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Sunday, May 7th, 2006
6:54 pm - Calibre
Wagner wiped the blood from his nose with his thumb, leaving a red smear across his silver-white moustache. "Do you accept, Callum, that in this world there are forces beyond the power of mortal man? That the infinite stretches in many directions that cannot be perceived, and among the myriad of worlds that this universe holds, there are terrors and dangers beyond all comprehension? That the fragile institution of man is nothing but dust in their eyes? Do you accept that these forces are real?"

"Of course, sir," said Cal, giving a cocky grin. "I'm one of them."

"There are gods in the world, Callum," replied Wagner sternly, pointing a weathered finger accusingly at Cal. "They have powers that defy even our understanding, the ability to make or unmake anything they wish and host to inscrutable desires. What would you do if you had to confront a god, with nothing but the guns in your hands and the charms burnt into your soul?"

"I'd beat the shit out of it," said Cal. "Sir."

"And what, Callum, if your habitual recklessness led you to confronting me? What would your course of action be, facing down this old man?" Wagner's eyes were steel, his face locked in an expression of focus. Cal met his gaze, pushing his glasses back up his nose with a forefinger.

"Ah, sir," he said after a moment's silence. "I may have balls, but I'm not stupid."

"You're Goddamn right about that, you son of a bitch," muttered Wagner, his expression twisting into a smile. "Congratulations, you've passed. Now get the Hell out of my sight."

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Wednesday, March 8th, 2006
8:09 pm - Original fiction for a university assignment.
Leroy Sasch lounged like a tiger, sprawled out in the armchair as if he owned it and the world around it. He was a large man, his chin wide and his neck thick, his hands even bigger than they should have been despite his ample frame. Lines and wrinkles ran across his face, but more of the former than the latter – though old, he was not ancient yet. Sandy blond hair fading to silver-grey testified to that. Beneath two slim eyebrows a pair of green eyes glittered in the firelight, between them a Roman nose made crooked through some old injury. A presence of stubble on his lower face revealed that he'd been busy for some time, as the man was fastiduously tidy in regards to his appearance. As usual, though, he wore a plain black suit with unbuttoned jacket and no tie.

“Leroy,” I said, sitting down in the armchair opposite. I poured a brandy and wordlessly offered him the same as I always do. As he always did, he refused with a smile and a wave of his hand. “What brings you so far away from your usual hunting grounds? Not any kind trouble, I hope, much less the kind you always seem to drag me into."

“Ah, Helen, I'm sorry to say it is business of such a sort,” he said with a sigh and a smile. “Much as it pains me to maltreat my promise to your dear father by pushing you into these situations time and again, I'm afraid that this simply needs your delicate touch.”
I paused for a moment, the brandy slowly moving around as I gently twirled the stem of the glass. “No is never an answer, is it? I must confess to have tired of the quiet life – at least for the moment. Enlighten me, Leroy.”

“I'm sure you remember our old friend Nikolai,” he began grimly. Nikolai was not an old friend, being a sinister and malevolent practicioner of the dark arts, but Leroy referred to all our foes as 'old friends' in his peculiar manner. “I have it on good authority that he is alive, despite what we saw or thought we saw, and working steadily to achieve his goal. That, of course, being nothing short of your death and mine.”

“On whose authority do you go by, Leroy?” I asked. This was not a subject I took lightly, having lost too much in past encounters with Nikolai.

“Dantalion,” he replied. “He is to be trusted, at least in this instance. Nikolai betrayed him not too long ago, after all.”

“Before Dantalion could first betray him, you mean?” Dantalion was a worm and a snake, a vicious little vermin who existed only to further his own pathetic means.

“Of course. He is Dantalion, after all.” Leroy reached into his jacket and pulled out a pocketwatch, squinting at it through one eye like he always did. Satisfied, he placed it back and reached into the other pocket of his jacket, pulling out a sleek and deadly Browning 9 millimeter semiautomatic pistol. “Five o' clock and fifteen minutes past. If Dantalion is right, we best prepare ourselves for the otherwise unexpected.”

I opened the old cigar case that sat collecting dust on the mantlepiece and pulled out a Walther P99. It was at that point that the large bay window on the far wall smashed, on account of a half-ton robot being fired through it from a high-velocity launching cannon attached to a dirigible.

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Friday, October 29th, 2004
4:48 am - Mindwalkers
The poster was dark, mostly black, depicting a clean-shaven young man staring out. He was mostly in shadow, picked out in patriotic highlights of red and blue, a look of keen concentration on his face. Tommy read the caption aloud.
    "Uncle Sam needs your mind. Are you a mindwalker?" He chuckled and sighed. "I wish."
    "Buck up, Tom," I replied. "It's not all it's cracked up to be."
    "Oh, sure," he replied, punching me lightly on the arm. "Being able to read a dame's mind sure is humdrum."
    "It's not like that," I said, as we started walking again. We were heading down to the store to pick up some smokes. "You've got to know what to hold onto - a signal - otherwise you just get static. I can creep inside a Nazi's mind if he's thinking about what I'm thinking of, but women? Heck, no man alive knows what they're thinking about."
    He laughed at that, and I laughed too. It was true, though, I couldn't just read minds. There were plenty who could in the mindwalkers, the upper ranks. But they always seemed so withdrawn, so cold and empty, so drawn up in their work. Perhaps seeing inside the minds of others wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
    And, of course, there was the constant danger. The Nazi think-tanks, sending false information and migraines, concentrating their powers on disrupting ours. We weren't about to let it happen, though, not with the sheer psychic force we were mustering. It had already slowed the war in the East down to a crawl, and the Russkies were using it to make their front even more miserable then it had been.
    I remember first seeing Pennworth, the sombre-faced Brit with his receding hair line and palid complexion, on the newsreels, pointing to locations on a map with thin, precise fingers. I met him a year later, after the formation of the Mind Corps, giving a talk on what he had learned.
    Of course, there had been that one who ignored him, the brash and impatient man from Georgia who thought he knew more than a middle-aged Brit. Pennworth had just stared into his eyes for a moment and whispered a couple of words, and that was that. A good enough practical demonstration, though the guy couldn't speak to anyone for a week. Not a major loss, if you ask anyone.
    Something was brewing, though, as of late. The think-tanks were hurting harder, the Russkies reported breaks in their line and even the BBC news seemed to be grasping at straws when it came to success. The Nazis were definitely cooking something up, and I never would have thought I'd end up involved in it as deep as I would be.

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Wednesday, October 27th, 2004
9:26 pm - Harry Potter and the Dark Lord's Ring - Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Harry threw his arms up into the air and groaned. "This is getting [expletive deleted] ridiculous! A [expletive deleted] twin sister! Who's a [expletive deleted] robot! From the future!"
    "The [expletive deleted] future," added Ron.
    "The [expletive deleted] future!" Harry shouted. "How can she be my [expletive deleted] twin when she's a [expletive deleted] robot from the [expletive deleted] future!"
    "Well, it might be [expletive deleted] magic, you pair of [expletive deleted] idiots," said Hermione. She turned to the robot twin. "Is it?"
    "No," came the reply.
    "Well, [expletive deleted]," said Hermione.
    "You may well indeed remember the first Sue," said the robot twin. "As time increased, so did the forces of Sue. Each Sue is the creation of diabolical little girls from an alternate dimension. As their population increases, so does the force of Sue. In twenty years the world will be overrun by half-elf unicorn Animagus. With sparkly hair."
    "Wait, little girls?" Ron asked.
    "That's [expletive deleted] up," said Harry.
    "Do you have a name... er... girl?" Boromir asked. "And may I ask, what is a [expletive deleted] robot?"
    "My designation is Sandra Potter," said the robot twin. "And to answer your second question, a [expletive deleted] robot is a [expletive deleted] form of [expletive deleted] artificial life, comprised mainly of [expletive deleted] steel, [expletive deleted] plastic and [expletive deleted] circuit boards."
    "[expletive deleted] me," replied Boromir. "What does all that mean?"
    "I look like a real person but I am not - I am a fabrication, a cheap imitation, a pale copy of what real human life is..."
    "Oh, don't say that," said Hermione. "I'm sure that we, I mean that is, you-"
    "What real human life is," continued Sandra, "is a mess. A horrible, disgusting mess from start to finish, full of foul-smelling liquids and filthy meat. Life is pain, Hermione. Anyone who says different is selling something."
    "Ah," said Ron. "Nothing like a cheerful new friend."
    "She's nothing like a cheerful new friend," replied Harry.
    "I know."

