Okay, a relatively quick chapter. At least, at the time that I'm writing this. I mean, it's quick for me... And I actually have some resemblence of a plot. Isn't that strange? Hm...
---
Sulu shook his head as they traveled through an amazingly dense forest. "I don't know, guys. I've got a bad feeling about this. I think we should have waited for the Author. Then at least we'd have something to combat this 'Black Author', or whatever, with."
"Ach, ladd, what are ye afraid of? There's no way that this Black Author is going to pull one o'er this Scot." Scotty looked at them. "And I doubt that 'e'll get one o'er ye. But..." He turned to look at the Redshirts. "I'm not so confident about them."
"Me, either." Chekov voiced.
"Who would be? I just brought them along because people outside of Starfleet don't know about them, and there's safety in numbers." Sulu reasoned.
"Not vhen ve're going against an Author."
"Aye. This Author character (A/N: Heh, oxymoron...) would most likely be able to cut through these Redshirts with a wave of 'is hand." Scotty reasoned.
"Actually..." a deep, cultured, and fairly - and amused voice crept in from above them. "I wouldn't have to even wave my hand. Just think on it a little. Like this..." There was a large flash, and all of the Redshirts spontaneously combusted, creating another flash of light. This one blinded the three Starfleet officers - Jones wasn't with them, luckily, for even a contract couldn't save him from the Black Author - and when the flash was gone, there was a large, opposing figure who bore a strong resemblence to me except in the fact that his skin was a darker shade - more tan - and that he was clothed entirely in black.
Sulu's eyes wided, Scotty's eyes hardened, and Chekov's eyes narrowed all at once.
The Black Author laughed. "Now, you are not so foolish as to fall for some of my more petty tricks. Maybe I should kill you in a way you would appreciate - a way that you could feel." He laughed his evil laugh again, which was actually more of a screeching giggle. Rather wimpish, really.
The three officers grimaced.
"What? You don't like my laugh?" The Black Author looked hurt. "What's wrong with it?"
Chekov looked at Scotty and Sulu, then at the Black Author. "You're going to kill us anyvay, right?"
"Uh... uh, yeah. Yeah, I am. Had to think a minute there, but yeah, yeah I am."
"Vell, then, it's a bit... feminine." Chekov said uneasily. "Please don't take this the wrong way."
The Black Author frowned. "Are you... do you... did he... he did... you dare... why did..." He cleared his throat. "Ah, that is to say, You, a mere character, DARE to insult the greatness, the plague, that is I?! The Black Author?! The Writers Block! The Ultimate Bane of Authors! You infidel!" He made a fist. "I will CRUSH you!"
Sulu frowned suddenly. "Uh, hate to interrupt you, but your shoe's untied."
"Aye, and ye seem to 'ave angered a great many Greek Gods and Goddesses." Scotty added.
The Ultimate Bane of Authors (Let's call him TUBA) looked down to discover that his shoe was, indeed, untied, and then looked up to see that the Ancient Greek Gods and Goddesses. Zeus smiled a cruel smile, waved, and hurled a lightning bolt, which was followed by a hail of arrows from Artemis, Demeter, Athena, and Apollo, and an already-bloody spear from Ares.
They all collided with TUBA and sent him flying through the woods, destroying trees as he went. But soon he was back, hurt but apparently ready for more. Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov had already fled, and as he noticed that and swore to himself, the ground shook vioilently, spilling him to the ground. Poseidon, in his ever-lasting bad mood, was having the first bit of fun in a while, and wasn't going to pass off with some minor earthquake. This was the mother of all Earthquake, and it would have lasted if TUBA hadn't conjured up a whack-bonk and taken care of the ancient God.
TUBA then conjured up a long-range whack-bonk, and nailed Artemis just as Zeus hurled another lightning bolt. Both of the attacks struck, sending the recievers to the ground, at the same time Heracles, God of Strength, jumped down to go mano y mano. He immediatly got into a fight with TUBA, but stayed facing his fellow Gods, so they could still hit TUBA.
The epic battle continued, while Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov continued to run off. Suddenly, they were picked up with a flash and carried at a rate beyond the speed of any known, one that seemed to be past warp 10. They looked around, and saw to their amazement that they were being carried by Hermes. As they saw him, they stopped, and were in front of me and the rest of the Starfleet crew.
I nodded my thanks to Hermes, and he ran off to help the Gods and Goddesses. I then looked at the three who had snuck off, angry. "What were you thinking?! Most characters are trying to run away from the layer of the Black Author, not towards it. You could have been wiped off the face of the existence!"
