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Poking their heads in, maybe. But that's a far cry from actual readers. I can name four people who read all or part of my story that aren't regular posters in my thread, so it's definitely possible there are more out there. But if we open up a poll, it could easily be influenced by people who are just "dropping by" that haven't actually read the stories. You know? I dunno, I guess I'm just skeptical it would work out in a positive way...
Another non-cannon adventure.
Spoiler!https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s0QSUygwzP0
A blazing desert. Sun blaring directly above. Blustering sands searing in the winds.
Decrepid skyscrapers. Eroded cars sinking into the ground. Concrete corroded into dust.
Men. Fat off the food of others. Hands holding tools twisted for use of pain and war.
They sat on war machines, hastily and sloppily put together from belongings of greater men.
They gathered around a struggling woman. Holding what shouldn't be held. Touching what shouldn't be touched.
They glared at a figure approaching. Body covered in a cloak of purest white. Steps even and tepid as they approached.
They postured. The blustered. They disparaged. And yet, the target of their offenses kept forward uninterupted.
It closed, and they saw details. Though face covered in hood and body in cloak, they saw the stature and figure of a woman. And so, through their threats and boasts, they jeered and they teased.
It wasn't until she was five armlengths away any took action. A cat-like rogue flopped off his perch atop an armored jeep and strutted towards her. Slouched down before her, he jeered into her cowl, before thrusting his hand to her chest.
She did nothing as hollers and vulgarities filled the air. The brigand cackled a victorious laugh, before noticing a gentle hand on his arm. An arrogant smile plastered his face as he reached for her waist.
His body then thrust into the ground with a crunch and a splatter.
The men shouted as the sand unveiled the ripped corpse of their comrade. They gave whoops and cries as they swaggered into a circle around her.
As they came into their formation, she brought her hand to the hem of her cloak.
One thug on her blindside leapt at her.
Throwing her cloak into the air, she began.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mixg...youtu.be&t=23s
She tilted her body gently, allowing a crude club to pass by her shoulder. Her elbow then crashed into his spine, snapping it in two.
Several men took the movement of their comrade to start their attack before they saw the outcome. Shocked at the abrupt finish, they flinched right into her attack radius. A strike to the neck, to the chest, and to the face, and they backed off.
Bloodthirst at a high, they all came at once. She pulled at a wooden pole, she tapped a pair of clubs and an axe, and she turned at a chainsaw. In response, a body was thrown against three others, the unwieldly weapons were thrust into the bodies of the combatants besides them, and the chainsaw bit into a brigand lunging with a knife.
The chaos of battle preventing any other attacks against her.
With a spin, she disarmed the chainsaw and swung it in a wide arc in one motion. She allowed it to tear through the cluster of men closest to her before allowing it to fly toward a grouping further out. She threw a swift roundhouse at one man, leapt into a sidekick against one beside him, and landed into a flying crescent against those behind her.
With this swift chain of motions, bodies, weapons, and body parts flew way from her, leaving her alone in the center of a circle of bodies.
A lone attacker leapt right at her, swinging his wooden pole at the back of her neck.
Half of it broke off into the air, spinning uselessly into the sky.
Not bothering to look back to his unbelieving face, she uttered a single word:
"Watch"
He could do nothing but back away and follow her command.
From the debris rose the survivers of the first onslaught, weapons and bodies falling from their bodies as they stood. Animalistic rage filled their faces. A few rose high, a few lurched into a combat stance.
At this, Levia turned to the side, raised her arm into the air, and muttered a single sentence:
"You are already dead."
As they were about to lunge forward for one final attack, their bodies tensed.
One grabbed his neck. He coughed, he choked, and he scrached at his throat.
One grabbed his chest. He whined and he wheezed, and he struck his breast.
One grabbed his face. He wiped at his eyes, yet he could not stop himself from crying blood.
One grabbed his stomach. He looked at his hand to find it covered in blood.
They collapsed in unison.
Levia's cloak floated down, straight into her outstretched hand. She flipped it over her shoulder, and fastened it to her neck. She looked back at the lone surviver behind her, uselessly holding on to a splintered half of a wooden pole.
She spoke - in a tone soft, clear, gentle, and sorrowful - these words:
"Return from where you came. Tell all of what you saw."
She left her back open to him as she walked away. And as expected, he turned away and ran.
She walked behind the vehicles to find a woman shivering in fear. She jerked her head up to Levia, and planted her hands on the ground. Then she froze.
Levia knelt to her knees, flipped her cowl off her face, and outstretched her hand. Her face was a mirage shifting between the image of a forlorn woman, and that of a piscene alien.
Her head tilted downward, and her body slouched slightly forward, she addressed the woman.
"I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?"
Author's Notes:
Spoiler!I just watched the first episode of Fist of the North Star. It's really hard not to parody.
I threw this together in an hour or two, including proof reading and editing, so there are a few rough spots. But I just wanted to upload something.
And, highly related:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uints81YYMc