    "We must move quickly," said Sandra, leading the intrepid group through the dark midnight corridors of Hogwarts.
    "What the [expletive deleted]? It was lunchtime a couple of hours ago," said Ron. "Why's it the middle of the night?"
    "Shush," replied Sandra. "We must be cautious, for the forces of Sue will not rest until they find Harry."
    "What do they want with me?" Harry whispered. Sandra stopped and whispered something in his ear. His face went white and creased up in nausea. Sandra nodded sadly and continued moving.
    "What did she say?" Ron asked quietly, after a moment's quiet.
    "You do not want to [expletive deleted] know," mumbled Harry.
    Suddenly, a tall dark shadow loomed out in front of them. It was the tall and forbidding form of Severus Ricksnape, pointing a glowing wand directly at Sandra.
    "What are you doing out of your beds?" Snape mumbled accusingly, jabbing his wand for emphasis. Sandra Potter stared at him for a moment, before two lasers shot out from her eyes and liquidated his head.
    "[expletive deleted], Harry, your robot sister's [expletive deleted] dangerous."
    Stepping around, over, or - in Sandra's case - on the smouldering remains of Severus Rickman, the four children and one large, hairy man continued to creep most stealthily.
    "Wait," said Sandra, holding up a hand and causing the rest to stumble to a halt. "I'm detecting Sues."
    "Where?" Ron asked, gripping his wand.
    "Thirty metres."
    "I don't see anything," said Boromir, peering into the darkness.
    "Twenty metres."
    "Lumos!" Hermione and Harry said, and pointed their wands down the corridor. Nothing but shadows and old suits of armour.
    "Ten metres. Five metres."
    "That can't be right! They should be right next to us by now!"
    A massive fist erupted from the wall by Harry, who only just managed to avoid getting hit by it. Boromir held up his arm to shield himself from the flying rubble, pushing Hermione behind him to keep her safe.
    "They're coming out of the walls! They're coming out of the [expletive deleted] walls! We're [expletive deleted]!" Ron flinched this way and that, looking for a place to turn, then turned full circle and charged straight into a wall. "There'f a wall shere."
    "Thanks, Ron," sighed Harry, and pointed his wand at the apparition emerging from the newly-formed hole in the wall. Two huge, burly arms tore the remaining bricks from their mortar and a dire form emerged into the wandlight. He, for Harry was sure it was a man, was over six feet tall, built like a troll and looked home to more testosterone than was physically possible. However, he wore a frilly pink dress, and on his head was a curly blonde wig.
    "Haarry Pottaaah," the huge, gender-confused man said in an Austrian drawl. "I am here for you, you weak little GUHRLY-MAN!"
    "This is a Suebot 3000, from the far future! It must have followed me back!" Sandra fired a couple of laser eye-beams at it, but they did nothing but scorch the dress. "Run!"
    "What about you?" Hermione said, even as Boromir tried to drag her away. "We can't leave you!"
    "Yes, we [expletive deleted] can," said Ron, scurrying ahead as fast as he could. "She's just a robot!"
    "I'll be fine," replied Sandra, blocking blow after blow from the titanic Suebot.
    "No you won't!"
    "You're right, I won't. But recognise a [expletive deleted] nice gesture when you see one, meatbag, and [expletive deleted] run!"
    Sandra's green eyes lit up red again, the twin lasers blasting at full power. The pink frilly dress began to smoke and then burst into flame, but the Suebot continued moving onwards.
    "Come on, Hermione!" Harry started to run as well. "I don't want to leave her either, but think about what'll happen if we don't run!"
    "Yeah, that dress'll burn away and he'll be naked," said Ron. There was a long silence, marred only by laser blasts and curses in Austrian.
    "Run. For [expletive deleted]'s sake, run." Boromir said. They ran.

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Monday, October 18th, 2004
10:00 pm - To Do
  • NaNoWriMo story, from Nov. 1st to Nov. 30th.

  • Various short stories half-finished.

  • The Fishkin Guides:

    • How to Write... Science Fantasy

    • How to Write... Fairypunk

    • How to Write... Electronecro

    • A Brief Introduction to... the Punks

    • A Brief Introduction to... Fusion

    • A Brief Introduction to... Reconceptions

  • Kingsword script.

  • Transarcane neoscript.

More to come, in all probability. I've got my hands full for quite a while.

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Saturday, June 26th, 2004
8:41 pm - Mock mocky mock mock goth gothy goth goth
    It was never my choice to become a vampire. Sure, I'd entered the lucky dip, but no one ever expects to win those things.

    One night I had met a woman, who swiftly became a beautiful woman after a couple of pints. I just looked at her once, twice at most, and her beauty entranced me like a stage hypnotist. Her red lips were all I had been looking for - lips that were red and not a man's. Her perfect form was dressed with what I first suspected to be spraypaint, but which were actually some kind of jeans. She wore a leather shirt that was on so tight she might as well have been a cow herself. Her smooth, dark, black hair went all the way down her back to her rear, and there was even some on her head.

    She sat down at the bar and I under a table nearby. I looked at her and she would take glances back at me with those amazing blue eyes while, giving a pearly white smile my way. She was so beautiful. She seemed to glow and just stick out in the crowd like a sore thumb, or a clown on fire. I slowly got up, steadying myself on the clothes of a passer-by and throwing up on him in thanks, and walked her way, all the while keeping my eyes fixated on her so I wouldn't fall over. When I came near her she got up. Thinking that she was about to leave I followed, prepared to go all the way to her house if I needed. She kept looking back at me, smiling all the while, as if I were a cute puppy and not an inebriated stalker. She stepped out the building into a quaint alley, one I had spent many a night in, where talking could be faintly heard. I stepped out of the door, swinging it wide open and there she was, scratching her nose.

    I walked up to her and she responded, "Hi. Come here often?"
    Obviously she knew of my nefarious night-time habits. Time for a quick change of subject. Looking at her I responded, "My victi... lady, I must know your name!"
    She looked at me and our eyes met and interlocked, much like Voltron. She then responded, "My name is Gothess. What's yours, sir knight?"
    Looking at her I wondered how had she known that I was a LARPer. Then I looked down seeing that my euphamism was sticking out. Also my pants were down around my ankles and I have a ribbon tied around it. I looked back up and, attempting something like dignity, responded, "The name is Sir Gothington, my lady."
    She responded saying, "Gothington... Hmm, an interesting name, but please do not call me Gothess, not my lady."
    "Say what?" I responded.
    She looked at me smiling and I just had to kiss her, or throw up, whichever came first. Then, without another rational thought, I lunged for her lips and kissed her. Quite surprisingly she did not throw up like all the others, so it was quite distressing when I did. We then got up and I quickly responded, "I am sorry. I...um... I have problems."
    She put her finger to my lips, and then she sat on me. Christ, was she heavy. She bent down to my nose and kissed it. She went to my ear and then she asked me (in response), "Do you want to be with me forever?"
    Without even thinking I responded, "Can I ask the audience?"
    Then I felt the warmth of breath on my skin. I smiled slightly because it tickled. Then I felt a sudden surge of pain and threw up again. She rose from my neck, covered in chunks of carrot and corn.
"I don't remember eating that," I responded.
    She looked at me as I was suffering from a rather unpleasant bowel movement and responded, "Quickly, drink my blood before you die."
    She bit her wrist and let it bleed onto my lips. I began to wonder what kind of a night this would turn out to be if she was into crazy-ass shit like this. As the 2% proof blood dribbled into my mouth and down the back of my throat, I felt a warm sensation in the depths of my body. I had crapped my pants. Wonderful.

