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April 24, 2007 at 10:07 pm #50933
Fonk
ParticipantHi! This is a new story featuring my Vanessa Keates character (as seen in these stories: http://www.brawna.org/node/297 and http://www.brawna.org/node/301).
————————————-Vanessa Keates was cold. The 33-year-old woman wore a big black parka over a tight-fitting navy sweater, skin-tight dark blue jeans and a pair of ill-considered training shoes. Of course, nearly all the clothes she bought were a close fit: given her massively muscular body, a little beyond professional female bodybuilder standard, there was no other option. Vanessa had lost count of the number of blouses she’d lost to inadvertent flexing of her big, meaty biceps, or traps, or delts… or even just breathing in too deeply.
The strongwoman never wore a bra these days. Her double G-cup bust barely moved, even when she relaxed her thick pecs, so there was no point. Her nipples were spiking into the wool of the sweater even now, and it was not comfortable. She felt her strong thighs and calves rubbing against the rough denim and wondered again about getting some clothes custom-made. But she didn’t want to draw attention to herself. She sighed into the wintry air, her dissatisfaction escaping in wisps on the wind. For the umpteenth time that night, she looked down at the ring on her gloveless hand. It wasn’t an especially beautiful or ornate ring – simply a band with a small (currently) red stone worked into its centre – but it was Vanessa’s biggest secret. It could talk.
A year and a half ago someone had sent the ring to Vanessa in the mail. It had proved to be the trigger to an amazing transformation in herself and her lifestyle. The ‘old’ Vanessa – mousy, five foot two, running to fat – had, over a period of four days, transformed into the ‘new’ Vanessa – confident, five foot six, musclebound – thanks to the amazing powers granted to her by the Ring and some clever decisions on her part. Since then she had been given the role of a Ringbearer, charged with changing lives for the better whenever she could, working in tandem with the Ring.
She trudged a little further down the rank, deserted alley, following the jumbled sets of footprints left in the snow. People had tried to leave their names in the endless whiteness, much to the heroine’s disgust. The Ring had told her that a young girl was going to be raped in these streets unless she intervened. Vanessa drew the hood of her coat tightly around her face, trying to keep the random flurries of snow out, wearing a grim expression. No-one was ever going to suffer that horror in her city if she could help it.
"Ring!" she thought, as she reached a crossroads. "Where now?" The Ring answered her in its robotic monotone: "Turn right here and continue for two hundred yards." Vanessa grinned. "You’re kind of like a superhero’s sat-nav," she thought. The Ring did not reply. It had been cold for months now, unnaturally so, all over the world. What should have been April showers were April snow showers, and the weathermen were as baffled as everyone else. Some said it was the effects of global warming, but Vanessa had a feeling it was something else. When she asked the Ring about the unusual weather, sure that it had some magical cause, it had replied that it was "localising source". She felt sure that her companion had gone back to working on the problem.
As instructed, the blonde turned right and trudged carefully forward. She could make out figures in the distance: a couple of men were stealthily following a gaggle of six loud girls, all dressed in black longcoats covering unwisely short skirts and sparkly tops. They were obviously drunk. Vanessa rolled her eyes. "To alcohol," she muttered. "The cause of, and solution to, all of life’s problems." Her dark thoughts were interrupted by the sound of retching. The strongwoman looked up sharply: one of the girls, a redhead, was throwing up, leaning one elbow against the wall as her vomit sank unpleasantly into the snow. "Leave her!" cried one of her friends, giggling, stumbling away down the alley with the others. Vanessa’s eyes narrowed.
The two men in between the stricken woman and Vanessa had stopped and were whispering to each other. The Ringbearer stopped too. Later, she decided that the men were not hardened criminals – they were just inexperienced chancers who had spotted an opportunity. She was never able to decide if that made it worse. When the girl’s friends were far enough away not to see, and the redhead herself had emptied her stomach, the pair sauntered up to her. Vanessa moved deeper into the shadows, edging determinedly toward the scene.
