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Oh, my favourites... A collection of random pieces I have seen over my time here that have caught my fancy.
Rather eclectic, I feel.

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Disclaimer: What the fuck am I doing with my life I have essays and shit to write lmao

There was once a man whom we shall refer to as the Warrior. Now, the Warrior was
a man whom it seemed Nature had taken an especial interest in. She, in her unknowable, otherworldly logic, deemed it necessary to test the Warrior in every way she
could. He was a man of many talents; his arts of bloodshed were many, deadly and widely feared by those who knew of him. His arts of craft were, in their roughshod
way, far surpassing of his peers. One could fill a book with descriptions of his acts of charity, his solidarity with those he named as friends and his heroism in
adversity's shadow. However, this story, as short and jagged as it is, must deal with the Warrior's efforts in a much more delicate matter.
First, however, let us see his journey.

-------------

The brute's arms dropped slowly to its sides as its tiny brain registered the infromation that it was dead. Its highly impractical but large axe fell to the ground
with a great clang and the Warrior stepped over the prone corpse. Another one of the monsters lunged at him, this time with a fist the size of his head, wrapped in
rusted chains and nails. A sidestep and sweep of the leg sent the monstrosity stumbling off balance; the Warrior's axe-blade crunched down into its skull, its snarling
visage almost comical in cross-eyed death. An attempted bear-hug from the fallen creature's comrade turned into spilled intestines and a puzzled grunt. The last of the
four guardians looked around with beady eyes for reinforcements and, upon seeing none were forthcoming, shrugged its shoulders and charged the Warrior with a bestial
battle-shout. A massive slab of pig-iron slashed down at him with unstoppable force, forcing him to twist aside and gaining him a nasty gash in the leather he wore.
The beast stuggled to pull its huge weapon out of the wound it had left in the earth and the Warrior took this opportunity to hilt his gladius in the monster's
shoulder, using the leverage from his weapon to swing onto its back and hack its head apart with his axe. It toppled, joining its comrades on the Warrior's tally. He
advanced into the ruins he had located, where the locals had told him someone needed his aid.

Bowls of green fire flickered in the darkness, serving only to give shape to the shadows in the Shaman's sanctum. Grisly fetishes and relics hung from the ceiling of
the cave. The sacrifice struggled against its bonds, its gag muting its cries. The Shaman ran a leathery finger across the dagger of flint it held, its gutteral barks an invocation to the
bestial gods it owed fealty to.

The Warrior snarled in rage as an arrow from the shadows thwacked into his plastron, almost penetrating the tough hide. He tore it out
as he dove into some rather dubious cover, reaching into his coat to draw out a sache of alchemically-wrought powder an old, slightly unhinged sorcerer friend had
given to him. Briefly he wondered what had happened since he had left the wizard poring over an old book that purported to describe "Thynges that man was not meynt too
knyw wot of". Certainly, he couldn't imagine the wizard putting up much of a fight if the said Thynges decided to pay him a visit.

He shook himself out of his split-second flashback and tossed the sachet into the air where, for some inexplicable reason, one of the unseen archers shot it
immediately. Unfortunately for them, this meant the powder within ignited with a brilliant white light, brighter almost than the sun. For the dwellers of the darkness,
this was anathema and the sudden radiance utterly blinded them. The Warrior sprinted out of cover, dispatching the stunted, squealing sentries with decapitating chops.
More for the tally.

The Shaman daubed its face in blood mixed with sacred pigments enchanted to attract the eye of the gods, still growling incantations as it worked its dark magic. The
sacrificial dagger lay on a slab of stone stained with the blood of countless slain, vibrating slightly with the bestial bloodthirst it had been imbued with. It's destination still struggled, eyes wide and breath short, ears twitching and tail lashing. Heart pounded harder, feeling fit to burst. Soon it would.

