Huh. I'm surprised there hasn't been a response by now.

Are y'all on strike?

I'll join.

Hey!

I've been writing a lot of things, and They all can be found on my DeviantArt profile

At 12/26/07 11:45 PM, GreyLord5 wrote: Huh. I'm surprised there hasn't been a response by now.

Heh, sorry. Xmas and all that = ) Been busy.

At 12/26/07 11:51 PM, Hellian00 wrote: Are y'all on strike?

Nope just busy.

At 12/27/07 12:24 PM, sacredfire059 wrote: I'll join.

Welcome = )

At 12/27/07 12:30 PM, jipostus wrote: Hey!

I've been writing a lot of things, and They all can be found on my DeviantArt profile

I'll be sure to check it out later today.

Feel free to psot soem stuff people and I can have a quick scan of it for you = )

And just to try and inject some life and discussion into the place:

I had a rather nifty image appear in my head of a man dressed in a jacket with tails, suit trousers a waistcoat and a top hat carrying a cane walking down a street. The street in question is out of place for the way he is dressed. The street is from a dystopian future, dilapidated, run down, you get the picture.

The man walks down the street with the William tell overture in the background and as the piece comes to some form of ending he knocks three times on a door in time with the music, the door opens, once more in time with the music, closes and you see him tap the end of his cane on the floor in time to the final note of the piece.

This image in my mind for some reason made me think of the character of the man walking down the street.

His name is Caspian, he is in effect a lovable rogue. He is a silver tongued devil, yet has no interest in women as they no longer pose a challenge to him. He lives for challenges. It is this which has brought into the employment of the seedier members of the world who use him to gather information.

Caspian's current employer gives him a task of working his way into the inner circle of a lady of one of the upper classes, the wife of an ambassador. He is to try and use a relationship with her to gather information on the ambassadors plans on a conflict which Caspian's employers are currently making a nice profit from. They want the plans so they can ensure the conflict continues.

Caspian has trouble breaking into the wifes circle, for she distrusts him. Caspian lives for challenges however and redoubles his efforts to win her over. His attempts result in him drawing a genuine affection for the woman, a genuine friendship and relationship that he, despite his charming facade and bravado, has never had.

Caspian obtains the information his employers want but after a conversation with the ambassador's wife he finds he can not betray her trust and refuses to give the information to his employers. He doe snot however tell them this face to face. He sends them a message giving him time to make some preparations, for they will kill him for betraying them. He writes a letter to the ambassador's wife, explaining the situation. As the wife is reading the letter with a voice over from Caspian, Caspian is confronted by his employers who kill him.

Thoughts and ideas as this as a plot?

At 12/27/07 02:08 PM, Tri-Nitro-Toluene wrote:

At 12/26/07 11:45 PM, GreyLord5 wrote: Huh. I'm surprised there hasn't been a response by now.

Heh, sorry. Xmas and all that = ) Been busy.

Alright, does this mean I'm in?

...Hello? Anyone home? Echo!

I started writting something about a year ago now, and wrote a little more a few months ago.
Before continuing, i'd love a few opinions. Be honest, if you think it's shit, tell me. Hell, i'll probably agree.

Apart from the obvious "what do you think", i'd also like to know weather you understood it.
The story will deal with things like drugs, smoking, alcohol, etc.
So i'm using words like skins, roach, blunts, etc. I know what they mean, but if the reader dosen't i'll be pretty fucked now wont i? :)

