|
Post by jemima on Mar 22, 2006 17:31:57 GMT -5
Very very nice, Linda, Excellent. I liked the "caged lion" reference and I like being menacing.
|
|
|
Post by twistedbrain on Mar 22, 2006 17:35:19 GMT -5
Oh, snap, I just read this, and I'm in the first chapter. Yay, I'm finally mentioned in a 667 story! Great, Linda.
|
|
|
Post by deanna. on Mar 22, 2006 21:18:19 GMT -5
Yays! You're a spectacular writer, Linda. *exalt*
|
|
|
Post by Linda Rhaldeen on Mar 23, 2006 14:58:12 GMT -5
You guys are awesome. And now, without any further ado, I present to you chapter three.
Chapter 3
“Mum, have you seen Dave?”
Jemima started. She looked away from the window she been staring out of and saw the silhouette of her e-son in the darkness. “No, I haven’t,” she lied. “Why? Is it suddenly my duty to look after your things?”
“No, it’s not,” PJ said. “But I thought I set him down next to my pillow this morning, and he’s not there anymore. And I’m just a tad worried. Do you have any idea how much trouble Dave can get into if he gets in the wrong hands?” he asked.
Jemima mentally punched herself. She’d forgotten that Dave had been on the pillow and had set it on the dresser instead. “Have you looked on your dresser?” she asked innocently.
PJ shook his head. “No. I’ll go check to see if it’s there.” A few seconds later, she heard an exclamation of happiness in the next room and smiled smugly. Then she looked back out through the window, where she had a perfect view of a certain balcony. She watched it intently, waiting patiently for any sign of movement.
After about half an hour, a cloaked and hooded figure slipped down from the balcony and into the darkness. It padded silently through a garden, sticking to the shadows, then disappeared from sight. Jemima smiled once more, then made her way to bed.
Meanwhile, the figure was making his way to a dilapidated hut at the edge of 1334. It looked very out-of-place next to all the other beautiful buildings, but was tucked away so as not to become an eyesore. In fact, if the figure hadn’t known it was there, he might never have seen it.
The figure stopped at the door of the hut, looked cautiously around, and then knocked twice. He waited a second or two, and then knocked a third time. Several moments later, the door creaked open a crack, then wide enough to admit the figure. After he had entered, the door slammed shut.
Once inside, the figure left his cloak on and his face concealed. He gazed at his host in the darkness, but he or she was wearing a mask and could not be seen very clearly in the dark anyway. “I hope you’ve brought plenty of money,” the host said in a thickly accented voice, and the figure could not tell if the speaker was male or female. He nodded.
“I’ve brought 50 gold karma,” he said, tapping his pocket, “and I need-“
“I know what you need. Your face says it all.” The figure pulled his hood further over his face at this. “And I assume you want it tomorrow? Good thing you’ve brought so much gold karma, or I might not have agreed. But as it is, your payment is accepted,” the host said shortly. Suddenly, a sword flashed through the darkness and came to rest less than an inch from the hooded guest’s throat. “You will hand me the money,” the voice commanded.
The figure gingerly took a purse out of his pocket and held it out, keeping his eyes on the tip of the sword. The money was taken, and he heard the clink of coins as it was counted. Then the sword was withdrawn. “Very good. Very, very good. You will go now,” the host purred.
The figure turned to go, glad to get away. He was also glad that he had managed to keep his identity secret. But then, as he opened the door and stepped outside, the voice spoke once more. “It was a real pleasure doing business with you, Akbar.” He winced.
|
|
|
Post by twistedbrain on Mar 23, 2006 18:05:30 GMT -5
Wow. Interesting.
|
|
|
Post by A. the Returned on Mar 24, 2006 8:12:16 GMT -5
Yzay, mysterious. I love your writing.
|
|
|
Post by deanna. on Mar 25, 2006 13:19:55 GMT -5
Gaah, you're so good! *love*
|
|
|
Post by Linda Rhaldeen on Mar 29, 2006 15:23:12 GMT -5
Gah, it's been six days since I updated, simply because I keep forgetting to post the next chapter. Anyway, here it is.
Chapter 4
The next day dawned bright and beautiful. Ron was excited to hear about the tour, and hurried on ahead of BSam to find the old oak. Akbar was nowhere to be seen, but they’d arrived a bit early and assumed he hadn’t yet arrived. None of them noticed the pair of eyes that watched them intently from high up in the tree.
