Hey there, TTFF. Me again ready to spread some of my skills in writing. First, a quick history of the series, just for kicks.


ART, also known as "A Rogue's Tale", is a series I started when I first joined one of the many Sonic-based forums. I liked the idea of having my series Sonic-based, but as the years passed, so did I. I made this an original idea, despite the fact that it started off as Sonic-based material.

This series stars my main male character, "Sly" Thorn, and all of the wacky, scary and dysfunctional adventures he partakes in. Originally from Earth, he and siblings travel to a parallel universe, this time with bipedal anthronized characters in the mix, as well as other races and species. As he appears for the first time at age sixteen, his siblings have disappeared from him and so he travels to find them.

Along the way, he meets new people and yes, he does get his **** handed to him while he's there. He's new, so it's expected. His feelings for this new universe changes as he ages, soon making up his mind at age twenty, which explains the "four years" bit. He decides on staying in this universe, happy to learn what he has learned from the different people he has met, as well as enemies-turned-friends.

(Spoiler: There were deaths throughout his four years, some mentioning of his family and siblings, but are they really?)

Chronicles takes place after his long, permanent stay in this universe not only chronicling Sly's point of view, but from many others that go through life in this universe. Some will be more realistic than others, others will be fiction, and others might be creepy, but I mean well. I'll be going over all types of people (at least, hee) in the series, so be prepared for lots of twists and turns, as well as some blood and some slapstick comedy.

I would have written more, but perhaps for another time, or you can PM me for questions that are bugging you about the series or characters in the series. I'll wait a day or two before I officially open Chronicles to TTFF. Until then, I hope you at TTFF will enjoy what I have to offer.

And now, without further adieu, I will open Chronicles to TTFF. A small note before you read: some will be shorter than others, some may be longer. Main thing would be that the theme for most of the stories that capture your eyes will be Mature. Others will be more in a leisure tone, you understand. I try to focus more on people's reactions to another being, their surroundings and whatnot. So, here is a double feature to kick things off. Hope you all enjoy.


Typical Day (Before The Kids)


“In the small village of Nightshade, the areas around there are of a beautiful landscape. Simplicity at its best, a friendly environment, and good spots for all the young, rowdy ones to hang out. It is also here that a certain couple lives, spending the rest of their time together. The husband-to-be is always out and working, while the wife-to-be is at home, keeping the home tidy. We now see how life is for them, in the afternoon…”

{October, 2; 12:23 PM}

A male human, dressed in a long, brown coat, with a jade shirt underneath, black pants, and white/charcoal shoes is standing beside a small, simple home. Thin smoke emitting from a chimney set here, the windows in their circular designing, the house bathed in a peach coating, and he is standing in front of the door, sighing. Brushing his medium, spiky brown hair back, he grasps the door and opens it to see a loving female woman, dressed in a horizontal-striped blue/white blouse and faded jeans, her chestnut brown hair flying back as a small draft blows across the living room.

“What took you so long, this time?” she asks him, waiting impatiently.

“Ehh, just out for a walk. No adventuring this time, I swear,” the male answers, raising his right palm up. The woman smiling, the male takes this as a sign of approval, walking in to settle down and relax. In the living room, with numerous pictures of friends and family laying everywhere along the oak counters, the male takes a seat in a large couch, while the female takes a seat in a recliner, opposite to him, but facing him.

“Sly, you worry me.”

Gulping to hear her words of simplicity, he replies: “Look Alexis, I’m not tryin’ to do this on purpose. Hell, I always think of you whenever I’m gone.”

“Really? Why don’t you take me with you on any of your trips, then?” she asks, stressing Sly out.

“It’s just…” Sweat began rolling down his forehead, thinking of a way to satisfy her, without breaking down.

“It’s just, what?” She crosses her legs and folds her arms, waiting for him to answer.

“darn it, woman. These trips are just too dangerous for you, and besides,” he pauses, getting up from the couch and walking to her, caressing her left cheek, “I don’t want to see your pretty self all scarred and scratched because of some child’s decision.” He ends his statement with a smile, the woman jerking away from him, looking the other way.

“I don’t believe you,” she answers, grinning evilly.

“I’m dead serious!!” he whines playfully. “You know that…”

Alexis turns around and punches Sly’s right shoulder, causing him to flinch and rub his shoulder, though the injury was not critical. The two lunge at each other and give a passionate kiss to each other’s lips, holding one another tight. Leaning their heads back, they speak the following:

“Still clever, child,” Sly tells her, grinning.

“Still the same kid I always loved,” Alexis replies, chuckling.

Breaking apart from the hug, they look towards the kitchen and find thick smoke appearing from the stove.

“The food!!” the two shout in unison, rushing over to the kitchen to deal with the problem, together.

{4 Minutes Later}

The two are found sitting opposite from each other in a small table, eating the burnt food she prepared from earlier. Some vegetables, corn, potatoes and steak lay in front of them, smelling burnt, with glasses of red wine to their side, with the exception of Sly who has an extra glass of orange soda, in case the wine is finished earlier. With Alexis shaking her head from side-to-side, grinning, the two eat together in peace.

“When will you leave again?” she asks, making quick conversation.

“I plan on staying here a while, ‘fore I leave again. Figured I tour the world, once more, see who I meet, what kind of mess I’ll get myself into.”

Fiddling around with the potatoes with a fork, she tells him: “You must have thought of everything.”

“Heh, that I have, babe. That I have.” Sighing, the two stop and look to each other, exchanging looks. “Don’t worry. I promise not to get myself killed this time.”

“No, don’t you worry about that. If I find out something sneaky from you, I’ll kill you.” Her words concerned Sly greatly, his smile crooked. Sighing, she tells him: “Don’t take stuff so seriously.”

“You, scare me sometimes,” he answers softly.

“I, scare you? Please…” She laughs, while he plays with his fiddles around with his food, grinning a few seconds after.

“Woman, one day, you’ll be the true death of me.”

“Sooner than you think,” she retorts, the two finishing up their early dinner.


Code of Freedom

“In the outskirts of one of the vast, barren wastelands far beyond deserts, lies a swordsman who continues to train himself, preparing for any sudden obstacle to occur. It is strange to see that a lone swordsman, pair himself up with just anyone, but has found the true meaning of friendship in the eyes of a goofy human. His story holds many a secretive past…”

{November 4; 11:56 PM}

Inhale; then a slow exhale. In a barren wasteland, lies a Tasmanian tiger swordsman, coated in a tan coat, a horizontal blue stripe across his snout, a flick of fur sticking outward from the forehead, bearing a thin gray coat, shirtless underneath and loose brown pants, barefooted. Aside the right waist laid a sheath for his blade, which is now empty, for he carries the blade and swings it about in a calm manner.

Rain begins to pour from the heavens, his eyes closed for greater concentration. He begins with a diagonal left slash, following it with a right horizontal; twisting his body to the right, he brings the blade behind him and stabs backwards, twisting the hilt to ensure a final blow. Executing a back flip, launching the swordsman upward, he plants his blade into the ground and uses the momentum to swing his body around, his legs outward, swinging around the hilt thrice before leaping off and switching to hand-to-hand combat.

Balling his right hand into a fist, he executes a straight jab, then a left under-jab, following it with a right hook, and finishes the combo with a left back kick, beads of water flying about from the foot. Gently bringing his foot down to the earth below, the soil begins to moisten, yet he will not let a flaw like this stop him. Launching his right palm upward and following it with a jumping two-hit kick combo, he leaps backward, sliding across the muddy ground, grasping his blade and pulling it out, earth’s crust on the tip of his blade.

Running forward with his blade outward to the left, he unleashes two quick, forward slashes, before leaping upwards and striking the wet soil with a splitter slash. Lightning struck when his blade touched the ground, his gray eyes presenting themselves to find the night sky, the rain and the sound of thunder, inviting him to dance with them. Switching his blade to show the hilt in front, he thrusts forward and switches the blade back around; launching himself forward, executing a fan kick, he stabs backward with a tight grip on the blade.

The swordsman then performs a head butt, following it with a rising knee; using that momentum, he back flips and pierces the ground once more, swinging his legs outward. Bringing his legs upward, he leans forward, retrieves his blade and executes a strong splitter slash, lightning following afterwards. As he stops, his heart races in excitement, standing upward as if past memories were coming back to him.

{Flashback}

In the past, he was an assassin, a cold-hearted one at that. Ordered to kill targets, without questioning his masters and those in a higher rank than him. He has killed many innocents, brought heroes to their knees, all in swift movement.

Fatal Fang was the guild he worked for, aiding young killers-to-be to succeed the elders for when their time is up. When he was assigned to eliminate a certain human target, all was changed that one day. The human he fought was unlike any other he had encountered. The human was tricky, but this was only a mere human to him. How could he have been beaten?

Awaiting his honorable death by the human, since this is what the swordsman believed in, the human refused. Angered by the human’s actions, he barked for the human to claim his life, for this would be dishonorable for the Tasmanian tiger.

