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Post by the panopticountolaf on May 10, 2022 9:22:18 GMT -5
ME PLEASE !!!
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Post by R. on May 10, 2022 9:30:55 GMT -5
Ok but like YES! Sign me up!!!!
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Post by Esmé's meme is meh on May 10, 2022 9:46:58 GMT -5
I'm in obvi
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on May 10, 2022 15:23:40 GMT -5
Sure. I want to write a chapter about Diceys Deperatment Store and its former use as a sex dungeon. If Semblance likes this post Ill assume hes okay with that.
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Post by Violent BUN Fortuna on May 10, 2022 15:27:46 GMT -5
I'd be up for this! ^_^
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Post by Reba on May 10, 2022 22:29:53 GMT -5
in
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Post by Poe's Coats Host Toast on May 11, 2022 1:02:06 GMT -5
13 users/chapters is a brave undertaking. The Collaborative Calamity was stalled several times and the last six chapters ended up being written by Dante. But I've been a part of the Collab Calam, and I'm in on this one.
It's been a while since I've written prose, but I actually have a little word document with small ideas for a small ATWQ fan fic (that I was never gonna write), so I guess I have a bit of a jumping off point. Hope these stories don't have to be long, thou
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Luis
Reptile Researcher
Say yes to heaven, say yes to me.
Posts: 29
Likes: 34
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Post by Luis on May 16, 2022 11:37:58 GMT -5
Hey, it's been a long time since my last time writing in public, but I think it's about time. I'm just coming back to the Forum, but I'd love to join this Collab if you don't mind! ♥
EDIT: I've just noticed the word 'time' snapping out several times. I swear we use a different word for every 'time' in Spanish. Ludicrulous... a word which here means 'I gotta embrace a dictionary more often'.
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Post by Esmé's meme is meh on May 16, 2022 16:34:13 GMT -5
I feel ya bruh
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on May 26, 2022 17:27:12 GMT -5
Is there any kind of deadline or date that you want these stories done by?
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on May 27, 2022 3:21:47 GMT -5
Do we send them to you when we're done?
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on May 27, 2022 5:34:09 GMT -5
00:00
Sometime
It was a night of Blackest Ink. The moon and stars had abandoned the world, caring not to send out even the tiniest ray of comfort toward the surface of the sea, and so the water itself had become hidden and subsumed by the darkness, inseprable from the sky. The world had blanketed itself in a sheet of black, and nothing could escape it.
It was on this night that a great storm came down upon the world. The sky opened up its rage, and the sea answered in its turn. And he, he had the misfortune to be caught inbetween them. He had been aboard The Black Cat, a merchant vessel, sailing from a faraway with its small band of followers, hoping to find escape. Instead they had found only this.
It had been a mess of confusion, the darkness clogging his senses, nothing but the taste and smell of salt surrounding him. He had been submerged, drawn down into the depths of the sea. For a moment, whilst he was drowning, he had almost felt at peace. The stillness of the ocean had almost seemed to call out to him, pulling him further into its depths. But then, without knowing how, he had been back on the surface, wildly tossed around in the waves, screams filling his ears. Now, there was only silence.
In the darkness that cloaked him it was impossible to be sure where he now was. At first he felt as though he were floating, but then he realised that this could not be so. There was something pressing into his back, like sharing a bed with a lovers foot, and as he turned towards it he realised that he was on land once again. And yet the water was still lapping against his feet. It was impossible to see, to work out any semblance of where he was.
He turned himself over onto his front, and found that he was laying on a bed of rocks. There roughly hewn, but with the sea softening their surface. In the darkness of the night, the rocks looked as black as everything else around him, but he could feel that they were there. As his ears began to clear, he could hear the waves lapping up against shoreline, the sea almost gentle again. The storm had passed, and here he was. Left behind.
He rose to a stand, unsteady and clumsy, and he felt the weight around his neck unbalance him for a moment. He still had it. It had been placed on a rope around his neck, going through a loop at either end of the wooden case. How it had survived the storm when so little else had managed it he did not know.
He stood for a moment, the water lapping at his feet, the wind brushing up against his face. The taste of salt and blood in his mouth, a thirst in his stomach, the cold beginning to set in through his skin. And as he stood, the water was beginning to inch further up his leg. The tide was coming in.
Suddenly he moved upward, scrambling up onto the rocks and stones, crawling up the pebbles, finding sand and grit scraping between his fingers. He was on a rocky outcrop of sorts, some kind of offshore island, barely a few feet across. He would not be able to survive long out here. He dragged himself up toward its peak, which turned out to be barely a few meteres of flat, sandy earth. He sat, looking down upon his surroundings,..
He was lost in the midsts of nowhere, with no possible way of escape. The sea was chasing after him, eating its gentle way up towards his sanctuary of solitude. He was going to die here, alone. The sea always gets you in the end, his father used to say. First a trickle, then the flood.
