Sunday, February 28, 2010

Pokémon: The Golden Apocalypse, Chapter Thirteen

"Oh! Hello." The man peered at red, furrowing his brow. "I didn't expect to have a visitor. Not many people come by after..." He trailed off.
"Sir?" Asked Red, cautiously.
"Hm? Oh! What was I saying? Ah, that's right. I don't really get guests around here. Not for a long time. Where are you from, my boy?"
"I'm from Pallet, and I-"
"Pallet? You've met an Oak then, yes?"
"Yes sir, but why-"
"That's a man who you can trust. Samuel and I worked together for years. How is the old fellow?"
"He's well enough, but-"
"Good, good." The man lifted his glass and took a drink.
"Sir, I really don't understand why you-"
"I wrote this book with him, you know." He walked forward and set it on the table. The cover was worn and faded, and the letters were difficult for Red to make out. "The Compleat Encyclopaedia Pokémon. Samuel did most of it." He brushed the leather binding gently.
"Sir, this is all very interesting but-"
"So why are you in my house, my boy?" The man walked into his cooking alcove.
"I don't know. You brought me here."
"Did I? How odd. What would be the purpose? I love a good mystery." He began rummaging through his cupboard. "You must forgive me, I'm really not the same before I've had my coffee." He pulled a glass bottle from the shelf and poured a liquid Red was certain wasn't water into his glass. He ladled coffee from the pot on the stove on top of it, and headed back to Red. "I apologize for whatever I did. If I slept better and didn't wake with such a headache, I'd have been more gracious." He took a swig of his coffee, frowned, and walked to the kitchen to pour more into his cup from the glass bottle on the shelf. "You must forgive me, I don't really have anything to give you to eat. Living out here, I don't need to save a lot of food. Easier that way." He turned. His eyes fell o Nyoromo, still in Red's arms.
"Oh, you brought breakfast."

Saturday, February 27, 2010

Late Again

I realize this is extremely late, but I was really not good last night, so here it is. I tried to make the evolved form of Scorchilli, but I don't like it as much, I will try and make it better over time. I think it's called Jalapyre. And just to say it, I've already started something pretty cool for next week. Here is a sneakpeakish thingy, there is a lot more to it than just that though, some of you may know what it is already.


Uselessness, Qupar is thy name. I asked a random paragraph generator to speak about Qupar, and this is what it gave me. I edited out the dull bits about Qupar beleaguering a convoluted melon.

Uselessness prefixes Qupar.


Yes, he failed to post again. Shall we say strike two?


Friday, February 26, 2010


Ashley Fuller giggled. Mr. Spencer was an old, clueless teacher--and the students in his sixth-grade class took full advantage of it. Today, for example, he thought nothing of all six girls going to the bathroom at the exact same time. It made what the girls were doing that much easier.

It's not like we're doing anything wrong, she rationalized. We just want to experiment with makeup. Our parents won't let us, so we just need to take matters into our own hands.

The laughing girls didn't hear the high heels clicking down the hall, coming closer...

As Ashley leaned closer to the mirror to apply eyeshadow, she heard a throat clear behind her. All six turned, and Ashley blushed scarlet.

Her mom had caught them.

"Girls, does Mr. Spencer know you're here doing this?"

Ashley gulped. "No, Mom."

Mrs. Fuller's eyebrows drew together in a frown. "I suggest you all get back to class now. Ashley, go up to your flute lesson. You're late."

All six girls filed meekly out the dorr. Ashley had never been more humiliated in her life.

Maybe sneaking out of class to mess around with makeup wasn't the brightest idea we've had...

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Song(s) of the Week? (11): 'Image Deo', 'Chain Reaction' by Flexstyle, 'Aire Tam Break' by Fishy, and many others...

