Wroodles - Writing Doodles
Ever get that urge to write, but you don't really have the skill, or time, to write a book or short story? In this game you write a few sentences up too a paragraph or two, because, why not? And there's a prize for the best wroodle. Maybe. You might get a plastic trophy. They will be held in competitions, each one having a category such as Tragedy, Fight Scene, Or Dramatic. Good luck!
First Competetion - Fight Scene! Winner - Jukka
Comp 2 - Supernaturaul - Winner - Skarz/Jet
Comp 3 - Gloomy/Foreboding - Winner - Jet
Comp 4 - A Nice Cozy Scene - Winner - No Answer
Non-professional authors have a word for pointless writing, which is drabbles
Does it count as a fight scene if it's just one uber-powerful being absolutely owning everything else? What about a verbal battle?
'Hello. I am a Wizard of 20th level. Fireball, fireball, fireball. Goodbye.'
The empty suit of armor slowly began rising as if pulled by invisible strings. It righted itself, faced the travelers, and began to speak: "........."
It didn't have a mouth.
The twin blades flashed as the warrior launched himself at his foe. Their swords met in a shower of sparks, and chaos began.
The squirrelmaid leaped from the tree and swung her sword at her opponent, a powerfully-built sable. He countered her blow with a swing that jarred her sword arm painfully. Gritting her teeth, she backed off for a second, but her opponent came after her. Her arm still hurting from the blow, the squirrelmaid swiped at him but missed. However, the sable's blow did not, and it bit deep into his opponent. The maiden clutched her side and stumbled back, blood trickling between her fingers as the sable advanced for the final blow...
Ya'know, the scenes don't have to be THAT short, scenes about aslong as Jukka's should be fine.
It counts as a fight scene aslong as there is fighting. So an all powerful guy counts.
So, me versus you. We're standing on top of a cliff. I've got a sword, and you've got a machine gun. You try to shoot me, but I deflect all of the bullets back at your gun, breaking it. So you drop it, and then you come running at me, screaming. I step to the side, and you run into a tree behind me. It almost knocks you out, but not quite... you're dazed, but come running at me again. I step to the side, and you almost fall over the cliff, but you manage to get your hand on the edge, to hold you up. I try to help you and pull you back up, but with your spare hand, you take out a knife and stab my hand with it, snarling "I'd rather die than be helped by you!" I try to hold on, in spite of the knife wounds, but I lose my grip and you fall to your death below.
Jukka Wins. Congrats!! :D
Next Category - Supernaturaul (Doesn't have to be ghosts. Can been djinn, gods, etc)
Michael peered out of the window, his enhanced vision following the vampire as he sprinted down the street away from the warehouse. He threw off his jacket and started unbuttoning his shirt, the Collective members stared at him in shock "Mr. Smith, what on earth do you think you're doing?" asked an incredulous Moore
"I don't want to rip this stuff, it's tailor-made"
"What?"
"Think about it, none of you have any chance of catching up to that leech"
"That does not explain why you are taking your clothes off!"
Michael's shirt joined his jacket on the floor "Would you just relax? I know what I'm doing"
"If you start removing your trousers, I'll be forced to stun you"
"Lucky for me I have no intention of doing that then, isn't it?" Michael dropped to all fours and bounded towards the window, as he did so, fur sprouted from his body, his face elongated, his ears growing and becoming more pointed "You'd better take that stuff back to my apartment!" He leaped out of the window, leaving his trousers lying on the warehouse floor as his legs elongated and became slimmer. His transformation was complete by the time he hit the ground, landing on his front two paws and speeding off in pursuit of the vampire. James smirked as Moore stared out after Michael "Did we forget to mention he was a werecat?" he made his way over to Michael's jacket and extracted the werecat's prized revolver from the pocket "He probably should have taken this, Dimitri's no pushover. Still, it gives me a good advantage for the next hive" He slipped the revolver into his pocket along with some bullets that he had also found, he turned to Moore "I hope you won't mind if I leave Michael's stuff in your car"
"Fine, but if he's walking around naked by the end of the day, he's spending another night in the cells"
"It's fine, Michael will stay a cat for as long as he needs to"
"Then how's he supposed to fight a vampire?"
"With great skill and cunning"
"Does he possess either?"
"Not really no"
Moore groaned
As the thirteenth toll of the bell rang, the corpse strode out of the mausoleum and into the midnight shadow, moaning in hunger... And then remembered that it was dead, and fell to the ground.
A crevice appeared in the ground, growing larger and rending the earth around it like some foul wound. Dark claws tore at the edges of the rift, opening it wider for the worlds of the living and the demons to meet. Screams filled the air, the terrible sounds emitting from the gap. Shapes tried desperately to claw their way out, but were drawn back as their power was not enough.