“You still can make your own choice. Why give up now, when there are so many possibilities?” The human told him, leaving the premises, with a thinking swordsman kneeling about his words…

{End Flashback}

Continuing his swordplay demonstration to sharpen his skills, the swordsman attacks in ferocity, his movement in grace, adapting to the environment around him. The sound of thunder: his music; the rain: his drink; the lightning: his audience. Loud claps praise him, beads rehydrate his sore body, he stomps the ground in might just before cleaning his blade and slowly sheathing his blade.

“If not for you, I would have not taken this path. I thank you…”

{12:00 PM}

“…young child of prophecy.” His eyes shut close and reopen, leaving the wastelands, in search for shelter.

Ahem, another installment in teh chronicles. This chronicle features both Arkham and Rez (only in the flashback section). Arkham awakes to find that he is in a long, dark and dank underground tunnel, and realizes that neither way present light, but only the tiny speck of light from where, he thinks, he may have fallen from. So now he tries to find a way out, and reminisces about an earlier conversation with another of the three brothers.

I wanted to go back to a darker mood for this chronicle and wanted to make the situation more harder for the character. He has no flashlight, elements are useless and to top it off, the body suffers heavy fatigue. Quite the scary scenario for any person, unless they know how to spend their time. Hope this intrigues you all.

Best read when listening to this track here.
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To Dream

When one risks his or her life to uncover the truth behind an event, one does not know of the consequences they will have to face later. The burdens may become too much for them, death may seem like a reasonable option. For those that survive death, their fates are far worse. One of the triumvirate brothers realizes this…

{August 6; 8:24 PM}

…The view is blurry. Drip, drip, drip. A body slowly rises from a small stream in an underground tunnel. Groaning, the body places its hand over its head, looking upwards to see a narrow speck of light, high above it.

“Ugh…what, happened??” From the smooth, deep voice tone of the body, it is of a male being. The male then stumbles forward, nearly tripping into the stream. Slowly turning around, he finds black from behind. Looking ahead of him, he finds the same colouring; no light, but the one above, presents itself.

“Where, am I??” he questions the empty walls of the tunnel, more beads of water crashing down to the stream and ledges next to him. His body feels weak, not enough to carry his own weight to reach to the top of a ledge. His vision coming back to him, a pain in the left side of his waist occurs, forcing to lay his right hand over it.

Limping his way for forward, his breathing becomes irregular; no doubt that the long sleep might have caused such irregular breathing to happen. He does not even know how long he has been out for, especially how he came to this place. Did he fall by accident? Perhaps he was pushed in? If so, who, or what, did it? He knows that he could have avoided this; he has the strength to prove it. Maybe he had overlooked something…

{Flashback}

Two figures are shown in a large, elegant study hall: one of a blood-red velociraptor in tattered clothing, and the same man walking through the tunnel, identified as a jet-black komodo dragon, clothed in a brown, leather coat and dark brown pants. The komodo looks to the velociraptor and notes the strange behavior from it.

“What are you up to this time??” It does not answer, it only growls, ready to strike the komodo down. “Brother, calm yourself!! You can defeat the entity from within!! Force it out of your—!”

“There is nothing you can do to save this soul,” the velociraptor spoke, only it was not his voice, but of another inside of it. It charges after the komodo and everything turns white.

{End Flashback}

“…I remember a…door from below opening,” he mouthed out, the words echoing softly off the walls, “…how could I have been so foolish?? He cannot be saved. Even worse, how am I to escape this endless road??”

So onward he walks, the pain surging through his body, making it difficult to even make a step forward. Slowly, he kneels into the stream, glancing at his own dim reflection. Jagged fangs and a grinning demon smile appears from the reflection, his breathing returning to normal state. Forcing his body to continue onward, small ripples form from beneath him, bouncing off the lower portions of the ledges. He then disappears into the unknown, determined to find a way out. The thoughts of confusion bind his mind; he also wishes to know why this happened and for what purpose it will serve.

I have the next installation which involves two friends and drinks. Wanna know more? Then read and find out what happens, XP.
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No Drinking

The world is full of fighting. What is your reason for fighting today?

{March 12; 9:00 AM}

In the heart of a thick jungle, lies a large wooden platform that rises above the root level of the many trees that reside. Four lit torches sit themselves in each of the corners, tiny flies buzzing across the area, squawking birds in the far distances. Coming on to the platform are two well-built male warriors; the first one is an arctic tiger, white being the dominant color and his stripes the black; he is dressed in tan pants, suitable for easy movement and nothing more. His red eyes leer at his opponent, being an alligator, green being the dominant color, his tail as strong as metal; he is clothed in light orange pants, decorated with jade vertical stripes at the very bottom.

The alligator’s violet eyes meet with the tiger’s red and the two prepare to go into combat. Both spread their legs apart slightly to attain a certain distance and keep both arms held to their sides, clenching and cracking the knuckles. As the alligator stomps the platform with his left leg, a board flies, loosely, upward and backhands the piece to break it in half.

The tiger gently sways his body movement to gather spiritual energy and to relive himself of weld-up tension. The two lock eyes, let out their battle roar and lunge at one another, engaging in combat.

The two engage in a grapple, as they both attempt to throw one another to the side. They soon break from the hold and the tiger is the first to throw an attack, a jab to the midsection of the alligator. The alligator leaps back, arching his back outward and dodges the incoming jab; quickly, he rolls forward and lets his rough tail fly towards the tiger’s right thigh area. The attack connects and forces the tiger to stagger back, slightly.

Using whatever momentum left, the alligator lunges with a cross arm chop to the tiger’s chest; clenching his right fist, the tiger falls backward before the attack could connect, catches the alligator’s arms, plants his foot on the airborne reptile and hurls him into one of the corners, crashing. The impact, however, did not break the corner but weakened it greatly. Pushing himself up, the reptile runs to the feline, who seems to be coming up with a plan. The reptile slightly lifts his left leg, forcing the feline to hold his hands in a position to catch it midway; instead, the alligator stomps his leg down, leaps upward and delivers a drop kick to the tiger’s face.

The tiger rolls backward, trying to regain balance and succeeds by skidding on the smooth platform, dust flying off in the opposite direction. As the alligator lands to the ground, the tiger immediately leaps forward in a great burst of speed and stomps the alligator’s stomach, soon kicked in the back to fly off the reptile. Flipping himself up, the reptile executes a backhand which collides with the feline’s elbow. Holding in that position, they switch to another pattern; the alligator binds his hands together and comes crashing down with a dropping hammer fist, while the tiger performs a rising hammer fist, the two colliding.

Releasing their hands to allow oxygen to enter within them, they strengthen their legs and proceed to fighting. The reptile executes a roundhouse; the feline ducks underneath and counters with a rising knee; hit from the rising knee, the reptile forces his body, while in mid-air, forward and executes a quick, singular drop kick to the tiger’s face, the two falling downward once more. Baring their sharp teeth at each other, the two engage in extreme combat; the two commence in numerous fist techniques, then foot techniques, sweat already dripping to the dry wood below.

They soon engage in grapple techniques; the tiger grabs the reptile around the waist, punches the left side of his face and unleashes a german suplex. The reptile gets up, despite the pain dealt to him, runs and catches the standing feline’s head, leaps forward and executes a hammer throw, suffering great injury. As the alligator flips his body around to go for a submission, the tiger snaps and grabs his arms, twists them, stands and throws him over to the ground, another piece of wood flying out.

The reptile, now on his back, eyes the tiger’s lower leg areas, wraps his hands around the feline’s ankles and pulls with great force, tripping him. Swiftly, the alligator leaps aboard the tiger and executes many punches; in return, the tiger sees an opening, dodges the next punch, forces the alligator to his back and does the same. The two break and stay a good distance from one another, panting as strong fatigue sets in.

A while has passed, and the sun is still high, just a little over to the east. The two catch their breath, stand upright and eye at each other, letting out wild laughter.

“Ahh, haven’t had that much excitement in weeks,” bellowed the tiger, a strong smooth voice emitting from him.

“A while longer, and you would have been begging for mercy,” the alligator replies, pointing a scaly finger towards the feline, a husky voice emitting from him.

“I only lost the touch of battle’s grace, and nothing more,” the feline growls in defense, planting his feet firmly on the platform.

“Again with the excuses? Pitiful,” the reptile answers, laughing some more.
“Hah, what say we head back for drinks? I know you could use one,” the feline grins slyly, knowing one of the reptiles’ weaknesses.

“After listening to more of your rants, yes,” he answers, the tiger quickly swinging an arm around the alligator’s neck, brushing his fist to the scaly head of his friend. The two continue to conversate as they walk side-by-side deeper into the jungle, with the tiger laughing up a storm.

This tells of a demon trying to find an escape and stuffs. Wish to know what happens to it? Read and find out.


Listen to first song only, after you've read the bolded intro. (Ends at 2:09) It gives that certain mood to it.
And yes: this story is Mature-rated. Warning to those that think too good with thier imaginary skills.

Silent Film

What drives the sane, insane? The insane, sane? Sensitivity to the spiritual world? Near-fatal accidents? Revelations? Or perhaps, the hunger for more? Wise to keep the mad ones locked away, but foolish to leave the lock unattended to. Someone, or rather something, could try to destroy the lock...

