|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Fri Jul 20, 2007 11:39 am
ThEndOfHeartache927 Mikhail Darvich lay in a particularly grassy valley. The area around him was empty; he was alone, as he had been for so much of his life. Slowly, with his strong arms behind his head, Mikhail closed his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose for four seconds, holding it for four seconds, then exhaling and holding for four additional seconds each. He repeated this process until he found himself in a light trance state. Visions of war and bloodshed ran across his mind like one of those moving pictures the humans were so drawn into. One by one, he attempted to see each image fade into nothingness, but, as always, to no avail. Each image kept reappearing moments later. Sighing heavily, Mikhail brought himself out of his trance, opening his eyes to the bright sun. It didn't hurt when he opened his eyes onto such brightness as it used to. In fact, everything seemed to always be in perfect focus, with excessive light, or none at all. Mikhail pushed himself up into a sitting position, then standing. There is work to be done, he thought. Food to be harvested....The day had been a tiring one. Mikhail lay down on his bed as the soft fabric of cotton sheets caressed his body, lulling him into the deep land of sleep. For once, nightmares didn't plague him. Instead, sweet dreams of family and love played through his mind, making him wish more and more to be able to travel to America, to assimilate into humanity, and possibly, just possibly find his parents. And maybe someone to love....
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jul 24, 2007 8:14 pm
Mira had camped out on the couch for a nap when a loud, angry knocking sounded from her front door. Groggily, she pushed herself onto her feet before approaching the door and opening it rather irritatedly...
"What do---"
"Is Mr. Cirta in?"
"He's ill."
"Ill?...S-Shame." The man pushed himself past Mira and began to walk through the house, as if searching for something. "Cirta! Cirta Flighter!"
Mira was aghast, to say the least. "What gives you the right to barge in here and---"
The snivelly, short man simply whipped out a piece of paper and held it in front of her nose. "This, if you don't mind. As we speak, many other people are being talked to about the same subject, so don't think you're our only stop. Now, lead me to Mr. Cirta, please." the man sneered, obviously disliking the fact that he had to talk to so many people in such a short amount of time.
Mira's eyebrows wrinkled in distaste, but she decided it would be best to entertain the man's wishes for the time being.
-=-=-=-=-
Ian swam around for about an hour before getting out to rest a bit. He was sitting in the sand examining bits of shell and rock when the stamp-tramping of many feet caught his attention. He looked up to see some of the strangest looking people he had ever met. They were all tall and thick and wore bright-red wetsuits... or at least, that's what he thought they were. They seemed a little too... lax in the skin-tight department to be true wetsuits. One of them glared down at him, grunting annoyedly. Ian quickly averted his gaze, knowing enough about the school-time bully demeanor to recognize one when he saw one. Creepy... he thought, before standing up to get back in the water. Hope I never have to see them again...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
School Of Dedicated RPers Captain
|
Posted: Fri Jul 27, 2007 7:13 pm
This is my official post saying that you are, indeed, an advanced RP. mrgreen Continue.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jul 29, 2007 8:19 pm
((Thanks! biggrin Now if people would post...))
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jul 30, 2007 3:03 pm
The pool of water was in the middle of small range of hills. It was beautiful and when the sun hit the pool it sparkled like a diamond. It was quiet, private, the perfect place to escape the hardship of life. A dragonfly-like creature landed on the Surface of said pool but flew off in alarm when a girl broke through the surface. Water rolled down her face as she blinked sleepily at the sudden sunlight. smiling sweetly she dove under once more before coming up right near the bank. Pulling herself up onto land she yawned and walked to where a worn blanket was stretched across the ground.
Grabbing a bag that lay on the blanket Kiandra Richter reached inside and pulled out a yellow capsule. Cracking it open a large coffin like box standing on end appeared. Sighing, Kiandra entered the box and pressed an on button. the box, which was really a portable room, whirled to life. Less than 10 minutes later She stepped out. When she had entered the box she had been wearing nothing since no one had been nearby. Now she was encased in a yellow sundress with small yellow slippers. Her dark hair was pulled into an elaborate ponytail.
Kiandra silently gathered her things wishing she could stay here forever. But she need to get home. According to her watch her parents would be home in less than an hour and if she wasnt in her room practicing her Fiddlebagert her mother would throw a fit. Stifling a yawn she placed the bag on her back and began the short trek back to her home.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Aug 01, 2007 8:55 pm
Mira led the hunched-over man into Cirta's room. He turned and looked down his snubby nose at her. "You think you belong here, shockling, listening to private affairs? Go elsewhere!" he snapped, waving his papers at her. Mira frowned. She was liking this man less and less every minute. How did he know she was an electrokinetic? She had half a mind to static shock him right where he stood.
"Harlatz," another voice barked, "You will not talk to my daughter like that again."
Cirta was propped up on his pillows, wide awake now. "Mira is as important to me as my own wings, and I will not have her treated that way."
"Well then, they're all pretty useless attachments now, aren't they?" Harlatz growled a reply, seeing Cirta's bandaged wing. "Quite convenient you break one of those now that your job has taken one of the most important turns yet."
Cirta acted as if he hadn't heard. "Mirly, could you fetch me some tea? The special stuff your mom used to make." he said, his voice softer as if the loudness he had used previous had sapped his energy. Mira nodded solemnly and left, shutting the door behind her. Cirta grumbled and stared Harlatz down. "I had no intention of leaving my duties behind, believe me."
"Well, who will stand up for our country now? Someone has to fill the spot!"
"I can't help you, Harlatz. Find someone else, another Flighter..."
"You know I can't do that, Cirta. Every other Flighter is scheduled to do the jobs they can do best. Yours, until yesterday, happened to be long-distance flying and recon work! We need everyone!"
"Well, what do you suggest?"
Harlatz' mouth curled into a smile, something Cirta knew should just not happen. "I believe your little... Mirly... could be of assistance..."
If Cirta wasn't sitting upright before, he was now. His otherwise rugged, tanned face drained of color at this new prospect. "No! Not Mira. Don't send my little girl down there---"
"You chose this, Flighter, not me!" Harlatz held up his hands as if to deflect the blame. "Your Mira is just going to have to pick up where dear old father couldn't!"
Cirta growled, gritting his teeth. "I don't care what you say. Mira is not going. Not as a Flighter, not as anything. Now get out of my house. I never want to see your snivelly little face again!"
"You don't have a cho---"
"GET OUT!" Cirta pulled his large frame onto his feet, ready to chase Harlatz out with his good wing if needed to. Harlatz, quite the coward, needed no further convincing. He practically sprinted from the room, clutching the oodles of papers close to him as he departed from their house. Cirta groaned and turned, grumbling irritatedly, when his dusty-brown eyes settled on his daughter, pressed against the wall beside his doorframe, a clattering teacup in her hands. Cirta frowned.
"You heard most of it, then?" he grumbled quietly. Mira nodded, causing her father to sigh.
"I suppose we have some things to talk about."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 04, 2007 5:16 pm
"This is Ruby Lead. Everybody okay, got their bearings and all?" Ruby 2's radio crackled. The trainee within was finally out flying the F-22 Raptor, actually flying the combat aircraft for the first time. Of course he was excited. His instructor, Major Johnson, was taking them through the basics of combat maneuvering they had covered before, but now in the real thing. After checking they had all handled the high yoyo correctly, he throttled up a little. 2's radio crackled again. "Alright. We're gonna climb to... arbitrarily, I'll say 16,500 feet and we'll try stall maneuvers. The plane will correct itself if anything goes wrong, so don't worry; you've got 16,000 feet to fall." With this somehow unreassuring statement, Ruby Lead lit up his afterburners and screamed up at eighty degrees.
"Now," 2's radio continued, "If you follow me, you'll see that thanks to the engines in this beauty, we could keep climbing forever if you wanted to. But that's not what we want to do right now, is it? No. So instead, I'll cut off my engine. Aaaaand, to speed things up, hit the air brakes." He performed the maneuver, the other two trainees watching closely while another more experienced pilot held the back of the formation together. "Now, once you do this yourself, you'll feel a shudder right as you're about to stall. Speak of the devil," Johnson ended, as his aircraft did exactly what he had described, shuddering, stopping, and beginning to drop.
"So. I'm falling, right? If I want, I can wait for the plane to fix itself, but instead I'll rudder hard left." The plane yawed to the left, slowly fixing itself. "Now I'm back in control, and what in the name of all that is good and holy can that be?!" 2 started, as the exclamation was completely uncalled for. There was nothing in the sky, not that he could see, and everybody had told him about how he had eagle eyes.
"Sir, I don't see anything-" 2 began, when his words became a disturbing reality. Ruby Lead had simply disappeared from the sky. 2 rolled over, checking he hadn't missed his flight leader underneath his wing, but he wasn't there. 4, the more experienced pilot, dropped out of the formation, engines roaring. 2 looked behind and to the right; 3 looked right back at him. He didn't need to be able to see his wingman's face to understand that he, too was confused.
