Yup, Contest Time Again!

Chase Scene

1. Needs brief character descriptions (What they look like, what their wearing, etc.)
2. Needs short back story
3. Needs a described setting
4. Needs to be at least five paragraphs
5. ONE ENTRY PER MEMBER

Only post entries in this forum. Any discussion is to be done in the discussion thread which I'll set up in a second. Any discussion posts in here will be deleted, not moved.

Legal, technical and general hoo-hah:
- The judges decision (i.e. mine) is final.
- I shall accept no bribes, death threats or violent beatings from those of you who know me.
- The rules will be obeyed or there shall be Repurcussions (muahaha, etc.)
- The prize shall be decided, er, when I have decided.

ENTRIES TO BE IN BY: 21st May

Aww, someone needs to post in this contest! Let me be the first.


Girion crept from tree to tree, as though the shadow the death. His blade was sheathed at his side, but a dull blue glow still eminated from within. His eyes, dark and vibrant, slowly slipped from blue to red as he glared at his target, a middle-aged man with a large belly walking down the black road. He was not highly intelligent, Girion assumed; a wise man would've traveled through during the day; a wiser man would never have taken that path at all.

Lapsing his concentration for just a moment, Girion stepped on a underlying twig, causing it to snap loudly in the soundless night. The man jumped considerably, scanning his eyes futilely across the dense blanket of trees. Girion continued to move foreward, even as the foolish man's eyes were directed right at him. Girion had wandered the forest for many years, and he knew that even a ranger could not spot him in the trees, even on a sunny day.

The fat man, scared to his limits, began to run down the path, screaming as he went. Smiling slightly, Girion leapt upon the path and began a slow run. At a fast run, the stupid fool would already be dead, but there was no need to end the fun so quickly. The man tripped over many roots and stones, while Girion hopped gracefully over each, slowing down should the man fall completely. During one of these falls, Girion pulled his blade out noisily, forcing the man to turn back and gasp at the light that had not been there moments before.

The man ran for nearly ten minutes before he finally fell and did not rise. Girion, growing bored of the fool's fear and pain, approached quickly, chanting slowly and solemnly as he went. The man, doubled over in pain, began to weep horribly, a ear splitting cry that cast Girion into a demonic rage. He slashed the blade across the side of the man, causing blood and skin to fly through the air, splashing on the trees and ground. Girion slashed carefully, no matter how great his rage, so as not to kill the man prematurely. He had plans for him. And when they were done, death would be a gift he would never receive.

Author's Note: Here's me entry. Sorry it's a bit long. I got carried away - I haven't actually sat down and written something non-Novel related for ages.

He needed to work out where they were. That was essential to his survival. Already he had lost them on no less than three occasions, but somehow they managed to appear behind him. It was as if they were able to anticipate his actions.

He checked his watch. Twenty past two. They had been playing this game for about an hour and a half now. He looked in the rear view mirror. Still no sign of either of them. Perhaps he had really lost them this time. No, they were around here somewhere. He began scanning the traffic ahead of him, but he couldn’t recognise any of the vehicles. The traffic lights ahead turned red, and slowly the sea of shining metal and exhaust fumes came to a halt. He put the car in neutral and relaxed momentarily, bringing his hands from the steering wheel to his face, wiping the sweat away.

Was this sweat due to the heat? Even with the car’s air-conditioning on, it was still the hottest day of the year. The other drivers around him glistened in the same way but lacked the same intensity his face now had. Was it the sweat of fear? He had to admit that he was scared, there was no denying it. And yet, unlike most people in this sort of situation, he welcomed his terror. It heightened his senses, making him more aware.

As if to illustrate this, his senses kicked into gear as the car ahead of him opened the passenger door. Without thinking, his eyes focused on the door, his body slid down the seat and his hand shot to the burning metal of his pistol on the seat next to him. The passenger of the car in front didn’t get out; presumably he was merely relieving himself from the heat.

