MTG Cardsmith Community Forums
Anyone mind short stories?
Recently, I wrote a short story for the whole Renaissance set project, and now I've been in a writing mood, and would like to upload my short stories. Since this is the only forum I consistently use, does anyone have objections to me uploading them in this discussion as I write them? It would be worthwhile to note that not necessarily all of the would be Magic related.
Of course, anyone else who would like to write a short story, feel free!
Of course, anyone else who would like to write a short story, feel free!
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The laboratory was dark, spare for a flickering computer screen casting a unhealthy blue glow across the explosion-scarred steel table. Cracked aether-canisters lay discarded in puddles of viscus vitae, glinting in the sputtering light. Pipes and power coils covering the walls lay dormant in their current disuse. An empty recliner, covered not in leather but goblin flesh, sat empty before the computer. The battered remains of tiny automatons littered the table. A small spindly arm, a masterpiece of metal and ingenuity, tried to pick itself up off the table, but only succeeded in causing it to tumble off the edge.
"My lord?"
The chair swiveled to the right to face a small homuniculi cowering next to an open door, its bloodshot eye dilated in fear.
"Yes, Fblthp?" echoed the chair...or echoed whatever sitting unseen in the chair.
"You...have been distant lately" said Fblthp.
"My lord."
"Yes, my lord" Fblthp squeaked. "What has so occupied your exalted attention, my lord?"
"Come" said the invisible presence.
The tiny homuniculi climbed up the PVC ladder attached to the desk and peered at the screen of the computer. Shining faintly back was the MTGCardsmith Forums page, spotted with obnoxious ads, yellow indicators of new comments occasionally flashing up.
"I don't see what is wrong" Fblthp said, hastily adding "...my lord."
"Look" said the presence. A twisted metal hand encrusted with porcelain and covered with a sheen of black bubbling oil materialized around the computer mouse and moved it to click a discussion labeled ANYONE MIND SHORT STORIES?
Flbthp's large black pupil reflected back the white and red discussion page as he stared at the computer screen. Finally, he looked at the chair. "I don't see what is wrong, my lord!"
"You won't understand" the presence rumbled. "This...@Lujikul...is threatening to destroy the moral integrity of MTGCardsmith! He dares to introduce creativity, original ideas, and other awful concepts to this beloved forum! He will be the end of all us cardsmiths!"
"Have you said anything yet, my lord?'
The hand pointed at the LEAVE A COMMENT text box, which was overflowing with obscenities and slurs such as "smart person" and "thinking outside the box"
"The mortal @Lujikul will pay for his daring motives!" the presence boomed. "Trying to express his creative talents without knowi-"
"Like you do...?" Flbthp interrupted.
The phyrexianized hand froze while waving in the air and jabbing at the computer screen. There was a deathly silence.
"...My lord?" finished Flbthp with a squeak.
The presence did not respond. For one dreadful moment, Flbthp thought he would be reduced to ashes with a Mizzium Mortar.
"That's true" said the presence finally. "I actually hadn't thought of that."
"Will I be reduced to ashes with a Mizzium Mortar, my lord?" Flbthp said.
"No, no" the presence said. The hand waved at Flbthp dismissively. "I just forgot. Thank you though for your assistance."
Flbthp's tiny inhuman heart swelled with pride as he bounded down the PVC ladder and out of the room. The phyrexianized hand hung in the air for a moment, then drifted towards the keyboard stained with phyrexian oil.
"I might just tell @Lujikul that..." said the presence wistfully.
The hand began typing:
This is from Gelectrode:
-MagicChess, loyal fan of The Claymaker
I think that it would be great to make this a thread where anyone can post their own short stories, because I fervently believe that the Cardsmith community is chock full of creativity and brimming with talent.
~Tales of the Planeswalkers~
-----=-----
I. Prologue
-----=-----
'This whole planeswalking business still feels so damn crappy. Well, at least I can go anywhere wherever I want beyond any boundaries of a universe.' Thought a skeleton that wore a grey, loose hoodie with a white shirt and a baggy jeans along with a pair of boots. From the sound of this skeleton's mind, or what was left of it, people around it could recognize that this skeleton is a male person.
Illuminated by a silvery moon that was hung high in the night sky, the skeleton proceeded to walk around the place he had recently planeswalked away.
'That must be a sealing spell or whatever it is.'
Thought him while gazing at a large, glowing magical mark that decorated the moon of that world.
