jennifer lost the war

A Bunch of Criminals

Iraltiphos listened intently as Jupiter told him his name in his native tongue, which took Iral completely by surprise, as it was simply a series of sounds that was almost like music. Naturally, it would have been impossible for him to pronounce. It just wasn't practical. He was a tad disappointed and felt as though he should have been prepared for that to happen, but he had spent his entire life without any contact with creatures from other planets until he had been sent to this prison. He had no conception of what language was like on other planets. Although his facial expression remained in the seemingly permanent grimace that was generally the default, he was somewhat moved and appreciated that he revealed his true name, despite knowing that he'd never be able to address him in that way.

Jupiter motioned to turn the translator back on and Iral's eyes darted from his monstrous claws to his face, clearly unaccustomed to and disapproving of being touched, but after all the beatings his received so far, he was at least numb to it by now. The creature explained his reasoning for insisting on being called Jupiter and Iral respected it. "Jupiter it is," he replied flatly. "I suppose it won't matter right? After we're out of here. You'll return to your planet and never have to be called Jupiter again," he continued. For the first time in the prison he felt at ease and with a clear head. He felt nothing but rage since sometime before arriving to the prison and was rendered incapable of speaking for days before meeting Jupiter. Most of that was released now and he could clearly see that this creature was more than willing to cooperate, despite the trouble he had given him so far. He was willing to bet nobody else in the entire prison would have been so forgiving or tolerant. Even on his home planet most people hated him. They would all say his ego was too big. And they'd all be correct.

"Well, for the same reason I don't want to be called 'Phos'," he said after several moments of silence, being half genuine and half wanting to continue being hard to work with as was his nature. "Let's be fair. I call you by your planet and you call me by mine. Does 'Vulban' mean something ridiculous that I need to know about?" He continued to think about all the possible prisoners he could have been paired with and still couldn't understand why Jupiter was so particularly tolerant in an environment that was made to break jerks like Iral. "So what in the world did you do to get in here? Maybe you're vicious compared to the rest of your kind, but you don't seem like the type to commit crimes that are worthy of a high security prison such as this one."

The Rising Tide

“Well, I don’t think he had any idea who I was,” Ken replied to Jahho-Pekka’s concern for how security treated him, despite his reputation in the MMA sport. “Not that I would have expected special treatment, as nice as it is, but most of the people living here are of an older generation. Not only is my fan-base mostly in America, but they’re also much younger. Japan still has a long way to go in convincing younger people to live here. The older folk here have probably already lived here when they were children. Their parents decided to move elsewhere and after the tragedy they made the decision to return,” he explained.

He couldn’t help but smile and occasionally laugh awkwardly toward the attention the journalist was giving him. It had been years since he had somebody act as excited as this man did to see him. The man introduced himself and explained that he was a photographer, with an obvious passion for Kendo and the country in general. Ken’s face demonstrated visible and genuine concern when he mentioned the rumors of his retirement.

“Well I hope they’re not too crazy,” he replied, with an awkward laugh, trying to remember what his official statement was when he retired. “I know it’s kind of vague, but I meant it when I said I was leaving the sport to spend more time training. That’s quite literally all I’ve been doing all this time. You see, I’ve met this man who has been a great sparring partner and I’ve just come to the conclusion that fighting in MMA tournaments will never compare to what I could learn from him,” he explained. And now he’s gone, he thought to himself, trying to hide his grief. “I guess what’s fueling the rumors is the question of: what am I training for? And… I don’t really know the answer to that myself. For me, fighting has always been more than something I did for money, winning or fame. It’s just a part of me now.”

Jahho-Pekka told him about his wife and children once they had come into view, beginning to quicken his pace to meet up with them. Ken remained at his own pace and caught a glimpse of something in the sky. It disappeared into the clouds as soon as his eyes lifted up for a moment. Hawks were certainly native to the area, but he could have sworn it to be bigger. He wasn’t too sure if hawks flew that high either. He smiled at the kids and to his wife once he got close, offering his hand to her for a handshake. “I’m Ken. Your husband has made me his translator,” he joked, with a grin.

---

“Oh, you have a cat!” Elise said, with a wide, almost childish smile. Dr. Plant quickly changed the subject and her smile only slightly faded, indicating that the cat was still primarily on her mind the entire time she spoke. She had heard the things he was talking about many times before, and it was a genuine concern for her, but no matter how much she tried to start small and slowly work her way up, she could never build up her endurance any higher than it already was. The idea that working with magic was similar to working on your body made some sense to her, but it frustrated her that nothing she did actually worked. Maybe she needed the equivalent of a fitness trainer for magic.

“I guess my problem is that no matter how much I practice, I’ll always get tired after reaching a certain threshold,” she replied. “So, I have no idea what I’m doing wrong. Maybe I’m just not cut out for this kind of stuff,” she continued. It was a thought that had occurred to her many times before, but she always believed that enough work will yield the results you want. She wasn’t susceptible to giving up. However, she was susceptible to fluffy animals.

