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Separate Worlds

 
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Onic
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Joined: 17 Dec 2007
Posts: 95
Location: Virginia

PostPosted: Thu May 07, 2009 12:00 am    Post subject: Separate Worlds Reply with quote

Rather than dredge up my old thread I figure I'll start a new one.
My primary project is currently called Dakota's World, after the main character of that story, but I have dozens of other ideas all vying for attention. Imaginative overload is the norm for me! Recently my best friend and I discovered an idea that we're calling "Doorways," which conveniently links up every single story I've ever written. Hopefully I'll get to that. right now, since it's late on my end, I'll just post a quick piece I wrote last month.
[Please don't steal my characters or ideas!]



Darrech Tailor

Darrech spluttered in laughter, spreading his hands wide in confusion.
"My dear Sheriff, how in this land might I use my tailor's shears as a weapon? It's preposterous!"
The Sheriff leaned his unshaven face close to Darrech's, and the tailor could smell his foul breath as the man spoke softly.
"I've 'eard of the disguised assassins comin' out o' your parts. How they go abouts like ordinary folk, but they ain't ordinary folk. Jus' like you ain't an ordinary tailor, are you?"
Derrech stiffened, and I muttered an Empathy toward him to know what was going on since we could barely see in the dark outskirts of the village. He felt a sharp object poke into his midriff and glanced down to see the Sheriff holding a rusty belt knife there. He shook his head, knowing it wouldn't do to allow a dirty blade into his bowels.
The Sheriff pressed a bit harder, anger spurred by strong drink causing him to misinterpret Darrech's shake of the head. I broke the link then, rubbing the ghost of the pain Darrech now felt away from my own stomach, knowing we might be in more trouble than we thought.
"Ya think I'm wrong? That I'm crazy? Ho ho," he laughed threateningly, "You have no idea how much I'll get for turning you in! I know what you are!"
Darrech's face went dead, emotionless. He faced the larger man before him, and the Sheriff's exultation changed into confusion. An almost imperceptible noise flicked through the air; it could have been an exasperated sigh from Darrech, but we never found out.
The Sheriff's eyes widened, his face froze into an expression of pain, and he fell down at Darrech's feet. The tailor looked down at him, then with a shrug turned to us, an innocent, somewhat ironic grin on his face.
"Must've had one drink too many. Onward, shall we?"
And he picked up his bag in his left hand, trotting onward toward the flickering lights of the village tavern.
We looked at each other, then scrambled to pick up our things and hurry after the tailor. I hung back as though securing my pack, in order to check the Sheriff's pulse. He was actually alive, much to my relief, but his heartbeat was irregular. I had expected him to be dead, though I couldn't explain why. After pulling him off and leaving him in a ditch so he wouldn't be run over by a horse cart, I followed the others through the dark misting rain and icy mud, stomping up worn wooden steps to the front porch of the tavern where my companions had gone.
Darrech was outside. He looked like he had been waiting for me, always a quick grin ready on his face. But I saw the way his head had snapped up at my approach, how he smoothly slid his tailor's shears into a pockets beneath his heavy woolen cloak.
How a dark stain, too dark to be mud, now folded into the depths of the garment, had been left behind after cleaning the tool.
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Amalthea
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Joined: 06 Apr 2009
Posts: 322
Location: SoCAl

PostPosted: Thu May 07, 2009 1:21 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

huhs... interestings...
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Onic
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Joined: 17 Dec 2007
Posts: 95
Location: Virginia

PostPosted: Fri May 08, 2009 6:22 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

That last one was an idea I had while putting away dishes one morning. I wondered what it would be like for an assassin to wield a common tool as his weapon.

Up next is a potentially related story about two of my characters who have appeared in multiple stories of mine. I wrote this after Darrech Tailor, thinking that perhaps they might all be headed toward the same destination.

~

In the relative center of the village Arrock, east of Namyvya, there stands a tavern. It is an old structure, and sturdy to withstand the coastal winds and tidal patterns that sometimes isolate the village from the main shore. Arrock itself lies on a sweeping sandbar, and the village was stupidly built upon the sand and washed away by the first storm. Now every walkway is suspended by flexible posts anchored deep into the sand to keep from washing away. When the tides come in the walkways float on top of the water. Every building stands several feet above the tide line, anchored and sometimes even carved into the spires of craggy darkrock the jut skyward from the sandbar. These rock spires keep the sea winds from doing too much damage and help break large incoming waves created by storms. Because the tide line is only so predictable, building codes require that all rooms have water drains to keep buildings from acquiring standing water. Every building is made from the same, near-black driftwood that washes in like clockwork onto the beaches every summer. Tales say that there was once a forest that grew on a distant shore, with trees as tall as mountains, where animal folk lived and warred with each other, but the inhabitants of Arrock scoff at the tales, like a joke.

