Writing Explorations: Week 48, Feline Good

[The Mood is Write]

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Sorry to spook you guys with the scary exclamation point just to the left, but I have an announcement regarding the status of my upcoming exercise series!

The Planning Practice (working title) exercises will be geared towards 1x1 players, and it will be posted in RP Mechanics, and it will include exercises with creating plots, presenting ideas, dealing with OOC difficulties in the planning process, overcoming hurdles, and more. These exercise types will be rotated or random, and each will include tips based on my experiences.

EDIT: I forgot to say this earlier, but Planning Practice exercises are going to be held off until I have ideas set up for at least the first several months. They may be once every two weeks, or every week with a simplified version every other week to let my brain work out the deets for the more in-depth exercises. I've got a list of topics and subtopics to include. Get yourselves pumped!

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My Writing Explorations series of exercises are a chance for users to explore new concepts and practice the art of raising two fingers to Writer's Block while screaming obscenities to fickle muses: to rebel against the idea that a person requires a mythical force inside them to make new and amazing things.

No. Listen well, users: there is no being inside you waiting to be let out. You are the writer, and in this exercise, you are given a place to push not only against Writer's Block, but also against the forces of stagnation. Feel trapped in your genre? Explore a new one! Stuck with a singular archetype? Do something else! In this thread, you will not be critiqued, and I will read every entry and let you know what makes me happy about it. Should you wish it, I will happily offer my thoughts on how it might be improved, but I will not comb looking for fixes: this isn't the place: this place is for safely trying new things and indulging a love of writing.

Shake the bars of your cell block and roar, writers!

[fieldbox=How do I take part?]Curious about how this works? Good! Look over the offered themes and prompts and the bonus rounds, then think about them. Then, take your thoughts and get writing. You can write to one or more (or none) of the prompts, the theme in the thread title, the bonuses: hell, you can even cast aside all of what I offer if you get a different idea.

The whole point is "get writing!"[/fieldbox]

Themes:

1. An assassination is messed up. This is the story's turning point.
2. Hostages are taken, the good guys are controlled, how will they make it through?
3. The conflict that everyone thought was huge turns out to be a misunderstanding because someone's catty.

Bonus Rounds:

• Write in a random genre.
• Someone is called Kitti.
• Coriander is included.
• Utilize feline body language on a non-feline character.
• Ribbon as a weapon? Yes.
• Someone talks about food, but nobody knows what the heck they're saying.

 

[Elle Joyner]

It was May Day... But for Sir Merrick Lerroux, there would be little celebrating. He had a job to do. A job given to him by the most important person in all of the kingdom. A difficult and dangerous job, but one that he would not fail. Or at least, this had been how he had felt earlier that day, but something had gone wrong. Something had gone horribly wrong.

Coriander, it seemed, was not in fact a poison. Misled by an oaf of an apothecary, Merrick had slipped a handful of the hard, round seeds into the king's breakfast quiche, hoping for a swift and painless end to the tyrannical mad man... but in horror he witnessed the chef scooping up those same seeds and tossing them into a pot for stew later that evening. Realizing his error, he'd gone to the kitchen to correct it, this time with a bottle of strychnine pilfered from the physicians closet. However upon entering the kitchen, everything had rapidly fallen apart.

The chef, it seemed, was not keen on anyone adding things into his recipes... not even when that person was head of the Queen's private guard. The battle over the bottle had been, admittedly a bit childish, but it was after it had shattered on the floor, when Merrick had drawn his sword and threatened to quarter everyone in the kitchen with immediate execution that the situation escalated to a ridiculous point. Brandishing an enormous whisk, the Chef, in all his audacity and hardly pleased at being held hostage in his own domain, swung with aggressive force at Merrick, who could only counter with his blade and an expression of pure alarm. Back and forth, too many times not to make Merrick embarrassed at his own skills, they fought until finally, with a solid thwock and a metallic clatter, the whisk was swept away, flying across the kitchen tile.

It was not over, however. For an impressively fat man, the chef moved with the grace of a feline, languid and swift, and sweeping up one of the May Day ribbons laying on the table, he snapped it with vicious thrust at the aggravated knight, "Back! Back, I say! I'll have none of this in my kitchen!"

"Good sir!" Merrick shouted, raising his blade to protect his face from the whip-like ribbon, "I demand you--"

"Demand!? DEMAND!?" Chef roared, "Kitti! The baguette!"

As he called out to her, the young serving girl's eyes grew to saucers, and she looked hopelessly around the kitchen. "The what??"