    When I woke up she looked at me happily and responded, "Hey, how are you doing?" like it was something normal to crap oneself while someone poured blood in your mouth. She gave me a look, gift-wrapped, and then understood that I was in confusion. "You are one of us now. You are a Vampire!"
    "No!" I cried out in response. "I only LARP Werewolf!"
    "You are a ruler of the night," she responded as she lowered herself to my level, in more ways than one. She walked up to my bed and sat down on the nearest clean spot. She moved to kiss me, but the smell overwhelmed her and she backed off..
    "Oh, and Gothington, don't believe all you hear about Vampire LARPers. We can still have a little fun," she whispered in response as she reached down under the bed to fetch her rulebook. From that day on nothing was the same, apart from the nights drinking, LARPing and... well, almost everything, really.
    Everyone had thought my social life dead and, in a way, it was.

Part 2 when I come back!

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Wednesday, June 2nd, 2004
11:43 pm

Can I write a poet-tree?
A plant that means so much to me.
Leaves of verse and roots of rhyme,
'cept growing it takes too much time.
Water it with your inspiration
Add just a bit of perspiration
And perhaps some actual precipitation
To upkeep the organic metaphor.

I can write a poet-tree.
I know I can, just wait and see.
Shady rest for me to think
Of lines and rhymes that do not stink.
Once the poet-tree is seeded
Attention is what is most needed
And all spare time will be ceded
To help it grow into something more.

And this is my poet-tree.
Tall and sturdy, grown by me.
Something green and literary -
A masterpiece of topiary.
For growing things when you write
Requires water, requires light
And a monumental pile of shite
But it produces something that all adore.

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Saturday, May 8th, 2004
9:15 pm - Advert #1: Atomz

A group of bored-looking children sit around, bored and looking. Suddenly one of them lights up with an idea and reaches under the coffee table and brings out a shoebox. They open it up and tip out a load of sand onto the table. The other children go nuts with excitement.

ATOMZ! (with reverb) It's the latest, greatest,
kerraziest construction system! Get together with
your friends and put together ANYTHING (reverb)
you can think of!

Camera starts to cycle through shots of various small items, like pins, pebbles and so on, with the occasional hilarious big item, like a train, a house or a tree.

(reverb), you can rearrage the ATOMZ (reverb) to
make anything! Perhaps even some of the objects
shown here!


The children are now playing with an arrangement of toys, the mass of sand gone from the table. A brief caption says "ten minutes later" before vanishing.

(hurriedly) Parts not suitable for under fives. Actual
construction time differs from time shown. May
contain traces of nuts and uranium-238.

Fade to logo as Voiceover Guy finishes talking.

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9:07 pm - Advert #2: Calling-A-Loan-4-U

Sitting on a sofa directly in front of the camera is a man in horrible clothes and an off-centre mullet wig. A caption at the bottom of the screen informs the audience he is Mr. Hanwood, London. He stares blankly just past the camera, as if reading his lines from flashcards.

I was having trouble with getting a loan. I'd been
turned down in the past on account of bad credit
rating. So I turned to Calling-A-Loan-4-U.

The camera cuts to the same shot, the angle and distance adjusted to make it more of a jump, but the same man is sitting there, though in women's clothes and a blonde wig. The caption tells us this is Mrs. Estherhouse, Norwich.

I had some CCJs and a charge of arson. Calling-A-
Loan-4-U helped me get the money I needed before
the trial.


The same man who was in the previous two disguises is there in a flashy suit, walking past people typing on computers and answering phones. The caption reads Kyle Pettifogger, CEO of Calling-A-Loan-4-U.

Yes, all those non-actors and more have turned to
Calling-A-Loan-4-U for all their financial needs and
urges. With some of the competitively highest rates
around, you'll be sure that somebody's making a

He turns to look at one of the typists, a blonde with her head mostly hidden behind the computer monitor, and smiles. It cuts to a close up of the typist - it's the same guy, wearing a wig, in a shocking display of absurd paradox. Cut to logo with obviously fake phone number, then end.

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Sunday, March 21st, 2004
4:57 pm - Harry Potter and the Dark Lord's Ring - Chapter 5
Obligatory stupidity: me: um yeah hi lol
me: lo
Hary: loll

Chapter Five

There in the common room, waiting for them, were Harry and Ron. Boromir sighed, as there was no Frodo in sight. Hermione sat down heavily in one of the armchairs, letting out a long, shaky breath.
    "Couldn't find him," said Ron.
    "We looked everywhere," said Harry. "Well, almost everywhere."
    "Where didn't you look?" Boromir asked. Harry and Ron exchanged worried looks.
    "Slytherin," said Harry.
    "Yeah, [expletive deleted] Slytherin," added Ron.
    "Is this because of their evilness?"
    "No, all the goth Sues," said Harry, shivering. "Last time I went near one of them I caught angst."
    "Yeah," said Ron. "He missed a whole week of lessons! They had to keep him away from anything black for ages."

    Just then, the portrait swung open and in stepped a girl wearing some fashionable Muggle clothes that really didn't merit a lengthier description than that. In one hand was a miserable-looking owl that was a mixture of brown, white and purple, and in the other was a jewel-encrusted broomstick.
    "What. The. [expletive deleted]." Hermione said, staring at the Mary-Sue, for there was little else it could have been.
    "Hi, I'm Sapphire Serenity Andrealina Kailiana Serenity Fleur Serenity Serenityson," she said. "I'm a transfer student from the McWicca Institute of Magicery and Magic. That's in America. I'm sure I'll get on well with you Englanders, despite all Americans being prettier and smarter than you, lol."
    There was a long pause. "Did you just say lol?" Ron asked.
    "Sure! ;)" replied the Sue. There was a much longer pause.
    "How the [expletive deleted] did you just pronounce an emoticon?" Ron turned to Boromir and pointed to his sword, then to the Sue. "Stabby time."
    "Oh, you can't stab me, I'm immortal. See, there's this ancient prophecy that a Gryffindor will save the world because she's secretly a half-elf and then she meets this unicorn and grows up to marry Harry Potter."
    In the silence that followed, you could hear Harry's mind snapping. Boromir looked at the Sue, especially her ears, and shook his head.
    "I've seen plenty of half-elves, but you're no half-elf," he said, reaching for his sword.
    "Like Legolas? OMG leik Orlando is sooo cute!" The Sue squealed with joy, and Boromir reached for his sword a whole lot faster. He slashed and hacked, but the Sue's wounds healed up as soon as they happened.
    "They've adapted!" Ron yelled, and scrambled behind a chair. "We'll never be rid of them now!"
    The Sue smiled and started to advance upon Harry, who backed away twice as fast, unfortunately straight into a wall. There seemed no way out, until there was a flash of light between them. The Sue stumbled back, and in the middle of the light there was a shape that grew clearer. The light got too bright to bear, and everyone turned their heads away. There was a yell, a crack and the sound of glass breaking. When the glare died away, the Sue was gone, the window was broken, and where the Sue had been there was a different girl, adjusting the same trendy Muggle wear the Sue had been wearing. She looked up into the confused faces of Harry, Ron, Hermione and Boromir.
    "Okay, what the [expletive deleted] is going on?" Ron cried out, throwing his hands up in the air. The girl pulled out a pair of glasses from the pocket of her shirt, put them on and peered at Ron.
    "Ah, you're Ron," she said. She had dark, untidy hair that came down to her neck, and bottle-green eyes. Suddenly, Harry got a horrible sinking feeling.
    "Let me guess," he said wearily, "you're my long lost twin sister, here to fulfil another [expletive deleted] prophecy."
    "In a way," said the twin-Sue, sharply. "I am your robotic twin sister, sent from the future to protect you from the forces of Sue."
    "What. The. [expletive deleted]." Hermione said, again.

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Friday, March 12th, 2004
11:33 am - Harry Potter and the Dark Lord's Ring - Chapter 4
Obligatory stupidity: LOL I WATCHED EVA SHINJI IS SOOO GENKI ^______________~
this chaptrer is a songfic chapter acoz i wuz listining to music wen i wrote it!!

