Post by Kyzer on Jun 8, 2014 17:36:03 GMT -5
The Midget and Stacks of Cash
Date: 6/1/2014
There isn’t anything sweeter and more cherubic than the face of a smiling, happy, midget. And none are more precious than the face of DMK. He couldn’t be any more smiles after the past few weeks he has had. He sits on his couch staring the stacks of cash that line it. He casually counts the money while watching the latest episode of Hell’s Kitchen. He stops counting briefly while Gordon Ramsey verbally eviscerates one of the chef wannabes. DMK howls with laughter at the scene. His little leg comes up in his fit of laughter and kicks the table knocking cash everywhere.
DMK: Goddammit! F~ck you, Ramsey!
His face quickly changes to anger and rage. He drops off the couch and starts grabbing cash when a knock at the door stops him. He quickly reaches under one of his couch cushions and pulls out one of his many, handguns. He walks towards the door slowly, not expecting company, he is on high alert. He reaches the door, with his gun pointed at it, he calls out.
DMK: Who’s there?
“The Thrall.”
DMK lowers the gun and opens the door. Ducking, to pass through the door frame, Tugarin Zmey enters the home of DMK. DMK shuts the door behind the giant and walks back to the pills of money. Casually tossing his pistol on the couch he goes back to picking up the cash. Tugarin glances around before taking a step towards the little man.
Tugarin: I didn’t find him.
DMK stops and looks up at the man who stands twice as tall.
DMK: You went to all the places that I told you about.
Tugarin: The house was razed to the ground. A pylon of melted iron was the only remnant amongst the rubble. The girl at the university claimed she has not seen him and I discovered nothing at the other locations either.
A mixture of concern and irritation overcomes DMK.
DMK: I guess the next thing we do is go to the brother and see what he knows before we run out of options and have to do something dangerous.
DMK turns back to the money while he ponders his next move. Tugarin stands solemnly saying nothing.
DMK: F~ck, I don’t want to go talk to that fanatic.
He looks up at Tugarin as he picks up the last of the cash and places it on the table.
DMK: We will have to wait to visit him though. That is a trip that is going to take a few days. Until then we will just turn our focus towards the next thing. You next opponent has been announced on our path to fame.
Tugarin: Your path. Fame has no meaning to me.
DMK eyes him strangely and then laughs.
DMK: You are one strange f~ck. You are up against more fresh meat. We need to make our bones against something with a little reputation. This isn’t going to get us anywhere fast. We need to make a name and soon. My associations aren’t going to help us yet.
Tugarin: I will do what I must to accomplish your goals.
DMK: You are the perfect soldier. Why anyone let you go is beyond me, but I am not going to complain. We are the perfect team, my man. You hit ‘em high and I hit ‘em low.
Tugarin: I have no purpose beyond what is given to me.
DMK: I will never understand you or why you are the way you are. But he will be curious if we can find him. He loves mysteries like that and whatnot.
DMK hops back on the couch and starts watching his show again.
DMK: You like Ramsey?
Tugarin glances at the television but none of it means anything to him.
Tugarin: I do not know what a Ramsey is.
DMK: You are missing out bro. He is a Brit who likes to make people cry. It is television gold.
Tugarin: Is there anything else you require?
DMK glances over his shoulder.
DMK:You are good bro. Go do whatever it is you do in your free time, punch babies, kill cats or whatever you Asians do.
Tugarin doesn’t respond instead opting for an immediate exit from the room.
DMK: What a weird f~cker…
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The Legend of the Mongolian Death Worm Part 1
Date 10/--/--
The air hits my face, and I immediately feel that cold burn. Wrapped in furs, my face remains the only exposed area to the elements. Even wrapped, I could still very easily freeze to death. It isn’t anything I haven’t had to deal with before though. These are the elements I grew up in. My feet hit the sand, only slightly sinking in with each step. I have learned how to move briskly over the cold sands over the years. My ears listen for predators that I can’t see in the darkness. I push fast and blind, relying on instincts that I know where I am going. The wind slowly picks up as it begins to howl around me. Cold sand hitting me in the face becomes just another annoyance. The urgency of my task forces me to just push these things out of my mind. I come to a dune and begin the trek up. I start to hear noise on the other side. Not the noise I am expecting either. I push harder, faster. A scream causes my muscles to work harder and my feet to move faster. I am nearly at the top of the dune when the noise stops. I cross the top and leap to expedite my way down. I see a form a little ways from the bottom of the dune lying motionless on the ground. I reach the form and before I can see the face, a familiar scent hits my face. My eyes instantly water at the dreadful thought that enters my mind. It is a woman and she is face down in the sand. My fears are realized even before looking into her eyes. I roll her over and it is exactly like a nightmare.
