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[Supermikhail]

Well, yeah... but that was the kind of bitter sarcasm... kinda maybe martyrdom. Like "Come on, take me, put me on your cross, I've got nothing more to lose," plus the sense of this being a very important drama... At least it seemed that way (hey, I wonder if I'm the author of my own actions).

Not that I can come up with something reasonable to answer to Willfor... Except maybe follow his advice. But that doesn't leave much to my replies, does it.

[Willfor]

I really don't want to make you feel bad, Mikhail. There just needs to be some balance. The problem here is that we're all writers here. Writing is probably one of the most ego-intensive art forms there is because our words can tie so closely to who we are. We all have egos, every one of us. We all need criticism to make us better, but we all have to remember that there is a whole world out there ready to hate what we write. We need criticism, but we also need that construction while we're still in the apprenticeship stage. We need to build each other up to face the literary world.

We're all crazy here, so let's all be crazy together.

[Fishbreath]

Oh, so this is why the writers' guild thread closed. I suppose I should update my signature...

I'm delighted to announce that I've actually finished a story for the first time since NaNoWriMo 2006. This one is shorter than that one and took a lot longer, but it's done and I'm mostly satisfied with it. It's yonder at Many Words. I'm probably going to try to sell it as an ebook via Smashwords with some extra editing and some extra content, but I'm pushing that down the road a little. Right now I'm writing a 1920s Nazi-punching globetrotting zeppelins-and-strange-airplanes skypirate adventure archaeology pulp short, about which I'm fantastically excited.

[Ehndras]

I haven't been writing at all. I need to get on that. <_<

[AlStar]

I'm probably going to try to sell it as an ebook via Smashwords

Tell me more about this - for instance, why Smashwords over Amazon or some other service? Do you have any previous experience with selling online? How was it? Any tips/tricks?

I've just finished the draft on a 10k word short story/novella, and (after I've cleaned it up) I was planning on looking into e-publishing, and I'd really like to hear from people that have experience.

[Fishbreath]

It would be my first self-published piece, too, but I've done some comparison shopping, and I'm going with Smashwords at least for now for these reasons:

• Availability in lots of stores. Amazon's not on the list (there was some issue that they're still clearing up, and it takes some manual effort for them to get something listed on Amazon), but they'll put it practically everywhere else for you.
• Decent royalty rate. Presumably you're making a little bit less than you would if you went to each store individually, but having everything in one place is handy for keeping track of sales and income (not that I think that'll actually be a concern for me)
• Easy typesetting. It's nice that I don't have to work out how to convert flat text into .epub; I don't think it's all that hard, but it's still nice just having to turn it into .doc with some styles applied, since anyone monkey or better can work that out.

[Caz]

Want me to insult you into action? Otherwise, it's good practice to put a draft away for a couple of months and then approach it with a clear head. Have you tried that?

I've heard of that. Maybe a few months break from it invading my every waking thought will be helpful.

I am curious about the 'insult into action' thing, though. :p

[Reudh]

Insulting into action really works...

My teacher used to do it, if he didn't like a piece he'd insult the writing and it would galvanise you to write better, using your anger/embarrassment at the insult to fuel it.

[Supermikhail]

Insulting into action really works...

Not when I do it, apparently...

Maybe it's about being really honest about it. When I do it I put in lots of disclaimers that I realize that it's all subjective, that it may depend on my mood and various other bias... I guess I should work on it. Pure unadulterated hate.

Decent royalty rate [...] (not that I think that'll actually be a concern for me)

I wonder why it's not a concern for you.

Your words have suddenly connected to something Douglas Adams wrote. He said that there'd be one day magazines publishing e-fiction which would collect good stories. And from this I deduce that the secret to success in the world of online publishing is to make someone important plug your writing... So you probably don't know anyone important who would plug your writing. Is that the problem?

[Ehndras]

Oh, I have an idea.

I'm going to post the embarrassing excuse for an incomplete short story (and accompanying annotations made gradually over the years) I wrote when I was around 12. As you may have noticed, I've *always* sucked at conversations... ADHD didn't help me keep this on track either. LOL.

