It's no secret that I, Andre LeFarr, was previously writing a story for the infamous furry artist Kkatman (check out her drawings. If you think you can do it without, you know, losing all sanity.)

Warning, however, Kkatman draws sadistic, pornographic artwork. And just like the artwork, any story written about it will be sadistic and pornographic. I am working on a second story, unrelated to this one, which is also sadistic and pornographic.

Additionally, dearest Jacie, I /can/ write non-kinky pornography. I simply choose not to.

Er...

Furries don't count as kinky, do they?

Did more work on it now.


"Theo!" Creon hardly looked up from his work on the racing boat bobbing in the water when he heard one of his fellow house Sirosmastes generals call out the name of the Captain of the Silver Paladins. "Where have you been? We've been waiting for you."

"I was taking care of General Asteri." Theo explained. "And talking to one of the Conjurers."

"Fraternizing with the enemy! He's been fraternizing with the enemy!" Declared a General in the colors of House Aplistia in mock-hysterics, to the amusement of the remainder of the crowd.

Theophilius laughed, "Then court martial me after I win the race."

"We won't be able to," Creon said.

"Why's that?" Asked General Sophronia, one of the female Generals from house Siromastes. Female generals, although they were in the minority, were not unheard of in Atlantis, and Sophronia was one of the more prestigious ones.

"Well, because I'll be winning, of course." Creon said.

"Wait, wait," sounded an Asteri General. "Didn't I see him at the Gatehouse with that conjurer who hit me with that fig at the wedding?"

Theophilius grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, that was the one."

"You DOG!" Exclaimed the Asteri. "You absolute DOG! How did the" he coughed, "'fraternizing' go?"

"Ah-ha!" Sophronia exclaimed, "So it was a lady conjurer, was it?"

"No," declared a General from the Aoratos house, "It was Creon's brother!" The Generals laughed raucously again.

"We didn't do any 'fraternizing'" Theophilius said, "We just talked."

"He got rejected." Said Sophronia.

"I did not!" Theophilius objected loudly.

"Well," Creon asked, "What DID happen?"

"It sounded like a definite maybe." Theophilius answered.

"That's a no." Said Sophronia, knowingly.

"I think it..."

"When a woman says maybe, she means no."

"Well, how would you know?"

"I happen to be an expert on the behaviors of women." Sophronia replied, "It comes from being one."

"Ah. Ah-ha... Right." Theophilius said. There was a short silence. "So, do we get this race started?"

"Well," Sophronia asked, "Creon, you ready to win?"

Creon nodded, getting into the front of the boat.

The race was, technically speaking, not a formal part of the any of the ceremonies. But, simultaneously, it was expected of every one. It was traditional, and Atlanteans held tradition in very high regard. They were held in celebration of... Anything. From victories in the wars with the barbarians, to royal births, the generals of Atlantis celebrated the only way they knew how. By racing around the walls of the island-city in rowboats.

The event had become highly ritualized. The generals were divided into teams, based on house, and drew lots to pick the specific two-person teams. Then, they boarded rowboats, with one general rowing, and one general watching. Once a team was picked, the team members were paired together until one of them retired, and each time a race was held, the general who watched and the general who rowed were switched.

It was Creon's turn to watch as Sophronia rowed. The pair had been working together for a while. They made a good team, although it did tend to work out for the best when Sophronia did the rowing. There were some waves to contend with, splashing over the bow of the small wooden boat.

Creon loved the feeling that he got when he watched. Soph was strong, and even with the waves from the gathering storm, they moved quickly around the walls. They were just rounding the Southern edge of the city, near the aristocratic households, when Creon spotted a female figure, sitting on the high walls. He couldn't make out the details of the woman. But even from his sea-level vantage point, he could recognize that she wore the flowing robes of an Imperial conjurer. But Sophronia was moving them past the wall too quickly. Soon the woman would be out of sight, and Creon wanted to watch her. "Soph, slow down." He said. Sophronia immediately slowed the strokes to a more leisurely pace.