So I've been gone for a while from the posting line up due to generally being busy with other stuff. I don't expect to really post a lot, but it looks like I might have to step it up a bit to keep everyone here sane (although The Golden Apocalypse is definitely the highlight of this blog right now and it's quite awesome actually). So here comes a song of the "week" but it's not coming from OCR for a change. In my long break from posting the folks at Protagonist Records have been keeping real busy by launching guest releases nearly every weekday. It's definitely keeping me busy with stuff to listen to and I'll run through a few of my favorites and the artists they got me interested in. First off I've started to like Flexstyle; a lot of sweet beats from this electronic artist and I've listened to Elements of Creation as well as A Sense of Urgency 2009 and they've both been pretty good albums and stuff I'll probably buy for his price once my iPod starts working again. Both guest tracks of his on Protagonist are pretty dang good; I love the beginning of Image Deo and Chain Reaction is very slick with an in your face attitude that is very dance-able. There's also a few other tracks and artists I should mention doing guest releases now; hollidayrain has some pretty good trance/techno that is worth a listen or two. Death Hill by Vitz and (get this song title) Ornamekias - A Slight Wave From the Hill Above by 12 Followers/Meteo Xavier also provided some very good chill stuff recently that I can't seem to stop listening to. I used Death Hill in a PowerPoint presentation already and it went over pretty well mixing in with the background. Pyroshock also got a guest track recently called An Integral Part (Reprise) it's some good trance stuff with a sweet breakdown section. After listening to it I checked out both of his EP albums. There's lots of great stuff up there so go check it out at it's definitely worth the listen. Back to OCR... they've put up way too much stuff for me to cover since I've been gone, but a fairly recent mix posted around the end of 2009 is Aire Tam Break by Fishy with some excellent guitar work. Check it out on youtube; pretty sweet stuff. Now that I've hopefully given you lots of awesome music listen to something each week to make up for all the time I've missed. I hope I've kept you sane long enough to endure reading more Reogan, Elphaba, and Qupar or whatever his name is now. Actually they're doing great without me, so I'm content to read their awesome stuff while I sit back and do other things. No offense guys; I'm insane too, have a nice week :)

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Shame, Humiliation, and Embarrassment

Qupar could not decide quickly enough. He wasn't sure the offer was good enough. "Why could the other kid just skip his stupid baseball game?" he thought to himself. After all, he was the one who wanted to do this. The idea of dressing in a shiny red dress and dancing in front of others was not appealing to him at all. However, they did mention one cream. Ice cream was a great offer, Qupar loved ice cream. Not to mention, he should be more outgoing and less shy, but was this to far? He didn't know. He wasn't even completely comfortable dancing as a guy to the song "You Can't Stop the Beat" (from Hairspray) in front of hundreds of people, but participating in the annual 4-H variety show was a tradition of his. To make it even worse, he found he won an award at the end of the show. Mr. and Miss came up to the microphone and proclaimed that had one the "Dance Fever" Award. Qupar didn't even know if he should accept it, but the people sitting next to him in the large auditorium told him to go. He walked up on front of the stage and accepted his award, and now his group wanted him to cross dress and dance all across the County Fairgrounds. He had to be outgoing, he must do this, but he couldn't he denied it.

The next week, he was half regretting his decision. He thought maybe it will help my confidence. They asked again at the next practice, and he shamefully agreed. The next week, he went to the bathroom to change. He opened the plastic bag, and put on the dress and horrendous wig. He walked back into the lobby of the building. People laughed. He was so humiliated. He stood there, awkwardly, showing more chest cleavage than he felt comfortable, and then realized how nasty any guy showing chest cleavage in a dress was. It was time. Show #1, the chicken barn. At least he could dance correctly, he thought to himself. They moved to the cow barn for show #2. He noticed two people he knew, gaping at what they saw. After the show was done, the people he moved came over to him. "Qupar, what are you doing?" So much for no one recognizing him. He felt so embarrassed. They still performed two more times. The last on a stage.
It was over, he could become male again. He was so glad it was done. It was by far the second most humiliating thing he had ever experienced. He changed back into real cloths, looking forward to ice cream. When he came out...there was none. He decided maybe being outgoing is not such a great idea.

I am sorry if this is bad or poorly written, but there have been untrue stories of this event floating around, and I just want to clarify.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Story Two, Chapter Four

The speaker felt the small vibration in his ear before he heard the instruction. As soon as the message stopped, he turned, and began to walk briskly down the corridor. As he walked, the hallway began to slant downwards and turn slightly. The fluorescent lights guided him down the spiral for many long minutes. Finally, the hall straightened. A red carpet stretched above the previously barren floor to an etched stone doorway. Cameras clustered on the ceiling like bats, watching everything. The Sspeaker stopped for a moment, awed. Though the entryway was not particularly grand, that which it guarded held such meaning the speaker couldn't do anything but stare for a time. His ear vibrated again, and the message was relayed as before. Remembering himself, the speaker took a breath, and walked to the door. He raised a hand to knock as he had been told.

In the silence of the shadows, the scream was clear. The man in the shadows was again pleased. Not only was the speaker removed, completely erasing the existence of the previous guards, but his defenses still worked well. His hands cracked as he flexed them, and began to type anew.