One shape, huge and shadowy, finally burst forth from the glowing doorway into the abyss. He was more powerful than the other demons, whose weakness was already forcing the rift to close. Blood red eyes and smoking mouth turned upward, where another light was showing. It grew to such brilliance that even this demon had to cover his eyes from the sight, snarling behind his arms at the terrible light. From this point of brightness another form emerged, equally powerful and terrible, but also holding great glory.
The demon screamed at this creature, slashing the air with his claws and cursing the sight of it. The bright being surged down, drawing a great sword that was wrapped in flame. As the two struck, a sound as of thunder erupted from their impact, the sword of one hitting the claws of the other. Immediately they were locked in combat, slashing, turning, attacking, but neither one ever giving way to the other.
Suddenly, the demon lashed out at the chest of the bright creature, hitting him back with rays of light shining from the place where he was struck. Laughing, the dark beast lunged forward to finish off his opponent. But even as he jumped, the other rose from the ground in a light brighter than the sun, stunning the demon. The light creature continued to rise, then, with lightening flashing from his eyes, he sped downward his sword raised. He did not strike down the demon, but instead rent the space behind him.
It was a moment before the demon realized what he had done, when the burning edges of a rift could be seen growing in size. He screamed, trying to claw away from the opening, but to no avail. No amount of struggling could stop the demon from being dragged back into the hellish oblivion he had come from.
Oh, it's so close! Skarz has such good scene writing, but Jet's conversation is so good! I declare a tie!
Also, as for our new category (Gloomy/Foreboding) Fo not make it sad or tragic but more.. Menlancholy, Foreboding, Gloomy, etc. (Example: A swamp, a rundown city, a dreary day.)
Reina plodded through the wet forest, her memories enveloping her like a shroud. Memories of her family, before Creulon came. The ferretmaid walked on, head bowed, her surroundings seeming strangely appropriate for her frame of mind. Rain found its way through the foliage, splashing down on her bare head. She wiped water from her eyes and looked up, peering ahead into the rain-soaked woods.
A river lay quite close. At a glance Reina saw it was far too swollen to cross. Muttering something that wasn't exactly polite, the ferretmaid changed her course, deciding to follow the river upstream. It didn't matter where she was headed. She was bent on vengeance, and had been so for four seasons; searching for that fox was the sole purpose of her life. Even though she had not the least idea where he might be, she was not going to give up.
Adjusting her satchel strap on her shoulder, Reina kept going, her footpaws squelching in the mud. She barely paid attention to the fact that, after a while, the rain began to slacken. And when the sun finally burst forth from behind a cloud, she continued on, oblivious, her thoughts swirling around her.
((So... I hope that was melancholy enough.... It was a snippet from the life of my RP character before the events of Anywhere Is: An Anything Goes RP, in case anyone's wondering.))
Aril walked through the dark forest, cutting a trail with his machete. Dark birds squawked overhead, spooked by the noise that Aril and his group made. He had been traveling for days and yet never seemed to get any closer to his destination. He would not have signed up for the trip if he knew it was going to be this long and tedious, and he was beginning to think of going back to the ship.
Hearing the grumbling of the other beasts in his group, Aril decided it was time to set up tonight's campsite. He chose a small clearing in the forest, a respite from the dark gloom of the rest of the forest. The clearing had a few ruins as well, which Aril decided he might as well check out. This was an archeological trip, after all.
Looking at the ruins, he could see a word etched into one of the stones. Most of the letters had cracked or been covered with dark vines, but three letters could still be seen: rdw. "I wonder what that means," the black footed ferret thought to himself.
The darkness closed in on the ruins as the sun set, and the ferret walked off into the soggy, gloomy forest to go help the others get firewood. A few lightning bugs were beginning to flicker, and the songs of the birds had been replaced with the songs of frogs.
Mandy laid her head in her arms, half-heartedly watching the raindrops slide down the pristine window of the classroom. It's the perfect day for a detention, she thought gloomily. Still, there were plenty of other things to do. She could have been studying for Miss Chamberlain's surprise re-test, or writing poetry in a cafe, or buying another poster.
'I hope you realize the gravity of what you have done, Amanda.' Mrs Whitterby's nasal tone cut through the solid silence. 'If word got out that you left the grounds after curfew, we would be forced to suspend you.'
Why don't you just go ahead, Mandy thought, too tired to be angry. Mrs Whitterby had the talent of making even the most passive people angry, and Mandy definitely wasn't passive. But it was hot and stuffy in the classroom, and she had not had more than two hours of sleep the night before.
Plink.
Something wet and cold landed on Mandy's nose. Mrs Whitterby looked up sharply from the paper she was grading.
Plink.
And again. The teacher looked up at the ceiling. Fat droplets of water were materializing around a crack, and presently another one fell.
'Good heavens,' Mrs Whitterby said darkly. 'I shall have to move my afternoon class.'
