Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne
I don't want to start! Starting isn't good for me! And neither is ending....Hows bout I come in the later-starting era? Actually, I probably won't even start till tomorrow. Good luck to the 1st! And everyone else!
anywhere you want, but i recommend meating up with someone soon, like me, since im available, then we can get the others in as needed.
Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne
Where are you starting? And yes, erm, gsp, I would be honored if you were to start, even if I didn't start the story. I figure I'll be starting...in a place. Like... a place.
I pulled on the chain with the other slaves as hard as I possibly could, well aware of the slave master's eyes on me. They could have used a machine to lift this thing, but they used every oppourtunity to injure or kill the slaves. A huge rock hovered about ten feet above the ground. My arms burned and were shaking like leaves, but I refused to let go of the chain. The rock rose another foot or so.
Then I stepped on a loose stone lying on the ground. My foot shot out from under me and I fell backwards, landing on the ground hard. If I could have I would have groaned. I winced as I heard the rock crash to the ground and crack in half. the slave master came up to me, grinning wickedly. "Another job undone on your watch. It doesn't look good for you girl." He kicked me. "Get up." I climbed to my feet. Now was my chance. He reached out to grab my arm, but I darted under his hand and took off running across the compound.
I was headed for the exit. I knew it would be risky, but if I didn't get out soon I would die. Other slave masters saw that I was escaping and abandoned their work, chasing after me. I saw a shock weapon in one of their hands. Those things could kill if they were set on a high enough setting.
There was the exit. A large metal door, about ten feet tall. I wasn't sure if it was fate or sheer luck that caused the door to open at that moment, but it did open. Must be a shortage in the system. I raced out into a square. People were milling about. All of them froze when I barrelled out of the doorway. Then the slave masters caught up with me.
One grabbed each of my shoulders. I struggled uselessly. I saw a man staring at me in shock. I looked him in the eyes deprately. I sent a tendril of thought towards him. "Help me."
His eyes grew large. More men grabbed my legs. I struggled more, but it wasn't any use. "Help me, please!"
Just another quack spoutingpsychobabble.
"If I win, I'm a prodigy. If I lose, then I'm mad. That's the way history is written."
I was staring at my feet, watching my dirty toes scrabble through the dirt every time I took a step. I sighed and looked up, wishing my hunger away. No, I told myself, focus. I inhaled deeply through my nose and was just about to try to make my finger ignite when I heard a commotion. I ran a hand quickly through my greasy hair, trying not to notice how a clean, fresh river was only two miles away, and that it would only take maybe half an hour to walk there and rinse off if I did a quick little spell. I tugged at a few strands before taking another deep breath and trying for a spark once more. The noise was still there, poking my eardrums with it's obnoxious little fingers. I gave up on my finger and started walking towards the noise.
I looked around desprately, trying to find someone, anyone, who would help. I was greeted by blank expressions. One of the slave masters punched me in the gut. Tears ran down my face. No... I can't go back this easily! I thought. I wanted to scream, but it was impossible for me.
Just another quack spoutingpsychobabble.
"If I win, I'm a prodigy. If I lose, then I'm mad. That's the way history is written."
I watched the fight break out, and my conscience warred with my logic. Help the slave, or get out, and not be running for the next month. I cursed and started pushing my way through the crowd. A warden came up to me and blocked my way.
"I'm sorry, but I cant allow you pat this point."
A small grin born of madness crept on to my face, "You really don't have a say though do you?"
A flick of my wrist activated the blade hidden against my forearm, and in less than a second the warden was dead. I stepped over his body and confronted two more. they spread out and attacked from opposite ends; but they were slow and they died like the first.
I let the body of the third guard drop and turned to the one holding the little slave girl.
His face was as white as mine, and his lips failed to form the words properly, "Stay back, or I'll shoot!" The hand holding the crossbow shook violently.
I raised my hands to my shoulders and stepped forward, "now, now..."
"Get back! Im warning you!" He shook the crossbow in my direction, his voice still full of fear. I bathed in it, relished in it. It was something no one could take away from me. The amount of terror a 'slave' could cause someone in power. They did not have power. They had nothing.
I jumped at the man, one hand pushing the crossbow out wide, and the other slamming into his face. He staggered back through the gate, blood flowing from a broken nose.
The girl was sitting on the ground, a frightened look on her face.
"Come on, we have to go."
*Is that ok?*
Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne
"Come on, we have to go." I nodded and climbed to my feet. The man grabbed my wrist and ran out of the crowd, dragging me behind him. I tried to speak, I really did, but no sound passed my lips. The people around seemed to be in a state of shock. He dragged me into an alleyway.
The alarm had been completely raised in the slave camp, and I saw several slave masters roaming the street. I was shaking so hard that the man put a hand over my mouth in case I screamed.
Like that's neccesary. I thought bitterly. My heart rate began to slow. Eventually I calmed down. Well, I'm out, but what is he planning on doing with me?
Just another quack spoutingpsychobabble.
"If I win, I'm a prodigy. If I lose, then I'm mad. That's the way history is written."
We raced through the streets, her barely keeping up. She's so weak! She needs proper food, she's almost as slow as a human!
We finally reached the outer edge of the encampment and stopped. I dragged her into an alley and let her rest against a wall. We waited in silence for a while, but when I saw she wasn't going to say anything I spoke up.
"What's your name?"
She just looked at me, a blank expression on her face.
"I know its not the best question to ask in this situation, but it might help, especially if we have to lie to get out of here."
She shook her head, but still said nothing. Underneath her shirt there was a collar. I touched it lightly with my fingers and recoiled. Magic. I grimaced as I reached for it one more time but she pulled away, fear blanketed on her face.
I tried to look gently, "Trust me. I'm going to get it off."
Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne
"Trust me. I'm going to get it off." I examined him for a moment. He looked trustworthy. But then again, don't judge a book by it's cover. I thought. He seemed to be waiting for me to say something. How I wished I could speak! I hesitated for a second. Then I used my hands to shape words.
"I am Jessi." If he didn't understand this, I'd have to try something else.
Just another quack spoutingpsychobabble.
"If I win, I'm a prodigy. If I lose, then I'm mad. That's the way history is written."
Her hands rose in front of her and flashed in a sequence. Sign language. Too bad I had no idea what she was saying.
"Are you mute?"
She nodded.
"Is sign language you're only form of communication?"
Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne
