More adjustments have been made to my blog. I now have a clock, which is useless to me but helpful to you, and also the Chat Box has been changed. I have made it so that you have to click on the link that shows up, and a pop-up chat box thing appears, allowing you to resize and so on.
And that's just about all i wanted to sa-
OOH! What's this? A story that just so happened to appear? Why, that's awesome!
This is that story that i think i mentioned earlier...something about drinking, Israel, Elysium Asylum and Christmas...hmm..
It doesn't have a title, but it's such a small piece that it doesnt really need one. No, there will not be a follow up piece, so if you weren't mentioned or seen in this story i am deeply sorry, i shall make it up to you somehow.
Israel Elysium sat at the big desk in his father's old room, contemplating life and staring glumly at the heavy rain outside.
Christmas Eve. And he had piled before him a mountain of paperwork to sign, courtesy of the Irish Sanctuary.
Israel hated paperwork. It was a job more suited to someone like his father had been.
He sighed and consulted the sheet of paper that was first on the pile. It was a sign-up sheet for work at the Sanctuary. He slowly picked up a pen and hoped that it was out of ink. It wasn't.
The whole thing was his fault, and he knew it. It had all started when he was at a local pub, sharing a drink with a high-up Sanctuary Agent. The conversation had drifted to the subject of Sanctuary recruitment, and by that time, Israel had already drunk three beers. His memory got a little fuzzy around that point, but two days later, a letter arrived at Elysium Asylum, containing several forms and a small note saying that the agent had gone to a lot of trouble to get Israel a spot in the Sanctuary's protection work force.
The forms were due tomorrow; Christmas day. Israel sighed once more, hearing suppressed music from the common room below. If it were any other agent, he would have instantly turned down the offer. But he needed to maintain a good friendship with this one. The man could become a useful ally in the future, and Israel didn't want to scare him off or anything. And plus, the Agent owned his own private brewery, and damn, Israel thought, did that man make one helluva Long Island Ice Tea.
So Israel was stuck. From somewhere downstairs, he heard another chorus of cheers and laughter in celebration of Christmas Eve.
He sat still for a split second, muttered "Stuff it" and pushed away from the large table, the chair scraping as it was dragged across the floorboards. He walked over to his bedside, donned his knee-length jacket, and turned to the door of his room, about to leave. He didn't know where he was going. Probably just somewhere he was going to sit in a corner and be pissed at the rest of the world.
Something sparkled out of the corner of his eye. Israel turned his head to look at the intricate glass bottle sitting on his desk. It was a bottle of strong whiskey that had been an early Christmas present from one of the residents here at E.A.
So, he could sulk and glare at the world for being unfair. Or...
The hallway outside of his room was dark. His footsteps were light on the carpeted floor, and for a moment as he passed Jaffa's and Kallista's rooms, he wondered if he should invite them down there too. He kept walking. They probably already were.
A small pair of eyes watched from the banister of the grand staircase downwards. Israel reached them and smiled, patting the cat that perched peculiarly there. "Is that you, Mar Chu?" The cat purred in answer, rubbing her chin on Israel's hand. "Well, isn't it strange what the cat drags in in Christmas Eve? No pun intended, of course."
Israel started to descend the stairs, and Mar leaped on to the shoulder of his jacket, clinging desperately as he continued to move. When he reached the Entrance Hall, Mar got a better grip on his jacket, the claws digging into it.
"Hey!" Israel called over his shoulder at Mar. "Watch it! I only have one of these jackets."
He passed the piece of old parchment that hung on the wall beside the front door, and as he did, his name disappeared from it, as did the words parallel of his name, 'Israel's Room'.
Instead, they reappeared seconds later, with the writing 'Entrance Hall' scrawled in neatly next to it. Underneath Israel's name and in the same category was March's name.
His eyes glanced quickly at the section for the people sitting in the common room. It extended to over half of the list. He saw names he barely recognized, and others that he hadn't heard of in years. His feet stopped moving and Mar was almost thrown off his shoulder. He went back to the list and smiled to himself as he saw that some of the names were slight smudged, as if someone had splashed with a small amount of water. Israel almost laughed at the amount of people smudges in their name. He had created that small piece of magic himself, designed to signal who was drunk and who wasn't. The more smudged the name, the more drunk that person was.
He spotted a name in the section labelled 'Driveway', and he moved to the front door. He checked the future, counted the seconds, and with a flourish, opened the front door. A wet and bewildered Dragona Pine stood in he doorway, cold to the bone. "How did you...?" Dragona began, but Israel just tapped his own temple and smiled.
Dragona saw something under Israel's jacket and almost collapsed right there. "Please tell me that's what I think it is...please tell me...is that...Whiskey?"
"Like Hell," Israel replied, lifting the bottle up so that Dragona could see it better. He made a quick grab for the bottle and Israel snatched it away, leaving Dragona stumbling towards the staircase. "I'm opening it in the common room if you want any," Israel called to Dragona, and then walked on through the hallways. It wasn't far to walk before he had reached the Common Room. This close, the music was so loud that the floorboards had started to shake. He straightened his jacket, smoothed down his hair, and opened the two large French doors to see a party happening. The fire was roaring. Drinks were being served. The music was being mixed by someone that he didn't quite know. They even had a large Christmas tree in the corner.
The moment he entered, the music stopped. Cheering died down. And all eyes were fixed upon him. Kallista stood from her seat. "Um...w-we're sorry, Israel. We know you have a lot of work. We could, um, turn the music down if you want," she said sheepishly.
Silence filled the room still. The people who had been dancing now shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. And Israel just stood there, staring at them all.
Another ten seconds passed. Then, wordlessly, Israel held the Whiskey bottle aloft in the air, a smile playing upon his features.
Everyone cheered. They hooted 'n' wooted. They were really just glad overall because he hadn't come down there to put a stop to the party, and instead he had come and joined them.
There was a welcoming of hands and smiles as he went through the crowd, greeting those he knew and nodding to the ones he didn't. He finally reached the bar, where a sorcerer bar-man was serving drinks. "Anything for you, sir?" he asked Israel after just serving two others.
"Just some glasses please," he replied. The bar-man gave him four on a small plate, and Israel weaves his way to the corner of the room, pulling up a leather-padded chair. He set the glasses down on a little table, and started pouring.
Fifteen minutes later...
Dragona took the stairs down to the first floor two at a time in, all water gone from his clothes. He was just about to head on down to the common room when he glanced at the parchment attached to the wall. He kept going, stopped, and backtracked slowly.
His eyes spotted once again what they had moments again. It was under the section labelled 'Common Room'.
"What the HELL," Dragona said, staring at the mass of blotted ink on the parchment where someone's name was meant to be. "is THAT?"
"Stuff it," Israel said, drowning his fifteenth glass from the bottle of strong Whisky. "I don't need that job! And I don't need to be friends with that agent, anyways."
And so his mind was set.
However, all that the people around him could define of his words was little more than "Nmph nm nmph-nmh." And then he proceeded to fall asleep.
I have made some changes to the blog recently, as you can see.