---

Davey edgily made his way towards the corner shop. This area was a pretty rough at the best of times, and although he was no coward he knew that the thugs who lived in the street never hung out alone. There was always a bit of extra muscle with them or worse, a knife. Deaths in the residence were far from uncommon, and injuries even more so. It seemed every day people were walking into lampposts or falling down stairs. The obituaries in the local paper took up more than seven pages most days and after a good weekend they were always into double figures.
The shop was in seeing distance now. He knew it well, and privately thought he could reach it from his own house with both eyes closed. Maybe I'll try that one day, he thought as he stepped inside and threw down his hood. "Evenin' Rosie" he called out to the woman in the back. "Orite there Davey" she replied, a note of apprehension vanishing from her voice as she came threw to the front and locked her eyes on the familiar face. "Thought I'd see your ugly mug in here soon enough. It must'a been what? Four days since you last bought that bacci. God knows it doesn't last you more than two most of the time, let alone four." Her bright face beamed at him from behind the counter. Davey gave a small smile back. "Not worried are you Rosie? If I cut down your profits would fall by about half wouldn't they, not to mention your wages. Minimum wage would seem like a fuckin' dream I reckon." "Two right it would" she replied wearily handing over his Bacci. "You need skins and filters as well?" she asked as an afterthought. "Nah, just the bacci ta Rosie" responded Davey quickly. He had a mountain of both rolling papers and filter tips stashed around his room. Working on a stall that sold them really came in handy. Especially with no conciseness to stop him helping himself. Shame they didn't sell tobacco or tabs.
Davey dug into his pocket, extracted his wallet and handed over a fiver. "You want the twelve change, cause the charity box is callin' for it if not" questioned Rosie while fiddling about with the till. "Charity starts at home" replied Davey, holding out his hand. "You'll never know when you need twelve pence." "True enough" she reasoned handing over his change." Davey made for the door. "See ya Rosie." "Aye, catch you later Davey lad" she said as the door slammed behind him.
Sitting on the wall outside, Davey pulled his recently bought Bacci out of his pocket, along with a loose pack of papers. He quickly got to work, and within 20 seconds he had rolled quite a cigarette. His mates had nicknamed him "The Human Rolling Machine" and he knew he lived up to the reputation. He shoved the tobacco in his stash tin and tossed it his trouser pocket. Placing the cigarette in his mouth, he reached into his jacket's inside pocket and pulled out a pristine condition Zippo. Thinking back to the weeks he had saved up to buy it, a small smile flittered across his otherwise dark and emotionless face. A man should take pride in his lighter, he thought as he sparked up and inhaled deeply.
He was home in good time, and made straight for his room. The house was in the usual state of disgrace, and his father appeared to be out somewhere. Down the pub most likely thought Davey. It was for the best in his opinion. He liked the house to himself, and while he new he had a decent relationship with the old man, he new a lot of the time it was strained. Ever since his mother walked out a few years ago, his dad had struggled to cope with the everyday things he used to take for granted. Paying the bills, tidying up and getting the shopping in suddenly became major tasks. He knew how much he missed his wife, but he also knew that she just couldn't stay here. She wanted more from life than to be sat in a pub every night, drinking her life away with the rest of the sad losers surrounding her. His father wouldn't changed his age-old ways, and a divorce was inevitably on the cards. Four or so years on, here was Davey. A decent lad at first glance, but a totally different book under the cover. It saddened him to think what his mother would say if she could see him now, but he silently reasoned with himself. He did what he did because he had to. Dealt a hand like a foot in the game of life, he needed to take every opportunity, shortcut and opening he was graced with.
He wasn't one of those kids born into a wealthy family, who got everything they ever wanted with little or no work. He didn't come home from school everyday and get asked how his day was, or what his plans where for the rest of the night. Davey was your typical working class teen, who just so happened to know a thing or two about a thing or two. He knew money was essential for both necessity's and luxury's and was willing to do whatever he needed to, both legal and illegal, in order to get it. He knew that he had a roof over his head, a TV in the living room and a kitchen with food in, but he also knew what other people had, compared to him. He wasn't on the bottom rung of society, but he was far, far from the top.
Davey collapsed onto his bed fully clothed, and became lost in his own deep thoughts. Tomorrow was Friday, which meant he had to spend an unconstructive 6 or 7 hours in the hellhole that was Saint Thomas's. School was a total waste of time in his opinion, and he knew that his future lay a long way from education. The weekend was really all that kept him going. He was working all day Saturday which put a bit of cash in his pocket, and new that there was a good possibility of a party come the night. With the thought of alcohol, cigarettes, drugs, money and a certain young lady etched firmly in his head, Davey slowly drifted off to sleep.
"Lend us a tab will ya mate?" Davey turned and saw Ross come jogging up towards him. Tall, tanned skin and a face full of freckles, one of his oldest acquaintances. As Ross drew level with him he began coughing loudly. "From the sounds of it bud, its in the best interest of your health for me to not lend you one" smiled Davey slyly. "C'mon man, don't mess me about, this morning of all fucking mornings. Slept in didn't ah? Missed breakfast, and had to sprint all the way from mine to here. If anyone ever badly needed a smoke, its me an' now." "Go on then" replied Davey, producing two cigarette's he'd rolled earlier that morning from his inside pocket. "I'll have one with ya, an you can pay us back at the party tomorrow" "Cheers dude", said Ross sincerely, as he sparked up, and inhaled desperately. "Party's definitely on then?" he queried, as he and Davey continued along the all too familiar route to school. "Aye, it will be" said Davey confidently. "Jason's parents are away until about 11 on Sunday, so we should be good to go." "Quality" replied Ross as they turned the corner leading to Saint Thomas's.

Too long, second part will follow shortly.