Monday, February 22, 2010

Story Shards: 1337s & Levers

"Oh lol," laughed Evita, plucking another hor d'oeuvre from the tray. "Vincent, you really are almost too droll."
"Thx, my dear, thx. But tell me how your Reginald's oil prospects are coming. I heard he had procured quite a large drilling site in Brazil. From Charles here, if I'm not mistaken."
"Hax," murmured Charles under his breath. He took a large swig of champagne. It would be a long night.
Evita glared at him. "O rly? Pics or it didn't happen!" Charles sighed, defeated. Evita continued, "Well, it won't be easy to drill for a while. The natives seem to fail to realize that all their base are belong to us." She caught a faint curse from across the room, and turned to see Reginald fighting of an extraordinarily long feline.
"No, you may not haz cheezburger!"
"It seems I need to go rescue my husband. The party was grand though. Simply grand." Evita began to leave when Vincent's voice stopped her.

"Thus, if a lever long enough can move the world, a lever long enough could move the universe." The keynote speaker droned on, as the entire summit began to nod off. Irene D. Powd actually slept for a short time, before waking to the ominous words from the speakers. "...Metaphysical enough could move your soul." Irene felt a horrible wrenching in her gut as laughter boomed from the speakers. The speaker was pushing one finger downwards on a small point just beyond the physical universe. The mechanical advantage was too great, and Irene felt her soul slip away.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Pokémon: The Golden Apocalypse, Chapter Twelve

Red didn't have a chance to speak before he an oaken staff slammed into his face from the left. "Whaddya think yer doin' in mah city, yeh lil whippersnapper?" The man took Red's neck n his feeble hands and begun to shake him about. "In mah day we had laws about trespassin' an' whatnah. Nah tha' i' stopped any of yeh trainers from waltzin' across mah property. Jus' cause I's got the only way t' Pewter don' mean I's willin' to let yeh go rippin' up mah lawn. An' now yeh' think jus' cause everyone's up an' left means yeh' can have mah city?"
"I just-" Red's words were silenced by another blow from the staff. The man took Red by the ear and began to drag him into the city. Red struggled, but when he broke free, the man tripped him with his staff, and beat him. When he was satisfied, he began to drag Red once more.
"No respect. Tha's the problem wit' yeh youngins. Yeh got no respect fer yer elders. Now back in mah day, we obeyed our elders, an' we was thrashed iffin we disobeyed. But we din't! We din't disobey, because we had respect!" Red saw a faint blue sphere waddling after them. He dared not call out to his pokémon, though, as the man seemed quite capable of bludgeoning the poor thing to death.
Still grumbling, the man pulled Red into a small house on the north side of the city. Red was pushed into a chair, while the man fumbled about a small kitchen. "Now yeh jus' wait there while I gets mah coffee, an' then we'll see about gettin' yeh yer thrashin'. He was too absorbed in his cooking to notice the poliwag tumble through the still-open door. It looked about confusedly for a minute, and then began to head to Red's captor.
"Nyoromo!" Red hissed. The man turned, holding a mug of coffee, and glaring at Red. He failed to see the pokémon at his feet.
"Noromaro? Is tha' sum kind of newfangled expletive yeh kids are sayin' now? Back in mah day, we respected our elders. It was all yessir and no sir. None of this noonamero stuff yeh kids are sayin'. Now yeh wait righ' here while I gets mah belt. Yeh've got a beatin' comin'." The man fumbled to the door, and locked it. He placed the key in his breast pocket, and trudged into a back room. The second he was out of sight, Red leapt out of his chair and grabbed his pokémon.
Nyoromo was in surprisingly good shape. He had recovered most of the weight lost from dehydration already, and his wound, uncovered at this point since the threads were water-soluble, was nearly gone. Red marveled for a second, before thinking to try the door. It was locked. He knew he'd need to fight the man to escape, which worried him, but with Nyoromo on his side he might have a chance. Just as he began to walk to the back room, the man turned the corner, holding only a large book,his coffee cup, and a pipe between his teeth.

Saturday, February 20, 2010


Sorry, I have been sick the past few days and am still not up to par, this is as soon as i could post safely. I found a few things I had saved.

Here are some recolored sprites, the Venasaur is colored as a Blastoise, the Charizard is colored as a Venusaur, and the Blastoise is colored as a Charizard.

This is a graveler, filled in with magnimite eyes and I think it's got Gengar eyes.

I made an evil looking togepi and togetic.

This is a houndoom that's light blue.

Friday, February 19, 2010


As I stared at what was directly in front of my eyes, one thing was clear:

Toto, we are so far gone from Kansas it's not even funny.

