N3v3rM0r3
Ezekiel
Pizza Box
RPM
Hos
rush99999
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Syrenrei
Zeus23Never go to a doctor again is my advice, it really is the only way to be sure. Stay out of emergency rooms too, dens of inequity the lot of them.
Penny Member
STATUS: Ethical issues aside, AI prose is just really bad. 20 days ago
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Recent Statuses
20 days ago
Current
Ethical issues aside, AI prose is just really bad.
3
likes
28 days ago
She wanted to read, she wanted to write, but the main thing she wanted was something to fight
4
likes
1 yr ago
Make it clear that you don't need him to be reading Dante tomorrow. Also suggest it would be fun if you had a private language that you could use to mock English speakers in secret.
5
likes
2 yrs ago
Luckily history suggests an infinite ability for people to be shit heads ;)
1
like
3 yrs ago
Achmed the Snake
1
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Bio
Early 30's. I know just enough about everything to be dangerous.
Most Recent Posts
"Touch nothing," Amira commanded as she moved to each of the three entrances to the room. The way they had come had been cleared by their passage and the other two archways, each guarded by the statues of fantastical beasts were choked with cobwebs woven by small silvery spiders. Proof enough that they had lain undisturbed since before the time of the prophet.
"There are powerful curses on this place," she mused, more to herself than to her companions.
"Who... who are you?" Ma'kum blurted, his voice rising to end on a squeak of terror. Amira turned to him from the last of the doorways, her eyes glinting in the flickering torch light.
"We are travelers," she said simply and then seeing the dissatisfaction in the thief eyes elaborated, "This is Rhaak and I... some call me Amira, although I do not expect you will have need of my name."
"Yes... yes mistress," the thief stammered.
Amira awoke from her trance, she never really slept as such, to the feeling of something monstrous moving beyond the sight of men. She didn't need Rhaak's shouted 'Master!' to bring her to her feet. In the center of the room stood Ma'Kum, a look of abject terror on his face and the papyrus in his trembling fingers. A grinding boom and a great cloud of dust gouted from the entrance passageway like a tidal wave, completely blacking out the torch.
The dust surged for a moment as Amira raised her palm and then rushed together to form a perfect sphere a foot wide suspended in the air.
"Fool!" she snapped at the thief her voice unusually animated.
"We are sealed in now," she declared as rubble from the collapsing tunnel tricked into the chamber. In the distance there was a clank of metal against metal that began low and rhythmic. Sealed in, but perhaps not alone.
@POOHEAD189
"There are powerful curses on this place," she mused, more to herself than to her companions.
"Who... who are you?" Ma'kum blurted, his voice rising to end on a squeak of terror. Amira turned to him from the last of the doorways, her eyes glinting in the flickering torch light.
"We are travelers," she said simply and then seeing the dissatisfaction in the thief eyes elaborated, "This is Rhaak and I... some call me Amira, although I do not expect you will have need of my name."
"Yes... yes mistress," the thief stammered.
Amira awoke from her trance, she never really slept as such, to the feeling of something monstrous moving beyond the sight of men. She didn't need Rhaak's shouted 'Master!' to bring her to her feet. In the center of the room stood Ma'Kum, a look of abject terror on his face and the papyrus in his trembling fingers. A grinding boom and a great cloud of dust gouted from the entrance passageway like a tidal wave, completely blacking out the torch.
The dust surged for a moment as Amira raised her palm and then rushed together to form a perfect sphere a foot wide suspended in the air.
"Fool!" she snapped at the thief her voice unusually animated.
"We are sealed in now," she declared as rubble from the collapsing tunnel tricked into the chamber. In the distance there was a clank of metal against metal that began low and rhythmic. Sealed in, but perhaps not alone.
@POOHEAD189
Dashing the last few meters to the ball Junebug aimed a kick towards the basket. Before she could land it one of the enemy players smashed into her from the side sending her sprawling across the cobblestones. The world stuttered for a moment but she rolled to her feet in time to see the opponent racing down the field towards the basket. One of her team mates leaped onto the man's back bearing him down in a flurry of swinging fist and lashing feet. Pushing herself up she retrieved her staff in time to see another of her team kick the ball towards her in a long arc.
The song of the locals began to swell as the ball bounced before her. She swung her shield at it like a bat hammering it down field towards the basket. Howling with anger or excitement a massive man rushed at her. She thrust her staff like a spear into the fellows stomach setting her whole body against the weight. Even from a few feet away she heard the air rush from his lungs as the point took him beneath the sternum and he twisted sideways vomiting messily.
At the other end of the field a ruck had formed around the ball, which evidently had not gone in where locals clubed and kicked at each other in frantic excitement. Cursing under her breath Junebug saw Neil leap into the fray. Rushing down the field she drew her shield up in front of her intending to smash into the ruck, but quite suddenly the ball shot from the fracas and into the basket like a pit shooting from a namas fruit. They crowed roared and a bass gong sounded somewhere up on the zigguurat. As though someone had flicked a light switch the brawl ceased. The gong sounded again louder and more insistent. Junebug slowed to a cautious walk, uncertain if this was part of the game or if something had gone wrong.
@POOHEAD189
The song of the locals began to swell as the ball bounced before her. She swung her shield at it like a bat hammering it down field towards the basket. Howling with anger or excitement a massive man rushed at her. She thrust her staff like a spear into the fellows stomach setting her whole body against the weight. Even from a few feet away she heard the air rush from his lungs as the point took him beneath the sternum and he twisted sideways vomiting messily.
At the other end of the field a ruck had formed around the ball, which evidently had not gone in where locals clubed and kicked at each other in frantic excitement. Cursing under her breath Junebug saw Neil leap into the fray. Rushing down the field she drew her shield up in front of her intending to smash into the ruck, but quite suddenly the ball shot from the fracas and into the basket like a pit shooting from a namas fruit. They crowed roared and a bass gong sounded somewhere up on the zigguurat. As though someone had flicked a light switch the brawl ceased. The gong sounded again louder and more insistent. Junebug slowed to a cautious walk, uncertain if this was part of the game or if something had gone wrong.
@POOHEAD189
"Glad to hear it," Junebug called over the clatter of colliding players, ducking a swipe of a stick and sliding away from a tackle with an evasive twist of her lean body.
In a physical confrontation, be it sport, fighting, or a combination of the two as Radifiri seemed to be, the most important factors were physical size and strength. Junebug like a lot of female mercs had realized early on that she was at a disadvantage in both categories against the majority of opponents she was likely to face. There wasn't a native on the field that didn't have her by at least fifty pounds and the kind of strength that harsh primitive living imbued was no joke. The trick to surviving with such a disadvantage was to learn to fight dirty and never pass up an opportunity to put the boot in. The ball arced towards her but rather than focusing on it she leapt at her opponent, swinging the bottom edge of the shield at his face like a sword blade. It clattered from his shield with a force that rattled her teeth but rather than drawing back she surged closer driving a knee into her opponents crotch. With an inarticulate grunt he doubled over and she bought her other knee up into the point of his chin sending him sprawling to the floor.
In the academy all officer candidates had been required to play team sports as part of the curriculum. The process was a tried and tested method of making the cadets think as part of a team. Junebug like most cadets destined for the armored and played Kipsi. The game was played in micro-gravity with a small but heavy ball about the size of a grapefruit. The micro-gravity didn't allow true weightlessness but combined with very very smooth pitches made it difficult to bleed of momentum. You could pick up speed by running and bleed it off by dragging your feet, but it was many times more efficient to control your momentum of collection of poles which moved randomly across the pitch. Junebug had found that crashing into members of the opposing team to be doubly effective as any player who touched the side walls of the Kipsi chamber fell into a regular gravity zone and had to run back to the entry point for his team. Unfortunately while Kipsi was excellent preparation for controlling an air-cushioned vehicle, it was of limited utility here.
With a flick of her... staff? club? she directed the ball towards another member of what she hoped was her team, raising her shield to deflect the frenzied blow of an on rushing brute with a matted beard and teeth stained red with some sort of vegetable matter. She allowed the blow to turn her and twisted around the onrushing native, driving her elbow hard into his kidney as he stumbled past. Stars this was murderous a half dozen of the natives already showed bloodied noses or pressure cuts. It seemed to be poor form to hit a player while he was down, so she made an effort to make such blows appear accidental. The crowd was roaring as one of their team members kicked the ball at the basket, the hasty shot bouncing from the rim to the hoots and jeers of the opposition.
"Going to be kind of hard to run plays when we can't speak the language!" she called to Neil as they raced back towards their own baskets.
@POOHEAD189
In a physical confrontation, be it sport, fighting, or a combination of the two as Radifiri seemed to be, the most important factors were physical size and strength. Junebug like a lot of female mercs had realized early on that she was at a disadvantage in both categories against the majority of opponents she was likely to face. There wasn't a native on the field that didn't have her by at least fifty pounds and the kind of strength that harsh primitive living imbued was no joke. The trick to surviving with such a disadvantage was to learn to fight dirty and never pass up an opportunity to put the boot in. The ball arced towards her but rather than focusing on it she leapt at her opponent, swinging the bottom edge of the shield at his face like a sword blade. It clattered from his shield with a force that rattled her teeth but rather than drawing back she surged closer driving a knee into her opponents crotch. With an inarticulate grunt he doubled over and she bought her other knee up into the point of his chin sending him sprawling to the floor.
In the academy all officer candidates had been required to play team sports as part of the curriculum. The process was a tried and tested method of making the cadets think as part of a team. Junebug like most cadets destined for the armored and played Kipsi. The game was played in micro-gravity with a small but heavy ball about the size of a grapefruit. The micro-gravity didn't allow true weightlessness but combined with very very smooth pitches made it difficult to bleed of momentum. You could pick up speed by running and bleed it off by dragging your feet, but it was many times more efficient to control your momentum of collection of poles which moved randomly across the pitch. Junebug had found that crashing into members of the opposing team to be doubly effective as any player who touched the side walls of the Kipsi chamber fell into a regular gravity zone and had to run back to the entry point for his team. Unfortunately while Kipsi was excellent preparation for controlling an air-cushioned vehicle, it was of limited utility here.
With a flick of her... staff? club? she directed the ball towards another member of what she hoped was her team, raising her shield to deflect the frenzied blow of an on rushing brute with a matted beard and teeth stained red with some sort of vegetable matter. She allowed the blow to turn her and twisted around the onrushing native, driving her elbow hard into his kidney as he stumbled past. Stars this was murderous a half dozen of the natives already showed bloodied noses or pressure cuts. It seemed to be poor form to hit a player while he was down, so she made an effort to make such blows appear accidental. The crowd was roaring as one of their team members kicked the ball at the basket, the hasty shot bouncing from the rim to the hoots and jeers of the opposition.
"Going to be kind of hard to run plays when we can't speak the language!" she called to Neil as they raced back towards their own baskets.
@POOHEAD189
“No.”
The thief and the slave both froze at the word. It had not been loud, but it held a piercing quality in the cold desert night. The thief licked his lips and looked back and forth between his two apparent saviors in some concern.
“Eat nothing until sunrise,” she cautioned, sweeping a foot across the sand she had been drawing in a moment ago. Placing her own fish aside she turned and looked out over the desert.
“You must lay the bodies of the Ghuali and your friends also so that their feet face the rising sun.”
“My friends? Mistress I assure…” The thief began to object but Amria eyes, flashing in the firelight locked with the bandits for a long moment. Met began to shake and tore his eyes away with a visible effort and a prayer to Allah and a gesture to ward off evil. It took the two men the better part of half an hour to line the bodies up feet facing east. Severed limbs were piled atop of the corpse to whom they most likely belonged.