Meanwhile, Paul looked beneath him, and his life flashed before his eyes. Dead before him was what appeared to be a farmhouse. He had stalled, and somehow land had appeared beneath him. It didn't help that now his altimeter read about three hundred feet and the computer was verbally informing him, "Altitude, danger," which sounded an awful lot like, "You're gonna die in three seconds" to him. He pushed the throttle all the way forward, hoping to be able to pull out - the nose was diving towards the field - the plane was hovering.
Well, that's odd.
He stared at the ground. The ground, if it could've, would've stared right back. His eyebrows knitted into the most perplexed expression that man had experienced since Newton attempted to figure out gravity. This was a little ironic, as Major Johnson was attempting to figure out why the heck gravity had stopped working. Apparently Newton's second law was a lie too, since his plane was most definately not going anywhere. He cut the throttle out, and lowered the gear, figuring that as long as he was floating there was a chance that he would be lowered to the ground to go with it. Whoever did it apparently didn't calculate for the weight of the plane, however, because the Raptor's wheels sank into the mud. Paul could feel the squelching, and he shuddered slightly.
That's all fine and good. I guess I get out now and figure out what happened. He grabbed the survival pack strapped to the bottom of his seat, pulled it free, pushed open the canopy, threw it to the ground, then slid the eight or nine feet with it, bending hard at the knees on his landing. Drawing the Beretta, he whirled around, wondering if anybody had failed to notice the roar of his engines mere feet above the house...
((That's supposed to be Mira's house. 3nodding ))
((Oh, and how's that for literacy?))
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 04, 2007 5:45 pm
((Brilliant! Thank you. Oh, by the way, Mira's house, and pretty much all other houses, are underground. Above ground is used for crops and such. Not many buildings would be up there, but I suppose one or two for storage could pass as a farmhouse.))
A few minutes after the ordeal, Cirta was back on his mat and Mira was kneeling beside him. His saucer was placed neatly on his stomach, teacup in hand. "I suppose before I begin, you should know I'm not going to let you do anything they would rather have me do. My job is dangerous and they have no place putting you in that position. It's against everything the Volcan council stands for."
Mira nodded in understanding, but she was still very afraid. She knew how hard a job being a Flighter was. People were killed regularly for protecting Bermudia, due to mishaps or fights or what have you. And the council was powerful, Harlatz included. If one of them wanted her as a Flighter, Cirta would not have much say in it.
Cirta opened his mouth to explain more, but a loud blaring noise shocked both of them into silence. It was a familiar noise, the Flighter alert, but this one was louder than either of them had ever heard before. The alert was a simple instruction: 'Something's coming in, prepare to counter', but the volume of the alert was the key. It signaled how close the something was. And that was a very, very loud something. The alarm had only been going for a few seconds before a very obvious 'thunk' above them, raining dirt down through the cracks in the construction onto their little discussion. Cirta quickly covered his tea with his hand to keep any foreign objects from plopping into it, swearing a low oath.
"Of all the blasted times..."
"What was that?" Mira gulped.
"I don't know. It was big. Most likely a plane of some sort." Cirta growled.
Mira's eyes widened. A plane! This close? She had never seen a plane up close, the only ones she had found had been intercepted by Flighters before anything got close. Her heart jumped as a sudden realization entered her mind.
"A plane means there's someone flying it! A human, Dad!"
Cirta grunted. "I know. I've never been too proud of what they do to humans, though..."
Mira gulped. Their plane was usually confiscated and salvaged for parts... but the human was usually immediately outcasted, and mind-wiped if possible. She stood and moved towards the door. She wanted to get a good look at them before they were both broken to pieces.
"Mira!" Cirta called after her, wanting to deter her but realizing it would be futile to get in the way of her and her motives. "Don't let yourself be seen! And don't shock anything!"
Mira sighed. "Of course!" she called back, lacing up her boots and running outside. People everywhere were out and talking about how the alert 'hasn't been this loud since such and such an age' and 'what were they thinking letting it get this close' and other idle chatter like that. It seemed Mira was the only one interested in knowing what happened. She sprinted down to the end of the lane, where the tunnel curved up to a hatch door. It was relatively large and made of metal, but easily opened and quite light. She twisted the hatch and pushed it open as she did daily to get to work...
And cringed as she was met with the loud clanking noise of metal on metal. She looked up to see the leg of the great plane beast. The door had collided with the metal hubcap of one of its tires. She groaned, angered at her own stupidity, before lowering the hatch slightly and looking around. The hatch door was up on a hill, covered in earth to hide it, save a metal circle which was used to mark where the door was. The right angle gave her better observation of the world around, without discovery by anything that may be up there. So far, she couldn't see anything except the plane, which was quite submerged in the muddy ground of the freshly-watered strawberry fields. She hoped that it wasn't in deep enough to ruin someone's ceiling.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 04, 2007 6:15 pm
((Oh. Good to know.))