This was the oddest, strangest thing I'd ever encountered! It hadn't ever crossed my mind that things like this could exist! It was making me question everything I thought I knew and trusted... I wondered breifly if there was ever a time when this was remotely close to normal. I mean, would people actually see something like this while they were just walking down the street?

That idea horrified me, so I quickly blocked it. However, I couldn't seem to tear my eyes away from the picture I held in my hands.

I mean, my best friend sporting a six-inch high, multicolored mohawk? What was wrong with him?

Thursday, February 18, 2010


"You broke my heart,"
She said,

Picking up the

"Here it is."

I still don't know


She did it,

But she managed to


Herself open

And give him

Her heart.

Best wedding speech.


Wednesday, February 17, 2010

A Brief Explanation

I am a benevolent god, and I have granted you an extra Apocalypse this week. I don't mean to overshadow Qupar who has provided a story on time this week. Please don't forget to shower him with adoration as well. When I double my output, I will always use Wednesdays, as they seem to be the opposite of Sunday. Thursdays would technically work as well, but that offends my aesthetics. Please check for Quparian content every week, as I foresee no reason for him to stop posting.


Worthless life?

It was a good feeling, perfecting the lives of others. Shofah was glad he was Chosen to become a Perfecter. It was a fun job. Not to mention, relatively easy. He grinned as he looked at the clock. 2 more minutes until it was time to start. Shofah grabbed his tool. It was very shiny. He liked shiny. He sat down on a step at the top of the building. He could see everything from up here. He liked to look at the little people down below. "They look just like ants." he thought to himself. "And soon they will come up here and I can help them." He was so excited to start a new day off with the perfection of lives. He was told by the Officials that he was doing a great job. He might even be the best they have ever had. He heard the drum start to beat, and leaped to his feet as he watched the first man walk up the giant pyramid. He was trembling. "He must not be having a very good time..." Shofah thought to himself. He smiled at the thought of making his life better. The man was at the top of the giant pyramid now, and laid down on the stone, rectangle table. Shofah looked at his tool. It was very sharp. He liked sharp. He raised it above the man. The man screamed. "Don't worry," said Shofah, "you will feel better when you are dead." Shofah was so pleased with himself. "Then you won't have to live with the disease you might get, and we won't have to pay to feed you." He dropped his hand, and stabbed the tool into the man. He felt so happy, another life saved from the torture of living. "It makes so much sense." He thought. "My parents would be so proud if I didn't have to perfect them, too." He watched, proud of himself, as the next man walked up. Shofah smiled nicely to the man. This man was labeled as a blind one. No one bothered to find out if he was or not. No one thought that he could live his life if he was blind, and why let him try? It doesn't matter, it's just life.

Pokémon: The Golden Apocalypse, Chapter Eleven

Red opened his eyes, felt a spear of pain skewer his mind, and closed them again. It was bright. The sun was high in the sky, and nothing blocked the rays from Red's exposed position. He began the long task of opening his eyes slowly, trying to keep the stabbing light from penetrating into his aching head. He managed to rise to his hands and knees, but a wave of dizziness hit him. Something wasn't right, but he couldn't figure out what. His head ached to much to think, and his legs protested every movement. His skin had begun to burn dully, and the sun still beat relentlessly down. He lifted his head slightly, wincing at the pain, and saw Nyoromo sitting under a small protrusion from the rock face.
The pokémon was still asleep. It struck Red how small it looked. The poor thing seemed to have wilted overnight. Where bubbles had occasionally issued from its mouth, there was now only a translucent filmy substance. A thought entered Red's sluggish brain. He barely caught a wisp of it before it evaporated in the heat. Why was it so hot? He felt like he would simply cease to be if the heat continued.
Water. The thought materialized again. He realized his throat was parched, and though hot his skin was without sweat. He was suffering from dehydration, and his poliwag must be as well. He crawled to the edge of his platform, gritting his teeth against the pain, and saw that a small pond was nearby, at the old city's entrance, a few hundred yards away. He picked up Nyoromo, who shifted slightly but didn't wake, and placed him in his pack. Red then began to climb down.
Looking back, he could never remember how he made it. Only one instance stood out in his mind. He could clearly recall clinging to a small handhold with a single hand, swinging like a pendulum, terrified.
Somehow, though, he had made it, and as he crawled to the edge of the water to drink, he decided he didn't want to know how he did it. Nyoromo rolled out of the unzipped pack as Red drank, still asleep, and landed at the ponds edge. The water revived him enough to take a little waddle forward and sink to the bottom, in his element once more.
Red, having taken in more water than was probably wise, sat back to wait for Nyoromo. The water was clear, and he could see through it well enough to make out the pokémon's round form darting about at the bottom. Content that he wouldn't be eaten by anything, Red turned to survey the city.
The buildings still stood, and only the creeping vines on their sides and chipped paint hinted at their abandonment. What was between the buildings told more of the tale, though. The once-paved streets were cracked and weeds grew there. A fair bit away, Red could just make out a fountain, no longer running, that seemed to have sprouted a sapling. It was a calm place, not at all like the nest of death he had imagined the Fallen Viridian as. But that was its danger, he supposed. Nowhere in the forest was safe, no matter how tranquil.
Having taken a few steps towards the ruins, he turned to return to the water, and almost collided with an old man standing there.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Story Two, Chapter Three