“We have no salt, so we must use fire,” Amira said, drawing a burning branch from their small blaze and, after muttering a prayer, touched it to the Ghul furthest along the line. Like oil igniting at the touch of flame, pale tongues of fire leapt over the ghuls gray flesh. It spread in a slow chain from body to body, even the recently dead humans began to blaze with the same pale fire.
“Lord of Wonders,” the thief said reverently kissing at some sort of silver icon he kept on a hemp cord around his neck.
“There is something wrong in this place,” Amira declared as her nose wrinkled slightly at the smell of burning flesh.
“Come, we must go.”
Without showing a moments hesitation the Sorceress led them out across the sands. The moon was bright and it was easy to find a way. For an hour or more they crossed the dunes until they reached a low sandstone bluff where she allowed her companions a few moments rest. Carefully she began running her hands over the sheer wall of sandstone.
“Master, what are you…” Rhaak began but as he spoke she pressed down on the stone and, to his amazement it slid away beneath her grip. There was a dry grinding sound as a large section of cliff, polished to perfection by the ancient camolgauge masters, slid to the side. A blast of musty fetid air rushed out to greet them.
“It will not be safe to travel by daylight,” she announced, “we will take refuge here.”
"Mistress..." Ma'kum began clearing his throat nervously.
"This is one of the tombs of the apostates, it is not safe to enter such a place."
"Stay if it pleases you," Amira said serenely, "Though I caution you against the daylight in this place."
@POOHEAD189
The thief and the slave both froze at the word. It had not been loud, but it held a piercing quality in the cold desert night. The thief licked his lips and looked back and forth between his two apparent saviors in some concern.
“Eat nothing until sunrise,” she cautioned, sweeping a foot across the sand she had been drawing in a moment ago. Placing her own fish aside she turned and looked out over the desert.
“You must lay the bodies of the Ghuali and your friends also so that their feet face the rising sun.”
“My friends? Mistress I assure…” The thief began to object but Amria eyes, flashing in the firelight locked with the bandits for a long moment. Met began to shake and tore his eyes away with a visible effort and a prayer to Allah and a gesture to ward off evil. It took the two men the better part of half an hour to line the bodies up feet facing east. Severed limbs were piled atop of the corpse to whom they most likely belonged.
“We have no salt, so we must use fire,” Amira said, drawing a burning branch from their small blaze and, after muttering a prayer, touched it to the Ghul furthest along the line. Like oil igniting at the touch of flame, pale tongues of fire leapt over the ghuls gray flesh. It spread in a slow chain from body to body, even the recently dead humans began to blaze with the same pale fire.
“Lord of Wonders,” the thief said reverently kissing at some sort of silver icon he kept on a hemp cord around his neck.
“There is something wrong in this place,” Amira declared as her nose wrinkled slightly at the smell of burning flesh.
“Come, we must go.”
Without showing a moments hesitation the Sorceress led them out across the sands. The moon was bright and it was easy to find a way. For an hour or more they crossed the dunes until they reached a low sandstone bluff where she allowed her companions a few moments rest. Carefully she began running her hands over the sheer wall of sandstone.
“Master, what are you…” Rhaak began but as he spoke she pressed down on the stone and, to his amazement it slid away beneath her grip. There was a dry grinding sound as a large section of cliff, polished to perfection by the ancient camolgauge masters, slid to the side. A blast of musty fetid air rushed out to greet them.
“It will not be safe to travel by daylight,” she announced, “we will take refuge here.”
"Mistress..." Ma'kum began clearing his throat nervously.
"This is one of the tombs of the apostates, it is not safe to enter such a place."
"Stay if it pleases you," Amira said serenely, "Though I caution you against the daylight in this place."
@POOHEAD189
Junebug’s smile could have cut glass. Careful to keep her teeth from grinding she rose to her feet.
