ZOMBIE FORUMS

It's a stinking, shambling corpse grotesquely parodying life.
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PostPosted: Sat Sep 30, 2006 3:49 pm 
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Location: Clouds, rain, and green fields...
WARNING: DO NOT MIX FANTASY SETTINGS

Side effects may include nausea, dizzines-


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PostPosted: Sun Oct 01, 2006 8:13 am 
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Latent talent exists (as per a previous discussion between Anita and her second where she's mocking the church for letting them take the best kids from the orphanages), but that doesn't mean it 'manifests' in any way without lots of training.


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PostPosted: Sun Oct 01, 2006 8:20 am 
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Wait... didn't Sara's latent talent manifest in a stressful/dangerous situation?

I thought that was HOW the monks trained the kids...

^-^'

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PostPosted: Sun Oct 01, 2006 8:36 am 
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Imp-Chan wrote:
Wait... didn't Sara's latent talent manifest in a stressful/dangerous situation?

I thought that was HOW the monks trained the kids...

^-^'

Ah! The Carrie Principal for training wielders of power. Beat them, humiliate them, kill their boyfriends and dump buckets of blood on their head, and they'll manifest enough psychic energy to burn the school down.

Not dissimilar to Marine boot camp, when you get right down to it.

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PostPosted: Sun Oct 01, 2006 11:08 am 
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Imp-Chan wrote:
Wait... didn't Sara's latent talent manifest in a stressful/dangerous situation?

I thought that was HOW the monks trained the kids...

^-^'


But they trained her first, too! >_>


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PostPosted: Sun Oct 01, 2006 1:30 pm 
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Latent ability is a possibility, of course. But saying that he cast a slowfall spell on himself and then hid the fact that he did so by grabbing the beam is <i>goddamn retarded</i>. That was pretty much the only thing I was taking issue with.

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PostPosted: Sun Oct 01, 2006 3:42 pm 
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Tossrock wrote:
Occam's Razer is a bitch.


Pretty much. I mean, friggin aliens could've intervened to slow his fall down, but it's not too damn likely.

I always feel kinda weird, applying a scientific principle to a literary context...


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PostPosted: Mon Oct 02, 2006 1:05 pm 
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Location: Nyon, CH, near Geneve, on the shores of the Lac Leman. The heart of Suisse Romande.
It's quite possible to use a technique that you don't trust... because it's the only thing you have left and you're desparate! It's more than possible that Jon doesn't trust magic because he does know how it works!

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PostPosted: Mon Oct 02, 2006 10:51 pm 
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Dude, just stop trying to justify it. It's pretty far out, even for speculation.

:-?


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PostPosted: Sat Oct 07, 2006 4:06 pm 
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This thread has given me funny ideas. As storytelling seems to be a common practice around here, I've written them down. Hope you'll enjoy it.
Any resemblances to actual persons, either living or dead, are not coincidental at all. :-)<hr>
As sunset closed in, Slamlander was strolling along the alley towards <a href="http://www.sean-o-caseys.de/">Sean O'Casey's</a> Irish Pub. He usually preferred biker bars, but he had caused a little commotion at his regular place the night before, so he was willing to give the pub a try. As he climbed the stairs to the entrance, somebody bumped into him.
"Watch it, you goddam retard!", the other person said.
"You!", said Slamlander who immediately recognized Tossrock by the elaborate choice of words. "Some people just don't get it. But I'll finish the lesson this time."
With this, Slamlander slowly withdrew from the stairs and untied the Harley-Davidson primary chain he always kept around his waist.
"This time, I'm prepared.", replied Tossrock who also backed off a few steps and unveiled an electric stun baton he was carrying under his coat.
The two were eyeing eachother, preparing for the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tachi-ai">tachi-ai</a>, slowly swinging from side to side as if dancing to a melody only they could perceive.

Suddenly, the pub door opened and a visitor appeared at the top of the stairs. It was Dubioso. He stopped breathing as he beheld the two combattants in front of the pub. That very moment, somebody said something unbelievably stupid.
"What are you two morons doing out here?", a vaguely familiar voice asked.
Slamlander slowly turned his head to the right. Tossrock slowly turned his head to the left. Dubioso's brain struggled hard against the whisky-induced mental gravity trying to keep it down. Slamlander was looking in his direction. Tossrock was looking in his direction. Somebody had just said something unbelievably stupid. The voice had sounded vaguely familiar. Dubioso's brain was not yet willing to entirely rule out the possibility of a voice actor standing right behind him, playing a very bad joke. However, it was accepting the idea of Dubioso having spoken those words himself as a working hypothesis.

