+- SilentEternity 3.0 (http://silenteternity.net)
+-- Forum: Non-Gaming Media (/forumdisplay.php?fid=3)
+--- Forum: Literature (/forumdisplay.php?fid=24)
+--- Thread: Kalas' Writing Exploits (/showthread.php?tid=43)
Pages: 1 2
RE: Kalas' Writing Exploits - WeAreNobody - 15-11-2014 08:47 PM
Me too! Absolutely my favorite series. I'll definitely check out Among Thieves, working at a book store lets me rent books as much as I want (;
And once again very good read, love the depth and flow. I actually read it before work and again after
The setting I loved, the system you have reminds me of the garristas but with your own spin on it and definitely caught my eye. And your first person is going good, no over use of "I" and "me." This present was awesome, definitely making me swoon
RE: Kalas' Writing Exploits - Razgriz - 02-12-2014 06:53 PM
Prologue and chapter, elegantly written and vividly described. Much applause on working on the difficult perspective of first person.
RE: Kalas' Writing Exploits - Kalas - 02-12-2014 07:04 PM
I'm glad you guys like it.
I've been writing it casually for now, adding bits here and there to keep my interest peaked. I'm finding myself gradually more comfortable with first person. It feels as if I'm just speaking my mind. Haha! I suppose I've managed to immersed myself into the character more than I originally thought I would.
RE: Kalas' Writing Exploits - Kalas - 06-12-2014 01:03 AM
So as some of you might know...I HATE Christmas. But that doesn't stop me from giving out presents. So here's an early one for y'all. I'll probably have more for you in time for the big day.
Chapter 1 Pt.2
* * * * *
* * * * *
The room was chaos. There were bodies everywhere and a loud raucous that generally accompanied the gathering of so many people. Shadowed guards lined the four walls, each one holding up a torch to light the room, blades sheathed at their sides with a cautionary hand placed on the hilt and watchful eyes. In the center of the room was a large wooden table that stretched from one side of the room to the other. It was filled with various pieces of parchment, short knives, platters of food and tankards of beer. Surrounding the table were high-backed wooden chairs. There were only two that were empty, Gibari’s and mine, which was situated at the head of the table. Gibari’s was on the right side. The rest was filled by the men and women who called themselves my Lowers and Bosses. Thieves, Bladesmen, Mistresses and Conmen. Every person in the room worked for me. Each of them criminals, crooks and villains. There’s a certain word for the feeling you get when you walk into a room like that, but alas, it escapes me.
A low growl from Gibari as he clears his throat instantly silences the room. Everyone at the table turns to face us. I give them my trademark smile. Despite their petulant bickering, I’m always happy to see them all alive and well. “Well if it isn’t our gracious Prince, late as usual.” Announced Devin, rolling his eyes as he said so. A Lowerman, he runs all of the thief operations within the Cordon and even those that extend beyond. All except for Tenjin’s, though, I prefer to keep a direct hand on that one. Which Devin absolutely hates and, as such, shows blatant distaste towards me for, among other reasons. That’s partly the reason why I keep it to myself.
“Oui, but at least he is always fashionably so.” Chimed Pierre. My second Lowerman and the resident Conman and Fence of my outfit. If you think a market deal is too good to be true, it is. That’s because Pierre is no doubt behind it. He runs the ‘legitimate’ side of my operations. Shops, stalls, travelling merchants. You name it, he’s got a hand behind it. He also handles the fencing for most of the Corden, he has contacts overseas where he ships most of the items to for a healthy sum. He’s a smooth-talking, smartly-dressed man who speaks with a silk-like foreign accent. Overall, I like him because he makes me a lot of money. However, he is a well-known kiss-ass but that’s not terribly bad, is it?
