FAN-FICTION PART 4!!!!!!!!!!!

So, hi all. It's Sunday, it's 3:00 in the afternoon, and i'm kinda ticked off. 

Alrite, first off, i DO have the next part. It stars Skyril Oblivion, with a surprise visit from Jodi.

Lenka, the next part will probably be about you. Or maybe you, and then Mary, cos its her turn then Necros'. So after that, EPISODE 1 is finished, and i can berate Louis to hurry up and draw the next picture.

Now, that brings me to another item. Louis has told me that he is not going to draw the pictures so that they match the parts, but he will be drawing a picture for everyone in the story.

Now, i'm sorry for those who aren't in teh story, but this was a once off thing that Louis decided to do, and it's kind of a 'Thanks' for everyone who reads this Fan-fic and who wanted to be in it. So yeah, sorry.

So this means that while Louis HAS drawn Dragona Pine and he HAS drawn Jodi Harte, he is not going to be fixing them up on the comp straight away, because he doesn't want to. Which i told him is a terrible attitude, and, believe me, if we hadn't anything better to do, Louis and i could go on and on for hours about this, and still he would tell me he will do it in his own time. Now when 'his own time' is, i[m not quite sure. So, if there is any updates, i will be telling you, but otherwise, don't get your hopes up. Please.

The other reason why i'm ticked off is that i couldn't and still can't find my draft book. You know, the epic draft book where i put all my drafts? With the cover i had to get rid of?

Well, its gone, and i seriously am starting to worry. Last time i saw it was maybe two weeks ago. *cries* it asked if it could go to the local pub and i said 'Just be careful now, dear Draft Book. Remember, come back in time for dinner.'

But *sob* it never came back...it never did...

..i-I still have it's d-d-d-d-diner! A-a-and now it's c-c-cooolllddd!!!!!

*sobsobsobsob*

ok, jkes over, i still can't find it.

EVERYONE!!!! WATCH THIS!!!!!

Many of you know that there is a game coming out called 'Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood' and it will be bought by many more. For those who don't know this, well, i just told you.

Now, here is the awesome trailer that was released. Now, this, my friends, is ANIMATION!!!! This was not filmed with actual people. Look how damn realistic it is!!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zzNs4-kRLaE

Now that's pretty darn cool. But watch this next one too. This is the same trailer, but a cool guy with a channel called 'Tobascus' re-did it, creating a 'Literal' trailer.

A literal trailer has him singing opera-like and telling you all of the stuff that's happening. Sounds boring, i know. But the video's actually quite funny.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kKrtbUinWOU

Another thing that's really ticking me off is the fact that ive been sitting here for the better part of an hour writing the story and not once have i thought to get up and close the gorram window. Now i can't feel my feet. Or my ankles, for that matter....

SO!!! HERE IS FAN-FICION PART 4!!! ENJOY!!!!!


(this is from Skyril Oblivion's P.O.V)

I nod silently to my companions and then drop from the tree we are crouching in and sprint across the open ground towards the looming castle above us. Bullets and blasts of energy whiz past my head, but none find their target. As I near the fortress wall, Dragona Pine’s voice still rings out in my mind, clear as day.

“Alright,” he had said to the stolen van at large. “This is it. We’ve been running from these bastards long enough. It’s time to give ‘em what for. Tonight, we’re going to attack the fortress that this ‘healer’ is hiding in. Israel said that her name is Ki-yoko, and she definitely will be able to help us.”

At the word ‘attack’, my ears had pricked up. I was sharpening my small throwing knives, caressing them as if they were delicate beings who needed constant attention or else they would shatter at the lightest touch. This was, of course, partly true. Next to me Mary Hiashi had sat, sharpening her own Kunai throwing knives, solely focused on this task.

I remember continuing my work with renewed eagerness as Dragona talked.

“Unfortunately, the Irish Sanctuary has contacted the Japanese Sanctuary, and now the castle has been reinforced with mercenaries and sorcerers from all over this country. So here’s the plan…”

I bring myself back to the present as a machine gun rattles above me and bullets whiz past my arm, way too close for comfort. Three men on the battlements in front of me, daggers and guns in hand.

In a flash, my hand whip upwards, sending a throwing knife into the chest of the machine-gun wielding merc. He screams and plummets downwards towards me, as I leap high into the air. When he is level with me in the air, I snatch the knife from his sternum-waste not, want not- and kick off from his body with my boots, sending me even higher into the sky. I land in a forward roll, two knives wedged between my fingers. One of the mercenaries yells something in Chinese, but before they can finish, I slash my blades across his throat, then spin around and kick the remaining man over the edge, just as Necros, Dragona, Kallista and Mary land beside me. Kallista covers her mouth with her hand and turns away from the sight of the bloody mess on the ground. Dragona only nods and Necros ignores me completely. Mary unsheathes her giant Shaolin Broadsword and points to an advancing group of soldiers on the western battlements. “Skyril!” Dragona yells. “Stage one! GO!”

I don’t even stop to acknowledge this. Instead I fall lithely to the courtyard below, running straight to a door leading into the castle proper. My light footfalls barely echo through the small corridors, and after many turns and twists, I finally reach the door which holds Ki-yoko. It’s heavily reinforced with metal and locks of a sort that would take me days to get through. Of course, I don’t plan on unlocking it normally…

I unzip my backpack, carefully pulling out four small packs of C4 explosive, placing them on the ground. My fingers reach inside the bag to retrieve the detonator, when I hear the slightest intake of breath. I launch myself backwards, colliding with the figure behind me. I am the first one back on my feet, and I draw six knives from my belt, three in each hand.

Slowly, my eyes adjust in the gloom of the small corridor, and I finally make out the figure there. He coughs, clutching his ribs and cursing under his breath. He gets to his feet slowly, looks around, and spots me. “Howdy there, girl. I see you’ve been takin’ care of yourseslf, now.”

“Sanguine.” The words are like poison on my lips, and they leave my mouth with a snarl. “What are you doing here?”

“Same thing as you, little darlin’. So if you don’t mind…”

“Take one more step and these knives go right between your eyes,” I say, raising my left hand. Sanguine just chuckles. “What eyes, darling?” he says, removing his glasses from his face. I shudder. Those two holes freak me out more than anything else in the world…

“Doesn’t matter.” I’m surprised at how confident my own voice sounds. “I’m sure I have more than enough time to make you feel pain and grab Ki-Yoko.”

“Try me.” Sanguine unfolds his straight razor.

The seconds tick by. A bead of sweat rolls down my face. Come on, come on! Why won’t you work? I think furiously, concentrating hard.

Sanguine scratches his head, then all of a sudden bursts out laughing. “Oh, oh God, really? You-” his whole body racks with mirth. “Y-Your trying to blind me, aren’t ya?” I feel my cheeks go red. Sanguine pants loudly, unable to stop laughing. “Seriously, girl? Seriously? That’s the best you could come up with?”

Silently, I am asking myself the same question. What was I thinking?

Sanguine just taps his empty eye socket. “Once again, girl. Damn, you ain’t too bright, are you?”

That’s it, I think, lunging forward. He simply sidesteps, slicing his blade across the back of my neck as I shoot past him. The purple scarf I was wearing up until now drops to the ground, sliced in half. Anger fills me. “That was a two hundred dollar piece, you idiot!” I scream, and fling all six knives at Sanguine. He stumbles back, and then looks down at the six blades embedded in his chest. “No,” he breathes, then sinks downwards.

