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Report those naughty robots!

Post your homebrew creativity that you proudly have here. Show off whatever work you may have and not look too out of whack, and maybe (as I did), if you wish, explain the history behind the work in question and so on. I'll go first. Here's the first page of me' book.

Race of the Dragons

Chapter One

A thin fifteen year old boy wandered through the streets of a silent neighborhood in Mississippi, searching for a place to safely sleep, though found nowhere suitably sheltered in the hot, humid night, much to his displeasure, and decided to search outside the neighborhood for a place of rest. He heard a sound, like that of thunder, and looked around, noticing a strange, glowing yellow object, and when he approached it, the object’s randomized brightening hurt his sensitive, photophobic eyes. Although it was hard for him to look at it, he could see that it was an Orb, filled with sparks of lightning, much to his amazement. He slowly moved his right-hand toward the strange Orb, afraid that it might hurt him, though was surprised when he found that he was able to hold the Orb in his hand without injury. The boy examined it closely, and saw the sparks of electricity, which was the most wondrous and awe inspiring thing he had ever seen in his life.
“What is this thing?” He asked himself, and soon afterwards, his question was answered in a shocking manner, for the Orb released a portal, full of static electricity, which took the boy into it, and spat him out into mysterious grassland, now in the middle of a cold, violent storm. At first, he was frightened by the change of scenery, but eventually, it became almost enjoyable, even if he was cold and soaking wet. He even began to explore this strange new world, hoping that there was a small chance of finding someone who would explain this phenomenon to him, and possibly reverse the effects of this absurd teleportation, or teach him to do so. As he explored the drenched grassland, he heard the sound of thunder, but sounded quite different from the thunder he had was accustomed to hearing on Earth.
Soon after the mysterious thunder ceased to be heard, lightning unlike that which he had ever seen before came, much to the boy’s surprise, showing a dazzling display of electricity, which was spiraling inward and outward wildly and erratically. The strange, but beautiful lightning repeated this interesting spiraling pattern until, without warning, the sparks drew themselves to the center of the path, forming a strange portal. The boy jumped backwards in shock, and asked in surprise “Where did that come from?!” Lightning which came from the bizarre, deep violet colored portal struck the ground near him, scorching the grass to a crisp and boiling the soil to the point of melting.
The boy had swiftly dived away in fear of electrocution from the lightning, and after checking himself for any other possible injuries, he noticed that the scorched and boiled land was now surrounded by a small, and painfully bright dome of pure light. When the dome ceased to illuminate its intensely bright light, the boy slowly began to open his eyes, and saw a girl, who kept herself tightly curled up into a ball, fearful of what might be out there. The boy approached the girl, slowly, but surely, and then set his large, thin left hand upon her shoulder, though quickly moved away when she turned to face him, in complete surprise. He looked into her green eyes for a brief moment, though came to his senses afterwards, and then asked her “Hey, my name’s Joseph, what would yours be?”
The girl first stood up, and cleaned the mud off of her short, ragged, cinnamon colored hair and her clothing, then proceeded to introduce herself “I’m Sarah, and, I’d like to ask; where am I?” Joseph looked in every direction at least once, before saying in a solemn fashion “That’s a question I’d like to answer too; I’m just as lost as you are.” Sarah looked up to the dark, gray sky, with electricity now randomly flashing among the clouds, and said “Might as well explore then.” Joseph thought for a moment, and although at first he was cautious of the idea, he decided going alone would be too dangerous, and asked “Will you go with me, Sarah?”
She had stopped walking when she heard Joseph make his request, and then humorously told him “Why not, we’re in the middle of nowhere anyway.”

I'll leave you blokes to guess what happens next. Been working on it since 5th grade, now in 9th grade, so I've had a lot of time to work upon and improve the storyline. Anyways, as I said; the point of the thread's nice and self-explanatory; just a place to show off your work and not get dirty looks about it either.

I'm currently working on a book titled "Various Teenage Dialects for Adults: A guide to help you understand that gibberish you find in your teenager's inbox"

I'm almost done with the section on leet speak. [I think I'll get my text-addict friend to help me write the texting language section.]