Deep in the darkness, a small faint screen began to flicker. The man in the shadows' fingers stopped for a second as he turned to it. He raised a hand and pointed a long, withered finger to it. It came forward, resting in the air just beyond the mans hooked nose, glowing faintly. It displayed two words.


An imperceptible change came over the man's face. A slight tightening and lifting at the edge of his lips. His smile was little different from the grimace of most men, but it mattered not to one in his position. He turned away, and the screen returned to its position. He stretched out his fingers, and began to type again into the air. The speaker was not yet finished.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Story Shards: Fires & Flight

The fires' glow cast her reflection into sharp relief. A single tear rolled down her cheek into the puddle. A spot of black in an ashy pool. She remembered what she had been told. She could see Vlad's face as clearly as she had that fateful night, his dark eyes gleaming. "Never read from the book. No matter what happens to me, don't call forth what lies within." He turned and leapt across the railing. She reached out a hand to stop him, and the sting of flame brought her back to the present.

I finally found him in the summer. I was in the field, at the tree where we had played as children. With nowhere to go, I laid on the grass and began to drift to sleep under the stars. As my vision began to blur under the veil of sleep, a star disappeared. My muscles tensed, and my consciousness roared back to life. It seemed such a small thing, but to the animal within, the absence of a star on a clear night bodes ill. As I watched, more stars vanished. y heart beat faster and I tensed to run. But I needn't have worried. The stars never left, they just became hidden behind something grander, something more than they could be. He alighted next to me, smiling. Without a word he reached out his hand. I took it, and we began to rise. I didn't ask where we were going. It was enough to know it was away. Together.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Pokémon: The Golden Apocalypse, First Interlude

We never stood a chance. After the systems crashed, our fates were sealed. We didn't have a protector. Giovanni was gone without a trace, as was his wont, and we lacked powerful pokémon. We weren't ready for battle. We were mostly students and townsfolk. Only the students had pokémon. Fresh from Pallet, they had come to learn from us. They were about to start their grand journeys. They never did.
After the crash, we weren't badly off at first. Someone had a pikachu that could power the pokémon center's PC. We maintained communications then, and people always traveled to us from Pallet and back. One brave student actually went to Celadon for a holiday. It was far, but he made it. He phoned in when he arrived. The store wasn't as grand as it had been, but he had still found a few items he liked. He had smiled then, and told us he'd be back in a few days. That was the last time we saw him.
The Forest didn't wait. Like a creeping rot, it spread down from the north. It kept back from the city, but it grew. They sprouted between us and Pallet. These new trees met up with the Old Forest along our Celadon border. No one returned from Celadon. No one returned from Pallet. As the trees reached inwards to us, so did the pokémon.
People began to disappear. That wasn't so bad. The horror came when we began to find them. Our friends - our family members - were found tied to trees by silky thread, bones picked clean of flesh. Often, the bones were cracked, many lying at the bottom of the tree, and the marrow was missing. Sucked dry. Like the body we found in the square when we got back from a burial. She was a little girl, maybe nine. She had complained of a stomach ache, so her mother had let her stay home on the provision that she wouldn't open any doors or windows. Judging by the marks in the dirt, the girl had feigned illness to draw rather than see another rushed funeral.
Her death must have been agonizing. The body was no more than a husk, sucked dry. Since the organs were gone and the only wounds were two small holes, a venom must have been injected to liquefy her innards. She had writhed. Writhed enough to make a small depression in the ground. Her voice must have been stopped by the venom too. But she still spoke to us. Even in death, she spoke. We listened to her silent, withered body there. She told us to go. No more, she said, no more.
We went. Nightfall found Viridian empty, but for a few stalwart old men who refused to leave. We went south. Alone. Just a band of terrified townsfolk and untested students with small pokémon against the horrors of the Forest.