I pick up the fallen scarf, then head over to the door, and begin my work. Within five minutes, all of the wires are attached and the bombs planted. I grab my bag and retreat to a pillar, flicking off the safety on the small remote detonator in my hand. Without hesitating, I press the button, bracing myself. When no big bang comes, I peer around the pillar at the explosives. “What the hell…” I mutter, running back to the door. I start checking the bombs for faulty wires, but before I can find any, I hear an all-too familiar click sound, and I curse myself silently. “Can’t I just be left here to complete my objective?” I say out loud, and the rifle presses harder into the back of my skull. I half turn and see that it’s a mercenary holding the gun. I open my mouth to talk but he clips a collar around my neck and all of a sudden I can’t move. It pulses with a strange blue light, and I feel my powers ebb away as I am bound. The merc pulls out a small two-way radio and speaks in rapid Chinese. He speaks to fast for me to understand word for word, but I catch the general gist of it. He’s asking his superior if he can shoot me. No, my mind screeches. No, no, NO!

He finishes talking on the walkie talkie, his superior’s answer an affirmative. He takes a stance, aims, and gets ready to pull the trigger. Goodbye, world, I think, and a gunshot fills the room.

Jodi Harte pulled out a semi-automatic, custom made, tactical attachments equipped Berretta pistol, pulling the slide back so that it made a clicking noise and flicking off the safety. She glided through the corridors quietly, avoiding the mercs and sorcerers who passed from time to time. She followed the girl with purple streaks in her hair, and when the girl stopped, she stopped. Jodi watched as the girl disposed of Sanguine, then planted the bomb. She gazed as the girl took cover, and then wondered what had happened when the bomb didn’t go off. Jodi tightened her grip on the gun as she saw the events unfold, observed as the merc placed the collar on Skyril’s neck and raised his gun. When he began rattling into his walkie-talkie, she sighed. This was taking way too long. Just as the guard stopped talking and adjusted his stance to take the shot, Jodi brought up her own gun, aimed, and fired. Once the body fell to the ground, she moved forward to congratulate the remaining person.

*SIGH* Fine, whatever...

Well, you forced me to do it. So, here it is. Fan-fiction part.....ummm.....i can never get this right....watevs...

<JUST A HUGE NOTE: DRAGONA, I DO NOT HAVE YOUR PICTURE YET. EXPECT IT EARLIEST TOMORROW-sorry>

Here's something i prepared earlier, on account of me having no internet access:

XD thnx guys, you just brightened my day. To tell you the truth i had a pretty crap one, 2.'


Well, actually, it was only crap at the end.

So listen. Most of the girls and guys at school will steal your stuff and write things on it like "so and so thinks shes hot" or draw things on it. Right?
So i had it pretty bad for a while, but then they moved on, and just now i thought i could trust them all.

So i brought my draft book to school.

Now, my draft book is the book where i write all of my drafts for the fan-fic in. Believe me, when this is all over, you will be hearing a lot more about it. At the end of the day (its been pouring rain ever since 2:00pm) the school got to stay inside. So at the last lesson, we were all messing around in the classrooms and all of that. I was in a really cool teachers classroom, Mr. Crocker. it was packed and loud but i didn't mind. After some persuading, i got on his computer and started writing the fan-fic, while copying off of my draft book.

And behind me is one guy (i will not say his name) who is talking to the teacher with this other girl (still, not telling).

Now, i finish writing the fan-fic, and so i place the book to the side of me and play some games on the comp. I get bored, turn around and start laughing with this guy. He;s not technically my friend, but i wanted a laugh. I pulled out these random yellow circles of paper around about the size of my hand spreadout and made a joke with them, and the guy, being the idiot he is, grabs them and throws them point blank into my eyes.

Ouch.


I recoiled, asking him what the hell he was doing. he just sat there, staring. The circles are now all over the ground, and my eyes are hurting heaps. I turn to the computer to try and mask the fact, and i swallow the lump in my throat. 15 seconds later the teacher swivels his chair and sees the dots all over the floor. He asks what happened and, of course, the idiot guy says that i threw them on the floor. I tell the teacher the truth and he doesn;t listen, so i end up picking them up. Idiot.

But that's not the main event. Then, as i go back to the computer and start playing my game, feeling extremely fragile, i notice my book has gone missing. The girl has got it, and has her back facing me. Now this girl isn;t one of the main annoying people. She doesn't steal my stuff normally, and she doesn't say rude things or embarassing things behind my back. But there she is, hunched on the table, now holding a permanent texta she grabbed from a table. Fearing the worst, i ran around the table to see her writing on my book. I try to grab it from her, but she pulls it away, saying that she is only tracing the hands (its a textbook with random hands imprinted on it.). i stand there watching her trace the hands carefully. Satisfied, i move back to my seat. Minutes pass, and suddenly my ears prick up. The guy is now sitting next to the girl and he's sniggering, glancing in my direction every now and then. I pray like hell that they aren't doing anything to my book, but i know that they are. I stand, just as she replaces the book on the table. I stare at the love hearts and scribbling that now takes up the front page, including the "I love S-J" (a person at my school who everyone makes jokes about....cos in reality she's really zickig-look up this word in german-).

The girl looks at me and our eyes meet. I feel my face burning with anger. I put my gorram trust in this person. And she throws it away like it was nothing. Then, blustering, she says that it was the guy's fault, who has already left. But we both know that;s not true.

I ask her what the hell she thought she was doing, when i said only trace the hands, and she went against her and my words. Realizing how bad her mistake was, she then asks me if i would like her to fix it and i nod solemnly. She rushes over to the cupboard and opens it, flicking through the pages of my book. She sees no margins or titles, and notices (her eyes widen) that this is my writing book. She then prattles on about how good i am at the poetry that i read out last month to the class, while she sifts through the cupboard. Im not listening. I am only asking myself one question. Why? Why the hell did she do that? Why did God let her do that to me?

She grabs a piece of red paper and rushes back to the desk, grabbing the sticky tape. She prattles on once again to her a friend about my writing being so good while laughing nervously and taping the paper over her scribbles. I just stand there, silent and fuming. She hands me the book, smiling hopefully and i snatch it back, gripping it tightly. I stalk out, slamming the classroom door and moving to another classroom. I sit in a seat while the world moves around me, anchored to the spot and boring holes with my eyes into the red paper-makeshift cover.



God, i hate her.






Answers to previously asked questions:


I am 14 and in year 8. Everyone in my class is 14, or turning 14 this year. I guess things are done differently in your country, i dont know.

I do write alot. Every second that i grow bored i open my diary, find a new page and write a poem or a couple of lyrics to a song that i might have been listening to earlier. My whole world revolves around the internet, drawing and writing like hell.

GOD NO! NOT THE GLEE QUOTES!

the horror...oh god, the hooorrroooorrr.....


I have noticed, Alexzz, and i do thankyou. I really like my character as a semi-main person. Plus, i think its great that you tend to write your story in the perspective of someone other than yourself. THAT, as Mary Hiashi would say, is having 'class'.
btw, i do draft alot.


And that's about it. So, without further ado, i give you part...um...:/....just a moment...
AH GOT IT!