'Wait, the hell just happened here?' From his point of view, he could see ruined remains of stony buildings that resembled like some sort of an european horror castle if it was a fully intact building.
Inside those rubble walls, he saw messily placed sculptures that accurately resembled like human beings.
'....Damn, those people are truly stoned.'
Not wanted to ponder about the state of that place, he just decided to continue his pace in quest for searching something that could awake his interest.
Minutes passed, and he could see nobody other than himself in sight.
'Hey, who's that?' Far above the ground, he could see a towering uncanny stone structure that stood taller from the rest, and he saw a body sticking out from its surface, a fleshy body.
Then he teleported himself in a blue flash in the mid air, in front of that body.
Using a levitation spell, a blue-oriented spell he learned long ago to pass away unpassable terrains, he continued to observe that body to check that that person was still alive or not.
"P..please.." Pleaded the person in his almost dying state, head hung low. His long and messy white hair covered his pale grey face and his shining yellow pupils that surrounded by black scleras. Aside from that, he wore a set of silvery armor with a large coat although the half of his body is covered in rock.
"Whoa, hold up pal." Told the skeleton to the person that stuck in that rock telephatically. 'Damn, he seems like one of those vampires. Probably he's also one of them. Ah, whatever.'
Using his knowledge of teleportation, the floating skeleton stretched his bony arm and touched the body of that stone-encased person. Eyesockets still glowing with blue magic, a circular ripple then appeared at the skeleton's back, then it finally enveloped him and a chunk of the stone where the person is trapped.
On the ground below, both people reappeared again in a blue flash.
"Blood..." Muttered the person who was currently being stuck in the rock with a weak tone.
"Wait here, well actually, ah nevermind. Hold up a little bit more pal." In a blue flash, he teleported away to the forest far away from his position.
'Yup, he's a vampire.' Thought him. After a numerous attempts he quick-teleported himself, he finally found it. A grey furred wolf.
It snarled to the skeleton. And suddenly get pierced by a number of bones that bursted out from the ground.
Without second thought he picked the dead body of the wolf and teleported back to the position of the person who was currently being encased in stone. And threw away the dead wolf's body.
"Hey, you still there?"
The skeleton only greeted by the howling wind.
He just took the wolf's body and dripped a small amount of blood in the stoned person's mouth.
'Crap.' He thought.
"M..more.." Pleaded the vampire again.
'Hmmph, why the heck am I doing this anyway.' He sighed.
"Alright, I think I have a method of how to freed you pal."
The skeleton then reached for something inside his hoodie. A silver pendant that shaped like a miniature obelisk then appeared in his bony arm.
"Okay, stand still then. Erm, not if you can move but, nevermind."
The pendant hovered in mid air, his eyesockets glowed with purple light. Then he stretched his free arm to the dying vampire.
And pulled out his soul from his body.
'Now get inside the pendant.'
Forcing his will, the skeleton gripped the soul with his necromantic magic, and with a shining light that came out from the pendant, the process was finally finished.
'Can you hear me?' He projected his thought to the pendant.
'W-what have you done? Where am I?' Whispered the trapped soul via telepathy to the skeleton.
'Don't be afraid. In the meantime, I'll find a way how to repair your body.'
'This feels like, the Helvault... how do you know about that kind of spell?'
'The what now? Well, I wasn't always idle in my free time. I learned lots of spells here and there from some good friends of mine. Nevermind. Gonna bring your body then.'
'I can still communicate to you, how is it possible?'
'Well, I can't really explain it, but for now, let's just leave this godforsaken place. Think those stoned people start to creep me out a bit.'
'...Well then, do I get the honor to know the name of my savior?'
'Sans. You can call me Sans because my real name is weird.'
The space around him rippled with blue light, both the skeleton and the dead vampire's body then vanished in the cold night air of what was left from the Markov Manor.
OOC: Just a little story of mine.
Orinthene blinked, trying to clear her vision; it didn't help. The blurriness had nothing to do with her eyesight, rather, it was due to the heavy rain on the window pane through which she now squinted. "Torches?" she thought, "Could those little faint red glows out there be torches?" As she lived on the border of Avabruck, strange sounds and sights weren't really foreign, more intriguing then anything else. As the bright spots vanished from view, either because they were too far away or because the rain had swelled to a downpour, Orinthene decided she better turn in for the night.