With the help of my awesome bro, Louis, I have added...
A CHAT BOX! HOORAY!
Now, i;m hopefully thinking that this will be easier for people to talk on the blog. And I think that if it's awesome enough, we might even convince the Golden God to put it on his blog! Which i think will make many people happy, as if there is a post on his blog that is on a certain topic, people can still chat on there, but with this chatbox.
Another reason i brought it in was so that you wouldn't have to go and refresh a whole page to see if someone has commented yet. I dunno, but i hope this is better. If not, i'll prob take it down.
Lizzy, i posted something in the previous post, replying to what you said.
And btw, when you're using the chat box, you can click on the 'Help' button to open up a little window with helpful tips on how to get colors, sizes, etc.
I will be posting two things soon: 1, a very short piece of writing about Israel, drinking, jobs, Christmas, and Elysium Asylum.
2, the next part of my fan-fic, which shall be upon us very soon.
Also, another idea for a fan-fic has sprung into my mind, and i have already started plan it out.
It shall be about...
...and mind you, no-one can copy this idea....
....A Cleaver.
Because i have become mildly obsessed with these supersoldiers. In my fan-fic, there is a great deal about a certain one, and then there was this 'White Cleaver' post i did, and now this....
...I want to know so much about SP, but i think i like having never-ending freedom with my writing, and so coming up with stories about Cleavers is fun, on account of so little back story being said by the Golden Gods in his books.
...speaking about his books, i;m now up to the part when Valkyrie and Fletch go dancing in Mortal Coil....
I did not meet him, nor speak to him. It was only a fleeting glance, but it was enough.
I was in the second to last lesson of school, and I was bored out of my mind. I had finished reading the book that we were meant to be studying, and so my gaze drifted to the blackboard in search of interest.
I saw a flash. A glint of steel and glassy visor. I turned to my right, looking out the window, to see him standing there on top of the adjacent building, holding his scythe and leaning on it slightly. By the time my eyes registered the fact that he was there, he was gone again, lost to my sight.
I did not tell anyone. How could I? What would they say, if I told them that I saw a deadly fictional character?
I did not dwell about why he had been watching. It might not even be me that his eyes were on.
But afterwards, when the day was over, I went to the back of that building, a place where no-one visited anymore, and found strange evidence.
A chocolate bar wrapper. A car magazine. Even what looked like a cigarette!
I was surely not aware that a zombified Cleaver would have the need to eat. And surely he wouldn’t be reading magazines. But those items were there, none the less.
And so there was my sighting of the White Cleaver.
I was relieved, at the least, that the lethal figure had decided to stay on the roof of the building and not come any closer. Although, the distance between the window and the edge of the roof wasn’t that big. If anything, he could jump the gap right through the window.
Secretly, however, I wanted to know more about him. Wanted to meet him, and speak to him. I did not realise, however, that that would also happen very soon…
Hello Lenka. It is great to have you back. Or at least with the promise of a post a month.
WOAH It's been quite a good *counts on fingers* ...um...let's just say eighteen days since i've posted. That sounds reasonable.
Let me fix that last statement- it's been a boring and dull 18 days since i've posted, mainly because i've been to darn lazy to post.
There is one thing i need to say before anything else gets said, done, accomplished, or even THOUGHT about.
Lenka Sweet. I hope you are reading this. I hope that in London, somewhere, you are reading this and smiling. And hopefully coming back.
In my last post, i stated that Lenka had returned. Yeah, well, sort of. She posted, but we've been commenting for a while now and she hasn't said anything else. I don;t want you to leave again, Lenka. Truly, it is horrible not knowing what a fellow writer is feeling.
Tell us. Tell me. I don't care, just....come back. I really miss you.
And with those somber and hope-filled words, i move on to the next thing. I have been thinking of stuff to do. I have been failing at thinking of stuff to do.
But i managed. Barely.
So, top of that list is definitely writing the story. And i'm pretty happy because i just finished the next part. It will be below, as soon as i finish talking about stuff. Stuff-Z.
Second in the list of stuff i need to do, is this picture i drew recently.
Yes, i know that you are instantly going "Wait a sec-isn't his brother the drawing prodigy? The Graphic Designer? The amazing artist?
Well, yes. Yes he is. But i'll be damned if i can't draw as well.
Not as good as him, Hell no, but close. With my own style. Right now, i can accurately draw an AK47 (Assault Kalashnikov, made in 1947, if anyone's interested) in under 4 minutes, plus shading and attachments.
This drawing that i have yet to scan in (that's my goal, scanning and colouring) is of a battlefield. And it's pretty damn awesome, if i say so myself.
But that hasn't been done. So that is second.
Third, if you all can remember, is that movie that i said i would post, just a sort of quick look around my room and my bookshelf. Y'see, i still have to edit some of it, and that's a tough enough task, and with each passing day that i don't do anything about it, i just feel like not really posting it anymore. If i do post it tho, and you're to stuffed to watch it (i wouldnt blame you, it's pretty bad. Just me and my incessant voice going on for a while), then...well, it's got a special guest/star appearance of Daniel Radcliffe.
....yeaaaaaah nah. It's got Louis in it tho...if that...helps... -_-
PART FREAKIN' 7:
Remember that this is a new Part and Episode.
If you remember, i split you all up so it was easier to write, but half of you went to Japan to see Ki-yoko, cos she had a way to block Lewis' powers, and the other half stayed with Lewis in...well i'm not quite sure where they actually are. It's probably Ireland. Hm. Dublin, most likely.
So, i already wrote six seperate parts of characters in Japan, which hopefully you have already read. And this is the beginning of the other parts, including these O.C's:
Israel Elysium drummed his fingers on the rim of the steering wheel of his van, his face illuminated partially by the passing street lights. He tried and failed to ignore the six passengers moving noisily around in the back of his van, pocking and prodding the cheap seats. He tried to ignore their weapons, the way that they stabbed and scratched his beloved vehicle, with every bump and jolt of the long trip to his home. In a desperate attempt to clear his mind, he keyed a button, and his window rolled down. A blast of cold, Irish air dotted with rain drops came into the van, to more complaining and muttering from those in the back.
And then there were the questions. Always the questions.
“Hey Israel, why is everything so uncomfortable?”
“Where are we going, again?”
“How are the others doing?”
“Do you mind if I put my bow over here?
And worst of all, “Are we there yet?”
It was funny, of course. In the movies. The books. T.V shows, yes. Even comic strips. But in real life? Hell no.
He ignored them, mostly. Tried to get his thinking straight.
In the passenger seat was Aquila, shifting awkwardly as she moved her weapons around to a more comfortable spot. Israel had done a round trip, visiting everyone’s homes and giving them thirty seconds to grab whatever weapons and equipment they could carry and bring it in the van. If their home wasn’t close enough, or had already been compromised by the Sanctuary, Israel had promised them all a selection of the finest weaponry he had ever come across in his travels, back at the vault in his house.
Nicolette's voice penetrated his thoughts. "Hey Israel, what's this metal box got inside it?" There was a dull 'thwump' from the back of the van.