Edit: Just to clear up some possible confusion, that was sarcasm.


Oh yeah, Rap, that's some pretty good stuff there! [though you could use some editing].

That would've made a very nice and amusing book. Also, just to clear up some of my own - when I say creativity, I mean everything, not just text related creativity.

Anyways - when you say editing - do you mean readability, wording, or other things?

Or I could just write a program that allows you to scan the papers, then it actually reads it and translates it into "normal speech". Of course it would come with the capability for you to just type it in. It'll also have a color-coding system to show the parents which parts are particularly bad.


Edit: Yeah. Some of your sentences are a little wordy, or need to be split up. Just that kind of thing.

Just move to the point in a plain manner, I don't want to have to find some message hidden behind unneeded sarcasm. There is a time and place for that, and it is not here.

This is the most plain way I can put it: You have a lot of run-on sentences. Very wordy run-on sentences. Let's take your first sentence for instance:

"A thin fifteen year old boy wandered through the streets of a silent neighborhood in Mississippi, searching for a place to safely sleep, though found nowhere suitably sheltered in the hot, humid night, much to his displeasure, and decided to search outside the neighborhood for a place of rest."

Let's see... that's nearly 50 words in that one sentence [49]. Just try to seperate you sentences more. For instance, here's a different way you could've written it:

"A thin fifteen year old boy wandered through the streest of a silent neighborhood in Mississippi. He was searching for a safe, sheltered place to sleep in the arid night. Not finding one, he decided to search for a place outside the city to sleep."

Granted, that's only 4 words less, but it's in three sentences [and it's 3 a.m. , so I'm tired].

P.S. I apologize if that came across as rude, or condescending.

This is probably the worst idea I've ever had in my life, but I'll link to some stuff I've written. I'll warn you right away, except for the chapter from Day Walker, everything is extremely rude, sarcastic, and ripe with swearing. If you'll be offended, skip it. It was all written as a joke, not to mention it's some of the worst writing to grace human eyes. I suggest you read chapter 1 from Day Walker and call it a day as you'll probably drop multiple IQ points from reading any of the other stuff anyway.

I openly welcome comments, suggestions, grammatical/spelling corrections, and other critiques.

A novel, and other less desirable works, by Ricky Cactus:
Click

Alright. That would explain it.



"...there was a man, like a person with a penis." ?! Totally different from what I'd expect to hear from you. Haven't read any of the work for long enough to make a suggestion, but it's all too gloomy and dark for my tastes.

I did these in GIMP, which I am still learning how to use.

This one is my cat, Chief, climbing my leg.
http://i280.photobucket.com/albums/kk168/JuniorDeth/100_0524.jpg

This was growing in my yard.
http://i280.photobucket.com/albums/kk168/JuniorDeth/CactusFlowers.jpg

Mr. Play, though sublymonal says that your sentences can be a little verbose, I think that's a good thing. In fact, I have written paragraphs of just one or two very detailed sentences; I think it's FINE, but whatever you want to do.

Now for the first chapter of the novel I'm working on (The Art of Blood I thought... but that wouldn't fit with the names of the sequels [if I do them] - Written in Blood and Set in Stone):

1
Sleep

I slept.
Travelling the same course I felt myself stir and knew my awakening was at hand.
Still I slept.

That's it. In fact, every chapter from this character's viewpoint so far is less than 5 lines long, and always ends with the sentence "Still I slept"

I'm such a dramatic.

Once i attempted to write a story about how the Dark Brotherhood got created, but it sucked balls.
Totally.

Lately i've tried (again) to write some stories, and could possible show them to you, but my writing sucks, and i cant really be bothered.
And then there's because that my imagination is hibernating

Show us some Raven... pleeeeease?
I'm sure it won't suck that much.

If you're nice to me (that's everyone) I'll show you one of my very Douglas Adams-esque short stories that I had to write for a competition.

(just a little off-topic, but it's bugging me, you may remove the star from your sig after mine name. Yay for friends!)

I love writing personally, I am actually working on a very big story based on a Brotherhood of assassins trying to destroy the foundation of a new-founded empire in a world filled with turmoil. Right now it technically can't be considered 'writing' because I'm mostly making up ideas and writing them in a huge notebook, which is almost full...