"Ve are not afraid of dying to save a friend." Chekov said in their defense.
"Did I say die? No, I said wiped off the face of existence. You would never of existed. You could have changed history!" I snapped.
"How?"
"If you never existed, how could you do the things you've done? Some of it may of still been done, but not by you, and therefore your dimensions history would be different. Most likely, all the people here would be dead 5 times over if you had never existed. Yes, this is an ego boost for all of you, but I'm willing to risk it if it makes you be careful when the Black Author is around." I looked at them each in turn. "Got that?"
They all nodded.
"There is one thing I'd like to ask you about, if it's okay." Sulu announced.
"Fire away."
He looked confused at my phrase, then nodded. "Right. Anyway, where did all those Greek Gods and Goddesses come from? And why are they all fighting for you?"
"Oh, them? I needed something fast, and the last thing I studied in school today was ancient Greek mythology. They're powerful enough to stall him, but they are just characters in a story, so he has power over them. I believe that we'll never see any of those Greek Gods and Goddesses again."
"Won't that affect the history where they're from?" Sulu asked.
"It did, but I took them from a universe I had created a while ago for an original story, but the story didn't really work out. The place is in shambles now, without something to explain the unexplainable. Greece never existed, and Eastern world wiped most of itself out in petty wars, and then died completely to the Black Death. So there's another ego boost for you: I condemned trillions of people to death to save you. Show some gratitude, will ya?"
The three nodded, and mumbled some thanks. Then Sulu spoke again.
"Author..."
"What is it now?" I asked, in a slightly sour mood, since mythology wasn't all that bad in Reading class, even though the Greek Gods and Goddesses deleted weren't from my dimension.
"Why didn't you just take on the Black Author, and just end it there? Would that be easier?"
I shrugged. "Yeah, it would be easier - if I could. But he's too powerful for any one Author alone, even one who's been published, or even the late great J.R.R. Tolkien. I know some people who believe that Tolkien died in a fight with TUBA, in fact. But me? No, I'd lose to TUBA. If all of us here on FF.Net combined together and joined our strength, we might stand a chance. But only a chance, and a small one at that. I may, however, be able to fight him to a standstill, or even throw him out of this story temporarily."
"So... vhy didn't you do that?" Chekov rejoinded the conversation.
"Because I'm not about to put MY neck on the line when the necks of a bunch of Greek Gods and Goddesses would serve the same purpose!" I said, thinking that this was obvious.
The Starfleeters all looked at me skeptically.
"What?!" Then it hit me. "Oh... yeah. The whole 'we're the good guys, we're selfless' thing. Well, I just don't go for that, okay? I mean, it's not logical. Why should I sacrifice myself for three idiots who are going off to try to rescue their friend from TUBA?"
"Idiots?" The three voiced at the same time.
"Yes, idiots. Because only an idiot would go try and gain entrance to TUBAs fortress!" I sighed, and began mumbling to myself about how with a wave of his hand, Tuba could anhilate them and their existence. Of course, I could do the same thing, but he also had powers over stories that weren't his own. He had actually only made a story to become what he is. In fact, nobody actually knew where he came from. The common belief was that he was a human who had learned how to traverse the dimensions and genre's to become an author over all, where ever he chose. Of course, it was highly doubtfull that he chose the name TUBA, so he obviously wasn't all-powerful.
Yet there had been another theory that had cropped up recently, though most people believe it complete folly. Some believe that The Black Author was actually a muse, banished from the heavens for his decietfullness, corruptness, and his attempts to ruin the stories of other muses. But that was stupid, even stupider then what Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov had tried - because everyone knows that muses don't exist, and that the voices in our heads that tell us what to do are just elements of the insanity.
But... as I had traveled with these people, I had had images of beings who gave me endless ideas for stories, of beings who didn't exist... but I had seen them clearly. Images of muses...
Shaking my head violently to clear it, I called out for them to pack up so we could keep moving. I had formulated a plan where we might be able to get Spock out of there alive, but I would need help...
I pulled out a palm pilot and connected to the Internet, bringing up AIM, Yahoo Messenger, and MSN Messenger. I had some people to contact.
--
Okay, pretty good chapter, right? Not much Kirk, but that's okay. While I was writing this, I struck upon an idea that I'm going to be testing out. I'm not letting you all in on the details yet, but I believe that you'll like it.
