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Doubble Dutch

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Joined: Mar 2004

Posts: 3,072

Doubble Dutch is doing well so far

Jun 8, 2006, 10:53 PM
Doubble Dutch is offline
The end

Well, I've decided to turn my wits [okay wit, okay, halfwit] to writing something. We are now taking bets as to how long my attention span will last before this withers n dies and -Oooh look! A butterfly!


Prolouge:

Marik put down the glass he was cleaning and looked up as the potential customers entered. They were new to the town, and Veldt didn't get many tourists, in fact, it had hardly any permanent residents. Nothing of any note had ever happened in Veldt in the entire history of Carrotus. Unfortunately that was about to change.

The girl who entered was tall, taller than anyone Maril had seen anyway, not that he'd had much expereince. She was also beautiful, no, scratch that, stunning. Every rabbit present had their gaze locked on her as she strode toward the bar; she was wearing shorts and a neat shirt that were arranged somehow as to give the impression she was barely wearing anything at all, she had long hair halfway down her back and she was red. Not just red, like many other rabbits in town, but blood red; her fur shone like a fresh cut, even her eyes gleamed like two bright rubies. Following close behind her was a short, unremarkable shellian. Both sat down at the bar and ordered a drink.

Despite himself Marik was insatiably curious, a character picked up from a lifetime of living somewhere everyone knew your name, family business and good deal of your personal life. He leaned over to the couple and enquired of their names and business in the sleepy community. The change in the rabbits demeanour was startling. For a second she gave the shelian a panicked, pleading look which he pretended he couldn't see, before finaly stammering "Uh, Red. Red err... Bloodrabbit. Yes, because of, of, the fur. Yes." The shelian nonchalantly stared at him over the bartop. "And you're looking at Sheldon Langsam. Me and my partner are here selling security devices, for personal and home protection." Mentally Marik snorted. Of course, expect a shelian to be big in defence, though lord knew what she was doing with him. A body like that already had two somewhat inerberated patrons arguing over who was going to buy her a drink.

Marik's thoughts were interrupted by Red staring with total focus and attention at a spot about three feet behind the back of his head, in the manner of a recovering alcoholic who has just seen a bottle of vodka in the gutter. He turned to see the object of her focus, which turned out to be the rather large and somewhat rusty sword resting above the bar behind him. It had been there ever since Marik could remember, possibly longer than the tavern itself and was coated with a thick layer of dust, grime and what you had to hope was rust. Only one thing bothered Marik about it, and that was the fact that he wasn't quite sure if it was there yesterday. "You like it huh?" He enquired. Red blinked before asking him in a voice that turned his insides to jelly if she could just look at it for a bit. Well, you couldn't refuse a request like that, and besides, the fight in the corner had become quite lively now, and the town hadn't seen any sort of punch up for over 15 years when there was a small dispute over the ownership of the town's first television set.

Red stood outside the tavern listening to the brawl now raging within. She smiled. She loved it when people fought over her, and they always did, sooner or later. She gave the sword an experimental wave, it cut through the air with a quiet humm and shed its small load of dust. Now it looked far more malevolent; a piece of crudely molded steel with one singular purpose in existance, and that was, if not to end a life, to make it a lot less pleasant for the liver. It wasn't shiny, sharp or showwy, it just sat firmly in Red's grip as if it were embedded in rock, glaring out at the world like a hole into a darker, much less plesant existance. Red grinned evilly. "About time! Lets do this!"


* On Shellian... *

Schrock stared at the two suitcases at his feet, they represented a depressingly small amount of luggage for someone planning on not only moving house, but moving planets as well. Nearby his mother fussed over Erst, as usual. And as usual Erst's biggest worry was his shell. Neither of them had wanted to go to carrotus, but as mother has said; 'there was so much oppourtunity there'; she'd meant well, as usual, but there were some things she just didn't get. Sighing he managed to pry Erst away from a tearful embrace and they made their way to the ticket office. They got the usual odd looks given to those who'd never met Erst before, but since nearly all the shellians heading to carrotus were doing so against their will and/or better judgement and were thus making some attempt at disguising themselves, Erst's unique look got surprisingly little attention.

As the ship lifted off carrying its cargo of mostly unwilling emmigrants Shrock sighed. If he knew just how bad things were going to get, he would've stayed hime, as it was he wasn't
to keen anyway...
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