Dubioso was standing at the top of a small flight of steps, keeping the higher ground against his opponents. He could kick one of them on the chin. He could put a drop-kick against one's chest, hitting his fist into the other's face as he was hovering for a split second in mid-air. He could jump behind one of them, which would shield him from the other as he would kick against some shinbone, put a knee into some groin, or direct a head-butt at some face. He could jump right between the two, then duck as they came rushing towards him, letting them bump their heads against eachother, afterwards going for their private parts.
The options to take out his opponents were unlimited. Luckily, Dubioso's brain had years of mathematical training which could not be overcome by a few glasses of single malt scotch whisky. Within milliseconds, probability theory yielded the optimal course of action, and Dubioso wasted no time in following it. He dashed right between the two and made a run for the side street branching out across from Sean O'Casey's Irish Pub. When he passed between them, Slamlander's and Tossrock's gazes interlocked. It took them only a few moments to agree that getting their hands on Dubioso was much more important than the little struggle they had had in mind before. But as Dubioso's brain had infallibly deduced, those few moments bought him enough time to get a headstart.

Slamlander and Tossrock chased after Dubioso, with Slamlander taking the lead. At this time of day, there were only few people on the street, and those easily managed to get out of the way. It was not an unusual thing for them to see somebody being chased from the pub to the river. Neither would it be an unusual thing to find two corpses downstream the next morning.
Dubioso was drawing near the end of the side street, where a bannister blocked the way. The side street was situated two or there meters above the level of the riverside lane, with stairs leading down to the left and right. Dubioso chose the stairs to the right, Slamlander following close on his heels. Tossrock had fallen back a few meters. At the end of the stairs, Dubioso cut back to the left, heading for the bridge crossing the river there.
A shriek pierced the air. At the upper left edge of his field of vision, Dubioso caught sight of Tossrock hanging horizontally in the air. He must have jumped over the bannister kung-fu style and was plunging at Dubioso from above. It was hard to tell whether the shriek was supposed to support the attack or just a reaction of Tossrock suddenly finding himself more than three meters above ground level, going down. Tossrock missed Dubioso by a narrow margin, hitting the ground running between Dubioso and Slamlander. He grabbed Dubioso at the collar of his coat.
Having just reached the start of the bridge, Dubioso made a sudden cut to the right. Tossrock was still running full speed onto the bridge, while Dubioso went down towards the riverside, bringing the balustrade between them. Tossrock had to let go of the collar. Dubioso immediately headed upstream, still being chased by Slamlander.

As Dubioso was running along the river, he felt the pain rising in his legs and lungs. "Pain is just an illusion.", he tried to convince himself. "There are electrical impulses running along the nerves from your muscles to your brain. They're just signals. They're only interpreted as pain, nothing more. They're telling your brain that it would be better to slow down. But those legs are just lazy bastards, they can go further. And the same applies for the burning sensation in your lungs. Just electrical impulses. Signals. Your brain is conditioned to follow these impulses, to obey those signals under normal circumstances. But these are no normal circumstances at all. It is OK to ignore them for now. Just keep moving your legs, and the lungs for sure won't stop breathing. Lift a leg, bring it down. Lift the other leg, bring it down. Lift up, bring down. Lift up, bring down. Keep pumping. Pumping. Pumping. Bass keeps pumping, pumping, pumping. Bass keeps pumping."
"Hell, this is no time to think about House music. Or maybe it is. Get into the rhythm. Go with the beat. Pumping, pumping, pumping, bass keeps pumping, pumping, pumping. Get into the flow. Pumping, pumping. Move your feet to the rhythm. Breathe with the rhythm. Pumping, pumping, pumping, bass keeps pumping, pumping, pumping."
Ever so slowly, Dubioso was inching away from Slamlander. Slamlander's Elk skin boots were obviously not designed for long runs. It also seemed that the Harley-Davidson primary chain he used to wear around his waist served a double purpose as a secondary belt. Without it, Slamlander's pants were coming loose, slowing him down further. But he didn't let go. He was on fire and intended to quench it with Dubioso.