Ravenous howls echo off the deaden walls of the void, oozing in burgundy, violet, hunter green, and jet black. The colours take their turns separately, combining with the black; sometimes three colours appear, and a rare case, all four. Presented betwixt the oozing walls is an endless, narrow corridor, keeping a hidden secret deep within. The howls continue and revealed ahead is a rusty silver cage: the bars are under heavy damaging, dried blood rests in numerous spots inside, a dirty skull sits next to the upper-left corner, eyeing at the beast who attempts to set itself free. The beast is a naked demon; brimming golden eyes, rough dark-red skin, claws up to five feet long for the hands, pointed ears, well-toned, with a slightly slim physique.

Biting, clawing, cursing, and thunderous roars, it delivers a great kick to the bars ahead; within seconds, the bars collapse. Astonished, the eyes widen and an excited smile extends widely, baring its sharp fangs. A weak chuckle escapes its scarred throat, followed by laughters of excitement. Satisfied, it lunges from the cage and proceeds forward, running at a mad speed of Mach 3. Tiny clouds of ash rise as the demon ventures forward through the explicit corridor, now converting into slideshows that are seen in the world, at that very moment.

The silent black-and-white films replace the null coloured walls, the demon slows down its pace to glance at few. The first shows of a romantic couple, a male presenting a gift to a female; the second of the inside of an asylum, sound emitting from it, the sounds of groaning and sudden laughter; a third shows of a villain wreaking havoc upon a village, keeping an iron fist, unsatisfied.

Realizing as more films appear on the walls, the sound effects become louder, an endless array of arrows launched towards its ears. Its excited smile begins to fade, yet maintains itself as the demon dashes towards a speck of light that shines ahead of it. Releasing a sudden “Hah!!”, it echoes off the films, silencing them, dramatically into black. Demons show no fear, no matter what the cause or situation; this time is different. The sudden void rang in the demon’s ears, causing a slight wrack to its body as it ran madly ahead. Its legs begin to tire, its breath begins to shorten, time feels slow around it. Clenching its fists, two films reappear but of people suffering agony at the hands of Grim’s loyal servants. Their screams catch it off-guard, its legs working well, despite a slight pain to the right calf.

Another four come into view, this time in the form of various laughter from different tones. The low-toned sent pain to its neck, the between-toned sent pain to the legs, the high-toned sent pains to the chest, while the shriek-toned smashes its head. As each second passes, more films come from all directions, laughing, crying, suffering, children laughing. It became too much for the demon to bear; it looks ahead for the speck of light and finds it farther than usual. Twitching, it pushes its limits to reach for that light, that last bit of hope, of relief from this ****ed place.

Some films jumped right into its ears, deafening it momentarily, the brain processing too much information; eventually, the pain transcended into its eyes, becoming blind for the moment. It remembered to stay forward and not linger anywhere else. That, it did and when vision came to, the speck of light was still out of view. Irregular breathing seeped in, its veins came into view, oh god, how it wants to escape from this madhouse of horrors! Its deaf ears signal the paths to take; its semi-blind eyes tell it not to trust the films’ traps.

Leave! Leave! Out of this netherealm, and into salvation!!

Strangely, it brought it closer to the light, and overjoyed, its spreads its smile wide to the point where the jaws are far beyond the pain it can endure. The legs already swollen, the head throbbing of the continuous chaos from both sides, the light was within view! It extends it right arm, the claws scratching at thin air, snarling, roaring to open the portal wider!

Free!!!

Lunging through the light, it enters a room filled with holy light, searing its skin in third-degree burns. It looks to its claws, the skin peeling right off in big chunks. It screams, oh how that demon screamed for its life, begging not to have leapt through that very hole, not to have escaped from the cage it dwelled from. But nay, the pure light condemns it for its stupidity, believing that escape can come so easily when faced with the Reaper itself. Kneeling while holding the muscle portion of its face, whatever skin is left on it, it continues to scream and looks back to see that ****ed hole, closing.

Lying on the ground, it scampers, the best it could, across the ground to reach the hole in time, heavy smoke flying off the many points of its, truly naked body. It extends a weak arm to the hole; it shuts itself close, like the mean child it is. Inside of the corridor, the demon’s screams complement to the numerous films that play in the narrow corridor, soon disappearing to the colours that were previously shown. The cage that it escaped from, that same skull, the void in its eyes...

...was it prey to that hungry demon? Or there to have warned it? A dim light reveals itself in the abyss of the left socket, its secrets never to be found.

confusing, but in a cool, artsy way! i love the creativity, and the story is gripping!

Which story, pray tell?

Oh! I assumed it was all one loosely connected story! Kinda like Sin City by Frank Miller.

the last is my favorite though!

You could say Chronicles is Sin City-esque, hee. I'm glad you like them and hope to enjoy future installments.

Hello again; here is the next installment. Been meaning to practice advanced fighting, using the environment to thy advantage. Here ya go.


Xtreme Situation (Practice)

Drowsy Stadium…
A massive building that stands ten stories high, rows of seats piling in each level. Many flags fly at the very top, lights showering downward on whatever event is held here. A man, whose last name happened to be Drowsy, founded this very building in honor of many sports that were to be held here. At night is where the stadium looked its best, yet on this particular night, an unreserved match is to take place…

{February 3; 2:13 AM}

In the southwestern region of the stadium lies a double-door entrance, holding firmly in place. The lights are on, a sudden breeze kicks in; the door begins to bang in anger. Thrice, and four more, the entrance burst wide open, a flying lizard in tatters skidding along the concrete ground. From the entrance are two people, a couple, both human; a male with short black hair, white dress shirt and gray slacks, black dress shoes, around the age of fifty; a female with a brown/yellow ponytail, wearing a long green dress just a little below the knee point, with short-heeled black shoes, around the age of fifty also.

The lizard leaps upward and reveals itself to be a Berserker lizard, the dangerous of most styles to ever be taught to one person. Its fangs drooling in its saliva, its eyes: they bear a bullseye design, only the inner ring. The couple pants slowly as the lizard charges without hesitation. Lashing a right claw towards them, the two ducked underneath it and brought themselves with a rising knee; the lizard takes the pairs’ attack and elbows them in their chests, causing them to stumble. As it lunges towards the woman, the man regains his balance and leaps towards it, taking a slash to the left shoulder.

In mid-air, the male grabs the lizard with the right arm and proceeds to choking the life from it. Gasping, the lizard shoves its claws into the male’s right ab and breaks free, leaping to its feet, scratching at his stomach and finishes with a strong kick to the stomach, sending the male flying into a concrete wall, bouncing downward to the ground. The lizard turns around to go after the woman when it receives the bottom spike portion of the heel to its right shoulder. Twitching, the lizard grabs the woman’s right arm, scratching away her flesh; the woman escapes the hold, with little flesh torn off, a shoe impaled in the lizard’s shoulder still. She pushes it away and proceeds with a back kick, popping the Berserker in mid-air; she attempts a crescent kick and succeeds, but suffers great damage to her left leg as the Berserker lizard swiftly slashed at it. Falling from the injury, she grabs at her open wounded leg, trying to keep pressure on it; the Berserker gave her no chance to react to its swift movements. It lashed many a swift claw, and she dodges most of them, some colliding with her face and arms. As it goes for the impalement to her breast, the male comes from behind, grabs the Berserker firmly and smashes it into a wall, the concrete from it shattering from its place.

Still keeping a firm hold on it, the male then hurls it across the long, tedious corridors of the stadium, finally coming to a standstill as it crashes into a wide, thick pole, lying unconscious. The man helps the woman with her leg and the two take their time towards the Berserker, making sure it stays unconscious. Panting, they check on one another:

“Are you okay, Elizabeth?” the man asks his life partner, concerned heavily for the leg injury.

“I’m fine. Thank you, Robert,” she replies to her life partner as the two look down towards the pole to find that the Berserker is no longer there, “Robert!!”

Clenching his left fist, the blood trickling down to it, he helps her towards the staircase near them until the Berserker leaps at the injured couple and strikes. The woman flies off towards one of the many halls, her other shoe skidding towards her, while Robert is sent flying down half of the rows in the first level of the stadium, quickly regaining balance, at the loss of his left arm. The Berserker leaps at the injured Robert and produces more slashes towards his broken left arm, his screams shattering the lonely silence that fills the massive arena. Forcing his left arm to defend against another oncoming attack, he attacks the lizard with a jab to its abdomen, slightly stunning it, then trips the lizard who falls on its nose upon one of the stairs.

Face down on its belly, the lizard uses its tail and smacks the right arm into further submission, tearing away of the bicep flesh, a tiny spray of blood flying from it. Grinding his teeth from the pain, he receives another tail attack from the Berserker and falls down another row, weak and dazed. Laughing from the glory, the Berserker leaps upward to send a downward claw to his head; finally killing him at last, Elizabeth comes flying from the corridors and executes a flying kick to the airborne Berserker, its hisses heard as it flies down the remaining rows, crashing head first ontu the grassy plain below. She lands safely a row behind Robert and goes to his aid.

“You, alright, baby??” Robert coughs out to her.

“Oh, you,” Elizabeth manages to smile at the injured Robert, helping him up to his feet, “let’s make sure it stays dead, hmm?”