I'm hoping to make it part of a series, just have to see how well I write this one.

Alright, you've forced me into this:
The title of the short story we had to write was "The Encounter", and they were all expecting horror stories, as that was the genre we were studying at that time... so I gave 'em this... it includes a little self-referencing, as I had no ideas what to write, save the idea about a chap with no ideas...

An Encounter
By Dogmantra (obviously my real name was here, but... meh)

From its vantage point on a distant star, well more a planet orbiting said star, Eric watched. One of the primitive life-forms interested him particularly. This life-form was an entertainer of other primitive life-forms living on Sol 3. This entertainer was blissfully unaware of Eric's existence. The entertainer of men was unsuccessful. His name happened to be Bob. He also happened to be an author. Eric watched with intent fascination.

He was sitting in his familiar writing chair, trying to think what must happen next. He knew the character must die but how? He read through what he had of that chapter again, trying to think how the character should die. Bob had thought of so many different ways, drowning was the only one that seemed suitable but the chapter took place in a desert. ‘Ok’ Bob, the best-selling author, thought to himself, ‘I can’t write any more here, I’ll look at the next chapter.’ Bob looked at the next chapter; he was stuck for ideas there too. In fact, Bob couldn’t think of anything that could possibly happen. He didn’t know it but this was the result of a complex alignment of the planets with a peanut that he dropped under the sofa.

Bob wished, even prayed for ideas, his publisher had given him a deadline: he only had a month to finish the first draft of the novel he was working on now or he'd have to find another publisher. He couldn't finish in time, no-one he went to would accept his ideas, they had all turned him down in the past: why should they publish him now?

Bob could no longer make any money writing, he thought that he could publish the books himself but he only wrote them, he had no knowledge of marketing them. Bob was unemployed for a long time, wondering what he should do with his life, writing had been his passion, the only thing he was good at.

One day, because it had been raining, he was extremely Unhappy. 'Not an ordinary unhappy,' he thought to himself, 'the kind with a capital letter.' Then, as the rain stopped, Bob had an idea, this period of his life had been comparable to the raining, now it must stop: he must get a job and rebuild his life. 'First task,' He decided, 'is to clean this darned apartment.' so he spent days and days, cleaning the "Unbearable Mess", as he called it, from his home.

One afternoon, as he finished this gargantuan task, requiring Herculean strength; Archimedian intellect and possibly many other attributes ending in -ean, he went down to his local job centre. The man he talked to was a well-spoken college graduate who told him that a career as a failed author would suit him perfectly. 'I thought I was making progress with this whole "Life-Change" thing. Maybe I was better suited to being a failed author after all.' he told himself, although he didn't say it out loud because people would have thought him mad.

Eric heard Bob's wish and was upset: he did not want his favourite earth-being to become as dull and uninteresting as the other earth-beings. However, due to the way that wishes and signals travel, Eric heard Bob's wish far too late: he was unable to reach Sol 3 for at least 2 weeks after he heard the wish. Eric needed to give his entertainer some ideas: he could not rest knowing that his earth-champion was not happy.

During Bob's great purge of the "Unbearable Mess" from his apartment, he failed to look under the sofa and remove the offending peanut that was causing his writers' block, hence his career suggestion as a failed author was becoming more and more appealing. Eric knew this and, because of the fact he had a time travel machine, he had the benefit of hindsight in advance, something which would help everyone live their lives better. Eric decided he must emulate many of the characters in Bob's books and go on a quest for his earth-champion. However, as he neared the blue marble, he realised that he was not fluent in English in the slightest. This did not worry him, though because to worry is an English verb, one of which Eric was not familiar with.

Bob was sulking in his chair. 'I just want someone to come along, tell me what to do and let me keep the profits from my novel.' he thought, in fact, he kept repeating this in his head and, without realising, he started to say this out loud. To an outside observer, Bob must have appeared quite mad. Not to Eric. He thought that Bob was a lord among Terra-dwellers. Eric needed his champion of words to become even more championly. There was only one way to do it.