Enjoy Grammar-Nazi-Rage, I know I do! (I can barely keep a stable track of what the hell I myself wrote in this.)

Spoiler: Desolatus (click to show/hide)

Hold! We’ll need to scout and replenish our supplies; set up camp for tonight, this is as good as it’ll get,” I bark to my men as I glance around me, a seemingly limitless expanse of weathered stone and grayish-black soil meeting my gaze; greeted only by the howling wind, low and bestial, as the sun sets in a purple atmospheric haze…

All around me, a withered patch of blood-red roses grows wild, steadily overtaking the faded dirt road carved across these lands; as brooding shadows of decadent empires hide the dust-ridden memories of a people long-deceased – the Remnants. Our name for the relics of a dead age, where man once walked through lush fields, bathed in amber, and the pleasant scent of warm summer days…

Naught but a figment of my imagination now; fleeting images of a forgotten civilization, before the bombs came and plunged our world into this apocalyptic abyss we call ‘home’.

Now, all I see are moonless shadows… My eyes rendered useless by impenetrable darkness, nothing except the deathly odor of decay upon the face of the scarred wastelands.

Battered ruins blackened by time, the sullen landscape rising in the North, yet asleep… A tainted reflection in fetid pools of black, shimmering waters infested by the echoes of the damned, crying out in agony; for justice, mercy, and retribution, their haunting voices coming together as one – a symphony of sorrow and deceit sown by the seeds of humanity.

(Scene II – A Step Into The Past)

The moments drip by in solemn waves, as my men and I unpack our meager belongings, searching the area for drinkable water within the perimeter of our modest encampment. I see the layers of grime and dust coating their arms and foreheads, hardened features partially hidden away, except for their eyes; clouded pupils barely noticeable through their gas masks.

As I look upon their battle-forged expressions and half-scowls, I do not simply see twelve men… I see the essence of humanity; perseverance in the face of relentless difficulty, reflected in their tattered garb and up-cast eyes.

The different faces and colors reflecting a people who, in a time where schism meant death, banded together to form a new nation; born from the ashes of a world ground to dust by nuclear annihilation.

That nation, though, is still but a dream in the hearts of soldiers and citizens, fighting for survival within these forsaken deserts where naught yet lives.

At least, nothing like the beasts that resided here long, long ago…

(Commander’s Words: Faded Horizons)

Fading back into consciousness, I call my men to attention; returning their salutes with one of my own, fluid and automatic, from years of rigid training under the banner of Dawn Regiment. We are the foremost specialists on Infiltration & Scouting of the Three Lands, always the first to enter the line of fire and explore uncharted corners of the wastes… Needless to say, our new recruits don’t survive for very long.

Staring into the eager eyes of each of my men, I open my mouth to speak; Not of scouting, or gathering supplies, but of our true purpose here within the barren expanse. Raising my worn but well-maintained M-4 into the air, I gesture out towards a land that once held nothing except death itself; speaking not as their commanding officer, but as the young, inexperienced poet who joined their ranks nine long years ago.

“Gone are slithering serpents and winged hunters, their venomous fangs and sharpened talons unable to shield them from the ensuing blasts of nuclear holocaust; their irradiated corpses lost to that cleansing flame which rid our world of weakness and regret.

But we, Humanity, yet stand; upon shattered mountaintops and pitted valleys – all that remains of a land once lit by the dawn’s early light…”

Turning to behold the decadent splendor of the North’s fallen cities, far along the fading horizon, I allow a slight smile to brighten my face, my emerald eyes glowing alike bonfire’s flame.

“No longer shall we hide in caverns and blackened structures – the time has come for Humanity to rise above the sorrow of our loss, carving an empire from fallow lands in an age of darkness and despair…

We must make a stand, or be lost to the wastes; naught more than a forsaken blemish – rising like a bat out of hell, and falling gracelessly, not unlike these very ruins which remind us of a time long-since lost.”