The girl, who, now Vanessa could see her a little better, was barely eighteen, realised with a kind of detached terror the trouble she was in as the men bore down on her. They were totally silent as the taller man, built like a rugby player, clamped his gloved right hand down on the teenager’s mouth. The heroine, moving as silently as possible, still heard her muffled scream. She shivered involuntarily and decided to lose the element of surprise. She ran full tilt and dove into the shorter man as he was tearing at the girl’s skirt, knocking him to the floor. She pinned him to the floor and knocked him out with one swift punch.
"What the hell?" the rugby player said, letting the girl go to help his accomplice. The redhead fell, sobbing, to the floor as Vanessa sprang to her feet. The man reached into his pocket, bringing out a flick knife. It glinted dazzlingly as he brandished it at Vanessa. "Back off!" he yelled. "No," she said simply, dodging a clumsy, angry thrust. She dodged and weaved with ease and grace, waiting for the man to get tired or stupid. Within a minute, he had done both. The pattern had repeated itself often enough for the Ringbearer to learn it and, on the fifth attempted stab, she grabbed the blade. Making sure that he was watching, Vanessa, who was a good nine inches shorter than him, folded the knife’s blade back along its hilt. It was the man’s turn to back away.
"Who are you?" he said, peering at her in the dull light. "You don’t want to know," she replied, backing him further down the alley. Her plan came to fruition: he tripped over the fallen form of his friend. Whacking his head hard on the ground, the would-be rapist knocked himself unconscious, lying spread-eagled like the world’s most awkward snow angel. The heroine immediately turned to the intended victim. She was no longer crying but the aftershocks came out in long, theatrically lingering sobs. Vanessa held out her hand toward the redhead, to pull her upright. She hugged the girl close for a second, and then practically pushed her away.
"Call the police," she advised in a business-like manner. "Get these men put away." She turned to go and, as cliché dictated, the girl spoke. "Who are you?" Vanessa answered without turning around. "Just a friend," she called over her shoulder. "Don’t mention me. Tell the cops you overpowered them." With that, she walked away.
* * * * * * * *The strongwoman shivered and stamped her feet. The heating in her office was on the blink again, and that wasn’t the only inconvenience. Her missions were harder in the massive drifts of snow that were drowning the city. She gazed at the stone of the physical ring, watching as it cycled through the colours of the rainbow, trying to find out why the world was descending into an ice age. Vanessa stood up, and stretched. The muscles in her bewitching body writhed and danced as the magnificent woman moved to look out of the window. The whiteness greeted her, just as it had the day before.
Sighing, Vanessa returned to her swivel chair and sifted aimlessly through the pile of work in her in-tray. Over half of the staff at Farrington Enterprises were stuck at home; the Ringbearer was able to make it in as her prodigious strength enabled her to clear the drifts that otherwise blocked the door to her home. "Some gift," she grumbled to herself, thinking of all the tasks she could be doing around her new house. Shaking her head, the blonde decided to throw herself into some work.
Just as Vanessa had got her head around the nuances of the document in front of her, the Ring spoke. In a voice only she could hear, it said: "Done." Scared by the interruption, Vanessa involuntarily threw the papers she was reading into the air. Scowling resignedly as the documents scattered all over her office, she addressed the Ring. "You could give me some warning, you know, like clearing your throat?" "I have no throat to clear, Ringbearer." Vanessa rolled her eyes. Whenever the Ring called her "Ringbearer" it meant it was trying to scold her. Impatient, she ignored it. "What have you found?"
Over the time the Ring had been working with her, Vanessa had learned to read its moods, even though it always spoke in monotone. She could tell when it was being mocking, reproachful, unpleasant, careful, urgent, nice, contrite, cute and keen. This time, though, it was none of those. If anything, she felt it sounded… scared. "We will need help," it announced. There was an uncomfortable pause. "We must go to the French Alps. The source of the magic lies there. I have not pinpointed its exact location, but once I am close I will be able to do so."