FAN-FICTION PART 3!!!!

Dragona Pine was being watched. He didn’t know who it was, but he felt that they were getting closer every moment that passed. His hands lingered by the dual blades strapped to his back, but he casually passed off the movement as a stretch so that he didn’t tip off his stalker.

He dropped to the ground of the old warehouse, pretending to tie his shoelace. In reality, he was reading the air around him, waiting for a disturbance. He didn’t have to wait long.

When he felt the air shift he instantly sprang forward, rolling to his feet some metres away. His blades came out and he slashed at the cleaver that stood there, slicing through his clothes and across his chest.

“Shit,” cursed Dragona, prodding the now unmoving body before him. He knew that he had mere minutes before the others were killed in their sleep. He heard a cry of alarm and turned to the wall of crates beside him, sweeping his arms. The crates flew apart and let him run straight to their camp.

The campfire lit everything in an eerie light, glinting off of the scythes that the cleavers swung. Dragona’s friends stood back to the crates ahead, fighting for their lives against the cleavers. With a roar, Dragona charged forward, his twin katanas slashing through the ranks of cleavers. But soon, he found himself in the same position as his friends; surrounded and being attacked by relentless foes.

Suddenly Skyril was beside him, throwing a knife into the throat of a cleaver. They stood back to back, battling on through the cloudless night.

A cleaver got lucky and jumped forward, rushing Dragona. He cursed once more, sending him towards Skyril for her to finish off. She looked up just in time to see a cleaver topple on top of her, stabbing his scythe through her leg. She screamed and a shape flickered into view beside her-Mary Hiashi- and then flickered back out of view again, carrying Skyril on her shoulders.

Necros jumped in to take her place beside Dragona, swinging the strange gauntlet on his arm so that it ripped right into a cleaver’s chest. Necros was still a mystery to Dragona. He had never heard of him and Dragona tended to stay away from people he didn’t know. And, as Dragona struck down yet another Sanctuary soldier, Necros was using the butt of his eccentric looking gun to knock the cleavers unconscious.

“Necros!” called Dragona. “What the hell are you doing? Hurry up and kill them!”

“No!” Necros yelled back. “They have a just cause-I shouldn’t have to end their lives!”

Dragona shoved a cleaver to the ground, stabbing a katana into his back. “It’s them or us, Necros. Now help me, for God’s sake!”

Suddenly, the cleavers charged, forcing Dragona to retreat. Necros took a deep breath, wishing that he was anywhere but here. Then he lunged forward at a cleaver in front of him. Moments before they collided, Necros seemed to disappear, then re-appear behind the cleaver, his gauntlet covered in fresh blood. The cleaver stumbled, touching his chest experimentally, then dropped dead to the ground. Necros continued to the cleavers surrounding Dragona, jumping past them- no, through them, thought Dragona- and landed far away. Gore dripped from the gauntlet, and Necros stood still, head bowed. Dragona stood, glancing around at the carnage that lay around him.

Mary’s image faded up next to Dragona. “Are they gone?” she said.

“Looks like,” he replied, scanning the bodies. “No thanks to you, by the way.”

“Hey!” Mary said defensively. “I was helping Skyril into the van!”

“Do you hear that, Necros? Mary was helping Skyril into the van,” he said sarcastically. “That totally beats us taking out all these cleavers.”

Necros didn’t answer. His head was still bent low.

“Necros?” said Dragona, stepping over the body of a dead cleaver, courtesy of Necros’ gauntlet. As Dragona reached out to touch his shoulder, Necros whipped around, batting the hand away from him. His eyes glowed red and Dragona stepped back-the whole floor seemed to tremble and shake beneath him.

“Don’t ever,” said Necros, his voice deadly quiet, “make me kill like that again. Ever.”

“But Necros…” Dragona didn’t understand. “It’s what we do. It’s what we-”
“No!” Necros’ voice filled the warehouse, and his waist-length hair flew wildly around his head, yet there was no breeze. “It’s what you do. It’s what babarians do.”

The runes engraved in Necros’ blade glowed red and all of a sudden there was a ball of crackling red energy in his hand. Dragona took another step back. Things were getting way out of his control. But that was the least of his worries.

Seven figures dropped from the crates above, landing with complete grace. Skulduggery Pleasant lead them, gun in one hand and flame in the other. The rest of the formation consisted of six cleavers, their suits a dark charcoal.

“Hang on…” said Mary. “What’s up with their clothes?”

“Elite,” breathed Dragona. “Damn…”

“Who?”

“The ‘Elite’ are these six cleavers, created after the first White Cleaver was seen. They are rumoured to be just as good as him. Let’s hope that rumour’s not true. Necros, you up for a fight?”

Necros was sitting on a crate, mesmerised at the bangle he was holding. His head shot up when he heard his name. “No. No more shall die by my hand in this dark hour.”

“Fine,” said Dragona, and Necros went back to staring at the bangle. “Just me and you, Mary. You think we can take them?”

Mary unsheathed the huge Shaolin Broadsword strapped to her back. “I don’t know. Chances are, we won’t make it.”

Dragona grinned, turning to face Skulduggery. “I hate chance,” he murmured, then called loudly to the skeleton. “Hello detective, having a nice day?”

Skulduggery slid the last bullet into his gun and thumbed the safety, but held it by his side. “Surprisingly, no. Now are you going to come quietly, or will I have to use the Elite?”

“Oh, don’t worry, detective. We’ll hand ourselves over. No fuss, I swear.”

The skeleton’s head tilted slightly. “Really?”

Dragona smirked. “Nah, jokes. Bring-it-on.”

They charged, and Dragona concentrated, swinging his arms wildly. Six cleavers and one skeleton were flung through the air, landing perfectly among the crates.

Dragona didn’t waste any time cursing and instead drew his dual swords. He gripped the handles tightly, until veins started to show along his wrists. There was a spark and the blades caught alight; burning until the metal glowed red.

“Nice,” said Mary, and then her form seemed to melt into the background. She reappeared behind an Elite cleaver seconds later, sword in hand. Dragona watched as she raised her blade, but before she could strike, the Elite spun around and grabbed the sword, twisting it until it fell from her grip. He kicked her in the face, turning the sword so that he held the sword in one hand and his scythe in the other. He started towards Mary but her image flickered and she faded to nothingness. The Elite just shrugged, sheathing his scythe and weighing the broadsword in his hands. He stepped forward and re-joined the ranks of the cleavers.

“Ah, Hell,” said Dragona, and they charged towards him. He blocked a scythe to his left, bringing the hilts of his katanas down on the attacker’s helmet. He aimed a kick behind him and it connected with the sternum of an Elite. Skulduggery’s hand came out of no-where and struck him in the windpipe; he went down and didn’t get up.

The Elite swarmed him, batting him with the blunt ends of their scythes. He needed to reach his fallen blades. If only…

Something smashed into the back of his head, and he sprawled onto the ground. But his swords were just in reach now, and he inched closer to them.

He closed his hands around the hilts and rose to his knees, just as the Elite closed in. They rained blow after blow on him with the pole end of their scythe. Dragona closed his eyes, absorbing every blow with an endurance the cleavers had never even dreamt of. That is, if they had ever had dreams.

Slowly, one by one, the Elite stopped hitting him. Was he dead? The cleavers thought. He hadn’t screamed or begged or cried out in pain. Had they…defeated him?

