| We Don't Die - Episode 1 | |
|---|---|
| Tweet Topic Started: Sep 13 2009, 08:51 PM (33 Views) | |
| Wary | Sep 13 2009, 08:51 PM Post #1 |
|
Let's be weird
![]()
|
It's been years since we came back here. But, they say he's timeless. So as I walked back into my old, burnt-down house, I wouldn't have been too surprised if he was here. Not that I really wanted to go back in there. I know I didn't leave anything important in there or anything. Other than, ya know, my family's dead bodies... but that's not exactly my fault. Speaking of which, as I passed into the half-repaired village, I heard something that made my spine tingle. Guitar music. I trudged slowly towards the source of the sound. I dreaded meeting this guy. Considering what he was responsible for, I was expecting someone really scary-looking. I waved off a guy that was passing by me, doing something or other... "Dumb hippies--" Wait. I whirled around to see no sign of him. Of course, I still heard him. And I recognized the effect the music was having on me, draining my strength. I gritted my teeth and determined to end this quickly. "Come out, come out, wherever you are... ain't that a dumb ol'--" A squealing, harsh note interrupted me as the figure dashed at me. I could see his guitar was slowing him down. Amateur, always choose your weapons light. In the split second as he arrived I whipped out my blade, cutting through the guitar's body. He passed right by me, turned around and grinned. "I love the tone of a trashed axe, man." "Ever try a bow?" I countered, referring to an essential violin-playing tool. "Or a... flute... oh, who cares, my sword's better than anything you've got!" "Prove it, dude!" He flipped the thing around, gripping it by the neck and kicking the body aside. It quickly became obvious that he had some of his own tricks, like making the strings come alive like so many evil vine tentacle things. All six lunged in a pattern around me as I cut them off, but the last one gripped my sword arm and dug in, razor-sharp. My free claw shredded the wire in front of me. They were all retreating and I leapt to follow them, landing on the upright neck of the guitar. He looked at me, wide-eyed. He wasn't expecting me to show up so fast. The yellow fist tripled in size and smashed into me as I rolled backward. Instantly there was some distance between us. He tried to play another song, only to find all of his tuning knobs gone. "What?" he said, staring at the useless strings. Then he looked on the ground and saw what I'd cut off while I was there. "Bolts, too, motherfugga." As I said that, I turned around and walked away. Because I, Tig I, the beginning of the ones you've probably heard of, am awesome enough to make an 8-Bit Theatre reference in a fight. |
![]() |
|
| 1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous) | |
| « Previous Topic · Wary's Stories · Next Topic » |





9:13 AM Jul 11