“I would be honored,” she said evenly. By the look of worry in the Shaman’s eye she hadn’t been completely successful but that was alright. The cheering of the crowd rose as she followed Neil down the rough hewn stone steps towards the game field. She dearly hoped that the natives weren’t going to kill Niel, she wanted to do that herself. What had the man been thinking. On an instinct she looked over her shoulder and caught a glance of the Shaman’s pretty assistant beaming down at Neil’s back.
“Bleeding bloody stars,” she cursed although it was too quiet to carry over the crowd. Was their a man in the universe who wasn’t lead around by his prick? Not that the bloody fool of a girl was doing any better. They reached the ground before the zigurat and a score of large natives trotted out onto the field, each carrying a length of wood about five feet in length and half the thickness of a mans wrist, as well as a flat wooden shield that had been lacquered to a shinewith some sort of native resin. Above them Wetumpkah stood and bellowed loudly enough to be heard over the crowd. Two of the players peeled off and trotted towards Sayeeda and the pilot, offering them the shield and stick. Wordlessly Junebug took the gear and, dicovering the shield had a pair of leather straps on the back, slipped her hand through to clasp it to her forearm. Both items were light but solid.
“If you have any insight on how Radafiri is played, now is the time,” she commented acidly. Neil turned to look at her.
“I..uhhh..” he began.
“That is more or less what I thought,” she sighed. The group was splitting up into two distinct teams. A pair of hoops each painted the dirty orange of rock pigment was placed at each end of the sixty meter strip of cobblestones and the men, they were all men, took up positions along either end. Junebug went with her ‘team’ and stood in the loose line. As the did so a small child, no more than six trotted onto the field with a leather ball beneath its arms. Nervously they tossed it to the floor and scampered away. As one all the players tilted back their heads and yelled an odd undulating war cry. As if by some signal they cut of and lurched towards the ball at full speed, shields and sticks raised.
@POOHEAD189
“I would be honored,” she said evenly. By the look of worry in the Shaman’s eye she hadn’t been completely successful but that was alright. The cheering of the crowd rose as she followed Neil down the rough hewn stone steps towards the game field. She dearly hoped that the natives weren’t going to kill Niel, she wanted to do that herself. What had the man been thinking. On an instinct she looked over her shoulder and caught a glance of the Shaman’s pretty assistant beaming down at Neil’s back.
“Bleeding bloody stars,” she cursed although it was too quiet to carry over the crowd. Was their a man in the universe who wasn’t lead around by his prick? Not that the bloody fool of a girl was doing any better. They reached the ground before the zigurat and a score of large natives trotted out onto the field, each carrying a length of wood about five feet in length and half the thickness of a mans wrist, as well as a flat wooden shield that had been lacquered to a shinewith some sort of native resin. Above them Wetumpkah stood and bellowed loudly enough to be heard over the crowd. Two of the players peeled off and trotted towards Sayeeda and the pilot, offering them the shield and stick. Wordlessly Junebug took the gear and, dicovering the shield had a pair of leather straps on the back, slipped her hand through to clasp it to her forearm. Both items were light but solid.
“If you have any insight on how Radafiri is played, now is the time,” she commented acidly. Neil turned to look at her.
“I..uhhh..” he began.
“That is more or less what I thought,” she sighed. The group was splitting up into two distinct teams. A pair of hoops each painted the dirty orange of rock pigment was placed at each end of the sixty meter strip of cobblestones and the men, they were all men, took up positions along either end. Junebug went with her ‘team’ and stood in the loose line. As the did so a small child, no more than six trotted onto the field with a leather ball beneath its arms. Nervously they tossed it to the floor and scampered away. As one all the players tilted back their heads and yelled an odd undulating war cry. As if by some signal they cut of and lurched towards the ball at full speed, shields and sticks raised.
@POOHEAD189
If only it stopped there (with limitations), I'd be fine with it.
First we get marriage equality then we force people to recognize gender pronouns at gunpoint, then we set up the gulag system. Its all falling into place...
The power to marry who we want, those liberal monsters!
<Snipped quote by Penny>
Mine too. I don't even HAVE a husband yet.
Me either, and I have to find one, leave him and then become a lesbian.
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