Eric was watching Countdown, he thought that it would help improve his English. However, since he didn't know any English, the definitions were useless for Eric. Eric Swooped down into the garden of Bob's apartment block and landed. His ship was a typical "Flying Saucer", it was a round ship with a little drop down door that came down with a mist emanating from the opening. Eric stepped out and said the one thing he knew in English:
"Take me to your leader."

Bob was shocked to see a UFO outside. He blinked. He still saw it. He blinked again, still disbelieving the fact that a flying saucer had landed in his apartment block's garden. Bob thought he heard the words "take me to your leader" but he shrugged it off, thinking he must be going mad. 'It's probably from all those cheesy afternoon re-runs of Start Trek I've been watching'.

"Take me to your leader." he heard again. Bob fell into a state of shock, he was sure he'd heard someone say that twice, just after he thought he saw a UFO land in the garden. Bob knew he was going mad, either that or they'd started putting something funny in Sainsbury's Basics teabags. 'Ok,' he thought, 'If I hear that again, I'll go out and see who it is.' Even though copious amounts of tea had been consumed by Bob, he fell asleep almost as soon as he tried. He dreamed about space.

One week later, Eric's flying saucer was still in the apartment block's garden, already weeds were creeping up it. Bob walked out to investigate the UFO again, as he had done every day for the past week, looking at its construction and the seamless beauty of it. He had not heard the words again since that night. "Take me to your leader!" The words echoed around the small courtyard that served as a garden. Bob shook his head. 'Must be because I'm thinking about it,' he told himself. Suddenly, the panel which Bob assumed was one of those doors that drops down accompanied by some dry ice. He was right. Down from the opening descended Eric.

Eric came from a planet where language just so happened to be completely identical to French. Eric looked at his champion. Bob looked back. Finally, Eric broke the silence "Bonjour, je ne parle pas l'anglais, mais je peux parler le français." Bob couldn't speak French, he thought it might be a threat. He ran away and locked himself in his house.

Finally, when Bob realised that “Je peux parler le français” meant “I can speak French”, he got up and walked to the door. Opening it slowly, he peered outside. There was no sign of the creature that he had seen earlier. He breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly, he heard the unmistakable sound of the words: “Take me to your leader” being said repeatedly. 'Oh, that's just great,' Bob thought, 'Something interesting finally happens to me and it has to be an alien. An alien that can only speak French and say “Take me to your leader”. Now I've seen everything.'

“Tu as demandé des ideés, j'ai des ideés pour toi.” Said Eric. Bob had no idea what it meant, he only knew “bonjour”, “au revoir” and “je suis” but he thought it sounded friendly, so he invited the strange being into his appartment. “Tu parle le français, ça va?” It was then that Bob knew that he needed to hire a translator.

Right, you've made me do this too. It's an excerpt from Worlds Collide, one of my fanfictions, and it's my personal favourite action scene I've ever written.


So you know - Storm of Falkreath = Nord scout/light warrior-type, Agam-Na = Argonian scholar and mage, Ciara Erlasia = Breton archer, Arzel = Redguard warrior, Baran gro-Oran = Orc warrior. They've just found the Ring of Namira but are now stuck in a cave surrounded by mercenaries. The other lot are Marina (Altmer mage) Ri'Azba (Khajiit marksman) Dramas Telvanni (Dunmer spellsword) and Raminus Polus, he of Arcane University fame.


Chapter 6 – The River

The door of Leafrot Cavern flew open and a scene of absolute chaos erupted on the shores of the small lake at the cavern’s entrance. An arrow soared out of the open door and collided with one of the horsemen, causing the horse to panic and throw its rider to the ground. At exactly the same moment, Storm, Arzel and Baran all burst out of the cavern. Two mercenaries ran at them, but before either of them could get chance to attack, Arzel thrust his sword into one of them, skilfully aiming his blow so his sword punched through the gap between the plates of the mercenary’s armour. Baran smashed his warhammer down onto the head of the other mercenary, causing it to simply burst like a watermelon.

“Agam-Na! Make for the canoes!” Storm shouted. He began to run towards one of the canoes, Arzel helping him fight off any mercenaries that got in his way.