He nods and the two perform a daring leap to the plain below; he lands first, still concerned for her leg injury, and catches her. They find the Berserker thrashing on the ground, leaping upwards as they find the shoe impaled in him, from earlier, now in its right eye. With its other eye, it lunges at the couple once more, determined to mutilate them for the mistake they have made. Their fists in anger, Robert executes a quick jab to its chest, the Berserker receives the hit but slashes at his right arm, the clothes now in a mess. Elizabeth then moves in, executes a rising knee to the Berserker’s chin area and while it comes crashing down, she retrieves her other shoe, slips it on and stomps on the lizard’s head and heart areas, the lizard continuing its thrashing until few seconds passed when it finally gave up the ghost.

Twitching all over his body, Robert helps Elizabeth off of the Berserker and hold each other, well aware of the blood dripping from their bodies, inhaling and exhaling softly.

“As how he would put it, ‘Never pass out on a Make-Sure Shot possibility’,” he coughed out. Elizabeth could not agree any more. The two made their way up the rows to the main entrance, the Berserker now dead. A small twitch from the body is made while the couple had their backs turned on it...

The next one; the sequel to "TD: (Before The Kids)", appropriately titled. Little surprise waiting at the bottom once you're finished reading.


Typical Day (After The Kids)

A man, wearing a brown coat and blue pants with his medium black hair hanging down to the neck area, comes to the front of his house, tired as ever, his body worn from today's labor. Anger is filled in his eyes, and he still waits on his check to come by so that he can feed both him and his wife. Opening the door, after straightening himself out, he storms inside, looks straight ahead and lashes out his right arm forward, holding a fist.

"Hah!!" he grunted, keeping the fist steady.

"Nyah!!" a little girl around the age of eight shouts, holding her right hand outward, her thumb to the left and pinky to the right.

A smile washes away the man's burden and scoops up the little girl in his arms and places her on his shoulders. She wraps her arms around his neck, while her legs dangle from the shoulders of the man. "We're flying, we're flying!!" the man says playfully, hearing the child giggle as the man swerves about inside the living room, "and now we're falling," he tells her with a good impression of a saddened face, stumbling to the right, the child's laughter continuing.

"Hm, alright you two, settle down," the wife tells them, her voice heard from the kitchen where she is preparing dinner for the family. Cutting up some lettuce and tomatoes on a cutting board, underneath the table lies a small boy around the age of six, eyeing his mother's every movement as well as keeping his eyes on the delicious food he cannot wait to eat. Pulling on the mother's dress as she cuts, she halts on her actions, looks downward and finds the son, grinning and waiting when the food will be done. "Go and wait in the living room. Your father's there," she tells him, the little son pouting once he hears this. She shakes her head and continues preparation while the son greets his father who is seen on a recliner, and the daughter on the stretch couch, sitting up properly. The son enters the conversation by hopping on the couch with his sister, scooting opposite from her and lying on his back.

"Your sister has been telling me that you were being a little hell raiser again, weren't you?" the father asks the son, who is seen shaking his head in disagreement.

"It's true!" shouted the sister, only making it worse for the son, turning away from his father.

"Anyway, how was school today for the both of you?" the father changes the subject, waiting to hear any accomplishments made by his own children.

"I got an A in my Math class, daddy," the daughter tells him with glee.

"Ahh, wonderful. Proud of you; you know I might need your help next time I pay the bills, ya?" the father joked around, hearing his daughter giggle from the joke.

"What about you, son? Do anything cool?" he attempts to grab his son's attention, but to no avail.

"Hmph," was all the little boy could say.

"You were probably being a dummy again, huh?" the sister accused her brother.

Offended by this remark, the little boy sits upward and looks his sister in the eye: "Hey, I'm tryin' to bring happy to the dull there. Since when have we seen smiles there??"

"Alright, you two. Don't start anything or else it'll be my head," the father tells the two, the wife just above him while he relaxes in the recliner.

"Sooner than you think," she replies, forcing the husband to leap from the recliner, acting like a feline would do when surprised, causing the wife and daughter to laugh; a small chuckle escapes from the son.

"Dad...hey, least I knows where I gots my funny from, hee," boasted the son who leaps off the couch and poses heroically.

The father calms down and walks to his son, patting his tiny hair: "Least I know it ain't going to die, heh." The son only chuckled in response. The husband looks to his wife, who stands by the daughter and tells her: "I swear, it's if we created two mini versions of ourselves, don't you think so, baby?" She nods in response, grinning while hugging her daughter.

The son raises his nose upward and takes a whiff of a peculiar scent: "What's dat smell?" The entire family look towards the kitchen and find thin smoke rising from the very stove that held the main dinner.

"Not again...!!" the husband and wife strike their faces with their palms, telling their children to stay in the living room while they deal with the small problem. In secret, the children go in to help them out.

-It's only another day in your average, married life, I guess, heh...-


(If anyone could guess correctly, in the beginning, of how I based the intro, high five and premium cookie to you, heh.)

Here's a new one from me. Short, but it explains what Life means to this particular person. Wanted to go for a leisure-y type chronicle here; enjoy.


Quiet Serenade

{August 11; 3:42 PM}

A peach-coloured sky illuminates the sunny afternoon, the clouds in disarray, and the red sun shone towards West. A big field, neighbor to a highway-leading road, filled with tall grass that bends gently from side-to-side, playful winds coming by and then gone. A lone orchard tree sits itself in the grass, acting as sanctuary to weary travelers, shielding from the harmful heat rays, should the days ever get hot. Underneath the tree lies a lazy figure, resting from a long travel that put his feet to steamy defeat. The figure is a male ferret: tan/brown furred, a chocolate-brown suit’s hat resting on the head, found in a white dress shirt and beige pants, with the brown shoes off, exposing white socks which he rests in the tall grass. The shoes are laid east of the ferret, and a dark brown suit top is laid neatly behind him, serving as a small pillow for his back.

Humming as another playful wind whisks by, he opens his eyes, exposing yellow eyes to view the world in a more positive perspective. Smiling as he takes in a breath, he releases afterwards, reminiscing of the past memories etched within his mind. “Hmmm, I shure am glad all that them changes been made. Never woulda imagined if things had gone different, now. For the best, I suppose...”

Shifting positions to lying on his left side, he finds more trees in the distance, the sky’s colouring blinding his vision slightly. He nods and turns on his right, staring down at the pavement road, the thick yellow and black lines painted carefully in the middle. “Mm, nothin’ new today, as usual. Just same ol’, same ol’. Sometimes, mo’ peaceful that way. Nevah ‘preciated the new things people got going on today. ‘There ought to be change’. ‘Life gon’ pass you by if you slow down’. ‘Best get movin’; opportunity gon’ knock once, and once only’. Heh, priceless.”

A strange melody plays in a muffled state, causing the ferret to break from the distraction and check in to the matter. Digging into his right pant pocket, he pulls out a silver pocket watch, with a golden carnation flower embedded in the middle; pressing on the button above, he looks into the current time and closes it slowly. Nodding as he slips the watch back inside the pocket, he grabs his shoes and ties them on, rises from the ground, brushes his shirt and pants, fixes his hat and retrieves his coat top, hanging it loosely over his left shoulder. “As much as I love to stay, gots to get home, ‘fore the wife kills me,” he tells the lone tree, tipping the edge of his hat to it before heading east. He is heard humming a small tune as he heads for home, which is possibly no longer than two miles away.

Next installment; this features two main human characters, one gets into big trouble. Three curse words and Fourth Wall breakage. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
(xD) Enjoy.


O_O aka OH SNAP


{July 7; 4:28 PM}

{City Streets}

In a city filled with hustling businesses around every corner, buildings so high that they nearly became one with the sky, numerous areas smothered with humans and anthros alike, as well as smog-ridden vehicles, this particular day is to be a special day for some random person. Off a street next to escalating homes, there is a male human, bald at the top, wearing a blue denim jacket with a white dress shirt underneath and some black jeans, along with jade/black shoes. He is seen running away madly in the direction he is going, racing past the great numbers of people in his way. Behind him, there is a female woman with long, red hair, clothed in a yellow/black/white striped blouse, small white shorts and black, short-heeled shoes.

The chase continues toward an entrance of a large park, just before—
(The entire scenery comes to a standstill; another double of the male is seen on-screen.)

“Hold up!! Let me tell you ‘sup. See, you probably thinking that why, a good-lookin’ man like me, is running from a dame like her, right? Did you even, see, what the hell she has!? No!? Gahh…” (The male walks casually to the frozen woman, intentionally pointing to a large knife in her left hand and an angry look on her face. Male walks back to ‘his’ spot.)

“Now, ya get it?? Swear, she a crazy dame…! …Huh? Why is she chasin’ me?” (Male delivers a palm to his face.) “Jesus...all right. Here’s how it all began…”

{Yesterday; 2:43 AM}

The male is seen in a local club, partying to his heart’s content. Drinks are served endlessly at the counter where the bartender stood; women went to dance with their friends on the dance floor, as well as few lucky guys they locked eyes with; the music, ear-pounding to the point where deafness is a possibility. Conversations were struck, laughter was followed and new friendships were made, along with beginning relationships. The male is drunk beyond recognition and proceeds homeward bound, taking a bundle of cash with him. The clothes that he wears (which are seen tomorrow) reeks of the drinks he had and drunkenly strolls his way out, along with another pair of eyes that catch him leaving just as they wander off somewhere else.

