04-20-2011, 10:03 PM
(( Hokay. So I know I haven't updated Rof's story at all. I will, sometime this decade. My mood has been blargh. Stuff sucks. Its led me to write other stuff, Rofu-centered. I have a lot of little stories that aren't related to Rofu's prestige. Just stuff dealing with his past and little side-stories I wanna explore. I'm gonna use this thread to post such stories. Expect 'em to be during different parts of Rofu's past, centered around different themes and stuff. And expect it to be random nonsense. Hokay? Hokay! ))
Rofupi Extra Story!
Blurs Of An Old Life
Chapter 1: Leap.
Scratching whispers, blurred out light, sloppy torrents whipping across ashen skin. Torrential sounds, static sound pitch, a broken stone road that caused a trip in every step. His heart pounded out of control as waves of roared through his veins. The feeling of a putrid sickness brewed in the deepest back of his cotton throat. Burning burps. Stringent hiccups. A waft of citrus scented acid trying to bubble out of it's cauldron. Cold. Cold everywhere, that crystallized over the body for a short second before shattering into painful pin-like stabs within each muscle. He felt it on his dried out skin, on his dripping wet hair, in the very depths of his marrow. Nothing. It was a terrible nothing that shackled his entire being.
What was this? Where did it start? Where will it end? Can it end where am I whats happening what am I feeling where am I going who am I what am I doing wheredoesthisleadwhycan'tIseeorhearorfeelorthinkor....
Nothing.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!â€Â
The high pitched screaming echoes out into nowhere.
Somewhere, he catches a bleary bolt of lightening. The screen fades back into focus for just a single moment. Night. Thunder. Torrential rain whipping against everything. Broken bottles, shattered stone roads, tattered posters of criminals dotting the moldy alleyways. 'Three Thumbs' 'Ghost Eye' 'Nightmare of th-' none of 'em really mattered. They were all markings of Old Town. He was stumbling somewhere in Old Town.
Running. Stumbling. Cracked hands constantly reaching out for something that couldn't be grabbed. Suddenly, he falls over, and the acid cauldron spills out of his body in a green, yellowish goop. Hrrrrruunnkglk. The squeeze on his skull tightens harder as the world blurs out of focus again. Wobbling vision. A pounding deep within his chest.
Ashen skin. Stone bones. Ice blood. Solid chunks of stink clogging his nostrils and souring his throat. And somewhere behind a static waterfall, the sounds of a stampede touched upon the pieces of his shattered ear drums. Iron boots clanging in the unison of formation. Orders being shouted in a heavily distorted language. Steel being drawn. Shields being raised. Multiple flashes of white, blue, and some sort of yellowish animal morphed into a fortress up ahead of him. More alien orders. Screaming.
What is that?
Fear. He knew this. His body reacted automatically. Heavy breaths. Tightened fists. Steady legs. Adrenaline slowly pumping out the poison surging through his veins. Everything snapped into focus. Crystal clarity. A wall. A fortress. A brewing storm of sword, shield, and armor. All built specifically to stop him.
Fine.
This is fine.
I can accept this.
His amethyst eyes flared wide open. The chunks of vomit plopped out of his nostrils with a heavy breath. He ran, fists at the ready, rotten teeth grinding together. His scream echoed out like the thunder of the storm pelting down the city. The wall straightened ahead of him; swords raised to kill. He jumped straight into it.
On a stormy Old Town night, a gnome named Rofupi leapt into a darkness he hoped never to return from.
Rofupi Extra Story!
Blurs Of An Old Life
Chapter 1: Leap.
Scratching whispers, blurred out light, sloppy torrents whipping across ashen skin. Torrential sounds, static sound pitch, a broken stone road that caused a trip in every step. His heart pounded out of control as waves of roared through his veins. The feeling of a putrid sickness brewed in the deepest back of his cotton throat. Burning burps. Stringent hiccups. A waft of citrus scented acid trying to bubble out of it's cauldron. Cold. Cold everywhere, that crystallized over the body for a short second before shattering into painful pin-like stabs within each muscle. He felt it on his dried out skin, on his dripping wet hair, in the very depths of his marrow. Nothing. It was a terrible nothing that shackled his entire being.
What was this? Where did it start? Where will it end? Can it end where am I whats happening what am I feeling where am I going who am I what am I doing wheredoesthisleadwhycan'tIseeorhearorfeelorthinkor....
Nothing.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!â€Â
The high pitched screaming echoes out into nowhere.
Somewhere, he catches a bleary bolt of lightening. The screen fades back into focus for just a single moment. Night. Thunder. Torrential rain whipping against everything. Broken bottles, shattered stone roads, tattered posters of criminals dotting the moldy alleyways. 'Three Thumbs' 'Ghost Eye' 'Nightmare of th-' none of 'em really mattered. They were all markings of Old Town. He was stumbling somewhere in Old Town.
Running. Stumbling. Cracked hands constantly reaching out for something that couldn't be grabbed. Suddenly, he falls over, and the acid cauldron spills out of his body in a green, yellowish goop. Hrrrrruunnkglk. The squeeze on his skull tightens harder as the world blurs out of focus again. Wobbling vision. A pounding deep within his chest.
Ashen skin. Stone bones. Ice blood. Solid chunks of stink clogging his nostrils and souring his throat. And somewhere behind a static waterfall, the sounds of a stampede touched upon the pieces of his shattered ear drums. Iron boots clanging in the unison of formation. Orders being shouted in a heavily distorted language. Steel being drawn. Shields being raised. Multiple flashes of white, blue, and some sort of yellowish animal morphed into a fortress up ahead of him. More alien orders. Screaming.
What is that?
Fear. He knew this. His body reacted automatically. Heavy breaths. Tightened fists. Steady legs. Adrenaline slowly pumping out the poison surging through his veins. Everything snapped into focus. Crystal clarity. A wall. A fortress. A brewing storm of sword, shield, and armor. All built specifically to stop him.
Fine.
This is fine.
I can accept this.
His amethyst eyes flared wide open. The chunks of vomit plopped out of his nostrils with a heavy breath. He ran, fists at the ready, rotten teeth grinding together. His scream echoed out like the thunder of the storm pelting down the city. The wall straightened ahead of him; swords raised to kill. He jumped straight into it.
On a stormy Old Town night, a gnome named Rofupi leapt into a darkness he hoped never to return from.