Post by ZaCloud on Feb 16, 2006 1:37:47 GMT -5
Every step by a different foot...
Not sure how successful this'll be, but I figured what the heck. This is a multi-author thread, where a story is started and then someone else can continue it. It can go in any directions imagineable, so long as it's kept around PG-13 or so, and nobody cops out with a "Suddenly everyone dies and are replaced by such and such" or anything like that. If you're gonna kill characters, give it meaning, and don't let it be more than one at a time.
While crazy ones can be fun, we can maybe start another for that purpose. For this particular one, let's keep things fairly serious. We can each add twists, characters and traits, and see just where it decides to go.
Note: So that nobody is caught in the dillemma of having written something cool, then posting and finding that someone else had posted around the same time... We'll use the Dibbs System: If you feel confident you will be able to type something up very soon, put in a post that simply says "Dibbs" or something to that effect, then come in and edit it. People can line up if they wish.
And that's it! Have fun if you choose to participate.
Chapter 1: A Day on East Ground
"Jason, dammit, you're gonna kill yourself one o' these days!"
The lanky 16 year-old, a shoulder-length brunette in a white tanktop and torn jeans, ran a hand through his wavy locks and laughed. "You're not my mom, Rich. Admit it, it was a kickass move!"
Richard, a short boy of close age with a green spiky mohawk on his head and wearing a black robe trimmed with red flames on all hems, sighed in defeat and rolled his red eyes. "Alright, it kicked ass, but if you keep tree-leaping from that high you're bound to break somethin' eventually."
"Well I haven't yet," Jason said with a smirk and a wink of one of his violet eyes, "Besides, I'd just as likely die from a showering accident. Don't you shower? Or is that why you're hiding under that security blanket?"
"It's not a blanket," Richard grumbled, tugging a bit at the sleeve, "You know us Macros have to keep our markings outta the sun but still have access to them."
"Yeah, yeah, stinky."
Richard narrowed his eyes. "I shower, ok?"
"Keep your security blanket with you?"
"Shut up!" Richard took a swipe at Jason, who danced back with laughter. Jason darted forward and shoved his friend playfully, and they soon were engaged in a wrestling match. Richard could have easily overpowered Jason, but kept his powers in check.
"Don't fight!" a plaintive voice protested from a distance.
The boys looked up from their respective headlocker and headlockee positions and saw a honey-blonde, gold-eyed girl of 14 running toward them, her pink robe fluttering busily behind her.
They let go of each other, sighing and smiling. Jason waved to her, "Oh Tasha, you worry too much, we're just messin' around."
She came to a stop, pouting, arms crossed. "Can't you boys ever 'mess around' without being all aggressive? It worries me."
"Boys will be boys," Jason said with a shrug, "It can't be helped."
"And they call me uptight," Richard sighed, patting the girl on the head, "Just calm down and stop worrying about us, you know me an' Jason are friends." Besides, he thought, You'd have had an aneurism seeing Jason jumping through the trees like he was!
"I'll kick you for your recklessness later, Selfrun Jason," a rough male voice said. All three of them jumped in surprise as a fourth figure shimmered into place among them. The 35 year old Groundmaster stood with his strong arms crossed, in a black jacket and dark jeans. Seemingly permanent stubble laced his ever-scowling mouth, and his bright blue eyes were piercing below his spiky head of black hair. On his forehead was a black symbol resembling a diagonal whisp of grain, always showing because it was always in use. "Right now, all Selfruns are to report to the Grounds HQ for Juvenile Input on proposed school laws."
Jason rolled his eyes. "Boooooring," he sighed, "C'mon, Mike, you know I don't care about that kinda stuff, I go to school anyway. An' how come the Macros don't hafta do this?"
"You will call me Groundmaster Michael," the man said for probably the three-hundredth time, "And Macros have their own meetings at their own schools."
"Well I've got somethin' to propose," Jason said with his eyes a bit narrowed, "Oh yessir I do. That we all go to the same schools, cuz this separation shit bites."
"That wouldn't work, Jay," Richard pointed out, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder, "We spend so much time honing our powers we wouldn't get the same classes most of the time anyway."
Jason sighed. "Ahh well. Fine, stupid meeting here I come." He waved to Richard and Tasha, and headed off with a jaunty pace, whistling a tune.
Groundmaster Michael looked at the two Macros. "Firun Richard and Waterun Tasha, right? Don't forget your Ground duties. And no, no trading them again; they're assigned to you for a reason, most likely because you don't like them." He smirked, and with a quick exposure of his forearm bearing the mark of a shooting star, he phased away, leaving the air behind him smelling like flowers; he must have gone to the garden.
Tasha sighed. "Why does he get to be psychic AND teleporting?"
Richard shrugged. "He's Groundmaster. All six of them are granted those powers by the Worldmaster. We're on a lenient Ground, though, so we're pretty lucky. Well, we best go do our stuff."
Tasha blushed a bit, and asked, "C... Can I come with you, Richard?"
He smiled softly. "Sure, Tasha. Just don't be such a worrywart about the horses kicking me, or it'll make them nervous and they will."
She sighed, and nodded. "I know... I know it's a problem I have... I'm trying to improve though, I really am."
