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Hey.

This is me.

I’m a detective. It says so on my door…well…it would if I could get one of those cool fractured glaze windows. The stained glass depicting yakface rising to his ascension is not what I had in mind when they said ‘and you’ll get a cool door’
First, I might try to describe myself.

Seven foot Humboldt squid. Yes. A squid. Pretty mundane for Dakka, really. I wear a trench coat and hat and move around with foot-tentacles, I am not a gumshoe, mainly because I don’t have any shoes and my suckers provide enough resistance as it is.
I would have ‘normal’ human body, if that was encased in a molluscian shell and a normal human breathed through his chest. Biology of a squid. Look it up.

Where was I? oh yeah.
It was a dark and stormy night… hmm…not much past that. I set down my typewriter and began to brainstorm. (briansquid?) When the door was knocked upon.

I was a bit wary, A few nights ago a troll burst in, not one of the Troll Nation gang members, but one of the nutso flaming hicks, the mods were a few steps behind him and trussed him up for a long ban.

But as I said, I was wary. I reached for my piece, a little wonder I like to call the ‘flamer one shot and POW, no more poster spirit, it was not actually legal and if a Mod caught me with it I would have a stern talking to, but we of the larger-post-count class of folks here get off with a warning. Mostly.
The Flamer was your standard revolver, with an’ ignore’ in each chamber.
Not as pansy as your ordinary flamers, mine was upped with a ‘delete key’ inside, just for that extra oomph.

Where was I? oh yeah, knock on the door.

The door opened.

And boy howdy, the figure was a strange one to say the least. It looked like a miniature Warhound Titan. Wearing cowboy hat.

“Raptor, what can I do for you?”
RaptorsTalon was an old friend of mine, we met while serving aboard the old SS Inter-Astrum. The ship had sunk on it’s second voyage out of board, it was astonishing, an RP threadship with a cargo of plots, maps, characters, races and technology. All gone. Most say it died because it was left in the Mill for to long, I agree. That was why. Not any conspiracy or anything…poor ol’ mordo, we worked and slaved on that thing, then it all died. His hopes were on dredging it up from the bottom of the Into Ocean. But that was unlikely.
Raptor answered. “I’ve had a trying day, right? You just gotta hear this.”

“what?” I asked, poking at my ashtray. The ash of many a story had solidified into a kind of grey rock.

Raptor answered
“Someone’s been killed.”

Awesome.

To say the least ineptus...

why, thank you.

I am editing the second part now in fact.

Excellent.

There should be an Orkomoticon for that...

(Tra-La! I have been working on this for a day or two)


It was not pretty. That’s for sure.

Whoever wanted this guy dead had made sure of it.

I turned to the Mod that had shown me the body, Manchu.

“I have an answer.”

Manchu looked surprised. “Really?” asked the floating helmet.

“Yes, he’s dead.”

Manchu turned and left, no room for humor I guess.

I turned back to the corpse, it was-sorry, had been a person. I racked my lid for a name to fit the (mangled) face.

Then it hit me.

The reptilian features’, the wide-open mouth, the scales, the mentally-unstable expression in a mask of horror.

Wardragoon.

Odd. And disgusting. Someone had carved his entrails out and heaped them around his corpse. The strangest thing though, was the room.

It was pristine, so what? The killer tidied up before he left? Nope.

There were faint traces of blood leading in from the hallway and Manchu had said that there had been a large U-Mad-Haul outside for several minutes before it left. The men had carried something into the building. The men carrying it in had been wearing trench coats so no one saw their mugs.
I reached a hooked tentacle up and scratched my head.

Who could have done this? Who had anything against Wardragoon?

Time to hit the streets.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
I had thanked the Mods for letting me see and take a few pics, then skedaddled. Manchu had been reliving himself of his lunch when I left.

I was wandering an old haunt, the OT boards a few folks recognized me, some waved, some gave glared. Like me or hate me, that’s how it goes here.

The OT was in a perpetual state of Rain, no one knew why, it just rained and rained, a few threads looked welcoming, bright colors and users frolicking in their windows. But I hurried on down the streets.

As I passed possibly the most notorious ally on Daka, an equestrian figure came out of it.
It as an equine shape, the face suggested the cartoony image of a troll and the ‘hooves’ were holding the Dakka Daily.
“Ineptus, whats up?” asked the apparition.

I suppressed the urge to run like mad and turned to face Dakka’s resident and self-proclaimed madman.

“Kasrkai. ‘morning.” I said nervously.