"Why'd you kick it?" Sarthacus asked Nicolette. "It's not like it was hurting you or anything."
Israel had the distinct impression that Nicolette was shrugging. "I wanted to test how strong it was. So I kicked it. Ok?"
Israel inhaled deeply, wishing for the umpteenth time that his van was completely empty and devoid of others. He liked company, yes, but this? This was torture.
But instead of yelling at them all to shut the hell up and get out of his van, he exhaled his breath, checked his review mirrors to make sure no-one else was on the road, and calmly slammed on the brakes in the middle of the street.
Everyone jolted forward from the force of the sudden stop, and several heads banged together.
"Please," said Israel in the same calm, controlled voice. "Get the hell away from that box. I'd rather NOT have everyone in the back of my car reduced to a bloody and pulpy mess."
No-one said anything. But they all crammed further towards the back of the van, away from the ominous looking box.
Israel went to turn the ignition back on when a shape standing right outside the car window caught his eye. He shouted an obscenity, his eyes flicking instinctively to the side-view mirror, but he could only see blank space where the shape was, but it was there, just outside of the van, drawing it's pale-skinned clawed hand back to form a fist...
Something clicked in Israel's head about not being able to see it in the mirror, when there was a crashing sound and he was pulled through the window and out onto the pavement.
He could here the loud voices of his friends, yelling, but it would be to late for him by the time they got there. The man--no, the 'vampire', Israel corrected himself--would have already killed him by then.
Of course, he he had neither asked nor needed any help with this foe.
In one swift movement, Israel pulled out his double barrel, sawn-off shotgun, pulling the trigger twice in rapid succession and blowing vampire half to kingdom come.
The others piled out of the back of the van, save Lewis. They ran over to Israel, just as he was dusting himself off and emptying the two shells from his gun. "What in Hell's name took you so long?"
Nicolette stepped forward sheepishly. "Well...y'see... We really didn't want to disturb that box of yours...just...just in case..."
"Right, good thinking," Israel replied distractedly, staring at a shape that had appeared some way down the street.
The shape stepped into the light of a street lamp, and Israel rose his gun to his shoulder, aiming down the sights at the man.
The man stopped advancing, and instead cupped his hands around his mouth.
"Dusk sends his regards!" he shouted to the group, then pulled something from his jean pocket, throwing it into the darkness behind him.
Skylara swore darkly.
"What?" Sarthacus asked. "What did you see?"
"A syringe. 100 mililitres. Probably full of hemlock and wolf's bane."
"Wait--you could see all that?"
Sarthacus turned to Skylara, just in time to see her eyes morph from a smaller hazel pair into her normal-sized silver pair. "Eagle eyes," she said knowingly, tapping her head and smiling.
The vampire shucked it's skin, clothes and all, and howled at the fugitives by the van. "Ah, too easy. This isn't going to take longer than a second!" Aquila said confidently. Then out of the shadows and off of the roofs came other forms, prowling forward, eyeing the group with hunger and malice. "I take that back," Aquila said, and the vampires lunged.
It was all very fast. Sarthacus ducked, a vampire flying over his head and ramming into Skylara. They both rolled, Skylara coming to her paws as her wolf form, the vampire coming up just plain snarling. Nicolette pulled out and then threw blade after blade, each one finding it's mark with a sickly sound. Several vampires were thrown into the air by an unseen wind, the guided by Sarthacus' hands into into the side of a brick building. Aquila ran forward and transformed into a huge bald eagle, flying tremendously fast at the nearest vampire with her clawed feet outstretched. Darkane drew out her two long blades, plunging them straight into the head of an advancing vampire, pulling them out with a gruesome 'snick'. And Israel rested the butt of his shotgun on his hip, swung around to the group of vampires, and pulled the trigger. The buckshot flew into the midst of the group, catching a vampire in the chest and sending him spinning to the ground. And the the blue wave of energy erupted from the barrel of his gun, crashing into the vampires and disrupting their attack. But they stumbled to their feet and stumbled forward still. Sarthacus stepped forward, muttering "I've got this," and raising his hand. Israel closed his eyes, saw what Sarthacus wanted to achieve, and placed his arm on his friend's shoulder, letting the vision course through and into Sarthacus' mind.
Sarthacus then closed his eyes, watching the vision, seeing how it played out and when he should attack. Sarthacus concentrated on that moment, rehearsing it in his mind while the remaining six vampires regained their speed and rushed forward. They weaved all around the street, in no pattern at all, but still moving towards Sarthacus and his friends.
But they wouldn't be overrun and ripped to shreds by the beasts. That may have been one of the possible futures that Israel had seen, but it wasn't the one that he had shown Sarthacus.
As Sarthacus was seeing the vision one more time, just to make sure of when to strike, there was a moment. The wind seemed to stop, the vampire's shrieking died away and the only sound Sarthacus could hear was his own and his comrades breathing. The vampires weaving bodies aligned for a split second, one in front of the other, and at that moment, Sarthacus thrust out his palm, and a thin branch snapped out from a hole on the underside of his wrist, shooting forward at an amazing speed and impaling all of the vampires at once. The first one in line, close enough for Israel to see the saliva dripping off of it's fangs, just stood there, suspended by the branch in it's stomach and gurgling slightly.
Sarthacus twisted his hand with obvious effort, tugging the branch back towards him and through the skewered vamps.
One by one, from the last vampire and moving on to the first, the beasts slumped to the ground as the branch started to move back into Sarthacus' wrist, the vampires slipping off of the end as it passed back through their chest or stomach.
The tip of the branch slipped back into the hole in his arm, until the only sign of a mini-bough being there was deep black blood of the vamps that dripped from a spot on Sarthacus's arm.
"Isn't that dangerous?" Aquila asked while the vamps lay dying on the road."Y'know, having vampire blood so close to your bloodstream?"
"Why, not at all," replied Sarthacus in his usual Scottish accent. "It has a sort of in-built sheath that stops unpleasantries from the world entering my body."
"Right," said Israel, sliding his shotgun into his legstrap and opening the back of his van. "History lesson's over, folks. We've got a ways to go, and by the looks of our luck so far, we'll be needing that dangerous box of mine."
I have got to go now, my dad wants me off.
One last thing....
.....HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALEX! Have an awesome day!
-Hellboy
P.S Louis has started going to TAFE. I dunno if any of you kno what that is, but it's sort of like Uni, i guess. (university) Just not as full on. I think. Hmm....
She has had it tough, so i want you to all go to her blog RIGHT NOW (or else) AND COMMENT! SAY HI! TELL HER WHAT'S BEEN HAPPENING! CONGRATULATE HER ON DEREK'S COMMENT! :DDDDDDDD XD
So that was one. Out of three awesome things that have happened today.
The second one, a lot of you probably already know about, because your blogs were chosen as well.
And THEN! Third, but definitely not least, IS THIS EPICA POEM WRITTEN FOR ME BY THE GREAT OCTABOONA AMBROSIUS!
OMG! LOOK AT IT'S EPICA-ness!!!!
