Tuesday, 26 June 2012

There is no Excuse.

There is no Excuse for the laziness I am experiencing.

I have barely written ANYTHING the last two weeks.

I am a disgrace to writers.

But in my defence, no one else seems to blog that much recently either.

Lynxia and Lavender are about it.

Needless to say, I am very disappointed in you; Thrust, Ink, Nix, Mist, L, (I cant scold THE MASTER publicly), Helena, Fanatic, and Luna.

(You may not use my own words against me. Insult me in some other way.)

But I have realized, that every post doesnt have to contain a story, now does it?

So here is me saying there is no Excuse...




And one more Lord Vlaedr related joke....
Now THAT is a REAL man.


Never charge me with a bat.


(wow! I have 11 followers. wow! I am famous!)

Thursday, 7 June 2012

Heya. Um..... 1866!

Mount and Blade. The best game ever made.


If you don't know it... well....

Get to know it!

Its amazing.

Especially all the mods you can get for it.

1866 Western.

Star Wars.

Lord of the Rings.


Well my friends, its been a shortish journey, full of adventures and mayham.

But the time has come to say goodbye to Lord Vlaedr.

Don't get me wrong. I LOVE VLAEDR.

But this is the last chapter of Part One.

Enjoy, and writhe with burning questions & mysterious mysteries.

Chapter Nine: Down Under....

Another two hours and a completely new car later, and they were back in business. It took them an hour to get to their location. This time, no explosives.

“So that was a lackey, as you call it, of Yslock?” Vlaedr whispered, his shotgun out and sweeping his immediate surroundings.

“Yes,” Skai replied, in the same hushed tone. His great-sword was in his hands, held ready. “But I am still not sure why he attacked us.”

They were in a small warehouse, in-land from the Sanctuary. The Sanctuary doctors had patched them up, and then Vlaedr and Skai were put in charge of extracting information out of the dying man. That information led them here.

“I thought you said that the prey, I mean, the man had told you that he worked for Yslock. So why did he attack us?” Vlaedr checked behind a crate and kept moving.

“Why don’t you listen? You were right there. He was even speaking to you. His words were: Yslock has something planned for you. Something horrible. Something that meant I had to try to stop him, or everyone was going to die. Including Yslock. And then he died. Remember that?” Skai scanned behind them, rotating his wrist muscles and the sword in small circles.

“I remember. Him dying, that is. I am horrible at socializing.” Vlaedr said, walking up to a blackened door. “Five dollars says that something interesting is behind this door.”

Skai smiled. “We are in Brazil, they don’t use dollars.” He opened the door, revealing a small, bare room that contained nothing but a rubber bone. Vlaedr frowned. Skai smiled wider. “You would have lost five dollars.”

Vlaedr walked into the room, Skai watching the door. The walls were cold, and hard, made from a strange material. Vlaedr frowned deeper. He walked towards the rubber bone. Something wasn’t right. Everything that had happened so far. Some element just didn’t fit.

He tried to link his thoughts. Skai. Burning sensation. Ring. Traps at every corner. Skai. Wounds. The dead.  Hotel burning. Skai....  Mysterious Skai. Never fighting, Skai. SKAI.

Vlaedr shouted, backing away from the bone, and turned towards Skai.

His sword was at his side, his smile growing wider, unnaturally wide. Then he laughed, as the door closed with a deep shudder. The laugh continued, amplified into the small room by speakers. A live image of Skai’s face was blown up against the wall, projected out of a small hole in the opposite wall.

“Poor, poor Vlaedr. So new to this world. So young. So strong. Sooooo naive.” The unnatural smile unnerved Vlaedr. The smile was too wide, the teeth too cat-like. He didn’t like cats. He hated them almost as much as Vampires.

Vlaedr growled, settling into a deep crouch. The laugh grew. “Growl all you want, my little pet, but you won’t be able to tear your way out of this prison. Those burnt marks on the door show that neither can anything get in. You and I are going to have a lot of fun together.”

Fury boiled in Vlaedr. His eyes grew luminous. “How could you do this, Skai! I trusted you! I would have died for you!”