Seeing the prideful gazes of my men, I glance towards the North once more, then briskly walk off towards my quarters; my own tent-shelter facing the central campfire, unmarked and patched up, just like those of my comrades. At all times, two men patrol the perimeter of our camp, while a third guards the tents, in two-hour shifts to ensure none succumb to the effects of exhaustion.

“Ahh…” Sighing contentedly, I unlace my combat boots after a long afternoon of trekking, finally able to get a bit of rest, and hopefully gather a few precious moments of sleep. As my eyelids become heavy, I barely notice a pair of glowing objects in the distance – And then I am gone, fallen deep into a world of mysterious dreams, the same meaningful dreams that have plagued me ceaselessly for many a night.

Chapter III – Nightmare Sequence: Scene V – Shadows of the Past)

Those eyes… The many glowing eyes we saw in the cratered clearing, those were not human eyes; the way their blade-like claws sliced through human tissue like a scythe through ripe grain, their impossible agility and surprising strength – chaotic movements and grotesque features clearly marking them as something wholly alien.

Blowing a circular cloud of smoke from his lips, Major Tod straightens his leather chair, snuffs his cigar out, and looks at me intently. Allowing his grin to fade, he continues to brief me on the little-known and seldom understood history of the Ach’remoc; an ancient enemy reborn through modern technology, and fueled by the crimson tide that ebbs and flows through our hearts.

“It is difficult to understand the nature of these advanced creatures, after we’ve seen them bring nothing but swift death to our ranks…” He “Any scientist or scholar can tell you though; as wildly rabid they may seem, they are superior hunters of surprising intellect, unlike anything we’ve ever known.”

Spitting into his cup of downed whiskey, the Major grimaces – closing his eyes and rubbing his temples, before proceeding to drink straight from the bottle.

“The product of ‘failed’ genetic engineering – our government’s attempt at the creation of a new type of soldier, they were designed to overpower and outsmart their human counterparts in every possible situation. Luckily for us, there’s something missing – and they’re tearing through every damn military base and research facility from here to South America in their search for it.”

Gesturing towards the map behind him, where our various Command Posts and forts are highlighted; each a rally point for our armed forces, as well as a haven for civilian refugees.

“On the other hand, we have absolutely no idea what it is these creatures are searching for. Whatever it may be, we’ve got to find it and protect it. Our scouts have tracked the organization who must be holding this ‘cure’, as they call it. Of the seven scientists who worked on Project EVE, only four remain alive. They’ve fled into the Colorado Rockies, perhaps in the hope of setting up shop within the Cheyenne Mountain Complex, one of the only military installations to survive this nuclear hellhole.”

Handing me a folder stuffed tactical maps and gathered intel, Major Tod leaves his chair and rises to a towering height of six-foot four; though past his prime, muscular arms give testament to a lifetime of strenuous physical activity, barely put to a halt by an injured back and the lingering pain of gnawing arthritis.

“Armed with an adamant skeletal structure, reinforced with titanium alloy and capable of withstanding crushing explosive blows, they are impossible to take down with small-arms fire, unless you get a lucky shot right through an eye. Their skulls are impenetrable, so the only other way to shut them down is to sever their spinal cord… And that, Private, is damn har- what the hell? Oh, shit!”

“Sergeant, Sergeant Ehndras, wake up! Wake up Serg-”

In a mere moment, the Major’s voice dies out, his face replaced by that of the camp’s guard, Johann. Uttering obscenities, I hear him calling to me urgently – and then a sickening crack shatters the disturbing silence. I shake my head and exhale heavily at the acrid stench of decaying flesh, glancing outwards in time to spy a pair of glowing green eyes, like flames playing off of a polished emerald, watching me from the opening of my tent beside the campfire.

Unprepared for the ensuing battle, I utter one word as the Huntress steps into my shelter and growls, spitting drops of fresh blood and putrid saliva all over me…

“Fuck.”

(Chapter IV – First Encounter: Scene VI – The F.E.V.E.R.)

