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12-10-2005, 03:45 PM
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Prophet
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Join Date: Sep 2005
Posts: 4,800
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The Senior Roleplayers Association
This is a clan for the senior Rp writers on the site. You must include a writing sample to join. The ranks are Level 1-10 (I am a 10!).
This depends on how good your writing is. Here is my sample:
As Alex and Jinx kept up a strong base of fire on the alien ground troops, Riley hefted the launcher over to a better position. He took aim at the scarab’s massive anti-aircraft gun. It was tearing up the marines on the other side of the field. The rocket shot out of the barrel of the launcher and impacted the gun. BOOM!!! The anti-aircraft gun turned to shrapnel. “Jinx,” said Riley with a huff, “I know this sounds crazy, but I’m gonna go up there and disable the scarab’s cannon.” “What?” Jinx stared at Riley in disbelief. “That gun is pinning us down, I’m going to get up there and take it out.” Jinx nodded. “I’m coming with you.” “Alex! Cover us!” Riley yelled as he ran ahead with Jinx. They got to the leg of the scarab and climbed up. Riley stuck his captured energy sword into the scarab’s leg. He gave the other to Jinx. As they climbed up, plasma splashed past them. As they made their way to the scarab’s leg joint, a trio of elites pinned them down. They moved to the midpoint of the scarab’s limb and pulled out their rifles while they sat down. Riley cut down two elites. Two bodies, just a pair of blue streaks, shot past them as they toppled off the deck. Jinx shot down the third. She then threw a fragmentation grenade up into the deck, blowing a crimson armored elite and a squad of grunts off the massive vehicle. They started up again. There was a bit of a ledge at the top and they sat down, taking aim at the hostiles on the deck of the machine. Riley blew two elites up with a grenade. Jinx gunned down one as he was going for a sniper rifle. They climbed up to the top and, still under fire, Riley began to sever the armor on the scarab’s main gun. The gun began to fire and he ducked out of the way in time to avoid getting blinded. As the gun finished its discharge, he ducked around and made two diagonal slashes in the armor on the gun. The cuts formed an X. Riley forced the armor apart to reveal the inner workings of the gun. He didn’t have time for analyzing it, however. He took a Centurion Anti-Armor Mine from his rucksack. The powerful device could cut through a meter of covenant armor as if it was tissue paper. He planted the device on a plasma conduit, just as the gun charged. “Now Jinx!!! Jump!” Behind the pair, a huge explosion erupted. Jinx landed with a thump, and, without missing a beat, got back up and running. Riley landed behind her and they both ran for the cover of the marine base’s walls. BOOM!!! An explosion of blue enveloped the scarab. Small pieces, or at least what looked like small pieces, shot into the sky. The protective flaps of the scarab’s gun flew off into the ground. Riley was almost deafened. The whole front of the scarab blew up into thousands of pieces. The explosion lasted a full seven seconds. The only remaining part of the scarab, the back, collapsed onto the ground. The smell of burnt alien flesh was mortifying. There was one piece on the ground that was larger than all the others. It was the engine core. The remaining pieces of the scarab glistened with plasma. The back of the covenant machine was smoking badly. There was a secondary explosion that blew the rest of the burnt and destroyed metal up. Riley turned to Jinx. “Another job well done.” That was all he said as he got up and walked away.
Once you get accepted, put this in your signature:
The Senior Roleplayers Association
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__________________
IT ISN'T!
Just a one-sided VER-SION!
WE'VE DEALT!
With a manic SUB-VER-SION!
AND I WON'T!
Let the truth be PER-VERT-ED!
AND I WON'T LEAVE ANOTHER VICTIM DES-ERT-ED!
Last edited by Dark Energy : 12-10-2005 at 04:00 PM.
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12-10-2005, 04:57 PM
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Prophet
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Join Date: Dec 2004
Posts: 499
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This'll be non-halo, if you don't mind.
Part One
Prolouge: Just Another Day
There are some stories where good triumphs over evil. Where when it seems that all hope has been lost - and then the rightious and the pure come through. There are also stories where, blessed by the strength and talent of many men, powerful and seemingly immortal beings take on armies, clearing the way for good to live prosperously forever. And there are stories where it seems that nothing is wrong, and life is a fun game to be played, so that when life is over, you can be satisfied, and want nothing more from what living has to offer. And there are legends, legends of a golden age, an age where all is happy, and people could relax.
This is not one of those stories.
