I was just interested in seeing our fourm members talent in writing. So post any dialogue, stories, poems that you ahve written here. :D

This is an extract (prolouge) from the book I am writing at the moment. Read on, if you are interested of course.

Prologue
Nothing where it should be

"I felt the urge to hit him. The urge to bombard his body with feelings of hate. I wanted him to fear me."

I awoke to the stale smell of cold coffee. I lay beside a young woman who had kindly given me refuge for the night. Sarah; she'd slept soundly. So had I. I'd not done that in weeks. I swiftly got up and looked out of the grimy window of the 3-star room. Mould grew around the outside of the windows, clouded my view, blurred distinctions between the vibrant plants that flourished light out side; The weeds and drearily dressed people outside. How fitting. I couldn't complain. I wasn't paying and I wouldn't be around much longer.

I whipped my clothes on, no like for the greater luxuries - no shower, no shaving. Still, it looked better. My dark brown jacket covered the blood that had soaked into my shirt; I'd been shot in the abdomen. So far I had survived, but I have a feeling that was only due to the shoddy emergency stitching I had performed last night. Sarah had been kind enough to clean my wound, not asking question of how I got it. I also had a rather nice pair of black polished shoes. Tying them reminded me of the pain of a bullet wound. My body folded inward putting pressure on my abdomen. But as I know, with time, pain passes.

I woke the young girl, offered to make her breakfast with her own food. She refused and said that there is a Café down the corridor and that we could eat there. She knew I couldn't be good for her. I said very little, she doesn't know my name, my interests, who I am. I came in late covered in blood, enquiring about any equipment I might be able to use to remove a bullet.

We walked down the corridor and into the bright café; I sat down and gestured to her to do the same. She followed.

Her eyes gazed over, but her frown said it all.

"Who are you?"
"Is that important"
"It is. I could go to the police you know?"
"But you won't"
"How do you know that?"
"Because you have no name for them, only a description; there are a million people who look like me and before they get here I'll be gone"

Silence has never been so stale, so emotive, so blistering.

"Ha ha"

She laughed.
I placed down £200, and left the table, and turned to leave. I made an impressive exit. As I reached the door to drape outwards a muscular arm pushed the glass door into my face. I was knocked into a wall. As I bounced off, my back hit the tiled floor hard. I heard a crack and I was winded... I thought I had broken a rib.

The cold muzzle pressed to my forehead, I froze.

All were still, and calm. Sat in their places

Not bad, but it seems rather generic to me. Sounds sort of like a comic book script.

sammyfreak:
Not bad, but it seems rather generic to me. Sounds sort of like a comic book script.

That is probably very accurate. But the story is original, and the writing (oddly enough) changes completley as I progress on.

But what about the stuff you have writen?

I have a story you can read... Another one that has already been published...