As he did so, Agam-Na and Ciara ran from the cavern, Ciara constantly unleashing arrows at the mercenaries. Agam-Na ran to catch up with Storm – as before, Storm and Agam-Na would be leading. Baran ran alongside Agam-Na, preventing any mercenaries from attacking their leader. Eventually, Agam-Na reached the shoreline and leapt into the canoe, just as Storm cut the rope tying it to a small post on the shoreline as Agam-Na’s momentum pushed the boat out onto the water.

“See you in Bravil!” Storm shouted back to the other three. “Good luck!”

“Baran, take the other boat!” Ciara called to the Orc. “I’ll cover you!”

Baran made a run for the second canoe. His large physique and heavy armour meant he was not a fast runner, but he had the advantage of being more than able to take on anything that got in his way. He reached the canoe and simply snapped the rope anchoring it to the shoreline.


“Come on, Ciara, let’s get out of here!” Arzel said. He noticed one of the mercenaries mounted on horseback was charging towards them. He leapt out of the way just in time, as Ciara launched an arrow directly into the rider’s face, causing him to fall lifelessly to the ground as the horse stopped abruptly. Arzel seized the moment and leapt on the horse, quickly taming it, then grabbed Ciara with one of his arms and hoisted her onto the saddle behind him, just as a Blackwood Company mercenary swung an axe at her head, missing her by inches.

“Hold them off!” Arzel called back to her. “I’m going to follow the course of the river!”


Baran, meanwhile, was in trouble. Several of the mercenaries had boarded another two canoes, which had been obscured behind a rock so Storm had not seen them from the entrance of the cave. One mercenary in each canoe was carrying a bow, and they began firing at Baran immediately. Baran began to paddle as quickly as he could, and soon reached where the small river left the lake, plunging down steep rapids which Storm had already skilfully navigated. If he could catch up with Storm’s canoe or Arzel’s horse, he would be safe…

Several of the mounted mercenaries had begun pursuing Arzel and Ciara, whilst Ciara tried to hold them off with her bow. One mercenary caught up with them and tried to shove them off the horse, but Ciara stabbed her dagger into the mercenary’s temple, stopping him abruptly. At this point, she noticed the other two horses had the same idea as them – there was a mercenary armed with a bow on the back of each. Agam-Na had also noticed.

“Ciara! Bring down the archers!” he shouted from downriver. Storm skilfully negotiated the canoe down the raging rapids, Baran close behind him following the same route. Agam-Na sat in the back of the canoe, facing backwards, holding on for dear life with one hand and hurling bolts of lightning towards the pursuing horses and canoes with the other.

Baran suddenly felt a sharp impact on the hull of his canoe. He quickly looked around and saw that an arrow had hit the canoe just below the waterline, ripping an enormous hole through the hull! Water began to flood into the canoe as he desperately paddled to the shore of the river and leapt out of the boat. The two canoes behind him were catching up, the archers still unleashing a relentless volley of arrows at him. He felt arrows harmlessly bouncing from his Orcish armour, but it just needed one to hit him in the exposed areas around his temples or the base of his neck…

“Baran!” he heard Arzel shout. “Go over the bank! The river curves round!”

Baran clambered as fast as he could up the bank of the river until it reached a crest, then he slid down the loose shingle on the other side, ducking behind a rock. He would have to time this perfectly…

As one of the mercenary canoes came past, concentrating on the pursuit of Storm’s boat, Baran leapt out from behind the rock, onto the canoe! He swung his warhammer horizontally, and in one fell swoop he killed the mercenary with the oar and knocked the archer overboard. He threw his warhammer down and took up the paddle, battling to right the course of the canoe, as the archer clambered into the other canoe.

On the riverbanks, Ciara was struggling to get a good aim on the archers. The horsemen had learnt a lesson from the fall of their comrade and were keeping their distance, but Agam-Na and Storm were still in danger from the archers on the remaining canoe.

“I need a clearer shot!” Ciara shouted to Arzel. “I need to be on Storm’s boat!”

Arzel eyed a small, low bridge up ahead where the path crossed to the opposite bank of the river.

“Storm!” Arzel called down to Storm. “Swap passengers!”

