ArtemisX
Pokemon Noob
Warning: Maiming. Death.
A few years ago, I entered a story into an art contest. I didn't expect much. Worked on it a couple hours, maybe three, and was done. This is the result:
-----
"Checkmate"
Huddled over the table, Drass stared at the battlefield. He knew his next move could be deadly. He reached across the table, but moved his hand back. Time was starting to run out, but he payed no attention. His mind was working quickly, analyzing the options.
Raan, across the table, watched him with sharp eyes. He sensed Drass' indecision. His eyes followed Drass' hand as it reached across the table a second time. It touched a wooden shape, sliding it an inch along the table toward Raan's side.
Raan's hand immediately moved to another wooden shape of a different hue. He slid it diagonally across the table, knocking Drass' piece off its resting place. As the pieces connected, Drass' piece flew off the table and exploded mere centimeters in front of its owner's face, driving shrapnel into his flesh. Drass barely managed to close his eyes in time to avoid getting splinters in them.
After the smoke cleared, Drass hovered his hand over the table, trying to see where to move his next piece. His hand twitched over a shape for a second before flying to grab another piece and knocked Raan's piece out of place.
Raan's piece proceeded to do the same as Drass' piece did, flying towards his face and exploded, sending shrapnel in all directions. He managed to close his right eye in time, but his left eye was mangled by splinters of wood. He cried out in pain, but a woman standing beside the table slapped him with the butt of a pistol she had in her hand. He cringed in pain, covering his left eye. His right hand moved to a piece of his color. Half a centimeter away, it paused, travelled to another piece, and moved it about three inches to the left side of the table.
Drass watched this, and his hand twitched in anticipation. As soon as Raan's hand left the newly-moved piece, his hand flew to one of his own pieces, moved it from its present location to a spot almost all the way across the table. This caused one of Raan's pieces to burst into flames, reducing it and the pieces around it into ashes.
The woman standing next to the table said one word: "Checkmate," before raising the pistol to Raan's head and pulling the trigger.
Two men standing within twenty feet of the table walked forward, collected Raan's body, and carried it off to dispose of. Drass went to stand up, but another man sat him back down. He motioned for another, scared-looking young man to sit down across the table. The woman cleaned up what was left of the pieces on the table, and set new ones up, giving each player a different hue of wood.
"Begin," she said.
A few years ago, I entered a story into an art contest. I didn't expect much. Worked on it a couple hours, maybe three, and was done. This is the result:
-----
"Checkmate"
Huddled over the table, Drass stared at the battlefield. He knew his next move could be deadly. He reached across the table, but moved his hand back. Time was starting to run out, but he payed no attention. His mind was working quickly, analyzing the options.
Raan, across the table, watched him with sharp eyes. He sensed Drass' indecision. His eyes followed Drass' hand as it reached across the table a second time. It touched a wooden shape, sliding it an inch along the table toward Raan's side.
Raan's hand immediately moved to another wooden shape of a different hue. He slid it diagonally across the table, knocking Drass' piece off its resting place. As the pieces connected, Drass' piece flew off the table and exploded mere centimeters in front of its owner's face, driving shrapnel into his flesh. Drass barely managed to close his eyes in time to avoid getting splinters in them.
After the smoke cleared, Drass hovered his hand over the table, trying to see where to move his next piece. His hand twitched over a shape for a second before flying to grab another piece and knocked Raan's piece out of place.
Raan's piece proceeded to do the same as Drass' piece did, flying towards his face and exploded, sending shrapnel in all directions. He managed to close his right eye in time, but his left eye was mangled by splinters of wood. He cried out in pain, but a woman standing beside the table slapped him with the butt of a pistol she had in her hand. He cringed in pain, covering his left eye. His right hand moved to a piece of his color. Half a centimeter away, it paused, travelled to another piece, and moved it about three inches to the left side of the table.
Drass watched this, and his hand twitched in anticipation. As soon as Raan's hand left the newly-moved piece, his hand flew to one of his own pieces, moved it from its present location to a spot almost all the way across the table. This caused one of Raan's pieces to burst into flames, reducing it and the pieces around it into ashes.
The woman standing next to the table said one word: "Checkmate," before raising the pistol to Raan's head and pulling the trigger.
Two men standing within twenty feet of the table walked forward, collected Raan's body, and carried it off to dispose of. Drass went to stand up, but another man sat him back down. He motioned for another, scared-looking young man to sit down across the table. The woman cleaned up what was left of the pieces on the table, and set new ones up, giving each player a different hue of wood.
"Begin," she said.