The tavern is significant because it is the largest structure in the village, bigger by far than the governor's mansion, which is only two stories tall like most houses. The Tavern was built a whopping four stories tall, not including the ten feet it must sit above the sand to accommodate the tide line. After the first time Arrock and the Tavern were washed away, the town has been rebuilt, every mishap leading to new methods of creating lasting structures. The Tavern is the masterpiece of the village, providing the best food, drink, stories, news, gossip, and sleeping arrangements for several miles.


- Journals of Athaliel, Vol. 7

It is into this village of Arrock that two travelers enter, wrapped from head to foot in cloths, hooded and cloaked in a sandy-colored material. They climb up a flight of stairs up onto one of the boardwalks, making their way toward the hulking structure of the Tavern and, passing beneath the threshold, find themselves in a crowded, noisy room. Tables, chairs, and booths all made of wood are nested around a roaring fireplace, open on all sides. Villagers and travelers mingle and talk, serving maids clink glass mugs full to the brim with ale onto tables, serving boys run to take orders to the kitchens, and steam and smoke rise up to the ceiling, carrying a variety of scents along to seep out under the eaves.

One of the two travelers, the taller one, guides his companion to the welcome desk. An older, bony man sits there and directs a group of guests to their rooms, gesturing upstairs. His voluminous mustache, streaked grey with age, is rivaled only by his enormous bushy eyebrows. The travelers hang back until the others head upstairs, then they step forward. The old man turns his attention to them, peering up at them with interest.

"You want rooms? It's only 115 tuuls per night, and that's low, considering the merchant vessels due soon. Place is filling up fast. Plus, it's getting late." he indicates the failing light coming in through the windows.

"We want a room, and we're only going to pay 98 tuuls."

"Whaaat? That's not even bartering, that's like a threat! Are you threatening me?" the man cries out in indignation.
In a swift motion the tall traveler reaches forward and lifts the man off his feet so their faces were close. The shorter traveler puts a restraining hand, also tightly wrapped in cloth, on its companion's shoulder.

"I wasn't threatening you before," the tall one says with a growl, "I am now. You let those others off for less. I'm not some ignorant foreigner."

At a soft mutter from his companion, he dropped the man back onto his swivel chair. Apparently the little man was used to such treatment and had reverted back to business mode without delay.

"Right, then. 98 apiece for the night. Would that be one room, two, or adjoining?"

"One room, and the price is for the room, not the number of occupants." The tall traveler slammed a small bag onto the counter so that a few of the thinly cut gems scattered about. "That will also cover our food expenses. We'll need it brought up."

"Right." The man repeated, flicking a room card with a number and attached key and handing it to the traveler. "Fourth floor, room 47. There's a hallway with even rooms on the left and *odd* rooms on the right." He put extra emphasis on the word "odd," as though voicing his opinion of the two. But they had already hoisted their packs and started up the stairs.

~

The door to the room was flung open and the two travelers entered quickly, shutting and locking the door behind them. The shorter of the two was rubbing at its head and the taller said, "Not yet, let me check to make sure we're safe."

"How safe can we be in a place like this?" the other said in a distinctly feminine voice. "Besides, I'm kind of used to this sort of place, except for the smell of fish." She lifted her head up in the air a bit, sniffing.

"This is a good room. The walls are thick so if we speak softly we won't be overheard. The weakest point is the door. It only has a simple bolt lock that you can open from the inside."

"What about the windows?"
The tall traveler indicated the small, circular windows. "Styled after portholes. Too small for anyone to get in through and the glass is barred anyway, so it would be tough to throw anything in here."

"Perfect." the female said dryly, "now can I get out of this stupid getup? My backside is killing me." She gingerly began unwrapping herself, starting with her feet.

"Right, then," the male said, pulling the curtains across the windows. He then followed suit, tossing aside his tan cloak and began unwrapping the cloth from his head. "I admit I've got a pounding headache myself."

They both became absorbed in removing their garments. Gauze-like cloth was taken away to reveal digitrade paws for feet, padded and clawed hands, and then heads with pointed ears and wolf-like muzzles. The male swiveled his ears with a wince of pain after the hours they had spent plastered to his skull. He had dark fur, with coppery tints in his face and the back of his neck. His companion shook off the remnants of her disguise to reveal soft, light colored fur and a delicate muzzle and ears. The wolvians, Athaliel and Teffa, had arrived in Arrock.

Teffa began wrapping the gauze into a small bundle which she stuffed into her bag. She wore a simple shift that modestly covered her slight build. Standing, she stretched backwards with an exaggerated yawn, showing a mouthful of sharp white teeth. Then she turned to look at her mate.

"Onic," she said, using his preferred name, "As useful as those disguises are, I'm getting really tired of them. They're a pain-"

"-in the tail." Onic finished, with a sympathetic grin. "I have one too, you know."