Read on. I dare you... :P
The Susurrus
By The Great Octaboona Amrosius, Paragon of the Purple Horde
A susurrus in the wind
A zephyr along the highway of heaven and hell
Hellboy seeks with his far seeing eyes
That see beyond the future
To the time on the Morpheus Road
Where the great multitudes swarm
He seeks out each individual’s path
And their deathly destination
A susurrus in the wind
A zephyr along the highway of life and death
He sees an ancient figure
Bound for the ethereal plains
Filled with wraiths and phantasms
That hide in the mists and vapours
That torment the mind with ghosts and memories
From ages past
A susurrus in the wind
A zephyr along the highway of anger and sorrow
Hellboy watches a young child
Stand alone in the Field of Asphodel
His identity already fading
His pale spirit merging with the others
Joining the repetitious cycle
In the dreary grey grass
Of eternal stillness and neutrality
A susurrus in the wind
A zephyr along the highway of silence and commotion
Hellboy shades his eyes from the bold man’s fate
Who lived a life of cruelty and malice
Turning others joys incarnadine
As he walks the way to Sheol
To be purged in unquenchable fire
And smell the stench of his own roasting flesh
And taste the bitter flavour of charred hair and blackened skin
A susurrus in the wind
A zephyr along the highway of laughter and hatred
Yet here on the Morpheus road he spots a kindly woman
Who will spend her after life in the Blest Isles of Elysium
Safe from harm and suffering in an island of beauty paramount
Rewarded for her grace and virtue
She will find peace
A susurrus in the wind
A zephyr along the highway of war and peace
Yet few make the Blest Isles
Hellboy sighs
As the Road takes another victim
Destined for the dank dungeons of Vilhel
Where they will languish in the gloom
With slime brushed walls and dripping rocks
With only goats urine to sate their thirst
A susurrus in the wind
A zephyr along the highway of time and space
Far above the caves of Vilhel the sounds of feasting
Emanate from the Hall of Asgard
As a new arrival enters the Hall of Valhalla
To drink and feast in utmost luxury
Attended to by their personal Valkyrie
A mighty warrior devours a plump boar
As the mead flows freely
A susurrus in the wind
A zephyr along the highway of loneliness and companionship
The Pit of Tartarus
Hellboy shivers at the name
As he senses another soul
Enter oblivion
Tortured by beings greater than gods
Eyes stabbed out by mechanical men
The weeping sores oozing pus and blood
A plaything of Kronos
A susurrus in the wind
A zephyr along the highway of grief and comfort
Hellboy watches as another soul approaches the Pearly Gates
A convocation of angels in gold and white smile down
From the pure white banks of clouds that fill the pristine sky
An unearthly glow of majesty and splendour
A susurrus in the wind
A zephyr along the highway of order and chaos
The Five Rivers of Hades converge in a frothing torrent
Acheron- River of Sorrow
Cocytus- River of Lamentation
Phlegethon- River of Fire
Lethe- River of Oblivion
And Styx- River of Hate
They surround the Morpheus Road in swirling glory
In shades of darkest night to deepest crimson
And in the very centre of this quercivorous pool
With jet black obsidian shores
And amaranth tides
Stands a sentinel, a Silent One
Presiding over the multitude
Known only as Hellboy
A susurrus in the wind
A zephyr along the highway of air and fire
The sentinel looks out across the vast varied underworld
Yet fears to look into his own future
Or the core of his heart
He hears not the ringing for it is a knell
To summon him to heaven or to hell
A susurrus in the wind
A zephyr along the highway of humanity
Wow. You, Octaboona Ambrosius, are a truly amazing writer. You just...wow.
I swear, there's a tear in my eye :')
I was scrolling through these comments on my iPod, 12:00 at night, exhausted both physically and mentally, with a blank face, when I got to that poem.
A twitch. The smallest spark of confusion, then wonder, hope, and finally, emanating from within me, a smile. The twitch was replaced by a force greater than I have felt in a long time, and as I read on, the corners of my mouth upturned, completing it all into the biggest damn smile I've had in ages. I wanted to laugh in joy at the poem's magnificence, but it was still late at night. So I read on, biding my time and being content with my big smiles.
Everytime someone passed, I would flick the iPod's screen down against my chest, close my eyes, and feign sleep, quickly wiping the smile away.
But then the person would leave, I would flick the iPod up again, and read on, my smile creeping slowly back.
The beauty! Your poem trumps anything I could of even dreamt of writing. Thankyou, Octa. Thankyou.
-Hellboy
P.S cheers to you if you got the hidden message. I daresay it wasn't hard to find.
P.P.S 'Blest Isle of ELYSIUM' ETERNAL FTW!
P.P.P.S I don't know if anyone has noticed, but i added something that i;m going to be calling 'The blog of the week', a gadget somewhere above my followers. It's because i don't think that enough people read certain blogs, so if you all don't mind, i;m going to be advertising some. No self-benefit, i swear.
Anyway, every week i change it, and you're meant to spend five minutes of your time clicking on that link and looking around their blog, maybe leave a comment, and then follow it. And then treasure it for the rest of your damn lives.
That sounded kind of threatening....hmm...scratch that last part.
Just a note, still on an iPhone, which unfortunately doesn't support 'compose' mode- so no colors.
Alrite! Almost home! A shower, a bed that doesn't always deflate, T.V, and INTERNET!!! Mwahahaha!!!!
I don't have much to say, but it's been an awesome trip so far.
@Dragona Pine- I'm kinda still waiting for your reply to my reply to Alex's reply to Alex's own reply to yours to Kallista's reply to my reply to your inquiry.
.....I think...
If you got that, then go to the previous post and go from the bottom to the top.
That's, like, all I have to say, I will be busy unpacking and playing Internet games when I get back home, so I'll probably either post or talk again to u all in 12 hours time.
Ok, first, no story, not yet, and second, i was going to post this next part, but then i actually started working on the movie that is later explained, and i realized that it's all just to damn much work to do in one night. So here;s the post, and when i get back in one week's time (I'm going on an awesome family trip to a place called 'Moonta Bay', right on the beach, with my cousins so i just get to chill and right stories on my iPod for a week) i will post this once more as well as the movie, plus any pictures i have.
But i still encourage you all to do Lizzy's idea (go to the Eight Great Immortals blog to find out), the One Day Camera Challenge.
Rite, so here's the post that i wrote prior to giving up-i, uh, mean, re-scheduling- the time to post my really short movie.
Goodbye for one week, bloggers, i shall not be able to read any of your works until the holiday is over.
SO! We meet again, fellow bloggers.
I want to say-before this starts-that Lizzy's idea to carry around a camera for the day was an awesome stroke of genius.
So, i decided to. And i did take some photos, BUT, there hasn't been a whole LOT to smile about cos i've been couped up at home. 'n stuff.
And then, i got myself thinking. Hey, i should take a short movie. Like, REALLY short. Just showing my room, (however messy it is) and my bookcase. 'Cos my bookcase is special to me, and so i wanted to show you guys. :P don't worry, you can leave now if you want.