"The baguette! Tom! Show her the baguette!"

The Page, also flummoxed stammered for a moment, his sallow skin paling, "S...sir?"

"The bread, stupid fools!" Chef shouted, pointing a fat finger at the counter. Looking to where he gestured, the serving girl at last grasped the stale, crusty loaf and tossed it. Just in time Merrick parried with his blade, stopping the loaf as it came swinging down over his head. Finally throwing the weapon aside, he leaped forward, colliding with the chef, his arm wrapping around the chef's neck with bruising force.

"I will..." The chef growled, smacking Merrick's shoulders and arms with the bread, "Have order... in my kitchen!!"

"What in Heavens name is going on in here!?" The door had swung open during the cacophony and in the frame of it, the queen stood. As she stepped into the kitchen, her expression bore a tempered level of shock, eyes wide, fixed on the two in their heated fray. Merrick paused, his arm still slung around the chef's throat, the latter sputtering, swearing in a raspy growl, the bread hovering halfway to Merrick's skull.

"My Queen!" Merrick cried, "I... The thing that we spoke about? I was trying to... Well. I had thought that... It seemed best if it was handled with discretion?"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"The... the king, My lady?"

The queen was quiet for a long moment, ruminating over his words, but as they finally seemed to settle in, her mouth rolled into a comical circle, and with a wave of her arms, she spoke abruptly,"Good Lord! No. No, no, no. I didn't..." A sigh escaped her lips and pinching the center of her forehead, her tone sank into quiet bemusement, "I didn't mean actually kill him. He's the king, after all. I just... Oh, this is ridiculous. Really, I appreciate your loyalty, Merrick, but my God. I was just having a bad morning. Everyone, please..." Clapping her hands, she looked to the terrified kitchen workers, "Back to work. Really, Merrick... Bit much."

As she turned to leave, Merrick's arm lowered from around the neck of the bulbous chef and stepping back, he cleared his throat, smoothed the front of his tunic and straightened his sword belt, "...Right. We... It... Hm. It's probably best if..."

"Already forgotten, Sire." The chef muttered, rubbing his windpipe, "Good day."

"Good day..." Merrick mumbled, collecting his sword before slipping out.

 

[The Mood is Write]

@Elle Joyner
Oh my lord! I laughed out loud! This is amazing! I love these characters, and I thiiiink you hit every point! Fantastic!

 

[Elle Joyner]

@Elle Joyner
Oh my lord! I laughed out loud! This is amazing! I love these characters, and I thiiiink you hit every point! Fantastic!

Thank you so much! And thanks for the prompt. It was so fun to write! :-)

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Maggie sat in the burned out basement of what once was a thriving night club called the "Cat's Paw" listening to the rain fall. It seemed like that's all it did in Maggie's life lately. She was snapping and almost hissing at everyone in the unit. It reached a breaking point when she was doing some hand to hand training and Maggie broke someone's nose, and she didn't stop punching them. Colonel Travis was wondering if the stress of being their one great hope was getting to her, and how much longer he should wait before turning her loose on the Illuminati? Travis ordered her to leave the base and see Jason for the night in the hopes of getting her back to some kind of stability. That hope faded quickly when Jason and Maggie got into an argument about the state of their relationship. Maggie was starting to question whether they had a chance at a relationship given the current situation with the war, and what things could be like once it was all over. Jason was the first sign of normalcy that she had known in months and was determined to hold onto it, but in recent weeks she had begun to question a lot of things in her life.

Maggie's mind began to wander about how this club looked back in its hey-day. What kind of people came here? Who was the owner? What kind of music did they play? Her mind began to paint a picture of her dressed in a black and white party dress slow dancing with Jason. The lights were low; she was enjoying playing with his hair, and just staring into his emerald eyes. Maggie smiled at this for a moment, and then remembered the fight they just had. She had fought for complete strangers and was eventually going to be the one to take out the Illuminati, so was she now thinking about quitting on something that made her feel alive like nothing else had in years?

Just then there was crashing sound near the top of the stairs. Maggie turned on her finger-tip flashlight and shined over to see the tail of a kitty cat scurrying away from her. Maggie said, "Aww, come here kitty. I won't hurt you." Maggie began to purse the cat up the stairs. Why she chasing a cat at this moment Maggie had no clue. Maybe, it was because it was something that she might be able to help? Or maybe that it wasn't asking her to do anything like break a board with her foot or if their relationship would survive peace as well as it survived war? Then there was a sight that made all of those thoughts disappear in a flash. The sight of a red targeting light on the wall that moved down and disappeared, but reappeared when Maggie turned around. It appeared right in the middle of her chest. Her first thought was, "How am I gonna explain this one to Travis?"

