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+--- Thread: We make do without a title (/showthread.php?tid=138229)
We make do without a title - Sol - 04-17-2016
Darkness encroached upon a wooden door. Behind it could be heard music, merry laughs and chatter of a crowd of men and women.
With a kick to the door the scene swung open. A hail of fire, drops of metal, faster than the bangs they sprung out from. They beat upon concrete, pierce through plastic, wood and flesh. They crack walls and bones open.
A splatter of bright red follows. Then screams of pain and terror.
A woman lies on the floor, her purple dress dirtied with the color of her attractive lips. Linda... she's dead. Like the nameless many all around her.
"Why?" a man asks, coughing, trying to keep his chest wound from pouring out... "Who are you? Why have you... done... THIS?!" he still can't believe he's about to die. A shock in his eyes, the dark of his pupils so wide. He, very soon too, draws his last breath.
Beasley simply walks on. Towards a man who was unfazed among the chaos. A man who sits still as a statue of a solemn king on a dark and comfortable throne. All light gathered on him, he reflects divinity and power. With a satisfied and deep breath, he savors the air in his lungs, then takes his last sip of whiskey from a delicate glass.
"I understand..." Victor starts, his calm demeanor in rebellion to the scene he was subjected to "I have made many enemies in this long life," his voice clear and proud, unexpected from his old age, "but tell me... at least, before I die... Who paid you for it?"
The shadow shakes and jerks around Victor as his adversary shrugs.
Beasley had practiced this in his mind oh-so-many-times. He declares, victoriously and ceremonially, "Nobody pays anymore,". A brief pause for dramatic effect. He shoots the guy dead. The void takes over. Fin.
--
Victor palmed his face, "Wow man, this was cheesy as hell,".
Running from a warm feeling of a homely atmosphere that quickly overwhelmed the scene, the void dissipated quickly.
Beasley stuttered where he stood, "Y-you, whot mate? It was cool, come on!"
Linda sat up and sighed, brushed her delicate hand on to the red spots of her favorite dress, wondering the best way to get this juice off it. "No, Beasley, it sucked, really... It was just terrible..."
RE: We make do without a title - Stuffz - 05-02-2016
Her shoes clicked on the marble floor as she walked along the grandiose hallway, large stained glass windows on her right and a row of larger than life
statues on her left. A determined expression on her face she walked up to the large door at the end of it, dragging a few feet of dress across the floor with her.
She slipped through the gap in the partially open door and entered the throne room.
"My king!" She exclaimed, slowly traversing the landscape of gold and jewels that had been piled onto the floor and now filled the entire room,
struggling quite a bit as she had to wade through a diamond-filled valley and finally reached a golden peak that let her see eye to eye with the man
sitting on his throne, his riches spread out in front of him. "What have you done to our life? Did you take me for a fool or for a wife?"
But the king paid his wife no mind, casually tossing the ornate goblet he had been studying moments earlier back onto the pile.
The bright sound of the goblet rolling down into one of the many valleys echoed through the throne room. Silence ensued.
"The prince, your son, is coming home. After all, he's in line for the throne." She stared at the unmoved man for a few seconds, anger and frustration showing
openly on her face. "Victor!" The man slowly raised his head to look at her. "Linda." With considerable effort the weary old king heaved himself out of his throne.
"Do you think that I don't know?" "Then why this stupid show?" She replied, carefully lifting her dress as she started to approach the throne again.
"The prince is coming back, is coming home, to take what's mine alone. He shall have none of it!" King Victor said coldly, reaching down and pulling a ceremonial sword, a hilt of gold, out
of the pile. He held it up to inspect the blade, before looking over to his wife again. "And yet he's already at the gate! Whatever you will try to do, it is too late."
Queen Linda was right in front of him now, looking up at him defiantly. "Struggle as you may, your reign still ends today." Victor smiled at her before suddenly
thrusting his sword into Linda's chest, the sharpened steel piercing her with ease. "And so do you."
Her eyes widen and slowly a stream of blood trickled down the edge of the blade before the king swiftly pulled the sword out of her body, which then collapsed
onto the floor, the royal blood soon soaking the gold beneath her.
The heavy doors of the throne room swung open then, announcing the arrival of the prince. "Father king!"
His loud voice filled the room and prince Beasley, clad in silver armor, made his way to the throne. "I have returned, to the one that had me spurned."
Victor calmly watched his son as he approached his father. "You may think that you've already won, but if it's victory you seek, you shall have none."
"Mother!" Beasley stepped forward, kneeling down to put one hand onto the cheek of his dead mother, a sad smile on his face. "Another deed to add to your list of sins."
Victor shook his head and buried the sword into the pile of gold, leaning onto the hilt, his age showing now. "Such is the fate of all kings.."
Beasley frowned as he stood back up. "I'll be a better king than you have ever been!" "That remains to be seen. Die!" The king yelled and frowned
as he pulled the sword back out of his treasure and lunged forward to pierce the heart of his heir.
The young prince sidestepped the sword of his father without effortlessly and lifted his own into the air. His face transformed into a mask of anger and sadness
as he brought it down and rammed it through Victor's back. The king only managed to cough once before he collapsed, his fingers desperately grabbing onto
his beloved gold as his last breath left his lungs.
Beasley's hands were shaking as he took them off his sword when his father collapsed and moments later he let himself fall back onto the floor as well.