Dragona’s eyes opened. “My turn,” he whispered.

He brought his blades up, igniting them as he went. He turned a complete revolution, standing and slicing at the Elites. They stumbled back, but somehow the blades had not penetrated.

Dragona took a step onwards, reversing the grip on his swords and stabbing them into the ground below in one swift moment. A wave of flame extended outwards from the ground he stood on, sweeping the cleavers off his feet and sending them flying. Seconds later, Mary appeared beside him.

“Were you there all along?” Dragona asked, frowning.

Mary shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“Then why the hell didn’t you help me?”

“Oh. Well, if you haven’t noticed, one of them took my sword. Speaking of which…”

Dragona glared as Mary moved to retrieve her broadsword from the cleaver that had stolen it. He was laying motionless on the ground. Dragona saw a shape move behind her and went to warn her but it was too late-a gloved fist punched her in the back of the head and she went down. The rest of the shape emerged-the skeleton detective- and clamped shackles on her wrists.

Dragona moved to help but a burning cleaver raised his arm and tripped him. The cleaver stood up, and Skulduggery waved his hand, extinguishing all of the burning bodies. The Elite stood, rolled their shoulders, and simply dusted themselves off.

One of them came to Dragona, kicking him in the face. Dragona glimpsed the small tag poking out of the bottom of his suit-Bespoke Tailors. Bespoke, Dragona thought. Of course.

Dragona waited until the cleaver was standing right above him, and then he struck. His right foot snapped out, collapsing the Elite’s knee. Dragona sprung to his feet, punching a cleaver in the chest and tackling another.

The cleavers closed in. He beat one down with a well-placed kick to the head and then somersaulted over the rest, landing next to Mary. The cleavers recovered, attacking relentlessly. But Dragona seemed unable to stop himself; he blocked and flipped and weakened his foes.

Suddenly the cleavers parted, and there was Skulduggery with his gun pointed at Dragona. There was a pause, and Dragona looked up and stared at the empty eyes sockets of the skeleton detective. He saw no mercy there.

Then the pause was over and he pulled the trigger.

After two or three seconds, Dragona realised something was wrong. The bullet stayed exactly where it was, right in front of his head. The cleavers seemed suspended where they stood, arms bound by darkness.

Dragona watched the bullet slowly lower itself to the ground, noticing a sliver of shadow whipping away from it when it touched the ground. His eyes followed to a tall figure stepping down from the crates above. Her eyes were sky blue yet angry, and sharp shadows curled around her gloved hands. She swiped her hand and the shadows holding the cleavers spiked, ripping right through the clothes they wore and killing them instantly.

Skulduggery strained against his bonds. “Please,” he said. “Stop this madness.”

Kallista Pendragon smiled creepily. “Why?”

She whipped her hands straight and a spear of shadow zipped from her gloves, piercing Skulduggery’s skull and shooting him to the other end of the warehouse.

“Well?” she said to Dragona. “Do I get a thankyou, at least?”

........damn....

soooo....you reached 200 commments, eh? Well, let me tell you something....


THE LAST DAMN 20 COMMENTS WERE RANDOM!


so i want 20 comments. Yeah, got a problem? Ask Sarthacus and Geckogirl...its their fault....


btw, i forgive you kallista. I shouldn;t have been too hard. Fred is ok, i guess *eye twitches* ....

lol

lol.

Just plain old LOL.

When I said I want 200 comments i guess i didn't say that they can't be scribble and nonsense.

So, seeing as how at most 4 PEOPLE commented repeatedly, im calling foul play and asking for a re-match.

God, it's cold...

The time in the comments is correct to Australian time, so when you all commented and it said 3:41am, it means i'm in bed sleeping. Yes people, there is something called a time zone.

I have to say, i am ever so slightly annoyed. After wrapping up and going to bed with about 20 comments from Dragona and me, i rechecked this morning and found out that most of the new comments were either fighting, waiting for the next milestone, nonesense, or advertising for your own blog.

I am dissapoint.

(no, that;s not spelt incorrectly, its a meme, look it up)

SO.

I want ANOTHER 200 comments, THIS TIME, HOWEVER, there is no nonesense, no copying and pasting, and ONLY 30 comments maximum per person. 

That doesnt mean ooh look at my blog and btw this is a comment or  have at you, foul beast! *sword fighting* .

Because my hand strays closer and closer to the "delete" button every second.

SO GO, Derek's Minions! Comment, darn it! But in order for this too work, I want as many people who follow my blog as possible to comment!



Oh, i almost forgot.


Has anyone been to Kallista Pendragon's Blog recently? 

I checked it and there is litterally NO posts. Her story is all gone, and i don;t know how to contact her.

Help is needed, my followers/stalkers. Help is definitely needed...

Howdy!

Today's post comes in 3 parts:  (nerdfighters ftw!)



PART 1.

Ok. Well, I know that there are those out there who want more fan-fic. Well guess what?!?

duh-d-d-duuuuhhh!

There will be no fan-fic in this post.

Yeah, that's right. FIRST OF ALL, I want to see 200 COMMENTS within the next TWO WEEKS.

And BECAUSE Dragona Pine is the star of the next part, and i swear i have not seen a single comment from Dragona  AT ALL, I want a LOT of them to be from you, Dragona.

Spread the word, tell him to hurry up over here, because, let me tell you, I "might" just "accidentally" click the delete button on the fan-fic and you'll never see it again.

PART 2.

Lenka, that scheme (Look up to part 1 ^^) is the scheme i was talking about.

PART 3.

Necros, don't be ridiculous. You can;t threaten me to write. In fact, guess what? Effective immideitly, i am asking for 200 comments until i write again! Yep! You heard right. For more details, see part one.


BUT! Hope is on the horizon!

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Nah, just made that up. There is no hope. To prove my point, you now have 1 and a half weeks to post 200 comments.

Yeah, i'm evil....

KALLISTA PENDRAGON

Hi all, this is because Louis has *finally* created a new picture. Yes, Kallista, it's you.

But first, we are going to just think back a little. Remember back to when i started this blog? And i said that im going to make you all listen to the songs i like some day?

Well guess what. They day has come.

Seeing as how the next part of my fan-fic (Dragona Pine ftw!) isn't complete, i'm going to have to make do with something else.

If you have not read the most recent part of the Fan-fic (Kallista Pendragon), which i know a lot of you haven't, then SCROLL DOWN!!!

So, here we go!

This was originally directed to Kallista, who needed this, but I want EVERYONE to listen to these songs and read what i have written.


EVERYONE....
Inspiration:
It all depends if you already have an idea on where your story is going. In my head, i have already mapped out exactly what is going to happen. I have drafts, and my drafts have drafts, and then i have a timeline and a character bio sheet. A good thing to do for inspiration is to go for a drive. recently, my family went to the park way down by the river in the city. i brought my draft book and sat, watching ordinary people walk by. I would look at some and try to guess what crime they would have committed if they were in my story. I would note all of the little things. A pelican feather in the river, a lone man (this is no joke) wearing a kilt, headphones and rollerskates.

Then, once i got home, i lay down on my bed, listening to music.