Rite, so here's my short movie. Altho, its probably going to take up 5 minutes of your life. So sorry for the inconvenience.
What was i saying? I;m wondering. No, i am Rambling.
Ramblings from a rambled soul.
rambled? LoL?
So here it is, enjoy, and then, (optional), go make a vid of your own, titled 'Rambles' or somthing, showing us all your bookcase or collection, or your room.
If you want to kno where this original idea started, head on down toThe Eight Great Immortals and it should explain it all there.
Well, here goes. I'm going to only be showing this for one week, and then i'll be taking it off the blog, mainly for security reasons.
*future Hellboy steps into past Hellboy's blog*
Future Hellboy:Sup, um, the movie isn't finished yet.
Past Hellboy: WHAT!?!
Future Hellboy: Yeah, it's a loooong story.
Cya all, i;ll miss you.
-Hellboy
PS i got LIES by Micheal Grant. The last in the trilogy. :D can't wait to read it.
I can’t believe it! It’s Christmas already. And guess what? I’m going to give you all a big Christmas present. First off, I am giving out the picture of Jodi Harte! That’s right!
So here you go, Lenka. And like Hell you deserved this.
(incoming pun alert-shield your eyes if you want)
The Ace of Hartes.
By Louis Bullock. Merry Christmas, Lenka Sweet.
By Louis Bullock. The original sketch.
And remember how in the comments of the last post i said that you would most likely only get one costume on Christmas?
Well guess what?
I LIED! MWHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!
(this is my fav. Image)
By Louis Bullock
By Louis Bullock. Keep in mind that we were using tracing paper at one point to show the different costumes, and so when i scanned it, i just placed the tracing paper over the original picture with your head, and so that's why you can see hair and rainbow clips over the hat. :P
Enjoy, Lenka Sweet. As i said before, you definitely deserved this.
AND THAT’S NOT ALL!
No, no, that’s not all!
I’m even going to post the latest part! How awesome is that?
So behold, my blogger friends, Endgame, Part 1, episode 6, Necros Nightbane.
(This is the last episode of part 1, just so you know. The next episode will be in Part 2, featuring different characters. But it’s not going to be for a while because I still have to plan the baseline of it. I know about 5% of what’s going to happen in Part 2. :P you’ll all just have to wait)
Necros Nightbane surveyed the misty mountains below him, glaring at each rock and outcrop as if it harboured some unknown enemy. When he had finished scrutinising every pebble in his sight, he sighed, turned on the spot, and focused his magic, leaning forward and then springing towards the small cottage several hundred metres in front of him. His form seemed to disappear, leaving nothing but dust whirling around in his wake.
He reappeared one hundred metres away, if only for a split second, to land on the upward slant and then spring back into the air, two fast for the normal eye to catch. He kept repeating this, moving at an inhuman speed, until he reached the cottage door. He outlined the inscribing on the door until it glowed, and then he muttered a word in Japanese that he had been taught by Ki-Yoko, and the door opened.
Inside, the ‘cottage’ was more like a fortress, built to withstand some of the greatest attacks. The walls were lined with all sorts of weapons, from blades and crossbows to rocket launchers and firearms.
He moved into the living room, which had been converted into a sort of makeshift medical facility, with Jodi Harte lying on the coffee table, an angry Ki-Yoko above her. When Necros entered, Ki-yoko rattled off a sentence in Japanese with a frown on her face. Necros just shrugged; he did this whenever the old crone spoke to him. She was useful, definitely, but seeing as how he couldn’t understand her for the world, he would just have to shrug and hope she wasn’t offended every time she spoke to him.
Dragona walked into the room, and gestured to Jodi, then spoke rapidly to Ki-Yoko in Japanese. She just nodded, then retrieved a small bottle with a green liquid from the shelf behind her.
“Where did you learn to speak Japanese?” Necros asked Dragona.
“Ah, I had some zombie-hunting work in Japan, and I wanted to learn how to call the zombie the worst Japanese cuss I could find before he died-again, that is-and instead I spent the better part of a month learning Japanese. My teacher wouldn’t tell even tell me any curses in the end either, and by that time the zombie had already decomposed. One of my least heard of journeys...”
Necros just frowned, and Dragona fired a question back at him. “So, how long do you think we have?”
“Well, I reckon that they must of tried and traced us as far as the foothills of these mountains, so they’ll be bringing in search parties to look for us. Once they do find us-”
“Wait- do you hear that?” Dragona cut in.
There was a low rumbling in the distance.
“Speaking of which...” muttered Necros, drawing his modified Colt M1911 and peering outside the window. “Shiza,” he said, backing away and aiming his pistol at the helicopter landing just one hundred metres away. He flicked the curtains across the window, hoping that the cleavers that had just disembarked hadn’t seen him. He peeked through the window once more, and counted the cleavers there. Fifteen.
One cleaver stood alone from the group, surveying the land with a slowly pivoting head. Suddenly the cleaver’s head stiffened, and it sharply turned to the window where Necros was, it’s visor glinting in the sunlight.
“Damn,” was all Necros said, then he drew an identical Colt from his jacket, swept the curtains aside and fired sixteen shots at the cleavers. More than eight found their mark, and Necros smiled grimly at this. He slotted two new clips into the pistols, holstered them momentarily, and turned to face Dragona, just as a Spaz 12 shotgun came flying towards him. Necros caught it easily, and he saw Dragona taking a similar shotgun from the wall, slinging a shotgun shell belt around his waist and sliding the pump action grip back.
“I see you already decided how you want to take care of those cleavers outside,” said Dragona, attaching a strap to his gun and slinging it over his shoulder. He went to the wall and heaved a huge stinger missile launcher onto his shoulder. “Yep, this should do it...” he muttered, just as Mary walked into the room.
“What the hell’s all this noise?” she said, her hand on the hilt of her Shaolin Broadsword. “It sounds like there’s a war going on-”
There was a smashing sound and the window beside Necros shattered, followed by as small cylinder that bounced into the room. “Go!” shouted Necros, as there was a small pop and the grenade started emitting a gas. “It’s tear gas- move!”
All over the house they heard the windows breaking, and the same pop as the tear gas grenades detonated. They ran to the kitchen, Dragona moving as best as he could with the Stinger missile launcher on his shoulders. Jodi Harte and Ki-yoko sprinted into the kitchen just ahead of them, Jodi clutching her side painfully. “Glad to see you’re back in the fight,” commented Necros in Jodi’s direction, then tossing his Colts to her. She caught them deftly, glancing back at Necros.
“Aren’t these yours?”
“Yeah, well I need you to take care of them for a while. I kinda got my hands full right now.” Necros reached under the kitchen sink, coming back with a bag of gas masks. He fit one on his own head, tightening the strap and then fastening goggles on as well.
“Who the hell keeps gas masks under the sink?” asked Mary.
Necros didn’t answer. Instead he cocked the shotgun, peered through the doorway and then ran into the cloud of tear gas, his form disappearing in the smoke.
