Short, delectable, bite-sized, Stories.

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Short, delectable, bite-sized, Stories.

Post by The Archivist. on Sat Nov 21, 2009 11:02 pm

I am working on a short story, but it is only a work in progress, when I got more I'll put it up here
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Re: Short, delectable, bite-sized, Stories.

Post by Hucota7 on Sun Nov 22, 2009 1:35 pm

cool. whats it about?
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Re: Short, delectable, bite-sized, Stories.

Post by The Archivist. on Sun Nov 22, 2009 3:07 pm

Evil vampires.
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Re: Short, delectable, bite-sized, Stories.

Post by Hucota7 on Mon Nov 23, 2009 2:30 pm

cool. Razz cant wait to see how it is.
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Re: Short, delectable, bite-sized, Stories.

Post by Delilah Roze on Mon Nov 23, 2009 2:57 pm

Lol. Coolsies.
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Re: Short, delectable, bite-sized, Stories.

Post by Moshda on Tue Nov 24, 2009 11:19 am

Wow, evil vampires for a change.... lately everyone I know who's into writing has been writing about good vamps. I'm looking forward to reading some more original material, lol. I can't wait to see what you've got so far!!! ^.^

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Re: Short, delectable, bite-sized, Stories.

Post by The Archivist. on Mon Nov 30, 2009 3:16 pm

THE BLOOD WAND.
Lance DeMoi leaned against a bulkhead in the plane, he could feel the vibrations of the engines on his back. DPIR agents milled about the plane, carrying out different tasks, Lance’s handler, Agent Grey, walked over to where he was sitting.
“DeMoi, so you know the mission, you know who to kill, and to retrieve the Blood Wand. You’ll be going to go to this forest,” Grey pulled out a map, “Here, a few miles south of London, the vampire colony is nested here, in some ruins of a fort. We need you to do this quick DeMoi, we believe they are on some ceremonial schedule, get the Wand before sunrise.” Grey said. Lance nodded sleepily, it was 12:30 AM, he had drank to cups of coffee, but he was still tired.
“Getting fatigued in my old age.” Lance mumbled
“Oh please.” Grey sighed as he walked away. The plane reached London, great sea of lights in the early morning darkness, Lance pulled on his parachute and proceeded to the hatch, Grey came over as well.
“Parachute?” The handler asked.
“Check.”
“Walkie-talkie?”
“Check.”
“Extra walkie-talkie?”
“(krk) Check. Over (krk).”
“Array of stakes?”
“Check.”
“Revolver with silver bullets?”
“Shiny.” Lance puled out his revolver and cocked it.
“All right, Jason open the hatch.” said Grey. The agent by the door opened it up, a blast of cold, morning air smacked Lance in the face, and his ears were filled with the roaring of the engine and wind. Lance felt slightly sick, heights had always bothered him, he braced himself against the doorway, his face turning slightly green.
“Afraid of heights? Even after all these years?” Grey smirked as he started to walk away.
“Aren’t you going to wish me luck?” Lance asked crossly.
Grey grunted.
“I’m so lucky to have you as my handler.” And with that, he jumped from the plane, into the night and the forest below. Once he was clear of the plane, he extended his parachute, it blew out into the air, slowing his fall. He gritted his teeth and looked down, which comforted him when he was high up. After some time, Lance lowered below the treetops, the designated clearing beneath him, he landed with a small thud. He unstrapped the parachute and left it on a stump, he adjusted his jump suit, armed himself with a stake and walked into the cover of the trees. Grey’s voice came from Lance’s walkie-talkie.
“Lance, proceed due east for about two klicks, you’ll come to a walled compound, enter it through the the old lavatory chute. Remember, this forest is probably filled with guards, be careful and stealthily. Over and out.” Lance could feel an immediate change when he entered the forbidding darkness of the trees, a chill, eerie feeling crept over him, sending a shiver down his spine. He sighed and continued walking. Nothing eventful happened for sometime, except a sleepy squirrel who threw a nut at his head, then he reached a hill with a foxhole at the top. Lance slipped behind a tree, readying his stake, he listened as he heard voices coming from the hole.
“Ugh, this is incredibly dull. No one worth eating is awake. Then we have to wait ‘till the sun is up.” The voice was chill and cruel, and sounded like nails on a chalkboard.