Chapter Four

"So," began Boromir, but the sentence just trailed away into nothing. Hermione gave a little sigh and shook her head.
    "Listen, beard-for-brains, I'm not exactly enthralled about this either, but this is a Sue, and we have to follow the horrifying rules, no matter how horrifying they might be?"
    "How horrifying are they?" Boromir asked.
    "Oh, very," replied Hermione, nodding for emphasis. Boromir groaned.
    "All right, all right... Now, what exactly does one do in this 'making-over'?"
    "Well, all the Sues in the past have given me Muggle clothes, or makeup and jewelry that's not allowed in the school," Hermione said, looking thoughtful. "Pretty much nothing I could actually wear in school... or that I'd want to."
    Boromir rubbed his beard between forefinger and thumb, then reached to his belt and pulled out a dagger. "There you go," he said. "Will that do?"
    Hermione stared at the sharp implement of blood-inducing stabness. "I'm pretty sure that I'm not allowed this," she mumbled.
    "I have a [expletive deleted] sword, which is certainly more dangerous. Besides, no one else gave you anything you were allowed," Boromir reminded her. Hermione frowned for a moment and then took the dagger.
    "All right, now... I think we should go spy on Sauron. See what he's up to."

    The DADA room was in some random part of the castle that no proper Mary-Sue author could be bothered to not make up. Lurking outside the door, like a pair of mentally deranged *Nsync fans outside a concert, were Boromir and Hermione.
    "Now, above everything, we have to be quiet," whispered Boromir, looking through the small gap between door and doorframe as carefully as he could. "The Eye of Sauron sees all and zaps all with crazy [expletive deleted] death-beams."
    Hermione nodded and looked round as well. The giant floating eye, wreathed in flames and bowler hat, was hovering in front of a class of third-year Slytherins.
    "Now, rings of power are useful trinkets. You can make a ring which seems totally harmless, and give it to someone you dislike, and then make a better, faster ring of power that controls it. Quicker than you can speak in the tongue of Mordor, they're wraiths under your control. Nifty, eh?"
    "He's teaching them the ways of evil!" Boromir hissed, starting to move forward. Hermione grabbed his tunic and shook her head.
    "Relax, they're all angsty goth-Sues. They're just there to wear black and complain." Looking back inside, Boromir saw that she was right - it was a group of depressed-looking girls wearing black makeup and writing bad poetry, barely paying attention to Sauron at all.
    "HI!" Boromir and Hermione froze at the sound of the overly-loud salutation from behind them. They turned, and saw a girl in a long, flowing white dress decked in sequins, and pointy ears. "I'm Serenity Moonstar Ravenfeather Wolfclaw Moosehorn Rickman, kawaii! I'm half-elf, and a weather-mage who can do wandless magic, and read minds. Plus I'm a super-mega-hyper-Animagus-zord who can turn into eight types of unicorn - and a robot! Oh, and I'm one of Snape's triplet daughters. Desu?"
    "[expletive deleted]," said Hermione, looking back over her shoulder to see Sauron emerge from the DADA classroom.
    "Hey, hey, hey," he said, tipping his bowler hat. "It's Fat Sauron! I mean, prepare to die... again."
    Thinking quickly, Boromir grabbed Serenity by her ears and threw her at Sauron. The eye recoiled back, the flames writhing violently. "The ramen! THE RAMEN! It burns!"
    He screamed in noodle-induced agony, and Boromir and Hermione ran back toward the Gryffindor common room.

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Thursday, February 19th, 2004
7:02 pm - It's the Drawing Contest!
Except that no one wins anything actually tangible! Think of it more of a... um... thing where you draw.

Yeah, that's the ticket.

Option 1Collapse )
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There's yer contest, 'Arry. I might even draw something myself.

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Monday, December 29th, 2003
8:02 am - A Fairly Tale, Part the 1
Why don't you sit down, shut up, and let me tell you a story? No? Nurse, the restraints!

Are you being restrained comfortably? Then I'll begin, and there's nothing you can do about it...

A Fairly Tale
or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb

Part the 1

It was a bright morning, so bright that it could do algebra and speak in German. The sun was shining as if it was going to explode, which it didn't, thank fuck for that. The morning dew was so thick and heavy 'pon the ground that it caused floods, wiping out several species of woodland creature. It was beautiful, picturesque and belying the horrible... horror that was to come.
    From across the hills came a horrible horror, wearing a horrible hat and horrible socks and not much else, but what little else it wore, oh was it ever horrible. At the mere sight of the horrible plume atop its horrible hat, a bluebird flew in circles until it got jet lag. At the tiniest whiff of the horrible stench from its horrible socks, a rabbit went cross-eyed until it hurt. At the horrible sound of its voice (also horrible), a fox had all its legs spontaneously drop off. Oh, was it ever horrible, a most horrible horror that never before had been seen in such a place.
    Now, this horrible horror wished it was not so horrible, as you would if you went around looking like it did. I mean, talk about ugly. Every day it wished that it was marginally less horrible, so it would not be shunned or persecuted for being over the legal limit of horror. Now, every day before this day it had wished in vain, the stupid horror, but today was unlike all the other days ever put together. By some incredible cliché, today was a day when wishes came true.
    So narrated, a pleasant and plump fairy godmother with a wish-granting disposition popped out of thin air with sparkles copyrighted by the Walt Disney Corporation. It turned to the horror and spoke.
    "Fear not, your wish shall be OH DEAR GOD WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" And so saying, the fairy godmother performed seppuku and impaled herself on her wand, dying in a way not copyrighted by the Walt Disney Corporation, with plenty of blood.
    "Fuck me," said the horror in an uncouth manner. Luckily, such an oath attracted the attention of a rare creature that was both forest-dwelling and forest-hating. It lived in the forest, but didn't like it. Not one bit.
    This peculiar creature bounded up to the horrible horror in bounds, and screeched to a halt in front of it. It look the horror up, up, up, down and relaaaax. Finally it spoke, in that strange language known by all animals - French.
    "Bugger me," it said, in French. "You look horrible."
    "I know," moaned the horror.
    "I mean, wowee, really fucking horrible."
    "I know," moaned the horror.
    "Like, if you fell out of the Ugly Tree and hit every branch with your face and then landed on the Ugly Rock face-first and then were attacked by Ugly Squirrels who went right for your freaking face oh the HUMANITY - that's about a millionth as horrible as you look."
    "I know," moaned the horror. "Now stop rubbing it in, you sadistic little bastard."
    "Oh, but I simply must," said the creature. It paused and put its head to one side. Then the other. "What are you, some kind of horrible horror?"
    "Why, yes," said the horror. "That's exactly what I am. I am Horace Horror, the Horrible Horror of Horrorton."
    "What's in Horrorton?"
    "Horror, mostly," said Horace, adjusting his horrible hat to a jauntier, more horrible angle. "What are you, some kind of sadistic little bastard?"
    "As convenient as that would be," said the creature, "yes. I am the legendary, fabled, mythological beast, impervious to pain, sanity, horror and influenza, the creature known throughout the world as... That Little Bastard. But you can call me just Bastard. Or Taxi."
    "Taxi?" Horace said, and so saying a taxi pulled up right beside them, the tyres squealing incomprehensibly on the grass and daisies, maiming many an insect and small mammal.
    "Where to OH GOD YOUR FACE BURNS MY EYES!" said the taxi driver jovially, or at least jovially up until the point where he began to claw his eyes out. Horace the horror looked as dejected as best a horror could - horribly.
    "Nevermind," said Bastard. "I'm pretty sure he was going to be the next Hitler."
    Horace looked Bastard up and down. The funny thing resembled a black cat in appearance, a raving lunatic in dress and a wet dog in smell. It wore a pair of goggles, an undone straight-jacket and a single boot, with which it hopped around at the speed of something rather fast.
    "Are you a boy or a girl?" Horace asked.
    "Yes," said Bastard. There was a long silence, punctuated only by the frequent breaking of wind from both parties.
    "What now?" Horace said eventually. Bastard looked from the horror to the taxi, from the taxi to the horror, from the horror to the knee bone, from the knee bone to the thigh bone, and discovered anatomy.
    "Road trip?" Bastard suggested, and Horace nodded. This, he thought, could be the beginning of a horrible friendship. Bastard was too busy sniffing its behind to pay attention to the soppy (and horrible) smile that spread across Horaces face like Hitler's armies across that place.
    "Er... Can you drive?" Horace asked.
    "Can you?"

End of Part the 1

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Sunday, December 14th, 2003
6:34 pm - Harry Potter and the Dark Lord's Ring - Chapter 3
Obligatory stupidity: um yeah leik thx 2 kawaiienchantress23@hotmaile.com 4 helping me with this chapter it is so gr7!!!