The first sensation of which Verde was aware was the feeling of rain hitting the unprotected skin of his arms, he raised his head and looked around. He was lying on the cold ground of a field of dark grass, rain poured down around him in never-ending sheets and the air was thick with fog, he could barely see two meters ahead of him. The Nameless One got warily to his feet, one hand on the hilt of one of his swords. So this is the mind of the god of weapons and war? I was expecting something more... violent. A deep chuckle rang out from the darkness
"Oh Verde, to fight effectively, one must be at peace, a violent mind is counter-productive to that goal"
The Nameless One whipped his sword free of its sheathe, glancing around "Where are you?"
"Everywhere, you're inside my mind, remember?"
There was a roll of thunder. Seconds later, a flash of lightning illuminated the scene and Verde saw a blurred shape in the fog before him. He dashed forward and swung his sword down as hard as he possibly could. Vibrations rang through his hand as the sword clanged harmlessly off a tall standing stone. The Nameless One took a few cautious steps forward, around the stone. The fog receded, revealing a circle of arches and stones daubed with red runes "What the...?" he ran his palm across one of the runes, it burned with power beneath his hand. He continued on, heedless of the heavy rain that was soaking through his clothes. Before him, in the center of the circle, stood a tall stone marked with a single rune, an open eye, he could feel the raw power that emanated from it "What is this place?" there was another flash of lightning and he felt a presence behind him
"It was my home" he turned, Acar stood there, his stance loose "now it is little more than a memory"
"Your home?"
The giant stepped forward and ran his fingers over the rune "Aye, my home"
"It's not very homely"
"You would mock this place?" Acar chuckled "Oh little Green One, how much of your universe do you remember creating? This circle had stood in this place since the dawn of time, you put it here"
Verde hesitated "It feels... familiar"
"As well it should. These were the Speaking Stones, the pride of my people"
"Who were your people Acar?"
Acar's expression turned dark "Do you truly remember so little?"
"I have lived for billions of years, I can't even remember my own name"
"Immortality is just as much a curse as it is a blessing, I suppose you know that better than most"
"You never answered my question"
"Place your hand upon the stone, your question will answer itself"
The Nameless One stared hard at the giant, his face was unreadable. Verde raised his arm, his hand hovering over the rune, he glanced at Acar one last time and brought his hand down
^ When are ya gonna post...?
:o Oh hell, I'll do it now
EDIT: Done
Read it. Interesting. Kinda depressing and slightly creepy, which is what you were going for, I guess.
As Onoirath strode onward through the rain; he remembered his family, who had been killed twenty years ago. He had been only a child at the time and helpless, his home had been plundered, his livelihood lost, and even his revenge had been taken from him. Old age had beaten him, the searat that had done all this had been just within his grasp, when he had fallen dead. There was no poison in his food, and he had been as strong as an ox, so no one could explain why he had died. Onoirath had then gone searching, searching for anything that could give him satisfaction, but so far it had taken him five years to look for it and he was still without happiness or any hope of happiness. Even Mother Nature mourned for him for it had rained every day of the anniversary of his parents death. He had journeyed far and wide, to Salamandastron, but the jolliness of the hares only proved to worsen his mood, even the feasts and ale of Redwall fell tasteless upon his tongue. He walked on neither noticing the rain as it fell, or the birds that flew overhead, he walked on, as he had been doing for decades.
Blaggut's been gone quite a while, I think we should ask someone to be a temporary judge until he returns
Indeed...
*Dark Shadowy form enters* I am sitting in for Blaggut, as he has disappeared... He would choose Jet, for he hit the scene best. I have no idea where Blaggut has disappeared to. Perhaps there is evidence in The Cellars? Surely not...
I think he would want the new genre to be A Nice Cozy Scene, to offset the gloom and action of our previous challenges. Begin on 3. 1... 3!
As Ferrethon was sitting in front of the cracking fire, while outside it was snowing heavily. His hound was sitting on the rug, chin between his paws. Ferrethon went to the window to take one last gaze at the ever whitening trees, as the ever faithful dog the hound raised his head as he heard his master get up, he then put his nose between his paws and went back to sleep. He then went down to the hound and scratched his head gently: They had spent many years together, some good, some bad and this ancient hound had never ceased to be an encouragement. As the snow thickened on that cold December night, he sat down again, and the hound sprang up unto the couch and lay down across Ferrethon's lap. Yes, thought Ferrethon, this had been a good year. Then he lay back and went to sleep with the hound on his lap, and the snow whitening the land about.
After the cozy scene does anyone else wanna run this? I'll edit the first post accordingly when someone has won/lost or a new competition begins.
I would run it but I want to write for it so I can't
Same problem :P
Someone needs to be the judge!
I'll still be judge but no one is posting Wroodles xD
I've been busy, but I'll try to post later. :P
Blaggut, you may as well just pronounce Delthion the winner and make a new category
The cat lied comfortably on a bed made of silk and feathers, next to a fire. He slept on a pillow, a cool, comfortable pillow.