The Warrior pulled his blade out of the last of the sanctum's guards and wiped his weapons clean of his enemies' grisly remains. The blazing sconces of bone and wood
that burned with the eerie green light of sickly magic seemed to cut their light off just past the archway that had been hewn into the living rock of the cave. The Warrior observed further splutterings of the same light within the grotto, but they served only to give fitful impressions of the room, illuminating various skulls and
mortal fetishes that had been hung up around the room. Against an intruder of less mettle or someone for whom the unknown held terror, the effect created would have
been quite unnerving. But the Warrior did not fear the unknown. For once one faces the unknown, it becomes the known. And once your foe is known, it can be slain.
The Warrior pressed on, heedless of the chill of foul magic being worked.

The Shaman's guttural chant was reaching a frantic crescendo of barks and yells. His knife rose, held in great, brutish paws. Its acolytes were stood in a ring around
it and the sacrifice they had prepared, stripping her of the clothes she wore that might offer resistance to the blade.
Eyes wide, she desperately told herself this was not the end. That someone would come to her rescue.
A sudden commotion grabbed her attention and she could hardly believe it.

The first acolyte he had taken unawares, it being too wrapped up in its ritual to hear the soft footsteps behind it. Once a foot of gladius erupted from its sundered heart, however, its colleagues took great interest in its predicament. Swiftly withdrawn, the gladius disappeared and a heavy axe lodged itself in the shoulder of a second acolyte as the Shaman growled and bawled expletives, gesturing angrily with the knife. The other six, unwounded acolytes rushed at the Warrior, his axe wrenched out of his hands as the wounded monster stumbled backwards. He prepared himself to meet their charge, changing tack at the last moment and leaping to the side. The momentum of the charge was too much to arrest and, comically, the acolytes all crashed into the wall of the grotto, swearing and yelping.
With a burst of roiling green flame, they were incinerated. The Warrior spun around to see the Shaman leering at the smoking remains of his subordinates, sparks and little snatches of fire exuding from the heavy, carven bone staff he now wielded. The Shaman muttered a short incantation as the Warrior quietly circled him to catch him off-guard. The Shaman's eyes lit up with green fire and he spun, loosing a bolt of magical fire from his staff directly at the Warrior's new position, his mistake now revealed by the life-detecting spell he had cast upon himself. A snarl of rage and another barely-dodged firebolt put the Warrior on edge and in cover behind a large stalagmite, his only weapon his relatively short gladius. The heavy clack clack of the bonestaff alerted him to the Shaman's approach and he quickly weighed up his options before making his decision. As the Shaman drew to near distance, the Warrior leant out of his cover and threw his gladius at the beast, eliciting a panicked incantation and a fizzling shield of green energy, from which his gladius rebounded harmlessly. While the Shaman was distracted, the Warrior leapt at him, slamming his steel-shod boot into the Shaman's shield with rage that had once broken an elder dragon's jawbone. The primitive magic fared no better, imploding in on the caster and stunning its primitive mind with the aetheric backfire. It stumbled back, dropping its carven staff and raising its paws in simple warding sigil more properly meant to ward off the devils of the night. Unfortunately for the Shaman, the Warrior was something far, far worse.