Chuck Norris wins the war on terror

Chuck Norris stood surrounded by over 100 terrorists. Only ten of them were within arms reach. He jumped straight up into the air and spun in a roundhouse kick, taking all ten of them down before he hit the ground. Before any of the others could attack he dove to his left and tackled the next nearest terrorist. He punched this man in the jaw, knocking him out, and picking his body up, used it as a shield. The terrorists fired at him with their AK-47s, but he caught all of the bullets with the first terrorist's body. He tossed the body at a cluster of seven terrorists, and caught a stray round in his teeth. He spat the round back at the person who fired it, and the man fell over clutching a fatal chest wound. To buy himself some time, Chuck Norris dropped to the ground and did a single rapid push-up. The resulting earthquake set all of the terrorists staggering. He did a cartwheel over to the largest group of terrorists and proceeded to roundhouse kick these people in the head.
He turned to find himself facing the remaining 75 terrorists, all pointing their rifles at him.
They fired as one.
Chuck Norris extended his hand and yelled "Stop!"
All of the bullets stopped in mid flight and fell to the ground in fright. Several of the terrorists wet themselves. He let out a low chuckle and glanced around the room. He ducked low as they opened fire again, and pulled a fighting knife from his boot. He threw it at a terrorist and watched as it sped through the first terrorist's body, through the man standing behind him and into the chest of a third terrorist. Without slowing down he tucked into a roll, caught a terrorist's feet in a scissor sweep and threw him at another cluster of terrorists.
One particularly smart terrorist dove at Chuck Norris with a bomb strapped to his chest. Chuck Norris jumped over his head as the bomb went off and used the power of the explosion to propel himself up unto the balcony where some of the terrorists had been shooting at him. He landed on one of the terrorists, and kicked out at the other. The kick propelled that terrorist's body off the balcony where it landed on one of the other terrorists, who was finally recovering from the first roundhouse kick.
Chuck Norris jumped down off the balcony, and caught a terrorist's rifle in his hand as he fell, bending the barrel so it couldn't fire. He then picked the terrorist up by the rifle barrel and threw him at the other group of terrorists who had finally recovered from the push-up. They all fell down again, and didn't get back up. Seeing that there were only 50 terrorists still standing, Chuck Norris kicked a Kalashnikov into the air and snatched it with one hand. He spied another one five feet away, and dove after it. A line of bullets traced towards him, but instead of hitting him, just knocked the rifle out of his reach. This made Chuck Norris mad. He dove over to the rifle and picked it up. It was jammed.
Without thinking he hurled his rifle at the gunman and watched as it slammed into the terrorist's head, knocking him off this mortal coil. A round zipped past his head, and without thinking he reached out and snatched the next one out of the air in mid flight, then hurled it back at the vehicle the man who had fired it was now hiding behind. The truck exploded in a spectacular fireball, killing three more of the terrorists. Readjusting his cowboy hat, which had become unseated in the explosion, Chuck Norris scanned the room. 40 people were still standing, and seven more were still conscious.
There was a sharp crack and a high caliber sniper rifle round zinged at his face. Chuck Norris frowned at it, and the bullet changed direction in the middle of it's flight. He heard some very un-religious swearing in Farsi coming from the rafters. Two more shots followed in quick succession. Chuck Norris laughed as two bullets hit his side. "Stop, that tickled."
He looked up and saw a man holding a .50 caliber Barrett Sniper rifle, trying to jack a new clip into the rifle. The man was so scared he couldn't seem to get it into the receptacle, so Chuck Norris just used his Kalashnikov to shoot the terrorist's feet. The other's were finally standing again, and all 47 turned to face Chuck Norris.
"Infidel, now you will DIE!" a terrorist screamed as he charged headlong at Chuck Norris. Chuck Norris stood there like a statue as the man ran face first into him. There was a sound like a hammer striking a steel barrel as the terrorist's head hit Chuck Norris' chest. The audible crunch of a neck snapping made everybody cringe.
Chuck Norris reached down and picked up a second assault rifle, then started firing at the crowd of terrorists with both guns, one in each hand. Within thirty seconds the smoke had cleared and all of the remaining terrorists were dead.
Chuck Norris stepped into the back room of the cave and saw Osama Bin Laden hiding in a corner, a yellow stream running down his leg.
Without a word Chuck Norris tied him up, frog marched him out to his trusty Dodge Ram, and threw him in the back. He drove to the nearest airstrip and drove his truck onto a waiting C-130 Hercules. Within ten minutes the plane was airborne for the United States. The war on terror was officially over.

This is a chapter from a book I am no longer writing:

The Lover's Quarrel

Darth Empyrean stood there, the radiant yellow glow of her lightsaber shimmering across the tight black leather of her pants and a bikini top, bronzing her beautiful features, and adding a surreal glow to her whole body.
"Now, Darth Mobius, you shall pay for slighting me."
"Christy, wait, what is wrong with you? I never meant to hurt you, you told me to go back to her so I did."
"No, I said that you looked like you missed your wife, so I told you to talk to her. You were never supposed to go back with her." She was a seething ball of rage, and he could see no way out of this. His best argument, "I loved you, and was still trying to work it out when you told me to go" died on his lips, unvoiced, but not unheard
"If you really loved me so much, why did you go back with her then? Huh? Was it because she was better than me?"
"Well, she was, but that wasn't the reason I left you." He knew his mistake, even though he knew with all of his heart that it was the kind of flip answer he always gave, so he wouldn't have changed it even if he had wanted to, but he could see the hurt in her eyes now, and he knew it would only make her even more angry. "I left you for the same reason you wanted me to. You couldn't stop thinking about your husband. So much so in fact, that, long after I had stopped thinking of my wife, you were still screaming his name with me. You want to blame me, then fine, it is all my fault, but don't kill all of your friends just to get vengeance on me. We can settle this like adults, but turning us over to Vader will only kill off those that you still care about, and that still care about you."
Vader spoke for the first time. "Now my apprentice, strike down your former master, feel the true power of the dark side, and become my apprentice."
She turned to him, an evil grin on her face. "Yes, my master. I-"suddenly a large explosion shook the ship from stem to stern. The demolition teams had successfully placed their timed charges and begun the destruction of the Lusankya. "Go, my master, leave him to me, I will join you when I am through with this pretender."
Vader turned and strode quickly from the room, not taking the chance of being caught in the destruction of the powerful warship.
"What are you doing, you know that he is going to kill off the last of your family, no matter what he says. If you kill me, he will have nothing to fear, because you aren't half as strong as he is, I am hardly that strong myself." He was trying to beg sanity out of a woman who had lost her sanity to a lust for vengeance long ago, and he knew it.
She seemed to stop for a second, see him as he truly was, and then just as rapidly closed down again. "Josh, you did this to me, you drove me to this, and now you and everyone who stood against me shall pay!" There was a second explosion as the engines were demolished, and a surge in the electrical system caused all of the bridge monitors to explode simultaneously. Without warning, Darth Empyrean lunged across the ten meter distance between them, and swung to decapitate her former master.
In that same moment, he dove to the side and caught her descending blade on his own. With a flip of his wrist he sent her blade spinning across the room, out of her reach. Before he could take advantage of disarming her though, she had somersaulted forward and was out of reach of his blade as she called hers back to her hand. "How many times do you think you can get away with a move like that Mobius?" The sarcasm dripping from her voice at the use of his taken name.
"One more time will be enough, sweetheart. I don't want to kill you, but I can destroy you if I have to." He used the force to calm her down, and her features softened for a minute. For that one minute she was the woman he had held in his arms all those nights, not the evil, cruel person who stood before him now. And then in a blast of rage it faded, lost for all eternity.
"Don't think your mind tricks will work on me, Mobius, I am stronger than you ever gave me credit for!" As she said this, she extended her arm then shot a bolt of lightning from her fingertips, extending straight to his head. Without thinking, he grabbed the lightning with one hand, and dissipated it to one side, but he missed the spot he was aiming for, and one of the already destroyed consoles caught fire as electricity arced across its shattered circuits. Within seconds the whole bridge was afire, consoles and the chairs that attended them burning with an acrid smoke that tested even Darth Mobius' skills with the force.
He detected the blow milliseconds before it would have connected with his torso, rending his chest in half. His blade was up and he was diving down before he realized it, the tell tale glow of her yellow lightsaber contrasting sharply with glow of the fires, and the orange glow of his own lightsaber. Once again, the force of his blow threw the blade across the room, but this time she held onto it, and used that momentum to evade his sweeping cut that would have cut her torso into two separate pieces.
With a snap-hiss she activated her second blade. This time adding a red tinge to the atmosphere, which was rapidly becoming a cloud of harsh smoke.
"Darth Mobius, you are not the only teacher of the dark side, and I have learned much since we separated. Now you will feel the true power of the Dark Side"
"Please. Christy, you couldn't maintain control of one blade, and now you intend to use two? Fine, I haven't had a good fight in ages, Let us begin." With that, he extended his second blade as well. A coruscating silver blade, this one almost half again as long as his original, she had never seen him fight with this blade. "I will be fair though, I will leave my long blade in my left hand so that you might have some chance of at least cutting it off. Not that I think you can."
She was upon him in a whirlwind of fire, red and yellow blades blurring and contracting so fast that no normal person could have seen all of the attacks coming at them. But Darth Mobius simply shrugged them aside, catching most of his attacks on his left hand blade, keeping her so far out of range as to look silly. "Gee, I thought you were going to attack me. You are just standing two meters away swinging your blades like a glow stick. Are you on spice? Did I miss the rave going on before I got here?" The taunts only made her more angry, and finally, after a full minute she managed to bat his blade far enough aside that she could step into range. Darth Mobius laughed as his backswing shaved the back of her head, just missing her scalp as she caught the blade on her own and used the momentum to propel her out of range in a tight roll. "I am not so sure that the short hair look works for you," he said casually as she picked herself up off the deck. She glared at him.
"Say what you want, Mobius, but you are running out of tricks, and I will defeat you."
"Blah, Blah, Blah, all talk and no action. You are putting me to sleep here. If you are so capable of defeating me, just do it, and quit trying to show off."
She lunged again and this time he let her come. Without moving he twisted her hand to the side with the force, just enough to cause her left hand blade to miss him by centimeters. With his right hand blade, he reached out and cut her lightsaber into two pieces, taking two of her fingers off with the lower part of the pommel. She fell to the deck as she screamed in agony. He casually replaced his silver lightsaber on his belt after deactivating it. "Come now, let go of your hatred for me. I don't expect you to love me again, just protect your family. I will give you and anyone who wishes to go with you a Star Destroyer, one of the new ones. Imagine the lifestyle you could carve for yourself with an entire Star Destroyer for your own personal use." He trailed off, not sure what else to say. He knew she would never trust or believe him, and even if she did, he wasn't sure he could trust her.
She growled at him, a look of fierce determination on her face. "Don't have the strength to finish what you started, do you Mobius? You are afraid to hurt one little girl. Well, I am not a girl any longer, and you never had the right to coddle me!" She had stood up, and with those last words, her yellow lightsaber swung at his head again. He casually caught her blade with his orange blade, and laughed.