I falter, reaching for the kitchen table for support. The bandages around my waist do nothing to help the pain, and even as I stand myself back up again, the wound re-opens and bleeds once more. Ki-yoko is searching the cupboards for anything that will help, and Mary is pressing tea-towels onto the bottom of the doors to try and stop the tear gas from reaching them. I lay the dual Colt pistols on the table, clutching my chest in agony. It should end. It could...
My hand stretches to one of the pistols, grabs it, and then slowly lifts it up. Ki-yoko and Mary are still busy, both of them facing the other way. One shot, and my worries would be gone. I feel the barrel of Necros’ gun touch my temple. I give a little smile to the world, and I rest my gaze on the glorious mountain range outside, the hills, the grass. Now, I think, but before my finger sqeezes the trigger, I hear the scream.
*****
Necros heard the scream, and instantly he smashed his frame into the door on his left, breaking it open and peering into the gloom. There, in the middle of the room, was Kallista, screaming. Men in grey uniforms were shining lights everywhere, and Necros identified them as Cleavers, armed with machine guns. The moment Necros entered, the flashlights attached to the cleaver’s weapons swung around, and Necros cursed, ducking back out of the room.
Bullets ripped into the doorway, centimetres away from where Necros stood, shotgun in hand. His mind went into overtime, and everything seemed to slow down. He had seen how many cleavers. He knew of their weapons. He counted the rapidly fired shots until he was sure they were out.
Smiling, Necros dived back into the room, firing at a cleaver point-blank. He came up from his dive roll and shot another one. His hand brushed against the bangle on his wrist and the gauntlet formed, covering his hand in time for him to swing his arm at a different cleaver. The soldier dodged, throwing his empty gun at Necros’ face. Necros simply sidestepped, letting the weapon smack another cleaver in the nose behind him. Necros raised the shotgun again, firing round after round into the defenceless cleavers. They fell, and when the final one had gone down, Necros grabbed Kallista’s gloved hand and pulled her out of the room. His hand gripped the Katana at his waist. He didn’t want to have to use it, but...
More flashlights. Necros dragged the now-quiet Kallista down under the coffee table. The booted feet of the cleavers thudded past. Necros waited for the last in the line to walk by, then motioned for Kallista to keep quiet, and they crept back down the hallway. The tear gas had almost dissipated in the air. Almost.
Kallista stood up, thinking she was far enough away from the Cleavers to stand the rest of the way. She drew in breath, but instead of breathing in a lungful of oxygen, she sampled the remnants of the tear gas as well. She made a slight choking noise, and Necros pulled her back down, covering her mouth with his hand. But it was too late. The last cleaver in the line said some unspoken order, and the whole group halted, turning slowly around. Necros willed Kallista to not react to the tear gas, willing her to be still, but to no avail. She sneezed loudly, but before the cleavers could even react to the noise, Necros had pulled the Katana from his waist, and swung it vertically in front of him.
The air shimmered. There was a moment of total silence; the calm before the storm, and then all hell broke loose. A wave of energy shot forward, slicing through the first cleaver to react. He flew backward, sliced in two, and then the other cleavers slowly raised their weapons to train them on Necros.
He was glowing with power, a shining red light that illuminated the cramped hallway. His eyes had no pupils, insted they were completely red, gleaming intenslely. “There’s a gas mask in my bag,” he barked to Kallista. “Take it and head to the kitchen. I’ll meet you there.”
Kallista nodded quickly, grabbed the mask and ran off into the gloom. “Just you and me, boys,” Necros told the cleavers, waiting for them to make the first move. None of them did. He didn’t care. They would have died anyway.
Necros lunged forward, the Katana stabbing through the chest of one cleaver. Necros whispered something and the blade lit up, then seemed to burn the cleaver from the inside out. He whipped the sword around, slicing it against a cleaver’s throat and then smashing the hilt against the helmet of another. The headpiece exploded inwards, sending shards of the visor into the soldier’s head.
There was a scream and Necros swung around, seeing another squadron of cleavers come forward, out of the gas cloud, revealing a figure in their mist.
“Dammit, Kallista!” Necros shouted, ran forward, but there was the sound of gunfire and Necros felt himself stumbling to the ground.
His hearing went first. He looked up, saw the cleavers stop firing, saw how Kallista’s mouth kept opening and closing in silent screams. When the feeling started to go out of his legs and his senses stopped being assaulted with pain, he knew that it wasn’t long now. His legs collapsed he toppled over, his blade tumbling out of his grip. The rune’s on the sword stopped glowing, starting to fade to darkness. He could feel himslef fading as well. His vision started to go, and he laid eyes on his attackers, hatred and anger clear. Kallista struggled, then broke free, running forward to him. The cleavers nodded to themselves, and one of them stood forward, a pistol suddenly in his hand.
*****
I try to warn her. My mouth fails to form words and the cleaver just steps closer and closer. Her eyes are filled with tears, as she realizes there is nothing she can do to help. She goes to stand and run but it is too late; the cleaver is upon her. He raises the pistol to her head-
Sword.
-Pulls back the slide-
Tighten grip. Stand...
-flicks the saftey off-
My power returns. That cleaver is a dead man.
-and pulls the trigger.
Kallista is still alive. Why? Because the bullet never left the barrel. My blade is wedged in the slide, and the cleaver steps back in wonder. Before they can even begin to react or reach for their weapons, I lift my sword above my head, aim it in the general direction of the cleavers, then swing it downwards, releasing an energy blast right into the midst of them. The ground shakes and I wrap one hand over my chest; it’s not long before it is covered in blood as well. The roof collapses on top of the cleavers, but I hear nothing, and only feel the shockwave through my legs.
I stumble over to Kallista, falling to my knees when I reach her. The part of the building above me could collapse at any moment, but still I push aside the rubble and bodies until I can pull her out. Her eyes are open, but she isn’t aware of her surroundings, at least not yet. With the last vestiges of my strength, I stagger to the door, Kallista walking in a daze beside me. I feel another quake as the rest of the walls and rooms beside me cave in as well, the dust clouding our way. I see a figure in the hallway ahead, moving towards me. His shape becomes more defined, and suddenly he’s pulling us, yelling for us to move. Dragona spots something behind us, and his eyes widen in obvious fear. He grabs us and pulls us to the ground, just as my hearing properly returns and I am assaulted with sound.
Explosions. Gunfire. Shells rip into the ruined carpet beside me, and I hear the distant firing of a minigun. It must be the helicopter, I think, as a rocket detonates behind my head and shrapnel flies. Dragona motions for us to move, and we do at a painstakingly slow rate, crawling on our stomaches to the doorway. Dragona is sweating and concentrating, creating a wall of air to protect us from the bullets and shrapnel. Slowly but surely, we make our way through the door, and then Dragona pulls the Stinger rocket launcher from on top of the couch, aims back through the door, and fires.
I can see nothing through the smoke, but Dragona must of shot the helicopter, because I can hear the whine of it’s rotors as it struggles to stay in the air. The whine becomes a screech of metal as it finally crashes, and the light from the explosion illuminates the messed up hallway.