“Silence, Alan, we must watch and listen for DPIR or Scotland Yard investigators, once the ceremony is complete Klaus shall destroy the New London and rally the Nocturnals of Britain. The second voice was dusty, sounded like breaking glass, and full of malice, Lance crept to the back of the hill and crawled to the top. Two vampires, in leather armor, one had a sickle, the other wielded a three-foot long sword. The one with the the sickle sniffed the air.
“What is it, Brutus, what do you smell?” Alan asked.
“Blood, nearby.” The two vampires eagerly looked around into the misty trees. Alan turned around just in time to yelp as Lance plunged his stake through his chest. As his companion turned to ash, Brutus leaped from the foxhole, bringing up his sickle. Lance lunged, feinting toward the vampire’s stomach, but his attack was deflected, the vampire was smarter than he looked. Brutus spoke something in Romanian, suddenly Lance was put in slow motion, he struggled against the spell, just as he broke free, Brutus cut a deep gash down his right arm. Lance hit the ground and gritted his teeth against the pain. The vampire advanced on the prone agent, Lance struggled to his feet, he tossed his stake from his right to left. The druid vampire prepared another incantation, but Lance was quicker, he rammed the vampire to the ground, knocked out his teeth with his boot, and put two stakes through Brutus’s elbows pinning him to the ground.
Lance crouched down beside the pinned down vampire, holding his wounded arm.
“Tell me, Vampire, who’s Klaus, and what’s the whole ‘ceremonial schedule’?” Lance asked. The vampire opened his mouth, blood should have been spilling out of it, along with his elbows, but vampires have no blood, so only some ash came from his mouth, and bits of teeth.
“You can’t torture me for information, human, we vampires feel little pain, so I won’t talk.” Brutus spat at Lance, who sighed.
“Oh, sure feel no pain,” he pulled a bottle of holy water from his belt, yanked open his victim’s mouth and poured a single drop into the open mouth. Brutus shrieked in pain and convulsed violently. Steam came up from the vampire’s mouth and tears gathered in the corners of his eyes.
“Y-you think t-that will stop m-me? Ha, I have nothing to lose.” Two drops this time. Brutus was sobbing by the time he recovered.
“OK! I’ll talk! I’ll talk! By Dracula!” He gulped, “Klaus is the chief of my colony, and he wants to become a Duke in Dracula’s Court, and to rise from chief to royalty, one has to commit mass feeding (Vampires use feeding instead of murder) so Klaus has stolen-he’s stolen-”
“He’s stolen what, man, spit it out!” Lance shouted, slapping the vampire. Brutus grabbed the holy water bottle and swallowed it whole.
“NO!” Lance tried to grab the bottle from the monster, but it was too late, Brutus yelled in pain, sheer agony plain on his chalk white face, his red, silted pupil eyes wide, then he burned up, to a pile of ash. Lance got up, picking up his stakes.
“OK, this is serious, I’ve never seen a vampire commit suicide.” Lance talked into his walkie-talkie.
“Catch all that, Grey?”
“Grey’s taking a nap, this is Jason.” Said the voice that crackled out of the speaker.
“all right, Jason, you got all that?”
“Yes, sir, we’re chronicling anything the vampires say.”
“Good man, this would seem like your usual vampire chief trying to get more power, but this seems more serious, why aren’t there any Scotland Yard investigators here, Jason?”
“They’re held up with eradicating a witch cabal in Ireland.” Jason responded. Lance sighed.
“Always something. Well, over and out.” Lance headed into the gloom, making his way toward the fort.

Duncan Mackenzie slipped out of bed, he was fully dressed, he put on his shoes, grabbed a flashlight, and silently slipped out of the house. He headed to the eerie woods not far from his little home, a great blanket of darkness had settled over the area for several weeks now, though his friends from towns north of London said they had just had a full moon, he looked up, no moon. His watch told him it was 1:00 AM as he went into the unwelcome gloom of the wood. The reason for Duncan’s early morning venture was his dog, who had disappeared some days ago, his parents believed the dog dead, but Duncan had hope, that he might find his beloved pet. Every now and then, as he journeyed deeper into the forest, Duncan thought he saw shapes moving off in the mist, he pulled his jacket closer around him and continued onward. Duncan moved cautiously under two great oaks, covered in leaves, which was weird since it was autumn. He looked up, “the leaves” flared out when the light was shone on them, not a second too soon, Duncan ran from the angry vampire bats.