"You are fun! I haven't been treated to such a spectacular fight in all my life. Your hatred may make you blind and stupid, but you sure are unre-"he dove to the side suddenly, avoiding the shift in leverage that would have forced his own blade down through his brain. "-lenting," he finished as he swept her blade up in his with such force that his hands vibrated from the shock of the impact. With a back hand sweep that knocked her blade down into the decking, he stepped forward and put his weight into her body. She brought her blade up and around in an overhead slice that would have cleaved him in two, but he simply brought his blade up to meet hers, his back to hers, his blade pushing hers up slowly. With a backwards kick she somersaulted forward again, desperate to break free of his overpowering strikes, and immensely skillful finesse.
He could see it in her eyes. That wild animalistic desperation that came from knowing she was not going to win this fight, but not being willing to surrender. She was out of deceptive tricks, and her strength and experience were less than his. The only thing she had to work with was trickery, and his finesse was allowing him to overcome any temporary setbacks that she was throwing his way. She was going to fight to the death, and he saw the dawning realization that the best she could hope for was the mutual destruction of a double kill. She would kill him if it was the last thing she did.
He also knew now was the time to end this fight. The smoke from the little guttering fires had dissipated to the point that it was closer to a light fog, rather than true smoke, the stench of burned circuitry lingering in the air. He stared at her standing five meters away, contemplating how far he was willing to take this. He could kill her if he had to, but he did still care for her, and he wanted to save her if at all possible.
"Don't worry Mobius, I won't give you a choice. I will make you kill me, or you will die. It is that simple to me."
"Less talk more fighting!" This time he lunged into the attack, sweeping her off her feet in the first seconds of his onslaught, dropping her to the deck with a thud that echoed across the bridge. His downward slice forced her blade down onto her face, leaving a nasty burn across the bridge of her nose. She rolled onto her left side and took his boot to the side, as she rolled with the kick, which reduced the pain to almost nothing. She shunted what little pain she felt aside, and used the momentum of her roll to bring her blade up in a slash that would have cut him from groin up to mid chest, but he was ready, and smashed her blade down, twisting her wrist painfully. Without missing a beat, she sliced laterally, moving her blade perpendicular to her previous cut, attempting to cut his leg out from under him. He simply somersaulted over her body, and out of range of her attacks. She sat up slowly, almost painfully, but she shunted aside the pain, and flexed her sore wrist.
"I don't want to hurt you anymore, Christy."
"Don't call me that!" she screamed. "I am no more Christy than Darth Vader is my husband! He is dead, and it is your fault! You killed my husband, and now you will kill me or die!"
He froze, surprised at what had really driven her to this madness. She thought he had killed her husband... But, "Look, this may be hard to believe, but Vader killed your husband. I may have led the task force, but Vader is the one who led the strike on the station. Vader personally walked through the halls, and he personally killed your husband. I have proof, just because I led the attack on him at Yavin doesn't mean that Vader destroyed the space station as vengeance. The attack on Fleet HQ took place two hours before the raid at Yavin, and you know it. You want to kill me because you think I was responsible for getting your husband killed because we never heard the distress beacon, but to get revenge on me, you ally with the one man who ordered the salvo that ripped the breath from your husband's lungs? Think for a second Christy."
But it was too late. "I...am...not...CHRISTY!" She lunged for him again, swinging with all of the power of her fury that she could muster, attempting to drive him back, to push him off the walkway, to distract him long enough that she could sneak a cut in and disable him and then kill him at her leisure. It was working. He was fighting for his life, and he was losing. Badly. He was using two hands on his blade, attempting to ride out her storm of sudden fury, when he tripped, catching his foot on the wreckage of a burned up chair. He rolled away as fast as he could, but she caught him a glancing blow that left a burn across the length of his left forearm.
"You don't understand, Josh," she smiled, her once beautiful smile all the more sinister for the way he found himself looking up at it. "Vader taught me enough to kill you, then I will kill him and take his place at the Emperor's side, until one day I can take from him control of the galaxy. You are just the first step in the way of my getting what I wanted all along, what I thought you were going to give me originally."
He stood finally, shocked at what he had done, at how he had misjudged her so. "But why? Nothing can bring him back. Not even the power the Emperor wields."
"I don't need to bring him back, I just need to keep him from dying. You see, I already have a clone of him developing, he will be mature in twelve years, and I need to learn how to slow the aging process, and keep him alive by then, or else I will have to keep cloning him, and teaching him all over again." She grinned. "Not that there aren't some perks to that as well."
"Wow, and I thought you were just distraught. You have really lost it lady. But please, we were having such a wonderful discussion of lightsaber skills, let us continue that, and we can worry about getting you therapy, if you survive."
They leapt at each other again, blades clashing with a hum, and each more determined than ever to finish this fight once and for all. Darth Mobius swung his blade to his right as he spun to his left, catching her blade and stopping it from coming near his body. As he swung around to face her, he snapped off a kick that flung her against the nearest command console. She grunted with the impact, but used the momentum of her rebound to power into an upper cut that would have severed him from hip to shoulder. He used her own momentum against her and pushed her blade higher, out of the way. He brought the bottom of his pommel down into her face as her blade reached the top of its arc, and she snapped over, falling on her back. She intercepted the downward arc of his lightsaber and rolled to the side, sending his blade into the console that had tripped her, causing another shower of sparks. She swept her feet around in a kick and suddenly he was lying beside her on the ground. He caught her blade less than ten centimeters above his face, but since she was still lying beside him, she didn't have the leverage to force it down any more. He pushed her blade off of his, and rolled away from her, using his momentum to leap to his feet and continue out of the way. She leaped after him, landing beside him and taking him by surprise. With a roundhouse snap-kick, she sent his blade flying across the bridge, the blade sputtering out in mid air.
Without hesitation, he pulled free his silver blade and swung it at her head. She ducked as he swung at her with the unactivated blade. He missed her by centimeters, but he hadn't intended to use it that way. With the flick of his wrist, he activated the blade, catching his blade inside her guard, and then he backslashed just as suddenly as he had stepped into it, catching her completely by surprise, severing her head completely from her body.
She exploded in a burst of blue fire, her Dark side energies exploding into the universe from which they had come.
Darth Mobius managed to prepare himself for it, but the explosion still threw him across the bridge, and he passed out when he hit his head on the console that caught his fall none to gently.