Chapter Three

Boromir pulled himself up, still more than slightly winded by the crazy death-beam attack. Harry, Ron and Hermione ran past the Mary-Sue to help him.
    "Hey, Boromir, are you okay?" Harry asked. Boromir nodded and then wished he hadn't.
    "I'll be... [expletive deleted]... all right. It'll be a rare day indeed when a death-beam can kill me." Boromir struggled upright and wiped a little blood from his nose.
    "Isn't much good as a death-beam, then, is it?" Ron muttered.
    "I've survived a, uh, 'death-beam' before, Ron," said Harry. Ron grumbled, but didn't say anything.
    "I think this kinda proves Sauron is evil," said Hermione. "Besides the fact that Boromir tried to attack him first, I'm pretty sure only evil people can shoot death-beams and wear bowler hats."
    "I wonder what he's doing here at Dogwarps," mused Boromir.
    "Hogwarts," sighed Hermione, "and we can only guess. Maybe he's looking for someone..."
    "Or something!" Boromir cried out. "The ring! He's looking for the ring here! The ringbearer must be around here somewhere."
    Boromir glanced around the Great Hall and turned back to Harry, Hermione and Ron.
    "Have you seen Frodo? He's got hairy feet and would look like a small child to... oh." Boromir's hand dropped limply to his side. "Like a needle in a [expletive deleted] haystack."
    "Excuse me," said a voice behind them, "but I can't understand why you'd talk to that creepy bearded man when you could be talking to me!"
    The four turned and saw Destiny Angela Sapphire Hitler pouting, looking oh-so sickeningly adorable in her non-school-uniform clothes.
    "Go [expletive deleted] your [expletive deleted] and die," said Harry. Destiny Angela Sapphire Hitler shook out her absolutely wonderful perfect gorgeous hair and blinked her psychedelic eyes at him.
    "That's not right, you're Harry Potter. You and Draco are supposed to be madly in love with me and then I give Hermione a makeover," she said airily, before a cake hit her in the back of the head. She turned and saw Draco signal to Goyle to throw the second piece, which he did, and which hit Destiny Angela Sapphire Hitler square in the face.
    "Well, you freakish children," said Boromir, "I think we should split up and search for the ringbearer, Frodo."
    "This cake will ruin my glittery eyeliner!" Destiny Angela Sapphire Hitler wailed. Boromir drew his sword and, grasping it firmly in both hands, sliced Destiny Angela Sapphire Hitler's head off.
    "Like, totally ow," said Destiny Angela Sapphire Hitler, and promptly died.
    "Boromir, son of Denethor: Maimer of Mary-Sues," said Ron happily.
    "Maimer?" Harry asked incredulously. "He whacked her [expletive deleted] head off!"
    "Yeah, but you know that they come back like zombies," said Ron. Hermione gave a prim little cough and Boromir, Harry and Ron turned to look at her.
    "Now, I read in Shutting Up: A History that you lot should really shut the [expletive deleted] up and we should get finding this Frodome."
    "Frodo," corrected Boromir.
    "Whatever," said Hermione. "Since, for some reason, lessons seem to be arranged for our convenience, we'll have plenty of time to search."
    "But it's chapter three," said Harry.
    "Boromir here owes you a makeover," said Ron, laughing. Boromir and Hermione looked at each other with the same expression of mutual dread.
    "[expletive deleted] no," they said in unison.
    "It's part of the rules, you said so yourself," said Harry. "Tell you what, Ron'll take the west side, I'll take the east side, and if we spot someone with overly-hairy feet we'll let you know."
    "Unless they're Crabbe or Goyle," added Ron.
    "Oh, all right, but only because it's part of the rules," said Hermione grumpily. She grabbed Boromir by the wrist and started to drag him in the direction of the Gryffindor's common room. "Come on, beardy."
    Harry and Ron watched them go. "I should have asked him to stab Malfoy in the face before he left," sighed Harry. Ron shrugged and booted the severed head of Destiny Angela Sapphire Hitler across the Great Hall.

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Friday, December 12th, 2003
8:27 pm - Toki's Tale - Chapter 24
Through darkness Ktrano climbed, out of the earth until he reached sunlight. The air was warm, but cooled quickly in the presence of the icy giant. The ground froze beneath his fingers and feet as he lifted himself up, the smaller plants withering and dying from the frost.
    "I can smell them," said Ktrano, turning his head to the right. His voice didn't seem as imposing as before, but then again they were outside now. Toki sat on his hand, her robes doing a poor job of keeping her warm, but not complaining.
    Serail had told her to tell Ktrano to take her to Taelan Bay, so she could get to safety, but she still felt she could help - that she had to help.
    Ktrano had not yet moved, instead just sniffing the air again. Toki felt a shadow pass over her, and looked up to see the skies were clouding over.
    "Chaos?" she asked. Ktrano shook his head.
    "Not the Chaos... something else."
    Toki wondered if it was Tae'Pan, but soon she realised who it was when the clouds began to spiral, turning into a tornado that stretched down to the ground. There was a thunderclap and lightning seared the sky, blinding Toki for a moment. When her eyes cleared, a Ktrano-sized Seraf was standing next to them. Well, "standing" was relative, as his lower body was still a tornado, tearing up the smaller trees and whirling them around.
    "Child," he said, pointing a finger at Toki. "My son has ordered you to Taelan Bay."
    Toki stood up uncertainly and nodded.
    "My son is an idiot," said Seraf. "The whole point that you are here is because you have... potential. To be blunt, it is a potential I wish to exploit."
    "What makes you think I'll be your puppet?" Toki said, shouting over the howling wind. Seraf held her stare with impassive, bored eyes.
    "I will not argue with you while the Godslayer is here," he said eventually, "but you should find that our purposes intertwine nicely. You thirst for vengeance, bloody and brutal, and I can give you the chance to enact that vengeance."
    "Against your own brother's pet?"
    "You are an orphan, Toki Alamanae," replied Seraf, a slight smile to his face. A shrub pitched itself out of the vortex below his waist and shot over Toki's head. "Maki's pets are always... dispensable.
    "You may have my power to summon when you see fit, child. I am sure you can someday find a way to put it to good use. I believe you hold Fai's allegiance also... you would do well to duel again when you return Westward, to gain strength."
    Toki was silent for a little while, staring up at the giant storm god. "Why are you doing this?"
    "As I said, you hold potential. I will say no further on the matter. Go study with the Prophets, they will have the answers you seek. Whether or not they will reveal them... time will tell."
    With another thunderclap, Seraf was gone, the dust and wreckage from his whirling presence falling to the ground.
    "To battle?" Ktrano asked, speaking for the first time since Seraf had arrived. Toki sighed and nodded, gripping the handle of Martichoras firmly. She didn't feel so eager to rush in now, for some reason. But if she and Ktrano didn't step in now, it would be a massacre.
    "To battle."
    "All right!"
    "Shut up, Martichoras."

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Wednesday, December 10th, 2003
7:58 pm - Toki's Tale - Chapter 23
The light vanished, taking Tae'Pan's face with it, but his voice remained for a brief moment.
    "Not the death I would have liked, but you can stumble here in the darkness, blind forever more, while Barakura follows my orders and wipes away those miserable Assassins."
    Toki lashed out at the voice and fell, tumbling forwards and into a large gash in the floor. She tumbled down the chasm, cool air rushing around her, and she only just opened her wings in time, landing heavily on the floor, but cushioned from a harder blow.
    "Hello?" Toki shouted out, but only her own voice replied. She had been told that this labyrinth was large by the other Assassins, but she'd never thought it could be this big... or this dark.
    She sat in the freezing darkness for a while, hugging her knees against her chin and staring into inky blackness. Strange noises worried her, especially because she was naturally good at seeing in the dark. But there seemed to be no light here, not even the faintest glimmer for her eyes to use.
    The scampering noises drew closer, sounding like a dozen people tiptoeing very fast in different directions. Toki's hearing was still very good, though, and she heard every noise.
    "Foolish creature, stumbling into our realm," breathed the thing as it drew close enough. Toki's arm snapped out, grabbed it by the neck and flung it as hard as she could. After a few moments there was a dull smack and the sound of a large body rolling over the rough stone floor. Toki was getting very fed up.
    "I want light. Now - and slowly! Blinding me will just get me angrier!" Toki waited for a moment, wondering if she'd killed the only other thing down here. But faint light seeped into the cavern, with torches moving towards her.
    At first she assumed the torches were small, but as they grew nearer she realised that they were very large - and so was the cavern she was in. The creatures carrying the torches looked similar to Norns, but with two pairs of legs and two pairs of arms. They were easily twice Toki's height, and had three extra sets of small eyes on their foreheads. Each had an odd way of moving, keeping as many limbs as they could on the ground, like spiders. They were, in fact, quite a lot like spiders.
    "Who's in charge?" Toki demanded. One wordlessly extended an arm in the direction of a lump on the floor far away. "That means I'm in charge now, understand?"
    The spider-things nodded glumly. Toki looked around at the cavern, and the maze of holes and caves that seemed to lead out. She sighed.
    "Now... you will take me to Ktrano," she said firmly. The spider-things scampered backwards and shook their heads.
    "We dare not, we dare not! Your anger pales to the wrath of the great destroyer!"
    "You are taking me as far as I tell you to, because my anger is a whole lot closer to you right now," growled Toki. The spider-things moved further away and nodded again. They started to shuffle towards the far side of the cavern, with Toki keeping pace behind them.

