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 Posted: Thu Nov 22, 2007 10:36 pm
[The Bridges We Build: Pre-Game]
So...I met another guy like me. He was tall, had horns, and completely ruined any chance of the boss being calm tomorrow.
Oddly enough, I'm not too annoyed about that. It was nice talking to him. Usually I hate talking to strangers and things get awkward, but our conversation was simply...strange. Really, really surreal.
I led him out so he wouldn't ruin any more materials, and after that he was gone. Just like that. I must have stood there for ten minutes watching the road he'd left on.
I wonder if I just dreamed the whole thing up.
Ciro, huh...that's a funny name.
Word Count: 1,033
Points: 10.33
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Posted: Thu Nov 22, 2007 11:07 pm
Solo One
[The Hazards of Riding a Bike: A Day In the Life of Valeriu]
Paperboy.
He didn't have a good feeling about this. At all. And his expression said so.
"Relax, kid. It's as easy as ridin' a bike."
"That's because ee't ee's riding a bike." He gave the two-wheeled contraption a dubious look. It was innocent-looking enough; metal frame with blue paint flaking off, carrying a battered wire basket at the front with dozens of rolled-up newspapers crammed into it.
He thought being a paper-boy would be easy; he already woke up early, and he traveled along this route every day to his other jobs.
He just wished he could do it without the bicycle. He didn't know how to ride a bike; he'd never graduated beyond a tricycle before he deemed such an unwieldy method of transportation unnecessary.
"I promise ya, it's a piece o' cake."
***
His front caked with mud, his hands and arms scraped, his lip busted, his pants ripped, and missing one shoe, he gained a surprised look from his boss.
"How was it?"
Valeriu slammed the keys to the bike lock on the counter in front of the man.
"A piece of cake."
Word Count: 186
Points: 1.86
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Posted: Mon Dec 03, 2007 7:53 pm
[The Abyss Stares Back: Introduction to the Game]
Sometimes I wonder if I'm going crazy and hallucinating these days. Has the stress of work finally snapped me? First meeting Ciro, now talking face to face with a goddess...maybe I am dreaming all this up. But the mirror necklace I'm wearing tells me this isn't a dream. I wish I'd gotten the name of that floral shop owner, that goddess - she was kind enough to explain what's going on to me. At least I have a clue, now. And I know what to look out for. Other Godlings and their gods.
But somehow, I feel it's my own god that I should look out for the most.
Tezcatlipoca.
I don't like his methods.
Word Count: 2,897
Points: 28.97
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Posted: Wed Dec 26, 2007 10:25 pm
Solo Two
[Atlas Shrugged: Solo Two, Post-Introduction Thoughts]
It wasn't until he lay in bed that night, somewhat sore from the day's work, that he let himself think about what he'd learned. He played with the small mirror hanging around his neck, contemplating the day's events.
Gods and goddesses. Children. Pawns. All playing a game whose stakes included the world. It was hard to imagine, let alone be part of. He rolled to his side, holding the mirror up, its chill a constant reminder against his skin. It could hardly be called a mirror: in its dark surface there was no reflection to look into. Nothing but the black obsidian glinting in the moonlight.
And though worry for the future knotted his stomach, he fell asleep too easily that night, drifting into nightmares.
The rain was tapping a steady beat upon the thatch roof. The room was cold except when near the gently dying fireplace, whose weakening flickers cast long, dancing shadows upon the roughly hewn, stone walls. It was a dark night, and the moving shadows impressed upon him the feel of being circled on three sides. Moving closer to the fireplace, or firepit more like, he wished he had more wood to give it strength - but there were far worse things out in the jungle than shadows.
He could hear some of them, even now; the cawing of the colored birds, the rustling of the trees, the hum of the insects and the crackling of some large animal moving across the forest floor. Being inside this room was surely safer.
The loud, cough-like roar of a jaguar echoed in the distance, momentarily silencing the sounds of the creatures until it had faded.
The fire was barely anything more than embers lying deep in a pool of ash, now. Some still glowed white-hot, while others had already blackened cold, the red spark of life lost. The shadows had gotten thicker, less confined, and had crept up to a mere few feet from the fireplace. Their dancing had become less innocent, looming up behind his back, concealing the rest of the room - and the door to escape - from his eyes. All he had was this little circle of light that kept them at bay, hopefully until morning.
Something flickered in the corner of his eye, and he turned his head to peer through the darkness. Was it another shadow? No, it had come from within the mass of darkness, and-there it was again!
He looked closer. Less a flicker, it appeared more like an unnatural glint of light. Not reflecting the fireplace, but more like it reflected the moonlight itself. Coldly white with a red tinge, even though the harvest moon was still weeks away.