Storm nodded to show he had heard him, as their canoe and Arzel’s horse approached the bridge. What happened next was so immaculately timed it looked like it had been rehearsed a thousand times. Storm dropped his paddle and lifted Agam-Na up with both arms, and practically hurled him upwards, where Arzel caught him and hoisted him onto the back of his horse, At the exact same moment, Ciara leapt off the horse, and in mid-air released the drawstring of her bow, the arrow hitting one of the mercenary archers square between the eyes, before she landed in the canoe and ducked down just in time to avoid the bridge.

Baran, meanwhile, had been too busy avoiding arrows to watch his course and ran aground. He desperately leapt out of his canoe into the other one, and realised he had left his warhammer in his canoe. Dismayed, he watched the canoe containing his weapon fly past as the canoe he was in hurtled downriver. He was now on a small boat with two mercenaries, and no weapon.

Take out the swordsman, he thought to himself. The mercenary who had been holding the oar had dropped it in favour for a sword, and began swinging it wildly at Baran. Baran used his armoured arms to block the blows, swinging his fist into the man’s face and knocking him unconscious. Baran grabbed the fallen mercenary’s sword and turned round… but it was too late.

“Baran’s in trouble!” Arzel shouted. “Professor, do you know how to ride a horse?”

“Yes!” Agam-Na called back. “But what about the riders behind us?”

“Ciara will take care of them!” With that, Arzel leapt off the horse and landed on the riverbank, and began sprinting towards Baran. Agam-Na slid forward on the saddle and took the reins of the horse. There were still three riders behind him, and arrows were flying from all three horses towards him and Storm’s canoe, whilst Ciara constantly fired her own volley back towards the riders.

Arzel ran as fast as he could to reach Baran in time. But it was too late. He watched in horror as the archer stabbed an arrow into the Orc’s eye, and kept pushing until Baran fell lifelessly to the ground.

“No!” Arzel shouted. “You [&@%!]!”

With every ounce of aggression he could muster, he swung his sword at the archer and sliced the mercenary’s head clean from his body. He dragged the canoe to the shoreline to try and revive Baran but it was too late. Baran gro-Oran had just become the second member of the group to lose their life on the quest to save Nirn.

Arzel dropped his sword and turned round. What he saw made his heart skip a beat. Figures in red robes and hoods. Lots of them, all carrying Daedric weapons, running towards him.

“Get back or we’ll kill you!” one of them shouted to him. Arzel picked up his sword and lunged at the nearest figure, his sword slicing through the man’s robe like a knife through butter. Three of the other figures began running towards him, as two others began to carry Baran’s body back up the riverbank.

Why did they want Baran’s body? Arzel thought to himself as he desperately fought off the four robed figures. Then he realised.

Baran had the Ring of Namira on his finger.

--

Storm swung the canoe hard around to starboard as the group reached the Panther River. The foaming rapids had stopped, and the water was now calm. Agam-Na’s horse galloped as fast as it could be made to do along the shoreline, with two mercenary riders still hot on its tail. Then, as they reached the bridge across the Panther, Agam-Na saw four figures standing on it. He recognised them immediately. Marina, Ri’Azba, Raminus Polus and Dramas Telvanni. Assaulted by a burst of arrows and destructive spells, the two mercenary riders were killed. Agam-Na brought the horse to a stop and leapt off as Storm brought the canoe to shore.

“Where’s Meridor?” Agam-Na asked.

“I’ll tell you later” Marina said. “Did you get the ring? Where are Arzel and Baran?”

“We got the ring” Agam-Na said, out of breath. “Baran has it…”

Agam-Na stopped mid-sentence.

“We have to go and find them! Now!” Storm said. He began to sprint back up the hill, following the course of the river from Leafrot Cave. Agam-Na, Ciara and Ri’Azba ran after him, the other three, not as quick on foot, following it a slower pace.

Storm reached the crest of a hill and saw a scene of chaos down below. There were many figures, wearing red robes and hoods. A glowing portal of some sort, similar to the one Azura had opened. Arzel, fighting off several of the figures. And three more of the robed figures, dragging Baran towards the portal.