    The tunnels this far down were bare rock, not at all like the neatly-built corridors near the surface. Whether or not they were natural or built by strange hands, Toki didn't care. She was angry, but not the white-hot rage she had experienced back in the jungle when she had transformed. This was a cold rage, a calculating anger that seemed to grow stronger with every passing second. She could feel it growing inside of her, filling her with strength and power. The spider-creatures could feel it too, shying from her despite being many times her size. The slightest movement from her would make then gasp and twitch, as if she was going to kill them.
    "As far as we dare go," mumbled one of the creatures, pointing a spindly finger attached to a spindly arm in the direction of a tunnel lit up with hot, red light. Toki turned to face him, and he started back a few paces. His shiny black eyes gleamed in the red light, showing the worry etched on his face.
    "Ktrano is just past here?"
    "Yes, but he is dangerous. Magic and strength, together as one... He is a destroyer of kingdoms, a slayer of Gods!"
    "I can take care of myself," said Toki, "I'm not afraid of him."
    "So you are not afraid of death," the creature said in his light, airy voice. It wasn't a statement, nor a question, just something in between. It jolted Toki back to the here and now.
    "Death is just a long sleep," replied Toki, repeating something she had heard a long time ago.
    "Death is another life," replied the spider. "A beginning, not an end. An existence of thought."
    "How would you know? How do you know?" Toki demanded, causing the spiders to skitter backwards. One pointed at the ground, at the hundreds of tiny glowing gems embedded in the walls and floor.
    "Down here is life for the dead," he muttered, and as he did shapes seemed to shimmer out of thin air, drifting wisps of mist seeping from the floor and taking form. Some were recognisable, like Norns and Ettins, but some were completely unidentifiable. They opened their mouths as if speaking, but with only hushed whispers coming out. They swayed closer to Toki, their pathetic shapes becoming terrifying by sheer number of blank-eyed stares.
    "Go away!" Toki blurted out, a shiver running through her body. The ghosts drifted back obediently, their eyes still fixed on Toki, who glanced at the nearest spider-thing.
    "What do they want from me?" she asked.
    "They are lost down here, stuck in the darkness, unable to find their way home to rest for ever after. After so long in the dark, they will look to anything to release them from their torment."
    Toki looked back to the stares of the ghosts, and saw the pleading in their eyes.
    "Do not feel sorry for them all," the spider-thing continued, "most are deserving of this fate, or else they would not have been cast down here."
    Toki turned to look at the spider-creature, gazing deep into his emotionless black eyes. "Most?"
    "Most," he replied simply. He pointed a jagged finger at the glowing tunnel. "The destroyer waits for you. I hope you are not... most."
    Toki gave one last look at the ghosts, who were now starting to fade and thin, spreading back into the low mist that they had drawn from, and set off down the tunnel.

    The tunnel led into a large chamber, one of deathly quiet compared to the echoes and whispers of the rest of the caverns. The heat here was searing, almost unbearable, and Toki dripped with sweat inside her robes. Half the floor of the chamber was gone, and the light and heat that surged up suggested it was molten rock. She mopped her brow and looked around for any sign of where Ktrano might reside, but there was no sign of him.
    "Ktrano!" Toki yelled out, and the name bounced off every rugged bump and ledge in the cavern. She walked over to a ledge overhanging the fiery pit and stood between two large stalagmites. The floor here had patterned tiles embedded into it, long since worn down to merge with the surrounding rock. Frayed and singed rope was strung from both pillars of rock, as if someone had been tied to them. Had Ktrano escaped?
    Toki frowned. If this so-called destroyer was as powerful as his reputation preceded, then why tie him up with rope?
    "Ktrano!" She yelled out again, and the echo seemed to be stronger this time, accompanied with a mighty rumble that shook small rocks down from the roof of the chamber. The rumble got louder and louder, reverberating and thundering in Toki's ears.
    "Who calls?" The voice was more like the scream of a thousand oceans, and Toki clamped her hands over her ears to try and dim the noise. The noise shook her, causing her to fall backwards, and she looked up at the most terrifying sight she had ever seen.
    The entire wall of the cavern seemed to have come alive, with two glowing blue eyes glaring at her from a dark, shadowy face that filled up her entire vision. She scrambled backwards and the face loomed closer until it was a few feet from her. They eyes shone with harsh blue light, each as large as a cathedral door.
    "Who calls?" The force of the noise and the rush of wind that came with it blew Toki backwards across the floor. The cavernous mouth from which the gale came spilled more blue light out into the chamber. Toki tried to get up, shielding herself with her hands and wings, tears coursing down her cheeks from the stinging air that whipped at her eyes. The head moved closer, but suddenly stopped and jerked back. It hung there for a moment before moving back further, and Toki could now see more of Ktrano.
    He was gigantic, as tall as the trees in the jungle, and had dark blue mottled skin. His arms were splayed out by his sides, and Toki, blinking back tears, saw the dull shine of tarnished metal. He was shackled by his wrists with manacles of titanic size, attached to huge chains that dug into the roof of the chamber.
    Toki felt a burst of courage at the sight of Ktrano's imprisonment, but it quickly changed to puzzlement when she saw the giant's head was slumped and his eyes now closed. Huge glowing tears fell into the abyss where he stood, hissing and turning to steam as they hit the red hot rocks below.
    "Ktrano?" Toki said, advancing cautiously. The weeping giant let out a long, shaky sigh.
    "I am sorry, little one," he mumbled, his voice still loud but no longer the roar it had been. "You spoke to me while I dreamed, and I..."
    He trailed off and another tear fell. Toki moved to where she had been standing before, between the two large stalagmites. She held onto one idly, watching the mighty destroyer cry.
    She gazed down into the abyss where he stood, and through the haze she saw he stood on a small area of rock, surrounded by a churning sea of magma.
    "I see you can stand the heat, little one," the giant said, and Toki looked up into his eyes. They were no longer fierce, but warm and gentle.
    "Yes, a bit," Toki replied hastily. She glanced down again, and then back up. "You can, I see."
    "No... I belong in the freezing cold," replied Ktrano. "This heat brings me unspeakable pain and suffering."
    "A punishment?"
    "I deserve it! Unspeakable horrors I wrought, such that I deserve more pain than this!" Ktrano cried mournfully, and slammed his hands against the rock behind him. There was a horrible hissing sound, and the giant's hands quivered as the hot rock burnt him.
    "No, stop! Stop!" Toki called out, though Ktrano ignored her. Finally he let go, and Toki glimpsed blackened flesh and bone before he curled his fingers to hide the wound.
    "I am a monster," he moaned. "Unfit to even die!"
    Toki watched the giant lean closer, his skin still shining his tears.
    "Why do you call me, little one?" he asked softly.
    "I... I was sent here, to find you," replied Toki.
    "I am to kill again," sighed Ktrano. "More lives for the destroyer to destroy, and more for the lover to mourn."
    Toki crept a little closer and laid a hand on his cheek. The skin was cold to the touch, and damp from the tears. She stroked him softly. "A lover?"
    "Once, once..." Ktrano sighed, cold air washing gently over Toki. "The only one I could ever love, my heart and soul, my destiny and fate, my joy... Taken from me by cruel, cruel misfortune!
    "There was an attack... a raid... in the confusion we lost each other... I found her, later, almost asleep... I held her in my arms and we whispered to each other... I held her in my arms and she died..." The last words were barely a whisper, so quiet Toki could only just hear them. He drew his head back and howled.
    "EVERYONE! Every last soul on that world I slaughtered with my bare hands. I was consumed! I travelled across the stars to bring death to the innocent! For ten years I wandered in a mad rage, tearing worlds and families apart!"
    Toki drew back as Ktrano lashed out his arms, struggling against his bonds, bringing a rain of colossal rocks down. He sagged down, his eyes only just level with the ledge where Toki stood, held up by his chains.
    "Millions, I killed," he sobbed, staring at Toki. "As many lives as there are stars in the sky. I remember each and every one of them, and I mourn them here."
    "But... but the other Assassins and those spider-creatures made you out to be some, some kind of great destroyer!"
    "I am," sighed Ktrano. Toki sighed as well, out of exasperation.
    "Listen," she said angrily. "Right now there is a horde of evil abominations that adore doing the things you did, and leading them is a... a... bastard who makes it his life to inflict pain and misery!"
    There was a long, long moment of silence, the only sound the hissing of the hot rocks. Finally Ktrano lifted his head and stared at Toki.
    "The... Chaos?" He said, eventually.
    "Yes, them!"
    Ktrano roared and pulled on his chains, icy fog spilling from his mouth. He wrenched one arm forward, snapping the chain anchoring it, and then the other. He clamped his fingers down on the ledge Toki was standing on and howled. The room filled with blue light and the rocks began to go black and then white as a thin layer of frost spread across them. Toki moved backwards as Ktrano raised his fists and hammered the ground, sending showers of rocks falling and a burst of icy wind that chilled the air. As he climbed up, ice formed around his fingers and soon the whole cavern was glistening with ice.
    Ktrano held out his hand, which was now quite healed, to Toki, who leapt on as carefully as she could. Sheltering her with his massive body, Ktrano bunched his other hand into a fist and punched through the ceiling.