Saturday, February 13, 2010


I was actually inspired by an OCR post that Met showed me. It's called Scorchilli. It is a sprite that is a fire/grass type, I thought it was funny, so I decided to try and make what I thought it might look like. I just used a leppa berry, two cherri berries, and an enlarged flame from Charizard's tail, I will make the evolved form next week.

I found it!

I found it! I had it saved in Microsoft Word for some reason. It isn't the most amazing thing ever, but I really like it. REGIFIRE!

Friday, February 12, 2010

Love Story of Mary Albright

Mary Albright smiled instinctively as her boyfriend, Dexter Payne, sat across from her at their table.

"Hey, Mary."

"Hi, Dex!" she answered happily. Maybe tonight will finally be the night... Maybe tonight he'll finally propose! "How was your day?"

"Oh, it was fine," he replied, but didn't offer much else than that. He asked her about the kindergarteners she taught, and Mary laughed as she recounted a particularly amusing event that day. But she noticed how he kept slipping his hand into his pocket, and seemed fairly jittery about something.

"Dex?" Mary asked in a concerned tone. "Are you all right?" Is he nervous about proposing to me? Does he think I'll say no? Is he even proposing tonight? Why wouldn't he? I love him so much...

"Nothing," Dexter replied, a calm, resigned smile on his face. "What did you say Charlie did to the Legos?"

He's obviously not ready. I'll give him time--show him how much I do care. He'll pop the question when he's sure. But I won't push him.

I love him too much.

Thursday, February 11, 2010


The heavens open.

Four Horseman

Descend in horrific





They stand before us

Wreathed in

It isn't really the right


But I think

We should

See other people.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Abysmal Ineptitude

Apparently, Qupar has decided that he is above the system and is in no way required to post as the schedule demands. As Reogan-in-Chief (Not to be confused with Met-in-Chief, another prestigious position), I need to create filler. Why should you care? Because I had just begun to write the next chapter of the Apocalypse when I discovered this. I first intended to just write it anyway and post it here to make up for the error. However, that would reward Qupar for his sloth. I don't reward sloth. Instead, I turn to a random sentence generator, and build a story from that. Every italicized sentence is randomly generated. The tenses have been edited to fit.

Why couldn't the red bush wait? The green one had no problem standing in line. Yet the red bush insisted on shoving its way to the front, paying no attention to the order of things. I yelled at it to stop. I knew it displeased the Vicar to see such exuberance in the court. Yet despite my warning - almost as if to spite my warning - the bush reached the front, and entangled the Vice-Telemarketer's hand with a root. The man was pulled to the ground, and began to fight back. The struggle foamed. The battle was obscured for but a moment when the foam became awash with the saffron blood of the Telemarketer. From his tower, the Vicar frowned. He made a gesture, and an inertia appeared on the field. The red bush was left defenseless as the other bushes fled. Two consultants swarmed from the toadstools. The first consultant bound the bush. The latter consultant inflicted the inertia. Newton wept, as the bush, no longer in motion, remained in that state, for no outside force affected it again. He wept for thermodynamics, and he wept for all bushes. Does every race script a keen pedantry? It would seem thus.

You can all thank Qupar for preventing me from posting two Apocalypses this week.

Tuesday, February 09, 2010

Story Two, Chapter Two

The guards assembled in the Hall of High Honors. At the front of the room was a simple stage, free of decoration but for a small podium. A speaker stood behind it, and when the room quieted he spoke. "Congratulations. You made it. Forty years ago, you made an oath to maintain the balance by protecting the inner sanctum of this tower. You succeeded. Through you valor, your bravery, and your loyalty," He made a point of singling out a particular guard with each word, "you fulfilled and exceeded every promise you made. You are the elite, the greatest of the greats, and for that, we thank you." He paused as applause and cheers issued from the normally stoic guards. When silence at last returned, the speaker resumed. "However, it's against regulations to allow egress from the compound." A yellowish smoke began to issue from the vents. "Once more, congratulations. Farewell." A transparent pane rose from the floor, separating the speaker from the gasses. A few guards dashed for the doors, while some sat dazedly. As the first guard reached for the handle, she stopped. Suddenly inhaling sharply, she dropped to the floor and writhed erratically. The others soon succumbed, and the floor was a mass of bodies. Within minutes, their undulations ceased, and the air system cleared the room of any remaining fog. The pane lowered, and the speaker walked into the crowd. The guards' eyes followed him, though they could do nothing to move. The speaker drew a dagger from his sleeve, and methodically plunged it into the throat of the nearest guard. Her slowed heart could barely shift her blood, and rather than a spray, the liquid oozed out from her. The speaker moved about the room, and did the same to all the guards. He wiped his dagger clean on the last's uniform, and strode out the door behind the stage.