Lance stopped, he slipped behind a tree, he had seen that light again not far off, like someone with a flashlight. He started to creep forward, when he heard a surprised yelp, and the fluttering of leathery wings. He stepped back into a shadow, someone was running toward him, not a vampire, they don’t use lights. He reached out and grabbed the running person by the back of his jacket, pulling the person back into the cover of the branches. It was a boy, around thirteen, red hair, and that slight gangly look of a teenager. Lance held the struggling Duncan as the murderous colony of bats flew by.
“Stop struggling, boy, they’ll hear you.” Lance whispered viciously.
“But bats have excellent hearing, they should have heard us!” Duncan whispered back.
“Fortunately, these bats are in such a bloodthirsty rage, they’re not focusing very well.” Lance said as he looked around, all the monster bats had flown by, he dragged Duncan back out into the open.
“Now what in the name of God are you doing in this forest at this time of night?” Lance asked, his left eye focused on Duncan, his green eye
scanned the trees.
“Well, Sir, you see my dog, Lupin, he disappeared in these woods a few days ago, and my parents, they think he’s gone, but I decided I’d slip away and look for him, because I think he’s still alive.” Duncan replied, twisting his light in his hands, looking around nervously.
“And why didn’t you look during the day?” Lance growled.
“Well, my parents don’t want me rooting around in this forest, day or night, weird things are happening in here, and then there’s old man Cooper.” Lance looked at Duncan hopefully.
“Does Cooper live in a little cottage then?”
“Yes, sir, just over there a ways, in a little glade.” Duncan answered pointing off behind Lance. He grabbed the youth’s arm and started marching him in the direction of the cabin.
“I’m taking you to old man Cooper, your going to stay in his cabin until sun up.” He told Duncan, who was struggling against Lance’s iron grip.
“Wait, you haven’t even told me what ‘s so dangerous? And what in the world was up with those bats? It was like they wanted to eat me or something.” Lance turned to face the boy, both his eyes fixed on him.
“You believe in the existence of supernatural creatures, beyond normal perception?”
“You mean like angels, or aliens, or vampires, or fairy, or, uh, ?” Duncan asked, wonder plain on his face.
“Yes.” Lance said.
“Maybe, I guess, you know I’m open.”
“Well they’re all real, and this forest is infested with vampires.” Said Lance as he looked around for one. Duncan thought for a moment.
“That’s incredibly frightening and fascinating at the same time, and that raises some questions-” The questions Duncan would’ve asked probably would go on all night, if a vampire patrol had not interrupted.
“Down, boy, down!” Lance whispered, he grabbed Duncan and they ran behind a little knoll. Lance peaked over the top of the hillock, a band of vampires, ten or so in number, came marching through the mist, they all wore leather armor, and wielded a variety of piercing weapons, except one, who had pump-action shotgun resting on one shoulder. ‘Note to self, that vampire with the shotgun is going to be difficult’ Lance thought. Some of them stopped and started sniffing, they pulled there weapons from their sheaths and started searching the area, the gunslinging vampire pump his gun and looked around.
“Screw it all! I keep forgetting vampires can smell blood! Your going to have to get on my back.”
“Like a piggyback? I suppose-” Duncan crept behind Lance, just then the shotgun vampire came over to the knoll they were behind.
“Now, Duncan!” Lance dived forward, Duncan tightened his grip just in time, as the vampire raised his gun and cried out in alarm, Lance jumped and flipped over the amazed monsters, the shotgun blast missing his feet by inches. He grabbed a high up branch of a tree, and jumped from tree limb to tree limb, like a monkey, with inhuman agility, dodging shells and arrows. Duncan yelled in surprise, then he looked down.
“Hey, uh, Mr. DeMoi, there’s Cooper’s cabin.” Duncan said, the noise of vampires growing fainter and fainter. Lance dropped to the ground, he looked up, there ahead, on a little hill was Cooper’s house, Duncan slid off Lance’s back, they both started climbing the hill.
“OK, when we get inside, I want you to stay inside, vampires can’t enter human dwellings, Duncan?” Lance looked back, Duncan had stopped.
“Ow.” Said the youth, and fell forward, an arrow protruding from his back. Lance’s right eye could see in the blackness twenty or thirty vampire soldiers coming toward them, some had bows and crossbows, he saw the gunslinger among them. Lance grabbed his companion and dashed for the house, arrows hit the ground behind him, one hit him in the leg, he gasped and kept going. A light turned on in the cabin, a window opened, and some one with a crossbow strted shooting the oncoming Nocturnals. Lance was almost there, he was running through piles of ash, he saw something fly from the open window.
“Is that a-” He followed it with his eyes, the Molotov cocktail flew through the air, then smashed on the ground amongst the vampires. They leaped away, some on fire, running around screaming. The door of the cabin opened, a massive Wolf Hound leaped down the hill slamming vampires to the ground, tearing at their faces and throats. Lance ran through the open door, the crossbowman slammed it shut once the hound was back in.
“Vampires just don’t learn do they? Now let’s see to your friend.” Said Cooper, laying his crossbow against the wall.