“And, as usual, your distaste for him is as repugnant as ever, Devin.” A woman stood up from her chair. She was beautiful and, as such, her beauty commanded the attention of everyone in the room. Even the other woman, who secretly envied her illustrious looks. As she turned to face me, I couldn’t help myself but gaze at her voluptuous figure, wrapped in an elegant blood-red bodice and flowing skirt which came decorated with black lace. It covered all the right parts and showed just enough skin to keep me interested. Lady Jezebelle, quite possibly the only member of nobility to reside within the Undercroft. Her face was likely more well-known than my own, accompanied by her seductively dark locks of hair. She was my Head Mistress and the crown jewel of my thriving brothel-house business. She was another of my Lowermen but she’d be dead before she allowed anyone to refer to her as such, even me. I smiled as I regarded her and nodded slightly. Jezebelle walked over to where I was stood, paying no heed to the watchful eyes of the room. Even Gibari couldn’t help but gawp.
As she stood in front of me, she pulled me close with one hand and planted a kiss right on my lips. I began to kiss her back, which resulted in a dance of tongues but I refrained from touching her, even despite my usually untameable urges. There’s a time and a place for such things. None of which matter to her, however. With her free hand she reached down towards my crotch and gave me a slow ‘Good to see you’. But, before I knew it, it was all over. By the time I’d opened my eyes she had already moved on to give Gibari a simple kiss on the cheek and I was left slightly flustered and somewhat longing. But the pair of us simply watched as she sauntered back to her seat.
“If you’re expecting me to do the same, you can get well and truly fucked!” Came a sudden voice, cutting through the wave of whispers that had arisen after the Jezebelle’s display. It was Zeth. Lounging nonchalantly upon his seat. One leg strewn over the right arm of the chair while the other draped to the floor. He was my fourth and final Lowerman. Head of the Bladesmen, Master of Assassins and, generally, a pain in my ass. He was a few years younger than I was, whereas the others were all older. Zeth and I got on well, he was practically a little brother to me, which is why I allowed him to speak to me the way that he does. But that’s not to say I didn’t get him back for it.
“Now, now. If I wanted you to do that I would have put you in charge of the Brothels. But, unfortunately, you’re not even half as beautiful as our lovely Lady here.” I said, gesturing to Jezebelle, who only smiled at my compliment.
“Or you could just put me in charge of them anyway and you can keep the ‘lovely Lady’ to yourself.” He retorted, still annoyed at me for not appointing him the position. It was for a good reason. He’s worse than Gibari and I combined, meaning that he would have fucked over half of the girls at once and my Brothel-Houses would be bankrupt within a month.
“Aye, I could, but then you wouldn’t be as annoyed as you are now. And where’s the fun in that?” He shot me an icy glare but I knew that he was only playing along.
“You must ‘old your ‘orses little Blademaster, our Prince knows exactly what he’s doing.” Interjected Pierre, who also liked to annoy Zeth.
“How many times, Gods damn you?! I am not little!” Zeth erupted, standing out of his seat faster than I’d ever seen him move before. Pierre’s face oozed into a grin and others began to laugh as well.
“Well according to our ‘lovely Lady’, she hears that a certain number of her stock would beg to differ.” The room burst into laughter at Devin’s addition. Even I found myself laughing along. Zeth, however, didn’t take too kindly to being the butt of the joke. He slowly reached for his blade. But I’d already began to move towards my seat.
“Calm down, brother.” I said between giggles. “We’re simply jesting.”
“Mocking me, more like.” Zeth retorted. His hand now grasping the hilt of his sword.
“Well, okay, mocking you then. Either way it’s nothing for you to take to heart. Now sit down, It’s time to eat.”
“As you wish, My Liege.” He replied snarkily, giving me an extremely exaggerated bow before taking his seat.
As I took my own seat, a horde of serfs appeared seemingly out of nowhere to provide fresh platters of food. A large metal dish carrying a steaming hot, freshly cooked boar was placed nearer my end of the table. It came garnished with lavish amounts of green leaves beneath it and copious amounts of vegetables. It even had an apple stuffed into its mouth, which I found to be a very nice touch. Other meats were brought in, filling the air with their delicious aromas. Thick slabs of beef drizzled in a dark, mint-infused sauce, golden chicken breasts and succulent lamb cuts.