Kasrkai trotted over, he was a ponyesque figure, apparently from FiM. A trollface adorned his flank. He produced a strange device, some sort of toaster, fixing it onto his head, he strapped the machine’s straps under his chin.

“What…is that…thing?” I asked, backing away, every neighborhod has a crazy.

“It’s a toaster.” Said Kasrkai, giving me an odd look.

“But…its on your head…” I tried to point out
“so?’ he asked, daring me to challenge his logic. I gave up.
Kasrkai left when he saw some lurkers in the bushes, galloping at high speed and yelling something about the ‘Wonderful Stratracation weevil” don’t try to understand the guy, hes a headache on hooves.
A few aspirins later I was at an old haunt, the people in the place knew the street pretty well. Maybe I could glean some info…

The sign read.

“The Brony Café”
…
…
…
…
… So? Are you insinuating that I enjoy watching a show about colorful ponies? Well I do! Serotyper…
That dosn’t mean I’m soft you know, Imma tough-as-nails-detective, who dose manly-er…squidly things. And they are none of your business at all! Well…aside from this story…

Anyhow…

Oh yeah, the BC.

I stepped inside, the place was warm. Not that stale, lived-in warm you get in cramped shuttles and whatnot, but that cozy, coffee house warmth, the kind of warmth you want to wrap up in a package and buy, the smooth jazz kind.

The place was an ordinary thread, a building of three stories, one storage and two dining. I sat down at the bar and began to glare at it with my tea-cup sized eyes. (squid, r‘member?)

After a while, a silvery-blue wolfish thing slunk over. Platuan always slunk’ed he was probably born slinking. He was a very furtive person.
He leaned on the bar in an unconvincing attempt to be a stereotypical barman and cleaned a glass with a rag filthier than the street. Grime formed.

“Hey Ineptus, It is I, Platuan, the unflappable barma-”

I held up a tentacle.

“do we have to go through that every time you talk to me?”

Platuan looked both ways. “errr….yes?”

This guy.

I sighed in defeat. “Fine. but I am not going to play along, m’kay?”

“Can-do-seabees.”

There he goes again with the World War Two Quotes.

“So,” I said, looking both ways. Platuan leaned closer.

“I hear that you knew Wardragoon.”

Platuan shifted uneasily. “If its about the Mexican beans, in all fairness, it never said on the label that they would keep jumping in the pot-”

“no. it is not about the beans I thought we agreed never to talk about the Beans again.”

“oh yeah. But you have to admit, when Lunahound’s screamed up to high heaven in the privy when they-”

“so? He lived.”

“Yes, but he was in a wheelchair for six weeks.” Said Platuan.

I waved it away. “Stop trying to derail me, a’right? We all know the Doomers operate under the table.”

“My tables are clean and free of gum, thank you!”

“What?”

“you were accusing my tables!” claimed the mechanical wolf.

“I was no- where the hell do you get these ideas anyways?”
“your order.” Grumped Platuan, handing me my regular, a cup of black tarrish stuff that could pass for coffee if you cut out your tongue.
I ambled over to another familiar face. A Chaos star on cartoony legs with Mickey-mouse hands.
“Hey” said Frozen Ocean, waving one of said gloved hands.
“Hey.” I replied, staying standing.
“in a hurry?” he asked, setting down his food, an unspeakable offering to the dark gods. The BC served all kinds.
“Yeah. Bye.” I said, wanting to get moving soon.
Soon enough I was riding the Cursor downtown, the big buildings loomed all round me.
I paid the driver, some sort of cat, and headed into the heart of Dakka City.
Several minutes later, I was banging on a door in one of the high apartments, the sign on it read. ‘pancakes are accepted.’

And below, a smaller sign. ‘syrup too’

And below, an even smaller sign, I had to get out my magnifying glass to read it.

‘money is fine too.’

The door was opened by a furtive looking figure, it took one look at me and opened the door wide.
The squirrely-thing that was Lord Commosar Klimono (A grand name for an average-joe.) let me inside to a flat filled with pictures of the Lackadaisy Cats, half-baked plans for ruling the Forums and a single heavy binder, presumably for his day job. Him, like me, worked down in the RP forums, but he was commuting out-of-site now, mainly doing his work in the Cat’s Basement, another RP forum. Many said it was the comminist, totalitaian version of dakka, others said it was the ‘best pace ever’ don’t ask me, I am not at liberty to tell you. The basement employs some pretty tough goons though.

Back out of la-la land…

‘LCK’ as we called him, sat down on his couch. It was the cleanly grubby sort. If that make an ounce of sense. LCK flopped down on his back.

“this about Wardragoon?” he asked.
I leaned back in the chair and put my feet up on the table in between us.