The early sun beat down on there backs as they made there way closer to the main gate. "Who you reckons gonna be there then?" wondered Ross aloud, throwing the remains of his cigarette in a nearby gutter. "Oh you know, the usual group of twats" winked Davey. "You, me, Jason obviously, Tom if he can persuade his parents and Johnny will probably be there." "Lasses?" enquired Ross. Davey fell silent for a moment. He knew the answer, but was lost in thought. Just thinking her name seemed to stop him in his tracks nowadays. "Melissa and them lot." He couldn't bring himself to say her name. "Izzy?" Obviously Ross had no such quarrels. Davey tried to sound casual, "Aye probably". "Gonna try and get stuck into her again?" questioned Ross, with a quick wink. "Dunno mate" he replied. "The sober me says it's a fucking bad idea, but 10 cans might change that." Ross shook his head smiling. "You're a fucking head case you lad, you know that?" Davey knew it alright, he'd known it for the past few years now. Ross seemed to read his mind. "What's it been now?" he continued, "Two years? Two and a half?". Davey was well aware it was well past three. "Leave it eh?" he pleaded. He was in no mood to talk about his three years of failure. Disaster after disaster all over one girl. One amazing girl. Brief stints of success did nothing to dampen the many disasters that had stemmed from his feelings for her. Izzy fucking Robinson.
They reached school without further mention of her. Davey's mood was even lifted slightly with talk of the nights supplies. "What you reckon then?" quizzed Ross. He thought for a second. "Aright, lets say there's nine of us in attendance; you, me, Jason, Tom, Johnny, Melissa, Rosie, Steph and Izzy." Ross nodded. "What you fancy drink-wise?" "You know I'm a Fosters man" he replied casually. "When you gonna develop a bit of taste lad?" grimaced Davey. "Fosters for fucks sake?" "Cant beat it man." Ross shot back. "Fine, whatever. So that's ten cans of Fosters, ten Guinness for yours truly, and ten a piece for Jason, Tom and Johnny." "Bout fifty quid?" Ross wondered aloud. "Aye, maybe a bit less if a few of the others want Guinness or Fosters and we can buy crates o' twenty." They had made there way into school now and were loitering at the top end. With a good five minutes to kill Davey saw no reason not to continue the financial planning. "Women's drinks?" enquired Ross leaning against the gate. "They've been drinking WKD and Reef the past few times, so I'd put a fair bit of money on it being that." "How much do the puff drinks go for these days then?" Ross shouted, struggling to be heard over the sirens of a passing cop car. "Can't say I'm an expert on the subject, but I'd hazard a good guess at about eight English pounds for a pack of ten or twelve bottles." "Pricey..." commented Ross. "Your right my son, but it keeps the ladies happy, and that's what counts. "Suppose" reasoned Ross. "That it for the drinks then?" he added. "Almost. Add another tenner onto the total for 70cl of average vodka and were all set." Davey did a few quick sums in his head. "Fifty; beer, sixty; vodka, thirty for the lasses. That's ninety pounds of our hard earned cash for the drink." "Worth every penny" added Ross smiling, Davey heartily agreed.
"I'll assume it's a 20 pack of cigarettes each for you guys and 50g of bacci for thyself." he went on. "Damn straight" exclaimed Ross, his eyes shining brightly at the mere mention of tabs. "Lambert super kings for me if they've got 'em. Richmond super kings will do otherwise." he added as an afterthought. Davey shook his head. "Why do you insist on smoking those overpriced sticks of shit? Bacci is the way forward man, and you know it." Ross wasn't fazed. "It's cheaper, I'll give you that, but it's a pain in the ass to role 'em, plus you gotta buy skins and filters to go with. Having debated this at least a dozen times in the past, Davey was ready and got out his counter-argument quickly. "Rollin's a synch once you master it, and you know as well as I do I can lay my hands on hundreds of skins and filters from work. You can pay pretty much the same price for 30 or 40 smokes of Bacci rather than 10 tabs." A bell sounded in the near distance. Registration had began. They started on the familiar path to there form room. "Right then, that's 25 quid for the smokeables, bringing the needed funds up to 110. Ross groaned slightly. "When did evenings in become so costly?" he wondered aloud. Davey tossed the question around in his head. "Since we started drinking beer and smoking tabs and tac I reckon." "Yeah, probably right" replied Ross with a sheepish grin.
Davey continued with there proverbial shopping list. "So that's drink and tabs taken care of, what about the illegal substances were privileged enough to have access to?" Ross lowered his voice slightly. Admittedly there school wasn't one of these posh private types, more a public shit hole for any old riff-raff. Still, it was always better to be a tad sly about these things. Why take unnecessary risks was Davey's motto, and one that he tried to embed in each and every one of his friends brains. "The usual 50 deal?" asked Ross. "Aye, that should be enough. We'll get a good few joints out of it and mixed with the drink, it should be another good night all round." "Sound." muttered Ross, as the pair of them headed into registration.
The five of them were stood just outside the school gates. Five cigarettes shared among five individuals. Davey, Jason, Tom, Ross and Johnny. Davey was relaying the plan he had put together in Science to the rest of them. "So yeah if everything goes according to plan, you lot meet me at work at ten to four, I'll give you the smoking sundries, while the other lass is upstairs." "Doesn't this plan depends heavily on weather the lass you work with actually goes upstairs before you leave?" Johnny butted in. Davey was unfazed. He'd concocted many a plan in his time, and hardly ever left anything to chance. Unless of course it couldn't be helped. "Trust me" he answered confidently. "In the year I've been working there, she's went upstairs for a cigarette just before I leave every single Saturday bar none." "Fair enough" accepted Johnny. "Anyway" Davey kept on "After I've finished, we'll go see big Dave and see if he can sort us 50 quid's worth." Break was just about over now, and people were heading to lessons. A crowd of kids however, remained just outside the boundaries of St Thomas's. Finishing a cigarette was about ten times as important as lessons to this particular group.