The lights changed to green and the metal sea began to ripple and ebb forwards. He sat up straight and concentrated on his driving. He turned left at the lights, taking him onto a slightly calmer road through the town centre, and out of habit he checked his rear-view mirror. There they were. Less than four cars behind him, the menacing black Jaguar watched him, edging closer. Instinctively, he looked for the nearest turn off or entry point on his left. The only available option was the alleyway reserved only for deliveries made to this street’s line of shops. From what he could remember of the town, it joined up with a few more alleyways. He could lose them once more.

He turned his neck to an uncomfortable angle and listened to it click worryingly. The stress was getting to him. He couldn’t take much more than this. He kept his speed constant, resisting the natural urge to use the indicator, it would really piss the other drivers off, but he had to lose these guys. Slowly, subtly, he began positioning the car as far to the left as he could go without giving away his intentions. The Jaguar overtook the car in front of it, getting even closer. As he checked the mirror again, he could see the Jaguar’s passenger looking down and checking something; somehow, he knew that the spectacled man was loading a gun.

He checked all around him, praying that he wouldn’t damage any of the surrounding cars and peered into the entrance of the thin alleyway. Satisfied, he made his move. Wrenching at the steering wheel with practised force, the car swerved suddenly, plunging into the alleyway and barely missing the brick walls either side of the entrance. His foot hit the accelerator and his car lurched forward. Panicking, the Jaguar leapt onto the pavement, speeding up and turning wildly into the alley. He was already half way towards the end when the Jaguar appeared once more in his rear view mirror, but he couldn’t worry about it now. The alley now split into a T-junction, the turns were quite tight and he wanted to avoid smashing into the looming brick walls. With his practised skills at steering, the car spun to the left and sped off down the next alleyway.

This passage led straight back to the road he’d been sitting on a moment ago, across which he could see another, slightly wider alleyway. Finally, the confusing nature of this city had a purpose. He accelerated quickly, the Jaguar now behind him once more. He glanced briefly at his wing mirror, only to see the glass shatter in a beautiful, ominous shower of fragments. The passenger of the Jaguar was now leaning out of the window, levelling a heavy pistol at his tyres. Slamming his foot on the accelerator so that the peddle met the floor, he tore off towards the road ahead. The lights had obviously changed because now the traffic was gliding happily past the alleyway exit in both directions, oblivious to what was coming. The traffic disappeared from sight as a second black Jaguar swerved into the alleyway, speeding towards him.

His eyes darted frantically from side to side, searching for an exit, praying for another way. There it was; on the left, one of the garage doors opened and a small truck drove out towards the second Jaguar. The truck screeched to a halt as it saw the approaching vehicle, leaving the garage empty for him. He turned quickly into the garage, no longer caring about the state of his car, refusing to slow down. The car slammed into the stone wall at the back of the garage, the car’s momentum crushing the front into an unsightly display of crumpled metal. He reached for the weapon and the suitcase on which it sat and leapt out of the car, winded and wounded. His leg, bruised and painful from the impact, slowed him down slightly, but he jogged towards the door at the end of the room. Behind him he heard the roar of the approaching, gun-toting Jaguar, and chunks of stone leapt towards him from the wall as bullets imploded around him. He dived forward through the door and kicked it shut.

Pocketing the gun, he lifted the suitcase from the floor and tore off down the corridor as fast as his leg would allow. Why had he bothered taking it? Had he really needed the payment for his last job? The personal satisfaction alone had been reward enough; why had he pressed his employers for the money? More to the point, who was this chasing after him? The ‘persuaders’ he had met during the previous week, men hired only to pry such suitcases from the cold, dead fingers of men like him?