{2:23 PM}

Somehow, the male had found his way back to his home in one piece, with the cash shown heavily in his right pocket. He is seen lying on his bed, with the sheets thrown out of balance, sleeping on his stomach, drooling. A snore emitted from him before the door burst wide open (the door was already left open, thanks to his carelessness) , a woman with determination creeps in the apartment room, looking for something. The male still sleeps while the woman continues her search. What is she looking for, and why did she pick this particular place? Soon, she hears the snoring and tip-toes her way towards where the noise is coming from. She finds a battered door, slightly open and peeks inside, finding the male with a large bulge in his right pocket. Hey eyes widen, her upper lip moves, showing the top row of her teeth. She swings the door open and wakes up the male, still dazed as he turns to look at her.

“Heey, lil’ early for that, don’t ya think??” he asks, following it with a small burp and chuckle. She immediately leaps on top of him, turns him around so that he lies on his back and yells:

“Where’s the money!?”

“Ooh, not so loud,” he answers, shutting his eyes from the sudden yell; a stinging force is felt on his left cheek and jerks back, waking up.

“Where’s? The money!” she yells again, balling her fists, ready to strike again.

Surprised and confused, the male leaps out of his bed and stands drunkenly to look at her: “What, money, baby?”

She lurches left arm around his neck and punches him in the stomach, nearly causing the male to puke. With little strength returning, the man shoves the woman away, causing her to crash and fall on top of his bed. Nearly fully awakened, he looks to the right, grabs his keys and heads out of his room, taking off for no apparent reason. He just, felt, like running. The woman recovers and heads straight into the kitchen, pulling drawers out and finding a large knife (to her liking, eek) in the second-to-last; she proceeds outward, chasing after the male. The male is seen hopping down the staircases; the female is seen near an elevator, pressing the “DOWN” button madly, until the doors open and she steps in, pushing for the first floor. The male makes it to the first floor and stops to rest at the very first stair.

“What in the hell is her problem!?” he thinks to himself, panting, hanging his head down for a quick moment. A small ting is heard and he looks to the elevator doors opening, with the woman, equipped with a knife, jumping out and finding him resting on one the staircases. “Aw, ****!!” he yells, taking off towards the entrance of the building with her right behind him. He finds that today is another busy day, with many people coming out and going into work which meant only one thing to him:

“If I don’t get past these people quick enough, my *** is dead!!” He looks back, finds the woman charging and dashes against the people-infested streets. Shoving people out of the way while panting at the same time, he hopes to use most of the people as obstacles to slow her down; he could still hear her shoes clicking as many of the people threw obscenities, completely ignoring that a woman is holding a knife, chasing someone down. Leaping over benches, swinging off of bars struck into the ground and rolling off of the people that stood in his way, he just could not shake her off his trail. He even took three subway stations in hopes of losing her. The third station worked, until he sneezed among the common crowd of people underground, giving his position away. And so, the chase continues for another hour or so, time shaving its minutes and seconds of the life spans that beat around it…

{Now}

“…and that’s it. Now if you’ll excuse me, still need to get away from this psycho **Bleep**.” (The male takes his position to where he originally was, before stopping everything, and prepares to run.)

“Cue chase scene!!!”

(Everything returns to normal and the chase still continues, the two disappearing into the large park…)

This new installment features my gun slinging husky, Boris, and a random gun slinging human rival, set inside a cathedral. Please enjoy and feel free to critque so that I will improve on my technique. Assistance is greatly appreciated.


Capsule Form

Whoosh! went the double-doors as they flew inward inside of a cathedral dedicated to the one of the eight saints of this world; a female with ravishing flame-red hair and a long white robe cast from the lone right shoulder sleeve to the tips of her toes. Her portrait lies untouched, untainted by anyone, hung above the ceiling as a constant watchwoman. Entering the cathedral is a black/dark-red furred, male Siberian husky, bearing a light-gray tactical vest and standard camouflage pants, a hunter-green beret sitting atop his head and a gray belt to hold his firearms which lay beside him in both sides. In his right hand lies a Kimber Rimfire Super pistol, with a small engraving of a wild fireball, scorching its way to the left; beside his sides lays two customized pitch-black submachine guns (with increased clip size) and to his back lays his crème de la crème: the M1870 Berdan II rifle. They all lay, in hopes of satisfying the user to their content.

Cautiously, the husky proceeds further into the cathedral, noting down the walls beside them, measuring how thick they were, how slick the ground is, the few numbers of polished wooden benches. Silver, no doubt, became the primary color of this holy sanctuary, yet there were hints of bronze, grey, green and gold. The husky’s brown eyes survey the area, just reaching the center of the cathedral; he stops to look around, finding out that the cathedral is, in fact, colossal in size. “Um, where is trouble??” asks the confused canine as he scratches his furry head with the left hand, sliding it behind his head. Doubt replaced the tension that filled his body and wondered if he had been tricked into coming here. Sighing as to nearly give up, he stares upward to the tall ceiling and notices the picture of the female saint; sliding his pistol to the right side of the belt, he grabs his beret and holds it against his chest, losing his concentration to the woman above.

His blackened boots stomp on the ground below as he makes his way towards a bench to rest, from being worked up for nothing. Gently, he sits on a bench, engraved with a number “3” on the sides, shifting into a more comfortable position as he sighs in relief. “Not my day,” grunts the canine as he shakes his head from side-to-side in disappointment, now looking to the ground, staring at a dim reflection of himself. Scoffing at the reflection, he brings his head up sharply, his ears listening in to a sound of a cough. Without hesitation, he retrieves his pistol and aims straight-forward, nothing in his path. Anxiety now seeped inside the husky, wondering if this is his imagination.

Over…heeereee….

His eyes shot to the right, hugging against the wall for safety reasons. Approaching the corner end, he takes a small peek to an old, wooden door with the classic round ring as the knob. He brings his head back to think and looks back to the door; it knocks twice. Putting him at unease, he brings his head back once more and comes face-to-face with an unknown poltergeist, giving him the “scary treatment”. Surprised, he unleashes two bullets at the ghostly figure, colliding to the wall on the left, nearly knocking down some candles. Recollecting himself, he arches out of the corner and tiptoes his way to the door to the right.

Over heeere. That’s it….

Clenching his left fist in anger and fear, he grips the pistol firmly and proceeds, not knowing that another firearm is set behind that door he is to open…


Gotcha. Boris heard the small voice and immediately rolled to the left, a shotgun blast tearing away a large, wide hole through the wooden door. A pale face can be seen inside; a male human with crimson eyes and a green Mohawk. The human kicks the door open and reveal his appearance as he wears a green leather jacket with a dark-brown undershirt and flame-red pants, wearing yellow/black shoes for comfort. Atop his right shoulder sits a sawn-off shotgun, a picture of a heart pierced by a cold blade emblazoned on the butt of the weapon. Boris growls and immediately pistol whips the human to the back of the head; taking damage, the human rolls forward and aims backward, letting two shells rocket to their prey. Boris just dodges by lying on the ground, firing his pistol to the human who then rises and runs to the corridor to the left. The human laughs maniacally as he heads to the wooden door in the left corridor, Boris behind as he too enters through the door.

Before entering the room fully, he receives a butt to the head from the sawn-off, knocked back a few centimeters before flying mid-air with an uppercut. Boris lands on his back and the sawn-off is planted on his face, the human boasting: “Come now, a mutt like you can do better.” Clicking once more, the human gives a kick to the husky’s right butt cheek; in reaction to the kick, he aims the pistol to the human’s left shoulder and fires, a bullet sent through the flesh, knocking the human back. Boris climbs to his feet and runs to the center of the cathedral and ends up with a skidded shotgun blast to the left shoulder. Trying to nurse himself from the stinging, he lies at the wall behind him, keeping his pistol ready in the right hand. The human then comes leaping from the corner, releasing shell after shell against the sitting canine, which then proceeds to rolling towards the benches for cover. Missing Boris’ feet, the shells collide with the small pillars holding jar, shattering into pieces as they fall to the cold ground below.

Aiming his pistol to the deranged human, he pulls the trigger and a small click emerges, the human focusing to where the noise came from, firing more shots to the benches. “C’mon out, ya **** canine!! Fight like a real man!!” More shots followed; the husky exhales and climbs to his feet, throwing the pistol to the human’s head, making perfect contact to his nose. “What the hell?!” he cries out, Boris reaching quickly for his SMG’s and firing first before the human would. The human rolls to the left and comes back with more shots from the sawn-off. The two continue the gun slinging game of cat-and-mouse until a certain shot aims to an edge of the ceiling portrait above. The two stand, aiming rifle-to-rifle, the husky’s SMG’s to the ground beside him, to their heads. They hear the crackling of the portrait and look upward, yelling as the entire artwork shatters to pieces. Rolling in opposite directions as each piece drop to the ground, a blinding light is shown above, Her voice emitting from it.


Those who disturb the sanctity of this holy sanctuary will be punished.