“Ciara! Ri’Azba! Bring them down!” Storm ordered. “Everyone at arms!”

Ri’Azba drew his bow and skilfully brought down one of the figures dragging Baran. But as he took aim at the second, they reached the portal and threw him in, leaping into the portal after him.

With the rest of the group helping him, Arzel easily fought off the remaining robed figures and ran to join the group.

“What happened to Baran?” Agam-Na asked. “Is he alright?”

“No” Arzel said bleakly. “He didn’t make it. And he still has the Ring of Namira on his finger. I couldn’t get to him in time”

“Déjà vu” Storm said. “The Mythic Dawn take a relic needed to save Tamriel into the depths of Oblivion once again…”

“You need to rest” Agam-Na said. Arzel threw down his sword and collapsed onto the grass.

“Agam-Na” Marina said, walking over to them. “Crisis meeting”

She walked briskly over to where Raminus was standing, Agam-Na following close behind.

“We think we know who’s behind the Blackwood Company” Marina said. “It’s…”

“Mythic Dawn” Agam-Na said. “We captured one of the mercenaries who said he had seen one of these red-robed men around the Blackwood Company building”

“It would make sense” Raminus said. “Think about it, they’ve been following us at every turn. They found their way to Moonshadow…”

“What?” Agam-Na said in shock. Marina and Raminus remembered that Agam-Na didn’t know of the events in Azura’s realm, and recounted the tale to him, including the death of Meridor.

“The Daedra must be helping them” Agam-Na said. “Telling them exactly what we are doing. How else would they know to come to Leafrot Cave to find the Ring of Namira?”

“The Ring…” Marina said. “We were so close, but now we’ve lost it. Along with one of our finest warriors…”

“We could always go into the portal after them…” Agam-Na suggested.

“Are you proposing that we go into a portal, into an unknown realm of Oblivion, and recover the Ring of Namira?” Raminus said, dumbfounded.

“No” Agam-Na replied. “I’m suggesting we do all that, and gather the essence of whatever Daedra owns the realm we’re travelling to. And I am not sure which Daedra that will be. There’s something confusing me…”

“What is that?”

“Let’s think about who could have opened this portal. It can’t be Molag Bal, because we have the mace. It can’t be Namira, because the ring was in Nirn before the portal was opened. Peryite’s, Malacath’s and Vaermina’s realms are believed to be inaccessible by mortals”

“There is one more possibility…” Marina said.

“What?”

“If a band of mercenaries can reach Moonshadow once, surely they can do it again…”

“Let’s just enter the portal and hope we end up in Moonshadow, then” Agam-Na said.

“Raminus, gather everybody else” Marina said. “This won’t be easy…”

http://i285.photobucket.com/albums/ll73/Lunarsweets/OtherHawking.jpg


http://i285.photobucket.com/albums/ll73/Lunarsweets/HawkingEquipment.jpg

http://img161.imageshack.us/my.php?imag ... fulfg1.png Feel free to raise your eyebrows at my brilliant creation! And by the way that's a tail at the end of its body, not something else.

HA! Spore. That never occurred to me. I don't have any screenshots, but..

http://www.spore.com/view/profile/TheCactusKing

Lovely creations there, Cactus. Will you by any chance create a cactus species, or is that taken already?

There are hundreds (nearly 1000) already.
Just look

Oh. Wow.

Well, be prepared for typo's, im only a 11year old boy from Denmark.
And nope, im not kidding you.
Oh, and please say, if there's something that should be edited cause of typo.
And the (more like fan-fic) story is about Oblivion.

Short Description: It is about a necromancer who infects the whole of Cyrodiil with poisoned muttons.
Those who gets infected, will look like half-animals, half-[Insert their race here]

Grenkul's Revenge

Chapter One, the Plan.

"Wagon incomming, open the gates" yelled a guard.
"Ugh, why do we have to open and close this gate all the goddamn time!?" a worker thought. "It would be better to keep it open all the time, but oh no, what if we get attacked.. Damn you Ocato."
The wagon slowly approached. It smelled badly, very badly.