So they were running upstream, the river to their left, following it's gentle bend to the left. They had passed the buildings on this side of the river. Darkness was lurking ahead. And right there in the middle, an even darker spot grew as they came closer. The factory.
A decade ago, the factory was prospering, providing employment for a hundred people or more. Until the incident. Some chemicals had leaked into the river, poisoning the water supply for the whole city. The damages ruined the factory, and it had to close down. There were still lawsuits pending about who would get posession of the realty, and who would pay for disposal of the remaining dangerous wastes. Meanwhile, the barrels holding those wastes, still stored on the premises, were waiting for corrosion to take it's course so they could empty their contents into the river once more.
A fence had been put up around the factory. At the riverside, it extended a few meters into the water. No way for Dubioso to pass there. Nor could he climb the fence with Slamlander that close behind him. To the right were plain fields. If he went there, Slamlander would shortcut the way and catch him. No good either.
Dubioso's only chance to avoid a direct confrontation was the bridge. The last bridge before the factory. It had been built when the factory was doing well, for the workers living on the other side of the river. A concrete arch spanning the river, wide enough for two or three people to walk abreast, with steel railings in an industrial design that was considered modern at the time.
Dubioso reached the bridge, while Slamlander slowed down behind him. Dubioso entered the bridge and ran across. Slamlander stopped where the bridge touched the ground, pulling his pants up and wrapping his Harly-Davidson primary chain around his wrist. With great deliberation, cog side out.

As Dubioso sped towards the other end of the bridge, he became aware of a silhouette standing there. Tossrock! Dubioso jerked to a halt, grabbing a railpost in order to stop even faster. How did Tossrock get there? Instead of stopping when he had to let go of Dubioso's collar back at the other bridge, he must have crossed there and followed the chase on the other side of the river. As the river was bending left, Tossrock had been able to take a shortcut. Not hindered by his pants coming loose, he also seemed to be a faster runner than Slamlander, once he got to speed. But however he did it, he was there, right in front of Dubioso, blocking the road to safety.
Overcome by panic, Dubioso spun around and started running back to the other side of the bridge. Of course Slamlander was waiting there for him. In the middle of the bridge, Dubioso became aware of that and spun around again. Tossrock! Turn. Slamlander! Turn. Tossrock! Dubioso regained control of himself and decided to try something new. He stood with his back to the railing, grasping it with both hands. From the corner of his left eye, he could see Slamlander. From the corner of his right eye, Tossrock. The situation hadn't improved much, but at least earth was no longer spinning around him. His heart was beating hard, reverberating in his head. Some people believe that vacuum tube amplifiers are top of the line. But there's nothing like the single malt scotch amplified sound of your own heartbeat when it comes to beating the living shit out of your brain.
Slamlander and Tossrock were now slowly closing in on him. Both had their arms spread out wide. Slamlander was knocking at the railings as he approached. Pleng, left hand. CLING, right hand. The chain. Tossrock held the electric stun baton in his right hand. He moved it closer to the railing, sending arcs of blue sparks across. Bzzzz. In his left hand, he held something that Dubioso didn't recognize. And better it was, for Tossrock was holding a pack of spare batteries. He really was prepared this time. Pleng. Bzzzz. CLING! Bzzzz. Pleng. Bzzzz. CLING! Mesmerized, Dubioso noticed that single malt scotch amplification worked on auxiliary input, too. CLING!

Once again, Dubioso's brain was evaluating the options. If he were trapped by either opponent in a dead end alley, he could have run him down. But that was no use in this situation. Either one would delay him long enough for the other one to enter the fight. No escape to the left. No escape to the right. No help from above. Only one way to go down.
As Dubioso climbed on the railing, Tossrock and Slamlander charged at him. They did not want to let him get off that easily. Tossrock reached him first and managed to grab one of Dubioso's trouser legs. He couldn't hold him, but the grip was enough to put Dubioso into rotation. Instead of plunging into the river feet first, Dubioso hit the surface flat with his face.
As Dubioso got back to the surface after the plunge, his burning red face was the least of his problems. Of course he could swim, but he usually did that wearing a bathing suit. Now he was in full dress, the wet clothes dragging him down, the shoes inhibiting most of the impetus he might have generated with his feet. A piece of wood floated nearby in the river. Dubioso grabbed it, hoping for additional buoyancy. Instead he went down, because he could no longer use both of his hands to keep afloat. Several seconds later, his head broke through the surface again. He had managed to jam the wood under his chest, the current carrying him back towards the city.