There were so many questions in her mind that Vanessa didn’t know where to start. Fortunately, as they communicated telepathically exclusively now, the Ring picked up on all of them. "Yes, the Alps," it began. "Yes, I cannot accurately locate the source. I am confident that, once within a two-mile radius of it, I shall be able to pinpoint it precisely. I do not know how long we will need to be there. I have no emotions and thus cannot appear frightened. We need help because this magic is both very old and very powerful and it would be foolish in the extreme to go in alone. I can call upon the Rings of other Ringbearers, who are doubtless coming to the same conclusions as I am. We must leave as soon as possible. I have an idea about how we can get there. You will have to pick up those documents yourself." Vanessa was dizzy that all her questions had been answered at once. "I’ll finish at lunch today, then," she muttered.
* * * * * * * *Having talked her boss, Ken, into giving her the rest of the day off, Vanessa was at home, packing her things into a large suitcase. A brief trawl on the Internet told her that flying to France was impossible: all flights, domestic and international, had been cancelled due to the heavy snow. The ferries weren’t running either, which left the Eurostar. Unsurprisingly, it was fully booked for the next three months. The Ring had said that was too late, but it had had another idea and Vanessa was not to worry. All the same, she had doubts.
Once she was done, the heroine spoke to the Ring, which was glowing a fierce orange. "OK, level with me. How are we going to get to southern France?" The Ring paused a moment before replying, as if for effect. "You will fly." Vanessa opened her mouth to protest with it, but then she understood. "I won’t grow wings, will I?" "No." The blonde grinned to herself: in all her adventures so far, she had never flown under her own power.
"I sense readiness." Vanessa nodded. She was still wearing her work clothes: a black jacket over a tight-fighting white blouse and long black skirt. The cut of the outfit accentuated the powerful muscles on her five foot six frame without them becoming dominating. "That’s because I am ready," she said, taking her suitcase in her mighty right hand. "Let’s go." "You must first stand outside," the Ring noted. Vanessa locked the door behind her and stepped into a fresh blizzard, the snow already layering up against her front doorstep.
"I hope we’re successful," the strongwoman murmured, holding her left palm out to catch a few flakes as she trod into the garden. The ring glowed custard yellow when she came to a halt and all of a sudden Vanessa found extra controls in her mind. "OK," she said, a hint of fear in her voice, "here goes." She pushed the appropriate mental switch and rose a few feet from the ground. Then she roared upwards, through the clouds, and basked in the sun for a moment. "Ohhh, I’ve missed this!" she said, hovering in the sun-drenched sky. Then, wild with the excitement of actual flying, she shot high into the air, doing loops and barrel rolls, laughing wildly.
"We should be proceeding to the south of France with all possible speed," it reminded its giggling charge. "And I have not made you safe from radar." "Right, sorry." Vanessa cleared her throat. "Which direction should I be going in?" "South, of course," the Ring responded, sounding a clear note of impatience. The blonde rolled her eyes. "And which way is that?" "Turn slowly and I will glow white when you are pointing the correct way." Vanessa did as instructed and, soon enough was speeding as fast as she could go towards the unknown.
It took two hours of flight for the Ringbearer to get to her destination. Even with her large muscles, she’d had to swap the hand she was carrying her suitcase in a couple of times each and so was very sore when she landed just outside the village of Allevard.
"Ring?" she thought, almost drunk on the tiredness. "Give me perfect command of the French language." There was a short pause, during which Vanessa got a lay of the land. It was hilly. "Done," the Ring intoned dully. Thousands of new words appeared in the blonde’s mind, but her only thought was to find somewhere to lie down for the night. She spotted what looked like a hotel under the thick blanket of snow and headed towards it.