The best music, the ones that inspired me the most, are these:

(i expect you to listen to these, you know)

 (Song)         (Band)

 Watercolor-Pendulum

Got2know-Flux Pavillion

Winter Winds- Mumford and Sons

Vietnam-Crystal Castles

This Momentary-Delphic

Star Guitar-Shnichi Osawa

Street Lights-Kayne West

Red (Chasing Shadows Remix)-NiceNoiz

Oh!-Boys Noize

Innocence-Nero

I'm Not Alone-Calvin Harris

Hide and Seek-Imogen Heap

Doubt-Delphic

Distress Signal-Pendulum (You'll all be hearing a lot more about this song in upcoming posts)

The sea is rising-Bliss 'n' Eso

Air Raid-Flux Pavillion (when listening to this song, don't get bored. Wait for the siren at 00:52.)

Anything New-Digitalism

Moonlight-Digitalism

Pogo-Digitalism
(Good songs when writing high octane stuff):

Hold Your Colour-Pendulum

Stress-Justice
 

I can walk on water, I can fly-Basshunter

Well, there you have it. Listen to them, enjoy them, and if you havn't visited my site in a while, SCROLL DOWN AND  READ THE STORY, GORRAM IT!


Kallista Pendragon. A student of most disciplines, this warrior is not to be messed with.

 By Louis Bullock

Kallista, I'd like to present to you these two wonderful images, both drawn by the soon-to-be-famous

Louis Bullock. Go forth and share, and show as many people as you can.

Well, im off. My back is just starting to hurt again, and I've got icecream to eat. So g'night and good luck to everyone out there.

-Hellboy out

 

FAN-FIC PART 2 ~~KALLISTA PENDRAGON~~

*epic sigh*

my back is caining right now. its 10:00pm and i really should get to bed soon. *epic sigh x2*

First off. I AM SORRY.

My brother could not make the deadline and draw an image of you, Kallista. He had to make it to an important conference (a.k.a party) and so was totally unprepared when he came home at 9:00pm and i told him to draw you. So, on behalf of my brother, your drawing completion deadline has been moved. 

Most likely, and when i say this i mean a HUGE possibility, that it will be on FRIDAY. *epic sigh* god, my back hurts.

So maybe 7:00pm, maybe 8. But that's on my watch, of course...

NOW, just because i don't have an image of you, doesn't mean i'm not going to give you a part in the story. :D in fact, Kallista, here's your consolation prize:

STORY:

(i literally just completed this part. I havn't even finished the draft of the next part, so i would expect part 3 on saturday. poss. nxt wednesday. Just a precaution :D) 

Kallista Pendragon ducked under the swinging scythe of a cleaver, and then splayed her hands to send the scythe spinning away. Not even pausing to notice his obvious lack of weapons, the grey-suited soldier charged, a fist drawn back. She grabbed the punch and used the cleaver’s own momentum to throw him over her body and onto the ground. Her old judo master would have been proud.

Kallista had studied a vast amount of magic, practicing well to master them. One such example of this was her elemental powers. She had chosen to delve deeper into the earth part of them, finding strength in the land. Closing her eyes now and gripping the arm of the cleaver before her, she drew the rock from the ground and covered him until he was nothing but a statue. The effect would end in a few hours, leaving the stunned cleaver alive and well. Satisfied, she turned around, and a fist collided with her face and the darkness came.

When she opened her eyes, she saw the one called Necros battling her assailant. He pulled out an eccentric looking gun and fired at the cleaver, point blank. As the cleaver fell, Necros bent down and shut his eyes, muttering some unknown prayer. Then he stood and grabbed Kallista’s hand, dragging her to her feet. “Come on!” he shouted, as her hearing returned. “We have to go!”

They ran out of the alley way, only to be confronted by more cleavers. “Skyril,” muttered Mary. “This would be a really good time to…”

“I’m on it!” said Skyril, hand outstretched. Simultaneously, every cleaver fell stumbling, trying to rip off their helmets. One of the cleavers managed to and Kallista saw that beneath their eyelids was an abnormal white light. They clawed at their eyes as she ran to catch up with the group. She sprinted just behind them, feeling her lungs burn. She saw herself falling behind as they raced through the Japanese streets. I’m not built for this, she found herself thinking. I’m a sixteen year old, for God’s sake!

But she wouldn’t let herself be seen as a novice in her friend’s eyes. Kallista pushed herself, and soon they emerged out onto a road, just in time to see a skeleton and a barber hopping into a van.

“Oh,” said Skulduggery. “Hello…”

“Hello!” replied Mary brightly, and punched him in the jaw.

Necros slipped on a silver bangle, touching three symbols on it. More parts flowed out from the first, extending outwards and enclosing his whole arm in armour. On his hand he now wore a silver gauntlet, shining in the afternoon light. Kallista watched him slash through Skulduggery’s jacket, scraping across his ribs. The skeleton grunted, and Ghastly frowned. “Hey,” he said. “I made that suit…”

The skeleton detective’s gun flashed out, and he rested the barrel on Kallista’s forehead. Everyone froze.

Her heart pounded, and distantly, beyond its loud throbbing, she heard Skulduggery talk.

“And now the tables have turned. I’ve had a really bad day, so there’s no reason why I won’t pull this trigger. Now, if you would all kindly slip on these shackles I have waiting for you, I will put the gun away.”

“You wouldn’t,” said Skyril.

“Try me.” He thumbed the hammer.

No-one moved. Dragona opened his mouth to speak and Skulduggery pulled the trigger.

The gun clicked. Kallista stared at the empty barrel and blinked. Skulduggery pulled the trigger once more, just to make sure, then shrugged. “Damn,” he said, sliding it back in its holster.

Ghastly shook his head. “You wasted all of your bullets trying to shoot Dusk, and even then you missed him.”

“Ah well,” said the detective. “Back to basics.” Fire leapt into his hand.

“You do know we outnumber you six to one?” questioned Kallista, her heart rate finally returning to normal.

“Yeah. But we’ve got reinforcements.”

“Where are they?”

Silence. “They’re coming.”

“Can they get here in thirty seconds? Because that’s when we’re going to be riding off in that wonderful van of yours.” said Skyril.

He paused. “Ah, no.”

“Good,” she said, and blinded Ghastly. Skulduggery threw his fire ball at Kallista, and she dodged to the side. She stood, shadows curling around her gloved hands. The gloves themselves were a design stolen from the Necromancer Temple, when Kallista used to go there. Then she realised how much time she was wasting waiting for the end of the world, and she quit, taking the knowledge she had learnt and the black gloves with her. Plus, she hated those clerics. It was always Death Bringer this and end of the world that.

She swept her arms and a wave of darkness slammed into Skulduggery and Ghastly, sending them flying down the road. They piled in to the van, driving off.

“Well,” noted Dragona. “That went well.”

“Yep,” said Necros. “In one day, we were double crossed, attacked, almost arrested and held at gunpoint. What a great day.”

“Wait-” Skyril looked around the van. “Where’s Bridget?”

All was quiet. Kallista spoke up. “You don’t think she’s…dead?”

“No,” breathed Mary. “We would know by now. She’s probably just…just…”

She didn’t finish her sentence. She couldn’t. Everyone just sat there, heads bowed and eyes wide. None of them spoke, because, quite frankly, they couldn’t.