This is the story of normal men and women, such as you and I, fighting for their lives, backs against the wall. They have no such special powers, and their lives are far from a game to be played carelessly, and half-heartedly. For them, there is no greater gift than life, and staying alive. For their world is a mealstorm of grief, death, and torture, a world where only the strong, the quick, the intelligent, the prosperous, and, most of all, the unfair, can live a full life. The world, a sad husk of what used to be, was nothing more than a limping old man - knowing of his fate, but driving ever onward.
Welcome to Earth.
Welcome to Gorgoth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~
2034, yes, that was it. Or at least that's what he though it was. And what was it currently? Herold had long given up on trying to find out what earth year it was.
The landscape was black now. As far as the eye could see, there was ash and soot and remains littering the grounds, accompanied by the occasional bloodstain. What was here was once coastal plain, with glittering oceans in the distance. Even the oceans were drained... If it weren't for the oxygen machines they brought, humans would all be dead.
They. 2034. And what were they called, anyway? No point in actually knowing, they were humanity's masters and humanity would be their faithful servant. They had what strongly looked like box-ish globs of cooled wax that had melted off a candle as torsos, and two arms seemingly made out of the same material coming off from around where human shoulders would be. They bent only a certain way, though, which indicated some type of bone mechanism. Necks jutted out at about a 45 degree angle forward from the top of the body, with a head that resembled something not too far off from a velociraptor/vulture. They had heads with a flat top, with a beak-like protrusion at the end. The bottom half of the head was smoothed out at first, but then turned into some type of gullet, it's end not completing the beak of the top. Their mouths were lined with sharp teeth... Which was used mostly on human flesh.
Herold didn't want that fate. So he kept on working at what he was currently doing - collecting ash. They also ate ash. He let out a small whimper, and bent back down once again to collect the result of the bomb. After all, did he want to die? Was it better than this?... Perhaps it was. But how to kill oneself? No oceans to drown yourself in. They would just torture you, They hand picked the juicy ones. Herold wasn't 'juicy'. He was a medium built ash collector. Herold had filled up his bucket. Now to begin the long trek back to the living quarters of his master.
"Weeeeee-O!" Herold let out. The other slaves turned and looked at him. There was a return shout, and he departed. There was no taking chances with Them, They had to know where you were at all times... If you didn't want to be punished. It was sad how earth's way of life had reversed itself. One moment they were living on top. Now they were living on the bottom, no one below, no one equal, one on top. He hoped that his species would someday go extinct, like the rest of the original natives.
No one to talk to.
Nothing to work for.
No one to care.
He surveyed the horizon, looking for indication of the path back. A huge plume of smoke rose in the distance. That way. And as he walked, he wondered if the sun was ever going to come out. The same gray clouds, never changing. Always there. Omnipotent. He continued to walk down the path towards his master's den. His every step kicked up ash and soot, leaving a trail behind for any stalkers. There were a lot nowadays.
It was about half an hour when another slave caught up with Herold. He was lanky, but could lift things with impossible power, judging by his two 30 lb. buckets. His face was riddled by acne, and he bore no hair. He had two brown eyes that seemed to penetrate through everything around him, walked more confidently than any other person he had ever seen. Overall, about 25. Lived to see the old Earth, but not for long.
"You heard about the revolt?"
Herold immediately stopped. "The what!?" he snapped.
"The revolt," the man said again. He looked straight into Herold's eyes. He had an eerie feeling, meeting eyes like that. "We explode the bomb. The big one. I believe it was called Atom."
And at that moment, the young man died. His face writhed in agony, and he fell to the floor, screaming. Herold looked down at him, and watched him spontaneously combust. He let out one withered cry, and his face melted off. Herold had seen it too many times. It was only but one way of punishment, carried on 'traitors' and 'heretics'. He didn't want to be near when they found his corpse. His spinal implant would be activated too, and he would go down in a ball of flame and blood like the no-namer. So he ran. And ran. He got close enough to the den, and there all ash was already collected. There wasn't any to pick up, and if one tripped, all of it would be blown away by the wind.
And trip is just what Herold did.
Tripping is such an odd thing really. One misplaced step, and down one goes. One can also trip on many things. Whether it be a block left on the floor, your own toe, or a freak windstorm, you'll go down and it'll hurt. But tripping doesn't just hurt when your carrying a delivery. It could also mean severe punishment, torture, and even execution. Torture isn't if you lead a great life. It makes you wish you were dead, though. But when things clear up, you'll feel fine once again. Execution is best if you don't get respect, proper shelter, clothing, food, or water. In this case, Herold would want execution best. Unfortunately, They were smart, and They knew how to make their slaves feel the worst. That counted execution out.