"Have you got a better fix on the location of the source of the magic?" Vanessa asked her partner. It began to glow a funny green colour on her finger. After a pause broken only by the sound of the heroine’s footsteps compacting the snow, the Ring responded. "No, but I sense that we must go north." "Tomorrow," Vanessa moaned immediately.
With minimal fuss the blonde made her way to the nearest hotel. The woman at the reception desk practically bit Vanessa’s hand off when she announced that she wanted a room for the next fortnight. She hardly even stared at the blonde’s imposing muscles. When the transaction was complete, she led the Ringbearer up a couple of flights of stairs to a reasonably-sized single room, en suite, and then discreetly left. As soon as the girl was out of the door, Vanessa locked it and fell on the bed, asleep before she hit the mattress.
— To Be Continued —April 25, 2007 at 12:00 am #50934gblock01
ParticipantA pretty good second peice. I can't wait to see what comes next.
April 25, 2007 at 7:42 am #50935lalolanda
Participantgood setup. hope to see more of it soon.
April 26, 2007 at 1:43 am #50936Cowprobe
ParticipantGood beginning Fonk.
I like the slowly mounting sense of climatic dread as well. 🙂
April 30, 2007 at 3:43 am #50937ze fly
ParticipantLooks really promising.
I can't wait to read the rest… 😉May 30, 2007 at 8:56 pm #50938ParticipantEeek! This has a 30-day warning at the top. Must speed up my writing… anywayzles, hope you enjoy this!
————————————-The Claws Of Winter – Part 2
Vanessa Keates was awake. She wriggled uncomfortably, swamped in that curious sticky sensation you can only get from sleeping in your clothes. She stumbled into the bathroom, stripped off and enjoyed the bliss of the power shower. It was 7am, an hour before breakfast would be served in the hotel? dining area. Once the blonde had dried herself down, she dressed in a thick navy sweater and casual black trousers and passed the time emptying her suitcase. Once she finished, the strongwoman lay on her bed and started to talk to her mystical partner.
"You said we had to head north, Ring," she began. "Any idea how far?" "Affirmative, we must head north," it replied, "but that is all I can discern. We will know more as the day progresses." Vanessa mulled this over. "OK," she thought. "You also talked about involving other Ringbearers ?today?" "Yes," the Ring responded. The heroine felt a tingle. Earlier in their partnership, the Ring had filled Vanessa in on much of what the rebelliously geeky part of her brain called "Ringbearer mythology". They generally operated alone ?in fact, most would never meet another in their active lives. Alone, they were powerful; however, whenever history recorded a gathering of Ringbearers, they had never been defeated.
"There? a first time for everything, you know," a sneering part of her mind interjected. Vanessa shook the thought away. "Male or female?" she asked. "Both," the Ring answered. The blonde? brow twitched into a brief frown. Then she realised. "More than one?" she thought, holding her breath. "Indeed. The local operative, whose name is Jean-Jacques Ferrault. The other is the Ringbearer for the north of this country; her name is Dominique Cl?y." The heroine grinned.. When she had learned she was not the only Ringbearer, she had wanted to talk to others like her. Now she would get that chance.
"Where are they?" she thought eagerly. "All in good time," the Ring intoned. "They will meet us at breakfast." Vanessa checked her watch. There was a good forty-five minutes to wait. The heroine began to prowl around her room restlessly. "Is there anything I can do in the meantime? Anyone need my incredible aid?" The physical ring cycled from brick red through British racing green to a purple that reminded Vanessa of a particularly unpleasant spot she had suffered in her youth. "I am afraid that there is no-one within range that we could help in the time available," the Ring droned. The blonde pouted.
"So what do we do in the meantime?" she complained. "Some reconnaissance may be useful," the Ring suggested. "We must go north; let us see if that is possible." A pause whilst Vanessa thought this over. "The magic may be closer than we realise," it continued. "Alright," she said. "We could take a twenty minute stroll and still be back in time for breakfast. Let? see where it takes us."