“Sarangerel…”
Blood pours from a gash across her throat, her eyes lay closed as life has always left her body. A tear rolls down my face. I can’t fathom this; this is all too much at once. Why is she here? Who did this? Who would do this? She was a delicate flower; she was a beacon of light in a world of darkness. For someone to snuff that out, they would have to first remove their soul. I hold her as mourning is starting to hit me. I picture her face as I saw it this morning when I left our camp. What was she doing this far out though? She knew this isn’t a safe area. Suddenly I feel something in the air, instinct tells me that someone is out in the darkness. I lay her head back on the ground and move my hand to the blade on my hip. Movement behind me alerts my senses. I pull the blade and turn on heel to whatever is behind me. I am not quick enough as I turn only to be caught by a blade tearing through the flesh on my face. I stumble backwards as I feel the warm flow of blood begin to pour from the wound. My vision is clouded out of one eye but I can still make out the figure. I take a step forward only to stumble down to my knees. I realize that a knife is sunk in to the hilt in my leg rendering it too weak to support me. The figure stands just far enough away that I can’t see who it is. I hear a laugh before the figure disappears into the darkness. I pull the knife out of my leg as the blood pours even fast from that wound.
“This is not how I am going to perish…”
I say the words aloud hoping they will give me the strength to move. I feel the adrenaline push through my body. I force myself to a standing position before I realize that I am losing feeling everywhere. I take one step forward and crash headfirst into the sand. I feel the blood leaving my body but I cannot do anything to stop it. My muscles won’t respond, my brain tells my arms to move but they don’t. I can only lay there. Sarangerel lies within sight. I can’t even move my head to take my eyes off the heartbreaking sight of her. Soon enough the darkness consumes everything and she fades to black.
Date: 6/1/2014
There isn’t anything sweeter and more cherubic than the face of a smiling, happy, midget. And none are more precious than the face of DMK. He couldn’t be any more smiles after the past few weeks he has had. He sits on his couch staring the stacks of cash that line it. He casually counts the money while watching the latest episode of Hell’s Kitchen. He stops counting briefly while Gordon Ramsey verbally eviscerates one of the chef wannabes. DMK howls with laughter at the scene. His little leg comes up in his fit of laughter and kicks the table knocking cash everywhere.
DMK: Goddammit! F~ck you, Ramsey!
His face quickly changes to anger and rage. He drops off the couch and starts grabbing cash when a knock at the door stops him. He quickly reaches under one of his couch cushions and pulls out one of his many, handguns. He walks towards the door slowly, not expecting company, he is on high alert. He reaches the door, with his gun pointed at it, he calls out.
DMK: Who’s there?
“The Thrall.”
DMK lowers the gun and opens the door. Ducking, to pass through the door frame, Tugarin Zmey enters the home of DMK. DMK shuts the door behind the giant and walks back to the pills of money. Casually tossing his pistol on the couch he goes back to picking up the cash. Tugarin glances around before taking a step towards the little man.
Tugarin: I didn’t find him.
DMK stops and looks up at the man who stands twice as tall.
DMK: You went to all the places that I told you about.
Tugarin: The house was razed to the ground. A pylon of melted iron was the only remnant amongst the rubble. The girl at the university claimed she has not seen him and I discovered nothing at the other locations either.
A mixture of concern and irritation overcomes DMK.
DMK: I guess the next thing we do is go to the brother and see what he knows before we run out of options and have to do something dangerous.
DMK turns back to the money while he ponders his next move. Tugarin stands solemnly saying nothing.
DMK: F~ck, I don’t want to go talk to that fanatic.
He looks up at Tugarin as he picks up the last of the cash and places it on the table.
DMK: We will have to wait to visit him though. That is a trip that is going to take a few days. Until then we will just turn our focus towards the next thing. You next opponent has been announced on our path to fame.