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Sunday, November 16th, 2003
12:12 am - Midgard snapshot
The seven Chaos Lords are:
Bakaruka, the Master of Carnage.
Rathrak, the Ever-Suffering.
Caerth, the Dark Fae.
Tsadomarn, the Shogun of Sorrow.
Slayr, the Blood-Drinker.
Xerxeth, the Lord of Tears.
Mharakhan, the Mutilated.

Darain is their master. He created each one, and each one has an origin that is steeped in pain, blood and agony.

Tarol's fur was standing straight up, and right now the word "fear" was an understatement. He was tied to a stake on a barrow in the middle of a stone circle, and the giant stones were still dripping with blood.
    A few feet beyond the stone circle was the Horde. All of it. As far as he could see there were twisted, soulless abominations, their oozing limbs and jagged teeth, every size and shape. Yellow and red eyes stared at him hungrily, the babble of howls and retchings assaulting his ears. The spawn moved around the henge, sometimes clambering over one another, always staring but never coming any closer.
    They began to slow their circling, eventually stopping, and became quiet. Their heads flopped to their chests - those that had chests beneath their heads - and a dull sound started to emanate from the Horde. It grew and grew, until all the creatures had thrown their heads back and were howling, a single terrifying note that carried across the grey moor.
    The throng parted, and a single figure appeared in the distance. It seemed forever for them to arrive, moving slowly along the path laid out for them. But eventually they did arrive, and the Horde closed back up, and once again all those horrible eyes were on Tarol.
    He could see the figure more clearly now. They were wearing a heavy hooded black robe, one that shrouded their face in shadow, but was clearly a Norn. But what kind of Norn could command the Horde?
    The robed Norn stepped up the barrow to stand in front of Tarol, and now Tarol could see the faint outline of the Norn's face.
    "Cap-tain Ta-rol," said the Norn, speaking each syllable in turn. By the voice, he was clearly male. "How... nice... to see you once again."
    "Wh..." Tarol managed to say.
    "Ah," said the Norn, and his head dropped a bit. "I'm insulted, my dear Captain of the Guard. I was rather hoping you'd have remembered me."
    "Who... are you?" Tarol choked out the words, not caring that his expression was one of sheer, abject terror.
    The Norn pulled down his hood, and underneath was a perfectly normal face, not one belonging to the Chaos Horde. His fur was grey, his eyes were dark green, and his hair was green-black and slicked back across his head. However, the dominating mark was the rune G on his forehead, burnt into his flesh.
    "My name, Tarol, is Darain. I guess if you still don't remember me I'll enlighten you. A few years ago you threw me out of Mimir, for some... some... some made-up charge of garroting!"
    The Norn's face was twisted in anger now, and Tarol could see the wrinkles around his eyes, eyes that were wandering out of focus. This Darain was a mystery, a normal Norn in the midst of the Horde.
    Darain blinked, and his eyes settled. "So, you think I'm normal, do you?" he asked, glaring. Tarol couldn't say anything as the strange Norn turned and walked away, stopping a couple of yards away from him at the slope of the barrow. "I can read your thoughts, don't bothering blathering about it.
    "You see, my dear Captain, you had me branded and cast me out. I couldn't find shelter anywhere, for who would want a criminal? Eventually I found myself out on these very moors, and my first night I slept in the lee of these very stones. That was when he spoke to me."
    Darain held his arms out and gave a sigh of pleasure. The Horde echoed the sound, eerily. "Yes!" Darain cried out. "His whispered words, seeping into me, infusing me with power... such wonderful words!
    "I became his loving son, his first disciple, the one who converted the heretics into his children, the beautiful children you see before you. I have led them here, to the last heretic city, to finish what my master and father has started."
    He looked back over his shoulder to gaze deeply into the eyes of the terror-stricken Tarol, and then back to the Horde. He spread his arms out wide again, and a low hiss issued forth from the army of abominations.
    "Maki..." came the sound, and Tarol's heart almost stopped beating there and then.
    "Will you convert, Captain?" Darain still faced out to the crowd of his army of warped followers. "Can I make you beautiful?"
    "N... No," said Tarol hoarsely. "Never."
    Darain flicked his head back, staring harshly at Tarol. "So... you like your flesh," he said quietly. "But why? It makes you slow, sluggish, dimwitted and... weak."
    Darain raised a hand to his chin and dug his fingers into his neck. Black blood spurted out, and he peeled off his face, leaving his eyeballs in the bare skull. As Tarol screamed he tore off his robes and then the rest of his flesh in ragged handfuls, eventually exposing his ribcage. Tarol could see straight through him as he reached inside, grasping his heart and then squeezing until it burst. He turned and strode towards Tarol, black metal seeping out of his bones and forming a suit of armour that thinly covered his rotting form. Spikes burst forth from it, like pus from boils, and two horns, forward-pointing like those of a bull, grew from his temples.
    "Now who is the stronger?" Darain yelled, his hideous face inches from Tarol's. His skeletal mouth meant his words came out twisted, his rotting tongue spewing grey-green spittle everywhere. "My flesh was weak, so my father tore it from me. Pain is power, and absolute pain gave me absolute power.
    "I was going to exact vengeance upon you, Tarol, but I realised you led me to my glorious father," hissed Darain, his unblinking eyes boring straight into Tarol's mind. "And he has told me that I should not control the Horde alone..."
    Tarol screamed as Darain's fingers bit into his arm, and could feel the warm blood trickle down towards his fingers. "Don't be afraid to scream," whispered Darain. "I did. But you shall be my first, my first... Chaos Lord."
    Darain pulled, and as the flesh came away Tarol screamed again, and the Horde screamed with him. "Your mind will see things clearly once we're finished, when the moon rises," said Darain, digging his fingers into Tarol once more. "You shall be born anew, as my servant, as my son, as the first, as... Mharakhan..."

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Friday, October 31st, 2003
10:02 pm - Here & Now snapshot.
Sometimes I just think of the daftest thing ever, and then it turns out to be a cool idea. Shut up, I still love it.