I watched everyone’s eyes light up as the food was brought in. A feast fit for a King. Or a Prince, at least. You might be wondering as to how I’d garnered the title of Prince. Surely even a Topman like myself would still be regarded as a mere villain, just another of the Undercroft’s misguided children? But alas, favour seemed to have fallen upon me even before my birth. You see, the Alseif name is a pretty household one around the City of Shadows. I’m not really sure about the ins and outs of it, but apparently my father was a big-time crook. Big enough to earn himself the name ‘King of Thieves’. Now, me being his son pretty much makes me criminal royalty which, I might add, is the closest thing to actual nobility I’ll ever achieve. Unless, of course, I wind up marrying a nobleman’s daughter and earn myself a title. But chances are I’ll be dead long before that situation ever rears its’ ugly head.
Being the ‘Prince of Thieves’ isn’t actually as good as it sounds. Unlike actual Princes, I wasn’t entitled to anything, I still had to work my way up from the gutter. And ever since my mother died, I’ve been left to fend for myself. With my old man being a King and all, he’s obviously far too busy to be raising his own children. So the term doesn’t really hold much value for me. Other people, however, like the ones in this very room? They believe it means something. Pierre often rambles on about a second coming, a man to unite the shadows and whatnot, but I pay no interest to those whispers. After all, that’s all they are. There’s no prophecy or pre-written scriptures that details anything about a Thief Prince saving the Empire or even the city for that matter. And even if there were, I very much doubt that I’m the type of guy who’d go gallivanting around saving lives. By the Gods’, half of my business is killing folk for coin! If anything, I’m more likely to do the opposite. Even still, everyone who follows me does so because of my godsforsaken title. But who am I to refuse them? Other than a Prince. In any case, these people are my family more than anything. Okay, they make me lots of money, but without them I’d be alone...and a considerable amount poorer.
They all waited for me to take the first bite. Another sign of respect, though I wasn’t too fussed about it. It meant I got the best pick of the meats. Despite this, I would always allow my Lowers their favourite picks. You hardly want to piss off those who’re in charge of keeping you safe and making you coin. After carefully pondering over the entire selection of meats, I eventually chose the Lamb Loin Chops. Moist and tender, these cuts were the most expensive thing on the table. They came drenched in a chilli-spiced sauce with a few seeds scattered on top. It’s almost as if they were served precisely to my liking, which, thinking about it, they probably were. I had Jezebelle to thank for that. Aside from selling the warmth of their beds, the Lady’s girls also made for excellent cooks. Each one of them were trained in the art of housewifery in anticipation for the day that an Akin was looking to retire from the life and settle down with one of her girls. Naturally, the prospective husband would have to pay a release fee, which would cover the losses of the girl not having to work anymore. There weren’t many working girls like that within the Undercroft, which is why Jezebelle’s were the best in the business.
I looked down the table, watching everyone gorge on their chosen dishes, until I locked eyes with the Head of Mistresses. If she’d eaten anything you’d never have known. Her plate was practically gleaming and her lipstick had certainly not been ruined by the greasy deposits of food that had been brought out. Her gaze was warm, and I found myself quickly lost within the charm of her eyes. She raised a finger to her lips and for a second I thought that she was beckoning me to go over and kiss her. But I soon realized what she was saying after feeling a line of grease dripping from my lip. I quickly used my sleeve to remedy the matter, much to her amusement. I began to ponder on the first time I’d met the Lady Jezebelle. She had come to me one winter’s night offering me warmth and comfort whilst I was in the midst of a drunken stupor. Not one to say ‘no’ to a woman, I less-than-gracefully accepted her offer by shoving my tongue as far down her throat as I could. She’d seemed impressed at the time but after a few weeks of the same thing, I began to learn that she was soon becoming bored of me. Maybe she was even a little disappointed too. I’m not sure how, but the reason she’d come to me in the first place was because she’d known who I was, the supposed ‘Prince of Thieves’.
It was due to her that I’ve become the man I am today. It wasn’t long before I was bettering my standing throughout the shadows just so that I could appease her through any means possible. I’m not stupid, I know she’d used my name to make her own fortune within the Undercroft. The only thing that troubles me, and still does to be honest, is how she knew who I was. I mean, I didn’t exactly throw my name about back then. It would have been hard to given that it had barely any weight behind it. And if anything, it would have only aided me in getting a short drop and a sudden stop, which I wasn’t too keen on receiving at the time, or ever if I can help it.