“Do you have any other questions?” Dr. Plant asked.

“Yes! What kind of cat do you have? They’re wonderful outdoorsy creatures, contrary to popular belief. It must be knocking things over because of it being in such a small space,” she said, getting up from the couch. “You didn’t need to lock it in there for me; I’m not allergic to cats or anything. In fact, I’m great with cats,” she continued, beginning to make her way to the door that hid the creature. “What’s its name? I’d love to meet him… or her!” she said, not really wanting to open the door without his consent, but couldn’t think of any reason why he wouldn’t want the cat running around knowing that she didn’t have a problem with it. She put her hand on the knob and turned.

---

“Elysia,” Gilgamesh repeated, “I’m Gilgamesh.” He noticed a clenched fist before she began walking toward the military jeep, and the tone of her voice certainly didn’t sound particularly welcoming. “Indeed,” he replied to her assumption that they should speak privately. “No military on the planet would take kindly to the knowledge of a being from another planet coming here. Myself and my five men, on the other hand, answer only to one individual and no government. We only have one mission and that is to flush out and kill poets. Nobody needs to know you exist,” he explained, getting into the back of the jeep while one of his soldiers drove.

“You seem agitated. Was it my words? To be fair, yours weren’t much better, but my skin isn’t so easily penetrated. As a soldier, I would hope yours is the same?” he said, attempting to cool her down before addressing anything else. “I don’t know what those children were, but they weren’t poets. Far too young to do what they did. If poets are what you seek, pursuing them is a no go,” he explained. “Just so you know why I let them go.”

“But first thing’s first. It’s not every day you get to meet an alien, let alone one that shares a disdain for poets—how did you get here and why?” he asked as they drove further downtown, toward a location they were temporarily calling their base of operations. “I know that may be sensitive information and we’ve only just met, but I think we can help each other and I’ll need to know some basic things. You can ask me anything you’d like about me and how we do things here. Except the mask,” he said, lifting his index finger to point upward. “Maybe if we’re good friends one day, we’ll talk about the mask.” Even when he joked, he spoke atonally. “If you don’t trust me or have any interest in the possibility of helping each other, just say the word and we’ll drop you off and no one will know we met. As long as you don’t interfere with our killing of poets, we shouldn’t ever have a problem in the future.”

The Rising Tide

My post is halfway done. I'll have it up in the afternoon.

A Bunch of Criminals

"My name translates to space whale diarrhea," Iral said, half laughing with his head leaning back so that he was staring at the ceiling. "Wonderful," he continued, as though speaking to a higher being. He began to cringe upon hearing what the literal translation to his name was. "The one who dances beneath the...man I've never heard of a girlier name. Maybe 'Tinker Bell' would suit you," he said with a sigh. He despised the fact that Jupiter changed his name to conform, but with the problem of not speaking the same language and a translator that butchers names, there wasn't all that much anybody could do. Surely he wasn't going to learn his language or him learn his. None of this even matters: space whales exist and my name translates to refer to their feces, Iral thought, as though he had come to a devastating revelation.

"No, man, what's your problem? You don't want to be called 'Tinker Bell'. We refer to people in that way because we think they're cowards. Why are you so quick to change your name?" he said in frustration. He sighed again. "There's no way to change the settings on that crap to make it so that it ignores our names? Names have meaning, but you're not supposed to translate them. They're... they're names. They transcend language. Don't your kind take any pride in their names? Do you not live with those names for the rest of your lives? Where I'm from, no two people have the same name on the entire planet. This is not to say that we all think we're special, it is just accepting the fact that no two beings are the same, no matter the circumstances. My people are extremely in-tune with our life energy and we all inherit the ability to detect and feel the presence of others. No two presences are the same. And when a new presence is born and their parents feel it for the first time, they spend a lot of time giving that presence a name. Most of us derive names from our ancient language that was abandoned over the course of our evolution. 'Iral' is derived from a word that used to mean 'distant'. 'Phos' from a name that used to mean 'promise'." Iral shrugged. "Who knows? But that's my name. I don't know why I just told you all that. Wait, yes I do. I asked you your name and you told me something that some cunts call you that you decided to roll with. Then you want to let me call you 'Tinker Bell'. Do your people even refer to your planet as 'Jupiter'? Do you know who Jupiter actually is? He's a fictional character some ancient people of Terrans, called Romans, invented because they didn't understand why their planet fucking rains. And do you know who Romans are? A bunch of idiots and cowards. They fought with sticks and stones so that they could get more sticks and stones. And they had the audacity to name your planet when they couldn't ever hope of getting to or living on. If you can remove or turn off that damn translator for two seconds then allow me to hear your real name because I'm not fighting with somebody I don't know."