Yslock stopped laughing, still smiling and thoroughly amused by events. “I doubt that very much. I am not sure what can kill you. Yet.”

Vlaedr calmed down with great effort, thinking.

“My dear creature, you are so deluded. Haven’t you noticed by now? I would have thought you would be able to smell the blood difference between me and Vesalda.”

“I did. I assumed one of you was adopted.” Vlaedr said, glaring with all he had. His eyes started glowing brighter.

“Nope. First mistake, assuming. Never assume in this world. It will get you in nasty situations. Second mistake, thinking I am Skai.” And then, before Vlaedr’s eyes, Skai’s features twisted and melted. When the transformation was finished, a familiar face lay before Vlaedr’s eyes. It was Varoque.

Later, after being knocked out by gas, Vlaedr was sitting in his cell, in the corner. He didn’t boil with anger. He didn’t tear at the walls with his fury.

He relaxed.

He let nothing enter his mind, and he let nothing exit it. Everything he was, wanted to be, and everything at present, all swirled in a giant cauldron of thoughts. He examined everything, letting nothing pass through his gaze.

Through hours and days, he sat there. And thought. And meditated. And examined himself. And never did he move. Not once.

And so time passed. And with it came many strange things.

People came in and out of the cell. Prodded him. Cut him. Drew blood. Injected fluids. Hit him. Talked to him. Shouted at him.

And still he did not move. His mind swirled, passing through passages and hallways, carving paths into the rugged parts of his mind where he had never gone before.

And still time passed.

After exactly 5 days, 6 hours, 32 minutes and 17 seconds he found it. What he was looking for. His magic. His true self. What he really was.

He stood up, his eyes glowing, body surging with power he never knew he had. But he had found it. He gazed around his cell, eyes never dimming with their luminous green. They were going to stay that way.

Everything changed. No longer was he just a creation. But he was also something special. He had something else. Something that seemed rare in this  world.

He had found his power. He had examined himself, and found it. But he had also found his problem. The ring. It wasn’t made right. Varoque hadn’t made it right. Its magic was twisted. A rune off. A glyph wrong.

And that had awakened his magic. His OWN magic.

Something snapped. Something in him changed. Something that used to be his inner child. It grew and grew. Until it became hatred. Hatred for Varoque. Something dark.

And with that, Vlaedr had his purpose. Varoque. Scimitar Yslock. Whoever it was, they were going down. Hard. Beast style.

He had never felt like this before. Purposeful. Doing what he wanted. Not forced into something. Not being led.

He walked to where the door was. He had marked it once it had smoothly slid into the wall. He had marked so he could find it later. And he had marked it with all he had at that moment. He had marked with.... his urine.

He located the spot, ignoring the strong smell. He frowned and extended his paw-hand, lightly touching where the door was. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Then the door blew up.

He picked himself up, coughing in shock. Surely I am not THAT powerful, he thought, examining his claw-hand with new interest.

“Come on!” A female voice reached his ringing ears. He looked up. Vesalda stood there, another great-sword in her hands, this one more slender, but similar to Skai’s. “What are you waiting for?! We have to get out of here!”

So much for instantaneous power, he thought grumpily. He was out of the cell and next to her in a flash, his shotgun in his hands. She wrinkled her nose. “What is that smell?”

“Don’t ask,” he muttered as they ran, shooting or cutting down everything in their path. Vlaedr laughed, kicking and shouting with all he had at whatever tried to stop him. He didn’t even know what he was killing. He didn’t care. He was doing what he had been created for.

They made it out into the sunshine, a helicopter already lifting off. My ears must be still in shock. I didn’t hear it at all, he thought dejectedly. They jumped in as it lifted off, Vlaedr giving Vesalda a hand.

“It’s my private helicopter. Silenced.” She explained to his confused expression.

“What now? What do we do now?” He asked, staring down at the disappearing warehouse.

She smiled and patted Vlaedr’s thick arm.

“We go down under..... We need allies for this battle. We can’t do this with just the South American Sanctuary.”She smiled that beautiful smile again. “And thanks.”

“For what?” But she was already looking away, staring into the rising rays of the sun, preparing for the coming battles. And so Vlaedr joined her.