Once everyone had finished eating and the drink was beginning to flow, I stood up to command the attention of the table. The sounds of chatter died away and the room was given to me. “Ladies and Gentlemen.” I began, raising my beer-filled goblet. “Let us give thanks to the Gods that we are all here to attend this week’s Church meeting.” A wave of murmurs by all around the table followed my statement. I’m not a religious man by any stretch of the imagination and I certainly don’t pray, but being in a house of worship and feasting on expensive foods whilst you’re surrounded by your family makes you want to at least thank someone, especially after a few too many. “Our first topic for today’s meeting will be about our most recently departed member, the rat.” A whisper of groans, they all knew where this was going.
“Surely, the public display of ‘is cadavre was enough to put that issue to rest?” Asked Pierre, nods from others quickly followed.
“Three months, Pierre! Three, fucking, months! How did any of you not suspect something before?” I asked, quickly becoming agitated as the memory of that particular Church meeting came back to me.
“He was a sneaky bastard, Kalas. He had us all fooled, even you.” Added Devin.
“Oh, don’t give me that ‘He even fooled you, Kalas. How could we possibly have seen through it?’. That’s bullshit and you know it, Devin.” I took a moment to breathe and to take another sip of my drink. “Pierre, I don’t want to hear excuses. What I want to know is how that scumbag managed to relay information back to Sloan whilst he was working under you?” I pointed an accusatory finger at the man at that last bit, which made him sink back into his chair almost. The conman struggled to find an answer. He knew that no matter how smooth he talked or how far his nose was jammed up my ass, I wasn’t letting this one go. I wanted blood.
“I must confess, Mon Liège…” He paused for barely a few seconds but it was enough to make a cold chill run down the back of my spine. The faces of the others displayed my anticipated horror as each of us were expecting to hear Pierre’s confession of betrayal. The room stood in silence.
“...I do not know.” He head hung at the final word. The room breathed a sigh of relief. Even I let out the breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. That bastard, he had a knack for theatrics. “Delivery schedules, shipping costs, profit margins, the correct amount of gin Monsieur Rivers prefers in his morning tea. All these things, I know and I can tell you by heart. But ‘ow le rat managed to outwit me, I cannot say. And for this I am shamed.” Pierre was intensely proud of his vast intelligence. It was the reason I chose him as my Lower. So for him to admit in front of everyone that he had been outsmarted by some scumbag rat, it wasn't something he'd do unless he truly meant it. I instantly regretted placing him in that position but I had to know.
The room stayed silent as I pondered my next line of inquiry. I decided a change of topic was probably for the best. I could speak with Pierre in private later. “Alright then, let’s move on.” I said, sitting back in my seat. The amount I’d drank was starting to catch up with me.
RE: Kalas' Writing Exploits - Kalas - 09-12-2014 06:31 PM
I just finished writing this post for an RP I'm in. I basically have just instigated a war between Humans and Metahumans
17:46pm Walt Disney Concert Hall, Downtown, Los Angeles
Aster had arrived at the designated area early, he wanted to scout it out first. He'd always come to a job prepared and this time would be no different. He'd need to find a vantage point, somewhere where he could get a lay of the land, so to speak. The crossroads at 2nd Street was packed full of protesters, all of them shouting various chants and jibes against the existence of Meta's. If he was affected by it, Aster didn't show it. To him, this was just another payday. He had chosen to ride here on his Ducati, it was quicker when navigating the torn up streets. Downtown looked as if it had taken the brunt of the damaged caused by the riots, he guessed that was because this is where the most people were. Hence why The Voice wanted him to stage the attack here. "He obviously has more of a hand in this than just an instigator." Aster thought. He'd need to tread carefully when dealing with this man.
He started up his bike again, having stopped away from the main crowd half way down Grand Avenue. Opposite the Concert Hall was a car park, no doubt abandoned during the riots. It'd be the perfect place for him to teleport from to reach the roof of the Concert Hall that everyone had gathered in front of. After a little research online, Aster had found out that this is where the Mayor was holed up. He'd been watching a performance with his wife and kids when the rioting began. Now there was a considerable police presence surrounding the building. Given that the Government had yet to take charge of the situation in L.A. it was only natural that people would flock to the Mayor.