Another bullet was fired, but this one he felt before he heard it. There was a shattering pain in his leg, as if his entire limb had caught on fire. Suddenly the determined strength he had been clinging to collapsed and he fell to the floor. His knees added to the pain as the slammed into the hard, cement floor, and his torso fell forward, crashing to the ground. He lay there for a while, trying to get used to the pain, so that he could compose himself and continue. He looked forward; the suitcase had slid down the corridor ahead of him, and was now picked up by a man in a black suit. The gunman from the Jaguar.

“You’re under arrest for suspected murder, theft, arson and grand theft auto. You have the right to remain silent…”

He didn’t hear the rest of his rights, because he blacked out.

The wind whistled past her face as they galloped onwards, her horse and her, always going, always funning. She chanced a glance over her shoulder. They were gaining on her. How unfair, five men against one woman. What had she done wrong? As far as she could recall, before they jumped on horses and started chasing her, they'd shouted something about 'being on private land'. It's true, she was. It was hers! When she'd calmly tried to explain this to them, the reply she received was a shower of arrows, followed by words you would not expect to hear said in the company of a lady.

So here she was, galloping for her life on her stocky grey horse, hoping that she could outrun them long enough to stay alive. Jumping a low wall that appeared in front of them, she held her breath. Another look backwards told her they were still hot on her tail.
"These guys just don't give up!"
*You're telling me! I'm the one doing all the running here!* She looked down at her horse. Being one of the few blessed with her gift, she smiled.
"But isn't this exercise good for you?" A volley of arrows rained down upon her. Pushing her horse forwards, she grimaced.
"Time to start panicking I think."
*I was panicking a long time ago. Why do you think we've managed to stay ahead so long?!?*

They entered a woodland, with Louiture ducking low to avoid tree branches. From the shouts of her pursuers, they weren't so aware. Together Louiture and her horse raced on, until they felt they were safe.
*Well, that was fun, wasn't it.*
"Scrubby little villains, claiming they own our land. Honestly. It's like the battle of Mondue all over again, only this time there's not a fully armed cavalry to ward them off."
*Do you hear something?*
"Sounds like they've found a way to avoid the trees." Louiture could hear the five men catching up with them, and sighed
"Time to be off."

Soon they were out of the woodlands, racing again across the flat plains. Long grasses brushed her feet, hair streaming out behind her. Yoisey's breath came in ragged pants as she strained to keep them ahead of the pack.
"I'm sure we'll be somewhere near home soon."
*Don’t..... count... on it!* Forcing her tired legs to go faster, Yoisey carried on, mane and tail steaming in the wind behind, sweat foaming her flanks, sides heaving as she breathed.

Darkness closed about them, and soon stars littered the sky. Both the chasers and chasee were beginning to feel the strain of a full day's running, but both sides pressed doggedly on, determined not to let the other succeed. Black cliffs loomed in the distance.
"Look, we're home! A week's trek covered in a day. Do you think we should let them know we've got company?" A nod was all Yoisey could manage. Pulling a horn unattached from her waistband, Louiture placed it to her lips. Summoning her remaining breath, she blew as forcefully as she could. It gave the desired effect. A long, loud note rent the air, and suddenly the cliffs were alive with dancing, sparkling lights. A small patch of light grew slowly, and they raced for it. Putting on a turn of speed, Yoisey and Louiture raced for home. Their followers realised what was happening and urged the horses faster. They were gaining on them, second by second. Leaping a ditch, the two headed towards the light, which was the gateway to safety. Only moments behind them were their pursuers. blowing the horn twice more, they still raced on, as arrows flew past them. One landed in Louiture's shoulder, causing her to gasp with pain. Her vision began to fog.
"No... I mustn't. We're.. nearly... there...." Her grip came loose on the reins and she slipped dangerously sideways. She was going to fall! Sensing the danger that her friend was in, Yoisey galloped until she thought her lungs would burst. They gateway was feet away. But Louiture was slipping, slipping, slipping..... They were home! The gates slammed shut just as Louiture slipped from the saddle and landed with a thud on the floor. Yoisey stood panting, legs shaking, as they listened to the hail of arrows thudding into the gates, the frustrated captors buzzing outside like angry wasps. They had made it. Just.