So, here's how it goes down: You review, I make another chapter, and repeat for a little bit. Sounds good to me.
---
Sulu shook his head as they traveled through an amazingly dense forest. "I don't know, guys. I've got a bad feeling about this. I think we should have waited for the Author. Then at least we'd have something to combat this 'Black Author', or whatever, with."
"Ach, ladd, what are ye afraid of? There's no way that this Black Author is going to pull one o'er this Scot." Scotty looked at them. "And I doubt that 'e'll get one o'er ye. But..." He turned to look at the Redshirts. "I'm not so confident about them."
"Me, either." Chekov voiced.
"Who would be? I just brought them along because people outside of Starfleet don't know about them, and there's safety in numbers." Sulu reasoned.
"Not vhen ve're going against an Author."
"Aye. This Author character (A/N: Heh, oxymoron...) would most likely be able to cut through these Redshirts with a wave of 'is hand." Scotty reasoned.
"Actually..." a deep, cultured, and fairly - and amused voice crept in from above them. "I wouldn't have to even wave my hand. Just think on it a little. Like this..." There was a large flash, and all of the Redshirts spontaneously combusted, creating another flash of light. This one blinded the three Starfleet officers - Jones wasn't with them, luckily, for even a contract couldn't save him from the Black Author - and when the flash was gone, there was a large, opposing figure who bore a strong resemblence to me except in the fact that his skin was a darker shade - more tan - and that he was clothed entirely in black.
Sulu's eyes wided, Scotty's eyes hardened, and Chekov's eyes narrowed all at once.
The Black Author laughed. "Now, you are not so foolish as to fall for some of my more petty tricks. Maybe I should kill you in a way you would appreciate - a way that you could feel." He laughed his evil laugh again, which was actually more of a screeching giggle. Rather wimpish, really.
The three officers grimaced.
"What? You don't like my laugh?" The Black Author looked hurt. "What's wrong with it?"
Chekov looked at Scotty and Sulu, then at the Black Author. "You're going to kill us anyvay, right?"
"Uh... uh, yeah. Yeah, I am. Had to think a minute there, but yeah, yeah I am."
"Vell, then, it's a bit... feminine." Chekov said uneasily. "Please don't take this the wrong way."
The Black Author frowned. "Are you... do you... did he... he did... you dare... why did..." He cleared his throat. "Ah, that is to say, You, a mere character, DARE to insult the greatness, the plague, that is I?! The Black Author?! The Writers Block! The Ultimate Bane of Authors! You infidel!" He made a fist. "I will CRUSH you!"
Sulu frowned suddenly. "Uh, hate to interrupt you, but your shoe's untied."
"Aye, and ye seem to 'ave angered a great many Greek Gods and Goddesses." Scotty added.
The Ultimate Bane of Authors (Let's call him TUBA) looked down to discover that his shoe was, indeed, untied, and then looked up to see that the Ancient Greek Gods and Goddesses. Zeus smiled a cruel smile, waved, and hurled a lightning bolt, which was followed by a hail of arrows from Artemis, Demeter, Athena, and Apollo, and an already-bloody spear from Ares.
They all collided with TUBA and sent him flying through the woods, destroying trees as he went. But soon he was back, hurt but apparently ready for more. Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov had already fled, and as he noticed that and swore to himself, the ground shook vioilently, spilling him to the ground. Poseidon, in his ever-lasting bad mood, was having the first bit of fun in a while, and wasn't going to pass off with some minor earthquake. This was the mother of all Earthquake, and it would have lasted if TUBA hadn't conjured up a whack-bonk and taken care of the ancient God.
TUBA then conjured up a long-range whack-bonk, and nailed Artemis just as Zeus hurled another lightning bolt. Both of the attacks struck, sending the recievers to the ground, at the same time Heracles, God of Strength, jumped down to go mano y mano. He immediatly got into a fight with TUBA, but stayed facing his fellow Gods, so they could still hit TUBA.
The epic battle continued, while Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov continued to run off. Suddenly, they were picked up with a flash and carried at a rate beyond the speed of any known, one that seemed to be past warp 10. They looked around, and saw to their amazement that they were being carried by Hermes. As they saw him, they stopped, and were in front of me and the rest of the Starfleet crew.
I nodded my thanks to Hermes, and he ran off to help the Gods and Goddesses. I then looked at the three who had snuck off, angry. "What were you thinking?! Most characters are trying to run away from the layer of the Black Author, not towards it. You could have been wiped off the face of the existence!"