In answer, Teffa swished her own tail back and forth, stretching again gritting her teeth as she loosened up again. She and Onic had spent the past eighteen hours with their ears and tails bound tightly, not a hair on their bodies visible as they traveled, so they wouldn't be hindered. It wore on her, because the outfits restricted their movement and felt like they rubbed her fur off. Onic sat on the edge of the bed and tossed the heavy boots he had been wearing into a corner, rubbing his paws. Teffa trotted in a circle around the room, her claws clacking on the wood floor.

"I'm going to freshen up, not that it really matters since we're not going anywhere." she announced, taking a new set of clothes to the adjoining washroom and pumping boiling water into the partially full tub to wash.
Onic watched her for a moment, then took stock of the rest of the room. The bed was small, so he would opt to take the floor, although knowing his mate they would both be on the floor before the night was over anyway. Teffa couldn't stand to sleep without him since they had lost-

Onic shook his head, refusing to think about that. Those were not tears pricking the corners of his eyes, he tried to convince himself, and hastily he began organizing his traveling pack to take his mind away from the painful memories. He concentrated on his mate's absentminded humming to herself as she washed the sand and salt out of her fur. They would have to be careful to clean thoroughly after themselves so none of their shed fur gave their identities away. In the Skinlands, wolvians and other namalians weren't welcome, and most areas didn't even believe such people as Onic and Teffa existed.
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Onic
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Joined: 17 Dec 2007
Posts: 95
Location: Virginia

PostPosted: Thu May 21, 2009 9:57 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I wrote this last night after reading a huge portion of TV Dave's Players. You'll probably see the similarities... He seemed like such a great guy, but I never knew him personally. It was terrible two years ago when I first read Players to find out that TV Dave was never going to be able to finish the story. Crying or Very sad

Anyway. I guess you could call this piece "written in the spirit of TV Dave."

Night on the Town

"Hold it."

I put up a hand, stopping in my tracks so that Val jerked my arm forward before realizing I had stopped.

"What?" she asked, tilting her head to one side and tapping her paw impatiently,

"You know that Shir and the rest are already outside? You shouldn't keep her- I mean *them* waiting."

The others at the end of the hall turned when they heard our voices. The front door opened and slammed shut several times as they went outside.

"I know." I said, "But I'm not taking another step until I know what I'm getting into. I'm not familiar with this world yet. I already know there are many differences than back home."

"You're chickening out." Val stated smugly. Her voluminous tail had begun swishing back and forth again and her arms were crossed.

"Am not! I just don't want to get caught off guard!" I defended. "How do I know you're not setting me up on a-"
The front screen door squealed open and a voice calling down the hall interrupted me.

"Guys! You coming?" It was Devon, "We're all ready to go! Waiting on you!"
Out front a car horn beeped.

"C'mon!" Val tugged at my arm, her claws pricking my skin.
I held my ground, frowning.

"What else are you going to do tonight, huh?" she asked, still pulling until I had to take a step forward.

"Uhhh..." I said.

"Ha!" she barked out a laugh, and flew down the hall and out the front door with me in tow, barely staying on my own two feet.

~

July 10th, Day 13

I didn't know what I was getting into. I've traveled to hundreds of separate worlds, but my time spent last night in Ponetista wasn't like anything else I have ever experienced. I had never met a race of anthros before whose culture exceeded a tribal level, yet here I found myself stunned, sitting in a movie theater with a group of teenage furs and femmes, all laughing as they watched the latest in a furry action/drama series on the big screen. I couldn't understand half of it, and later when I was dragged to a favorite restaurant for dinner, I found out the movie had been like the fifth in the series, so no wonder.

Devon treated us all to a dinner of individual bread bowl soups. He seemed like a pretty decent guy, I mean skunk. I was so relieved to see the familiar broccoli and cheddar on the menu. They laughed at me for ordering it. Some kind of inside joke?
It's really awkward not knowing which species of animal in my world is intelligent here. I'd hate to insult anyone by asking whether steak is served, since I was starving. But so far I think the furs in Ponetista are all carnivores or omnivores, with a few exceptions. I'm sure our waitress was part rabbit, but I would never ask.

That's the other thing about their world. All furs and femmes are sexually compatible. At least, I'm assuming they are, considering all the hybrids I've seen as we hit the town. Most of the things I learned last night were on the fly. Valerie had to stop at a boutique to admire the dress she swears she'll be wearing to an upcoming prom. I caught a glance of the price tag as we left, and thought my eyes would pop out of my head until I remembered that the currency here must be different that back home. Still, it wasn't a comforting though. That number was waaay too long.