*****

The Japanese warehouse was old and unused. Crate upon crate were stacked haphazardly, filled with forgotten machinery and packing foam. They wandered past the boxes and finally found a good enough place to hold out. Kallista helped light a small fire, then jumped the crates, climbing until she found the highest point. She slipped on her Skull Candy headphones and scrolled down until she found Watercolour by Pendulum.  Instantly, the lyrics began to swim back and forth within her mind.

When I'm falling down
Will you pick me up again?
When I'm too far gone
Dead in the eyes of my friends

Will you take me out of here?
When I'm staring down the barrel
When I'm blinded by the lights
When I cannot see your face!

She gathered her kimono around her and let herself doze, listening to the song on repeat.

Kallista woke with a start. She had heard a noise, far off. She sat up, curious to see what had woken her.

She heard the noise again, off to her left. She read the air with her fingers. Damn, she thought, scanning the warehouse quickly. How the hell did they find us?

She spotted them, a small group of dark figures moving through a gap in the wall. They moved quietly and gracefully, using hand movements and signs copied from the military. The last person walked in, his hands to his head. Finbar Wrong, identified Kallista. Of course.

The intruders crept silently along, splitting up to find her friends. She needed a weapon. The only one she had were her necromancer gloves, but she had left them in the car.

“Damn,” she muttered quietly, then looked around for another way to the vehicle other than the door. She saw the skylight above her and got to work fiddling with the lock. She climbed onto the roof, unsteadily crouching there.

Kallista slipped and fell, sliding along the slanted roof. She struggled as she neared the edge, realising that she was going way to fast. There was no-way she could just slide off that roof without breaking her neck.

“Ah, to hell with it,” she cursed, pushing at the air. Her body flung off of the roof, arcing silently through the night sky. Then gravity took hold and the moolit ground rushed to meet her. She used the air to cushion her fall, then scrambled up and ran to the van. The doors were locked. She almost screamed in frustration, but kept her cool. Her hands touched the ground and the earth seemed to latch onto them, covering her fist completely in rock. She gave her arm a couple of try-out swings, and then smashed it into the window. The glass shattered and she focused on ‘shedding’ the rock so that it fell to the ground.

She could see her gloves sitting on the back seat, and she reached inside…

Her kimono’s long sleeves snagged on a piece of glass, still attached to the frame of the window. She tugged at it, and was hoping her friends were alright when she saw movement in the reflection. With milliseconds to act, she grabbed the gloves, flinging them out of the van and kicking out behind her randomly. She heard the kick connect and the attacker grunted and rolled as Kallista spun, flame in each hand. It was only then with this light that Kallista saw who it was.

“Valkyrie?” she asked, holding the flame closer.

“Kallista?” came the reply.

For a split second, they relaxed in the company of each other. Then there was a scream from the warehouse; the fight had begun.

“I need those gloves,” Kallista told Valkyrie. “Right now.”

“I’m sorry Kallista. I…” Valkyrie hesitated. “Why’d you have to go do it? You could have stayed as far away from them as possible. You didn’t need to get caught up in this. I…I tell you what. Because we’re friends, I’ll give you one chance. Walk away now, please.”

There was another scream. “I’m sorry, Valkyrie. But we both know I’m not going to do that.”

Valkyrie sighed. “I didn’t want to do this, Kallista. But you leave me no choice. I guess I’ll see you in jail.” She raised her hand and the air around Kallista’s head disappeared. She had mere seconds before she’d become unconscious.

Her gloves lay by Valkyrie’s feet. She devised a plan, just as the darkness started closing in. She hated that feeling. When she had to gasp for a breath that she knew wasn’t there. It reminded her faintly of a dying fish, unable to breath without water in its gills.

She took hold of the earth beneath the gloves with her elemental skills, manipulating it as best as she could. She yanked her now-numb arm back, spiking the ground and shooting the gloves at Kallista. She slipped one of them on, not feeling the cold of night anymore. Valkyrie just stood there and frowned as Kallista swiped with her hand, and the darkness rained upon her.

Instantly, Kallista’s breath returned, and she crouched there, breathing heavily. She glanced at Valkyrie’s crumpled form, feeling an ounce of guilt, and then got up and ran.

Her friends were in trouble, and she wasn’t about to let them down.

FAN FICTION- BRIDGET WHIPLASH

Hello, and welcome once more.
Yeah, i guess u didnt expect to see me here, now did u?
Well, im back for a bit. So ill post this and then post more on Tuesday. Probably another post on Wednesday, and Friday too.

Bridget Whiplash. For some, the name is a threat, and to others, it's just the name of someone they haven't met yet.
Nonetheless, it strikes fear into the hearts of even the most confident fighters. I hope your all glad she's on our side...

By Louis Bullock

Lizzy, it's your picture now, do whatevs. Louis told me to tell you that he didn't want to do any drawing today, but i said that i was posting the next part with you in it and i thought it was appropiate so i said bad luck, now DRAW, GORRAM IT!

I just want to say, in my view, the whip REALLY DOESN'T look like a whip. Louis says that that is how a whip looks like, so i should shut up and continue writing my story.

He has a point....

STORY:



Getting on the plane had been relatively simple. Jodi Harte had distracted the guards with a quick game of ‘toss the coin’ while the rest of the group had shuffled through a gap, avoiding the metal detectors and hiding their weapons under their coats. Of course, the guards all of betted on heads or tails, and so they were all shocked when the coin landed on neither, balanced vertically on the little rim. Jodi had even let them toss the coin a few times on the counter as well, just to make sure that it wasn’t rigged. What they didn’t see was Jodi’s hand manipulating the air around the coin under the table, making sure it always landed on the side with the least bets placed. Then she walked away, placing a now-full purse into her white skinny trousers.

“That was a cruel trick,” Bridget told her, handing back her Sai swords, wrapped up in a piece of cloth. Jodi just shrugged and kept walking. Well, I guess she’ll learn, thought Bridget as she took a seat on the plane in front of Jodi. One of these days, anyway…

The plane was filled with state-of-the-art technology. Everything from gaming consoles and MP3s to laptops with Internet. Bridget selected a Vaio laptop from the rack beside her and turned it on. While she waited for it to load, her grey-green eyes surveyed her surroundings. Behind her, Jodi had finally fallen asleep clutching an ace of spades. In front of her was the one called ‘Necros’ who had joined them outside the airport. He had said less than six words in the past two hours. He had a presence around him, much like her. She didn’t know much about him, and he didn’t seem to be telling. But that was OK. Bridget liked it better that way.

When the laptop was up and ready, she moved a delicate finger across the mouse pad, selecting an internet messaging program and entering a number.

All the way back in Ireland, Israel’s phone buzzed and he picked it up. He ordered another glass of beer, checking that Lewis hadn’t left the Templar Bar. He squinted at the screen just as a message appeared, signed by Bridget.

What else did u c? It said.

What? He texted back.

The vision. I kno u saw somthng else, Israel.

Israel hesitated. He hadn’t planned on telling anyone this. He wasn’t sure how the group would take it. But he couldn’t hide it now.

We failed. Evry pth we chose, Lewis blew. We all die + u kill me.

Bridget Whiplash stared at the message on the screen. Her eyes were reading the words, but her mind just couldn’t comprehend. She wouldn’t do that to him; he must be wrong. But deep down she knew he wasn’t.

Dtails? She sent back.