Paul lowered the Beretta. Deserted. Those buildings weren't houses of any description. Just field... after field... after field...
He whirled around as a clank of metal on metal attracted his attention. Something had hit the landing gear, namely the front wheel. He ducked under the body of the craft, saw a partially open hatch, kicked it with his foot, and brought his Beretta to bear. Common soldier paranoia. What he didn't expect to see was a tunnel with a teenage girl slightly crouched within. There was no tremble in his hand, the safety of the handgun was off, and the sights were dead on the girl's forehead. He hoped he wouldn't have to shoot, as so far he hadn't actually killed anyone in ground combat, and he really didn't want to have to see their face before he killed them...
"Who are you, where am I, and how do I get home? Answer! NOW!" he barked quickly, his voice unusually gruff.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 04, 2007 6:43 pm
Mira only saw two black boots before the entire world was revealed and her hiding place compromised. Her bright-blue eyes widened in surprise when she came face to face with a metal contraption she had only seen on the human screens they had in the harvesters' break-house: a gun. Something that could do a lot of harm if you had no ability to counter it. She froze in surprise and most certain fear. You should have expected this, stupid, she thought as her heartbeat jumped up a few notches. She then realized the man was addressing her, ordering information out of her. She was surprised to hear words in a language she recognized. The Bermudian schools had taught them various languages, and she was glad to hear the one she did the best in: English. She had half a mind to send a shock through the man's body, but decided that betraying more of her father's orders was not something she wanted to do right now. It would be easier to deal with this if he didn't seem so intent on ending her life right there.
Finally, her voice returned to her. "M-Mira!" she squeaked, deciding her own life was above loyalty to her country after all, "B-Bermudia, and you can't! N-Not alive, usually, sometimes." she spluttered, fear making her slightly incoherent as she shrunk against the tunnel wall. It was unnoticeable to anyone but her, but small jolts of electricity were shooting out of her hands into the earthen hand-holds she was grasping. "Y-You'd better put that away before the psychics realize you're t-threatening me..." she said, closing her eyes to try and regain some composure over the situation.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 04, 2007 10:16 pm
((thanx for the info on the homes :3))
Oh My Volcun Kiandra watched in awe as the what appeared to be a human plane, a human plane!, crash into the ground over several Bermudian homes. How on bermudia did this plane get here? Glancing nervously in the direction of her home Kiandra had two choices, Go home and pretend she had never seen anything or give in to temptation and go see the plane. Just as she decided that she was probably dreaming the whole thing a man excited the aircraft.
Kiandra was in heaven. All her life she had wanted to see a real human and there it was. Smiling dreamily she watched him wave a....gun..yes thats what that was called...around. Kiandra decided to move closer. Swiftly she ran to a nearby tree and peeked around it. Perfect. Then Kiandra noticed a slight movement near the man. It was a Bermudian Girl her age. Looking closer Kiandra could see that it was a girl named Mira who happened to work in the same field as her. Mira was croutched in a tunnel, presumedly leading to her home, watchig the man with the same morbid facination that Kiandra had displayed on her face.
Frowning Kiandra saw that the man had also noticed Mira and was now yelling and waving the gun in her face. Fear tightened her chest. Would he actually kill her? As a bermudian it was Kiandra responsibility to ensure the safty of others. She let out a tiny groan as she grabbed a pouch of water that she kept tied around her waist. Creeping out from behind the tree Kiandra opened the pouch and drew the water out with a swift hand movement. It was now or never..
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Aug 05, 2007 7:22 am
"Bermudia?" Paul lowered the gun slightly, but his grip on it didn't lax, not in the least. "If I'm in danger..." This was a conundrum he hadn't been faced with before. He hadn't ever ended up on some invisible mythological land. He hadn't been trained to deal with it, either. And it wasn't helpful that the girl's palms appeared to be arcing into the ground. "Alright. IF there is such a place, and I myself am not dreaming, then there is probably a government. If there is a government, they have a guard of some sort. If they have a guard of some sort, especially if they have psychics in their force, they'll already be aware that I'm a threat. If they think I'm a threat, my life is indubitably in danger."
"Let me down there," he ordered, his left hand slipping from the bottom of the pistol's handle, his one-handed grasp now looser. "But do keep your distance." He edged towards the hatch, waiting for the girl to move so he could leap in. Then, he remembered something, and asked, "What's with...?" vaguely gesturing towards the girl's hands.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Aug 05, 2007 9:12 am
((can you remove me from this it's too literate for me thank you))
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