Regulations had been fulfilled.

Monday, February 08, 2010


Pressed for time and out of ideas, Reogan resorted to two things he had hoped never to do. The first was speaking of himself in the third person and past tense. The second, asking his audience what they wanted to see on Mondays. "What is it?" He whispered softly into the aether, tears running down his face. His fists clenched so tightly that his hands began to drip blood, that was soon lost in the rain. "What do you want from me?" He threw back his head and watched the lightning tear through the sky above. It illuminated a woman, floating next to Mother moon. She reached out her hand to Reogan, a look of pity on her face. Before he could take her hand, the winds rose, and she was blown away.

The Muse was lost.

Sunday, February 07, 2010

Pokémon: The Golden Apocalypse, Chapter Ten

Red lowered himself down to Nyoromo. He picked up the pokémon, who responded with a happy "Wag!" Red assumed this meant it wasn't bleeding out from an unseen wound. He sat on the ledge for a minute, holding Nyoromo and looking out over the ruins. Some of the buildings seemed mostly intact. He decided to use one for a shelter. He set down Nyoromo, and crawled carefully to the brink of his platform. He saw another protrusion about a yard downwards. Still grasping his pokémon, he sat on the edge of his ledge and let himself fall down to the next. The impact sent a shock through his legs, and he crumpled. Without terror fueling him, the exhaustion was overpowering. His entire body erupted in white-hot pain. Red's eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed.
Nyoromo prodded Red with a foot. When that failed to elicit a response, the little pokémon waddled over to Red's head. With a tired sigh, it sat back. It wrapped its tail around itself, and was slumbering in minutes. As it breathed, a single bubble formed and floated off from it. The bubble floated off towards the moon, leaving the companions alone above the ruined city.

Green whittled off a few final pieces of bark, and held the stick up against the sky. The light of the moon illuminated the fine point. He began to get up, but a glint caught his eye. Looking back to the stars, he saw a faint orb drift across the sky. The moon seemed to swell as the sphere hovered over it. Green was transfixed until the bubble popped, raining a moist spray down. Green wiped his face, and returned to his work. He took his stick, and set it in the ground, point facing out. With this, his ring was completed, and he had a safe place to sleep.
"Hitokage!" Green called sharply. A faint glow appeared in the forest, and grew. Soon, the charmander entered the clearing, claws digging grooves through the fallen leaves. Green saw at once it carried nothing, and sighed. He had seen signs of a fight nearby, and hoped he might find some supplies dropped by a fleeing - or eaten - Called. Suddenly angry, he grabbed the used Repel he had found on the ground, and threw it into the forest. He hadn't found anything that day, and had hoped to make up lost time with extra supplies. He removed a stake and stepped into the ring. He snapped his fingers, and Hitokage followed him in. He repaired the hole, and took a plant from his pack. He grabbed his pokémon's tail, and used its flame to light the stem as he stripped off the leaves. He sat against his pack, raised the smoldering vegetation to his mouth, and inhaled deeply. He looked at the stars, and a smile played at the corners of his mouth. He was really here, out to become the very best. He blew out a line of smoke, which rose until a stray breeze caught it and carried it away.

The pokémon's nose twitched as a burning smell reached its nose, but it didn't swerve from its path. It ran up the side of a tree, and scampered to the top. It ran along a branch, and hopped down onto an outstretched arm of the next tree. It continued across the treetops for a short while, until it reached a large nest. It crawled in through a tiny hole in the side, and entered into a small den in which a human rested.. It dropped something it carried in its mouth, and curled up next to the human.
The girl opened her eyes groggily. She saw the pokémon and was relieved that it made it back safely. The smile inverted itself, though, when she saw what it had brought. Inches from her face was a small mass of thread, staining the floor with white blood. She worried about the last of the Called, and his poor pokémon. Mercifully, she was tired enough that the thoughts didn't trouble her long before she fall asleep.

Green tossed the butt of the stem aside, and laid on his back with his hands under his head. He wondered what his grandfather was doing. Probably still working. He remembered the long hours they had spent together, Oak staring through a microscope while Green prepared his next slide. Back then he had seen it as work, but now he was surprised to find he missed it. Most of his life had been spent at that man's side, but no more. Never again thought Green sadly. I'm Called. I have a duty to protect Pallet. I'm not a child anymore. Things will never be the same.
The boy drifted off in Hitokage's dim light, a single tear glistening on his cheek.