The sight of these distorted monstrosities feasting upon the guard’s crimson-specked flesh quickly hailed a burst of automatic fire from within one of the tents – though it came nowhere near downing its desired target. As she raked her claws along the wall, easily tearing through the rough canvas like a blade through silk, and advanced towards me, I pulled my pistol from beneath the cot and aimed it at her chest. Crouching beside my cot in a firing position, I flicked the safety off and sighted across the barrel of my pistol just as a lone shotgun blast echoed through the camp, and the Huntresses body crumpled forward.

In a moment, three of my men are standing before the opening of my tent, stepping over two corpses with their weapons in hand, checking for signs of more silent intruders. Thrusting his blade into the Huntress, Baelik ensures that she is dead – severing her spine at the neck with one quick motion. Rising from the ground, I stride towards the entrance and into the open air of the camp, preparing to take count of my remaining men…

Spotting a group of ten or more Hunters in the distance, I flex my grip on the pistol in my left hand when I see the lone Harvester standing back behind the Hunters; a terrifying beast to behold, and much deadlier than even the strongest Hunters…

And in the darkness of the night, humanity must face its greatest fear; the unsettling prospect of traveling far, far down the food chain – and into the grasping claws of blood-lusting Ach’remoc spawn.

———————————

Spoiler: Desolation Rough Timeline (click to show/hide)

Throughout our kind’s history, we have never been alone. Beneath the lingering shadows of the past, we have risen, with pride and power, from the darkness.

Aliens colonized, explored, interacted, and integrated themselves into our world, species, culture, and religion.

These aliens were made up of different factions & races, each with their own particular culture, and goals.

These aliens were not always peaceful towards Humankind, nor towards each other.

For the most part, these aliens have removed themselves, or been removed, from our world.

Select traces of these beings remain, though very rare, difficult to understand, and highly complex in their nature.

Their existence has altered our very species in every possible way, technologically, spiritually, culturally, and even physically.

Our own attempts to engineer life, to control and modify natural patterns of climate and geology, to cultivate and shape the land, and to understand our world in its entirely, pale in a shallow, lifeless comparison towards their abilities and feats.

Artifacts remain on this world, pointing towards their existence and their actions.

We have attempted to understand these beings, but our knowledge is vague and fragmented.

We have attempted to contact them, but they’ve rarely, if ever, responded in an intelligible manner, and on a large-scale.

Our moon is believed to hold alien bases, just as other locations on our world are believed to hold ships and outposts underwater or underground, deep in volcanos, mountains, beneath lakes, and such.

We have taken traces of alien DNA and bioengineered artificial creatures, living tools and weapons, as well as genetically enhanced human beings.

At first, these modified beings are physically parallel to humans, with only chemical and genetic differences.

With extended modification, these beings slowly change into something entirely alien to human beings…

Over time, a rift is created between humans and the bioengineered beings, which leads to cultural, religious, societal and military factioning.

This racial rift comes to its apex when humans and these beings, now called the Ach’remoc – after the original race of aliens they were engineered to resemble, become hostile towards one another.

This hostility becomes greater when a number of companies and governments fell under the control of violent Ach’remoc dedicated to overcoming human dominance.

The hostility between Humankind and the Ach’remoc reaches its breaking point when Human and Ach’remoc-controlled nations go to war, sparking the beginning of the third World War.

And finally, the Ach’remoc’s true intentions come to light – as they make clear their intentions to enslave the human species, bringing us to our knees once and for all.

It is not understood how these events progressed, but soon…

Mankind is brought to the brink of annihilation, when nuclear war erupts between the nations of the world.

In moments, the world goes dark, as thousands of years of Human progress comes to a complete, grinding halt…

And the flames of nuclear holocaust scar the very foundations of our forsaken world.

Though a large portion of living beings are killed in the blasts and the ensuing chaos, humankind and the ach’remoc yet remain.

In the dark times which follow, the surviving humans are hunted by the Ach’remoc

Now, a new generation of Humanbeings is rising to fight the lingering Ach’remoc threat.

As their Hunters comb through human settlements and ruined cities, our people, though shattered, come together to fight for their lives.

