Rhadiel's/Darg's Story Circle

[Rhadiel]

Hmmmm pretty damn good my friend, pretty damn good, cant wait to see part 2.
+ rep for that bud.

[Darg]

Er... part 2? I was only considering making one of them, but let's see what I have up my sleeve...

It had been so long since death had entered his life, ever since his Aunt Nora died last spring. He had never truly known her and her death did not hit him as hard as if he had been closer to her. It was still sad, no matter who it was, but it was something that almost scared him. Like his father had also said long ago, something that had stuck in his mind: death isn't picky. At the time, he had no idea how much it truly meant, and after everything, it really was true. It could be anyone in his life suddenly, and in the blink of an eye, they could easily be gone. As he sat next to the window in the train to Billington, he glanced over at his fiance', who winked and grinned back at him. He grinned too, though inside he was anything but happy. Looking at her now, he knew that just like that she could be out of his life. Forever. He scooted closer in the leather seat, putting his hand in hers as he stroked her fine, auburn hair. It was going to be a long ride, not just in terms of the train. Life as he knew it had always been a ride and with any luck, the rest of the ride would be a good, long one. Hopefully, that was.

[Rhadiel]

hmmm thats great too ^^ i think that was actually better than MY shorts......im not good with shorts....full lengths storys i like more....but that was good......rep

[Darg]

Originally Posted by Rhadiel

hmmm thats great too ^^ i think that was actually better than MY shorts......im not good with shorts....full lengths storys i like more....but that was good......rep

Hey, sometimes neither am I. I'm sorry though, because I don't mean to dominate this thread. Seeing as it's a "story circle", I'd say it's your turn to concoct a tale... How about one about a traveler? Just to provoke a little adventure in peoples' writings. It's never really a bad thing.

[Rhadiel]

The Hero and the Traveler
An Albion Tale

Many, many years ago, when dragons, and griffins and other mythical beings roamed the skies and earth, there was a place called Albion. Albion was untouched by modern day technology. The natives there, still relied on swords, and bows, and catapults...and some say....magic.......In the north-eastern part of Albion, was the renowned Guild of Heroes. Here, guild 'apprentices' would train for many years since childhood, to become heroes one day. A famous hero, Frostscythe was just about to go on a quest to help a town called, Knothole Glade.

With him, was his best friend and companion, also a traveler, Drakan. Drakan has helped Frost on many quest, helping him barter to get supplies, healing him ect. But, Frost is always the one to get the glory, even though it was really Drakan who was responsible for his victories, for without him, Frost could have died numerous times.
On this current quest, they need to defend the town from numerous Balverine attacks. They started off.....Frost went up ahead to scope out, they were in Witchwood currently, a dangerous place. Drakan, dropped a bottle of health potion on the ground, and went to pick it up.

He heard a noise, suddenly a large hairy animal launched at Drakan, he drew his knife, and quickly stabbed it in the head, dead center. On there previous travels, Frost had taught him how to use a dagger quite well. It was a balverine. "Bloody balverines" he said. He kept on walking, they reached Knothole Glade, and they had only suffered 3 balverine attacks on the way. Were they killed them all..........
As they approached, the villages chief walked up to them. "Hello there Hero, your just in time. One of our scouts found the den the balverines have been coming from.

He told them where is was, and they went off again, it took them several hours to find the den. But, in the end, they made it. They both stared into the den, Drakan walked in first......They heard growling.....Frost looked over into a corner, there, he saw a LARGE ...white...balverine....i t lunged forward, and hit Frost hard to the ground. He was knocked out...."Frost! Dammit!" Drakan yelled. He ran over to Frost, and he dragged his unconscious body to the wall. He stood his ground....The balverine got closer, with every step....Drakan, remembered something, Frost had taught him, balverines hate silver.

He dug deep into his pockets, he found it, a silver augmentation . He quickly attached it to his dagger, and threw the blade at the balverine, it dug deep into its chest. The balverine dropped to the ground, and started to wince....it was dead....Frost suddenly awoke, and saw Drakan, standing there above the balverine. Then, he saw the dagger deep in its chest. He smiled " For a trader.....damn good work." They limped back to Knothole Glade, and there.....Frost told everyone of how Drakan had killed the balverine,,,,not him.