Dragona drops the launcher to the ground, massaging his right arm. “Man, that hurts,” he mutters, and we walk back to the kitchen.
Jodi is unconscious in one of the chairs, one of the Colt pistols dangling dangerously in her hand. I reach forward and slowly retrieve it, flicking the safety back on and wondering what she had been doing before the pain of her wounds had most likely caused her to faint.
Ki-yoko is stirring ingredients to some unknown recipe in a silver metal bowl, muttering franticly in Japanese, and Mary is staring outside of the window, eyes fixed on the crash site of the helicopter.
“It’s a good thing that’s over,” she says to me. “Gave me a damnright scare.”
“It’s not over,” I reply. “I hate to sound clichéd, but it’s only just begun. That helicopter was a scout. I give it fifteen minutes tops before they come in with the reinforcements.”
“Then we don’t have a lot of time,” Dragona says, pulling out his phone and hitting speed dial. “Skyril, you there?”
Four kilometres away, in a foxhole near the summit of the nearest mountain, Skyril Oblivion dug out her phone from her pocket and put it to her ear. “What?” she said, shifting uncomfortably and wishing that she’d brought something to sit upon.
“They found us. Fifteen minutes until they’ll be here, gun’s a blazin’. You got that fifty cal, still?”
“Locked and loaded, Dragona. And with enough clips to stop a small army,” she answered, patting the scope of the 50. Calibre Sniper Rifle that was mounted on the edge of her foxhole.
“Good. ‘Cos we might be needing all of them.”
Dragona hangs up, opening the kitchen door and running through the house, opening the windows to try and get rid of the tear gas. I retrieve my other Colt from the table, and holster them both, moving back to the living room to review the wall of weapons once more.
The first gun I reach for is a P90 with various custom attachments, and I replace the Spaz 12 already strapped to me with it. I take down an M4A1 Carbine, sliding a sight on the tactical rail and adjusting the stock to a better length. Satisfied with my choice, I step back and let the others choose their weapons, and then I step towards the kitchen. Before I go, something catches my eye. I turn, and smile broadly at the Gatling Gun leaning against the wall in one corner, just asking to be used.
Fifteen minutes later
The sound of helicopter rotors spinning filled the crisp, clean mountain air, and I sit up eagerly, doing a last minute check on all of my weapons. I am sitting in what’s left of the ruined hallway, crouching amongst the rubble with the Gatling gun mounted in front of me. Ten helicopters, full of scythe wielding cleavers, were fast approaching to the cottage on the hill. A walkie talkie on Necros’ belt squarked, and Skyril’s voice came through.
“I have visual,” she said. “Ten helicopters, roughly ten cleavers in each one. That’s one hundred of ‘em. Not my kind of odds.”
“Mine neither,” I reply into the radio. “But there’s no other place to run. This is it. Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s been an honour working with you.”
A chorus of vice versas and ditto’s ring out from the speaker, but I am focused on the task at hand. I hold the trigger on the Gatling gun, spinning the large barrel and aiming it at the helicopters. “Eat this, Sanctuary bastards,” I whisper, and then let loose Hell in the form of bullets.
I can barely see if I’m getting any shots. The recoil is tremendous, and the tripod the gun is sitting on hardly helps. Suddenly there is the whine of rotors, and I realize I must have hit one. Then the helicopters start returning fire and I have other things to think about.
I dive to the ground, pulling a smoke grenade from my belt and throwing it at the ground in front of me. As the smoke fills the hallway and starts pouring out into the open air, the helicopter’s shots become more erratic as the pilots realize they can’t see me any more. I leave the gun where it is, launching myself onto the grass below as the first sniper rifle shot rings out. I run, faster and faster, the smoke covering my advance. The P90 at my side comes up just as I clear the smoke, reaching the first landed helicopter.
The P90 fires and the cleavers fall, one by one. When I get too close to shoot accurately, I slide my silver bangle onto my arm and touch the symbols, releasing the gauntlet. I slice through the cleaver’s grey jumpsuits, lunging this way and that, dodging scythes. The pilot of the helicopter pulls out a pistol and fires straight through the cockpit glass at me. I jump forward, the bullet passing just by my head, and I land on the glass, smashing the gauntlet hand into the cockpit and through the pilot’s chest. I pull it out again, take a quick look around, and leap at the next helicopter.
*****
Skyril pulled the trigger on the sniper rifle before her, took aim once more, and fired again. Her shot’s were true, but before long the cleavers where getting smart and hiding behind cover. She could see Necros attacking some of them through the scope on her gun, and she turned the rifle to her left, leaving him to deal with it.
There was a noise behind her, and she sprung up, two small knives in her hand. Billy-Ray Sanguine stood there, knife in hand, frozen to the spot. “Now, uh, this ain’t what it looks like. There was a snake next to you, is all,” he said. “I swear I wasn’t about to kill you.”
“Excuses, excuses,” replied Skyril, and she charged at him, swinging her blades.
*****
Jodi Harte sat looking at her broken sai sword blades, disappointment clear upon her face. She had been confined to the kitchen by Ki-yoko, declared ‘unfit to fight.’ So there she sat, with the crone asleep beside her, bored out of her life while the sound of gunfire was heard outside. She sighed, picking up one of the blades and turning it slowly in her hand, the weight of it all wrong. Every now and then Ki-yoko would sit up, startled, look around, and then drift off again.
Jodi yawned, her hand accidentally knocking a cupboard door. She went to close it, but stopped as she laid eyes upon the pair of perfect Sai swords resting there. She wondered if it was a dream, and almost pinched herself, when she came to the realisation. They were probably Ki-yoko’s. The whole cottage was hers, and the woman was so old that she had most likely sampled every style of fighting in her lifetime. Jodi shrugged. There was no harm in taking them out for a test drive. The crone didn’t need to know. And there were plenty of cleavers to go round.
Without another glance, Jodi grabbed the Sai swords, leaving her own broken ones on the table and heading out the door.
*****
Necros was out of ammo. He had gone through all of his two clips for his P90, and the M4A1 had less than half a clip left. He aimed his last couple of shots at two cleavers running towards him, then threw his guns to the ground, taking out his large rune covered sword.
There was the sound of running feet behind him, and he turned, swinging the sword as he went. It glowed blue as it cut through the cleaver there, and then shone red as it stabbed another one.
He backed into a defensive stance as a cleaver’s scythe clashed off of his sword. He jumped over the cleaver, flipping and carving his sword into the base of the cleaver’s skull.
Necros turned a full revolution, observing the mass of bodies around him. But it still wasn’t enough. They just kept coming. Infinite waves of the perfect soldiers. Just great, he though, summoning magic from deep within him. He let it out in a solid burst of energy at a group of cleavers near him, and they melted away without a word.
*****
So, did you like it? Are you amazed? Because if you were, there is something definitely wrong with you. My work isn’t amazing. Lenka Sweet’s work is amazing. Kallista Pendragon’s work is amazing. Alex’s work is amazing. Lizzy’s work is amazing. Leo Spark’s work is amazing. Mary Hiashi’s work is amazing. Dragona Pine’s work as well. And Oct..Octa…Octobanana…Octaaaabana…oh, whatever, you get the idea.