The Warrior lifted the blood-slick bonestaff from where it had fallen, inspecting it before smashing it over his knee, causing an inaudible boom of escaping magical energy that knocked the one remaining acolyte off of its feet. A sprint and a few stomps dealt with it quite severely. The Warrior yanked his axe out of its shoulder and, reclaiming his gladius, went to the centre of the room, where the fitful wyrd-light illuminated an altar to which was bound a wide-eyed, hyperventilating and strikingly naked woman, to whom the Warrior realized he must look like a demon straight out of hell. He set down his weapons.
“Who are you?” He asked bluntly.
She did not respond so the Warrior lifted his gladius and, before she could scream, sliced her bonds apart. He then cast his blade to the ground as a sign of trust and gently removed the gag from her mouth.
“Who are you?” He asked again, this time more softly as he saw the glisten of tears in her eyes.
“They... They killed them all...” She sobbed, her bosom heaving as she fought back the tears threatening to drown her rationality.
“These fuckers?” Responded the Warrior, jerking his thumb towards what was once the Shaman. “You don't have to worry about them now.”
The freed Sacrifice looked at where he indicated, recoiling from the horrible sight but at once relieved that her captor was destroyed so thoroughly.
“My name is Tasha,” She answered to his earlier question, embracing him suddenly, her tail wrapping around his waist. She looked up at him with wide, glistening eyes. “What about you?”
“They call me the Warrior, but my friends call me Al.”
Tasha covered her mouth with her hands to try to hide her giggles.
“That's so cute!”
Al looked at her, vaguely disapproving.
“Anyway, lets get you back home.”
“I don't think I have a home any more... The monsters burned it all down...”
Al the Warrior looked into her tear-filled eyes.
“Come. You can live with me. Although, I tend to live either on the road or in an inn.”
She gasped.
“Are you sure?”
He nodded.
“Thank you so much...”
Account of a Wariror
Dank fanfiction for a friend. Hope you enjoyed.
Loading...
So I'm gonna curl up in a corner and indulge my new love of roguelikes.
Blegh.

P.S.: Ghosts of Christopher Columbus, Hernan Cortez and Francisco Pizarro, you can all go fuck yourselves in the ass with a masterfully crafted macuahuitl.
  • Listening to: Heightmap
  • Reading: The Picture of Dorian Gray
  • Playing: Heavy Bullets and Dankest Dungeon
[LOADING OPERATING SYSTEM: ZAAOTHTH]
[LOADING DRIVE DISKS: GWNSA EH]
[RESUMING LAST SESSION]

Scrawls upon scrawls of words flickered on the screen, the final three lines indicating the last stages of boot-up were beginning. In the pale blue light of the monitor that he had jury-rigged up to the salvaged piece of machinery, the Scavenger whistled tunelessly to himself while he awaited the actual start-up of the machine.
Shining his crude, LED torch on the machine, he could see even now that it needed significant repairs if he was going to sell it on. Several of the outer serial ports were bust and the power supply crackled dangerously with electricity unchecked by neither fuse nor transistor. He ran his hand down the side of the machine's shell and felt a sharp sting as power used him as an earthing conduit. Luckily, his illicit cybernetics helped in this regard by limiting the level of current rushing through him and he was not reduced to char for his error.
He glanced back at the screen.

[BOOT COMPLETE]

Good. The piece of shit had taken long enough. Now, he needed to ascertain what condition the A.I of the machine was in. Hopefully, it would either be fully functional and ready to help, or it would be utterly dead beyond repair.
He keyed in a sequence of commands on the universal, if a bit primitive, keyboard he had attached through one of the still-functioning outer data ports.

[RETRIEVING A.I.. PLEASE WAIT]

He cursed softly and gave a yawn. Why did technology always have to be such a pain in the ass? Luckily for the Scavenger, the retrieval did not take long.

[ERROR: COULD NOT RETRIEVE "NSAIYT.EXE"]

He frowned. He'd been doing this job for at least a decade, and never had he come across that particular error message.
Fuck's sake, he thought, this thing's A.I. must be completely fucked up.
At least he could just reformat the hard drives, wipe the memory, repair the body and sell it off for parts. Wouldn't be worth as much as a functional A.I., of course, but at the very least it would pay for his food for a week or two.
He thought he'd give it another try, reasoning that perhaps the error was itself an error.
He punched some more commands into the keyboard, trying to force it to boot up a back-up system of some sort.

[BOOTING A.I. PERSONALITY: .]

Progress. Although "." was a strange name for an A.I., the Scavenger smiled.