And why did Herold trip anyway? An object laying on the ground is counted out, since about everything in Gorgoth was ash, some cold, hard, black material serving as ground, and humans and Them. Herold had only tripped on himself before when he first became a slave, and with his excellent balance, there was an extremely small chance that that occurred. Even smaller was the possibility of a freak windstorm, but seeing as that was the only remaining option, it must have been the case. Seeing as wind most almost ever constant, a little burst of it would have sufficiently blown Herold over.
But the point is: Herold tripped and his ashes blew away in a gust. And to Them tripping with a bucket of ash meant one thing: Torture.
"One!"
The whip struck Herold's back, and he let out a whimper.
"Two!"
Another, line of flesh shone on his back, intersecting his first.
"Three!"
What drove this fellow slave, anyway? Couldn't he just turn around and strike his nearby master? He looked unarmed, not counting those natural spiked ends on his arms.
"Four!"
He had been carrying 20 lbs. worth of ash. 20 whips accordingly. All more painful than the last, all more angering than before.
"Five!"
He clutched the ropes that bound his hands tighter. The burn was getting to him. He needed relievement. 'Why don't you turn and kill him?' Herold thought. He then hoped that the little trinket in his pocket was still there.
Herold was released from the stake, and sent to work extra hours because of his 'heresy'. 'Heresy hell!' he thought while being dragged along by the afternoon shift. Every so often, he would seem to hallucinate into seeing ash fly by. Ash... Ash... 'Why didn't they just eat all of us and get on with it!' But then again, he thought they would need ash anyway, and were too lazy to get it on their own. That was where they came in. It saddened him that they tried about every other race on the planet for collecting the material... Cats, frogs, whales, the elderly... The elderly. His people were incinerated after age 60, and he didn't think he'd live much longer under the circumstances. So he tried to do the only thing left to actually do.
"Do you need any help?" he said, and walked up to a man who showed signs of age.
"No one helps no one these days," the man replied swiftly.
"How old are you?" Herold inquired again.
The man mumbled, seemingly thinking what to say. Finally, "58."
"And you still don't want any help?"
"No, your just looking to find a chance to humiliate me."
"And what if I'm not?"
But the man just kept on walking. Herold sighed. This was going to be harder than he thought. But he had to share what he had with another. If he didn't, there was no hope for him to retake their race.
__________________
Gruntaloob says: Moo cow!
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12-10-2005, 04:58 PM
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Prophet
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Join Date: Dec 2004
Posts: 499
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{cont.}
Bend down, pick it up, put it in. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Re- Pain.
Herold's hand jerked to his back. A piece of remaining skin had crusted off from some of the area not bloodied up from the whip. He cringed again, holding up the wet flap in front of his face. It dematerialized.
'Those monstrosities will et whatever they can, can't they,' he thought, feeling the warmth of his spinal implant. They didn't seem to possess technology other than that spinal machine here on earth - no, Gorgoth - but must have if they made it to earth from another planet, which they obviously did. And what was their device that brought them here? If he could remember it correctly, it went something like this...
2034, and Herold was driving home in his new car. Not just a normal car, though. This was one of those fancy half boat ones. Yup, the ones shown on the commercials filled with all the hot chicks drinking some alcoholic beverage or another, partying and diving off of it in it's unfolded from. Looked like life was great in this party machine. Hook up with a few babes, watch them dive off it in their bikinis... Yeah, life was about to take a whole new turn with this jet-black baby. Too bad the safety lights went on after 8:00 automatically... That would surely reveal his position.
Life now days was relaxed, and cool. As that author Gary - What was his last name? - had stated, if we let the Earth die, will it effect the grand scheme of the universe? Will any alien races out there truly care if we die? Sounded good to him - it was just an incentive to use up the world without stop. They could kill the fish, eat the meat of near extinct animals, and mine without really upsetting the balance of nature. So much for 'conservationlists'.
Gary's words were widely misinterpreted, Herold thought, thinking back on it now. Only the greatest minds truly comprehended it as the plea to save the world, the thing which it truly was. Sadly, people those days were too self-centered to know much about philosophy, caring only really about fitting in with society, the hottest new cell phones, and the sexiest hook-ups. What really angered Herold was that he once was one of those people. His pain let up a little, so he reached down yet again, picked up some ash, and added more to his first bucket. He then started humming a tune he remembered from when he was young, one that even though he didn't like, still hung around in his head, haunting him, waiting for the right moment to come out and really hit him. While humming it, a tear rolled down his cheek. The irony. He lived a world of relaxation, only to be flung into this barren shell of a world.
