Roleplayer Guild - Forum Roleplaying Games

Whatever floats your boat, I'm glad to write stories as well as read them. ^^

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Meh. Give me a minium word limit and give me a topic.

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Oh, I was thinking of you writing what you pleased. But I'd be glad to set requirements.

Hmm....800 word maximum and it being about....Hmmm...The mission John in The Epics was doing up until he found himself in the RP.

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John looked over at the rest of his squad. The SAS was gearing up for the practice run in the kill house, two kilometers to the south of Sydney, Australia. This round, they were to be using live ammunition, and the prime minister along with other officials were coming to play as hostages. They even had real terrorists there, though they didn't have guns. They were free to roam around, but if they touched a hostage they would be burned alive. John loaded his MG36 and his L96; it would be a long, hard, but fun and worth it run. Everyone pulled on their Dragon skin bullet proof vests and their gas masks, then their helmet of choice; bonnie hats, tactical helmets, riot helmets, ballistic helmets, you name it. John chose the bonnie hat. He hefted his MG36 as he walked out to the helicopter pad.

The Comanche helicopter flew over the building as the distraction explosives blasted a few hundred yards away, to drown out the noises. Two thick ropes dropped off both sides, and Team Three poured out of the helicopter. They strapped rappels to the roofs, latched them on to their harnesses, and jumped off the side, walking their way down to the windows. They all had their masks on, and they all had tear gas; they chunked them into the windows, followed by smoke. John pulled down his thermal and night vision goggles, switching thermal on as he breached into the window, the gas and smoke still pouring through the room. He heard similar sounds from the other windows; Team Three was coming. Team Three had been nicknamed the 'Helldogs' because they were crazy; they always did what they weren't supposed to do but got the mission done.

He shot the nearest terrorist, blowing his head in half. He looked around for anymore and checked in with his squad, and they all said they were good. He reloaded his MG36 and met up with everyone at Rally Point Alpha, the library. He cleared it of all the terrorists in there with his team, and went downstairs to meet with Team Two and Team One. They had the first story cleared; that left the third fourth and fifth stories, and the prime minister could be anywhere. He took his Team to the fifth story, Team Two to the fourth and Team One to the third.


Working on part 2 ATM. Thats 399 words.

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He shot the nearest terrorist, blowing his head in half. He looked around for anymore and checked in with his squad, and they all said they were good. He reloaded his MG36 and met up with everyone at Rally Point Alpha, the library. He cleared it of all the terrorists in there with his team, and went downstairs to meet with Team Two and Team One. They had the first story cleared; that left the third fourth and fifth stories, and the prime minister could be anywhere. He took his Team to the fifth story, Team Two to the fourth and Team One to the third.
This floor seemed… different. Not just because there wasn’t a roof and you could see through most of the walls, but because this place just… felt wrong. He knew that feeling; fear. He turned to his troops to see a terrorist behind them unload with an Ak47, taking down two squad members by shots to the head. Derrick jumped into a nearby room which gave not much cover, because the wall had huge holes in it. Bullets flew past him through the wood, stopped for the man to reload, then began again. Why isn’t anyone else shooting? Then it struck him; they were all dead. This had turned from a practice mission to a death match between him and a terrorist. When the bullets stopped, they restarted almost instantaneously. There’s more! He thought as he peeped out a hole to be greeted by a 7.92mm bullet go sailing past his head, millimeters away. He stuck his gun out and unloaded, blindfiring. He heard a thud and knew he had hit one terrorist, at least. There was more than two now; there was ten, or more. They filled the hall as they stalked toward him. He pulled his last tear gas grenade out and chunked it. It dispersed its poisons into the terrorists, causing their eyes to water and itch and their throats to itch as well. They dropped their guns as they ran to get out of the gas. He leaned out and unloaded on them, dropping them to the ground with thuds. He heard gunfire from the levels below, and knew the terrorists had attacked downstairs as well. He heard more footsteps and ran to where he thought the prime minister was; he had known this was a bad idea, to bring them out. The prime minister and the officials lay dead on the floor, gun wounds to the head. He backed up in horror to hit someone that was walking down the hall. He turned and shot, not knowing who it was. His eyes opened wide when he realized it was another official. Oh, shit. He thought, dragging the body into the room with the rest. He ran downstairs as fast as he could, hefting his gun and expecting more terrorists; what he found was Hell.
Two days later, after recruiting new members for all three teams, he was practicing with his new squad. They seemed fresh out of boot camp. He planted a breaching charge on the wooden door. This was another practice run. “Now!” He yelled, and the door imploded towards the inside. He turned and put one foot in-