A dangerous idea played in his mind at that thought but he discarded it quickly. 'The Voice must know the Mayor would be here. And if he wanted him dead, the task would have said so. Stick to the plan, A.J.' With that, he began to ride up the road toward to crowd of protesters. Surprisingly enough, as he reached the main body, people began to move aside for him. Fortunately these people must have thought that riding a motorcycle was far too civilized for a Meta to do. Unfortunately, they would soon live to regret it. It took him longer to pass through the crowd than he'd expected but he made it through alive and unscathed, even despite a few people waving various signs in front of him and such. Nobody suspected him to be anything more than he was, just a guy on a motorcycle.
After pulling into the abandoned car park and riding up to the top level, he parked his bike closest to the edge towards the Concert Hall. Scouring across the crowd, he could easily see that the number of people was growing. He looked at his watch, 17:56, it was nearly time. Standing back from the edge, he focused on a large triangular balcony that jutted out from the main structure. The perfect place to address the crowd before he struck. He closed his eyes and, in an instant, he was teleported to the balcony. He began walking towards the edge, checking his watch all the while, 17:57.
He continued walking, a slow pace, fully savoring the coming moments. The raucous from the crowd below becoming silent as he focused. "HEY! You're not supposed to be up here!" The sudden voice, broke him from his concentration. Aster spun on the spot, an armed police guard raised his weapon, one of the Mayor's men. "Step away from the edge! Do it now!"
"Or what, Officer? You'll shoot me?" The policeman looked confused at Aster's reply. "And how exactly will you do that..." Aster teleported mid-sentence, appearing behind the man and wrapping an arm around his neck. "...When you're dead?" He whispered, finishing the question by grabbing the back of the man's head with his free hand and twisting it quickly until his neck gave way with an audible Snap! The guard's body went limp, followed by the clattering sound of his rifle dropping to the floor. Aster looked at his watch a final time, 17:59.
______________________________
"Good evening Ladies & Gentlemen, I'm Janet Wilson, reporting live for the six o'clock news on Channel 5. I'm currently standing in front of the Walt Disney Concert Hall where an Anti-Metahuman Protest Rally has gathered to make their point well and truly heard. Earlier reports have confirmed that Mayor Irving Johansson and his family have been held up inside the Hall since the riots and protests against Metahumans began just days ago. Although there have been no signs of any major violence or discord, there is a heavy police presence to prevent any of the protesters from entering the building. Many people believe that the Mayor is the only man to turn to in these trying times, since there has been no official comment made from the President regarding the crisis here in Los Angeles."
The crowd had grown bigger, it was more than he'd expected. Aster could see the mob beginning to stretch down Grand Avenue. He took a final look at his watch, 18:00. It was time.
"What's this? There seems to be a figure emerging up on the balcony above. Has Mayor Johansson finally come to address the disgruntled people of Los Angeles? The crowd of people have begun directing their shouts towards him now, growing louder with each verse. Just what will the man everyone is looking towards say to calm this out-of-control situation?"
______________________________
The intensity of the crowd below surged to new heights, Aster could almost feel their chants reach him as he stood just behind corpse of the officer he'd just killed. He was holding him towards the edge, ready to let go. But it wasn't until the first bloodcurdling scream of realization sounded that he allowed the lifeless body to slump over the edge and slam into the hard concrete below. It hit the floor with a dull Thud followed by a stunned silence and then dozens of more screams. Both members of the crowd and the police flocked toward the body and, as they did so, Aster stepped forward.
"HUMANS!" He bellowed. The crowd went silent again, save for hushed whispers that spread amongst them quicker than wildfire. "Let this be the moment that you remember for all of time!" Aster raised his right arm above his head, his palm flat out towards the sky. He began to focus his energy into his held out hand, this one would be stronger than before. One of his super-charged lances that he kept saved for special occasions. "Realize now that you Humans are an obsolete race! And that we, Metahumanity, are here to purge you from this world!" He spoke loud and clearly, pronouncing each word with full sincerity. The words and acts of a radicalist to spark an all-out genocide. Maybe he should have charged The Voice more.
