a tea. And he's holding all the table to himself. 

It's a customer, so let it be.

But there are some people waiting.

That's a small table he's at, and the guys are waiting won't take it anyway. 

Alright... how much is the tea, anyway? Oh, that little? Fine, I'll add a little extra - I've been wanting a new pair of earrings.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Seigheart raised himself from the table. The crimson sky was melting into the azure lake, but he felt no sadness, no nostalgia, not a shred of compassion for the world. Yet he was grateful - these feelings we have, feelings that could drag us into the abyss - they are easily cured at this popular place with a terrific view of the lake, whose name he can never remember.

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Folks, don't be afraid to hit the 'down' reputation. I feel more motivated when I'm put down (that's when I'm not the one doing it, which happens often when looking back). Hit that button, bleed it, abuse it, say 'Ungod, a fart at the queen's table is funnier than those attempts of yours'. I need feedback :)

It's not the best title, but I can't think of something else  - Birds on a wire:

Walking through the Whisper Alley, Jubaris felt a strange feeling of calmness.
It must have been the sight of three old men on a bench, because
they looked as if nothing could ever bother them. Lined up as for a parade,
in crisp clean clothes, their faces were almost glowing in the afternoon light. Jubaris
thought 'Some day, when I'll be old, I'd like to look just like them.' He purposefully
slowed down, to hear their conversation.
Yesterday I went to the venison store and they had a new girl working there, said one.
Ha? A new what? asked another.
A new girl! shouted the other. Fresh out of the box. Big tits, too.
Ha? What about mitts? It's always warm in here.
Jonn, would you shout what I said into his other ear? This one is already busted.
My name is not Jonn, how many times do I have to tell you? said the third.
Whatever, I don't want to spend all day learning your name. Your mother was Chinese, after all.
She took my father's name!
Either way, I can't pronounce fancy foreign names.
But I'm called Jeremy!
So, Jonn, how about we go to the store tomorrow? All three of us?
Eh...I can't. I have an appointment.
With whom? The mortician?
With the...dentist. I have a ... new cavity.
Yea, cavities in ceramic teeth, that's a new thing. You should stay away from the lake,
you've already been reported for peeping twice.
That's none of your business!
What? Peaches? I love peaches!
'Some day I'll be old', thought Jubaris, picking up the pace.

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Wow Ungod, never have i thought someone could get so angry/emotional dare i say butthurt over a story by a super novice aspiring writer. Regardless, you seem to have riled up yourself and i'm an advocate of free speech anyway. As much as i'm offended there is always something funny and refreshing about these reactions that i know too well by now. However i'd ask not to use my name or nickname without my permission in any story.  Thanks.

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I think you are mistaken about something?? My topic is an reaction to yours, but not something 'against' it, but 'along' it. It occurred to me, when I started this, that a novel consisting of episodes, much like mangas, could actually work (and it was your post that made me think about it).

Idk what you assumed, but it was a bad assumption :P 

About names: nasty bugger. I believe it's not ok to use people's names without permission, but my little stories are written such as to not be offensive or injurious to the main character. And some are not active anymore, I could very well send a PM that would never be read... Anyways, as I take care to not offend anyone, I will not ask for permission for names to appear in this thread, unless being asked explicitly, as you did, also because I can't edit posts later and change the name. 

Btw, your name was up there first because you inspired this thread, so... you seem to be upset for no reason. Do continue writing your novel, and compete with me :P 

Edit: forgot to mention that this isn't a serious attempt at literature, as I seem to have no definite style of my own and I often cringe when reading some stuff I wrote. It's me fooling around, although in a careful and 'vectorized' manner. It's experimenting, and you always get something out of it.

Edited by Ungod

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2 minutes ago, Ungod said:

I will not ask for permission for names to appear in this thread, unless being asked explicitly, as you did, also because I can't edit posts later and change the name

Kinda my point don't cha know?

 

3 minutes ago, Ungod said:

I think you are mistaken about something?? My topic is an reaction to yours, but not something 'against' it, but 'along' it. It occurred to me, when I started this, that a novel consisting of episodes, much like mangas, could actually work (and it was your post that made me think about it).