Klaus studied the Rubik’s Cube he held in his hands, he turned it a few times, studied it some more, and turned parts of it. He looked at the aged pocket watch on the table in front of him, he had been doing this for fifteen seconds. The door of the dark, dingy room opened, a man entered, his hair was shaggy and gray, he had a feral look about him, except his eyes, which right now showed fear. Klaus looked at the man, and put one claw-like finger to his white lips, his other hand still worked the cube. He finished, and looked at the watch.
“Thirty seconds, a new record,” He put the Rubik’s cube away, and looked up at the messenger, “Yes, Edmund?” Klaus said, his evil red eyes setling on the perspiring werewolf. Edmund started to speak, but Klaus raised a hand.
“Is this bad news or good news?” He smiled maliciously, showing his vampiric fangs. The werewolf did’nt answer, but looked around fearfully.
“Exactly.” Klaus got up. When one thinks of vampires, they are usualy tall, and guant, and majestic in a frightning way. But Klaus was short, about five foot five, compact, and had a broad head, but he was an expert swordsman, he had killed more vampires and humans with his sword in his five hundred year life than any other vampire in the history of the UK. He walked over to the cowereing brute.
“You know what I do to bearers of bad news, werewolf?” Klaus said in a deadly calm voice, Edmund whimpered, his face full of horror.
“Nothing!” Klaus cackled, “I do nothing! Ha ha ha! You shoul’ve seen the look on your face! As I said I do nothing to messengers,” Edmund slowly joined in the laughter, “But the guards do.” Klaus was suddenly serious, the werewolf stopped laughing confused, three guards came in and took hold of the werewolf.
“Before you go, tell me your news, good werewolf.” Klaus said, his evil smile back up on his face.
“Some one’s here, he’s killed some of our patrolers, he knows. And he killed Brutus, the druid, who’s nest-mate is upset.”
“Mmm, that is bad,” Klaus turned to one of the guards, skin him in the courtyard so I can watch, then send in Brutus’s mate.” The guards left the room, dragging the doomed werewolf behind them. Klaus went to his wardrobe, he pulled out a long, slender yew box, he opened it. Lying on black velvet was his sword, a three-foot long, Celtic-style blade, he took it out.
“Let’s put a smile on that face.” He chuckled.


Last edited by The Archivist. on Mon Nov 30, 2009 3:23 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Re: Short, delectable, bite-sized, Stories.

Post by The Archivist. on Mon Nov 30, 2009 3:17 pm

This is it so far, enjoy. Very Happy
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Re: Short, delectable, bite-sized, Stories.

Post by Moshda on Mon Nov 30, 2009 9:32 pm

wow, very dramatic! I'll edit it tomorrow, right now I'm very sleepy so I'm off to bed!

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Re: Short, delectable, bite-sized, Stories.

Post by The Archivist. on Fri Feb 12, 2010 2:25 pm

I'm on the final stages of completing Lance DeMoi and the Blood Wand. So, I'll put it up here soon-ish.
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Re: Short, delectable, bite-sized, Stories.

Post by Moshda on Fri Feb 12, 2010 6:32 pm

Awesome! I'm looking forward to it!
When you get around to posting more, you should post it in a new topic, so you can keep the comments that people make about each part separated and less confusing. Wink

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A Lance DeMoi story intro I came up with.