The light in his palm had grown so blinding that people below began airing their discomfort, more shouts, more jeers. The crowd grew more wild as they began to realize exactly who, and what, the man on the balcony was. Just a few more seconds and it would be ready. The police down below were mobilizing by now, radioing in to their colleagues inside the building about a rampant Meta standing on the balcony, addressing the crowd of protesters. Seconds passed until finally, the light faded and the lance hovered about an inch above his hand.
"It is with light that we must purge the darkness."
With a single movement, Aster launched the Hard-Light Spear into the masses below.
______________________________
Aster felt the explosion long before he could hear it. The sheer force of it threw him from the edge of the balcony and he fell to his back. Down below, he could only visualize the destruction. Hordes of people, dead. Hundreds of others scrambling for their lives, screaming and wailing. Blood, gore and viscera mixed amongst the shattered remains of the ground below, which was now a sizable crater. Humans were weak things, not like Metas. If there were any Metas in the crowd, it's likely they would have survived. Either through the use of their powers or just the enhanced durability merely from being Metahuman. No doubt, though, that they wouldn't look kindly towards his actions today. Hell, if it weren't for the fact that he didn't care about being a Meta, he probably would have felt the same way. But as it was, Aster cared only for himself.
Shouts from behind alerted him to the unit of policemen that had been sent to retrieve him before the explosion. Aster rose to his feet. The men stopped dead as they witnessed the chaos and destruction caused by the blast. They were covered in dust and cuts. The force of the explosion had caved in half of the Concert Hall's front entrance. Aster moved quickly, diving forward, before teleporting in front of the closest guard. The others were shooting by now, at the spot where he stood seconds before. Aster snapped a front kick straight into the policeman's chest, forcing his foot deep into the man's abdomen, barreling him to the floor. He spun to the left, swinging his right fist as he did so. Another flash and Aster had ported again. This time, as he emerged, he completed the swing of his fist, driving it into the neck of the next guard, who crumpled to the ground. The deafening bark of his gun suddenly falling silent.
Aster felt the presence of the third man behind him. The lack of gunfire meant that he was close, probably winding up for a strike with his rifle. He reacted instantly, whipping his leg out behind him to land on his assailant's knee-joint. The momentum of the guard multiplied by his own weight and the force of Aster's attack, caused the joint to fail completely. The man fell with a half-stifled yelp. Aster turned to address him. The guard still held on to his rifle and was now aiming it at him. Aster smiled. "You Humans and your guns." He held a hand out towards to barrel of the weapon, which then began to change from it's normally black, metallic state to a white, frosted one, made of Hard-Light. The guard attempted to pull the trigger but only succeeded in snapping it off. "You never did learn to evolve." He quickly grabbed the barrel, breaking it off, then plunged it deep into the guard's throat. Crimson liquid spewed from the wound as the dying man gurgled his last few breaths. He then fell silent.
Aster stood and reached into his pocket for the PDA left to him by The Voice. A few taps of the screen and his message of completion was sent. The device immediately vibrated. An incoming call from an unknown number. He answered it.
"Elegantly done, Mr. Javian." Came The Voice.
"I take it you were watching, then?" Aster asked.
"And miss your award-winning theatrics? Tell me, did you actually believe anything that you said back there?"
"The only thing I believe in is money. You paid me to do a job, I got it done. Now, is that all or do you further require my services?"
"Oh no, Mr. Javian, we're merely getting started. Your next task will be to go after the Mayor. He must not be harmed. Once you have him in your custody, bring him to 14410 Sylvan St. I expect you there by 21:00pm. You will be paid on arrival."
The call clicked off, The Voice was gone. Aster looked around, wails and cries could still be heard from the chaos below. Sirens could also be heard, it was time to move. As he was walking toward the doors that lead into the building, the first guard he'd knocked down let out a guttural cough, followed by a groan of pain. Blood trickled from his mouth. His kick had likely cracked the man's sternum, possibly punctured a lung. It would be a slow, painful death for him. The humane thing to do would be to put him out of his misery, or even call for aide. But Aster merely walked on, leaving the man to his creeping fate.