Crap_haT:

sammyfreak:
Not bad, but it seems rather generic to me. Sounds sort of like a comic book script.

That is probably very accurate. But the story is original, and the writing (oddly enough) changes completley as I progress on.

But what about the stuff you have writen?

Erm, I am a rather awfull writer so i ain't got nothin to share.

first let me just say that i wrote this story way back when i was in year 11(im now in university). i never did finish it though, its just sitting on my laptop doing nothing, hopefully ill get some inspiration someday to finish it. i even wrote a summary for all the characters, researched cool sounding japanese names and set out the whole structure of the story but for some reason my ideas just dried up and i havent touched it since lol. any ideas to continue would be greatly appreciated, i need the boost in ideas, thanks.

so without further ado, here it is:

Prologue

Upon entering the bar Fung could instantly smell the secrecy in the air. Strange goings on deep within concealed by great powers of magic. Local pub-goers drinking, oblivious to the change of hands about to take place. Breathing in the tense atmosphere once more Fung took a tentative first step towards the bartender and strode over to him. All eyes were on him now, the "newcomer" from far away. Fungs' clothes certainly spoke volumes about the background he came from; such regal and bright attire stood out like a sore thumb in this grungy joint. After what felt like a decade he reached the bar and leant upon it.
"What'll it be stranger," the barman enquired breaking the silence in the pub for the first time; he never took his eyes off Fung whilst waiting for a response. Even quieter than the silence that had taken hold again he answered,
"You know why I'm here, Jared."
Jared leant down to Fungs level and said in an equally quiet voice,
"Yeah, I know why, he's in the back" he handed him a small tablet, "you'll need it to bypass the portal in the toilet"
"I won't" Fung replied, a small flash of light from his eyes stopped Jared asking why.
With nothing else to say Jared continued the act, "Toilets over there mate" he pointed over to a little single man cubicle, someone else was getting up to use it, Fung sprinted over pushed the man out the way and locked himself in before anything could be done about it.
"Must've needed to go real bad, eh" laughed Jared along with the rest of the pub.

Chapter One

Up in the shadows Ryu waited; shurikens gripped firmly in his hand glistened in the moonlight. His black outfit allowed him to join the denizens and enveloping darkness of the night. Eyes that showed no emotion, only the quickest glances showed any signs that he was alive. His bellowing cape flailed on the gentle wind as he gazed down from his perch of death. The sheathed sword resting on his back wreathed with light blue flames, jumping and dancing around the cold steel. He was calm and collected, his mood matching that of the breeze. Foliage down in the valley encapsulated a small, secluded structure; a cover of gloom shrouded it from view.
"Clearly there are far greater forces at work here" he decided.
Rocking gently in the boughs of the tree, the house below was in his sights. A momentary spasm of nervousness passed across his forehead. For a second he was human again, susceptible to fear. He and fear were long lost friends. That was in the past that he had gone to them and this was the path he now walked. He was waiting, that was his "job". If a shinobi was impatient, he either ended up wounded, captured or dead none of which were an option to him. Surveying the entrance a silhouette appeared and advanced.

Movement! A door slid open slowly. Light shone, at first a splinter then a block of far-reaching rays piercing the darkness. Two guards gingerly stepped outside, turned in opposite directions and patrolled back and forth. Ryu watched this with quiet abandon; with his hawk-like eyes he could make out that they were fully clad in a standard issue armor called amnahc. From the way they were holding their swords he could also tell they were rookies probably hired a few days ago. One turned on his heels and marched inside.
"Ishmi, my lord," the guard said inside, apparently startled.
CLANGCLANGCLANG! The sound of metal boots resounded as a silhouette appeared in the doorway. As he bent his head to get through the door, it was the first thing Ryu saw. A giant foot came next sending up a plume of dirt as it connected with the ground. Then the rest of his body. Ryu noted that he was quite well built for his stature. No matter how strong he was, his final hour on earth had arrived.