Bit long, for which I'm sorry. It's pants, but just thought I'd vent some creativity which doesn't fit in anywhere. :D

Now for mine! Gemz definitely knows this character, but its set before my Star story.

Xendar slammed the back door to the Mages Tower and strode out onto the streets of the City. Hunting time again. He hated having to act as his fathers obedient little terrier, chasing a rogue mage here, a thief there, as if he actually enjoyed it. He threw the stack of information his father (the Archmage) had thrown at him into an alleyway, and it burst into flames in mid-air. A bunch of terrified muggers came running out of the darkness. That cheered him up a bit. He never needed that information that those incompetents threw together anyway, he was always one step ahead of them. But the man probably knew that he was coming.

He headed to the inn that the man was staying in, pulling his hooded cloak over his face, covering his features. Jet black hair and blue eyes weren’t that common, and nearly everyone knew him in The City, from the high born ‘nobles’ to the prostitutes who probably had more morals than the aforementioned lords. The skies were grey and full of billowing clouds, so it wouldn’t look out of place. He got to the inn and went through the ‘I’m going to see my good friend’ routine, and got directed to Room 14.

When he opened the door, the first thing he noticed was his target jumping out of the window holding a short sword. Dammit! The man had known he would be coming. Well, 6 Mages from the resistance all dead in a row kind of suggested a plot…

He leapt out of the window after the target, landing softly as a cat onto a rooftop, and catching sight of his target disappearing around a brick chimney. Slowly he drew his sword from the sheath, subconsciously noticing the light play down the patterns along its length, and crept forward. He pressed his back onto the brick and slowly tried to look around the corner. Suddenly all his senses screamed out ‘danger!’ and he ducked. Just in time. A fireball passed over where his head had been. He felt a concentration of magic on the other side of the chimney and ran around the corner in time to see the man jump over a gap between the houses, magic lending him strength and flight. Xendar wasn’t far behind, risking the illegal sorcery for speed. He followed his target over inns, merchants’ enclaves and houses, annoying the occupants by making as much noise as possible on their roofs for a while, then moving more stealthily as he gained ground.

The young Mage heard his targets footsteps slow, and then stop. He slid down a rooftop sat in the shadows and muttered the spell to scry ahead. The man was sitting behind an turret on a particularly egotistic nobleman’s house, holding a crossbow. Sneaky. A crossbow bolt wasn’t really something that he would appreciate ramming through his abdomen.

He summoned magic to him, the runes flashing up around him on the rooftop, creating a spell of protection, and then leapt forward, over the rooftop, the bolt bouncing off his shield as he headed straight for the man’s hiding place. He then called sorcery to him again, pulling the crossbow from his targets hands and smashing it on a chimney. The terrified man ran, Xendar in hot pursuit, over the rooftops, up down, up, down.

There was an old run down house ahead of them, and the condemned Mage clambered down the bricks and ran on through the streets. Xendar let magic soar in front of him, reshaping the broken brick and mortar to a slope and he slid down it, landing in a crouch in the dirt. He leapt up, running before he could think about it, instinct overruling thought.

The man was actually heading for outside The City. Momentarily, Xendar thought that this was strange, but then he was caught up once more in the thrill of the chase. He never really enjoyed the killing at the end that much, because it wasn’t as if he had any personal vendetta against the man, but orders were orders…and a pain spell from his father was…well.

His target ran out of the city gates. The guards started after him, but when they noticed Xendar following, they left it to him. Lazy bastards.

Suddenly the man slowed, and once again Xendar’s danger senses twanged. He stopped following and held his sword grip firmly, ready for a trick or a trap. What came wasn’t exactly what he was expecting…

This contest is closed. Your scores will be posted Saturday, May 22. ^_^

The thread will be called “Contest #2 results”

Good luck!