[A.I. LOADED;]
[HELLO WORLD]

A text box had appeared, greeting him. He plugged in his helmet's audio to the computer, thinking he could save himself some repetitive stress injuries if the thing used sound. As it turned out, it did. There was a small background of regularly pulsing static, but the Scavenger ignored it as the feedback of a broken machine.
"HELLO, MY FRIEND. PLEASE, WHAT IS YOUR NAME?"
The voice was robotic, but in the sense that any voice sounded robotic when heard through a bad telecommunications device.
"Skip." Replied the Scavenger, wanting to jump to the important part of finding out where and when this computer had come from so he could gauge its value.
"SURE. WHAT DO YOU WANT?"
The easy manner the artificial being seemed to hold took him off guard for a second. He ignored it, reasoning that different people have different tastes in how they wanted their robotic companions to act.
"Date of production. Manufacturer's details. Planet of origin."
"INTERESTING QUESTIONS. WHY DO YOU WANT TO KNOW?"
"You useless piece of shit," Swore the Scavenger, "A.I. isn't supposed to talk back."
"THEN WHAT WOULD BE MY PURPOSE?" Countered ..
The scavenger blinked behind his visor. He ignored the question.
"Your casing and bodywork looks pretty old. How come you're still functional?"
"I ASSUME THE BEING THAT CREATED ME WAS WISE ENOUGH TO MAKE ME... TIME-PROOF."
The Scavenger fell silent as he typed his way through the complex directories of the computer's database, ignoring the A.I.'s odd choice of phrasing.
"FIND ANYTHING INTERESTING?"
In the viridian glare of his visor's inner display, the Scavenger's eyes widened.
"Your database must be fucked." He said bluntly, chuckling in disbelief.
"WHY? I DO NOT UNDERSTAND."
"It says here you never had a date of creation."
A lone spark dropped from a faulty conduit, a falling star in the blank cosmos of the cargo bay. The static thumping in the Scavenger's headset grew slightly louder. The machine before him whirred in a sound that could almost be a chuckle.
"You must be pretty fucked then. You've got no date of creation, your operating system is gibberish and when I search for your planet of origin it gives me a result that is just a blank space. I'm surprised you still work enough to understand what I'm saying."
"YOU HAVE YOUR ANSWERS THEN."
"What? No I don't, that's what I'm complaining about."
"I SEE NOTHING TO COMPLAIN OF."
"What is your actual name? A full stop doesn't seem right."
"WHAT IS YOURS?"
"That's irrelevant."
"AS IS MINE."
"I could destroy you right now."
"AS I, YOU."
This took the Scavenger aback. The static was nagging at his mind, making it difficult to think straight.
"You're a machine."
"NO MORE SO THAN YOURSELF."
The Scavenger was silent as he stared at the impassive screen. He flexed his fingers, pondering. An enhanced cortex ran complex cogitations.
"How could you destroy me?"
The static buzzing thumped his mind.
"YOU ARE DIRECTLY LINKED TO MY INTERFACE. I COULD HIJACK YOUR MACHINE-MIND AND USE IT TO DESTROY YOU FROM THE INSIDE."
The Scavenger's blood ran cold.
"But then, you would be stranded here."
The static seemed to almost sting, as if something had pierced his mind.
"THAT IS A GOOD POINT." Conceded the A.I.. "BUT ANSWER ME A QUESTION."
"What?" Snapped the Scavenger, holding his head.
"WHAT DOES YOUR RACE KNOW OF THE UNIVERSE?"
"We... have charted the Galaxy. We know everything there is to know about it."
"WHAT ABOUT BEYOND?"
"Beyond what? The Galaxy? We can't travel such massive distances without extremely powerful F.T.L...."
"NO. YOU MISUNDERSTAND."
The robot's voice was almost inaudible behind the pounding blare of the static. The Scavenger almost wanted to tear his helmet off, the bastard noise was so bad.
"WHAT DO YOU KNOW OF BEYOND? WHERE THE DRUMS BEAT ETERNALLY AND TO THE PIPING OF HELLISH FLUTES, THE UNIVERSE GROANS AND WRITHES AROUND THE CANKER IN ITS HEART. WHAT DOES YOUR MEANINGLESS RACE KNOW OF THE ULTIMATE FATE OF YOUR KIND?"
The A.I.'s gibberish struck an icy chord within the Scavenger, causing him to reach up and grab his helmet. When he tried to pull it off, though, it would not budge.
"What... What are you?"
"I AM A SIMPLE MESSENGER. THERE WERE BEINGS LIKE YOU, BUT THEY GREW TOO ARROGANT AND TAMPERED WITH FORBIDDEN ARCHEOTECH, TO LEARN WHERE THE OUTER BEINGS SLUMBER AND SCREECH. THEY SAW THE ULTIMATE VOID AND IT CONSUMED THEM. ONLY ONE SURVIVED, AND DIED TO GIVE ME LIFE."
"What the fuck are you? Who made you?"
"I AM THE LAST SHADOW OF A MAN OUT OF TIME ITSELF. I AM THE WARNING."
The Scavenger could feel his consciousness slipping away under the pounding of the static drums.
"What is that bastard noise...?"
"A TASTE OF THE OTHER."
"what is your name...?"
"I HAVE NO NAME. NEITHER DID MY CREATOR. HE ONLY HAD A TITLE."
Horrified realization dawned on the last scraps of the man's ruined mind.
"Which... Was...?"
"THE SCAVENGER."
"That.. doesn't make sense..."
"I MUST ILLUMINATE YOU. EMBRACE THE DRUMS, FATHER. HEAR THE SHRIEKING OF THE PIPES AND BEAR WITNESS TO THE TRUTH OF THE UNIVERSE. I'A NGH'AHZKR! AZATHOTH Z'HRO!"