They waited around the tree, ticking off the minutes and wondering when the admin-king was going to arrive. Finally, BSam could stand it no longer. “He’s obviously not going to show,” he said to Ron. “Let’s go.”
Just then, a branch of the tree rustled, high up in the air. “What’s that?” asked Ron. But whatever it had been had moved away quickly, because nothing was there.
Suddenly, a shiny sword waved in front of BSam’s face, quick as lightning. He gasped in surprise, and just had time to make out gloved hands and a masked face before the figure holding the sword was gone in another quick flash of silver. And then it was behind him, expertly handling the sword. He turned towards it just in time for the figure to disappear and reappear again at his back. “Who are you and what do you want?” he panted while constantly spinning around in a futile attempt to keep the deadly sword in his field of vision.
“If you don’t know already, you will soon find out. Be prepared to beg for mercy!” a cold voice called out in an accent that disguised the speaker’s gender. The sword, which had kept a safe distance away, suddenly darted near, and BSam had to dodge it or he probably would have gotten cut on the arm. The figure continued its dance around BSam, the sword waving closer and closer every time.
And then there was a smashing sound. The figure had inadvertently trodden on Ron’s foot, and he had lost his balance and fallen on it. Slightly dazed by all the dizzying spinning, BSam reached out and grabbed the figure, pulling off its mask.
Ron gasped. “It’s Deanna!” he said, staring openmouthed at the now-unmasked figure. She grimaced and nodded. “Yes, it’s me,” she said, dropping her accent. “But I prefer to be known as Puss in Boots when I’m dressed like this.” She gestured at her sword and mask and pointed to two cat-like artificial ears that stuck up from her hair. “After all, I’m supposed to be one of the nicest members of 667.”
BSam growled. “You’ve got five seconds to tell me why you were trying to kill me.”
Deanna began stammering. “It’s-it’s complicated, see. I have absolutely no grudge against you at all. You either,” she said, nodding to Ron. “I just hire out to do the dirty work for others.”
“So you’re an assassin, huh?” BSam asked. “Well then, who paid you for this?”
“The admin-king, Akbar. He came by last night and-“
“Akbar hired you to kill me?” BSam asked, inwardly noting that his suspicions had been correct. “Huh, and he told me he was a pacifist. Why, when I get back to the castle I’ll-“
“No, you can’t tell him! No one knows who I really am, and if he find out you’re not dead Puss’s reputation as an efficient assassin will be ruined!”
“And why not? What have you done for me?”
But Deanna’s eyes were welling up in tears, and suddenly she looked as helpless as a kitten. “Aw, look at her,” Ron said, “Why would you want to hurt Deanna, BSam?”
BSam sighed. “You’re right,” he said, giving in. “If Abkar sent you to kill me, he can probably send others. It’s probably best to stay away for now. Deanna, you can come with us.”
At this, Deanna brightened and any sign that she had been crying vanished. BSam had a sneaking suspicion that Deanna had staged the whole thing, but didn’t say anything. She fastened her mask back on and picked up her sword. “I’m eternally grateful to you,” she said, accent back. “You may have saved my life, and if the time ever comes that I need to return the favor, I will not hesitate to do so.” At that, she saluted BSam with her sword.
At about that same time, A. was just waking up. She opened her eyes and looked around to discover that BSam was gone. Puzzled, she quickly got ready for the day and left the room in search of someone who knew where he was. After a few minutes of wandering around, the smell of breakfast reached her nostrils and she found a large dining hall where Alice and Akbar, as well as several other people, were having breakfast. “Have any of you seem BSam?” she asked, sitting down next to Akbar.
Alice shook her head. “No, I haven’t. What about you, Akbar? Did you see him?” But it seemed that Akbar either didn’t hear or didn’t want to answer, because he kept silent.
“He was already gone when I woke up this morning,” A. explained. “He was so moody and angry last night; I really hope he hasn’t gone and done anything rash.”
“I’m sure BSam’s fine,” Alice said. “After all, it’s not like there are any killers on the loose or anything. Right, Akbar?”
Akbar paled a bit and slowly shook his head. A. excused herself so she could keep looking, and Alice and Akbar were left in silence. Finally, Akbar could stand it no longer.
“I’m a horrible person,” he moaned. “A horrible, horrible person.”
“You’re one of the most wonderful people I know,” Alice soothed. “You are not a horrible person.”