There Ishmi stood. Only moments ago he was seated meditating at his shrine, the four elements water, fire, air and earth had all been in perfect balance in his mind, that's when he had felt it. A fluctuation in chi energy from the fire element, a doubt in a person's mind if you will, an insignificant change yet one that had him standing outside now in the dark feeling more uncomfortable by the second.
His black unkempt hair showed signs of many years' battle and ageing with many little white hairs beginning to surface. Great beatings, both physical and mental he had endured as a child, seeing his parents murdered by rival factions in his village. Left for dead he wandered the countryside. Defeated he had lay down and accepted his fate: that's when HE found him. Oda. But back then he was not a general, let alone Emperor Fungs' right-hand swordsman. Back then he was a kind and compassionate man helping Ishmi regain his strength. Torture by his own hand replaced young Ishmi's nightmares about his parents. In time he forgot about them and when Oda was appointed to swordsman he took Ishmi under his wing to train, the marks on his body reminding him of his terrible past. During the revolt Oda had taken over and rebelled against the Emperor which had resulted in Fung banishing Oda and giving Ishmi the position of general. Momentarily Oda had been driven out with his followers in tow, right now he was planning to take over the kingdom and, with Ishmi's help on the inside, not only would he achieve this but he could rule the world with the power he would soon wield. He smiled at the thought. This change in chi energy worried him though, he couldn't sense it out here but he still stood there nonetheless, searching the net of night which concealed the intruder. There was someone or something lying in wait, he knew it.

There was no doubt in Ryu's mind that this was one of Oda's generals, for he carried the official seal on his sword, twin dragons intertwining. All of Oda's generals carried Shinto blades, children's swords; he was no different, a curved sword rested in its sheath. Yet there was something different about this general's sword that seemed to resonate an unearthly glow just like his except it was forever glowing blue. His sword's colour changed then as well to a mix between green and purple, completely bewildering him.
"I must stay focused; the answer will come to me, eventually".

Something happened then that neither of them expected. A bead of sweat sat on Ryus forehead, slowly trickling down and, deep within his soul he began to shake, invisible to the naked eye but bright as day to Ishmi. He felt it. "There you are," he whispered.
Ishmi glanced up to the tree where Ryu waited and their eyes seemed to connect for a split second but that was all. Then just out of earshot, he whispered to one of the guards, "Please make sure our guest is welcomed,"
Both guards nodded but with uncertainty. Returning to patrol and with Ishmi walking inside Ryu muttered to nothing in particular, "Your time or day of death is uncertain but I will bring it when necessary". He clasped his shurikens with a renewed vigor and leapt out into the blanket of night.

Huddled in the bushes, Ryu waited again; the guards hadn't seen his freefall from the tree or his dashes from hedge to hedge. He looked at his hand and noticed the shuriken had pierced the skin, he was anxious or nervous.
Both of which could spell his demise.
"Fly true" he whispered to the jagged steel rings and, in one fluid motion, flung them in quick succession with all his strength. They skimmed on a bed of air, silent but deadly. The guard saw them approaching but was powerless to change his fate. A silver lined star sliced through the exposed, vulnerable skin on his neck like butter, puncturing the weak, frail spine that held his body together. Two others shot through his stomach leaving torn muscle and sinew in their wake. A gargle escaped his mouth and he crumpled to the floor, a sea of blood gushing from his neck and body. The other guard stood momentarily shaken then ran to his fallen comrade; he barely had time to shout for help before his head was taken from his shoulders by a flash of red light as his head sailed through the air into Ryu's open hand. Staring up at him was a face with an expression fixed between surprise and pain.
In his other hand Ryu tightened his fingers exerting a firm but delicate grip on the hilt of his sword, his most treasured possession, his only one: Dakkoh, firewalker. It again mirrored his mood, glowing and leaping with golden flames of fury and anger. He sheathed it slowly and cautiously.
CLICK
The guards' body and head turned to ash, in his hand the dust trickled through his fingers and sailed on the tender breeze out to sea. He approached the door, slicing it open and continued walking; nothing had turned out right from the start, whoever this Ishmi was he wouldn't be leaving this place alive.

Through the dense undergrowth a stealthy figure jumped from tree to tree with inhumane agility and precision, sounds erupting from every snapped branch and noisy footsteps. Sheer determination was her only guide.
There was no doubt that questions would be answered after a quick visit to a certain hideout. She had forgotten how easy it was for her position to be compromised and given away. He could be following right now. These feelings gave her a further burst of speed, fear gripped the steering wheel now and conscious thought was pushed aside. Darting between trees her ripped costume trailed behind leaving bright red streaks.

Retrieving the sword from a guards body Ryu held it by his side as he rounded another corner.
"Arrrrrrrrrrgh!" another guard ran at him with his sword overheard ready to strike.
"I don't have time for this" Ryu told him, shifting his weight ready to receive the blow.
The swords met and steel clattered, sparks shining from the grinding of blades. The guard pressed on Ryu.
"You're mine now!" he yelled
"At last. A puppet with some skills" Ryu replied with no tone of winning or losing.
Ryu focused starting to push back as Dakkoh burst into orange flames, licking and jumping around the steel.
The guard stumbled back but wasn't deterred for long. Blocking the next hit, Ryu parried it aside, swiveled on his heel and chopped the guard's sword arm off. His blade clapped on the floor with the severed limb still clasped round the hilt; it flopped for several seconds then died. Claret sprayed from both arm and man.
Dropping to his knees in a pool of blood the guard stared up at the infiltrator, this "person" who had wiped out half of Oda's best men; he began to think that being the best wasn't good enough.
"Death for you right now would be a blessing, I won't give you such freedom yet" Ryu said calmly "tell me where Ishmi is and your life will be spared"
The samurai considered this with a great depth of thought, he tried to stand (the ninja made no attempt to stop him) but the loss of his appendage greatly prevented any effort at regaining balance, so he gave up and continued to kneel.
With a voice of decision, he spoke "I have no intention of telling you anything, kill me, I have nothing to live for, I'm dead already," he hung his head in shame. Ryu circled round to the samurais back.
"So be it, you are expendable like the rest" he said matter of factly.
The samurai felt two hands on his chin, he never saw it coming, a forceful jerk up and sideways, a flash of pain, a muffled scream and his lifeless body slithered to the floor with his neck twisted askew.