There was a sound og something breaking against the waves, a splashing of something against the water. He could not see, but he looked towards the noise, coming back in the direction from which he had climbed. He could just about glimpse something shifting and moving through the gloom. There was something moving in the water, travelling across its surface. He wasn't sure what to do, if this thing would be friend or foe. But it made no difference – he was trapped, with nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.
The shifting something came to a stop at the outcrops edge, and by now he could make out a small rowing boat, with a someone sat inside. The someone climbed out of the boat, and began to head towards him.
This was rescue, surely, and yet he felt nothing but fear when he looked at the stranger. The few fragments of light that were scattered around seemed to be trying their best to avoid him, leaving a scant black outline cast against the inky waters. He was dressed in black, with a black lacquer mask obscuring his features even further. And he moved noiselessly, as though sinking into the world around him. As the stranger reached the plateau, now standing only a few metres away from him, he realised that there was intent and purpose to the strangers arrival. He was looking for him.
'Mallahan.' said the Stranger.
Mallahan did not reply. He stared at the void of the Stranger, trying to find something to latch on to, some essence of humanity, but finding nothing.
The Stranger moved, and began to sit, cross-legged, directly facing Mallahan. He reached for a casket that was concealed about his person, and began to busy himself with its contents. He removed a wooden stick, and began to draw little squares into the sand. After a few moments, he turned his attention back to Mallahan.
'Would you like to play a game?'
Mallahan could feel the case weighing heavily from the rope around his neck, the weight of expectation. 'What kind of game?'
'The kind that you would very much like to win.' said the Stranger, his voice calm and measured, a whisper like the waves of the ocean. 'The tide is coming in, and you don't have much time. I have a boat, and it could take you away. The problem is, there is only space for one. So....;
'So?'
'We play a game.' The stranger indicated to the space in front of him, perhaps wanting Mallahan to sit at the opposite side of the board. 'And whoever wins can sail away from here. Whoever loses will face a much more unfortunate fate.'
Mallahan sat down opposite the stranger. 'Why? Why come here to rescue me if you knew you could not rescue us both?'
'I'm not here to rescue you. I'm here to win.' The Stranger inclined a hand towards the case around Mallahans neck. 'Open it'
Almost instinctively, without thinking how or why he was doing it, Mallahan removed the rope from around his neck, untied one end, and slid open the covering of the case.
It had been passed down to him by his father, and his father before him, handed down through the generations. It was perhaps thousands of years old, and worth even more than Mallahans life. And nobody knew its secret.
They were 16 pieces, half a chess set, each figure intricately carved into shape. They were made from a strange type or dark wood, and each figure contained a small slit at the bottom, caked over with white, waxy paper. They were unique, unlike any other set in the world.
The Stranger gave a slight nod in response, and he pointed toward the squares set in sand directly in front of Mallahan. He was to prepare his pieces for battle.
'I would be lying if I said that I had not seen that set for years. I have seen it many, many times. It was tempting, on those such occasiona, to take it back for my own safekeeping, but sadly it is not that simple. You cannot truly own something if you steal it. It must be won.' As he spoke, The Stranger was beginning to take pieces from his own casket, each of his set the purest of white, and was lining up his combatants in order.
'You see, a long time ago this set was Mine. I was foolish, and headstrong, and I lost it to a challenger whom I had underestimated. And so for centuries I have waited, trying to win it back. But you Mallahans have never once submitted to me. I cannot win if you will not play, and so I have not been able to win back what is rightfully mine. Now, however....'
Mallahan looked back down at the boat, bobbing around on the waters surface. The sea was slowly edging its way closer and closer towards them.
'Now I think you will play.' said The Stranger. He paused for a moment, to take a pocketwatch out of the bottom of his casket, and he placed it next to their playing board. 'And I will win. And if not, there will always be another chance. I am very patient when it comes to my vengance. I had to wait many years for him to die, your ancestor, the one who managed to procure them from me. But when he did, I made sure to take something from him as well. I carved a new set of my own, out of bone.'
The pieces were lined up now, on either side of the board. Mallahan looked across at his opponents. Sixteen shards of solid white, the black fingers of the stranger resting atop one of the pawns. This man, this creature, was nothing of this earth. He was a piece of the darkness, a man stained by the sea.
'Shall I make the first move?'
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Post by R. on May 27, 2022 8:09:22 GMT -5
Wow. What does it mean?
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on May 27, 2022 15:21:43 GMT -5
Hey, thats your job. I wrote this whilst listenting to '04 movie soundtrack, which was interesting.
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Jun 4, 2022 5:45:55 GMT -5
Thats good stuff, and nice Black Cat reference with 'Selina'.
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