“Yes I am,” Akbar insisted. “I’ve just done a terrible thing, Alice.”
“What is it you’ve done?” Alice asked. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”
“Yes, it was though. It was a terrible, terrible thing. I-“ suddenly he stopped. He had just realized Jemima across the room, staring at him with a cold expression on her face. He gave a little yelp. “Never mind,” he said, and felt more terrible than ever.
|
|
|
Post by samreen on Mar 29, 2006 19:38:02 GMT -5
It's really good Linda. Be sure to update soon!
|
|
|
Post by Alice Wilde on Mar 31, 2006 9:59:20 GMT -5
“After all, it’s like there are any killers on the loose or anything."
QUOTE OF THE WEEK.
Thank you for writing this, Linda.
|
|
|
Post by Linda Rhaldeen on Mar 31, 2006 11:38:53 GMT -5
Argh, that was supposed to be "It's not like there are any killers on the loose or anything." Thanks for catching that, Alice.
Note to self: Make sure all errors have been fixed before posting the chapter.
|
|
|
Post by A. the Returned on Apr 1, 2006 2:47:10 GMT -5
Yzay Update, wonderful as always.
|
|
|
Post by Linda Rhaldeen on Apr 1, 2006 21:07:28 GMT -5
Hooray for all the people that commented. You get brownie points. And now for chapter five:
Chapter 5
“So, where are we off to, boss?” Deanna asked.
“Well, we may as well go looking to find some missing 667ers. That’s the main reason A. and I came out here,” BSam replied, smiling at being called ‘boss’.
“So did I,” Ron muttered, but no one seemed to hear him.
Deanna nodded. “I think I know where we can start looking. I’ve seen what looks like a small cottage out in the woods with smoke coming from the chimney. There’s bound to be some 667er living there. Follow me, I know the way.”
As the three of them trekked through the woods, Ron was painfully aware that he was being ignored again. Deanna confidently led the way, and BSam kept close by. Ron, who had shorter legs, lagged behind, sometimes barely keeping in sight of the others. But they never turned back to make sure he was keeping up or waited when he got behind. By the time they had reached the building, Ron was exhausted from the running he had had to do to catch up.
It turned out to be much more than a cottage. It was quite a large building, and smoke was indeed coming from all four chimneys. The three of them made their way to the door, and Deanna stood on tiptoe to get a look at a sign hanging there. “Jemima’s Homemade Cures,” she read.
“Cures…” BSam absentmindedly. Hearing about cures brought back memories of the honeymoon he had spent with A. at Proboards Support. He had told A. that he had a wonderful surprise for her, and he believed that he did. Code scientists there had invented a cure for the glitch that both of them suffered from, and BSam had come there prepared to purchase some of it. But that had proved to be nearly impossible. He had been made to fill out a request form, and then dismissed for the day. The next day when he back to inquire about his form he had been informed of several other forms, and then told to wait in a waiting room for a period that turned out to be several hours. After that he had been informed that the original request form had been lost, and he had to fill out a new one. By the time he finally got in to see someone who didn’t tell him to fill out more forms, he was informed that their entire supply of the cure, as well as the supplies of several other glitch cures, had been sold to a private interest the day before, and with them any hope of him returning to normal. BSam had thought this sounded a little fishy, but by then his time was up and he’d have to fill out another form if he wanted a chance to talk to someone again. Thoroughly disgusted with beaurocracy by then, he had stormed out.
Of course, he was probably just jumping to conclusions. The cures here, if they even were cures and not just some old wives’ tale mixtures, probably had nothing to do with that. Still, he was curious.
The door was locked, and no one came to answer the door no matter how many times they knocked, so BSam cleanly pulled the door off its hinges. The three of them strolled inside casually. They thought they were prepared for anything when they read the sign, but what they saw at Aunt Jemima’s Homemade Cures shocked and amazed them.
“She’s taken all the glitch cures from Proboards Support?” BSam asked, astonished.
“She’s pretending to be global moderator while running a side business?” Deanna asked, dumbfounded.
“She’s letting n00bs handle complex chemical compounds?” Ron asked, sick with horror.
All of them were right. Dozens of n00bs were running about, mixing and stirring and carrying vats of bubbly liquid around. Many of the vats were labeled “glitch cure”. And on one wall, recipes for various cures were scrawled untidily, along with a complete price list.
Suddenly BSam got an idea. “One of these potions is bound to cure my glitch!”