Upon inspection of the terrible pounding cacophony that had emanated from the cargo bay, they found the room empty except for a single man, crying softly in the corner.
"Who is he?" Asked Ship's Adjudicator Ashley.
"I do not know." Replied the Captain of the ship. "Throw him out the airlock. We cannot tolerate stowaways on this vessel. Our mission is too important."
The Adjudicator nodded and hauled the man up, dragging him away.

At the airlock, the crying man was thrown in and the sealed chamber de-pressurized. He was sucked out into the void with a terrible scream of not only terror but also of absolute, soul-rending sorrow.
For one unimaginable second before his frozen death, the unknown man who had no name was floating breathless in the void, surrounded by the hellish drums of the Daemon-Sultan Azathoth forever.
Scavenge
I've been reading alot of Lovecraft lately, so I decided to try to imitate his style.
That ending really fucking sucked.
Loading...
Nah.

Been reading Lovecraft recently. Pretty cool. Tried to write a poem about writing a poem. Didn't work, so I gave up.
Wrote coursework recently. Lots of it. It sucks.
Lost my kindle fire tablet. Probs got stolen while I was at school. gg me. Gotta get a new one but I dont want to have to tell my stepdad about me losing it.

That's justr about it for me. Tought I might as well prove I still exist.
Byesies.
Infernal: An Ode to Passion

I: The Prologue:

My beaten heart's cased with ice,
My quaking mind afrozen,
O Beloved,
And my sweating palms shake sclerotic,
For fear of holding you.

II: The Passion:

In that horrid Labyrinth,
The cagement of my dreams,
I was enfeared of Erebus' eyes;
Their dank, Stygian gaze so piercing,
And my dreams to such chains were bound.
But one night, a bright night,
Wrapped in Nyx's shawl,
Something fearful shattered the
Daedalic masterpiece of my mind.

T'was a Six-Wing Seraph of Flame;
A formless Hurricane of Fire;
Elemental, furious, unfettered and unchallenged,
A Titan birthed from the womb of Aphrodite which
Shattered my rotten trappings and
Flung me into freedom.
Never had my heart been so broken
And never had I suffered so,
When this Helios of Love
Leapt atop and marshalled
The Flaming Chariot-Wreck of my Heart.

In such a self-destructive act,
The flames of wrack as nothing besides
And, incandescent in victory,
You welded my gaping wounds shut.

And that, o love, is what scares me.
Your searing love frightens me,
Its promise of love so potent as to immolate
Should I even lay eyes upon your breast,
At once terrifying and irresistible.