This is the story of a group of American survivors who will bring the fight from the wastes of North America, to the decadent cities dominated by Ach’remoc lords and supported by the enslaved remnants of the American people…

Their difficult road shall bring them across the North American continent to Canada, across the ocean to England, and even to Brazil.

They shall unite the different human factions, and even befriend an enemy in their fight towards freedom.

And, most surprisingly of all, they shall uncover a truth which shall change their very perception of the world, its history, and mankind itself.

And hopefully, in time they shall beat back the waves of blood-lusting beasts and ultra-intelligent monsters, and carve a haven in which mankind may once again survive, and flourish.

The road ahead shall be harsh – paved in blood and bone.

But we shall fight. We shall push forward. And we shall survive.

But will you? Only time may tell…

This is the story of an unfortunate young man, thrust from a peaceful life on the fringes of human settlement, and into the hellish claws of Ach’remoc enslavement.

His life shall be overcome by suffering, but his pain shall make him indestructible.

And, once he escapes the dominion of the Ach’remoc, all hell will break loose.

——————————-

Spoiler: Random Lore (click to show/hide)

The Nation of Desolatus:

Desolation~

The unlikely Trinity:

The Chosen Order: Religion – Those who believe that the gods brought nuclear war upon Humanity as a cleansing, in order to rid our world of Man’s corruption; They believe that when they have fulfilled the wishes of the gods, they shall rise and join them as ascended beings. They shun what they consider to be Pre-War decadence, and embrace a more nomadic lifestyle. Though most members of the Chosen Order are pacifists, a select few hold the unique position of Paladin; trained in the art of combat, they are charged with enforcing the laws and safety of the Order. Their primary settlement, which they call the Sanctum, is home to the Order’s holy leaders. (Members: Healers, farmers, and scholars)

The Pre-born Society: Culture – Citizens who believe that Pre-War society should be resurrected and embrace the Remnant lifestyle as their own, building their homes in the hollowed shells of fallen cities. They hoard everything pertaining to Pre-War culture; from art and literature, to ‘useless’ things like garden accessories.

The Mechanist Collective: Technology – This group of scholars and soldiers are dedicated to the study, requisition, and development of technology, both human and alien. They comb the wastes for forgotten or lost gadgets in order to further their own advancements in combat and civil technology. If it’s mechanical, lights up or goes boom, they either own it or want it dearly. (Studying alien technology, acquiring alien weaponry and equipment, and Ach’remoc experimental alteration technology)

Factions:

Reaper Clan: Crime – This group of outlaws specialize in kidnapping, murder, extortion, narcotics, and theft. From roving bands of thieves to lawless settlements where anything goes, the Reapers are where you’ll find all the criminals, murderers and thieves.

The Merchants Union: Trade/Services – In every nation, there are those intrepid few that venture into the unknown in search of new, useful materials, objects, and techniques for improving daily life; for a price, of course. For enough money, they’ll do virtually anything. It is through the Merchants Union – Recon, Demolition, Excavation & Retrieval department, nicknamed the M.U.R.D.E.R. Squad for their infamous lack of moral inhibitions, that a citizen requests and obtains civil and military contracts for the various services they offer. (Storyline: Corrupt Merchants selling slaves to the Ach’remoc, weapons and equipment to Reapers, stealing Mechanist technology, selling intel, etc)

The Ach’remoc Dominion: Enemy – Genetically-altered super soldiers who’ve been mutated beyond the limitations of humanity. Born from the the alien civilization whose name they share, these highly intelligent, agile, and powerful beings have claimed sovereignty over Earth; they hunt, enslave, and consume any humans they come upon, usually in an ultra-violent manner.

“The Ach’remoc are like a plague of locusts; feral, pissed-off, man-eating locusts that’ll devour your organs and harvest your blood for sustenance. Have you ever seen their newborn? Now that’s something you don’t want to experience. Those little cannibals will claw themselves from the womb and consume anything in their path for the next twenty-four hours, including their own mothers and siblings. I don’t suggest being anywhere near an Ach’remoc nursery when the females start howling in excruciating pain, that tends to mark the arrival of the baby Cannibastards.”