(btw, Octaboona is an awesome guy. Just cos I can’t get his name right, that doesn’t mean he isn’t awesome.)
WELL! What did YOU all get for Christmas, hmm? I got several DvDs (The Bourne collection, Hellboy 2), a book called 'Gone' by Micheal Grant, which i have been wanting to buy for MONTHS, and a super-awesome logitec ipod speaker that cost well over a hundred dollars, which i am listening to as i type (awesome...awesome...aawwwweeesooommmeeeee....)
Also, for those of you who are gamers, my dad got Modern Warfare 2, and i am trying so hard to install that too. ): slow installation, dammit.
Oh yeah, and EPICA!!!
P.S As some smart people might of already guessed, i was the 'Santa' that went around to some of your blogs. :P i don;t REALLY think i had any of you fooled.
Hello there. First of all, I just want to say that there will be a couple of links in this post, and I encourage you all to check them out.
I was reminded by Dragona by his blog ( Dragona's Blog ) of something that I've wanted to post about for a long time. There is a game, my friends, that defies the laws of gaming, because while it is the most unrealistic game I have ever played, it is simply ADDICTING.
This game, people of the 'verse, is Minecraft.
I love it.
I am addicted to it.
And like Hell you won't love it too.
What makes Minecraft so addictive that I haven't stopped thinking about it for the last few weeks? Well, the gameplay, i guess. It is still in Alpha mode (i think it goes Alpha, Beta, then the game is released), which means the actual game hasn't come out, and it is still being created, but it is down loadable Here, for free, but only the singleplayer.
The singleplayer starts you in a randomly generated map, where you are most likely surrounded by sand. And by sand, i mean blocks of sand.
Because that's what minecraft is all about. Blocks. The whole system is based on a pixel-like setting, which at a first look you may find it dodgy and not worth playing. But the thing is, this whole game was created by the legend 'Notch', who is around 17/18 yrs old. No company. No huge enterprise. Just a guy and his blocks.
Notch has created a complicated game with no storyline and endless possiblities. For instance, this is my house. After a good, oh, i dont know, maybe 100-200 minecraft days (24 minutes each, i think) i have created a castle-like building that towers over the land. I have built it so high that i have actually reached a point where i can't place anymore blocks. lol.
This is my house. Yes, that is a waterfall, and those are little torches lining up to the house. It started as a tower, and then i started building those islands in the air, to build my crops and grow trees. A Sky Farm. How original of me...Oh yeah, and that figure you see is me in 3rd person mode.
A little closer. This is my front door(s). There is a little gap between the door and the walkway i am on, so that when mobs (enemies) are following me up the walkway, i can open the doors, jump through, shut them, and they fall down into the pit.
Right inside, first floor. The door is down the bottom corner of the screen, it that general direction. 3 things to note here. One, there is a chest there, where i keep all of my mining tools and day tools (axes, spades, pickaxes, and torches). Two, there is a tunnel going down to my elaborate mines, full of lava, water, and possibly even dungeons. And three, this is in 1st person mode, and i am holding a block of dirt. Down the bottom of the screen is my health+inventory. Also, you can see some windows. Just marvel at that scenery.
Second floor. Around this time of making it, i had found heaps of cobblestone, and thats why the floor is no longer dirt. Bottom left is the entrance to the first floor. Straight ahead are stairs to the next floor, and also a chest where i keep all my diamond, gold, coal, ect. Above me is a little balcony made of glass, which we won;t get to, unfortunately.
Two more floors up. The ones we skipped where boring, really.This is the top of my castle/tower, where (for about five minecraft days) i was content with sitting this high. Then, as you can see, i got the bright idea of building outwards to make 'Sky Islands'. The big white thing in the top right is a block-cloud, which i am high enough for it to pass through my castle.
Pivoting 180 degrees, and we can see the beginning of my 'Islands'. On the left we have my man-made waterfall, which is pretty cool. Five buckets of water and viola, it goes all the way down the mountain. On the right we have a huge abundance of trees. Cos in minecraft, wood is one of the most important things in the the world. The other is coal.
This is my couch made of chests. Both of those chests are chock-a-block full of bread, which i harvested from those crops (On the right side. They go through about 6-7 stages of growing, and this is the final stage. After harvesting wheat from them, they also give you seeds, to plant more crops. Food gives you health when you have lost some. So far, i haven;t really left my tower for a while, so i havent needed the bread.) . There is a ladder there, which you can see leads up to the trees. And this is the last picture. Now go forth and download this game, or for the people with enough money, go and BUY it. Half price while it's still being created.
And that's the singleplayer. The multiplayer is much different, but just as fun. Plus, you don;t need to download anything. Just go to this website ( remember that you have to make a login first tho ), and then click on a server. You are given heaps of blocks and can do joint creations with other people, making stuff like boats and houses. Castles, beds, hotels, pixel art, the possibilities are ENDLESS! I have a login, and i suggest going to the 'Stormcom' servers. The one i go to is currently down, for some reason, so i guess it will be pure luck if i see any of you. When it does come back on, i will tell you all where to go, and we can have a massive party.
Until then, build, don;t 'grief'' ( when you go up to anyone's creation and randomly destroy blocks, deleting their work until it is an almost unrecognizable mess, causing "grief"to the creator. ) and enjoy minecraft.
Btw, the multiplayer is infinitely better. Mainly cos i can talk to you all there. :D
Now, onto other pointless discussion. Or not so pointless. I don't know how you'll see it.
Well, for owners of Blackberry phones (I'm looking at you, Lenka), last week i got the trackball on my blackberry replaced, because i lost it. It came all the way from China, and i was surprised that i got it for $3, so when it arrived four weeks after i ordered it i raced to my room to unite it with my phone. Now i am carrying my phone everywhere, and the ongoing story i have stored on there about Leo Sparks has tripled in size. Only thing is, now my media card has failed to work, and i lost a coupla movie trailers i had stored on there. I have backups on my comp, tho. XD
Ahh. But i need help. The internet won't work until i get some credit, i think, and the only thing i have left is the blackberry messenger.
Um, help, anyone?
For some dumb reason, i can't seem to add someone's email and then message them with this app. When i go to add a new contact in the messenger, it asks for a PIN Number.
wth?
I thought it was like an email, like inferno-joe@blackberrymessager.com or something. Help, plz?
And, uh, yeah. The next part of the story is taking longer than usual. D:
I did finish all my exams tho, and i did pretty well on them. Tuesday is the last day of school and then HOLIDAYS!!!!! YESS!! EPICA!
With holidays, both Louis and i will have more time to do creative stuff, instead of gaming and making songs. Our Dad wants us off the computer more, and so Louis says he will be drawing the next picture. Mary Hiashi, i think. Sometime this week. Hopefully....
OK! Well, i'm off to play some Minecraft! Good luck in playing it, get onto the multiplayer ASAP, and i'll talk to you all later!