“And the rest are bound to poison you,” Ron said, watching warily as a really cool member mixed a green liquid with a clear liquid to produce a murky brown liquid that smoked.
“I think it’s a wonderful idea, boss,” Deanna said, grabbing a small bottle of potion from a nearby shelf. “‘Cure for the Ugliness Glitch: Turn an ugly profile into an extraordinary profile and impress your true love’, this one says. Is that it?”
“Yes!” BSam said, taking the bottle excitedly. “I can try some right now and be back to normal before-“
“Somehow, I think not.” A cold voice said, interrupting BSam. Jemima had appeared, clutching what looked like a spoon in her hand, and she looked so angry she could spit fire. “You’ve broken my door down, you trespassers. You will pay for this,” she hissed, gesturing to the masked Deanna and Ron. “And you, Swamp creature. What are you doing still alive? I thought Akbar was going to get rid of you!” she shouted at BSam.
“I’ve just got one thing to say,” Ron said, bringing everyone’s attention to him. “RUN!” he yelled, and made for the door, dodging the n00bs that attempted to block his path. Deanna and BSam were right on his heels.
For the first few seconds, Jemima was too stunned to do anything, but then she pointed the seemingly ordinary spoon at them and yelled something repeatedly. Spurts of water, some fireballs, and even a flock of doves came shooting out in their direction, but luckily they managed to stay ahead. They continued to run for several minutes, not daring to look back, and then Deanna found a cave. “In here!” she yelled.
The three of them hurried inside the cave and spent the next few seconds catching their breaths. Then BSam, grinning, took the bottle and opened it up. Before anyone could protest, he took a swallow and set it back down. Ron watched BSam intently, hoping he hadn’t been poisoned, but then curiosity finally got the better of him. “I want to try a swallow too!” he said.
“And me,” Deanna chimed in, trying to take the bottle. But Ron was faster. He grabbed the bottle and took a large swallow. Deanna, worried that she wouldn’t get a try, wrested the bottle away from him, but it was nearly empty, and in the struggle the bottle dropped and broke. The last of the potion seeped into the ground.
Deanna watched it angrily and then turned on Ron. “This is all your fault,” she yelled. But Ron had collapsed, unconscious, on the ground. She gasped and turned to BSam, but BSam had also collapsed.
|
|
|
Post by A. the Returned on Apr 2, 2006 8:08:53 GMT -5
I love the way you always encorporate proboards into the setting.
|
|
|
Post by Linda Rhaldeen on Apr 5, 2006 11:15:33 GMT -5
I love the way you always encorporate proboards into the setting. Well, I really really dislike the Proboards support forum, and so I figured this was as good a time as any to rant about them. Anyways, thanks for replying, A. I meant to post this chapter yesterday, but completely forgot because it was on the second page. Hmm...I need to come up with some sort of plot to get more replies. As a side note, I just finished chapter 8 last night, and this story is now officially longer than 667 Shrek, by about 100 words. Chapter 6 A. had spent much of the morning with Alice, going over formal arrangements to become an e-daughter. It was extremely boring, and kept looking for a chance to slip away so she could continue to look for BSam and the other missing forum members. Akbar had been with them originally, but he had slipped away fairly quickly, and A. suspected the formalities bored him as much as her. Finally, she found her chance when the ambassador from UE.com arrived and asked to speak with Alice. A. quickly escaped from the room she’d been in with Alice and made her way to the front door of the castle. She was just getting the doors open when Jemima appeared rather suddenly, her arms full of small jars this time. “Hello, A.,” she said in a falsely cheery voice. “Where are you going?” “I have to find BSam,” A. explained. “He’s gone missing.” Jemima shook her head. “My, my,” she said sadly, “that’s too bad. I’m sure you’ll find him soon enough, though. In fact, later today I can help you go and find him. But first, how about you come with me? I’ll make you a cup of tea.” “That’s very nice of you, but-“ “Oh, nonsense. I insist!” A. didn’t want to refuse such an invitation, so she followed Jemima through the maze of hallways to a series of several rooms. Jemima deposited her armful of jars on a counter, and soon a kettleful of tea was brewing. Jemima poured two cups of it, making a big show of giving A. the fancier cup. A. sipped a bit. There was barely enough time for her brain to register that the tea didn’t taste right when she began to feel faint, and then suddenly she felt like she was falling… A door was flung open carelessly and PJ strode into the rooms. “Is that A.?” he asked incredulously, spying