---

To long still, third part to follow.

Davey rounded on Tom. "Reckon your brother will be around tomorrow mate?" he questioned. "Aye I reckon so, until about seven or eight anyway. Then he'll be off downtown." "Excellent" added Jason enthusiastically. Davey silently agreed. If someone wasn't around to get them stocked up with drink, it could lead to annoying and awkward circumstances. No one wanted to be stood outside ASDA for an hour or two looking for someone willing to buy a bunch of underage youths a shit load of alcohol. "So, we'll head to yours after we see Dave, get him to drive us down in his van, and give him a pack of tabs for his trouble." "I'll double check tonight if he's up for it, and shoot you a text giving you the word. Should be ok though." A thin smile crept across Davey's face. He was in his element here. Plotting, scheming, drink, drugs. "Safe" he added. The group threw there cigarettes on the floor, stubbed them out and headed to there various lessons. "Now the only bit of bad news this plan offers" he began, "the cost." He could see the crestfallen looks upon there faces already. Not a job between the four of them, money was always tight. "The total comes to about £160, so I'll cover the hundred, and between you four and the four women, cover the other sixty. Sixty divided by 8 of you comes to about £7.50 a piece, which I'm sure even you lot can stretch to." The change in their expression's was prominent within seconds. £7.50 was after all, a hell of a lot better than £160. "Cheers Davey mate, good lad" echoed around him for a few minutes, until they had departed each others company, each off to different lessons. Davey headed to Maths, the smile back on his face. Roll on Saturday he thought as he pushed open the door to Room 23. Top set Maths.

im making a story
can i be in?

Well, please give me some few pointer's on this, it's my first time trying out to be a writer, so please read and comment.

*This story is dedicated to D-Day, and my version on what happen on the beaches*

A young lad named Louis, 17, a full blooded Frenchmen, who survived a total chaos in 1940 when Germany took France, remembered the ill moments he had. He had lost his entire family in the London bomb raid, and he will fulfill his brothers dream before he died, his brother wanted to join the army, so Louis joins to fulfill it.Once he grew to the age of 17, he signed up for the British Army, and they took him in well. He was amazingly clever, and quick to action and a quick thinker also (meaning he was able to get out of a situation with quick action while thinking ahead). He soon became a Sergeant(the previous one were dropping like flies for god sake), after his training, and going up the ranks rather quickly, but has never entered the war. Now he is participating in the WW2 effort against Hitler and his Nazis, by asking the current General of Britain, General Dempsey, to join the British 2nd Army, and take back France!

Setting: June 6th, 1944. Gold Beach, Normandy.

It was all quiet on the boat. No one talked, no one made a whisper. They were all ready, they soon prayed, and saw that they were drawing close to the shore. Louis, who was at the time, vomiting after a few minutes, wiped his mouth and asked his Captain, 'Sir, what will we do once we hit shore?", the Captain of Louis squad soon replied, in a ill manor, "Lad, the Germans have machine guns mounted up their at least 20 meters apart from each other from their post. We'll hope that the few men in front of us will provide cover for us once they start shooting. Once you hear guns shooting, jumped over and make a run for shelter up on the shore. You got that? From their, I'll lead the remainder of the squad and try to make a way up their posts and take them out.". Louis, replied with a sad reply, "Yes sir". He knew what was going to happen, their going to sacrifice the men up in front of the boat to provide cover, once we jump on the side of the boat.

The man who was driving the boat up shore soon called over to the 40 men, "We have reached the shore!! Get ready for the hatch to drop! You have at least 30 seconds till it drops!" The men were quivering. Some now started vomiting. The others, had their warlike faces on them, ready to kill, ready for shelter..or perhaps..ready to die.

We hit shore, with a thud, all soldiers seem to rocked forward from the force. the wheel on the hatch soon spin wildly, then the hatch dropped. The first few men who were about to go on the beach got hit by so much bullets, it caused some of the blood on their backs to appear, like a vapor of water. The captain, realizing that they better get off the boat quick, yelled out for all soldiers to jump on the side of the boat and swim to shore.

Louis jumps out of the boat, then a bullet nearly grazes him on his cheek, he stood their panic, facing war for the first time, then he hurries himself towards the beach, which already has a couple of men dead. Once he reaches the shore, he dives toward some sort of metal cross, which was laying on the wet sand. He stood their scared, as he watch men died, who were still on the boat, trying desperately to get on the beach and seek shelter. He soon sees his Captain calling him out, 'What the fuck are you doing?!?!" then he gets head shot, and falls rather awkward.

At that moment the rest of his squadron was behind shelter, and trying to survive the onslaught of machine bullets. Once he closes his eye's, we drift back in time 4 years later. When he was 13.

The beginning of the story.