The Rising Tide

Oh...wow okay. I'll have to edit my post later then

A Bunch of Criminals

At first, Iral just kept talking, wanting to finish his tirade and viewing his stopping as being defeated, but after a few moments he simply couldn’t hear himself talking anymore. Jupiter wasn’t saying any words. It was just noise that rendered him completely unable of hearing anything else. People back home would not believe this, he thought to himself as he started laughing his heart out again, despite being unable to hear his own laughter. Although the noise finally stopped, he still couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in his ears for a while, but he managed to say “What the hell was that?!” though he was unsure if he said any of the words correctly.

Jupiter apologized and explained that talking about food gave him an uncontrollable desire to call for a mate. Iral’s grinned widened as he stared at him in disbelief. He considered that maybe he was being sarcastic again, but he believed him. He started laughing. “That’s insane!” he said between laughs, his hearing returning to him and noticing that the noise caused an alarm to go off. “So what’s happening now? Are all the girls invading the station to have you? Why didn’t you think of that sooner?” he said, looking at the hallway that was painted with blinking red emergency lights.

“I was saying…” he continued, his grin disappearing. “That my name is Iral and that’s what you’re going to call me otherwise we’re going to have a hard time getting things done. Understand? The only other thing you can call me by is ‘Master’, if that’s preferable.”

The Rising Tide

Ryver et Rhine said
=P No. They are long gone. Artemis disappeared into the shadows if you recall from my last post. So a shockwave wouldn't have affected them at all. Maybe you could have someone (Gilgamesh or his men) realize that they are gone?

You deleted that post didn't you?

I said a page ago that I needed to hear from everyone, Izkripp.

The Rising Tide

I thought you were going to write that out in a post, so i assumed they're still there. Gilgamesh sent a mini shockwave their way in my last post.

The Rising Tide

So it seems we're kinda grid-locked here. Me and Kirra are waiting on Ryver for an update on the scene with Gilgamesh, but Ryver is waiting for Perry to avoid a double-post right? For the record, I have no idea where Izkripp is, so I may have to take control of her characters if I end up posting as Elise before I hear from her. When do you think you can get a post up, Perry? I have to be honest guys, I'm a little worried about the pace we're going at right now. It was slow before, but now I think it's too slow for comfort. Let's try to pick it up a bit. My original intention was for everybody to post at least once a week. If we could get there, that'd be great.

A Bunch of Criminals

Iral nodded as Jupiter answered his questions, anticipating most of the answers. He was largely disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to reap the rewards of the tournament all by himself. When he was told about the spectators often getting attached to those they cheered for, he grinned. “Oh, they’ll love me,” he commented.

“I do not like ‘Iral’” Jupiter said before telling him his name, which Iral barely paid attention to because his grin immediately faded in response to the other part. He narrowed his eyes and clenched his teeth like an animal about to lash out.

“Hey, hey, don’t get friendly with me,” he replied, speaking quickly and clearly trying to control a temper that was at boiling point, but he failed just a moment later. “I don’t give a fuck what you do or do not like!” he spat with enormous distain. “Your name is ‘Jupiter’, yeah, wow, you really are a fairy, huh? I don’t like that name, though. ‘Tinker Bell’ clearly suits you better. You know what else I don’t like? These chains, this collar, these damn bruises, not being able to use the bathroom when I want, but I still have to deal with that crap, don’t I? I lied when I said most people call me ‘Iral’. I was a soldier, a strategist, an adviser and commander before this. You know who called me ‘Iral’? People I respected, people I was close to. There was literally one person in the whole planet that I took orders from—THAT person called me ‘Iral’. You’re none of those things—you’re less than none of those things. I allowed you to call me something that everybody else had to earn, you ungrateful piece of trash. And what in the hell is ‘Pho’? That sounds like garbage Terrans eat all day and get fat off of. Do I look like something weaklings would eat because it lacks the nutrition to make them half as strong as a bug? Do you eat Terran trash? Is that why it came to mind? ‘I breathe light’ What? You blind people? Is that how you got here—you blinded somebody too much? I bet you were somebody’s jester. I bet somebody would snap their fingers and you would blind somebody that person didn’t like on command, and one day you just misunderstood a command like the trash you are and were sent here because you entire planet is full of stuck-up, spoiled weaklings who never had a reason in their lives to earn anything because they were born with it and when they don’t like something they had the option to simply do what was more comfortable for them instead learning or adjusting, like learning how to pronounce A FUCKING NAME!” Iral yelled at the top of his lungs. By now his over-the-top tirade had caught the attention of any other convicts that could hear it. Some looked on in shock or confusion. Some laughed.

“Iral,” he said, with a fake smile and a fake pleasant tone. “Iral. Just try it. Practice makes perfect, buddy. I called you buddy just now ironically. I actually don’t like you.”