A violent rumbling occurs as the entire center of the cathedral begins to crumble. Rubble by rubble, large pieces of stone descend, putting the two in a state of panic. Immediately, the human dashes past Boris and heads for the door, stumbling his way out of the falling cathedral. Boris does the same, after retrieving his SMG’s, and heads to the exit, breathing at ease. He finds the human in a jeep, the horn blaring as he shouts: “Next time, mutt!! Hahahaha!!!” The human screeches off to the horizon, a heavy trail of smoke following right behind it. The husky tilts his head to the right and continues running as another violent rumble occurs. Nearby, he locates a motorcycle, coated in red and black and hops aboard, taking the keys out of his left pocket and inserting into the ignition. Throttling, he drives his way out of the area before further chaos commences.

“I need, good rest, good drink, good…something,” complains the husky as he leaves the premises, tired and hungry.

I am still waiting for the next man. ^_^ Your stories kicks, hold on i can't say that word. Now i shall sit back and wait for next instalment. You won't be worried about having to double post like crazy now. Hehe! :TailsSmile:

Heh, thanks DF. Here's next installment for ye all. This one features a poet and one of his pieces; also an attempt to brush up on lost poetry skills, heh. Please, enjoy.


Ring-Tailed Legend

Inside of a small azure home, just planted in the high mountain town of Green Acres, lives a young raccoon teenager who hopes to help the world see in another view through his talents as a poet. A small kitchen is seen, painted in beige, the sink half-full with dirty dishes and pots. Past that lays three other rooms set in left-to-right: master bedroom, bathroom, and a storage closet filled of useless junk and other necessities. Inside of the master bedroom is where the raccoon teenager currently is at, into his thinking phase. The room is dark, the blinds on the large window set above his bed is closed at the time. From the center of his bed, to the left lies his closet, full of clothes that suit the male’s style and personality; to the right is a large cabinet with pictures of him and various people, hanging out, having the time of their lives. There are two people constantly on each of the pictures, a male coyote, deemed to be the best friend, and a female vixen, deemed the good friend.

With few rays of sun beaming through the window’s defenses, ahead of the bed is a wide table and the raccoon, sitting on a black rotary chair, resting his head on his right palm that rest on the table. His brown fur can be seen, along with a black tank top and baggy, blue jeans. His green eyes half-asleep for not much action, suddenly he brings his hands up to rub his eyes, inhaling. Smacking his lips, he pulls a drawer open and looks inside to find a No. 2 pencil and about six sheets of clean white paper. Taking one sheet and the pencil, the raccoon decides to write down whatever came to mind. He turns on a small lamp beside him for better viewing.

I once knew a man
Who had formed a band.
In life, he had time
Given by the silent mime.
He practiced hour after hour
Anyone dared to challenge; devoured.
The greatest cat in history
Forever will remain a mystery
Until that one very day
That Fate came to play.
A young boy, full of folly
The day for him, quite jolly.
He saw the musician and glared
Struck by skill, rountines teared.
Wondering how the man acquired such skill
He asks Him the question:
“How’d you get to play so cool?”
This to friends, indeed he would mention.
“Years of practice”, he answers
This puzzles me
For how could this man play masterly
At the age of twenty-three?
“You look really old”, I tell him.
“Not as old as you think,” he replies.
He began to pack up and leave
Leaving me to go for tries.
“Teach me,” I yell, running to him.
“When you’re older, seek me out.
When you got the skills
And ready for a bout!”
In that instant he left
Never saw after that
So now I play to best him
To swing the bat
At age eleven.

A voice came from outside, beckoning for the raccoon to come out of the house. “Oi, Avery! C’mon out man! You’ll never believe what’s happening!!”
Quickly, he drops the pencil near the lamp, opens the closet door and throws on a huge, thick white jacket, slips on white socks and shoes and head for the door. The light shines on the words written on the lonely sheet, until he realized he left the light on. Running back, he yells, “Give me a minute!!” He shuts off the light and heads outside, wondering what the surprise could be.

Evenin'. Here's another installation which I'm proud of writing. I know it seems rushed, but oh well, maybe I'll do better with another one. I improvise (which isn't a big excuse, lulz), so bear with me. There's also a suave song that you listen to, which won't take place until after, when you see the sign.

Kiddies, you've been warned. There will be adult language, little of it, but nonetheless, THAR WILL BES TEH CURSING. Thank you.


Espionage (WARNING: Contains adult language)

{March 4; 1:17 AM}

“HasteTech Industries: a corporation that specializes in manufacturing high-performance chips, models, systems, the works in technology. Apparently, they have made more than $1.8 billion in the past year. In addition to that, reports say that there is something else that is helping them to reach to the top. Drug ring? Negotiations? Hidden weaponry codes inside of the technology? We do not know.”

{Meeting}

A long table with seventeen people beside each corner and side are found, debating about the problem previously mentioned. No one has decided who to deploy for such a critical mission.

“God**** it, do you know what will happen if it turns out the reports are wrong!!” a male orange-furred fox, wearing a brown business suit attire, a red tie tucked in front of the white undershirt, shouts.

“And what if they are right? We cannot sit here and do nothing about it!! The economy is at stake here!!” a female white-furred tigress responds to the fox, clothed in a gray business dress and gold pin to her bosom, exposing the lower portion of her thighs all the way down.

“Hah!! It was one of your operatives that accused the company for illegal smuggling in the first place!! Why should we believe if your reports are right!!” a male green-furred parrot, clothed in a yellow business suit attire and green tie, squawks in response to the tigress, slamming his feathery fists to the table’s body.

“A relative of mine received faulty parts from them! Installed them the next day, only to find the computer crashing! They’re up to something!!” the tigress retaliates, the debate only getting worse as the shouts fly back and forth.

“…Enough,” says a rising grizzly bear, clothed in a black business suit attire, his right hand held high. “All of this talking is doing nothing to solve the problem. So, I propose to send Agent Lilac on this mission.”

The boardroom fell under silence. “…You’re kidding, right?” mentioned a male Dalmatian, dressed in a bright blue business suit attire and a red tie. “I do not know what gave you the idea of sending her to HasteTech, but she isn’t qualified.”

“Say what you will. She shows promise, more than the other operatives and few of the elites.”

“She’s a human. You can never tell what a human can be up to these days.”

“Being prejudiced against humankind?” asked the grizzly to the spotted canine.

“I’m just saying,” the Dalmatian continues, holding his hands in mid-air, “send someone who went make us look bad. Please, sir.”

“…My mind has been made up.” Everyone remains quiet. “The others will have made it far within HasteTech, but will have suffered imprisonment. They do not have complete silence, like she, and the rest of our elites.”

“But she is reckless to a fault. How could we have taken in such a person?” the fox complains.

“So are the others, but she knows when not to be. They could learn from her. This meeting is adjourned.” The grizzly bear sets off into the other room, while the others become frustrated with the choice to send Agent Lilac in action. Sitting down in his office, he looks to the drawer, pulls it open and retrieves an earpiece to attach to the left ear. “Is the infiltration complete?”

{Rooftop of HasteTech Industries}

Beside a ventilation post lays a sleek figure coated in jet-black. To the waist are tools necessary for the mission, a flick of blonde hair is visible from the right portion of the mask, a pair of honey eyes viewable. The figure raises its hand to the left ear and calls to the earpiece: “Infiltration in progress. I’m on the rooftop.”

“Good. Godspeed, Agent Lilac. Do not disappoint me.”

(Play this at beginning mark or 2:07. Whichever you feel is more setting for the mood.)

“Mmm, I won’t, you hunk of a man.” Judging by the tone, it is female; soon, the sleek female unscrews the filter and slides inside the building via the shafts. Reaching the bottom, she looks for an appropriate spot to begin the job. She finds a vent leading to one of the sub hallways, perfect for a start with few guards in the way. Positioning herself properly, she reaches for the right side of her waist, retrieves a pistol with a clip of 18, 3 extra clips held in a small leathery pack and some first aid, for those certain moments. Looking down, a pair of badger guards come their way with rifles. She then waits until they are just underneath the shadow, then kicks down on this filter and throws her body weight downward, knocking the two out quickly. Calculating the fall’s height and her weight, they will wake no longer than six minutes. Immediately, she proceeds westward and encounters a lowly guard, next to the alarm system. The two match eyes and stare at the pull level.

The guard flies for the level, while the agent pulls the trigger, the sound echoing off the walls, but the bullet drilling through the guard’s chest, killing him. She sighs as it was too close and reaches in her pack to install a silencer on the pistol. Groaning is heard behind her and she turns around to find the guard reaching wearily for the level and pulls. She shoots the arm, but it was too late, the alarm system goes off and everyone is alerted. “God**** it,” she mutters to herself, listening in to her earpiece, running north. “Agent K. I’ve been spotted. Repeat, I’ve been spotted.”

“To think you would fall prey to them, is quite humorous,” the bear replies through the earpiece.

“Now isn’t the time,” she answers, gunfire heard through the earpiece, “which way to supply or one of their offices that holds plans?”

“Give me a moment,” K replies, Lilac recovering behind a corner wall, hearing fourteen rifle shots. On the fifteenth, she reaches in her pack and pulls out a small bag, placing it over her silencer; she then extends it and finds a hole through it. Rolling to her right, she fires two shots to the chest and stomach area, paralyzing before death set in. Recovering balance, she calls to her earpiece.

“What’s taking so long, K?” an annoyed tone comes from her as she hits an intersection.