Setting: May 26th, 1940 Paris, France 2:46 p.m. (i just randomly chose the daytime in Paris.)

There used to be a wonderful place, full of fun and laughter, where all was so joyful. News had reached us that Great Britain and France are keeping the Germans at bay. People knew it was WW2, but the propaganda of each nation kept giving it citizens false info and hope. As i stood their, in the heart of Paris my brother(11) and I(13) were walking home back from school.

We were both walking down the streets, with our heads held high, though my brother kept glancing at the French soldiers who were walking down the opposite street that we just came from. My brother admired them for a particular reason. High boots, shiny rifles, Blue and White uniform, walking in straight lines. My brother said he would like to join the military one day. Me, well, i love art so i'm going the opposite direction then my brother. We were 2 years apart but at the time, we didn't know what war had installed for us.

Once we reached the countryside where my parents lived, we raced home, waving our arms excitedly. Mother was making her best soup today for dinner so we couldn't wait. As we got home, our mother greeted us, kissed and hugged us, and hurried my brother and i inside, rather quickly. We asked her what was the rush, but all she did was pestered us inside.

Our father, who worked in Paris, as a businessman, said he'd be coming home late. As we sat their eating our mother soup, our mother sat on the sofa, and turned on the radio. Suddenly, their was an huge announcement on the radio. "The Germans has just invaded Belgium! Paris is now asking all French Citizens to evacuate! This is not a joke! The Germans took Belgium!" We stood their, staring at each other, first my brother then my mother, we all knew if we wouldn't leave, we were for sure doomed.

As we rushed into the heart of Paris, people were running with their belongings, dropping here and their, as if they were about to get bombed on. We quickly found our father, where he usually works at. We soon gathered our things from their, and got in our automobile. We soon head for the English Channel, so we can go to the British, since during the time, their navy has been the strongest, and was France ally. We soon arrived at a port city called Dunkirk. The port was so very crowded. We saw the French Military their, they all seem, out of breath, and their eye's, bulging. The French soldiers were actually digging up trenches into the grassy sand layered, which was near the beach. It appears that they thought, they were going back to WW1, and looking forward to trench warfare. It really looked like they were over-working themselves. Each soldier with a shovel in hand, kept digging deeper and deeper, till you couldn't see their blue helmets. It took us nearly 5-6 hours to get on a boat ready, thats when i heard a big bang, and when a passenger ship, filled with people, soon exploded. I saw people screaming and jumping into the air, being blown to bits!

I soon saw the German tanks, firing away at the boats, and the French military, this was only about at least 500 yards away, but they shot from a great distance! What made me so amazed when i saw their tanks, how enormousness and powerful it was. It was crushing all the obstacles in its way, destroying everything. We soon hurried into the boat, and the boat stirred to life, heading forward to Britain. Feeling safe and sound, yet scared, i tried and watch on how our French military holding up. I gasp in horror. Half of them were running, the other half running turning back and fire, and continue to run toward the channel. They were all panicking, soon Air planes that made a screeching noise almost came near us, and dropped a bomb on a other passenger's shiped. I nearly cried, when i saw how many peopled died.

Right next to me, my brother was crying loudly, while my mother, extremely worried, grasp her son, and tried to give him comfort. While my father(who knew what the hell was he thinking) tried to help with the sailor men. As i looked back at the beach, the Royal Navy of Britain, soon rescued the French soldiers, and quickly tried to get out. As we were far away from the beaches, I saw, so many German tanks, i gasp at how powerful the Germans were. As we finally reached Britain the next day, we were told we were one of the lucky survivor's that were trying to escape through the English channel. 300,000 French soldiers survived the horrible attack from Germany. About 30,000 lost their lives on the beaches that night.

So i thought to myself. "This is what war is

"This is what war is? Basically, coming out here to die, at unbeatable odds? And we were so early into the war, we already lost? I pray we survive this..." After i thought of this, i cried silently, once we were put, where we would be sleeping, i just hope this bloody war will end.

Continuation of the D-Day invasion.

Setting: June 6th, 1944. Gold Beach, Normandy.

Back on Gold Beach, the 1sdt Division Army were holding up on the beach, while men desperately try too seek something to get behind on. Louis, now back in reality, heard one of his privates asking him with a loud voice, since machine gun fire was still making most of the noise, "Sir! What will we do now?! The Captain dead!".

Louis, at the time, wasn't thinking straight, everything slowed for him. He saw blood, soaked into the ocean waters, and sand. Immense bodies were falling rapidly on each of the landing boats. all soldiers who were in the front of the boat, rather died quickly, after the hatched had dropped. He saw dead men, still alive. He saw men belly crawling, with no legs, just intestines spilling out and dragging along. He saw a man, looking frequently for something, till he had bend over and picked up a arm, his missing arm.