833 words.

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Purty good except going past the limit.

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You said minimum of 800, not maximum.

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Ummm..Where?

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Chapter 1—“Chapter 1”

“Wake him up yourself!” Shouted an exasperated voice from the hallway, rousing Maro none too softly. He sighed as he listened to his parents arguing again. His mother, the one who’s voice had awoken him, angry at his father. Maro knew well that she had a good reason to be. While he may have only been 12, he had been able to deduce the problems going on with his parents. His dad, working shockingly late and yet never seeming to get overtime pay. His mother, attempting to keep her two jobs and still trying to take care of her debilitating father.

“I’m awake!” Maro shouted at the top of his lungs, grasping at hope it’d stop the fighting just long enough for his to escape the house which was more so a battle ground then anything else. Hastily he closed his Notebook of Loose leaf paper and shoved it into a simple, Navy Blue messenger bag he slung to the back of his back. Getting his sneakers on and fixing his hair, Maro grabbed his cell phone and rushed to the front door of his house without stopping to talking to his parents. Knowing it’d ensue war for the day between his Mom and Dad.

“Hey! What up, Joe?” Maro called out to his brother not too far from him, slowing down his pace he went up to Joe. “Mom and Dad at it again?” He asked with sympathy as he patted Maro on the back.

“Forget that, I have an amazing new story in the works.” He pushed the matter away as he opened the bag strapped to his back and pulled out the Writing Note book. “I’ll buy you breakfast if you read it.”

“You’d better.” Joe said, throwing his arm around Maro’s shoulder and walking with him. “No offense, Maro, but you seriously need to give up on those Adventure Quest stories.”

Maro nodded in agreement. “Believe me, I did, as soon as I wrote the first line of this…” he said, waving the binder in Joe’s face.

“Does ‘this’ have a title.” He asked.

“I call it… ‘Apathy’,” Maro told, the name jumping into his mind the same exact way the words had done just hours ago early in the morning. “Just you wait, you’ll see alright.”

Joe laughed lightly as he and his brother stopped at the corner. “Let’s hope so.” They crossed the street and entered Dunkin Donuts, the bell above the entrance as Joe walked straight to the counter. “I’ll take a plain bagel with cream cheese, a strawberry frosted donut, and…a bottle of Diet Pepsi.” He looked to Maro. “Getting anything?”

“A discount, I hope.” He answered sarcastically. “I’ll have a Bagel with Seed Buns and Garlic Cream Cheese.” The Cashier nodded and rang up the sale. The price of $17.40 appeared on the black screen. Grudgingly he gave a twenty to the Cashier, receiving the food and money he sat down where Joe sat.

Joe ruffled Maro’s thick Blond hair, just to annoy him, and chuckled as Maro snapped his head away. “All right, I’ll read it. I did promise after all.” Joe stated as he slowly read the opening line, his eyes lighting up as he read. Maro opened surprised by his reaction could feel a sense of accomplishment. “You do have food, you know.” He said to Joe. In response he turned his head to the presence of food, and raised his head in a state of shock. “So? Is it that bad?” Maro asked nervously.

“Who are you and what did you do with my brother?”

The Author raised an eyebrow. “That good?”

Joe opened his bottle of Pepsi. “How ever good you think it is, it’s better.”

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I just found this on YWS!

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