"Shut up, shut up! Stupid, stupid human," bellowed Mha, nostrils flaring. "Atomic devices? Nuclear weapons? Your monkey brains are far too addled to think of anything else!"
    "Better than being stuck sixty-five million years in the past, you blundering REPTILE!" Zak was starting to sweat, his shoulders heaving with every breath. "How blind do you have to be to realise that this threat needs more than your pointy sticks!"
    Mha blinked once, then twice, and suddenly his expression twisted further into sheer rage. He let out a thunderous roar that shook the room, knocking Zak off his feet. The dinosaur seized the gantry in both oversized hands and Zak was immediately reminded of the difference in size between them.
    "You... insult... the brobe?" Mha's voice didn't match his violent expression, being far too soft and quiet. His brobe, the smooth, sleek, sharp weapon the size of a surfboard, hung from one of his many belts. Zak slowly gulped and shook his head. This was going to go from worse to messy, violent death.

    "Yes?" Mha's voice was still a soft hiss. Zak couldn't find the words to speak.
    "It's quite clear we need to find a solution to this... these... problems," said Ifye. She folded her arms - somehow accomodating her third arm - and smiled. Mha and Zak immediately felt rather stupid. Ifye sighed and floated up to the gantry, to face the two... men... directly.
    "Our three races, each the dominant in their time, working together to triumph over a common foe and save our planet thrice over. And gentlemen, I must stress that we are working together on this."

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Wednesday, October 22nd, 2003
7:32 pm - Oddverse snapshot, to please Sän.
Yes, this is in the middle of the Potter Sue. No, I'm not giving up on it. Yes, I'm doing NaNoWriMo. No, I won't tell you what I'm writing.


No more questions. Writing happens now.

"What is that smell?!" Meita clamped a hand over her nose and mouth and began to gag. Half the crew began to do the same, the rest just looking incredibly uncomfortable. Androm thanked his lucky star that he didn't have a nose.
    A mere smell would not stop an army, but this was no mere smell. As they pushed further, through the winding corridors of the castle, it became worse and worse. Even Androm could feel it, seeping across his skin, making him itch and shiver. The captain was as hard-faced as usual, his expression set, but his eyes were red and watering.
    "Smells like a zombie threw up last year's meal," groaned Pietar, metamorphing his nose away. "You can't even filter it properly."
    "Ugh, necromancers can't be human if they can endure a stink like this."
    "I tole you, we ain't goin' t'see a bonehead," grumbled Captain Dresi, ending his sentence in a barrage of violent coughing. "I-It's a soddin' werewolf."
    "I hate to break it to you, Cap," said Androm, "but any werewolf would be dead by now. Even I can feel this stink."
    "Ya don't know Butter," grunted Dresi, and pushed onwards round the corner. The crew followed, ending up standing behind him in front of a huge wooden door. Dresi reached down to grab the cord on his mechanical leg, tugging it as hard as he could. After a couple of coughs and splutters the leg roared into life, humming loudly. Dresi drew it back and kicked the door, which to Androm's amazement stood up to the first kick, but was splinters by the fifth.
    "BUTTER! You blubbery bastard, what've I tole you 'bout keepin' yer door locked from me!"
    "It wasn't locked," whined a voice, and Androm swore he could hear the chins wobbling as it spoke. Dresi glared into the gloom and flicked his patch up, revealing the high-power torch underneath. Piercing white light scoured every corner of the room, eventually settling upon a patch of threadbare fur in the corner.
    "Butter..." Dresi growled, flexing his leg.
    "Can't move," sniveled the mysterious Butter. "Too weak."
    "Too fat," snapped Dresi, and ambled over to the nearest wall, fishing in his pocket for his lighter. One by one he lit up the torches on the walls, slowly filling up the room with light.
    Androm felt mildly sick. There, in the corner of the room, resting on a giant beanbag chair, was a larger beanbag chair that could only be Butter because it was the only one of the two that had a face. Presumably it was a face, but its snout was almost nonexistant, and it had as many chins as the entire crew did, if not more.
    The strange creature was covered in patches of grease and other less identifiable stains, with empty boxes and bags littering the floor around him to the depth of three feet. Its balloon shape was only spoiled by the rolls of flab hanging off its gut, arms, legs and everywhere. Oddly out of place though, was the little blue hat upon its head, apart from which it was only wearing a gigantic nappy like a helpless baby.
    "Lads, this is Butter," said Dresi, snapping his lighter shut. "Butter, they are not food."
    Butter shuffled about on his gigantic arse, disturbing the pile of junk around him. "What'd ya bring for Butter?" he burbled, jiggling as he breathed.
    "A soddin' clout round t'earhole if you don't belt up," said Dresi. "Now, I've heard some stuff about Adm'ral Lufoel recently, and I wanna know what you know."
    "What heard," mumbled Butter, trying to talk as little as possible to conserve energy. Dresi shook his head.
    "Don't work like that, Butter, you horrifying tub of goo. You tell me what you know."
    "'Resi, we friends..." Butter said, and Dresi lunged forward and grabbed the fat werewolf by a few rolls of flab.
    "You ate my leg! I turned my back fer two minutes and you - bit - it - right - off!" Dresi punctuated the spaces by punching the werewolf, which did nothing at all considering the creature's girth, but sufficiently shocked Butter.
    "Knew should have never left 'lice force," it gurgled, flailing unhappily.

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Thursday, October 16th, 2003
11:51 pm - Harry Potter and the Dark Lord's Ring - Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Boromir, faced with a soft comfortable bed in relative privacy with no Gimli snoring or Legolas sneaking in with him, slept the best sleep he'd ever slept. The next morning he felt pleasantly refreshed, sauntering jauntily down to the Great Hall to partake in breakfast. Who knows, perhaps he might even indulge in the hobbit custom of second breakfast.
    "Cor, mister, you don't 'alf snore," said Ron.
    "You think that's snoring?" Boromir asked. Ron nodded, and Boromir hoped the strange little ginger-haired child would never have to endure Gimli's deafening night-time noises.
    "So, strange witch-children, what food are-[EXPLETIVE DELETED]!!! WHAT THE [EXPLETIVE DELETED]?!" Boromir was half-standing on the table, pointing wildly at the staff table. There, sitting next to Snape (who was wearing a scarf and avoiding nodding) was a giant lidless eye, wreathed in flames and wearing a fetching bowler hat.
    "Oh, that's just Professor Sauron," said Harry. "He's our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."
    "HE IS THE [EXPLETIVE DELETED] DARK ARTS!!" screamed Boromir.
    "Well," said Hermione primly, "I did read in Badass Evil: A History that there was once a Dark Lord Sauron who wanted to rule the world, blah blah etc., defeated by elves and men."
    "Elves? Like Dobby?" Harry looked puzzled. Hermione smiled and shook her head.
    "Different fandom, Harry."
    "AM I THE ONLY ONE CONCERNED ABOUT THE [EXPLETIVE DELETED] DARK LORD SITTING WITHIN [EXPLETIVE DELETED] DEATH-BEAM RANGE?!" Boromir drew his sword and ran at full tilt towards Sauron, leaping from table to table, and once off Malfoy's head.
    "Oh, hi Boromir," said Sauron. "Strange I didn't notice you, what with me being a giant lidless eye and all that. Oh, by the way, zap."
    A crazy magical death-beam shot out of Sauron's eye - and he's all eye - and struck Boromir full on in the chest.
    "[expletive deleted]..." mumbled Boromir.
    "Har har har," laughed Sauron. "And now I have a class to teach. Yoink!"
    As Sauron floated uncertainly away, Harry, Ron and Hermione looked on with a 1:3 mix of worry and panic. The generic background pupils of Hogwarts also did, but no one cared about them much. Ron scratched the back of his head and shuffled his feet.
    "Cor [expletive deleted] blimey," he said. Harry and Hermione nodded glumly.
    "Looks like Sauron really is evil," said Harry. "I don't know how much worse things can get."
    In accordance to narrative law, a cheery, sparkly-haired girl breezed over to them.
    "Hi! I'm Destiny Angela Sapphire Hitler," she said. "I'm sure we'll be the best friends ever despite me being oh-so-much smarter, prettier and cleverer than you!"
    "[expletive deleted]..." said Harry.

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