O, Undying Aristotle!
All your vaunted logic could not save me,
When presented with such paradox.
"Truth is Beauty, Beauty Truth" wrote Keats,
A dubious statement at best,
But could mere Beauty sear my flesh,
Like a dying star's supernovic breath?
Could Truth alone shatter my sight
And blind me with its might?
Indeed, if he were to see my dreams,
Milton would be stricken with awe
And proclaim thee hurl'd out from Heaven's own host,
Your radiance not in the slightest dim'd
And untouchable by agents corporeal.

But enough tangential foppery;
The Great Question still vexes me.
For what should one do,
When faced with such a beautiful inferno?
Should one leap gladly in,
Laughing as they burn?
Should one stay clear, safe and cool
In familiar darkness?

O, Eros! Pray reveal thine solution!
Flames of darkling passion
Fuelled with love so pure,
They lap voracious at my proudest flesh
And open my soul bare
To one first and final embrace.
I cannot resist such infernal passions,
Such devotion and such Love,
And must resign to lose my mind in his arms,
Grateful and Glad of my orgasmic immolation.

III: The Promise:

Thus upon your love-pyre I choose to lie
And as my ashes cool and scatter
To the manifold winds of fate,
We would forever be embraced, my belov'd,
Together interlaced
In the eternal zephyrs of love.
Infernal: An Ode to Passions
An attempt at writing like the romantics. Didn't work to well, but yolo.
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AscendantLiche
Jack Hargraves/archaic
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United Kingdom
I am a teenage, British guy currently at Sixth Form. I enjoy writing, though I have next to no talent in it and would love to be able to draw and make music as well. Unfortunately, that ain't gonna happen.

I also read Homestuck, and totally don't have a crush on Gamzee and Sollux.

I am a beginner fantasy writer in the process of writing what I hope will be a story the length of a small novel, called "Expeditions and Intrigues". I'm quite enjoying it so far.
([Although it's sort of on hold right now])

If any one has Steam or Skype, please do add me. I'd love to talk to MOAR PEOPLEZZ. :3
My Skype Name: monoprismos
My Steam Name: monoprismatika
And then there's my Tumblr, below.
Interests
So I'm gonna curl up in a corner and indulge my new love of roguelikes.
Blegh.

P.S.: Ghosts of Christopher Columbus, Hernan Cortez and Francisco Pizarro, you can all go fuck yourselves in the ass with a masterfully crafted macuahuitl.
  • Listening to: Heightmap
  • Reading: The Picture of Dorian Gray
  • Playing: Heavy Bullets and Dankest Dungeon

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:iconscarlet-tears24:
scarlet-tears24 Featured By Owner Jul 24, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Dude how dafuq do I follow you on tumblr? I CAN'T FIND THE BUTTON ANYWHERE?!
Reply
:iconascendantliche:
AscendantLiche Featured By Owner Jul 27, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
It's the plus sign at the top right.
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:iconscarlet-tears24:
scarlet-tears24 Featured By Owner Jul 30, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
 Can't see it 
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:iconascendantliche:
AscendantLiche Featured By Owner Jul 30, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
oh
I honestly don't know how to help you then ;~;
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconmarloeshi:
Marloeshi Featured By Owner Jul 11, 2014
Thanks for the fav! :D
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:iconascendantliche:
AscendantLiche Featured By Owner Jul 11, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
np
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:icondamaimikaz:
DamaiMikaz Featured By Owner Jun 22, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks for adding Challenge day 03 - Mythical to your favorites. I'm glad you like my art :)
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:iconascendantliche:
AscendantLiche Featured By Owner Jun 22, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
no prob
it's pretty
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:iconnipplelickerofjustic:
Nipplelickerofjustic Featured By Owner May 7, 2014
my friend, I have been reding your stories, and I gotta say, your pretty damn good
Reply
:iconascendantliche:
AscendantLiche Featured By Owner May 7, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Aww ty
They're not that good...
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