Louis, now realizing his private talking to him, soon replied in a mournful voice, "Private...find the remainder of the squad! Were going to try to take cover over that sand hill! (Note: The Germans during the time, when they were building fortifications to the defense, they had created a at least, 5ft sand hill, all along the coastal line) Once we reach the hill, were going to have to bomb the trench, so while the explosion lifts the smoke, we'll run up, over the hill, and cover, and find a position to snipe the machine gunners. The rally point is where i'll be! Right here! Now get going!!"

The private soon nodded, and started gathering the remainder of the squad. 24 left...Louis thought to himself. It was enough. So he told the squad the plan, and get ready in a matter of moments. When Louis, got he momentum back, soon yelled, "Alright, everyone now! Move! Straight Line!". Louis soon ran towards the hill, barely almost already getting blown up by a mine bomb, though the 2 men behind him were caught in the explosion, and were snapped like sticks, now blood raining over the squad. Louis soon reaches the sand hill, dodging machine gun fire, and dives towards the hill. Soon the rest of the squad makes it, though one lagged behind and soon got shot 5 times and collapse.

Louis makes a count and only has 21 left, so he tells everyone to prepare grenades. Once everyone had a grenade in hand, they all pulled the ring out, and threw it in the trenches. An huge eruption of smoke, sand, and clouds were lifted, blinding the machine gunners. The squad soon climbs over the hill, and ran up to a almost destroyed wall, but it was 4 foot thick, so it would protect them from machine fire for now. Louis now sweating, yelled, "Corporal Henry, get your ass here on the double!" A rather short man, about 5 "5", came running towards Louis, with a sniper in his hand. "Alright Henry, were going to provide you cover, once we start firing, I want you to run down the hole, they won't notice you if you can keep low. Ready?" Henry replied in a excited manner, "Yes sir!, just make sure i don't die!" He quickly got into position, ready to run. Louis signaled his private, and gaved the order. "Alright, you 4 men, come with me! Provide cover and shoot the Germans! Ready?........Now!" The 5 men soon ran out past the wall, on the right side and layed on the ground, firing rounds.

Ther Germans soon replied with heavy machine guns bullets. Soon with that little conflict, Corporal Henry was running like a mad man, and soon got to the hole, safely. He was getting into position......

IMPORTANT: READ THIS!

Greetings,

Recently has been created the ''Newgrounds Story Library'', with the purpose of hosting and showcasing stories written by our users. It's not completely ''official'' yet, but it has the endorsement of the mods (and the participation of a few). If you'd like to add to the library some stories you've written, please send a PM to that account with the following information:

- Title (with a link to the blog post in which you have the story).
- Genre.
- Any additional information/comments.

PLEASE DON'T SEND THE PM TO THIS ACCOUNT. Send it here.

At the moment we are trying to archive all existing stories, and for doing so I've contacted all those who had posted in the Story Advertisement Thread. Now I'm informing those in this guild and in the writer's club: send all your current stories and the ones you make in the future to the library.

NOTE: It is necessary that all stories are posted in a separate blog post, so if you posted a story in a topic or have multiple stories in a single blog post, please take the time to post them all individually in different blog posts and send the links. It is also recommended that comments are enabled, but that's optional.

All comments or suggestions, please make them here in the meantime.

Thanks for your cooperation.

This is the first poem I have even put anywhere the general public can a see, so tell me what you think!
My poem, titled: The Land That Nature Stole.

The only thing, more satisfying the a life complete,
Is looking out, over The Land That Nature Stole.
Pain and bloodshed have no place here,
As this is The Land That Nature Stole.
Air as sweet as a child's smile, and earth richer then gold,
All abound in The Land That Nature Stole.
Mystery and wonder summoned the best, but this land humbled them,
The mighty Land That Nature Stole.
This is our home, and we share it well. A land where the skin is pealed away,
To reveal our hearts, residing in The Land That Nature Stole.
They beat in unison, no matter where we come from.
Together, with The Land That Nature Stole.
This is Australia, The Land That Nature Stole.

Curious...

anyone still around these days? My writing has been scarice these last few months.... i need a jolt. I'd like to read through and comment if anyone has anything new. If you would prefer light comments than critique, let me know in advance.

Myst

At 12/8/08 09:32 AM, gumOnShoe wrote: http://webpub.allegheny.edu/student/K/ki rklib/

it seems pretty cool... i browsed around the site, let me know when it can be heard.. who is this by the way?

I somtimes write short storys in my free time, and i'm ok at drawing. Mind if i jump on and join?

At 12/8/08 10:13 PM, OillSpillJack wrote: I somtimes write short storys in my free time, and i'm ok at drawing. Mind if i jump on and join?

feel free my friend, I would like something to read

At 12/7/08 11:21 PM, MystWilliams wrote: Curious...

anyone still around these days? My writing has been scarice these last few months.... i need a jolt. I'd like to read through and comment if anyone has anything new. If you would prefer light comments than critique, let me know in advance.

Myst

Well, if you want to check out my stories you are more than welcome. I like critical analysis of my writing ... I'm not too into 'this is good' or 'awesome story' type of comments. They don't give me any real information. I look forward to hearing what you have to say.