So now, all he had to do was head home, catch up on the news, and drive his car around LA honking his horn around the nice hotels. He was off work for the next two days, and he was taking advantage over that and the fact that he was single. Maybe that would score him a girl friend this weekend. True, he was smarter than the average person, which repelled some of the real jocks. But why did he care any way? Their intelligence was... Somewhat limited. He always like musically talented people best. Now there were some people he could relate to. He hoped that someday they could get that damn song out of his head that always popped up when he had nothing better to think of. He tried to think of where he got it, too. The sad thing was that it was probably from some crappy video game from the early 90's.
With his radio blaring some modern music, which at the time was some cross between classical and acid rock, he parked his car on his driveway. He pulled the keys out of the ignition, heard the familiar feminine voice of, "Shutting off," and pushed open the door. He looked out over the ocean, and saw it sparkle in the light of the setting sun. 'Sure looks wondrous,' he said to himself, his view connecting with the lethargic movements of a nearby houseboat. Sure looks wondrous...
'In which a little over 72 hours all changed,' thought Herold, who then went back to the torturous task of picking up ash.
Whips of smoke rose out of fissures in the ground, trying to escape the clutches of the world. The landscape seemed lighter, and Herold slowly realized why. But he was awestruck. It had never happened before, well, not since They took over. It had always been muggy, the sky had always been covered by clouds that, when looking at them an nothing else, seemed like your vision had been reduced to seeing sepia and that only. No sunlight got through. People had long given up hope. Yet there it was, beautiful, shining, and on that particular crew of ash collectors.
The sunlight.
The people of the ash crew dropped their buckets and stopped collecting the black dust. They stood there, paralyzed by the spectacular phenomenon before them. Many cried in joy and danced around, like they had just become the happiest men on the earth - which in fact they were. Others couldn't move at all, but just stared at the surrounding landscape. Where there wasn't ash, they could all see a material they thought died off a lifetime ago - dirt. And one, only one, bore a smile on his face, knowing he had already almost won the battle. People would listen now. They would help. They would understand his purpose.
And it disappeared as suddenly as it came.
Herold felt something resting on his right shoulder.
"Hello," the old man said, "what was that you were going to help me with?"
"Being free," Herold replied. He locked eyes with a man that now had gained confidence. "Let me introduce you to this little trinket I-" And Herold spontaneously combusted.
One bad thing about being a slave was the fact that They watch you all the time. The spinal implants are so natural, it feels as if they aren't really implanted in you spine. It's either this feeling of authenticity or some hormone it injects into your body to think as such. But the true horror of it is that it monitors your every thought. They never really bothered to kill the humans thinking about revolt after the first day of their enslavement, because they soon realized that was always going to be on their minds. Humans that actually carried out the actions were almost always caught. Then, they spontaneously combusted, due to some chemicals injected into their body.
And as the people in the ash crew screamed in horror, one of Them emerged from the ground - a colossal one. He was eyeless, nerveless, and huge. He stood 9ft tall, and had huge, sharp rows of teeth, but otherwise his face was devoid of any organs. He turned and smiled at the old man in an instant too fast to calculate, and said in a voice that sounded like a deep fog horn, "Hello master Hugh, how goes the day?"
Hugh, as his name apparently was, was too scared to do anything but whimper and pee his pants. The huge one of Them seemed to move like lightning, transversing his entire bulk to meet Hugh face to face in half a second, from twenty feet away. "Scared?" It whispered.
Hugh threw his arms up in front of his face, backpedaled, and tripped on a bucket. Panicking, he laid sprawled on the ground, hand in front of his face. The huge thing bit Hugh by the foot, swung him upward, and dropped him into it's jaws. He tilted his head upward, and swallowed. Then it turned towards all the remaining humans around him, and said, "Me and my Gorgs offer our most humble apologies. We regret to inform all you people in ash crew #0048 that you must be killed soon today for witnessing the departing of the clouds. If you will please follow me in an orderly fashion."
By the time the huge Gorg had finished the second sentence however, every one of them was running like mindless insects, running from a predator superior in every way. Gorgon managed a chuckle. How he loved the antics of these humans! Some kid ran down a street, long ago, screaming, "Gorgon! Gorgon!" before it ate him. Scored it's name that instant, since there were a few survivors around... Survivors. That thought made him wince. For some unknown reason, survivors reminded him of tanks, and tanks reminded him of when they shot off a chunk of his body, and that reminded him of a whole bunch of other things he rather not remember.
He decided just to get the job done. Those people would die anyway, and he needed to secure something that even he couldn't survive. He slowly peeled back the burning remains of Herold's corpse and saw it: the mini-nuke. Back in 2026, the Gorgs found out that the humans had made this and realized they were too late in planning an attack, and that it would complicate things. It was used on the place where the meteor brought them in, but by the time it was detonated they had already spread to North America and Europe. He himself actually didn't wind up back on land until a month later, after unfortunately falling into the depths of the Atlantic Ocean.