“Yes.”

“What can I say? he arrived to ask me if I had any extra paper clips then turns you all over a hotel room.”

I nodded. “But…” I prompted.

“no buts about it.” He said, I don’t know, m’kay?”
“but-”

“No buts!”

“Fine.”

I knew that LCK was gonna be jumpy, he’s like a thermometer. One thing goes wrong and he flips. Dunno why. He calls it his ‘Klimono Sense’

Never seen him like this before. This was going to be big.

I started back down the street, no clues, no leads. Nothing.
A few people passed me on my way back to my office.
I stepped into the grimy, dingy stairwell in the building that leads to my office, its on the first floor up, so not much of a walk.
When I got in, I knew something was wrong, my office was trashed-I mean, more trashed than usual.
“Hmm…” I said, slowly approaching my desk.
As I drew close, I could see that my desk had a note on it.
meet me at the warehouse district. The Inter-astrum’s launching point. Come alone

a good read, though i´d be damned if i knew what it was about^^ guess i have to keep on coming back to get the knowing^^

cheers mate, we definatly need more of your madness^^

vik

I like it!

A good read. A very good read indeed. Funky chicken approves .

Great work man.

But more I say, more!

I need to see what other characters you will descript (hopefully myself included) and also what will happen next...

... this is weird, me being so into a story on the internet...

:lol: ill give it a 7-8/10.

ill keep an eye on this. good read so far

Oooo I like it, I like it alot. And Doomers?? I find that amusing, dose this mean we get a hint of recognicion?

ineptus astartes wrote:I suppressed the urge to run like mad and turned to face Dakka’s resident and self-proclaimed madman.

“Kasrkai. ‘morning.” I said nervously.

Kasrkai trotted over, he was a ponyesque figure, apparently from FiM. A trollface adorned his flank. He produced a strange device, some sort of toaster, fixing it onto his head, he strapped the machine’s straps under his chin.

“What…is that…thing?” I asked, backing away, every neighborhod has a crazy.

“It’s a toaster.” Said Kasrkai, giving me an odd look.

“But…its on your head…” I tried to point out
“so?’ he asked, daring me to challenge his logic. I gave up.
Kasrkai left when he saw some lurkers in the bushes, galloping at high speed and yelling something about the ‘Wonderful Stratracation weevil” don’t try to understand the guy, hes a headache on hooves.

I don't always fixate my fantasy logic, but when I do:



On another note, you should PM people about what they would do. More realism, like a community project.

Kasrkai wrote:On another note, you should PM people about what they would do. More realism, like a community project.

i can imagine you putting a toaster on your head.

I like this. This is good.

Also, it's not a toaster.

A thermal resonance cascade emitter is nothing to laugh at.

i will say he got me pretty accurately. im all like "nope. not talking and not caring. now. GO. AWAY."

although i dunno how jumpy i am. most of the arguments ive been in were started by me. XD

A toaster is just a Death Ray with a smaller power supply.

Coolyo294 wrote:A toaster is just a Death Ray with a smaller power supply.

Mmhmm.

Toast is dead bread. True story.

Indeed. Though it's primary use is to allow lurkers I've stuffed into my mouth to melt, so that they may drain down my throat like sweet meats ablaze.

I would very much like to feature in this, as a villain perhaps?

Put me banging on the door of a huge apartment block shouting; "PLEASE LET ME BACK IN". (apartment block = dakka mine craft server)

I like just to pretend that I'm already in it, but nobody can penetrate my photonic waveform oscillation field or the sonic dampeners.

That is, I'm invisible.

Guys, just chill...

... I'm sure he'll feature as many of you as he can, but even if I don't feature on it, its still a good read...

... just let the man do his work...

thanks kais.

I can tell you that many users will feature in it as main characters. (mostly the ones I know best) the others may receive cameos or refs in-passing.

If a villian is needed Im game, misuse me in anyway you wish. just keep the good stories comming

And interaction between the said Ork and Reaper?

yes. aound the fourth bit.

I am writing the third bit now, it will be up around one o'clock noon Nepal time tomorrow. it involves a bit of action, but this will not be a fighting-centric story. it will be a story-centric story.

ineptus astartes wrote:it will be a story-centric story.

Will it have plenty of talking-filled dialogue?

Nerivant wrote:

ineptus astartes wrote:it will be a story-centric story.

Will it have plenty of talking-filled dialogue?

Nerivant wrote:

ineptus astartes wrote:it will be a story-centric story.

Will it have plenty of talking-filled dialogue?

Ineptu?

This thread has gone silent...