In the vast forest she stood bent double gasping for breath and coughing up blood, she had been roughed up quite a bit.
"Bastard," she whispered, wiping the remaining blood from her mouth, "he caught me off guard, I should've been more careful".
The trees surrounded and protected her from the outside world, different types of birds, animals and other creatures of Mother Earth's creation scampered and flew through the forest. She straightened up with the help of her blade, walked over and slumped against the nearest tree. Nursing her bloody arm she wrapped it in her ripped costume shielding out embarrassment from revealing parts of her undergarments; she was in the bowels of Mother Nature. She could've strip naked and rested to recuperate if she wanted. Yet rational thought told her that they were probably looking for her. However the grip tiredness applied on her will was stronger. She began to take off her clothes oblivious to the surroundings, bundled them into a makeshift pillow, found the nearest tree, lay down and drifted off instantly into a defenseless slumber.

A few metres away another figure sat waiting on the branch of a tree; it swayed and moved in time with the prevailing breeze. He watched the females' brazen body glistening as the sunlight dispersed through the canopy of trees, a sight yet to be beheld by any human. The person took one more perverted look at his prey then darted back through the trees in the opposite direction.
"Oda will be pleased to know that his daughter is still very much alive" he shared with the foliage and fauna he passed.
All the while slumped against the tree Kurenai slept unaware of the events about to unfold.

Walking down the coal-black tunnel Ryu could feel a strong presence at the end even though his sight was as good as gone. The only light available was slowly dwindling away on his sword, a sign that he was lost: both physically and mentally within. It didn't matter, with his sight temporarily gone his other senses awakened from a dormant slumber. His ears perked up. Apart from the faint crackling of remaining light being extinguished from his sword, there was no other noise. The repetitive taps from his shoes on the stone floor could be heard for miles reverberating off the walls.
After a few minutes the reverberations stopped and the tunnel abruptly ended opening out into a wide chamber. Natural instinct told him to look up in case of an ambush but this notion was banished when he gazed up into......nothing. Pitch black gloom stared back, unblinking; Ryu was stunned for a second but regained his composure and through it came his determination and spirit back with a vengeance. The room was "decorated" with burning lamps hung on the walls; apart from this they were just as bleak as the room itself. It was like a giant barrier had been placed in the middle because no light penetrated the upside down black hole above. Over on the far wall was a shrine honouring the four elements of earth, fire, water and air, each one making up a very important part of human life; if any one element wasn't present then organic life would not be able to exist.

Fire, could take away life but it could also grant it to others, only one source of fire could do this, the sun. Ancient scriptures Ryu had read in his youth had prophesized the existence of four amulets representing each element. The fire amulet was eternally sealed into his sword, Dakkoh. The remaining three amulets he knew couldn't exist because they were before his time.
Pulling himself back to the present and allowing further time for his eyes to readjust to the darkness he could make out a man prostrating in front of the shrine. Ryu's hand flew to his sword; he found comfort in holding the engraved hilt. Withdrawing Dakkoh silently and swiftly he spread his weight ready for battle; no doubt this was one of Ishmis "most powerful" samurais. This time round however there were no pyrotechnics happening on the blade to match his battle ready mood, this stunned him momentarily.
"Trouble starting a fire" the mystery man said mockingly.
Ryu knew what he was referring to. On the outside he held a calm demeanour in spite of himself. Standing and turning to face Ryu the man fixed him with a razor-like glare. "Ah" he continued shutting his eyes "my master was right, you are clearly lacking in a certain department" an evil smile crept over his face.
Compared to Ryu this samurai was quite skinny, although he knew his skill was probably second to none, his obvious thinness and strength meant that he was quick as well. He moved ever so slightly and Ryu caught the unmistakable glimmer from his sword, a Shinto blade, but how? Lowly samurais were never allowed to touch them let alone handle them.
"You carry a generals sword samurai, yet you are not of honour or skill to wield it, who are you?" he spoke with rage in his voice without shifting his position too much.
"I am Kuturi, guardian of the shrine and also the key to leaving this chamber"
Now he had mentioned it Ryu had not seen any other ways out, he hesitated too long, and Kuturi must have sensed it because he spoke again.
"Your in no state to fight me, shinobi, I see that you are split between two choices," he caressed his blade once then drew it, loudly, metal sliding on metal echoed deep throughout, when the noise died down he held it out in front of him and continued talking "one, fight and defeat me or two, fight and die, part of you has already accepted death by my sword, you can't win, you're WEAK". On weak he lunged towards Ryu.