I'm whoring out the Storybook Project (a collab for Artists and Writers)! We need stories that would work well as illustrated books. If you have anything that would fit, or want to write something specifically for the collab, please check the thread!

Thanks :D

I write occasionally when I have the time, and while I don't claim to be a master I've been told I have at least some semblance of talent in my words. Currently I am working on something I've been writing for a friend's amusement that I could definitely use some objective critiquing on. Aside from that I haven't been doing much and could really use something to spark my muse. Perhaps this "guild" is what I need.

Wow, two writers area, except this one is bigger.

I'm trying to get an animator but so far I don't think I'm going about it the right way.
I'm kinda hoping that posting and hanging around the BBS that I'll be able to make some connections...
:\

On the other hand I do already have some voice actors who've voiced interest if the project gets some more support.

Then again are Audio Skits allowed on the Audio Portal?

At 12/14/08 08:40 AM, gumOnShoe wrote:

At 12/13/08 04:23 AM, Xorias wrote: Then again are Audio Skits allowed on the Audio Portal?

Yeah, you just have to post them as Voice Acting or give them some sort of beat and put them in miscellaneous. If you check out my favorites you'll see Scribbler, a guy who used to visit this club all the time, did exactly that.

I'd go the voice actor route honestly and try to get popular that way, then maybe pick up an animator later. Radio before TV you know?

I just may give it a try.
Kinda makes all the "scene background" remarks in the script pointless for it but you have to kill a race or two to commit genocide.

...

Why did I choose that kind of analogy?!

Yayyy!!! I'm glad I found this place. I have lots of writing already done. While my expressive way of relaying how I feel massacres the English language (See "Yayyy!!!" at the beginning of my post), I'm hoping my writing is a little bit better. I still do that sometimes, though.
I havn't told you all what I write yet... I write backstories for songs. Have you ever read the flavor text on a trading card? That's basically what a backstory is, except it goes with a song. I'll give you a link to the song, as well as my story that goes with it. Please tell me whether you like the story or not, and if you want, rate it on a scale of 1-10. 10 being best, 1 being the worst.
I'm so happy I found this! Until NG gets a Writing Portal, I can post here! I can also post here after a Writing Portal gets put in, too. Enough of my rambling. Here is the writing. By the way, the writing is mine. No one else's. All mine. Don't use it without asking me.
The song is "Star Wolf's Army" by BowserThedestructive.
Link to the Song: Star Wolf's Army
A grey wolf stood over an arrangement of pilots, barking orders and constantly howling. It had taken Wolf seven years to form this army, and he would not fail this time.
He spent countless hours hand picking and training each recruit, until each pilot was capable of destroying that wretched Fox in their sleep.

The time had come, and Wolf was ready.
He inspected his ship of terror, the ship of the blood-red wolf, the ship he would ride into chaos, and smiled a deathly smile.
"The time is here. Fox will be MINE!"

Wolf and his army sped into the dark reaches of space. They were flying to Sector X, which, thanks to that moronic fox, had been purified of it's acidic qualities. Finally, they arrived.

Wolf stood on top of his ship, and yelled to his pack.
"Fox lies in that base, that sorry excuse for a hideout! Today! We will crush him, destroy him, and make sure he NEVER flies again. DEATH BE UPON ALL WHO OPPOSE US!! WOLVES, LET US FLY INTO THE DEEP, AND COME OUT WITH THE FOX HELD HIGH! OUR MOMENT HAS COME!! GO! FLY! WE SHALL TAKE HIM BY FORCE, AND HE WILL NOT RETURN HERE EVER, EVER AGAIN!" Wolf screamed at the top of his lungs, and let out a blood thirsty howl. His army. His plan. Foxe's death. This was perfect.

Wolf led the assault. Crimson red ships flew every direction. They poured into Foxe's base, firing plasma, lasers, bombs, and all manner of weaponry inside. Explosions rattled the very air, and the shock of the blasts reverberated throughout the base.

Little did his band of fighters know that, in exactly 5 seconds, Wolf would tear the base apart with one, single bomb. Wolf said to himself, "Sacrifice Is necessary, and began the count down.

5.
"Get ready everyone! Fox will be here soon!"
4.
Wolf's claws reached closer and closer to the fatal trigger.
3.
Foxe's base was torn apart. In the center of it all stood one blue, hopeful ship.
2.
The blue fighter ignited. It's engines screamed, roared, they were begging to fly.
1.
"MHWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! FOX, YOUR TIME IS UP! SAY GOODBYE, STAR FOX!"
Wolf rammed his claw onto the trigger; The bomb dropped. His Army was decimated in one single blow. He was all that remained. Or so he thought.

That one jet, that single, recurring nightmare in Wolf's life, was flying high. Unscathed by the bomb, it's pilot whispered into his intercom. Wolf only heard one thing: "Wolf, you'll never catch me."