"Hey, what do you have in that wagon? It smells worse than a ogre's breath" "I have fresh new mutton for the butcher" a cranky old voice said "Mmm" the guard said. "I cant wait to have a bite of that. You may pass"
"Thank you" the old man murmured.

Long away from there, a Breton sat in a cave, writing a letter.
A crystal ball nearby him started to glow.
"I have delivered the mutton to the butcher now master, whats next?"
"You're free for now, come back to the cave" the Breton replied.
And soon enough, the whole Imperial City will be infected, and i will get my revenge for what they did to me."

Chapter Two, the Infection

"Fresh new mutton, get some fresh new mutton here" the butcher yelled.
A woman came "I would like some, what do you take for one piece?"
"10 septims for a little, 25 for a medium and 30 for a big."
"I will take two big pieces" she said and handed him 60 septims.
"Thank you, and here you go."
The butcher couldnt resist the urge to taste a little hunch of the mutton.
He cut a little slice out, and ate it.
"Mmmm" he thought. "This tastes really good"

In the next few days, the butcher sold all his mutton to all the citizen of the Imperial City.

Some days later, the Black Horse Courier came with shocking news.
-People becoming Beasts!!!-
People report seeing Half-Beast half-human folks walking around the Imperial City! Could this be a Evil Mage? Or perhaps a new plague? Read more at page 5!

The Breton chuckled while looking at the news.
Just as he had planned.

Chapter Three, The Next Step

The Breton sat and watched the Imperial City in his Crystal Ball, when it started knocking on the cave door.

"Grenkul, we know you're in there. It's the Guard. Come outside now, or we will knock the door down."
"Blasted" he thought. "How did they find me here?!"Lyen? You hear me?" he said.
A old cranky voice said "Yes master? What do you need of me?"
"Send the rest of the muttons to the rest of Cyrodiil. NOW!"
"Yes master" he said.
He head a loud *Crack*, but he knew what it was.
The guards had knocked the door down.

"You're under arrest for infecting the Imperial City. Come with me."
"I guess i have no choice then."
"No, you dont."

-The following day, Imperial Palace-
"Grenkul Euragel, you are sentenced to death for infecting the Imperial City.
Do you have any last words?"
"They say that revenge is bittersweet. But i find it to my liking."
"May Stendarr have mercy on your soul" the Priest ended.
The Nord standing beside him, lifted his axe, and.

Whoah, for an 11 year old, that story was pretty good, 'specially since English isn't your first language. Though I do have one gripe, Mutton was food for peasants in the Dark ages (which I realise OB is not, but it's based on it) so I doubt someone earning as much as a guard would want to eat it... Ah well, as long as the Big Bad Evil Guy isn't spreading this plague just to be evil, I'm OK with that.

Since this is creative, I think I feel a pome (that's poem to anyone other than myself and my old English teacher) coming on...

"The time has come,"
The Walrus said, "to talk of many things,
Of shoes and ships and sealing wax
Of cabbages and Kings,
And why the sea is boiling hot
And whether Pigs have Wings"
"So you say," Dogmantra asked
"That of all the things
That could be done already,
Someone's done pigs with Wings?"

"But wait a bit!"
The Oysters cried, "Before we have our chat,
For some of us are out of breath
And all of us are fat!"
"You try to tell me that someone
Has already done that?"

"This strange poem writing business
Has become more tough,
Since that Fellow Lewis Carrol
Wrote all his crazy stuff"

"And hast thou slain the Jabbawock?"
"Would you like some tea?"
I like quoting Shakespeare too,
"It's all Greek to me"

I am aware that the point
Of this poem's lost
Summat about Plagiarism I think
O maybe about rhyme...
Ah well **** it all,
Let's do it one more time.

I wonder about your mental state sometimes Cactus, then i get frightened.

I noticed a few places where your wording was a little weird (not in a mean way. I don't intend for any of this to be demeaning as your english is very good).


"It would be better to..." makes a little more sense when used in that sentence.


"worse"


"Follow me"


"sentenced"

Those are just a few I noticed. There were a few smaller ones, but I didn't want to list all the places with weird wording. I know that sometimes I probably word things weird, so there was no need to correct all of them. As I said before, I don't mean for this to be demeaning as your english is very good.