“Take the path east from you, than head straight down and make a left. You’ll find their Shipping and Receiving down there.”

“Thanks,” she acknowledges, making her way to S&R. Her black suit makes it difficult to traverse through the white walls and red siren lights going off, but her agility makes it up for her. Soon, she reaches S&R, retrieves a small camera and kicks the door down. A railing is found, along with a rifle-holding guard that fires without hesitation. Luckily, she ducks and punches the guard in the stomach, before receiving an elbow to her back. Kneeling, the guard attempts for a rising knee, but Lilac catches it in time and hurls him off the railing, looking downward to find illegal smuggling taking place. “Hoo-hooo boy! Look at what we’ve got here!” With the camera in one hand and her pistol in the other, she makes a valiant dash along the railing, snapping photos of current events.

Wave after wave of guards came pouring in to her location and she was done to her final clip, eight bullets already fired. Slipping the camera away, she finds a breakable window ahead and attempts to escape. Two bullets pierce through the edges of her mask, tearing it off and falling to the ground below. Her face was revealed; peach-coloured tone with striking blonde hair and her honey eyes looking back at the guards, some stunned and some just ready to kill on sight. “Love to stay longer, but you know how things go,” she tells them as she crashes through the window, a barrage of bullets chasing after her. Slipping her pistol away after removing her arms from her face for protection, she takes out a slider cloth and holds it with both hands as she is airborne. It catches on a set wire and begins to slide downward to a moving helicopter. More gunfire commences, attempting to knock her off, but she flies inside of the helicopter, urging the pilot to “haul ***”. Taking off, she hears voices from the window:

“****, we missed.”

“Did it ever occur, to any of you retards, to shoot off the ******* wire!?”

…and laughs. “K, mission’s a success,” she calls over to her earpiece.

“Ah, wonderful, Lilac. It’ll give me a better reason to gloat to those lowly *******s.”

“Hm, don’t think of me as your lucky charm now,” she responds in a jokingly way.

“Heh, I won’t. K out.” The helicopter flies off in the distance and the woman in black is to be seen no more.

Man, I havent been on here lately...sorry about that. I'm definetly liking these latest additions! I was glued to the sceen the whole time. You know how to tell a story and make it interesting! Awesome as usual! Just out of curiousity, would u ever consider having the characters drawn? And BTW, is there more to the "Ring-Tailed" story?

Thanks, heh. It would be awesome to have my characters drawn, since I'm not an artist myself, xD. My art lies in the words I write, but I try to get their personalities right and such.

There is more after "Ring-Tailed Legend", but that won't come until a long while. I still have more coming up, so it'll be a while. Might do some Double Features to speed things up, heh.

I would do it if i were better at furries, but I've never tried either. I know what you mean though. I write much better and easier than i draw.

cant wait to see the next part!

GUESS WHAT? ISH DOUBLE FEATURE TIMES. BOTH CONTAIN MATURE CONTENT, SO DON'T READ IF YOU'RE GOING TO COMPLAIN TO ME THAT IT'S TOO BLOODY AND STUFF. REMEMBER, YOU READ THEM.

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New installment. This one's going to get real bloody, so if you don't like the sight of teeth piercing through warm fur/flesh, I suggest you avert your eyes now.
(This starts immediately as you begin reading.)


Wrath of Berserker

Bang! Bang! Bang! went the poorly cracked, bronze-stone walls of a lower mining site, said to be near the earth’s core. Within a few seconds, it crumbles entirely, spitting a couple to a wide, circular platform below, surrounded by liquid, hot magma below. A male cheetah with a small, orange ponytail, olive vest, baggy tan shorts and black/white sneakers lies beside a female cheetah, dressed in a dirty red blouse, blue jeans, short-heeled black shoes, her flowing orchid hair scattered about from the fall.

The male helps the female to her feet and the two look towards the open hole, a bloody, black-scaled claw appearing, following after it the face of a deranged komodo dragon, the right eye completely torn from its socket. It growls, along with two other deranged reptiles behind it: a green-scaled raptor and a gold-scaled lizard, all clothed in badly torn blackened rags. Snarling, they each leap from the hole and land on the platform, glaring their hungry eyes to both fatigued felines. Immediately, the three charge and the two cheetahs prepare for combat.

The komodo dragon lashes a diagonal slash for the male cheetah’s right side, which he dodges and executes a quick elbow to the komodo’s head, knocking it back slightly. The raptor and lizard leap insanely for the female cheetah; she acts quickly and precisely by rolling forward as the two fly above her, skidding to a halt and rushing towards her once more. “Anna!!” screams the male cheetah to warn her, horror in her eyes as she does the same for him.

“John!! Behind you!!” It was too late; the komodo acts swiftly and chomps on John’s right shoulder, the teeth piercing the fur and muscle tissue. Shouting in agony, John raises his left arm weakly and elbows the komodo in the stomach and head portions, but to his failure, the komodo still keeps its grip on the male cheetah’s shoulder. Furious as she watches him fend off the komodo, she leaps upward, forces herself backwards and extends one of her shoes forward, heel first, into the empty socket of the komodo, roaring furiously as the blow connected, releasing its teeth from John’s shoulders. He places his left hand over the open wound, which bleeds crazily, and eyes the raptor and lizard, while Anna fends off the komodo, weakened slightly from the vicious blow. A surge of hatred welds within him and charges after the deranged reptilian duo, dealing a vicious drop kick to both of the two, knocking them back greatly. The reptilian duo scrambles to their clawed feet and charge once more, their mouths gaping with saliva and hot breath.

As John climbs to his feet, he finds that Anna has been grabbed by the komodo and is hurled to the western section of the platform, slipping off the edge and holding on for her life. “Aahh!!” she screams in fear, her upper strength beginning to fail as the heat from below seeps inside her. Ignoring the offensive tactic, John immediately rushes to Anna’s aid and pours all of his strength to his legs, his heart thumping repeatedly with each step. Just as he reaches her location near the edge, he is tackles by both reptiles and struggles to fend them off, receiving bites and slashes to the forearm and shoulder areas. The komodo charges for Anna, claws fully extended, and prepares to send her to her death; luckily for her, she heard its every step, waited for the right moment and quickly snatches its right foot with her left hand, pulling as strong as she could, the komodo falling to the magma. Quickly, she snatches for the edge and continues to hold on, feeling heavier than usual. Looking down to check the problem, she finds the komodo clawing at her calves to escape the fiery death below. Her screams add intensity to the pinned-down John.

With a mighty roar that echoed off the chasm around the five, he shoves both the lizard and raptor off them, executes a strong hook to their necks and boots them away, buying himself time to save Anna before it was too late. Sliding on his rear, gliding across the platform, he shifts his body so his head would be ahead and extends an arm to grabs for Anna’s hand. She looks down and starts kicking the komodo to relive herself of the extra weight, yet the komodo would not give up easily and instead bit into her left leg, her shouts penetrating John’s eardrums as he frantically tries to pull her up. Wincing, Anna looks to the komodo carefully and finds that its eye socket is exposed once more, on the verge of tearing a hole through it from last time she struck it. Lifting her right leg carefully, grinding her teeth as the komodo’s teeth pierced her leg, she kicks at its chin, right face cheek and finally through its eye socket. The komodo roars as it releases itself from Anna’s leg, plunging into the magma below, her shoe accompanying it.

John pulls the wounded Anna up and the two rest for a short time before rising to their feet and finding the reptilian duo after them again. Madly furious, John bares his fangs and charges for the raptor, the two engaging in a perilous deadlock, snapping fangs at each other, snarling. Anna, with her wounded leg, watches the lizard’s movements and prepares to throw it off the chasm to join its brethren. As the lizard brings its left claw back, Anna steps forward, crouches, and grabs at its midsection, using whatever strength she could muster and throws it overhead towards the edge of the western portion of the platform, slashing at her left shoulder area as it plummets. Quickly, it grabs to the edge and begins to pull itself up, yet she takes action, removes her other shoe and hacks the heel portion of the shoe to the lizard’s head, trying to knock it off. It slashes at her left ankle, dealing more damage to her left leg; stumbling back with her teeth grinding, her right arm gathers quick strength, takes hold of the shoe and strikes downward, piercing through the lizard’s skull. There it began to give up some strength and it too plummeted to death along with the komodo.

Falling down to rest after dealing with the lizard, Anna pants heavily and tends to her leg, ripping off pieces of her jeans and wrapping around the open areas. With John and the raptor still in the deadlock, the raptor lunges for a bite to the open shoulder wound; John dodges it by leaning back and twists the right arm. With an immense amount of strength surging through him, John pushes the raptor back, still holding on to it, and bites for its right shoulder, the fangs not sharp enough to pierce the scales. Using its foot claws to tear at his shorts, John manages to pierce through the scaly defense, grabs a mouthful and pulls back a small scale from the raptor, its cries satisfying the cheetah. Spitting out the scale, he drives his fangs inside of the tissue of the raptor and bites down hard, the raptor losing the deadlock and stumbling back. Unsheathing his own claws, John drives them into the open wound, pulls it out, strikes the raptor’s chest via palm strike, kicks the raptor’s stomach area and gives a fatal boot to its face, colliding with the nose portion, sending the bone through the tip of its brain. Ceasing in its actions, the raptor falls backward and remains motionless, leaving both cheetahs to recover lost strength slowly.