Orinthene was fourteen years old and lived alone in a small run down cottage, what many would call a hut. Not much to look at from outside or in. Her parents were loving wonderful teachers and guardians that had been... misplaced, somehow. Orinthene had carried on alone with a touch of grief and a longing to know just what had befallen her beloved father and mother.
She awoke with a start only a few hours later to the sound of howls. "Mondronen" she surmised. Living this close to Avabruck meant that Orinthene knew enough that she wasn't easily startled or surprised. She drifted off to sleep.
-YEARS PASS-
Orinthene's discovered that she can planeswalk. During the werewolf attack after the wards around Avabruck's central cathedral, the Temple of Saint Raban, failed. She returned to Innistrad shortly after. She doesn't wish to be anywhere else, she'd begun to archive. Her hut had become a storehouse of documents and research. Mostly in an effort to determine the fate of her parents, she'd now delved into the mysteries of every race on the plane and documented her findings. She's recently learned of Arlinn Kord, she'd witnessed Avacyn cursemuting or killing hundreds of werewolves, and knows of the angel's church launching a new inquisition more terrifying than anything they've done before against the lycanthropes. Not much of it matters as long as she's left to continue her vigil and learn the full extent of what there is to be learned on Innistrad.
Orinthene's sole goal is to be left alone and undisturbed. She has no desire to assist the coming Gatewatch or engage in the struggle of the native races. Her inherent powers are few, but empower her to keep her archive safe an obscured while simultaneously allowing her to go places others cannot as she collects little known facts.
(Sorry for any mistakes I may have made. I know almost nothing of MTG lore, I just scabbed pieces off of wiki and MTG stories.)
( Check it out: http://forums.mtgcardsmith.com/discussion/comment/72115/#Comment_72115 )
Nimraid wasn't a very unique child, nor did he stand out for... well, for any reason at all. Relative to the others that returned to Hollowhenge he was perfectly average. As he matured it became quite obvious that he was an exceptional hunter, exceptional everywhere but Hallowhenge that is. All those that returned there are reasonably exceptional hunters.
One thing that did set him apart, in some aspects, was his born lycanthropy. But there were quite a few lycanthropes in Hollowhenge, though most were unknown to each other. He never recalled his incidents which took place in wolf form but he knew they had happened, the ripped clothes and bloodied maw were enough to signify the transformation.
As Nimraid reached his hundredth season a change began to come over him, he could feel a creeping desire to change his eating habits and hunting tactics accompanied by a general sense of discomfort.
(Let us accompany Nimraid, now of one hundred and twenty seasons age, on a hunt.)
Nimraid crept silently through the dense growth which now filled the circular henge of dilapidated structures, all that was left of the once proud Avabruck. He was only a single member of a hunting party consisting of well over twenty individuals. In spite of the fact that he'd always been told staying near the others on a hunt was safest, Nimraid ventured off on his own. He spotted a small deer in front of him and fell on all fours, half crawling towards his would be prey, keeping as noiseless as the leaves and branches comprising the forest floor would allow. As he neared the doe Nimraid felt a sudden urge to sink his teeth into the unsuspecting prey's throat, under this impulse he chose to become a wolf--over his last few seasons, Nimraid found himself succumbing to these urges and had been able to willingly transform into a beast, though he still could not return to his human visage at will. By inducing this change he had devoured multiple kills which he should have brought back with him. Nimraid always found himself "human" again not long after eating every bit of flesh from his kill. But despite this dilemma he couldn't resist the overwhelming desire to take a kill as would a ravenous animal... between his powerful jaws--and pounced on the doe. It's neck in his mouth, Nimraid snapped its spine with a quick wrench and began to consume it. The sound of a snarling brute rending a carcass could be heard by a few members of the hunting party. As they neared the clamor, its ferocity unnerved them and fear took them. They fired multiple arrows in the direction of the sound and ran off to find additional hunters.
"Uhnn..." Nimraid heard his half-human voice murmur. Seconds after he was completely human once again. Searing pain in his right shoulder made him shudder. His left hand reached up and felt three shafts protruding from his skin, now bare as his shirt had been torn off completely by taking the werewolf form. Blood was spattered on him from the half eaten doe next to him and more was dripping from his mouth. Looking about, eyes full of rage, Nimraid couldn't wait to end the life of whatever shot him using either his boar spear or sword.
( There was a lot more thought out, but I never got around to writing it: http://forums.mtgcardsmith.com/discussion/comment/49958/#Comment_49958 )