the motionless figure draped over a chair. Jemima, who had been watching A. with a cunning expression on her face, nodded. “What’s A. doing here?” PJ asked. He painfully remembered his last encounter with A. That time, he had attempted to rescue her from the Swamp creature and ended up unconscious on the forest floor of Conflicting Conjectures. “A. is here to visit us for a while,” Jemima said impatiently. “She’s very tired, so don’t disturb her right now. By the way, you still want to e-marry her, do you not?” PJ nodded. “Then today and tomorrow, you must pay close attention to what I tell you to do. If you do, everything will work out fine.” PJ, perplexed by his e-mother’s strange instructions, shrugged. “By the way,” he said, “you wouldn’t have happened to see Dave, would you? He’s gone missing again.” “No, I’m afraid I still haven’t seen Dave,” Jemima said. “You really need to learn to take better care of your things.” And then she watched PJ leave again. Once he was out of sight, she took Dave out of her pocket and smirked. Then she called some servants to transport A. back to her room, and went to find Akbar. When she found him, pen in hand and crumpled sheets of paper scattered all around, she glared at him. “You’ve bungled the plan,” she hissed. “Luckily, I’ve improvised and it might still work, but if this plan fails, I personally blame you, and you know what that means.” She disdainfully examined one ink-smudged sheet. “What are these papers for, anyway?” “Oh, nothing,” Akbar said as he tried to gather the papers into a pile and sweep them away. “Just a…a little story I’m working on.” “Oh really,” Jemima said, with absolutely no enthusiasm. “I’m sure you won’t mind me reading one, then.” She reached for the crumpled specimen closest to her. “No, you can’t!” Akbar shouted, and knocked the paper out of her hand. “I mean,” he said, backtracking, “I – I’m very self-conscious about early drafts of my stories, and I don’t want other people reading them.” He swept the papers into the trash and lit a match almost instantaneously, then threw the match into the bin and watched the papers start to burn. “I see,” Jemima said. She gave him a hard look, then frowned at the burning papers and stalked out. She had no tail, of course, but still gave the distinct impression that had she owned a tail, it would be swishing back and forth angrily. A. slept all afternoon, and into the evening, as peacefully as though she were dead. Alice, who had been informed of A.’s collapse, rushed to her bed as soon as she could and watched carefully for any signs of awakening. But none came, and as night fell, Alice slowly drifted off to sleep. If she had been awake that night, she would have realized that A., although still as motionless as ever, was beginning to change. Ever so slowly, her distorted and glitched features melted away, until at midnight, A. looked the way she did before she had ever been hit by the Proboards glitch. But no one would realize that until morning came and A. woke up, shouting in jubilation, to tell everyone that her glitch had been cured. Meanwhile, in a small cave on the outskirts of 1334, BSam was waking up and absentmindedly rubbing his head. His neck was sore and it felt like he’d been sleeping on a rock. Then he took a look around. He had been sleeping on a rock. The rock floor of a cave, that is. He frowned, trying to remember how he’d ended up on the floor of a cave. Then he saw his hand. It looked different. It was a little bit smaller, and not exactly beautiful, but definitely better looking than it had been before. His eyes widened as he remembered the glitch cure potion he had taken, He searched around for something to see his reflection in, but there was nothing to be found, so he walked outside the cave. The sun was high overhead and Deanna was talking with a beautiful stallion BSam had never seen before. Ron was nowhere to be seen. “BSam, you’re awake!” the stallion cried. “And it looks like the potion worked on you! Better than mine did, anyway. Why would I want to be a horse? I probably shouldn’t have taken it when I didn’t have a glitch,” he added as a side note. “I didn’t think the potion would knock you two out like that,” Deanna said. “I was just telling Ron that you’d been out cold for almost a day. Well, I guess Jemima’s not coming back to 667. Where should we go next?” Ron got an idea. “We should go back to the castle! They probably won’t recognize us anymore, and we can surprise A.!” “Oh yes, A.,” BSam remembered. “I wanted to bring her back some cure. Where’d that bottle go?” Deanna stared accusingly at Ron, who reddened. “Well, I kind of drank some, and the rest spilled on the ground,” he said sheepishly. “Well I’m not going back to that factory to get more,” Deanna said quickly. “Neither am I,” Ron added, shuddering. BSam sighed. “Ok, fine. We’ll go back to the castle.”
|
|