Fuzzy. Solomon Wreath involved, Lewis blows, u turn vamp.

That y im in Japan?

Yes. Had 2 get us far apart as poss.

Understandable.

Idk if we changed it tho.

We’ll just have to find out then, finished up Bridget, closing the lid and returning the laptop to it’s rightful place. She laid back in her seat, her mind a mess of thoughts. She wouldn’t kill Israel. It wasn’t true…

Jodi sat back, satisfied with what she had learnt. With Bridget now gazing out her window and un-aware that her conversation had been watched by a skilled con-woman, Jodi set to work. She took out her own laptop from the shelf beside her and opened the messenger program. She typed in the two numbers written on her palm, sending them the same message.

Got information. The message read.

Two replies came. One was from the vampire Dusk, and the other from Skulduggery Pleasant.

Both sent a reply that said: Gud. How much $?

Lots, she wrote back. Lots and lots…

They got off the plane without incident, and Jodi did the same trick to the guards while the rest of the group passed by unnoticed. When they got outside, Jodi stiffened.

“What’s up?” asked Skyril.

“I think I heard something…” Jodi frowned, and then her face brightened. “Over here!” she called, jogging into an alleyway. Bridget followed Jodi there, the other’s not far behind. But when she turned the corner, Jodi wasn’t there. The alleyway was completely empty.

Too late, she realised it was a trap, as a figure dropped from the sky, landing on her. Bridget snarled and threw the figure onto the ground. It rolled, pulling out two Sai swords from it’s belt. “Miss me?” said Jodi, a smile on her face.

Cleavers dropped from all around, surrounding her friends and her in the alleyway. At an unknown signal, they converged and attacked.

Bridget sprung and clawed at Jodi, trying to a grip around her throat.

“I didn’t know being a traitor was apart of conning,” hissed Bridget as she slashed Jodi across the face with her long nails.

“Nah,” replied Jodi, wiping the blood off her face. “Only being better than a vampire at fighting.”

“We’ll see about that!” said Bridget, throwing Jodi up against the alleyway wall. She went for a punch and Jodi ducked, bringing one of her Sai swords towards Bridget’s face. There was a blur, and the blade was flung out of Jodi’s hands. Bridget tripped her easily.

“You’ll never win, child,” she said, keeping Jodi down with the toe of her boot.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jodi said, summoning flame in her hands. “I think I’m doing just fine.” She thrust her arms backwards, igniting both of Bridget’s legs. Bridget jumped back, patting down the flames. She looked up just in time to see Jodi propelling herself up onto the roof, her arms spread wide.

“Damn,” cursed Bridget, leaving her friends to deal with the cleavers. She jumped back and forth between the alleyway walls, finally reaching the lip of the roof and pulling herself over.

Jodi was in front of her, running across the rooftop. She was fast, that girl, remarked Bridget as she sprinted towards her. But not fast enough…

Bridget saw Jodi reach the edge and jump the gap landing safely on the other side. Moments later Bridget herself followed suit, clearing it easily. Jodi didn’t even spare a glance to see where Bridget was. She actually thought she had a chance.

She obviously wasn’t thinking.

*****

The gap between them became shorter and shorter, and soon Bridget was metres away from tearing Jodi apart.

Then Jodi disappeared. It took a moment for Bridget to realise that she had dropped down a gap and into another alleyway. Growling at her own incompetence, Bridget followed, landing gracefully next to a dumpster. She ran out of the alleyway and turned left. But two steps in the direction of Jodi, Bridget froze.

There, standing in the middle of the road was Jodi, panting slightly. But Bridget’s eyes weren’t fixed on her.

Beside her, hunkering down on the grey asphalt, was possibly the only person who was fast enough, strong enough and good enough to catch her.

“Good evening, Bridget Whiplash,” said the vampire Dusk, showing off his pointed teeth. “Fancy seeing you here. Well, I’ve been paid by this wonderful woman to take you down in any means I like. So, before we start: Are you going to come quietly?”

Bridget stared. The fact that Dusk hadn’t sprung and attacked already and was wasting time with stupid talk meant that in his mind, she was already dead.

Bridget didn’t hurl insults or utter an oath. She simply turned and ran.

And Dusk bounded after her.

The street was empty, so Bridget pulled out her bullwhip and cracked it above her head. It wrapped around an old shop sign hanging above a doorway and she used it to swing up onto the roof of a truck parked by the side of the road. She ran the length of it, hearing Dusk’s steps right behind her. Then at the last moment, instead of jumping back to the ground below, she dived in through a window of the building parallel to her.

Dusk cursed behind her, then followed. Bridget dodged left and right, using the furniture to her advantage. She passed the kitchen to where an old Japanese woman was cooking food on the stove. The woman shouted angrily at her, but Bridget was already moving on to the balcony. She jumped the gap and landed on the other balcony, running through that house as well.

She had lost sight of Dusk, and a small part of her thought she was going to make it. She mentally slapped herself and that part of her shrivelled up and died. She was only buying time. Sooner or later, he would find her.

She came up to the next balcony and leaped across it. She caught sight of Dusk and she started. How the hell did he get up there? She thought as his slender build cleared the rooftop gaps above her. She changed tactic, dropping to the streets below. But Dusk was two steps in front of her, already landing lithely at one end of the street.

She did a 180° and got three steps before she saw them.

The skeleton detective came first, gun in one hand, flame in the other. Beside him was Ghastly Bespoke, fingers curled into fists. On the other side of Skulduggery was a young man with impossibly styled hair. Bridget didn’t know him, nor did she really care.

“We’re not interrupting something, are we?” asked Skulduggery, levelling his gun at Bridget’s head. “Some crazed, demonic vampire ritual where you run across rooftops every fifth moon in Japan? No? Good.” He fired two shots, each in rapid succession, one at Dusk, one at Bridget. The bullets whizzed past their heads, a hair’s breadth away. Dusk didn’t flinch whatsoever. Bridget did.

“Those were warning shots. Recently, these are becoming more and more frequent. But I won’t be making a habit of it. Bridget Whiplash, seeing as how you haven’t actually killed anyone yet, we’ll only be taking you into custody. Dusk, sorry, but no cigar. We’re going to have to kill you.”

Dusk shrugged. “Fine by me.”

Bridget couldn’t believe this was happening. Their plan had fallen apart so easily. She needed to escape, to regroup with her friends. To her right was an open doorway. She was less than two metres away from it.

Skulduggery was talking, saying something along the lines of You have the right to remain silent. Her gaze drifted to the boy with porcupine hair. His eyes were trained on her, waiting for her to try and escape. She didn’t disappoint.

The moment her foot moved in the direction of the doorway there was a small pop and he was standing beside her, arms outstretched. Bridget swung, snarling, but he was already gone. Arms grabbed her from behind and then her world spun. When she looked back up the Japanese skies of bright blue had been replaced with the dark grey heavens of Dublin. Distantly, she heard the chink of handcuffs, but she was unable to stop it; her mind was still fuzzy from the teleportation.

“You alright, Fletch?” said a voice, and Bridget turned her head to the source. The boy with wild hair nodded back to a dark haired girl, the one who had spoken. She turned to Bridget, smiling. “You must be Bridget Whiplash. I’m Valkyrie Cain,” she said, dragging Bridget to her feet. “Welcome to Ireland.”