He balanced the quarter-size device on his massive arm, and warped it into a random spot in the universe. 'So much over something so little,' the monster thought, and dematerialized into the ground again.
__________________
Gruntaloob says: Moo cow!
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12-10-2005, 04:58 PM
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Prophet
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Join Date: Dec 2004
Posts: 499
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{cont.}
The people running knew they were going to die after they realized they were lost. They watching the landscape become noticeably darker and settled down among the ash and the cracked ground to talk some before they perished. So they talked about getting off the planet, and talked about that until they got tired, and then went to sleep. Only then did their bodies burn up, and their ashes spread across the land in the breeze.
Back at the camp that Herold used to work for, the slaves were somewhat surprised at the loss of an entire workers crew. About an hour after they departed, their master rushed them underground, afterwards making a show of some of the stragglers. Why he cooped himself up with humans was a mystery: He viewed them as scum that should be covered with filth and writhing on the ground. He never went too near one, and certainly didn't go near huge crowds of the people. Whatever was happening was obviously a danger to him or his power - by the looks on his face he was also scared. Perhaps it had to do with the crew's disappearance? Whatever the case, the others thought nothing of it.
It was just another normal day, after all.
Chapter 1: Things Known and Unknown
He wasn't tall, and wasn't short either. He wasn't fat, skinny, weak or strong. His hair was without highlights. He had a few scars, and most of his skin was the medium-brown tan most people had these days. His voice was right around the norm - not too deep, not too high. Even his movements were the same as the average person: He seemed to react and think much slower than the normal genius. He looked like the completely average civilian, and there wasn't anything at all to betray him for who and what he really was.
But this man who stumbled through the mists, he might as well have been an army. If he knew.
He used to know every casting imaginable, counter spells for counter spells, summonings and banishing, killing curses and reviving chants. He took down monsters of unimaginable size and stored them in his memory, ready to use again. Talented magicians would feel the slightest aura of supernatural powers around him, but these weren't confirmed on The Machines, and if The Machines said no, it must be false. After all, nothing got past them; be it staves with curthra inside, or pistols so camouflaged that a solid pat down couldn't locate them. Those caught would be burnt in the processing. And if someone was haunted by a demon or the soul of a Gorg , The Machines would effectively eliminate the threat, slowly tearing apart its essence. If there was a war, the machines would move, and they would fight with weapons. Weapons so horrible, so diabolical, that they left nothing where they touched. Not just no person. Not just no air. Nothing. So if they were things that could puncture holes in space/time, why hadn't they detected the power in that man?
He risked his life for countless people. Most that he didn't even know - they were just people put in jail for speaking out, nothing more. To remind the people of Earth of the Gorgs on the other side of the world was heresy. So the people were imprisoned for warning others of the danger, and were to be executed by The Machines - but not if he could help it.
Oh, he remembered the basics. Hundreds of years earlier, a group of Aliens called Gorgs invaded Earth. They enslaved all able races and killed all the unable. The enslaved had a spinal implant, one that would monitor their movements and sight. Black clouds swarmed the sky, and it rained ash every 8th day. The crews would collect outward, heaving in buckets of the ash for the Gorgs to eat. It was hard work, and extremely laborious. The slaves wouldn't get any breaks, ate twice a day, and were eaten or spontaneously combusted as punishment for serious crimes.
One such serious crime was possessing a mini-nuke, and as it turned out, there were more of those around than thought of by the Gorgs. Developed in 2026, the Gorgs, who had been observing the humans, knew by then that they had waited too long to invade. They plotted a direct route to Earth, but unfortunately the theory of relativity applied to them too. It took them until 2034 to crash and invade, and the so called 'landing zone' of theirs was nuked a day after they arrived. But sadly, most of the Gorgs had already made it off Greenland by that time. They invaded North America, and both sides took heavy casualties. The enemy seemed unorganized, and victory looked near. And then they seemed to become just so must smarter. No longer did waves of their armies come crashing head-on towards cities. No longer did they die in the hundreds. Tactics seemingly changed overnight, starting with the assault on New York and Washington D.C. For the first two days, their troops started what seemed like yet another dumb attack. While the armies of the Americas were drawn towards USA's largest city, a secondary attack crippled America's capital. While back-ups from New York were drawn off to Washington, the Gorgs at New York unleashed what was the first magic the people of the planet had ever seen.