* * * * * * * *Those forty minutes later, Vanessa nearly bust the doors to the dining room off their hinges. Her trousers were soaked through and sticking to her skin, though her nipples had thankfully gone what she called "off-lock". On the other hand, she was still suffering from great racking shivers brought on by her low body-fat percentage. The heroine huddled up by the largest radiator she could see, and looked around at the empty room.
It was large, with reasonable wooden furnishings and sparse decoration, mainly consisting of plants. There were four circular tables in the centre of the room, each made of richly-coloured wood, like the rest of the furniture in the room. They were laden with delicious, unashamedly French-looking food: croissants, cr?es, French breadsticks, a few tiny pots of jam, some blocks of cheese and lashings of butter. Once she had warmed back up again, the blonde selected her breakfast (a couple of croissants, with all the equipment that entailed) and took it back to her table.
She was eagerly tucking into the first croissant ?surprisingly filling, she decided, given that it was to all intents and purposes made of light bread and air ?when someone came into the room. Vanessa looked up, ready to smile reassuringly at the entrant, but her jaw went slack and she gasped instead. Even before the Ring communicated confirmation to her, she knew that the woman who had just entered had to be a Ringbearer.
The woman blushed, her cheeks coloured up appealingly as she demurely changed direction to sit with Vanessa. "Hello," she said, in cutely accented English. "My name is Dominique. I am a Ringbearer, like you." The Englishwoman could only nod. Dominique was, not to put too fine a point on it, stunning. Dressed in a cream business suit, cut to fit around her roller-coaster curves, she stood at six feet tall. Vanessa put her age as early twenties. Her long brown hair complemented her wide chocolate brown eyes and was bound up in a ponytail that the blonde decided was like a straitjacket. Hair that long, that shiny, that split-end-free?it deserved to be loose and flowing in the breeze of a shampoo commercial.
The most dramatic feature of the young Frenchwoman? body was her bust. Vanessa was proud of her double-G endowments, but Dominique? chest positively broke the bank of her slight hourglass frame. The heroine didn? dare to guess at the measurements, but she knew that even both of her large hands wouldn? come close to covering one of her colleague? mammaries. It was a miracle that she had been able to find a suit jacket and blouse that she could button up.
Vanessa studied Dominique quickly, trying to look for a flaw on her lightly tanned skin. There wasn? one, and the blonde could tell her new companion was not wearing make-up. Suddenly aware that she was staring, Vanessa blinked a few times and grinned sheepishly across the table. "I am sorry," she stumbled, in French, blushing a little. "I am called Vanessa Keates. I am a Ringbearer too. I flew here last night." Dominique? smooth brow crinkled up, a positive crime against the perfection of her skin. "I did not think there were flights available," she said, puzzled. "How did you manage it?" Vanessa put her muscular arms straight out at the sides. "I flew," she repeated. Dominique smiled.
"Ring," Vanessa thought. "How come she isn? muscular like me?" "As I have told you, each Ringbearer faces their own individual trials to earn the title," the Ring began. "To conquer yours, you chose to have physical strength. Dominique wanted beauty and sex appeal." Vanessa nodded thoughtfully, guessing, accurately, that Dominique was asking her own Ring a very similar question. As she looked, the stone on the Frenchwoman? finger changed colour from pale green to a vibrant orange. She smiled.
Dominique? chair scraped back along the dining room floor. "I must get my breakfast," she announced. "I am starving hungry." Vanessa smiled widely and nodded once. The blonde tried to exorcise the thin stab of jealousy that had pierced her when she? first seen Dominique. Her love life over the past year had been disastrous. The Ringbearer? vast muscles frightened far more men than they attracted. Her last anything-like-long-term boyfriend, Sean, had dumped her over two months ago, tired of her cancelling dates at the last minute to fulfil Ringbearer duties. Not that he knew that.