A voice from inside of a black helmet said, "You are out pass the curfew. Surrender now." Maggie noticed that the soldier was dressed all in black which made her heart sink a bit further. This was one of the Black Lions. They were the elite soldiers of the Illuminati. They were ruthless, they not arrested you but they weren't above taking liberties with you before taking you in, or stealing whatever possessions you had on you. In a bad time these soldiers were the worst. Taking your own life was preferable to dealing with them. Maggie noticed something in the soldier's voice through the electronic distorter. His voice was shaking, and even in the dark she could tell that the soldier was starting to wobble. Maggie quickly lifted her finger light and pointed it at the soldier's helmet. The soldier fell over in agony grabbing his helmet. Maggie knew that the helmet had night vision sensors and once she pointed the light at him it was all over.

Maggie ran over to the soldier and grabbed his gun. Maggie then noticed that the soldier was bleeding badly from his side. She started to leave, but then the soldier said, "Don't leave…me."

Maggie replied, "Why should I stay? You were just going to arrest or do who knows what else to me anyway."

The soldier held up a comm-link and said in a ragged voice, "One press of this button and I'll have a squadron down here...in a matter of minutes. Not only you but several others...would be rounded up and taken away so I suggest...you stay here."

Maggie raised the gun and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. The soldier chuckled and said, "Surprise…I'm out of ammo…I was going to bluff you into surrender."

Maggie thought about kicking the comm-link away, but something told her not to. The soldier coughed and said, "I'm dying…stay with me…please…I'm scared…"

Maggie set the gun aside and sat next to the solider. She asked, "What happened to you?"

The solider replied, "First, can you please take off my helmet? I don't want the last images I see to be through this helmet." Maggie removed his helmet and it revealed a teenager. At most he was maybe 17 with black hair and brown eyes and pale moist skin. He said, "Thank you. My name is Thomas."

Maggie said, "Maggie. My name is Maggie."

Thomas chuckled a bit and then began to cough. He said, "That's a nice name. I was part…of a training exercise…we were to observe a raid in the Northern sector…this evening, but we got ambushed by a resistance…cell while enroute. I was one of the lucky ones…who escaped. I know if I make it back to…my unit…they will kill me…and harvest my useful organs…" Thomas coughed again, but this time there was blood with it. Maggie knew he wouldn't be around much longer. He continued, "As I staggered away…I realized I wanted what…you all are fighting for…freedom…I wanted to die on my terms…I wanted to experience…life not as Black Lion…but as a free person…"

Maggie asked, "Why did you pull your gun? And why are you holding me hostage if you are so wild about freedom suddenly?"

Thomas replied as his breathing began to get shallow, "I wasn't sure…if you would…help me…I'm sorry Maggie."

Maggie felt a tear fall as she brushed back his hair and said, "It's all right Thomas." She smiled and said, "I'm here and I'll stay with you."

Maggie took his hand in hers. Thomas asked, "One…last request…Maggie?"

Maggie replied, "What's that?"

Thomas said, "Don't leave me…above ground. Please bury me…if they find me…they'll…"

Maggie interrupted, "I promise. I will make sure of it."

Thomas smiled and said, "Thank you…you are something…special…Maggie…thank you for…being…here…you're very pretty...could I have one kiss please..." Thomas kept smiling as his breathing slowed and Maggie leaned in and kissed him. She felt him take his last breath.

Maggie let go of Thomas's hand and said, "Goodbye." Maggie saw that there was a sizable hole nearby. She used his helmet and dug a little more. Maggie then grabbed a nearby cloth and wrapped his body in it. Maggie placed the body in the grave and used the helmet as shovel again and filled in the grave.

It took her all night to do it, but Maggie kept her word and made sure Thomas was buried. After she said a silent prayer Maggie saw the same cat walk out and lay on top of the grave. It meowed at her and Maggie smiled as she meowed to it as well.

Maggie then turned and made her way back to the base. On her way there she stopped off and talked to Jason. She told him that she was sorry, and Jason apologized as well. He did ask her why she was covered in dirt. Maggie replied, "Sometimes you have to get in a grave to appreciate life."

 

[The Mood is Write]

@MST3K 4ever
I'm really liking this! Great job, once again! I'm really curious about that cat. Seems too smart. ;D