To commoners, magic was the most looked up to and mythical defense humans seemed to have. The truth was, pistols and guns were far more effective than magic ever was, not counting the select few who were so skilled in it, they were able to stifle all technology around them. And what was magic truly? Simply psychic powers. As discovered after the humans took back about half of the world, everyone had those powers. It was just most could not properly stimulate them. However, as more and more people became interested in magic and what it was, more and more masters appeared. They properly trained their pupils where to find that hidden energy in their brains. At first, they manipulated very light objects, such as strings and feathers. Then the load gradually got heavier and heavier, and when the students finally managed a brick, they were taught to control the elements. First was the simple task of lighting a candle from a distance of about one meter, and then from two, then three. After that, they were forced to put out the candle. Masters showed them how to form water out of the moisture in the air, or make small gusts of wind, or to drain the oxygen out of that particular area. Then the apprentice would perform a variety of strange tasks, each one becoming greater and greater. Some were so different, it took students years to even grasp their concepts. And then, when the student could finally levitate a rock held in place by their master's will, they were free to go.
But the magic the Gorgs used that day in New York was much different from that of the human's of the day. Only a few of humanity had also mastered their spells, which involved bursting organs and pressurizing small areas of air. There was also the spell that could make certain materials materialize in thin air - and they knew which ones created explosions. More evil still was a spell that instantly killed someone, leaving no evidence of what caused the death. It was one of their most simple castings.
And on that day, in New York, not a single human survived. The pilot who nuked the city the next day said that the surrounding land and water was red, and that there was no apparent harm done to any of the vehicles before he dropped the bomb. It was information that haunted humanity, as it struggled to survived. North America fell, then Europe and Australia. Without the richer countries around, the remaining world was slaughtered. Even the few scientists hiding in Antarctica were purged from their holes. And when the day came that the world crumbled, the Gorgs took it up and made it their own, enslaving the humans and forcing them to do about everything that could be done. The world was covered in plague clouds, and hope was non-existent.
Or so the humans thought.
In 2054, a group of rebels captured a slavery den and killed the Gorg in command - and with the death of their master, the death of the power to activate the spinal plants in those slaves. They evacuated the facilities, and when Gorgs finally arrived to investigate, a mini-nuke went off. The same was done to many more facilities, until the Gorgs realized they needed defenses. The and their bulks became contempt once again with their hold on the world, until a kamikaze attack swept through the east cost of what used to be the US and the east cost of what was Asia. A single human walked up to the perimeter, was lasered, and blew up with the bomb in his/her hand. The perimeter was breached, and another rebel near by signaled for the slaves to escape.
__________________
Gruntaloob says: Moo cow!
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12-10-2005, 04:59 PM
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Prophet
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Join Date: Dec 2004
Posts: 499
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{cont.}
But the Gorgs were prepared for an attack, and small armies were deployed to catch the runaways. The humans were not prepared for a fight, but put one up none the less. The people escaping from old US were all killed, brutally and in much pain. Some were eaten, some beat, and some mangled by magic. But what was done to the humans of the US was done to the Gorgs of Asia. The humans held a material that would later be known as Curthra, and all the spells and attacks aimed at them backfired and hurt the offensive. After learning how well this worked, humans freed Asia and Europe, and after the first few attempts of trying to stop them, the Gorgs knew they couldn't win. So they did what any smart enemy would do: They retreated, and their clouds went with them. By 2100 A.D, The Gorgs were limited to North America and South America, but while retreating across the Atlantic and Pacific Valley, they attempted to refill the oceans. The humans, having no boat to get across to the Americas with, were stuck on one half of the world, while Gorgs controlled another.
Since then, strange cultures had evolved, magic was practiced and refined, pistols that fired bullets of Curthra were invented, and in 2113, Humans declared a new time period. In the age of A.I, (after invasion) the humans became near the Gorg's equals in combat. So what stopped them from Simply invading Gorgotha? The fact that soon after A.I. was declared, Gorgs learned how to stop the effects of Curthra - get Curthra themselves. It neutralized an opponent's Curthra, therefore rendering the metal worthless to skirmishes where both sides possessed the metal. That discovery forced the two halves of the world into a stability - neither was stupid enough to invade the other. And so the world evolved, each side not knowing what the other had in it's power. Some great scientists and psychics were born, each one making a great discovery or two and passing away.
And now, in 1846 A.I, a man from Earth crossed into Gorgotha for the first time in a few a thousand years. The air went from cold to stuffy, polluted, and warm. A passing Gorg would have the power to kill him, and he knew it. What caused him to do it? The lost memories of his, hidden deep down within his brain, forgotten after centuries of living. He knew there were things that he couldn't remember there, too. It was a lump of history, but mysteriously inaccessible. But one small fact would help him regain those memories. One small fact - that no one knew, and he doubted was actually recorded. It was never easy to do something on Earth anyway; The Machines patrolled the land searching for wrong doers. Because of their limited intelligence, that was pretty much everybody out and about. But this was particularly hard, because no one had said what he wanted for over 1500 years.
And when he found his name, he would kill them. The Gorgs, The Machines, and Dr. Bi, their inventor. And of course, the reason why so many humans had died over the past 1900 years.
Gorgon, the Dark Lord of the Gorgs.
Gruntaloob added a whole lot on afterwords, and so did I... I hope this can still be non-halo. 
__________________
Gruntaloob says: Moo cow!
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12-10-2005, 05:46 PM
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Prophet
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Join Date: Sep 2005
Posts: 4,800
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Thanks, very good Rp writing. Level 10.
__________________
IT ISN'T!
Just a one-sided VER-SION!
WE'VE DEALT!
With a manic SUB-VER-SION!
AND I WON'T!
Let the truth be PER-VERT-ED!
AND I WON'T LEAVE ANOTHER VICTIM DES-ERT-ED!
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12-13-2005, 12:12 AM
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Council Member
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Join Date: May 2005
Posts: 2,234
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Cassidy got up from the rubble. He was aware of the death and destruction around him, but no longer cared. He raised his Sniper Rifle and Shot at an Elite crawling away from the battle. No sooner had he done that than he felt a bullet pierce his shoulder. A bullet?, he thought. There were no more Humans left.... Flood.... The thought intruded his mind, as another shot hit his leg. He was losing consciousness, and a dark circle was forming around his vision. He took out his Battle Rifle, killed the Flood, and drifted back into his sleep....
The Infection Forms crawled over the Drinol by the hundreds. His huge arms were useless against them, as everytime he swung at a Flood digging into his skin, he killed it, but injured himself even more. He was getting more furious by the minute. These things were attacking him, and he wanted them to stop. But they were relentless, and finally, he gave into death as the Infection Forms began fighting each other for the rights to the body. One lucky parasite made it in, and the Drinol's body gave one last enormous shudder as the infection process began.
'Surnamee swung his sword in attempt to intimidate the Jackals surrounding him. Their weapons were borken, from being smashed by the Flood. But they had the advantage in numbers, and would viciously attack 'Surnamee in packs of twos and threes. They had destroyed his energy shield generator. All he could do was kill any that came enar him. Again, a small portion of the Jackals jumped at him, one biting his leg until the armor cracked. He killed them all, but more Jackals jumped on his back while he was distracted. He couldn't do anything about them. One got its teeth on 'Surnamee's jugular vein, piercing it, and 'Surnamee slowly fell into death, killing every Jackal he could.
Master Chief reloaded his Battle Rifle, giving the signal for the marines accompanying him to follow closely behind. They walked quietly in the shadows, and exited the building they were occupying. Master Chief opened a ComLink with the leader the Marines. "I need to break away from the group. Keep watch. These snipers will kill you before you can blink." "Yes sir!" was the reply. The Spartan snuck off into an alley, guided by Cortana's sub-program she had created when they seperated. "Turn left here." He complied, and found himself in front of an ancient building. He nodded. This is what they were looking for. He entered, killing every Covenant in there. He walked into the middle of the room, and found it.
__________________
Life is a tragedy to those who feel, and a comedy to those who think.
The government is controlled by extremists because moderates have shit to do.
Aren't Agnostics just Atheists without balls?
The stories of my life
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12-13-2005, 12:21 AM
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Prophet
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Join Date: Sep 2005
Posts: 4,800
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Quote:
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Originally Posted by bipedalcow
Cassidy got up from the rubble. He was aware of the death and destruction around him, but no longer cared. He raised his Sniper Rifle and Shot at an Elite crawling away from the battle. No sooner had he done that than he felt a bullet pierce his shoulder. A bullet?, he thought. There were no more Humans left.... Flood.... The thought intruded his mind, as another shot hit his leg. He was losing consciousness, and a dark circle was forming around his vision. He took out his Battle Rifle, killed the Flood, and drifted back into his sleep....
The Infection Forms crawled over the Drinol by the hundreds. His huge arms were useless against them, as everytime he swung at a Flood digging into his skin, he killed it, but injured himself even more. He was getting more furious by the minute. These things were attacking him, and he wanted them to stop. But they were relentless, and finally, he gave into death as the Infection Forms began fighting each other for the rights to the body. One lucky parasite made it in, and the Drinol's body gave one last enormous shudder as the infection process began.