Post by The Archivist. on Sun Feb 21, 2010 6:57 pm

I came up with this after seeing the new Sherlock Holmes movie.
Lance DeMoi and the Eldritch Machine.
Lance sifted through the cracked, dirty sheafs of parchment. Otto and Chester looked around the dark and dirty New York apartment. DPIR agents guarded the door and marked and examined the crime scene. Chester felt different objects in his tentacles, and Otto scrutinized technical diagrams and bits of machinery. Lance looked up at the pale, emaciated body lying on the table. Otto walked over and looked at the corpse.
"It looks like a vampire attack." He said, pointing at the two marks on the body's neck. Lance shook his head.
"There's no venom in his bloodstream, and the distance and angle of the marks aren't right for a vampire. Whoever murdered him wanted it to look like a vampire, or he stuck him with a needle twice for whatever reason. Besides, the landlord found ol' Corpsey in the building, a vampire can't enter human dwellings."
Otto was silent for a moment, then he snapped his metal fingers.
"Alison and I were investigating a murder in Philadelphia, same two marks in his neck and emaciated look, and he was an old master mechanic. Otto dug around in the dead man's pockets, and withdrew his wallet. He took out his ID.
"Maxwell Krauss." He said. Lance stood up and looked at Krauss's passport and license.
"And an electrician." Lance said.
"So... the murderer is a Luddite?" Otto chuckled.
"Or Mr. Murder likes taking out his contacts?" Said Lance, "All the big bad mysterious bad guys do that, it's overdone."
Chester floated over to them, the Dweller's tattoos glowed slightly.
"Magic has been worked here, it lingers still in the air." Chester said in his squeaky voice.
"So, Krauss is, or was, in on something. You know like," Lance raised his eyebrows, "Something."
Otto tapped his nose with a finger, "I get you."
Lance's cell phone started ringing, he looked at the caller ID.
"Ah, it's Bianca."
He answered the cell phone, "I knew you'd finally call me!"
"No, Lance, no. Anyway, Sirius and I are in DC, it's a murder, exactly like the one Otto and Alison investigated early this month; two puncture wounds in the neck, and-"
"And a shriveled up corpse, oh and some master technician or something. Exactly like what were looking at."
"Our stiff was some crusty plumber, very experienced though." Bianca said over the phone.
"A mechanic, electrician, and plumber. Someone wanted something examined or fixed, and something magic too. But also something secret. Bad guys are so predictable." Lance said.
"Kain van Hompt wasn't predictable." Otto said, smiling. Lance's face flushed red.
"That was because he could mess with your brain and stuff, just like be quiet Otto."
"DC, Philadelphia, and New York, all three cities sit on the same ley line, now we should expect a similar murder in Boston." Chester said.
"So, a murdering Luddite magician wants a magic machine, an infernal mix of sorcery and technology."
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Re: Short, delectable, bite-sized, Stories.

Post by Moshda on Wed Mar 17, 2010 10:15 am


Archivist,
When you are posting sections of your story at seperate times, please put them in seperate posts. This makes it easier to read, and it will be easier for you to tell which person's feedback goes with which section of your story Wink

Please let me know if "Lance DeMoi and the Blood Wand" is going to be made up of multiple chapters. If it is, I will move this thread to the novel section.

~Moshda

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Re: Short, delectable, bite-sized, Stories.

Post by The Archivist. on Wed Mar 17, 2010 12:43 pm

Oh, sorry, I'll remember that.
No, it won't be made up of chapters.
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Re: Short, delectable, bite-sized, Stories.

Post by Moshda on Wed Mar 17, 2010 12:52 pm

Could you please repost the Lance DeMoi story intro? (the second post of your story that you made in this thread)
Thanks!

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Re: Short, delectable, bite-sized, Stories.

Post by The Archivist. on Mon Mar 22, 2010 8:42 am

I think I'll hold off on reposting it until I have more to follow.
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Re: Short, delectable, bite-sized, Stories.

Post by Moshda on Mon Mar 22, 2010 4:49 pm

Ok. Just don't forget later! ^_~

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Re: Short, delectable, bite-sized, Stories.

Post by Delilah Roze on Fri Apr 23, 2010 6:07 am

It is so nice to have an evil vampire story for a change. I read both of them and thought they were both really good! Keep up the good work!
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Re: Short, delectable, bite-sized, Stories.

Post by The Archivist. on Fri Apr 23, 2010 8:35 am

well, I wrote them so of course they're good Smile
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Re: Short, delectable, bite-sized, Stories.

Post by Delilah Roze on Fri Apr 23, 2010 8:41 am

Har har. Razz
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Re: Short, delectable, bite-sized, Stories.

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