"Rocks around here?" She asked. Despite the depth by the city walls, there were still rocks which could extend far enough to damage even the two-person rowboat.

"Look up there," he said, pointing his finger at the woman on the walls, "Who do you suppose that is?" He asked.

Sophronia shook her head, "I don't know, just some Conjurer, looks like. Now let's go, or we'll lose the race." Creon continued watching, entranced by the conjurer woman on the walls. He watched her stand, stumble, and saw something falling towards the boat.

"SOPH!" He cried out, leaping at Sophronia, pushing her over the side of the boat, as the falling object flew past, knocking a hole in the rowboat. Creon took in a breath as the wall of water enveloped him, along with the stunned Siromastes general.

His head popped up out of the ocean, followed shortly by his cousin. "Creon, you idiot! You, you..." She yelled

"You alright?" He asked her.

"Yes, but..." She started.

"Good." Creon said, diving back under the water, leaving a stunned Sophronia treading water on the surface.

He held his breath, diving as quickly as he could. He didn't know what the woman on the walls had dropped, but he had to get it. He blinked his eyes, his hair flowing in the murky waters. The circular city had been built with attention to detail, and to beauty. Landfills, supports, and other such objects had been built, permitting a perfectly circular shape on an otherwise uncircular island, and the noble section jutted into the ocean. It but it was deep enough that the large Atlantean ships could circle the area, or would have been able to if it weren't for the jutting rocks. He searched the area, trying to see through the waters. He spotted an object, sinking towards the sea bed, and dove down to grab it. His hand closed around the object, a sphere approximately the size of a closed fist. He paused for a second, pleased
with himself, before swimming quickly back to the surface.

He gasped as he broke the water, before looking down at the ball in his hand. It was silver, and beautifully engraved with the crest of the House Rianeo. Creon turned it over in his hands. There were some other markings on it. Probably personal or family identifications… He couldn’t read them.

“What’s that?” Sophronia asked.

Creon examined it for a second. “Looks like a Skepsi-Sfaira.” He concluded. Skepsi-Sfaira, or thought-spheres, were silver balls about the size of a fist which recorded people’s voices. The enchantments used on the balls were powerful, so mostly only the rich houses had them. Generals, Imperial Conjurers, and others of high stature frequently used them to prepare speeches, notes, or presentations on Atlantis’ well-being. “I’ll try to turn it on, maybe we can figure out whose it is.”

“You mean you lost us the race so you could spy on someone’s balls?”

Creon looked angrily at her, before smiling. “It’s your fault.” He said, still examining the Skepsi-Sfaira.

“How’s that?” Sophonia asked.

“You shouldn’t have been listening to me.”


And now I have to go. But I'll edit it in later.

Now, of all the current candidates for president, my favorite is Barack "It's a B, not an S" Obama. But, I'll be honest, I'll vote for anyone. As long as it isn't Mitt Romney. I'm serious about this. I really am. Very, very serious about being anti-Romney.

In fact, I'll compile a list of people I'd rather see as president than Mitt Romney, in order that I would vote for them.

Candidate: Jacie
Age: 15
Party: Republican
Species: Angel, but she won't admit it.
Advantages:  Is my girlfriend, although that's not likely to help in the general elections.
Disadvantages:  Not old enough to run for president, her sister looks like a horse.
Notes: I love you, dear.

Candidate: Mic
Age: 16
Party: Democrat
Species: Human
Advantages: Has some good ideas, when she can get past her self-esteem problems. She's also a really awesome person. B(o)(o)bs (confirmed)
Disadvantages: Personal issues are likely to distract the public's attention. Not old enough to run for president.
Campaign Slogan: Ignore the Hypnotoad. I'm legit.
Notes: She's an awesome person, but her morals are likely to clash with the rest of America's. Will have to choose a more conservative running mate. Personally, I'd like to see Micaela/Jacie '08. Actually, I'd prefer Jacie/Micaela '08. Either way, it would be the best presidency ever.