Anna brings herself towards John and clings to his battered body, the two staring at the unconscious raptor, its gaping mouth, somehow, putting their minds at ease. The two pant heavily, looking to each other, then at the hole above...

(Heh, you notice that little cliffhanger there, huh? Reason for that is that I'm giving two separate endings for this tale. If you want the Good, Bad, or both, just PM me or comment here for them. Thanks and adios.)

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This features Thorn and a demon he meets for the first time, later in the years, becoming an ally to him. Of course, first impressions are important, right? Right?

Anyway, watch Thorn to see what happens to him. After the demon begins to disrobe itself from the cloak, immediately start playing this.

Enjoy this hellish installment. [/evil laughter]


Showdown from Below/Demon's Eye

{Hell, Time and Date Unknown}

“…Whoa,” a male slurs as he opens his eyes to find darkened colors around him. His vision blurry and head throbbing, the male tries to stand up but fall shortly after. “Gah, **** it,” he winces as he tries again, this time succeeding. Staggering once standing fully, his vision records violent fire roaring upwards, jagged stalagmites worn from centuries of heat decay, the stench of rotting corpses tingling in the atmosphere; the heart would also explain the sweat watering down the human’s head, weak from the heat. Immediately, he unbuttons his black jacket and exposes a white muscle shirt, already stained from the perspiration. His ¾ navy shorts, held together by a black leather belt, flow by the steady, warm breeze blowing against him, his tiny white socks tucked inside charcoal/green shoes.

“Where…? Where am I?” he finally spits out, looking below to find a wide, brown stone platform. Looking upward, he finds another figure, a rather taller figure. “Hey. Hey, you don’t know where we’re at?” The figure turns around and reveals its identity: it wears a large tan cloak on its body but the face reveals itself as a face of a demon. Instinctively, the human steps back in shock, gulping.

“Good evening, child of the Thorn bloodline.” The demon’s voice, incredibly heavy, puts the meeker human in surprise by its tone.

“Uhh…hey. Look, I’m not looking for any bones to pick, I just want ta—“ Before he could have a chance to speak, the demon advances towards Thorn, who is seen taking another step back as the demon comes closer.

“Ah. What a privilege to meet a man of your caliber.”

Already two feet away from Thorn, he responds weakly: “…Thank…ss?”

“It will also be a privilege to test your strength in combat.” A wily grin spreads across the demon’s face, creeping the human out.

“…I-I’m sorry?” he responds, the sweat levels increasing to the point where his muscle shirt is drenched in fear.

“Of course, if you do lose and disappoint me, then you’ll be an excellent addition of the souls I’ve taken.” The demon clenches both claws and chuckles at the thought of adding this omnipotent soul to its collection.
Thorn does the same and stands his ground, taking a few steps back to gain distance. “Listen, dammit! I’m not letting some demon, claim my soul to use for your own liking! I’m getting out of this hellhole, one way or another!”

“Perhaps, a little wager?” Thorn stops to listen; he knew that the demon will be lying, but if it will benefit him, then no other choice was to be made. “If you win, I’ll help you back to your little world in between.”

“Sounds reasonable. If you win?” Thorn asks, failing to hear about what would happen if he lost when the demon first told him of it.

“Then you, belong, to me.” The flames around the two rocket viciously skyward, sensing that a battle will begin soon. “Do not disappoint me,” the demon concluded, the temperature rising at an excruciating level, bringing the human to limp forward from the extreme heat, panting. Spirits howl around them, lowering Thorn’s morale while raising the demon’s. The human grits his teeth and stares angrily towards the demon, while it gives a hearty laugh and grabs its cloak with the left claw, hurling it to hang on one of the stalagmites.

The demon’s body stained in bright-red, the pupils coated in silver, bare; its tail slender while the horns are nowhere to be seen. It brings its right leg upward and stomps the platform, the foundations below it crumbling. It roars demonically, Thorn’s heart rate skyrocketing. Sighing a few times before settling down, he advances towards the naked demon and converts to one of his forms while advancing. While the process takes time, the human leaps towards the demon and executes a hammer fist; stepping to the left, the demon lashes its tail to Thorn’s neck and grabs it, hurling him to the opposite side of the platform. Ukeming off the platform ground by hand standing, Thorn growls loudly and successfully converts over to his Dragon form. Jade scales replace the flesh, his muscle shirt torn from the chest and shorts now become loose-leaf pants, in the color black. He turns around and shows off his own claws to the demon, who in return stares at him.

“I can see why they call you, Sly,” it laughs as the two lunge towards each other, fully engaging in brutal combat. Thorn, now a dragon, thrusts his right claw to the demon’s breast area which does nothing to scar or dent it. Mid-attack, it grabs the arm, pulls its head back and unleashes a head butt to Thorn’s scaly head, knocking him back, stunned. It laughs at his attempt for a first attack and lunges forward, executing a back kick to Thorn’s stomach, causing the dragon to roll backwards and land on his stomach. “You’re disappointing me,” the demon boasted, the dragon becoming more furious as he stands on his own two scaly feet. Panting, Thorn rushes forward and attempts at another thrust with his claw; the demon’s agility proved to be a challenge as it dodges with ease, swinging for a backhand. Thorn performs a fakie and ducks underneath the swinging backhand, tackling the demon and dropping him by grabbing at its legs.

The demon falls on its back and Thorn readies another hammer fist to drop on to it; instinctively, the demon punches at Sly’s left side and heaves the dragon off of it, both getting up to continue the brawl. This time, the demon takes on a more offensive role and swings countless hooks to Sly’s head, stunning him once more, saliva flying out from the sides of his mouth. Hearing his own heartbeat slowing, the demon pulls back and rockets forward with a strong shoulder tackle, sending the dragon rolling on the platform once again.

The heat is getting to you?

No. ****.

Barely bringing himself up to his knees, the demon falls from the sky, attempting to elbow through the platform. Grinning weakly, the dragon clenches his twitching fists and connects with the demon’s stomach area. Shouting to the top of his lungs, he deals blow-after-blow to its stomach, keeping it in mid-air, going closer towards the edge. “…Hahaha!! Thought you were tryin’ to be slick, eh!?” proudly shouts Sly as he begins to feel his strength returning to him.

“…I still am.” These words threw Thorn off-guard; as the demon falls after the dragon ceases his commands, he executes a swift drop kick to his chest, sending him off the platform and airborne. His eyes widen in terror, Thorn could hears the screams of those experiencing agony, adding his own yells to the lively festival. More flames shoot powerfully, increasing the temperature more to the point where Sly’s entire body shakes. In the distance below him lays another platform, larger than the one above but with fewer stalagmites. Breathing fast, Thorn holds his own breath and prepares to endure the impact; his body collides to the ground, his shoulder blades suffering as well as his lower back, and bounces a few times before landing on his back to rest from the extreme pain he has endured.

“…Aahh!! Son of a, **Bleep**!!!” he cries out, panting heavily as he tries to bring himself up to his feet to continue the fight, already finding the demon flying through the air to reach him. Petrified, he crawls back, trying to gain as much distance as possible before it reaches this location. Feeling a tiny amount of strength, Sly tries to use that amount to bring him to his knees, at least, and finds the demon just steps away from him. Gulping, he stands with his back hunched over, snarling at the demon as it hums. Before saying another word, Sly roars and wails away with numerous punches and jabs to its chest area; he rests his left claw on the demon’s bare chest, the demon looking down to him, showing no expression.

“Are you finished??” it asks pitifully, a few sighs escaping the dragon answering the question. “Fair enough,” it says, sweeping Thorn in quick succession, forcing him to fly a short height in mid-air; following the sweep was a frontal kick to the stomach, forcing Sly to cough blood from his mouth as he rolls for the third time and stops on his back. Sweat doing some work to cool him off; tears began to well up in his eyes from the pain, holding his stomach. The flames begin to multiply as the demon charges in ferocity, leaping upward and striking its claw towards Thorn’s throat. Doing nothing to prevent it, the dragon lies there to accept his fate and shuts his eyes, the velocity of the flames thundering all around him.

Quickly opening an eye, he finds that the demon’s claw tips barely tap the scaly throat and looks up to the demon’s face to find an empty expression turned into hearty laughter. Gulping, the force of it sends fear through to the demon’s tips and processes it through its mind, laughing even harder. Sly could do nothing, but to return a confused staring.

“Hahahaha!!! You can take a hell of a beating, mortal!!!” The demon withdraws its claws and stares to the weakened dragon, soon converting into a human again.

“…So, so I, uh, lost, huh?” he responds weakly, coughing.

“You did, but at least you shown me promise. For this, you return back to the world between.” The demon presses against a portion of the platform, a vortex appearing, sucking the human inside of it.

“What the--!?” Sly responds, already trying to crawl away from the swirling vortex.

“The next time we meet, do not disappoint me again, or I’ll really show you true hell!! Hahahaha!!” The demon walks away, its job done for the moment; as for Thorn, his body is sucked inside of the vortex, hollering as he rides downward. Soon, he returns back to the world in between, exiting Hell…

…for now.