Of course, what was i thinking :XDDD darn me and my needless irrational fears that makes me neurotic and my life hell, well, everyone is special in its own way. 

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And that's the last post i'll make on this topic, i'm very sorry. You can tag along if you want, either way nothing would stop those 100 chapters from getting churned out. Even though MD helps a lot for me to be able to write and i had no plans for this project before whatsoever MD is in no terms requisite to follow up my story.

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I'll take it as it is, then :) 

Spoiler

(what I don't feel good about is that bit with the fears that make your life hell, fears are supposed to be conquered or embraced, no? I think lashtal had some talks on fear, although I don't remember the conclusions :D Personally, I think you shouldn't be afraid of some posts on a forum)

 

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No feedback on my previous gag :(

Love and fear

Azull retreated to his quiet study, where at times he conversed with the ancients. Today he had an appointment with Machiavelli, whose thoughts materialized upon opening a Necrovion book. He was now a translucent ghost, flickering above the said book, grimacing as if tipsy.

Ah, Niccolo! Good to see you again, said Azull. I hope you remember what we planned on discussing. Let's get to it - how else do you argument that it is better to be feared than loved?

I say it is better to be loooved, said Machiavelli.

Excuse me? Since when?! exclaimed Azull.

Since yesterday. Went to Firenze...hic! and met a lovely young woman - Chiara. The things we did last night, hic!  - I can't begin to tell you.

That's...something else, said Azull. We were talking about principalities, about leaders. 

No, no, it is better to be loved, trust me, replied Machivelli. I swear to hic! God last night was the best night of my life.

Again, we are not talking about last night. You were saying it is safer to be feared than loved, because men are ungrateful, fickle, false, cowardly, covetous, that love is preserved by the link of obligation which, owing to the baseness of men, is broken at every opportunity for their advantage; but fear preserves you by a dread of punishment which never fails.

Me? I don't remember...hic!

Yes, you! In the book you wrote for Lorenzo!

Lorenzo? Which Lorenzo? Oh, that Lorenzo! I thought you meant the barber. Yeah, that was...that was...to think of all I did for the republic, and how they treated me...I had a dream, you know? Hic! A dream where Rome was back, back to its former glory, shining splendidly in the sunrise! A dream where just people live under the best kind of government - the Republic. And you know what they did to me? Hic! Do you know?! 

Machiavelli started sobbing, cursing at his enemies and the lack of vision of Florentine leaders. Azull listened to him for a few minutes, then closed the book. He took his pouch from a drawer and rolled a cigarette. Taking a puff, he slammed shut the drawer:

F****** drunkard!

 

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This one is Lord of the flies:

 

Thinking of making quick money, Ungod set up a small hut on a slope of Golemus mountain,
near the rich veins of mineral ore. Aiming for londsdaleite shard, gold and gems, he waved his pickaxe every morning, happily singing 'the lumberjack song'. His only problem was a type of imp-like creature populating those parts, which often caused him trouble. Big heads, small legs, savage screams and incredible stamina. Ungod hated them. The locals called them 'kids'.

One day, when the supposed night was giving way to day, he heard some suspicious sounds in 
front of his door. Grabbing the pickaxe, he rushed outside, only to see a bunch of naked kids staring at him.
Get outta here, you scoundrels! he waved his pickaxe.

We came to say we're sorry, mister, said one. 

Huh?

Ungod just stood there, speechless.

Yeah, said another, we're sorry to have caused you trouble.

Aha! exclaimed Ungod. I think I know what happened. Finally, your parents are taking action.
Good, you leave now, he said, turning his back. 

No, we're really sorry. Reeeealllly sorry.

So what? Get lost, said Ungod.

We have brough you a hat. The sun will burn all your hair and you will be baald.

Ungod slowly took the hat, grumbling.

Ok, hrm, thank you, now...leave.

Oh, we also got you a magnifying lens. It's kinda old, though.