Candidate: Iraq Hussein Osama
Party: Democrat
Species: Human
Advantages: Young, charismatic, and black. Likely to swing the black vote, and handsome enough to swing the female, bi, and gay vote.
Disadvantages: The name, man. Change the name. If Hillary can change hers, you can change yours.
Notes: May have trouble with the black vote, because he's 'not black enough'.

Candidate: Drip Rat
Age: Unknown
Party: Democrat
Gender: Male
Species: Rat/Physical incarnation of the sin of Lust
Advantages: Imposing stature (six feet tall, several hundred pounds.) Markings around eyes may swing the vital clown vote. Inventor of popular game "Musical Holes" (Reference: Games we play in Hell, Jack story arc), species likely to swing all-important furry vote.
Disadvantages: History of raping and murdering indiscriminately may drive away women voters.
Campaign Slogan: If you fuck with America, I'll fuck with you.
Notes: Nothing sends a message to the enemy quite like raping, torturing, and eventually murdering all their women. He will probably have to choose a woman as his running mate, and not raping, torturing, and then murdering her will be a problem.

Candidate: Ron Paul
Party: Republican
Species: ZOMGZ! RON PAUL IS TEH SUPERAMAN!
Advantages: RON PAUL IS AWESOME! ANYBOYD WHO DENIZ THAT IZ A LAIR!
Disadvantages: RON PAUL HAS NO DISADVATNGES! IT IZ ALL A VAST L3FT W!NG CONSPIRASEE TO SUPR3SS TEH PEEPL!!1111111111
Campaign Slogan: T3h intrawebz candidate
Notes: LOL LYK U GONNA VOT3 SOMEONE ELZ?

Candidate: Central AKA That Angel Who's A Bitch
Party: Independent
Species: Ferret/Angel/Bitch
Advantages:  B(o)(o)bs, invented bureaucracy (unconfirmed), clean criminal record. If she choses Plato (no confirmed relation to the philosopher) as her running mate, his tragic history is likely to draw votes, in spite of the fact that she's a bitch.
Disadvantages: Fictional character from webcomic Jack. Plus, let's face it, she's a bitch.
Campaign Slogan: The candidate for change, within reasonable limits.
Notes: Bitch


Candidate: C'Thulhu
Age: Born before time
Party: Independent
Species: Giant squid thing.
Advantages: Several terms as mayor of R'lyeh. Already has active campaign.
Disadvantages:  Not born in the US. Will have to radio broadcast debates, as his visage will drive viewers to insanity.
Campaign Slogan: Why vote for the lesser evil?
Notes: Ia! Ia! Cthulhu F'Thagn!

Candidate: That duck I saw yesterday
Age: Unknown
Party: Unknown
Advantages: Unknown
Disadvantages: Is a duck
Notes: Very little

Satan:
Age: Over 5000
Party: Republican
Gender: Male
Species: Fallen Angel
Advantages: Has proven skills as an administrator, having been in charge of hell for many years. Has been proven as a negotiator during the Eden incident. Once made a failed campaign for God.
Disadvantages: Punishments in hell could lead to him being painted as "Pro-Torture." May not technically be US citizen
Campaign Slogan: Because the country's gone to hell.
Notes: The Middle East, and everyone else who hates America, has been calling the US "The Great Satan" for a while now. I think it's about time we elected the Devil, and just proved them right.

Candidate: Hillary Clinton
Age: 60
Party: Democrat
Gender: Female
Species: Pod person
Advantages: Two terms in US Senate, Eight years as president First Lady to husband William Jefferson Clinton, b(o)(o)bs (unconfirmed)
Disadvantages: Seen as too calculating. Has a history of voting against video games. Will totally be like that episode of Sliders where she's addressing the nation.
Campaign Slogan: It worked for my husband.
Notes: See Satan

Ella. Ella is a character I have. She is Two-Face's daughter in a Batman RP. She took the name (and fortunately nothing else) from the character of Duela Dent, the Teen Titans character who has claimed to be the daughter of several Batman villains over the years, and is actually (we think) the daughter of Earth-3's Jokester and Three Face. Or, originally she was the daughter of Two-Face and his wife, who abandoned her when he found out she wasn't going to be twins. But whoever Duela is, Ella isn't.  Ella is, in fact, more of the adorable little girl character... Until she does some of the murdering stuff.