Though it is commonly believed that being bitten or clawed by the Ach’remoc will transfer their ‘infection’ to a human host, this is not true. Ach’remoc creation occurs only through birth from Ach’remoc parents, or the same genetic alteration that created the first of the species. However, there have been reports, though scarce, of bound humans being led into hidden tunnel systems by the Ach’remoc. It is rumored that the Ach’remoc continue to genetically alter themselves in order to attain ‘perfection’; perhaps they’re doing the same to the humans they capture?

The Seven Scientists: The Creators – Named after its seven founding members, this organization was in charge of Pre-War research towards the creation of the Ach’remoc, as well as the actual experimentation which they resulted from. It is believed that a percentage of Ach’remoc genetic code was kept hidden and never added to the experimental super soldiers. When their lack of control and utter abhorrence of humanity became apparent, members of the SS removed the final stages of the experiment, preventing the soldiers from realizing their true potential, and fully shedding all traces of humanity.

“…The initial experiments were simple, but they exceeded all possible expectations. When we implanted the alien DNA into human subjects, we assumed their bodies would reject it, but… Against all logic, the alien DNA combined perfectly with the subjects’ genetic code. This genetic reprogramming was not without its glitches though; a list of intriguing side-effects came to light, among which rapid necrosis and agonizing death were included. On a genetic level though, the recombination succeeded entirely. When observing this recombination firsthand, it almost seemed as if the alien DNA was consuming, as opposed to combining with the human DNA… Oddities aside, our initial experiments paved the way towards a vast web of advancements in the field of Genetics, leading to more intricate, complex, and potentially dangerous technology and techniques for inducing genetic alterations in human subjects.” (A fragmented account of the original FEVER experiments.)

——————————

Spoiler: Fun Lore Ideas (click to show/hide)

It began with a serum that hardened a soldier’s bones and skin, made their bodies absorb nutrients more efficiently, raised their oxygen intake, etc.

Over time, their bodies began to change… Some would call it degeneration, but others might call it… Evolution.

With their new found power, they served as super-powered warriors, taking hits that would cripple a man for life, and marching through gunfire as if it were confetti…

That was just the beginning.

As their bodies changed, so did their minds. Over time, regular humans became afraid of these super-beings, taller, stronger, and seemingly more intelligent than most humans could ever wish to be.

But oh, they had no idea just how true that was.

With the rapid cerebral expansion and corporeal augmentation offered by controlled genetic modification, the Forced Evolution – Variant Expansion and Regeneration project, just about every soldier wished to be experimented upon. Nicknamed F.E.V.E.R. for the near-lethal incubation period in which a subject’s bodily functions go into overdrive, this experimentation was deemed successful, but only after losing many thousands of lives during ‘volunteer testing’, as well as ‘unrecorded’ failures, branching projects, and genetic horrors.

(Alternately, it is called EVE – Experimental Variant Evolution, as it is called by non-military personnel)

Unbeknown to them, Project EVE would tear from their willing hands the only thing that linked them to their dwindling humanity… A DNA sequence who’s structure holds the key to thousands of years of natural evolution, compressed into an quick injection of oddly glowing fluid into their spine, heart, and brain. This material would tear the very bonds that hold their DNA together, altering the structure, recombining pairs into fresh new strands, and hopefully, if it didn’t induce instantaneous death or rapid necrosis, they would become a new breed of super-soldier; the new masters of a volatile world where those with raw power and spreading influence held the reigns of society…

Sorry if it sucks, I’m writing this as I go.

Hahah yeah.

Basically, my story is about a race of genetically modified super-soldiers that breed into Humanity, eventually take over aspects of world-government, and strive to enslave their weaker counterparts.

As they begin to degenerate and fall into madness, humanity strikes back – and in the ensuing chaos – nuclear holocaust.