'Surnamee swung his sword in attempt to intimidate the Jackals surrounding him. Their weapons were borken, from being smashed by the Flood. But they had the advantage in numbers, and would viciously attack 'Surnamee in packs of twos and threes. They had destroyed his energy shield generator. All he could do was kill any that came enar him. Again, a small portion of the Jackals jumped at him, one biting his leg until the armor cracked. He killed them all, but more Jackals jumped on his back while he was distracted. He couldn't do anything about them. One got its teeth on 'Surnamee's jugular vein, piercing it, and 'Surnamee slowly fell into death, killing every Jackal he could.
Master Chief reloaded his Battle Rifle, giving the signal for the marines accompanying him to follow closely behind. They walked quietly in the shadows, and exited the building they were occupying. Master Chief opened a ComLink with the leader the Marines. "I need to break away from the group. Keep watch. These snipers will kill you before you can blink." "Yes sir!" was the reply. The Spartan snuck off into an alley, guided by Cortana's sub-program she had created when they seperated. "Turn left here." He complied, and found himself in front of an ancient building. He nodded. This is what they were looking for. He entered, killing every Covenant in there. He walked into the middle of the room, and found it.
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You are a level 10. Congrats.
__________________
IT ISN'T!
Just a one-sided VER-SION!
WE'VE DEALT!
With a manic SUB-VER-SION!
AND I WON'T!
Let the truth be PER-VERT-ED!
AND I WON'T LEAVE ANOTHER VICTIM DES-ERT-ED!
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12-14-2005, 09:46 PM
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Prophet
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Join Date: Apr 2005
Posts: 1,307
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He See's a trowing knife going right at him he doges it and he can see his reflection on the blade. The knife hits a collasle rock and it falls down a barbarion runs up to him and tries to stab him he doges that stab and hans hits the barbarion with the handle of the claymore he falls down and hans stabs him on the top of his head. he continiues on his quest and he finds millions and hundreds of people with there long blades and shields. but he is facing the wrong direction one soldier runs up to him and hans turns around with a quik slash of his blade he chops of his head. now he is facing the soldeirs. All of the soldeirs ran up to him he just stood there as they came. he got in battle mode and waited once they were close enough with his sword pointing forward he killde 3 or 4 people like that but there was to many to keep on like that. he his mask and kept fighting for hours untill they were all dead. he heard a noise and he saw a arow going twoards him he leans back and the tip of the aroow cuts his nose small drops of blood comes of his nose. he runs for cover as many arows fling twoards him he finds a rock and throws it blindly. the rock hits the arow and he takes his chance to run over there the archer see's him up close and he takes out a small dagger. hans puts his swoard to the side and runs as fast as he can and holding the swoard with a strong grip. the archer didn't know what to do when hans got there he cut his dagger in half and sliced the archer in half blood sprays allo over the place. he gets his shirt and he cleans the blood off. then he takes a rest
__________________
^Banana^
^if you dont like tacos get out of my face^
mm TACOS!^.^
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12-14-2005, 09:50 PM
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Prophet
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Join Date: Sep 2005
Posts: 4,800
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Quote:
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Originally Posted by joey8
He See's a trowing knife going right at him he doges it and he can see his reflection on the blade. The knife hits a collasle rock and it falls down a barbarion runs up to him and tries to stab him he doges that stab and hans hits the barbarion with the handle of the claymore he falls down and hans stabs him on the top of his head. he continiues on his quest and he finds millions and hundreds of people with there long blades and shields. but he is facing the wrong direction one soldier runs up to him and hans turns around with a quik slash of his blade he chops of his head. now he is facing the soldeirs. All of the soldeirs ran up to him he just stood there as they came. he got in battle mode and waited once they were close enough with his sword pointing forward he killde 3 or 4 people like that but there was to many to keep on like that. he his mask and kept fighting for hours untill they were all dead. he heard a noise and he saw a arow going twoards him he leans back and the tip of the aroow cuts his nose small drops of blood comes of his nose. he runs for cover as many arows fling twoards him he finds a rock and throws it blindly. the rock hits the arow and he takes his chance to run over there the archer see's him up close and he takes out a small dagger. hans puts his swoard to the side and runs as fast as he can and holding the swoard with a strong grip. the archer didn't know what to do when hans got there he cut his dagger in half and sliced the archer in half blood sprays allo over the place. he gets his shirt and he cleans the blood off. then he takes a rest
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Acceptable, but, it should be in past-tence... Also use more punctuation. Level 1
__________________
IT ISN'T!
Just a one-sided VER-SION!
WE'VE DEALT!
With a manic SUB-VER-SION!
AND I WON'T!
Let the truth be PER-VERT-ED!
AND I WON'T LEAVE ANOTHER VICTIM DES-ERT-ED!
Last edited by Dark Energy : 12-17-2005 at 05:09 PM.
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