Tugarin: Your path. Fame has no meaning to me.
DMK eyes him strangely and then laughs.
DMK: You are one strange f~ck. You are up against more fresh meat. We need to make our bones against something with a little reputation. This isn’t going to get us anywhere fast. We need to make a name and soon. My associations aren’t going to help us yet.
Tugarin: I will do what I must to accomplish your goals.
DMK: You are the perfect soldier. Why anyone let you go is beyond me, but I am not going to complain. We are the perfect team, my man. You hit ‘em high and I hit ‘em low.
Tugarin: I have no purpose beyond what is given to me.
DMK: I will never understand you or why you are the way you are. But he will be curious if we can find him. He loves mysteries like that and whatnot.
DMK hops back on the couch and starts watching his show again.
DMK: You like Ramsey?
Tugarin glances at the television but none of it means anything to him.
Tugarin: I do not know what a Ramsey is.
DMK: You are missing out bro. He is a Brit who likes to make people cry. It is television gold.
Tugarin: Is there anything else you require?
DMK glances over his shoulder.
DMK:You are good bro. Go do whatever it is you do in your free time, punch babies, kill cats or whatever you Asians do.
Tugarin doesn’t respond instead opting for an immediate exit from the room.
DMK: What a weird f~cker…
=============================================================
=============================================================
=============================================================
The Legend of the Mongolian Death Worm Part 1
Date 10/--/--
The air hits my face, and I immediately feel that cold burn. Wrapped in furs, my face remains the only exposed area to the elements. Even wrapped, I could still very easily freeze to death. It isn’t anything I haven’t had to deal with before though. These are the elements I grew up in. My feet hit the sand, only slightly sinking in with each step. I have learned how to move briskly over the cold sands over the years. My ears listen for predators that I can’t see in the darkness. I push fast and blind, relying on instincts that I know where I am going. The wind slowly picks up as it begins to howl around me. Cold sand hitting me in the face becomes just another annoyance. The urgency of my task forces me to just push these things out of my mind. I come to a dune and begin the trek up. I start to hear noise on the other side. Not the noise I am expecting either. I push harder, faster. A scream causes my muscles to work harder and my feet to move faster. I am nearly at the top of the dune when the noise stops. I cross the top and leap to expedite my way down. I see a form a little ways from the bottom of the dune lying motionless on the ground. I reach the form and before I can see the face, a familiar scent hits my face. My eyes instantly water at the dreadful thought that enters my mind. It is a woman and she is face down in the sand. My fears are realized even before looking into her eyes. I roll her over and it is exactly like a nightmare.
“Sarangerel…”
Blood pours from a gash across her throat, her eyes lay closed as life has always left her body. A tear rolls down my face. I can’t fathom this; this is all too much at once. Why is she here? Who did this? Who would do this? She was a delicate flower; she was a beacon of light in a world of darkness. For someone to snuff that out, they would have to first remove their soul. I hold her as mourning is starting to hit me. I picture her face as I saw it this morning when I left our camp. What was she doing this far out though? She knew this isn’t a safe area. Suddenly I feel something in the air, instinct tells me that someone is out in the darkness. I lay her head back on the ground and move my hand to the blade on my hip. Movement behind me alerts my senses. I pull the blade and turn on heel to whatever is behind me. I am not quick enough as I turn only to be caught by a blade tearing through the flesh on my face. I stumble backwards as I feel the warm flow of blood begin to pour from the wound. My vision is clouded out of one eye but I can still make out the figure. I take a step forward only to stumble down to my knees. I realize that a knife is sunk in to the hilt in my leg rendering it too weak to support me. The figure stands just far enough away that I can’t see who it is. I hear a laugh before the figure disappears into the darkness. I pull the knife out of my leg as the blood pours even fast from that wound.
“This is not how I am going to perish…”
I say the words aloud hoping they will give me the strength to move. I feel the adrenaline push through my body. I force myself to a standing position before I realize that I am losing feeling everywhere. I take one step forward and crash headfirst into the sand. I feel the blood leaving my body but I cannot do anything to stop it. My muscles won’t respond, my brain tells my arms to move but they don’t. I can only lay there. Sarangerel lies within sight. I can’t even move my head to take my eyes off the heartbreaking sight of her. Soon enough the darkness consumes everything and she fades to black.
I dont know good luck