As humanity turned to ash, technology became useless, and civilization fell in a day, the super-race knew that their advanced structures would protect them…

Fortunately, they’re nowhere as strong as they thought. Thrown around like a bunch of weighted dummies, many of them were destroyed, but a few still remained.

Being the roach-like bastards we are, we banded together, fought back, procreated, spread out, and persevered, while they hammered at us and took us one by one.

The higher-caste leaders retained their sanity and used their seemingly uncontrollable drones to hunt humans down, combing the wastes for any signs of life…

Why? Because being super-powerful is fucking HARD.

Before the war, it was as easy as purchasing a big meal at specified EDEN rest-spots, which serviced the super-soldiers with a diet that far-surpassed the simplicity of pork, potatoes and rice.

After the war, there were no restocking EDEN locations, supermarkets, or fresh cattle to milk… Only legions and legions of hungry mutants, harvesting humans so that they could survive.

My story is about the rise of the super society of the seven scientists (Seven Scientists, jokingly called the SS, were the developers of the FEVER mutation process), the fall of civilization, the ensuing chaotic hell we were left in, and the story of humanity thereafter.

Oh yeah, Stargate.

Well, being a Stargate fan and all, I’ll have aliens in my story too.

So yeah…

Human’s make mutants, mutants grow strong. Humans fear mutants, create sanctions against them. Mutants feel their, hehe, ‘humanity’ is being threatened, and resent humans.

They grow to hate each other…

And when the mutation spirals out of control, the culmination of this rivalry ends in a nuclear apocalypse, as every nation is annihilated in the flames of war.

Humans survive, and regrow. Mutants surface, and realizing they are starving and dying off quickly, begin to feed on humans…

Enter the cannibastards. Hey, that’s actually pretty damn catchy. Thanks!

Super-soldiers are primarily female.

Any male super-soldiers are 2nd+-gen, meaning they are the product of human and hybrid mating.

Males are shock-troops. Huntresses and Harvesters are the ones humans really have to fear… But no one is worse than the Matriarch.

Every group of them has one, and man is she one TOUGH bitch.

————————————–

Spoiler: Darkseed:Asphyxia story idea predating Desolatus (click to show/hide)

Skyborn were the children of the Parasite God; known as the Darkseed.

They fell from the heavens in a rain of onyx and jet, bathed in an atmospheric blaze, like the blackened tears of a fallen angel. As they crashed down and pierced the earth’s flesh, thin black tendrils began to spread from each Seed, deep into the life-bearing soils of our world.

Over the course of many months, each fallen seed began to sprout into tiny buds which

Slowly they began to asphyxiate all life within the crash sites, as their twisted tendrils destroyed entire ecosystems and strangled their wild inhabitants for the Seed to consume. Brown soil transformed to ashen gray and both stalk and leaf were blackened by the Seed’s plague-like rot.

(1)Flowers bloom, hypnotizing beauty, sickly sweet scent, entranced animals and humans alike

2) Humans discover and harvest for exquisite taste and smell, make plantations.

3) Flowers found to be extremely parasitic and warned that they will destroy other plantlife. Humans ignore warning, continue planting for profit. 4) Begin to create vast plantations of flowers, re-planting fallen Seeds and populating Seed-laden areas. 5)Humans begin to fall under mysterious sickness. Loss of concentration, dizziness, dehydration, fever, Immune system weakens, inner mouth, nails, tongue, skin, eye discoloration, hair loss, blindness, nerve-system failure, necrosis and death. 6) Seeds found to be dangerously radioactive and made of unknown substances(highly complex crystalline form, partially organic). Humans found to be infected with unknown disease, begin to die en masse. Survival chance: 0%. A small number of infected seem to be immune, genetic makeup permanently changed and adapted by infection. Afflicted regions are quarantined, survivors are examined to ensure that infection is not active. Apparently, infection is stabilized within survivors, and functions as a sort of biochemical recycling factory, aiding in waste removal, oxygen intake, nervous reaction, eyesight, cerebral communication, etc. To general populace, all infected are declared dead. Secret experimentation done on survivors, in order to extract source of genetic change. Modified DNA spliced with human genes; human adaptive genetic treatment created. So begins Desolation.)