He buried his face in his hands and sighed. "Why..? Why does it always have to be so gruesome?"
"The audience likes it." Linda simply announced, sitting up again. Victor groaned and slowly stood up. "What audience?"
RE: We make do without a title - Sol - 05-02-2016
"All this blood..." Beasley raised both his hands up to the sky, "but it's lacking something..." the liquid dripped down on to his face. Wind blew his hair, he could smell saIt. He smiled.
He stood up, stepped over the shining gold coins muddled with crimson red, kicked a large wooden chest to close its lid tight.
"Loosen the sails, mates! Catch the wind!"
"Ay, cap'n!" the sailors responded together. Beasley put a foot on his treasure chest. Scanned the horizon through his spyglass, his grin showing some golden some rotten teeth.
He mumbled the tune the crew was singing. "We're home~ward bound to Liverpool Town. Good bye, fare-ye-well... Good b-Blimey! Heavens!" he spat out.
There he saw, black sails and jolly roger, a white skull and a red crown. And it was bringing with it a storm, thundering and dark clouds and all.
Captain Beasley caught the wheel, "hands to braces, ye scabrous dogs!" he shouted aloud to cut the merry tune. "Slack windward brace an' sheet! Haul lee brace! Haul yer damn arses, haul! Make all!"
The ship did a 180 turn and took the storm behind. But it was closing fast. The wind growled and smelled no longer saIt. It smelled gunpowder. A cannonball barely missed the starboard deck, splashing water aboard.
Unable to lose their chaser, the captain shouted again, "Throw all 'cept the booty an' rum to the fish, mates! Yer dogs, yer parrots, yer ol' mothers if ye like!"
The ship shook with a blast, "Cap'n! Poop deck be burnin'!" Another hit, and the large mast was now falling, bringing with it a dozen of sailors and the sails of the ship.
Beasley cursed his luck, "sink me wet socks...". The storm had caught up. Waves and wind were beating on the ship so hard. Beasley had to hug the wheel to stay afoot.
The black Man-o-War was about to crash with the smaller ship, "Brace yerselves, ye fools! Batten down yer hatches!"
The coins on deck jingled with the crash. Beasley sway and fell on the large wooden chest. Hooks and ropes caught the ship, pirates were boarding with fearsome growling, harrs and arrs.
Beasley stood up to defend himself and his well earned treasure along with his crew. They drew their cutlasses and met iron with the pirates. "Don't lose yer wits an' tits, mates! Drive these beardless scallywags off, an' me'll be givin' ye me share o' gold!"
He sliced one growling pirate and kicked the other to feed the sharks circling below. Took out his musket and shot another in the gut. For a time, he and his crew were doing pretty well.
Then he heard a shout among the maddened crowd, "Haaaar! Haarr! Harrr!" It was getting gloomier, darker, smelling awfuler, a mist was filling aboard his ship.
He turned and beheld a large man with a flaming beard. A cutlass at one hand, the other replaced with a hook. Lost one hand, one foot, one eye, wearing a large hat, and over it was a colorful parrot hooting. "KILL BEASLEY CAW CAW CAW! SCALLYWAG CAW CAW!"
"Harrr, ye hornswaggler devil's cockswain! How dares ye steal me treasure?! Me's Capn' King o' the Seven High Seas, Victor Payne! An' ye be payin' today with yer rotten life! Arrrrr!"
Captain Payne swung his cutlass, Beasley dodged it with a step behind.
He swung his hook next, catching his adversary's shirt and drawing a bit of blood. Beasley's feet tangled on the chest he was guarding, and he fell on the pile of gold. Payne attacked once more, Beasley barely rolled away. Payne's cutlass had struck strong, stabbed in the wood of the deck and was stuck for a few seconds.
Beasley took advantage, gave a good kick to Payne's butt and sent him rolling down the stairs below deck. Payne was cursing, "Yer a shark bait, Beasley! Yarr! I'll be tyin' yer skin up t' the mast o' me boat!"
Taking some courage from the older captain's stumble, Beasley replied in kind, readying his cutlass for another bout, "Ye son of a biscuit eatin' milk drinkin' female seadog! Ye should've never been comin' 'ere, ye."
Beasley attacked now, pressured the pirate, "Ye always lacked sealegs, mate. Ye be a fool to be com'n 'ere e'en if ye were a two legged lan'lubber..." after a few more strikes, Payne's cutlass flew off his hand and off the ship.
"SHIVER ME TIMBERS! CAW CAW!" the parrot residing on Payne's hat hooted.
"I have ye, ye Payne in the arse!" Beasley exclaimed victoriously and pushed closer to the pirate. But Cap'n Victor Payne was not to be intimidated or bested easy. He drew out his flintlock pistol and pointed it at Beasley's sorry head.
"What ye be sayin', mate?"
"H-hey there now, sir Cap'n Payne. No need to be all unfriendly-like now... We call it a draw.. Ay?"
"It be Cap'n KING Victor Payne o' th' Hye Se'en Sees, ye hornswag! An' I be takin' me booty back an' yer life with it..." those words made Beasley gulp.
Alas, that was never going to happen. Because a lass called Linda pushed a blade through Payne's back and whispered into his ear, "Checkmate, mate..." After the ol' pirate fell down to drown in his blood, about to be locked away in Davy Jones' locker, he could barely let out, "Deus... ex... machina..."
Linda stepped on his cackle fruits to shut him up.