All of a sudden, Bridget’s mind cleared. She was back in the same country as Israel.

No, she thought in despair. We didn’t change the future, we just made it true. No, no, NO!

“Nighty-night,” said Valkyrie, and something collided with the back of Bridget’s skull. All she could think of was that she had failed her friends.

And then she could think no more.

Fan-fic Prologue Part 3

Well, here we are again. I have less than 3 minutes to write something quick and tehn im off.

Well, here's quick:

it was the last day of school for term 3 today, which means nxt 2 weeks are holidays wich means that hopefully i will be able to  catch up on a helluva lot of writing, which means that u guys will enjoy this more.


i have collected names for louis to draw, but if you were too late to sign up you can still post ur name (only) in the comment section of this post and i will look for ur bio on Lizzy's Biorama. If u dont know who lizzy is, u should look around. She's everywhere, i swear...


Now, this is the END OF THE PROLOGUE. Next i will be posting Part 1, which the main character is Bridget Whiplash.

BUT! Just because the story is based around her character for this part, YOU CANNOT JUST SKIP IT. To fully understand my masterpiece, u NEED TO READ IT ALLLL!!!! When it's your turn, you can revel in the glory and so on, but until then, READ THE STORY, DAMMIT.


Just a gorram precaution.




Well, that wasnt that fast so yeah. Also, i will not be posting over the next few days,because my internet will be down. Give it until, say, WEDNESDAY 29th of September. Then i will post a new part.




ALSO, I won (or at least i think that's what the letter said) the Annual Spring Poetry Competition, which is actually a big deal. Out of all of South Australia, i think.....


Either that, or im just invited. Fill u all in on details later.




STORY!

*plus* this is not a slice from the end or whatevs. this is no spoiler, just read it, k?

The city was black and dead. The blast had killed so many, and the power surge that followed corrupted thousands more. Survivors stumbled through the wreckage, past the rock statues and flaming bodies. Darkness seeped through the city.

Solomon Wreath was one of those survivors, though barely. He was still affected by the surge, yet for some reason it was taking it’s time with him, rather than ending it quickly.

He tripped time and time again, and then he would scramble to his feet and run. The shadows, the ones that he had once created, were after him. The death in the city did not help either. That, plus the power boost, had made them almost impossible to evade. He knew deep down that he was almost done for. He would tire, or injure himself,  and then it would all be over.

He ran into a building, taking the stairs two at a time. He reached the roof and shut the door behind him. The shadows bashed against it, longing to reach their victim. He backed away, stepping up onto the edge of the roof. He had a perfect view of the destruction that had taken place in the city.

Far off, he could still see the flashes of light as an elemental sorcerer tried and failed to stop himself from burning up. His screams echoed loudly and reached Solomon’s ears. He didn’t care. There was no-way he could have stopped it anyway.

The door was blasted off it’s hinges and the shadows seeped towards him. Wreath turned and faced them, holding out his hand. Using what little hold he had over them, he created a boundary, stopping them in their tracks. The shadows paused, unable to move. Then they stopped faking and darted towards him and real fear was in his eyes. He stepped lightly off of the roof, falling to the streets below. It was a race; would he die painlessly or would the shadows get to him first?

His world spun and he saw grey clouds and burning wreckage, and the shadows speeding towards him.

Yes, he thought. I’m going to die, but at least I will not have to suffer painfully.

He would have made it. Had the shadows not been affected by the surge, he would have touched the ground first and his life would have ended quickly. He forgot this, so it came as a complete surprise when the shadows grabbed him metres from the ground and started peeling the skin from his face. He screamed, but didn’t try to stop them.

What could he have done, anyway?

Israel woke with a start, and was comforted to see that he was no longer in a world full of death and destruction.

His eyes focused and he saw his friends around him, and he tried what he thought was a believable smile. Weakly, he sat up, and Lewis Ryker removed his hand from where it had been gripping Israel’s arm. Israel noticed Lewis’ forehead was slick with sweat. He waited until he until he had caught his breath, then asked “Are you OK?”

Lewis shook his head and banged the doors of the van open, vomiting on the pine needles outside. Everyone took a step back and Mary Hiashi turned away in disgust as he vomited again. “I’m sorry,” he spluttered, wiping his mouth. “It took everything I had to boost you and not the whole world.”

“How was it?” asked Kallista Pendragon.

“A bloody mess! I almost ended the world, girl!” Lewis ranted. But Kallista’s eyes were fixed on Israel.

“Israel?” she questioned in a small voice. Lewis stopped talking.

“It was-” Israel paused, noticing that all eyes were upon him. Not all of them had been able to fit in the van, so some peeked in from the back. “exhilarating,” he finished. “It was like I could have reached into the lives of someone standing on the other side of the earth, and then read their future for the next hundred years.

Nicolette Croga stepped back, shocked. No wonder the Sanctuary was after Lewis.

“Did we get what we wanted?” said Mary.

“Oh yes. There is someone in Japan who knows of cure. Dragona, Jodi, Kallista, Skyril, Mary, Bridget and someone called Necros will go and search there. I just need to gather my thoughts and then I will have the address.”

“There’s a cure? And not just a bullet to the head?” said Lewis.

Israel nodded and he saw Lewis’ eyes widen.

“Wait, did you say someone called Necros?” Skyril frowned.
“Yeah,” answered Israel. “I couldn’t seem to see what he looks like. You know him?”

“Know him?” She laughed. “He’s my cousin, Israel. I’ve known him for years. Remember?”

Everyone shook their heads. “No,” said Bridget, inspecting her long nails. “I for one have never heard of this ‘Necros’.”

“Really?” Skyril looked around at the group. “You know, worked up in Switzerland with Anarchy Rose? That is, before she was kicked out of there…”

All was silent. Then Darkane raised her hand. “Oh, I know her!”

Skyril muttered ‘finally’ and Darkane continued.

“But wait-isn’t she a book?”

“No,” said Jodi, rolling her eyes, “that’s ‘Epiphany with Foes.’ Idiot.”

Darkane lowered her hand and sank low into her seat.

“Anyway,” came Israel’s voice and everyone looked back. “The rest of us-Aquila, Skylara, Lewis, Sarthacus, Bridget, Nicolette and I-will stay here, and hope to find a good place to hide.”

“Alright then,” said Mary. “It’s settled. We should catch a plane as soon as possible. Maybe even this afternoon. I can’t wait to visit Japan again.”

“Yeah, and I’ll call Necros and tell him what’s happening. Too bad Anarchy isn’t in town, they always work well together,” added Skyril.

Around the group, there was a small sense of accomplishment. They finally had a plan. About damn time, too, thought Israel, climbing into the front seat and putting the van into gear.

So far, he hadn’t told anyone about what he had seen just before he woke up. He wasn’t planning to, either.

I mean, just think. How would you cope if you were told the end was coming and no-one could stop it?

As you can see, mention to the character Anarchy Rose and Switzerland, so yeah. It's a cool OC, Lizzy.

I had this really crummy ending to the prologue, something along the lines of "and he put the car into gear and tehy drove off into the beggining of a new story," but man that sucked so i replaced it with a reminder that the end is coming. Yep, totally not cheesy. And original too. Yep....

Skyril and Alexzz! i hope you allow me to make u 2 cousins! it was the best case scenario for an intro too u, Necros.

CYA!