Ta-daaaaaaaaaa~

An absolute CLUSTERFUCK of confusing ideas that are all practically useless unless I decide to make a precursor novel to my actual space-based Scifi in which the Earth is long-dead due to all this stuff, effectively making years of Lore useless.

[AlStar]

Oh, I have an idea.

I'm going to post the embarrassing excuse for an incomplete short story (and accompanying annotations made gradually over the years) I wrote when I was around 12. As you may have noticed, I've *always* sucked at conversations... ADHD didn't help me keep this on track either. LOL.

Enjoy Grammar-Nazi-Rage, I know I do! (I can barely keep a stable track of what the hell I myself wrote in this.)

 **stuff**

Ta-daaaaaaaaaa~

An absolute CLUSTERFUCK of confusing ideas that are all practically useless unless I decide to make a precursor novel to my actual space-based Scifi in which the Earth is long-dead due to all this stuff, effectively making years of Lore useless.

Did you want any kind of feedback on any of that, or is it just for our reading pleasure?

edit: Ok, I can't help but offer comments, I think it's in my blood or something:

Desolatus - Not GrimDark enough. Needs angels weeping blood over the landscape or something.
(seriously) You overuse the word 'crimson'. Yes, crimson is a cool color, but you can also use red, or many other names in that family.

as brooding shadows of decadent empires hide the dust-ridden memories of a people long-deceased – the Remnants.

This line is both confusing and doesn't really relate to the sentence before it.

...and capable of withstanding crushing explosive blows...

If it's explosive, I don't think it'd be a crushing blow... I mean, I guess there is a crushing component to an explosion, but generally people are more worried about the shrapnel... or, you know, the explosion.
Even more confusing, he's remembering being told how these things are nigh-impossible to kill - "they are impossible to take down with small-arms fire", except for a shot to the eye, or by severing the spine... then he takes one down with a pistol that he "aimed at her chest." Huh?

[Supermikhail]

Hey, concerning insults.

Re Ehndras's revelation: what the fuck? What is this supposed to do for this thread? What is bringing in an outdated piece of work supposed to accomplish? It's a thread for improvement, not any random words. In a math class, would you bring a (wrong) solution to a problem you did several years ago? You know that nobody would be impressed and your teacher wouldn't waste his/her time explaining it because he/she already knows that you can do better. If you think it's so hilarious, by all means post it in general discussion, in "things that made you happy today" or on bash.org.

***

Thank you for your time, and please, continue.

[Fishbreath]

I wonder why it's not a concern for you.

Your words have suddenly connected to something Douglas Adams wrote. He said that there'd be one day magazines publishing e-fiction which would collect good stories. And from this I deduce that the secret to success in the world of online publishing is to make someone important plug your writing... So you probably don't know anyone important who would plug your writing. Is that the problem?

It's a question of realistic expectations, I think-- I wouldn't self-identify as anything better than a mediocre writer even on a good day, and (as you noted*) I don't know anyone to plug my writing.

More than that, though, it's simply vanishingly unlikely that I'll ever make enough money off of writing to make it my day job, and even if I were to happen to beat the odds I think I'd still regard the situation with a sort of cautious suspicion.

*As an aside, there actually are some online-only speculative fiction magazines, so Adams got that one right.

[Supermikhail]

More than that, though, it's simply vanishingly unlikely that I'll ever make enough money off of writing to make it my day job

What about one of part-time jobs? Although I can certainly understand doing what you like and having a perfectly stable source of income besides; and having a somewhat easier process to receive paycheck / pay taxes.

I wonder what your day job is, though (if that's alright to ask).

[Ehndras]

I posted the actual story because I'd like it to be taken apart for what's good and bad. You know, like what's the point of this? The other spoilers I added just in-case someone wants to read up on some Lore.

I still can't do dialogue for absolute shit, I'm at that very same level quite honestly. Also, if you don't want to read it then don't, quite simply. I'll read something someone posts even if I think its utter shit, but maybe that's just me.