To repeat


Not Ella.

Ella

In this section of the Roleplay, Ella is depicted setting a vampire (Don't blame me, not my character) on the man who adopted her.


Ella looked at the sign. "That's it." She said, smiling. "And there's the warehouse!" She said, pointing happily at the front door. Ella walked up to it, tentatively. She didn't know if it had been locked or not... In this part of Gotham, doors were usually locked. But nobody in the criminal element messed with this particular building. Ella pushed the door opened tentatively, revealing the cavernous inside, filled with unmarked crates, inside of which groups of weaponry lay. A few armaments were propped against the walls. A door lead out of the main room, and into the remaining rooms, which had been converted to be the living quarters of Ella and Daddy. The building seemed so much emptier, ever since the large bomb had been exploded in a Gotham cruise ship, which was headed for Korea. Ella skipped through the large room, heading down the corridor into the television room. The fake daddy remained, bound and gagged to the chair. He'd fallen asleep, watching the news report which Daddy had turned on about the man's murdered family.

She shook him awake. "Wake up, daddy." She said, "I want to play a game with you. I brought a new friend to play with... And guess what?" She  asked. "He wants to play hide and seek. You remember hide and seek, right?" She asked. "I always won, because nobody ever finds me." She said, and added, "But I always found you. You're not very good at Hide-and-Seek. So you should get a lot better. Or you won't be able to play anymore." She said, and tore the gag off of not-daddy's mouth. "Do you want to play hide-and-seek?"

=====

Adam Ward was confused. He'd been kidnapped by the girl who was supposed to be his daughter, tied to a chair, and then forced to watch hours of news reports on the death of his family. He had, in short, not had a good day... Or had it been more than that? But now the girl... Ella? That had been her name, right?... Was untying him... And talking about playing games. "No... No." He said, "Ella... Stop this nonsense right now."
 
"That's the wrong answer." Ella said, "Because my friend wants to play, really, really badly. So here are the rules. You can't go into the big room down the hall. I'm going to lock the door. And then, when I say "seek," she said, "you want to have a good hiding place." She advised, "or else you won't be able to play again." Just as his legs were finally untied from the chair, the little girl hopped off.

He heard a door slam shut... What was this about a game? He hadn't liked the way the girl had been talking about 'not playing again'.

He heard a door slam shut in the distance.

"Fangy man?" The girl's voice said over the factory loudspeakers. "The bad man is going to  go hide now. And I'm going to count to twenty. And then you can find him, okay? One," The man started running down the hallway, out towards the exit he'd come through on his way into the building, "two," The door, he had to... No, it was locked. Just like the girl had said, "three," He ran back, turning through a door, "Four," He found himself in a rudimentary kitchen... Perhaps he should hide.  No, there was a window in this room... "Five," No, it was locked... "Six," He searched around for something to open the window with... No... Nothing. It was a mostly empty room. So he had to hide... "Seven," There was only one place in this room he could think of. He ran to the large oven in the corner. "Eight," said the voice over the loudspeaker. He opened it... And threw some of the oven racks on the floor. Now it made an empty box. He'd always advised his kids not to hide in an oven, but perhaps he didn't have a choice. "Nine," He jumped in, crammed himself in. "Ow..." he said, cutting his finger on the way in. "Bored now." Said the girl's voice. "Twenty!"

In the distance, a door unlocked.



For any of those curious, it did not end well for the guy she's playing with.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, tonight starts the seventy-two. I will attempt, in this time, to stay awake for seventy-two hours.


It has started most auspiciously, I tell you. Because, as of this year, I am no longer a Kirby. My love and I have left that place for good. You see, they have lost their way. They are no more than bitchy angry children. And I don't want a part of that.

So farethemwell. I've got better things to do.

Like buy some Red Bull once that store down the street opens up. Or buy new clothing.

Or, maybe, just consider the stars.