Pretty awesome right? When I started this chapter I had no idea how it was going to go. No idea how it would end. I LITERALLY surprised myself when I wound up writing the horrible twist. It was hilarious.

You had to be there.

Anyway, nothing is as it seems. This ending is actually just a beginning. I used part one to introduce Lord Vlaedr. I can now safely assume that you understand him pretty well.

I will start posting Part Two soon. The thing is, the internet STILL dies randomly. The wireless router is fried....


Saturday, 2 June 2012

Oh, my oh my.......

Why did I write that ^ ? I dont know.

It fits in my mind, I guess.

Now, down to business. I will have to address two things. Two little small things.

First - COMMENT. I really don't learn about my mistakes in my writing if you don't COMMENT. Tell your friends to come and read this weird blog, and tell them to COMMENT. Thank you.

Second - I realise my writing style might look weird. Well thats cause it is. You see, I write the chapter, then I check for spelling mistakes, and then I move on. This blog is where I literally just throw down my writing creativity and practice the art of making words show stories. Get it? This is just me practicing, while I write my REAL book. Comprende?

Now. I do believe you deserve a chapter after that harsh scolding.


Chapter Eight: Old-Bony-People-Of-Little-Meat

“I can fade. My body and anything I concentrate on will fade, become ethereal.” Vlaedr and Skai walked down the corridor, Skai recounting his adventures. “And so, I heard the sound before you did, and had already reacted.”

Sorrow crossed his face and he stopped, turning to Vlaedr. “I have been mourning your death ever since. Nothing I have ever heard of could survive something like that. Nothing.” 

A smile crossed his face. “But you seem anything like something no one has heard of.”

Vlaedr blushed, not used to this sort of affection. Skai continued walking. “I went down two floors before I reached a non-volcanic corridor. Whoever wanted us dead, has resources and a reason to keep us away from Rio De Janeiro. We have to find out who this is.”

“Don’t these types of bad guys always have resources? AND a reason to keep other good guys away?” Vlaedr asked, dryly.

Skai laughed. “You are new to this world, and yet you already start noticing patterns. That is good. Like a newborn, starting to learn how to take its first steps in this new world.”

Vlaedr frowned. “You just called me a baby. A baby that is learning to walk. That is seriously condescending.”

Skai lead the way through two, large double-doors, and into a grand hall. Massive pillars rose to the ceiling, with a plush, long carpet leading down the hall to three rather “grand” thrones. On those thrones, sat three old and.... “grand”-looking mages.

“The Grand Mages of this Santuary?” Vlaedr muttered out of the side of his mouth.

“Yes.” Skai shot back, as they walked towards them.

“I would never have guessed...” Vlaedr muttered again, dreading another long talk with old-bony-people-of-little-meat. Grand Mages. He reminded himself. They are called Grand Mages, not old-bony-people-of-little-meat.

Two hours, four cups of coffee, three and a half dinners, and one car later, they were on their way.

The Sanctuary had provided them with a rental car, clothes, food (no people), and communication-device-speaker-things. Skai called them “phones”. Whatever that meant.

“So. Bad guy = Scimitar Yslock?

Motive = Is building magical creatures to rule Earth?

Supporting Detail =  Used to work with Varoque?!

Complication = Wants ME???!!!”

Vlaedr thought about his words for a few moments.

“Yes, sadly yes, and Hell YEAH.” Skai confirmed. He turned into a brighter neighbourhood, weaving in-between pedestrians in the street, dancing and celebrating something. Brazilians always seemed to celebrate something.

“So why the HELL did he try to kill me and you? Is he an extremely stupid bad guy?” Vlaedr asked, grumpy. The dancers resembled cocktail snacks. The type he had seen in that wonderful club.

“No, as it turns out, he is actually pretty smart. He needs a powerful army of supernatural creatures to kill and do his bidding, probably met with strong resistance. How better to test your abilities than to see if you survived that explosion? If you had died, then you wouldn’t have been very useful to him.”

“Yes, being dead does that to you.” Vlaedr muttered angrily, refusing to make “being Mr. Know-It-All” easy for Skai.

“You know, you never did tell me your whole story. Who Varoque is and what you are....” Skai said, finally breaking free of the crowd and turning down a street with little coffee-shops.