By 8 o'clock it was dark and the lights were all on. We walked along busy streets with impatient furs trying to get home from work. Devon, Tonia, Shirley and Valerie all chatted, walking arm in arm, their tails making a wall of fur I couldn't really see beyond. Trevor and Lucy Wolfe walked on either side of me, holding their own conversation that I tried to pay attention to, but I was distracted by the items in the shops we passed.

Things like tail rings, which Val went on and on about. They're very popular with the felines, I'm told. Then there were carob candy bars (canines are allergic to chocolate?), catnip-laced perfumes (Val wanted to go in, but when my jaw hit the sidewalk at seeing the other products in there, Trevor hurried us along), and fur brushes for removing shedding fur. It was crazy.

I think it was around 9 o'clock when we finally reached the Cafe. That's where I learned that furs here don't drink coffee. Instead they enjoy tea for hot drinks, but their tea is not the same as ours. It's stronger and tastes more like fruit juice, and it comes in all kinds of flavors. Devon treated us all again and we filled up two separate booths. Valerie paired off with Devon, giving me an exaggerated wink before I was herded into a big red booth next to Shirley. Trevor, his sister Lucy, and Tonia took the other booth. I could see the wolves' ears over the high backs of the padded benches.

When the tea arrived, it was steaming and too hot to drink. Devon handed me a mug that smelled deliciously like bananas, while sliding Shir hers, and I laughed when I recognized the scent of hers. It was basically apple cider.
Tonia was telling another one of her jokes behind Devon and Valerie, and Trevor's uproarious laughter filled the cafe. I remember blowing on my tea to cool it off before taking a sip. It was soooo good! Like bananas and brown sugar, with a buttery aftertaste. (I wish I could have another one right now. No wonder the teens like to hang out there.)

When I looked around at the hanging lights and long counter of the cafe, I saw a couple of furs staring at me. I hadn't thought that I would stand out so much, but now that we were in a smaller place I was more noticeable. They looked away quickly, but for the rest of the time I could see them sneaking glances at me out of the corner of my eye. It made me feel uncomfortable.

What didn't help is that Devon and Val had really gotten into each other. I don't remember when it switched from them talking to each other to full-blown, mouth to mouth passionate kissing. For me, it was more than a little disturbing to see that kind of interaction between a feline and a skunk. They hadn't even touched their drinks. I looked over at Shir, who rolled her eyes at the other two and took a long drink of her tea, setting it back down and smacking her lips.

Shir is a raccoon. She seems pretty nice, not quite as fashionable as Tonia or Val, more of a tomboy, though I have no idea whether that's what they call it here. I'm still getting used to the subtle differences of the way furs and femmes look, but Shir is relatively attractive. She's got this kind of tough attitude, but it doesn't outshine her femininity. (Is that even a word?)
I didn't want to sit there and say nothing, so I commented on how much I liked the tea and Shir and I got talking. It was slow at first. I've got to loosen up a bit, but it's so hard when I'm so out of sorts. Anyways, I asked Shir why the femmes call her "Girly-Shirley," since it doesn't really seem to apply to her. I mean, I didn't say that she wasn't girly.

Ugh! What I mean that I said was:
"So why do they call you Girly-Shirley?"

She snorted. "It's a joke. They call me that because it's not really true. I'm just not into all the fashion and makeup and stuff."

She didn't say anything about not being interested in guys.

Then she asked me what I did for a living. Mr. Slater from the convention offices had told me to keep my world-traveling ability to myself, since no one on Ponetista knew of such things. My face got really hot when I told her I wasn't aloud to say, but she thought that was cool and the conversation turned to secret government operations and conspiracy theories.

I think Valerie broke apart from Devon when Shir and I were in the midst of a pantomimed gunfight. We froze when we realized we were being watched, then all four of us burst out laughing. Tonia, Lucy, and Trevor all stuck their heads over the back of Devon and Val's seat, wanting to know what was so funny. By that time it was very late and Trevor said that we all really needed to get back home. Devon ran back to get the car while we finished out drinks and he was waiting on the curb with his lights on and the convertible top down. We all piled in (that's one thing I love about this place, the cars normally seat around eight people to accommodate large families, something to do with litters?).

It was a warm night, and they turned on the radio to listen to some rock music. It sounded fun. Lucy knew the song and sang with it. She was actually a really good singer. Then I found out that the artist was a wolf when the song and Lucy both howled to the music. That was awesome. Tonia had her eyes closed in the front, playing invisible drums, while Shir hummed the harmony next to me. I just tapped my foot to the beat.

Devon dropped me off really late here at the Slater's where I'm staying. I had left my watch in my room so I don't know exactly when it was when I got back, but the street lamps started turning off, so I rushed inside. I should have gone straight to bed but I couldn't. I had to write about it all. My head is spinning. I had so much fun!

I hope the tea wasn’t fermented or something.
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