Flames engulfed a house, a woman screaming for help, a young girl stood with her father as her memories and dreams were swallowed up by a huge red monster, the screams of anguish eventually dying out.
"Mother, MOTHER" she cried out with tears welling up in her eyes. Her father cuddled her while she let them rain down on his shoulders.
"She......she's gone" he sobbed.
Barely audible over the crackling of fire the girl spoke again "No, she can't be, she just can't".
Another flood of tears came then and she cried, holding nothing back and letting it all out, the realization of losing her mother providing most of the tears.
The two of them stayed there late into the night kneeling and crying over their loss, in the background the smoldering building loomed over them like a giant shadow.

Kurenai woke up and frantically fumbled for Donnoh, she found her sword lying a few feet away in the surrounding undergrowth. At the same time she realized she was naked.
"A complacent ninja is a dead one" she recited whilst getting dressed again. Although Kurenais' costume was ripped it still fitted her fine as she pushed her head through it, down and over her svelte body. Living this life meant there was no time for a man but that didn't stop them from ogling her, she was fine without one however a familiar feeling in her loins made her think that there was something missing. An empty space that needed to be filled.
"Maybe in another life" she mumbled
Her wound had healed partly because in its place was a big red scab, she didn't give it another thought, in time it would mend. Walking shakily over to a nearby pond Kurenai washed her face and long black hair, relief came from having the water run through her fingers and hair, and she found solace in it. She didn't like tying back her hair so it was left to fall over her slightly broad shoulders and rest. Both in body and mind she felt revitalized and refreshed, ready for the journey ahead. Donnoh was perched against the tree when she went to retrieve it, on appearance Donnoh could easily be mistaken for another Shinto blade except for two insignificant yet massive differences. One, carved into the blade itself was the actual name, rinsewater. And two, Donnoh (rinsewater) chose its handler not the other way round, Kurenai had been in for a shock when her father had given it to her and the sword had accepted the change in hands. Thinking of him brought back bad memories, both of him and of the fateful day when she lost her mother in the fire.
"One day" she whispered, silently crying.
Kurenai picked up her sword, once again getting lost in its ice cold hold, rested it over her wounded shoulder, wiped the tears away and started walking.

Sitting alone in his fortress Oda gazed out upon the land that would soon be under his control. Smiling, he allowed himself to be taken by tiredness, sleep was a luxury that he couldn't afford at the moment but right now there seemed no reason why he shouldn't drift off.
"My lord, my lord" shouted someone puncturing his bliss.
"So much for that" Oda grumbled, opening his eyes and answering "what is it Hishimi"
"Sir it...it's your daughter, she's still alive" he stammered.
"Thank you, now leave me please" he replied with irritation setting in.
"As you wish" Hishimi unwittingly bowed and exited
Oda relaxed again and contemplated his next move; there was doubt in his mind about where she would be heading next. The sword he gave her wasn't invincible but he didn't doubt Donnohs' power or his daughters' skills which were truly honed, more so than some of his "top" samurais. He hadn't raised any underachiever, only the best qualified for his daughter, Oda regretted giving her these sentiments now. The solution to his problems wouldn't come to him whilst he was awake, sleep would provide the answers he needed. Without further deliberation he took one last look outside then fell asleep instantly.

Ryu blocked the first strike but staggered backwards from its force, he just managed to parry the second abit too late, the cut on his arm a sign of where Kuturis' blade had broken through his guard. Dakkoh still failed to light up, little sputters of light showed there was life in the blade still. Ryu knew this could well be his last fight but he wouldn't die a coward, he'd die honorably. After fending off the third blow he surged forward and pushed Kuturi off balance, Ryu aimed for the head and slashed at his neck. Kuturi was quick but the sword found its mark and a minute cut opened, Ryu backed off, his job was done. Kuturi swiftly wiped up the blood on his neck and he looked at it.
"Well done, you actually made me bleed, it won't happen again" he said slyly.
"You're finished anyway, being struck by my sword," he held it out "means certain death" Ryu retorted.
The graze caught fire and started burning like a fuse. Kuturi laughed then, an evil malicious laugh that resonated throughout the chamber, Ryu flinched.
"Oh, does it really," he chuckled oblivious to the smoke rising from his neck "you mean from this", pointing to his neck, he smeared the blood on his finger across it and the fire went out instantly, another pass over the wound and it was sealed. Ryu couldn't process what had just happened; he could only stare in equal amounts of horror and amazement.
"That's much better," Kuturi sneered "shall we continue"
He didn't wait for an answer before attacking again.
They both exchanged several more blows before coming to rest again.
"You've held out for longer than I expected" Kuturi panted regaining his composure. Ryu couldn't respond, he knew his time had come.

*simply purses her lips as she gets all of the instigated undertones, and leaves after printing out a copy to reread later*

Despite the undertones Love...great chapter.

Was replying to Mobius' story just to clarify things...