"If only I? gone for beauty," the Englishwoman thought forlornly, seeing her reflection in a window. "It would have worked just as well," she mused, thumbing her large nose and feeling tears in her eyes. "Right now," the Ring announced, "Dominique is regretting not asking for the strength that you have." Vanessa smiled sadly, casting her gaze down to a crack in the floorboards. "I believe you," she thought, "but that doesn? make me feel better. Humans always want what they haven? got." "That is because it is hard to want what you already have," the Ring countered. The blonde humphed.
Dominique smiled widely as she sat back down. She? taken one of the loaves and began to enthusiastically cut it in half. Vanessa munched her second croissant before blurting out: "How old are you?" Dominique looked up. "Twenty-seven," she replied. "I have been a Ringbearer for six months. I understand that I? lucky to be working with others so soon." The blonde nodded. "That is my impression too." It felt odd to be speaking French only for it to be replied to in English. Then again, there was nothing ordinary about the speakers, so why should there be anything ordinary about the conversation?
"I have been a Ringbearer in England for a year and a half," Vanessa stated. "It has been?interesting." Dominique, her full lips around her sandwich at that point, put it back on her plate to smile widely. "Yes," she agreed, "that is the word that I would use, too." Instantly Vanessa regretted her jealousy. The Frenchwoman had the same opportunities she had had ?there was no point in making comparisons. The heroine decided to relax and ease into conversation with her. The two heroines were chatting animatedly when the third Ringbearer, Jean-Jacques, walked in. The hairs on the backs of their necks froze.
By this time the dining room had gotten quite busy. There were forty-something couples with sulky teenagers, large groups of skiers, old men with flat caps and bustling black-clad hotel staff, only too eager to replace the empty bowls and plates on the central tables. They all turned as one to look at the Frenchman. He gave them a smile halfway between confident and sleazy. Then he sat opposite Vanessa, rested his elbows on the table, steepled his fingers together and stared down his nose at her. "Hello," he said, his voice exactly as his actions ?smooth and confident, bordering on arrogant.
He looked as if he was auditioning for a part in a shampoo commercial. He was six foot two, dressed in a spotless black polo neck sweater and matching black trousers. Slightly too muscular to be described as "buff" though still of slight build, chin coated with designer stubble, fingers long and thin ?Vanessa took an instant dislike to him. His deep-set electric blue eyes bored into hers as if she were some complex equation to be solved. His chin was thin and pointed and his hair, set in a simple short back and sides, was a striking black.
"What? this guy? deal?" Vanessa thought. "Was his Ringbearer test based on cockiness and arrogance?" The blonde could almost hear her Ring wincing. "The tests Jean-Jacques underwent involved increasing his intelligence. You will not meet a smarter man than him. I remind you that you must forge a working relationship with him for the duration of your stay." Vanessa fixed a smile to her face, extending her hand towards his. "Hello," she said, in French, "my name is Vanessa Keates. I am a Ringbearer." Jean-Jacques smiled and shook her hand politely. "My name is Jean-Jacques Ferrault," he replied, also in French. "I too am a Ringbearer." A thoughtful pause followed. "I must get breakfast," he announced, and left the table.
Vanessa pulled a puzzled expression at Dominique, who smiled and nodded. "Yes, he is like that," she said. "I met him last night. He says one must be confident to succeed in life, so that is how he chooses to display himself." The Englishwoman made a decidedly French "pffft" noise. "I think he could tone it down a bit," she decided. "Arrogance is not an attractive quality." Dominique responded with an equally Gallic shrug. "We do not choose the ways of others," she said. There was a small awkward silence.
Jean-Jacques returned to the table, carrying the same items Vanessa had had for her breakfast. He retook his seat, opening hostilities on his croissants with evident relish. "So," he began, "I am told we must head north. Do either of you know anything more?" The women both shook their heads. "Then I propose that, once breakfast is over, we prepare for the conditions and head out as quickly as possible." Vanessa nodded slowly; Dominique nodded quickly. "Hmmm," Jean-Jacques said, satisfied. "As you have both finished your meals, might I suggest that you prepare yourselves first? I will follow as quickly as I am able. We will meet in the lobby at 9.30."