A ray of plasma slammed into Wolf's hull. The smell of burning iron filled his nose, and the sound of a fierce laughter emitted from his intercom. How could this be? Everything was perfect. He had his Army. He had a plan. He had EVERYTHING. And it was all ruined by one single fox.

Nothing, not even Wolf's Army, could stop one single Fox.
As Wolf plummeted toward the ground, the very little which existed in Sector X, only one thing was in his mind.

He would be back. And he would win.

At 12/29/08 02:53 PM, GOTHCLAWZ wrote: Hey, these are pretty good. Keep it up & you might just sell something!

Thanks =D They destroy every law we know about the English language, though. Spacing
is fun to break into little pieces, especially. Here's another =D This one smashes spacing, grammar and capitilization. I have a tendency to neglect naming my characters sometimes... I actually have 10 of these backstories, 1 that is about to be finished, and the first chapter of a non-short story. It even has a plot! ;) Every single one of them (except for the one that isn't finished) is on my profile page. Drop on by and leave a comment =D Or comment here =D I don't really mind, as long as you comment. Now.

Song Title: Moments of Inspiration by KTRECORDS.
Song Link: Moments of Inspiration

A brave Warrior stood against a group of 4 Goblins. Surrounded by a rocky crevice, there was no running away. This fight was to the death.

The Warrior was in a terrible situation. He was cornered by this putrid band of thieves, his back to sharp, piercing rocks and the thieves' backs were to an open space. He had to think of something, and he had to think of something quickly.

He had two things; His sharpened sword, "Phoenix", and his will to fight. The goblins were inching ever closer to him, knives and daggers pointed at our brave fighter's throat. The Warrior analyzed his opponents. Goblins, probably unintelligent, and obviously had a love for gold. Broken swords were laid across their backs. Apparently, gold wasn't all they loved. Smashing was a favorite pastime too.

"Give us gold and weapon NOW!!" shrieked the lead goblin. A headdress made of damaged daggers, smashed pendants, and crushed helmets adorned his head. His knife was the longest of all, and was gold. Whether it was painted or not, one could not tell. Our Hero was unresponsive, still thinking of a way to get out of this alive.

"You no talk? Well, we take you down then!!" The goblins charged forward, daggers aimed to kill, they were almost there, only a few seconds until an untimely death befell our Warrior...

"WAIT!!!"" Finally the Fighter spoke. A flash of inspiration had come to him, and right when he needed it most. "Fine, you win, O Powerful and Terrible goblins. I shall give you my sword. Please, I beg of you, take good care of it. It is a prized treasure of mine." The Warrior threw his blade to the ground. It landed close to the lead goblin.

A mischievous grin spread wide across the face of the monsters. "We destroy sword now, fool. You never cross paths with goblins again. Wait, you die now, no worry about that." The group howled with laughter. A raised hand silenced the two henchmen. The lead goblin produced a battle hammer from his back. Not everything there was broken. "Say goodbye to precious treasure, Warrior!!!"

With a loud crash, the goblin's hammer devastated Phoenix. The sword lay on the ground, smashed in half. "Pick it up, Gan!" The lead yelled at one of his cohorts. Gan picked it up, and let out a terrible shriek, screaming "OWWWWWW!! OW OW OW!! THE SWORD BUURRRRNNNNSSS!!!!!" Phoenix was glowing a vengeful shade of red. It emitted a fiery glow, and it seemed to repel the goblins.

"You try to give me cursed sword?? FOOL!" The Leader dashed to the sword and snatched up the two halves. That was a mistake on his part. "HOOOOTTTTTTT!!! SWORD HURT BADDDDDD!!!!" Phoenix clattered to the ground, and fire poured out of each part. The flames reached each other and embraced. Slowly, in a miraculous feat of Magic, Phoenix was repaired. The goblins stood in awe. The two henchmen dashed away, leaving only their leader to face the Warrior.

"How you repair? Me smash, YOU NO REPAIR AFTER SMASH!!"

"I didn't repair Phoenix," said the warrior with a smug expression on his face, "It was reborn. Sadly, you don't have that power. This is for calling me an idiot!!" With a deft stroke the Warrior sliced of the goblin's headdress. "And this is for destroying Phoenix!" A fiery slash cut the goblin across the heart. It was almost over. "Why?" whined the goblin, coughing up blood as he spoke. "We just play joke on you! We not really kill you!"

"Those weapons say differently." was the Warrior's cold reply. Blood pouring from the goblin's heart formed a small puddle. With one final, vengeful, killing blow, Phoenix slashed its way through the center of the Leader's body. Just as Phoenix had been reduced to two halves, so had this cruel goblin. The Warrior walked away, carefully stepping over his defeated adversary. Dealing with goblins is tough, thought the Warrior.
Good thing, then, that inspiration only comes when you need it most.

So i have a couple of stories that are perfect for animeteing. I have been posting around the bbs and can't find anyone. Does anyone have any ideas on how to find or get an animator?

I would like to join. Consider me. I am not so good with stories, but i can give you semi-good stories from when I was 10-13.