Saturday, February 06, 2010


Reogan wanted me to post more sprites on Satudays. Here are my latest addtitions.

This one I am not so fond of. I tried to make the dumbest looking sprite I could. It's got Loudred ears for eyes, a recolored electrode body, gyrados wings, and a tanglegrowth or whatever it's called arm for a trunk/nose. Not to proud of it. Unlike my next one.

I like this one. I took and Ivysaur's body and shaved off it's giant flower on it's back, recolored it black and gray, and put the flames of cyndiquil and quilava on it. I also added a charmander flame on it's foot. I love this one. Fire is the best.

Friday, February 05, 2010

Love Story of Dexter Payne

Dexter Payne sat down nervously across from his girlfriend. "Hey, Mary."

"Hi, Dex!" She replied brightly. "How was your day?"

"Oh, it was fine..." Dexter babbled on, anxiously fingering the ring in his pocket. While Mary laughed about the escapades of the five-year-olds she taught, Dexter wondered if his decision was the right one...

What if she says no? What if she laughs at me? It's not worth it!

"Dex?" Mary asked, her brow wrinkling. "Are you all right?"

It's not worth it,
he decided. She'll hate me. She doesn't really like me; she's just with me for convenience. I won't trap her by proposing.

"Nothing." Dexter smiled. "What did you say Charlie did to the Legos?"

She must never know. It wouldn't make any difference, because she would just leave me. I won't trap her.

I love her too much.

Thursday, February 04, 2010


so much depends

a red wheel

dripping with fresh

beside the small

Wednesday, February 03, 2010

Senseless Senses

Tommy woke. Something was different. He knew it. He lay there, waiting. He didn't know what would happen, but it felt like something would. He heard his door open. He turned to look at it. It was closed. He heard footsteps walking towards his bed. He screamed, and did not hear a sound come out of his mouth. He turned on his lamp. The sound was coming closer. He heard a plea for help. He started screaming again, hoping others could hear. He heard his desk fall over. It was perfectly intact. He heard something screaming "Why can't you see me!". He couldn't move. Yet he felt himself move. He didn't know what was going on. He tried to talk. Nothing. He felt himself walking toward the door. The voice was crying now. It was pleading for a response. It was dying for someone to recognize it was there. He still saw nothing. He still could say nothing. He still couldn't move. He felt himself walking outside. He was still trapped inside, stuck hearing the something being tortured out of lonliness and disregard. "WHY WON'T YOU HEAR ME?" It screamed. He could hear, but he could not speak or move. He felt himself moving down the street, but he was still in his bed. He felt himself walk up his neighbors driveway. Still in his bed. He felt himself open the neighbor's door. Still in his bed. He felt himself walk into his neighbor's room, and sensed his neighbor waking up. "Hello?" He felt himself say, though his mouth never opened and he heard nothing. He felt himself shaking his neighbor. Why couldn't his neighbor hear him? He felt himself move to his neighbor's nightstand. Tommy was still in his bed. He felt himself knock over the nightstand and sensed the neighbor's horror. "Talk to me!" he screamed. He still didn't feel his mouth move, or hear sound, and was still in his bed. "Why can't you see me?" he felt himself scream. He still heard, felt, or mouthed nothing. He sensed himself shout "WHY WON'T YOU HEAR ME?"

Tuesday, February 02, 2010

Story Two, Chapter One

Light was nearly absent. If one were to spend hours in the silence, a faint sound might reach their ears. A sound much like the wings of a hawk, whispering as it descends on a helpless mouse. If, then, one would advance, and ascend a spiraling staircase to a platform on a dais, a tall thin figure might come into view. Obscured by the oppressive darkness, his features would be indiscernible from his clothing, except for his fingers which would twitch before him. And if one were to stay in this room for years, then the screens would become visible. Glowing a faint green, they could be seen past the man, towering hundreds of feet high in clusters composed of scores. One would need to become one with the darkness to see this far past it. Not that anyone could survive to reach the room.

Monday, February 01, 2010

Under Construction

The blog is being rearranged, and so I have no column for this Monday. Instead, I give you links.

The Call of Cthulhu

I have no idea what this is called. Maybe Gundam Tanosii? or is that an expletive?

Zombie Alert -- Home Protection for Sophisticated Families

Urban Dead

Everything should be fixed soon. I hope.