From then on.....Drakan had become a famous 'fighting trader' and known as a hero. For a trader....damn good work.......

[andythegill]

i know do one about the almighty loaf of MURDEROUS bread

or dante and vergil of dmc3

[Darg]

Originally Posted by andythegill

i know do one about the almighty loaf of MURDEROUS bread

or dante and vergil of dmc3

I'll take the first one, most likely one that describes my er... particular state of mind. By the way, thanks Rhadiel for having the thread name changed. I hope I can contribute more now that I'm back to stay... hopefully. Here goes nothing...

The Night of the Murderous LOAF

It was five o'clock when Rolf Reno finally closed up his shop, a dingy little cornerstore on the east end of New Whipshire. He was worn out from the long, hard day of sitting behind the counter waiting for the many opportunities to go postal waiting on him to ring them up. Without any outside assistance, managing the store on his own, he wondered how long he could hold up. He was old, tired of the same old stupid thing day after day. As he walked up to his car at the edge of the curb, he noticed with dismay that the side had been keyed up while he was away. "Dammit!" he shouted, frightening a nearby group of tourists who were walking nearby. Living in the city was hard, and harder yet was trying not to lose his temper in the face of his worsening life.

On the way home, he stopped by the minimart on Checard Street, picking up a carton of eggs and a gallon of milk before going to check out. The clerk checked his credit card and had the groceries bagged up before giving him a strange look over the counter of the checking area. It was then that Rolf realized that there were no other patrons besides him in the emptied grocery store. The clerk leaned over the counter, speaking to him in a low tone, "Hey buddy. You want a good deal?" Rolf scratched his head and replied, "A good deal? What are you talking about?" The clerk pulled a crumpled paper bag from under the checking counter, plopping it on the counter in front of him.

"You see this?" he said, "This here is a good deal. You've never had anything like this in your entire life. Believe me." Rolf was getting impatient, looking at his watch and getting more frustrated as the seconds ticked by. He was not entirely patient with people. "Fine, just give it to me. Here's five bucks, kid. Go buy something." he said, trying unsuccessfully to hide the sleaziness in his voice as he marched out of the store carrying the crumpled sack. As soon as he entered his worn, old car, he peered into the bag. There, he found a single large loaf of whole wheat bread, soggy and showing signs of mold on its side. "Just my luck." he muttered as he drove off to his house on McArthur Avenue.

When he got home, he threw the tattered sack on the coffee table unceremoniously, hanging his coat up on the hook of his old hanger. That night as he was making dinner, just a simple meal of noodles and a bottle of water, the doorbell rang four times quickly, the usual annoying sign that his irritating neighbor Willy had arrived. He shouted for him to come in from the kitchen, keeping his back turned. He was in no mood to talk to anyone, especially Willy Garner. "Come in. There's some food on the coffee table if you want it." he yelled, smiling to himself at the thought of having the fool get sick from the disgusting mold on the mysterious bread.

"Wow, Rolf. This here's quite a mess? Where'd you get it from? It looks like-" Then, without warning the sounds of muffled screams floated into the kitchen, Rolf dropping everything and sprinting into the living room, only to find a bloody mess strewn across the carpet and splattered against the front door. The paper sack was torn open with the loaf of bread sitting alone on the floor amidst the carnage. Rolf approached it cautiously, wondering to himself whether or not he was crazy, even after the therapist claimed it was true five times... maybe six. He couldn't recall. The loaf had killed Willy? But... how? he thought as he desperately tried to piece together the bits of this bizarre puzzle. Suddenly, the loaf turned towards him as if alive. Because it was. "Holy crap." he mouthed, his eyes fixed on the killer bread. But it wasn't that that he was afraid of. He really was that crazy after all...

[Rhadiel]

hmmmm im surprised i didnt notice this till today.....great work Darg.....

now...we need more suggestions.....this thread is dying....and ur request is the blood ur donating to it

[Darg]

Oh. My. Goose. I've been away too long! I've had my name on a thread and haven't been back for like several months!! Yegads!! This thread may get closed soon either way, but let it be known that I still do requests... if anyone's interested. Rhadiel maybe too. No one knows.

Sorry for my absence here on the forums. Bad Darg, very bad Darg. I'm a suckish person, I know.