“If I told you my whole story, I would have no secrets. I like keeping secrets. It makes me feel mysterious and powerful. Plus, neither have you.” Vlaedr growled. He just noticed that all the little coffee-shops seemed to consist of old-bony-people-of-little-meat. And he was hungry. AGAIN.

Skai smiled and turned to say something to Vlaedr. Then the car suddenly decided to do a barrel-roll, followed by head-spin.

Vlaedr roared and kicked the warped door into a coffee-shop, sending the old-bony-people-of-little-meat scattering. “STOP BLOWING STUFF UP AROUND ME! IT ANNOYS ME!”

Another explosion, right in front of Vlaedr’s feet. Vlaedr went crashing into a coffee-shop behind him. He felt a shard of hot metal follow his trajectory, twisting to the side as it passed. An edge caught him on the cheek, slicing from his chin, over the edge of his mouth, and up his cheek.

Skai appeared in front of Vlaedr, and helped him up. Vlaedr felt at his cheek, a sharp pain immediately registering as he touched the wide, cauterized slit. Vlaedr roared so loudly, the remaining windows in the shop blew out. Skai went flying, as Vlaedr pushed him aside.

“THE GLOVES ARE OFF! I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF BEING PUSHED AROUND!” And so, off came the gloves. Or the ring.

The creature raised it large head, gazing up with hatred, in the form of glowing green eyes. He found the petty meat-snack, way up high, standing on one of the roofs with a long cylinder weapon. Vlaedr smelled fear.

He bounded forward on all fours, running to the base of the building that held the prey. A flash of light and another explosive object came flying his way. But this time, a lot slower. Vlaedr jumped straight up, snapping shut his massive jaws on to the flaming object. He landed on his hind-legs, and grabbed the object with his paw, sending it flying back to its maker.

The prey moved too slowly. Way too slow.

A chunk of the roof was torn out of the building, sending it, and the prey, plummeting down. Vlaedr was already moving. He was in the cloud of asphalt falling towards the ground, grabbing his prey around the chest. He landed and shook his head, throwing the pathetic hunter into a car.

A flashing-light-car came speeding up to Vlaedr, smacking him backwards. But Vlaedr had enough. He flipped in his backwards motion, landing in a crouch, moving before the car even stopped moving. Digging in with his claws, Vlaedr hit the car with a great force, making a massive dent. Vlaedr roared again, a fearful thing of anger and hunger. Then he grabbed under the bonnet and strained with all his strength.

The car rose into the air.

He roared again, triumph shining in his eyes. Then, with a final heave, the car flew backwards, through the third-floor window of one of the coffee-shops. “No!” Skai shouted, coughing as he made his way out of one of the buildings. He was ignored.

Vlaedr slowly padded back towards the motionless figure; the hunter. As he came closer, the human opened its eyes and emitted a moan. Vlaedr was mesmerized the way the human froze as he neared it, and the dread that seeped into his eyes. He opened his jaws wide, letting the human see every single gleaming tooth he had.

“NO!!!” It was Skai again. This time Vlaedr turned. “Vlaedr, where are you? This isn’t Vlaedr. I know it isn’t! Where is your humanity?! You are letting your  Beast control you!”

The Beast fought a bit more, but Vlaedr always had more control. More strength. His eyes dimmed to a glow. Then he slowly nodded his thanks to Skai. Skai sighed, and walked over to the dying man. Vlaedr padded off to find his ring.

A strange burning swarmed Vlaedr as he put on the ring. He frowned as he straightened his clothes and pulled out the larger chunks of shrapnel. Something isn’t right. He thought. He heard Skai talking to the man. I’ll worry about it later.

He walked slowly to the pair, as his battered body began healing. He felt his cheek, the way the hot metal had cut deep but immediately burned its path shut. It was painful, and something that his healing wouldn’t heal. Ever.

A Battle Scar. He liked that idea.

But even though everything was in control, and the battle won, something still felt  horribly wrong.
I love the name of this chapter.

And how it sets in motion the horrible ending.....

And for the love of talking skeletons and flaming mockingjays, COMMENT!