Curiosity gnawed at him, reckless courage pushing him to his feet and stepping away from the safety of his fire, stepping into the darkness towards that fading glint, until he was standing at the farthest wall, looking into a pit blacker than the shadows around him, of the deepest, darkest black he had ever even seen, an oval of more-than-pitch-black surrounded by ornate obsidian, a mirror reflecting the bloody light of the harvest moon, and his eyes widened as he saw-
He woke up with a shout, jolting into a sitting position in bed. Covered in a cold sweat and shaking head to toe, his heart pounding, it took him a few minutes to collect himself, wits jumping at every imagined beast seen in the shadows of his room. Fumbling, he turned the light switch on, and willed his arms to stop shaking, willed his breathing to steady.
Agitation filled him, and he knew he wouldn't get more sleep that night. Deeply uneasy, he pushed himself out of bed, bare feet padding across the cold floor to the bedroom next door. Sydni's room. The night-light inside gave him some reassurance as it reflected off her crib and sleeping face, and he soon found himself leaning against the wall, watching her sleep. It calmed him in ways he hadn't known he was upset.
There she was; safe and sound, peaceful, serene. All tiny hands and rounded face, with his mother's hair and his father's smile. And even as her sweet sleep calmed him, his thoughts turned to her future. What would happen if she was left on her own? What would happen if, somehow, he wasn't there for her, and she was hurt?
It pained him to think of not being there for her, of her not being safe. He wanted to protect her from anybody, anything that could hurt her. In a world of guns and gangs and knives and killing, he needed an upper hand. The mirror's weight on his chest reminded him - that was why he'd taken the god's offer. So he could do something if he was faced with a stranger who wanted to kill him or hurt his baby sister.
But he knew the god's deal went both ways. He had to try and win this, this game of theirs. He didn't know if he could or not, but he didn't intend to let himself lose.
His sister's face told him all he needed to know. If he won, he'd make a world where she wouldn't ever have to live in fear of anything.
Not even himself.
Word Count: 883
Points: 8.83
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Posted: Wed Dec 26, 2007 10:28 pm
Solo Three
[The Darkest Before The Dawn: Tezcatlipoca's Metaplot Solo]
Tap. Taptaptaptap. Taptaptaptaptap. Tap.
Fingertips drummed irregularly on the hollow cranium of a bleached-white skull, inset into the arm of a throne made entirely out of the same jagged, broken, warped remains of human skeletons. Sun-kissed skin made a startlingly grotesque contrast to the material it rested against, as did the unexpectedly handsome face of the man sitting on his demented throne. Hooded eyes stared off into the morphing shadows that made up the landscape of what he called home, tongue idly tracing along the edges of his sharp teeth. A narrowing of his eyes and the slight furrowing of his brows were all that gave him away: he was not pleased.
This was unexpected.
He, who had to utilize the utmost extent of his cunning to even insinuate himself into the Game, found Shamash’s little “mistake” slightly grating. To have not one, but two Players?
Tezcatlipoca wished he thought of it himself.
He didn’t expect a god who so strictly adhered to rules to cheat so obviously. That, now that amused him. Their goals were the same, after all – they just played with different rules. And to see Shamash kicked off his righteous horse, just once…well, it was a pleasure. Even the thought brought a smirk to his face.
But there was still the matter of Shamash having two Godlings. Admittedly, one didn’t hold his dangerous, fiery prowess anymore, but the man was still loyal to Shamash and working towards his goals. The other was a wild card, but Tezcatlipoca didn’t believe the god would seriously let his own Godling stray too far from his demands. The Aztec god sure didn’t, after all. Suddenly clawed hands played with the mirror in his grasp – he could feel his Godling through the link, every breath taken, every thought, every single heartbeat. He could sense his Godling sleeping somewhat peacefully now, untroubled by nightmares this time around.
How precious.
He’d taken precautions to ensure that, ultimately, he had total control over the boy, and he doubted Shamash would do anything less. With his Godling still small and inexperienced, Tezcatlipoca had to tread carefully with the sun god, to ensure that the man’s hostile gaze didn’t turn towards him.
But he believed it was time to make his presence known. The boy had had enough time to get used to the idea of what he was entrenched in, and Tezcatlipoca had allowed him to live independently for long enough. Now, now he needed to start making some alliances with the right people: starting with Shamash’s boy.
A sharp-toothed smile split his face.
Tomorrow, his pawn would have work to do.
Points: 4.39
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Posted: Mon Jan 07, 2008 3:37 pm
[And It Calls: The Gathering of Players]
Got woken up to go help out two captured Players - I don't know who they are, but these Blacksuits sound like trouble. I'd like to know more about them, just in case. I'm in a group with two other Godlings - Jubs and Koa, don't know them, but they look tough.
We're going to go ask this Persy person for information.
How hard could this be?
Word Count: 598
Points: 5.98
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