"Fine," Vanessa said in pointed English as she stood. Dominique scowled briefly as she stood too. The pair left the dining area together. Once they were a few paces away from the room, the Englishwoman did her best not to explode. "Who does he think he is?!" she half-hissed, half-shouted. "Ordering us around like naughty children!" "I told you," Dominique said, calm with ice. "We cannot change him. We must all work together on this matter. Get ready, Vanessa," she finished brusquely, and headed off down the corridor as the blonde turned to climb the stairs, her face red.
* * * * * * * *By 9.30 only the women had arrived. Vanessa had put a thick black parka on over her sweater, black waterproof trousers and large muddy green boots. Dominique was trying to hide her beautiful body under a long cream coat. The hood, which framed her astonishing face perfectly, was lined with imitation fur. The image of Dominique as a Russian oil billionaire, whipping huskies as they pulled her sled along a frozen wasteland, popped into the Englishwoman? head; she had had to suppress a smile.
As expected, Jean-Jacques turned up what he must have thought was ?ashionably late? He too was wearing a thick black parka and, as he approached, Vanessa thought she saw him twist his ring around a few times. Instantly he began to walk confidently towards the girls. "I see you are ready," he said, still in French. "Shall we go?" He was giving a bright but impenetrable smile. Vanessa nodded politely. "Of course," she said. "Lead on."
The trio left the hotel and followed the same route Vanessa had taken that morning. Mercifully, there was no-one to see them wander off the usual paths. Snow was falling heavily, a sight to which all three were oddly accustomed now. For the Englishwoman, though, it was not enough. "There are tracks leading this way!" Jean-Jacques breathed. "Quickly!" he ordered, doubling his pace through the thick snow. "They may be close at hand." Vanessa smiled unhappily at the ground before addressing her colleague in his native tongue.
"I am sorry, Jean-Jacques," she began, "those are my footprints. I went for a walk earlier today, hoping to learn something." "Foolish woman!" the Frenchman seethed, turning the headlights of his full glare on her. "Why did you not mention this earlier?" Vanessa held out her hands in a gesture of reconciliation. "I did not find anything of interest," she replied, "so I chose not to speak of it. I hope I did no wrong." Jean-Jacques found himself unable to argue, so he turned away. The party continued in sullen silence. "You are playing your role well," the Ring noted dryly. Vanessa nodded grimly.
As the journey went on, past where she had reached that morning, the cold began to get to Vanessa again. She hugged her broad arms to her rippling body and tried to take her mind off the numbness. "You are in a tropical paradise," the Ring intoned. "Shut up, Ring," the heroine thought. "If you want to do something useful, make me impervious to cold." The blonde felt something spread through her body, starting from her left glove. It wasn? exactly warmth, more a sort of solidity. Whatever it was, Vanessa felt better within seconds.
The trio lost count of the number of hills they climbed, but still their Rings said nothing, bar an occasional slight change of direction. Much like their mystical partners, the three Europeans were silent too. Vanessa longed to know what they were thinking as they marched on, but the Ring had explicitly forbidden her from asking for the ability to read thoughts. It was, the monotone had declared, unethical. The Englishwoman tried to guess at her companions?thoughts. From the furtive glances she? managed, Dominique seemed unhappy about something. Jean-Jacques was, as ever, unreadable.
An hour later and the three Ringbearers still had not exchanged another word. However, excitement was rising in each of them: their Rings had just informed them that they were close to the source of the magic that had plunged the world into a never-ending winter. Vanessa gasped and pointed through the flurries of snow: "It must be in that mountain up ahead!" Jean-Jacques nodded thoughtfully. "I was coming to the same conclusion myself," he murmured. "Let us continue with increased caution. The enemy must have anticipated someone discovering their location at some stage." The two women nodded thoughtfully.
