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Thoughts and Samples
Insight on whoever I happen to be at the time.
A sample of my writing...
”—Tel amara,” the large lumox like figure uttered, a phantomesque puff of cigar smoke unfurling past his lips, teeth slightly yellowed, shown in slight contrast against bone white skin and pitch black tattooing along his strong features. ”—What does that mean?” the drunkard to his left was well aware Lobo, the Main Man was not from the States, he just hadn’t gone so far as to reveal he wasn’t from the planet either. Pausing in his puffs like a chimney smoke stack, he would have spoken, only ending the words with an open mouth tip of his bottle of Jack. ”—Means beautiful,” he uttered in a raspy baritone voice, staring fiendishly with a savage smile up towards the woman who was dancing exotically like the Daffen’s at Coloco square on Neptune, Keesi fems known simply what men here called ‘Strippers’. Settling back comfortably in the plush red leather Lounge, thick muscled arms mounted with chains and spikes, dressed along the crest of the seat. Overall Tattoos, grunge, and gritty black hair that smelled of engine grease and gun powder, he could be misread as a Biker, he didn’t mind…helped him blend more naturally than most Alien’s come for sanctuary on the Planet. He didn’t like talking much although he was easily omni-lingual, made easy for a few contraptions in his care, thankfully Bill…as he was called, was more interested in his drinks than the spaceman. The ‘Gentleman’s club’ as it had been so politely called, was a dingy little place, dark and dreary with its only glimmer of warm light emanating from the pale white Christmas lights, and the seedy red glow from some of the ‘private rooms’. Above each Dancer was a column of white, a spotlight set against their gyrating near naked forms. Lobo had wanted to say he had come for the Keesi Fem’s, but he hadn’t, stealing a third puff, the cherry lighting up the deep contours of his face.

He left it there, hanging from the corner of his mouth, just as he saw his target head towards the back room with a naïve little Fem, the pair laughing and giggling as if all was well. Standing up, he trailed as they went inside, towering easily over every single man and woman in the building, 6’6 of solid muscle, thick and frightening, it had been a wonder they’d found a seat suitable for his great size. Above the pulsating music he could hear it affectionate laughter gone to terrified screaming, not a single soul stirred, it was Lobo’s turn. Kicking open the door, splintering it to shrapnel under his spiked boot, the woman was lying on her back arms outward trying her best to fend off the male, whose hands had extended into lengthy fingers, double the size of a normal human’s, like thin sticks, its face splitting in half to reveal razor sharp maws and a lashing tongue. ”—Hey Ugly…let the Dame be, I’d like a dance…” he cooed, reaching outwards and collapsing his large hand over the things skull, slamming it roughly against the wall, with a pained shriek it flailed, already speaking insults through it’s mother tongue, ”—Isa hauta ou ville Lobo, doomeyed Czarnian! Leva mese bea!” one more firm slam, and the bounty would be out, collapsed under Lobo’s watch. Having a glance over at the girl, a blonde whose chest was a perky as her personality, ”—Is it dead?” and Lobo would glance back over at him, Kweedo, and back to the blonde, lifting the bounty right on over his shoulder like a Hunters latest game, ”—Nah, but he’s…it is goin’ far away for a very long time, our secret Babe? I’d love to come back here again under less horrific circumstances…” he uttered, patting Kweedo on the back mockingly, and she would nod, ”—Of course, any time…t-thank you…” a simple nod from his dark haired head, Red eyes glittering softly. Puffing absently on his Cigar, he turned on heel and walked out, head held high, heads turned only to stop and Marvel over the large man, not a thought spared for the man he carried out. Just as he was about to hightail it out on his bike he heard the meter go off, a ring like a high pitched telephone…Justice League… a groan, and he’d fire up his bike, caging the criminal, ”—Fraggin' Bastisch…”





Vampiress Vittoria
Community Member
Vampiress Vittoria
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  • [04/26/13 01:43pm]
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