Uhh...ok, it's...unusable... Can you leave now? I thought you were burglars.

Wait, Jim found something in the cave yesterday. Is it a precious gem?

One of the kids stepped forward and showed him a small dirty rock. Ungod laid aside the pickaxe to take a better look at it. 
Nah, it's just some crystal, he said, throwing it aside. He reached for his pickaxe, but it was gone.

I have it! said one of the kids. All clear!

Roger that! Atttttaaaaaack!

The first light of dawn saw Ungod being kicked and punched by a bunch of kids.


 

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Have some peanuts

Germie strolled towards the Root of the Matter inn. Just another Wednesday evening, wasted at the local pub. Nothing more. Can life top this? Germie put off the dying cigarette and climbed the stairs.

The inn was busy, with Lintara serving drinks to various customers and Shemhazaj lending a hand. Germie took a seat at some place closer to the window, where smoking was allowed. He scanned the room and found it pretty crowded. When it's crowded, the obnoxious customers start arguments. And, sure enough, one started soon.

I've never seen any peanuts in the realm, said Ungod.

Shemhazaj was serving peanuts.

I think I spotted some plants nearby, said Lintara.

I got them in my travels, said Shemhazaj.

Your stories really don't match, replied Ungod. You know, I can't eat these. Uncertified origin - and I never have anything that is of unknown origin.

Err...they're good, you know? We have them every evening.

I know, said Ungod. I've eaten them before. But, now that I think about it, I shouldn't have. Something is wrong here. What if these ones are toxic?

The arguments was heating up. On the one side, the voice of the pub - reassuring, but uncaring. On the other, the voice of reason - on point, but unneeded.

I will not have them! I don't care, the most I've seen in your forest is oak, therefore you should serve acorns if you want me to trust you, was shouting Ungod.

……………….……………...…………………………………………………...………………………..

Lintara was shoving peanuts down Ungod's throat and some got stuck, so Ungod was turning purple. Germie found the taste of the beer to be odd today. It doesn't matter at all, but...there really aren't any peanuts in MagicDuel.

Edited by Ungod

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Alone:

 

Rikstar stood at the edge of the carnival, deep in thought.

'Truly, in this life you can only live for yourself. You are - and company is a sweet illusion - alone. Let someone close to you, you get betrayed. Those who you don't let die, later don't let you live. And if, if! you somehow think of helping someone, you realize nobody can take another's burden. Each on their road, in this life. Company is but a sweet illusion.'

A clown popped out in front of Rikstar. His eyes suddenly glowing with murderous rage, he lifted his hammer high and slammed it on Rikstar's head. It was a toy hammer, and the crowd was laughing. Rikstar took out a wooden bat, and calmly sent the clown flying over a tent. It was a wooden bat, and nobody was laughing.

'I don't need these clowns in my life. I enjoy laughing and laughing at someone's expense is what makes laughing laughing, but I don't enjoy laughing at myself. Who does?! So, yes, you are alone. If laughing at someone can make you closer to that someone because of the feelings of resentment from the other, you try to laugh. Laugh at the poor souls, maybe you'll feel something, something to cling on to, to forget that you are alone...'.

Excuse me! Sir? Sir!

Rikstar found himself in front of two carnival officers, who were trying to get his attention.

Excuse me, sir, it has come to our attention that your monthly fee is overdue.

Rikstar grumbled.

You know, if members don't pay, there can be no carnival. Be reasonable, sir, all this glitter cannot maintain itself by itself. The enchanting bright lights, the alluring colours - all need your money.

'I say to you - it is truly an ugly world, where if people could take your skin, they'd do it, without second thoughts. From taxes and fools you will never get away. Try to live quietly, they will find you. Be alone at the summit of the mountain they will find you. In fact, even if you do not want to be alone, they make you want it.'

A young lady in a fancy red dress passed by Rikstar. Her smile and delicate scent made Rik forget himself for a moment.

'Truly, in this life you can only live for yourself. You are, always were and will be, alone. And tonight, as usual, company is a sweet illusion'.

He turned around.

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