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The treasure Hunters: The Map of Mal-pok [SHORT]
"In ya go, ya drunken fools!" Growled the Rainkeep soldier, tossing a pair of young men into the dungeon cell. One had hair only on top of his head (the sides and back were shaved), a sooty black, and he appeared to have red eyes. "Maybe they're just bloodshot," thought the soldier. The second guy was totally bald. He wore round sunglasses, had gauges in his ears, and 2 stud piercings in his left eyebrow. While he entered the cell easily enough, his raven-haired counterpart was a problem. It took 3 men to finally keep the guy away from the door long enough to lock it. The soldiers sighed, and headed up the stairwell to their posts.
"Oy!" Haskos yelled after them. "Where you wussies headed?!?"
"Does it matter?" Zuos asked quietly. Haskos smirked. "Well, the drunk act worked on 'em. Where's the sewer again?"
Zuos sighed. "For the umpteenth friggin' time, it's right below us! You got a match?"
"Of course," replied Haskos, taking out a matchbook and handing one to his magical friend.
The Open Mic: Night Two
“Oh good lord,” said Mac, eying the stage. “What? What's up?” Asked Terry, slurping up her sprite. “Look who's going on,” replied Alex, pointing at the approaching act. Terry glanced over. “It's killbeat. So what?” “That's just it,” went Ross. “It's killbeat.” “Let's see what they got,” said Terry, pointing at Todd's approach to the stage. He leaned over the edge of the stage, putting out his cigarette in the nearest table's ashtray and winking saucily at its female occupants. Moving back to his spot, he snapped his fingers at pierce, who started strumming a line on his bass, steadily going up, then dropping down to its lowest note. Ross brightened up. “Say, I KNOW this song!” He exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “What is it?” Asked Mac, a little puzzled. “It's that one staind song, isn't it?” Said Alex. “Yeah,” replied Mac. “Mudshovel.” Pierce
Blue Diesel"So you're sure nobody's watchin' Todd's place, Wes?"
"Sure I'm sure! Why're you so high-strung, man? It's just a pickup, it's not like we're smokin' it in front of the cops!"
Barry wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, his auburn locks swept back in the light caress of Los Angeles' spring breeze. He played with his medallion, a rat, from the chinese zodiac. Wes lowered his round-eyed shades on the bridge of his nose, and glanced over at his nervous friend through icy blue eyes.
"what's up, man?"
The pale kid looked over at his nawlins-born friend.
"Do black people get sunburnt?"
Wes smacked him upside the head.
"Dude!" He yelled. "Never ask me that again!" Barry rubbed the sore spot.
"Sorry. I wondered." Wes pushed his shades back up in front of his eyes.
"Well, stop wondering," he replied moodily.
"Now shut up," he said, putting on the brakes to their antiquated hot rod.
"We're here. What kind did we order again?" He asked.
"Blue Diesel." Replied Barry, rubbing his hands together.
Birdcagestuck in a birdcage
with only my rage
so i'd like to take a page
from cimmerian age
yes with conan
is where i wanna be
conquering every land the naked eye can see
make me a lord, no! king
lord of the rings
and every bard of me a song they'll sing
make me a god
conspire with loki
ruin kingdoms with a nod
god of war? please
when kratos i see
i'll crush him fast
and never listen to his plea
'mercy's for the weak'
is what they say
so i won't show it
not me, not today
i'll take middle earth
jab sauron in the eye
beat down smaug
and ride him through the skies
that's the thing for me!
the guy with those exploits is who i wanna be
oh man how i want to go on this rampage
but if only
i could get outta this birdcage
A Cage of Another SortThey're at it again. Trying to make me take those damned pills again. The ones that make me sleep. Sleep so they can experiment. Experiment on ME. They say I'm a monster. Well, at least, that's what my guard calls me. Pfft. Some guard. Oh god, I can hear them coming now, coming down this hallway. To give me the sleep pills. So they can scar me even more. The last experiment was for pain reception. I apparently passed. The scars haven't healed, though. There's this one on my forearm that I have to keep wrapped 'cause otherwise it starts bleeding. No, here they come now. I mustn't let them see me. See me on the ceiling. The so-called 'demon,' climbing on the ceiling. How fitting.
A jangling of keys, and the creak of a cell door. "He's in here. Doc."
Good, they don't notice I'm not on the floor.
Shined leather shoes glint on the floor. A balding man walks in with a small tray carrying an assortment of colored pills, and a big glass of water. "Andy?" says the doctor. "Andy, it's time for y
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