The mountain ahead was just as snowy white as the rest of the landscape. It was imposing and craggy; Vanessa hoped that they wouldn? have to climb it. She wasn? exactly built to go rock-climbing at the best of times. Then something caught her eye. "Ring," she thought. "Give me telescopic eyesight." Some extra controls appeared in Vanessa? mind and she immediately focussed in on the detail that had been troubling her. She scowled. "Climbing it is," she thought. "Jean-Jacques, Dominique," she called. The others had moved on a little way and turned when they heard their names. "I?e found it," Vanessa said, pointing to the cave she? seen. As the others adjusted their eyes, the blonde stared at the opening.
A small ball of green light was peeking out of it.
* * * * * * * *L?iver sans fin?/i]
L?iver sans fin?/i]
L?iver sans fin?/i]
L?iver sans fin?/i]The chant was interminable, but he had gotten used to it now. After all, they had been repeating it for months. And it was working! Even now the snow was raging outside. He smiled. An arm draped itself around his thickly muscled torso.
"What is it, my love?" a soft, silken voice cooed in his ear. "They are coming," he whispered. A copy of his grin appeared on her stark features. "Then we will deal with them," she replied. "Guards!" she shouted. Seven grotesquely twisted creatures shambled into the chamber. The chanting men? eyes opened wide, but they did not stop. The guards were like boars in human form: rough, wide faces with large snub noses and huge, unwieldy teeth on top of stocky, strong bodies. Each one carried a curved sword.
"Ogres, assemble your troops," the woman ordered. "The Ringbearers are coming." With a cacophony of grunts and growls, the creatures lolloped away. A moment later there was a rumbling, followed by the sounds of feet marching in time. "And soon they will be going," she said, looking into the eyes of her lover. They kissed as, around them, thousands of ogres poured from the caverns.
— To Be Continued —May 30, 2007 at 11:51 pm #50939ParticipantVanessa's power set being different from, and essential to the Ringbearer's success is quite clever.
Her physicality isn't diluted by an overabundance of her sort of overabundance within the story and the other Bearer's capabilities give the story some nice variety.
Who wouldn't want to be more intelligent, sexy or strong. Almost like a Tri-Force of global security.
The Ogre's description is a method I've certainly got to swipe. Telling the actual appearance before the name releases any preconceptions attached to it. I usually think of neanderlithic giants as Ogres not Moreau boarmen but you've managed to overcome my bias.
Great addition and eagerly awaiting more.
If you wouldn't mind clarifying there seems to be some sort of formatting error which makes some letters in this most recent installment into Chinese characters. 😮
Could just be me though.
May 31, 2007 at 12:24 am #50940ScottG
ParticipantThe Chinese characters seem to appear when an apostrophe is used in a contraction (ie – I've, she'd)
That aside, this is a very good story. I'm looking forward to the next installment.
May 31, 2007 at 3:36 pm #50941ParticipantIf you wouldn't mind clarifying there seems to be some sort of formatting error which makes some letters in this most recent installment into Chinese characters. 😮
Could just be me though.
No, not just you; I see it too. It seems we've lost the ability to edit posts in the great forum space saving thing Lingster talked about in Announcements & Updates, so I can't go back in and correct it. :-[
So, ScottG is partly right: it appears to have come in whenever there's an apostrophe, but also when I use a character like "é". The French female Ringbearer is supposed to be called "Dominique Cléry", f'r example, and:
- The food in the list is "crêpes".
- Jean-Jacques is 'fashionably late'.
- The chant is supposed to read "L'hiver sans fin" four times.
June 1, 2007 at 4:45 am #50942KeithXZ
ParticipantAn excellent story.
Could the Chinese characters from be from the way your web browser's character encoding is set?
In Firefox and MSIE, the encoding is set under View and then Encoding. Usually autoselect works well, but perhaps with french accented characters another setting is needed?
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