Tossrock and Slamlander were standing in the middle of the bridge, watching Dubioso drifting away.
"Too bad.", said Slamlander. "We could have had so much fun with him."
"It would have gotten boring eventually.", Tossrock replied.
"I guess you're right. By the way, that was a mighty jump back there."
"Thanks, I've practiced that. You were giving a great chase as well. I've never seen anybody run that fast with his pants coming off."
"Thanks, I did not practice that. Let's get back to the pub and have a drink."
"Yeah, let's do that."

A quarter of an hour later, at the other end of the city, Dubioso was climbing out of the river. There were rungs in the quay wall at that place, probably to allow inspection of the sewer pipe emptying into the river there. But he had been in no position to be picky about his means of escape. With his clothes dragging him down and the cold of the water creeping into his limbs, he was lucky to have made it to the quay at all. Somewhere in the river he had gotten rid of his shoes. He wouldn't have made it so far otherwise.
While he was wringing the water out of his clothes, Dubioso was talking to himself in a low voice. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! This was such a wonderful evening while I was in the pub, drinking myself through the whisky selection. What went wrong? Fuck! Now my clothes are wet and stinking, and I've lost my shoes. Fuck! My car is parked near the pub, I sure as hell won't go there again this night. Fuck! Yeah, tell me about drinking and driving. This bath in the river has made me more sober than I ever was in my whole life. Fuck! With these clothes, no taxi driver in the world will give me a ride. Fuck! I'll have to walk home barefoot. Fuck! And I can't even think of some original swearwords. Fuck! FUCK! FUCK!!! And where are my keys anyway? Oh no, I've lost them. Shit, how am I going to get into the house?"
After this outbreak, Dubioso wearily started on his long way home.

Meanwhile, Tossrock and Slamlander were back at the entrance of Sean O'Casey's Irish Pub. The music was playing so loud that they had no problems to hear it outside. They both recognized the melody. They both knew the lyrics. They looked at eachother and broke out in uncontrollable fits of laughter. It was a song by the Black Eyed Peas, and the crowd in the pub was shouting the chorus at the top of their voices:
"<a href="http://www.blackeyedpeas.com/home/albums/336">Let's get retarde-he-hed. Let's get retarded in here!</a>"
Side by side they entered the pub, not knowing whether they would ever be able to stop laughing long enough to put in a drink.

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<a href="http://forums.kyhm.com/viewtopic.php?t=9393">DNI'ed</a> by Impy <a href="http://forums.kyhm.com/viewtopic.php?t=9340&start=22">while</a> being <a href="http://forums.kyhm.com/viewtopic.php?t=9372&start=30">initiated</a> by Insane_Megalamaniac.


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PostPosted: Sun Oct 08, 2006 5:16 pm 
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I found that astonishingly entertaining. Good work.

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PostPosted: Sun Oct 08, 2006 5:17 pm 
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Toss and Slam, the Action-Packed Action-Verbs!

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PostPosted: Sun Oct 08, 2006 8:06 pm 
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That has got to be the funniest thing I've read all week. Well done. I laughed my ass off.


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PostPosted: Mon Oct 09, 2006 3:49 am 
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Too funny!



:lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol:

A+ for creativity!

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PostPosted: Tue Oct 10, 2006 7:07 am 
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Thanks. I'll remember this next time some funny ideas get into my head :-)

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<a href="http://forums.kyhm.com/viewtopic.php?t=9393">DNI'ed</a> by Impy <a href="http://forums.kyhm.com/viewtopic.php?t=9340&start=22">while</a> being <a href="http://forums.kyhm.com/viewtopic.php?t=9372&start=30">initiated</a> by Insane_Megalamaniac.


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