"I know. You've been doing well, too," Richard complimented. Her smile and blush both grew, and the two went on their way.
Not sure how successful this'll be, but I figured what the heck. This is a multi-author thread, where a story is started and then someone else can continue it. It can go in any directions imagineable, so long as it's kept around PG-13 or so, and nobody cops out with a "Suddenly everyone dies and are replaced by such and such" or anything like that. If you're gonna kill characters, give it meaning, and don't let it be more than one at a time.
While crazy ones can be fun, we can maybe start another for that purpose. For this particular one, let's keep things fairly serious. We can each add twists, characters and traits, and see just where it decides to go.
Note: So that nobody is caught in the dillemma of having written something cool, then posting and finding that someone else had posted around the same time... We'll use the Dibbs System: If you feel confident you will be able to type something up very soon, put in a post that simply says "Dibbs" or something to that effect, then come in and edit it. People can line up if they wish.
And that's it! Have fun if you choose to participate.
Chapter 1: A Day on East Ground
"Jason, dammit, you're gonna kill yourself one o' these days!"
The lanky 16 year-old, a shoulder-length brunette in a white tanktop and torn jeans, ran a hand through his wavy locks and laughed. "You're not my mom, Rich. Admit it, it was a kickass move!"
Richard, a short boy of close age with a green spiky mohawk on his head and wearing a black robe trimmed with red flames on all hems, sighed in defeat and rolled his red eyes. "Alright, it kicked ass, but if you keep tree-leaping from that high you're bound to break somethin' eventually."
"Well I haven't yet," Jason said with a smirk and a wink of one of his violet eyes, "Besides, I'd just as likely die from a showering accident. Don't you shower? Or is that why you're hiding under that security blanket?"
"It's not a blanket," Richard grumbled, tugging a bit at the sleeve, "You know us Macros have to keep our markings outta the sun but still have access to them."
"Yeah, yeah, stinky."
Richard narrowed his eyes. "I shower, ok?"
"Keep your security blanket with you?"
"Shut up!" Richard took a swipe at Jason, who danced back with laughter. Jason darted forward and shoved his friend playfully, and they soon were engaged in a wrestling match. Richard could have easily overpowered Jason, but kept his powers in check.
"Don't fight!" a plaintive voice protested from a distance.
The boys looked up from their respective headlocker and headlockee positions and saw a honey-blonde, gold-eyed girl of 14 running toward them, her pink robe fluttering busily behind her.
They let go of each other, sighing and smiling. Jason waved to her, "Oh Tasha, you worry too much, we're just messin' around."
She came to a stop, pouting, arms crossed. "Can't you boys ever 'mess around' without being all aggressive? It worries me."
"Boys will be boys," Jason said with a shrug, "It can't be helped."
"And they call me uptight," Richard sighed, patting the girl on the head, "Just calm down and stop worrying about us, you know me an' Jason are friends." Besides, he thought, You'd have had an aneurism seeing Jason jumping through the trees like he was!
"I'll kick you for your recklessness later, Selfrun Jason," a rough male voice said. All three of them jumped in surprise as a fourth figure shimmered into place among them. The 35 year old Groundmaster stood with his strong arms crossed, in a black jacket and dark jeans. Seemingly permanent stubble laced his ever-scowling mouth, and his bright blue eyes were piercing below his spiky head of black hair. On his forehead was a black symbol resembling a diagonal whisp of grain, always showing because it was always in use. "Right now, all Selfruns are to report to the Grounds HQ for Juvenile Input on proposed school laws."
Jason rolled his eyes. "Boooooring," he sighed, "C'mon, Mike, you know I don't care about that kinda stuff, I go to school anyway. An' how come the Macros don't hafta do this?"
"You will call me Groundmaster Michael," the man said for probably the three-hundredth time, "And Macros have their own meetings at their own schools."
"Well I've got somethin' to propose," Jason said with his eyes a bit narrowed, "Oh yessir I do. That we all go to the same schools, cuz this separation shit bites."
"That wouldn't work, Jay," Richard pointed out, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder, "We spend so much time honing our powers we wouldn't get the same classes most of the time anyway."
Jason sighed. "Ahh well. Fine, stupid meeting here I come." He waved to Richard and Tasha, and headed off with a jaunty pace, whistling a tune.
Groundmaster Michael looked at the two Macros. "Firun Richard and Waterun Tasha, right? Don't forget your Ground duties. And no, no trading them again; they're assigned to you for a reason, most likely because you don't like them." He smirked, and with a quick exposure of his forearm bearing the mark of a shooting star, he phased away, leaving the air behind him smelling like flowers; he must have gone to the garden.
Tasha sighed. "Why does he get to be psychic AND teleporting?"
Richard shrugged. "He's Groundmaster. All six of them are granted those powers by the Worldmaster. We're on a lenient Ground, though, so we're pretty lucky. Well, we best go do our stuff."
Tasha blushed a bit, and asked, "C... Can I come with you, Richard?"
He smiled softly. "Sure, Tasha. Just don't be such a worrywart about the horses kicking me, or it'll make them nervous and they will."
She sighed, and nodded. "I know... I know it's a problem I have... I'm trying to improve though, I really am."
"I know. You've been doing well, too," Richard complimented. Her smile and blush both grew, and the two went on their way.