"Ve are not afraid of dying to save a friend." Chekov said in their defense.
"Did I say die? No, I said wiped off the face of existence. You would never of existed. You could have changed history!" I snapped.
"How?"
"If you never existed, how could you do the things you've done? Some of it may of still been done, but not by you, and therefore your dimensions history would be different. Most likely, all the people here would be dead 5 times over if you had never existed. Yes, this is an ego boost for all of you, but I'm willing to risk it if it makes you be careful when the Black Author is around." I looked at them each in turn. "Got that?"
They all nodded.
"There is one thing I'd like to ask you about, if it's okay." Sulu announced.
"Fire away."
He looked confused at my phrase, then nodded. "Right. Anyway, where did all those Greek Gods and Goddesses come from? And why are they all fighting for you?"
"Oh, them? I needed something fast, and the last thing I studied in school today was ancient Greek mythology. They're powerful enough to stall him, but they are just characters in a story, so he has power over them. I believe that we'll never see any of those Greek Gods and Goddesses again."
"Won't that affect the history where they're from?" Sulu asked.
"It did, but I took them from a universe I had created a while ago for an original story, but the story didn't really work out. The place is in shambles now, without something to explain the unexplainable. Greece never existed, and Eastern world wiped most of itself out in petty wars, and then died completely to the Black Death. So there's another ego boost for you: I condemned trillions of people to death to save you. Show some gratitude, will ya?"
The three nodded, and mumbled some thanks. Then Sulu spoke again.
"Author..."
"What is it now?" I asked, in a slightly sour mood, since mythology wasn't all that bad in Reading class, even though the Greek Gods and Goddesses deleted weren't from my dimension.
"Why didn't you just take on the Black Author, and just end it there? Would that be easier?"
I shrugged. "Yeah, it would be easier - if I could. But he's too powerful for any one Author alone, even one who's been published, or even the late great J.R.R. Tolkien. I know some people who believe that Tolkien died in a fight with TUBA, in fact. But me? No, I'd lose to TUBA. If all of us here on FF.Net combined together and joined our strength, we might stand a chance. But only a chance, and a small one at that. I may, however, be able to fight him to a standstill, or even throw him out of this story temporarily."
"So... vhy didn't you do that?" Chekov rejoinded the conversation.
"Because I'm not about to put MY neck on the line when the necks of a bunch of Greek Gods and Goddesses would serve the same purpose!" I said, thinking that this was obvious.
The Starfleeters all looked at me skeptically.
"What?!" Then it hit me. "Oh... yeah. The whole 'we're the good guys, we're selfless' thing. Well, I just don't go for that, okay? I mean, it's not logical. Why should I sacrifice myself for three idiots who are going off to try to rescue their friend from TUBA?"
"Idiots?" The three voiced at the same time.
"Yes, idiots. Because only an idiot would go try and gain entrance to TUBAs fortress!" I sighed, and began mumbling to myself about how with a wave of his hand, Tuba could anhilate them and their existence. Of course, I could do the same thing, but he also had powers over stories that weren't his own. He had actually only made a story to become what he is. In fact, nobody actually knew where he came from. The common belief was that he was a human who had learned how to traverse the dimensions and genre's to become an author over all, where ever he chose. Of course, it was highly doubtfull that he chose the name TUBA, so he obviously wasn't all-powerful.
Yet there had been another theory that had cropped up recently, though most people believe it complete folly. Some believe that The Black Author was actually a muse, banished from the heavens for his decietfullness, corruptness, and his attempts to ruin the stories of other muses. But that was stupid, even stupider then what Scotty, Sulu, and Chekov had tried - because everyone knows that muses don't exist, and that the voices in our heads that tell us what to do are just elements of the insanity.
But... as I had traveled with these people, I had had images of beings who gave me endless ideas for stories, of beings who didn't exist... but I had seen them clearly. Images of muses...
Shaking my head violently to clear it, I called out for them to pack up so we could keep moving. I had formulated a plan where we might be able to get Spock out of there alive, but I would need help...
I pulled out a palm pilot and connected to the Internet, bringing up AIM, Yahoo Messenger, and MSN Messenger. I had some people to contact.
--
Okay, pretty good chapter, right? Not much Kirk, but that's okay. While I was writing this, I struck upon an idea that I'm going to be testing out. I'm not letting you all in on the details yet, but I believe that you'll like it.
So, here's how it goes down: You review, I make another chapter, and repeat for a little bit. Sounds good to me.