so featherdumper, you've finally decided to come up with a name for me huh? it's so very funneh. and harassing you? because I've what, posted a response to you a half dozen times in the last 6 months? OH NO! you are the self proclaimed writing/fiction perfectionist. by all of which should be judged. you went into the regular part of the forums, ran your trap, bashed into submission. you're "numb" but haven't been the same since. so please, I'd LOVE for you to become active around the forums again. I think we'd have a blast!
I can post wherever I want garbo. Life has been really amazing for me lately and I don't plan on letting a little troll ruin that.
Hmmmm. Haven't been the same since... Since what? Since they kidnapped me? Tried to kill me? Tortured me? Maybe that's why they did this to me, gave me this new personality, this new... opalo, as Opali calls it. thanks garbo. By saying that, I might just be able to wrap up a story arc I'm working on... None of that happened to me, btw. It happened to a character... Long story.
Warning. Spoiler. I'm trying out third person... ---------- Legends of Kingdoms at War - Feather Hunter's Version Part One — The Land Chapter Four: Terrible Burdens ---------- Like a child, Winters clung to the window in fear, his hands curling around the curtains -- He couldn’t stop moving. Peeking through Irin’s blinds, Winter gazed up at the angry storm clouds. Deep shades of grey and black swirled high in the sky, the makings of a disastrous storm. Something in the maelstrom seemed to be reflecting the Moon’s light, causing a feeling of dread to slowly settle over him. “What is that?” He asked, turning away from the window when his question was met with silence. Cold stares greeted him as he turned. “What’d I do?” He inquired, wondering why everyone was treating him like a pariah. “I understand I've gone for awhile but--” “It is not you, Winters. It is what you are able to see that scares us all.” A small boy with a baby-like face replied. “What do you mean?” Winters asked the boy, moving his cloak to the side a little to expose his daggers. “No need for that.” A voice whispered in Winters' ear. Winters whirled around, his hand reaching for a dagger. Where are they? He thought when his fingers met only empty space. “Looking for these?” He looked up, an amused face meeting his questioning gaze. “They call meOpali, the one with many souls. You can call me Karl, or Shock, or... Anyway, the reason you scare everyone,” Karl paused, running a hand through his dark hair, “Is because only the Oracle is gifted with prophetic abilities, and you have them, yet you are not the Oracle. Winters stared at the ground, avoiding Karl's eyes. “We all know you wouldn't hit a child, by the way.” The boy said from behind Winters, sliding his weapon belt onto his shoulder. “It's me, Karl. I guess you know why they call me the one with many souls.” Winter looked up slowly, but Karl wasn't there. The baby-faced boy stood in his place. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ -Two Days after the Death of the Feather- “Death is truly remarkable; to have the only thing tethering your soul to your body destroyed... It scars you. I have several scars on my soul, each one representing a moment in time where another one of my souls, which I call opalo, the Ancients word for tethered soul. My opalo are tethered to my actual soul. Now, the difference between me and Shifter is that he changes form, but my entire personality and body chan--” Irin shut the door to the pre-writing room, allowing Winters and the other people in the café some freedom to talk. “Sorry everyone, Karl is writing a book about the difference between him and Shifter and how he got his abilities, which reminds me,” Irin glanced at Winters. “How exactly did you acquire your abilities?” Winters put down the Sunday's paper - the Fan Fiction Journal - and replied, “Feather should be back by now. Ahdragos told us he sent him to Swabia. If someone doesn't willingly stop me from looking at them, I am able to see them, even if they are halfway across the world. It's all about the power of the mind.” ~~~~~~~~~~ - Minutes later - Irin watched a closed-eyed Winters. He'd been calmly searching for Feather a moment ago. Now, he was struggling, his eyelids squinched together tightly. A small amount of blood ran down from his nose, and he wiped at it peevishly, a red stain spreadly slowly across the white cuff of his black shirt. Irin looked on as his eyes fluttered open. “I can't find him.” Winters gasped, his chest heaving. He looked around, his eyes searching for Irin. “Irin, I can't find him! I can't see him, either. It's like he no longer exists.” Irin looked at him with mild concern. “Has this ever happened to you before?” Winters, his hair going from winter ice white to a dark black color, replied: “No.” “Then it's settled. We're going to look for him.” Irin went into the through the double doors into the kitchen. “I call this pen Leigh,” Irin said as she returned, flashing her pen. Irin looked on as Winters examined it. “What's so special about it? It's just a pen.” said Winters, discarding it onto the table. “Look around you, Winters.” Irin said imperatively. “Tell me what you see.” Winters did turned in circle, taking in his surroundings. Irin smiled as he said, “Well, obviously I'm in a cafè. I'm sitting at a bar. There is a menu in front of me with different selections. The kitchen,” He nodded towards the double doors behind Irin, “Is behind you. To my left is a corridor. If you walk down it, you'll encounter two doorways that lead to rooms; the first being the prewriting room, the second being library. To my right is another corridor; two doorways, each leading to a restroom, one for males, another for females.” Winters paused, looking at Irin quizzically. Irin never could figure out how he was able to raise only one eyebrow. “Behind me are numerous tables, which some could say were at the back of the café because they are farthest from the entrance, while others would say they are at the front because they are nearer to the bar and the kitchen.” “Aren't you going to ask me why I requested you do this?” Irin asked Winters, reaching across the bar and putting a hand on his shoulder. “I was getting to that,” He mumbled. “With this pen, I can draw what you just described. With this pen, I can write a detailed description of what I drew. With this pen, I can be creative. You seem to have forgotten that. You seem to have lost some of your memory, too. When you were five and I was seven, I would make you describe our surroundings wherever we went. How do you think you got into the Thinkers?” ~~~~~~~~~ “So, you're saying you were the one who did this to me?” Winters groaned as they trekked through the snow. “Of course not,” Irin replied harshly. “I don't know who did this to you. I only helped you to see the beauty of your surroundings. When we were children, you were so... Distant. Having your parents die made you retreat from our world. It made you hate life. Then you saw Melon paint for the first time. That's when we discovered that you still had some happiness inside you.” Winters stopped and stared at Irin. “I wanted to be a painter, didn't I?”
I stand by normal standards and you should too. Please Feather, don't go into egotistical arsehole with stick shoved up butthole mode again. Well, more so than normally.
I could say some really hurtful things to you, Para. Really hurtful. But I make conscious decisions not to. You see, you being you and me being me, well, oil and water don't mix. It's natural for you to have animosity towards me when your words don't phase me.
Stop. Both of you. This is the Internet. Arguments are for political forums and 4chan. KaW is for minimally civilized people. Act like it.
Cheese, honestly, I don't know why this dude keeps trying to initiate arguments! I've let go of all that stuff that was weighing me down in life. I guess he's just insecure and feels like he's an outcast still.
featherduster has always thought he was mr perfectionist. him posting that large "sneak peek" in here shows how much of an over confident douche bag that he is. his only defense to me is calling me a "troll". if life's SO GOOD, you should go back to it. one should always want to go to where they are actually welcome.
I'm welcome any place I choose to go. You see, Garbo, the problem with you is that you feel like you need to talk bad about everybody. Just enjoy the internet, dude. It's a luxury.