tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-665422699495269392024-03-12T17:14:20.575-07:00Land Of All SortsI'm trying to break into comics...and your hearts. Stay tuned.Rikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04295611102803376800noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66542269949526939.post-19956903754622213502011-11-05T07:15:00.000-07:002011-11-05T07:16:24.764-07:00Habibi<span class="Apple-style-span" >Habibi by Craig Thompson<br /><br />This review is late. Whilst I picked up Habibi within a week of its UK release I’ve been a little busy making my own comics, celebrating my birthday and trying to avoid the poverty line. This is not an apology on my part for my lack of consistency rather it’s a warning that what you’re about to read has likely been said hundreds of times already. Namely that Habibi is an outstanding achievement in the world of comics. I should point out here that this is a pretty long review and is bordering on a crappy critical review that wouldn’t get a C a G.C.S.E. however Habibi is around 650 pages long so a short review would be a tad lacking.<br /><br />A lot of people expected this to be so, Thompson’s previous work has received critical acclaim and he has been working on this book for years now. Honestly I wasn’t expecting much though. I’d read blanket and thought it was pretty enough but it had the distinct whiney autobiographical feel to it that most whiney autobiographical comics have. I understand that technically its good but I just have very little interest in it, a bit like the Beatles. I’d picked up Habibi because it was on special offer in my local comic book store in fancy hardback and looked like it would take me some time to read. Turns out that was true. Now to the book.<br /><br />Habibi follows the story of a young girl named Dodola and her ward Zam set in mystical and timeless Arabic land. To go into the intricacies of the plot would take time I don’t care wasting but needless to say there separation, trails and reunion. But what I do what to talk about is how Thompson handles themes. On the most basic level each character represents separate themes of femininity and masculinity as well as love and sexuality. But these are merely themes of the characters motives; the real mastery is in the use of stories as a motif through the book. Dodola learns the stories of Quran that become recounted throughout the book and as pararrells to the events that befall the characters. This combined with Thompson technique of showing re-using panels out of sequence creates a fantastic effect.<br /><br />In addition to the story telling aspect is that of Islamic magic squares (9x9 square were each line adds up to 15 after the numbers 1-9 are placed in them) which are used as a kind of framing device for the story. Here’s the fun part, in the explanation of the magic squares and the characters (as in letters, not protagonists’) they contain Thompson really begins to push what one can do with comics. The characters become symbols which become part of the story which in turn interact with the Dodola and Zam who then reference back to the fables they have learned and the magic square. The book becomes almost meta-textual. But no the the hammy way comics usually try to be “meta”. By referencing the creators or lampooning some comic traditions. This book becomes a living entity, its complexity growing page by page. Broken into nine parts, each representing a panel in the magic squares I hear rumours that Thompson has left a riddle in the book. If you are able to solve the riddle there is a second way to read the book. Now this may just be apocrypha surrounding a book so complex that does indeed concern itself with riddles but it’s got me excited all the same.<br /><br />Thompson looks at some difficult themes in this book. It’s now my understanding that after reading this and Blankets Thompson has some weird sexual issues going on. Still that aside Thompson goes back to something he has wrote about before. Religion. It’s very tricky to write about religion without coming across as preaching or just a humanities lecture, but Thompson pulls it off fantastically. A lot of it might have to do with the mystical setting of the book that allows the fantastic stories taken from the Quran to be both symbolic and at the same time true. Furthermore Thompson explores Islam is a respectful and enlightened way. He really does show what a colourful and beautiful religion it really is. This is opposed to Blankets in my eyes, where although he did explore Christianity, it felt laboured and weighed me down, that said, that is kind of how the protagonist of the book felt as well. My hope is that no one will be offended unnecessarily by this exploration are its genuinely kind and sincere. But that’s enough of my wasted Theology degree coming through.<br /><br />The Art. Oh my days the art. Firstly Thompson has mastered the cartoon characterisation. His characters are identifiable, expressive and individual. His use of Arabic patterns and religious iconography is astounding. When he needs to his panels are crammed with characters, and thats the important thing. This market places and harems are filled with characters not extras as the case might be. In other parts of the book he uses lots of white space and it’s all done to create just the right mood for those scenes. It can’t be stressed enough at how good Thompson is at directing his art work. His Quranic scenes are lose and filled with mysticism and symbolic that he lets the reader explore, he occasionally creates scenes where we learn alongside the characters and the images are much freer flowing and thought like and at one point he cuts to prose, but it’s an arranged prose that still exists in panels. It’s worth owning this book for the art alone. It’s beautiful.<br /><br />Go buy this book, it’s pretty, its complex and it really show that comics can be as legitimate an art form as anything else. Now I’m going to and see if I can solve that magic square.</span>Rikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04295611102803376800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66542269949526939.post-43052449691250227062011-10-11T08:37:00.000-07:002011-10-11T09:00:35.943-07:00Stolen Poster<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-En1B0NGzl3g/TpRjCQTIp4I/AAAAAAAAAAQ/eWDbFeBUcVU/s1600/stolen%2Bposter.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 180px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-En1B0NGzl3g/TpRjCQTIp4I/AAAAAAAAAAQ/eWDbFeBUcVU/s320/stolen%2Bposter.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5662259521897670530" /></a><br /><br />The poster i stole from the Gold Panda gig. Yay McKelvie.Rikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04295611102803376800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66542269949526939.post-87953269175270104412011-10-11T08:33:00.001-07:002011-10-11T08:33:23.220-07:00Gold Panda review<span xmlns=''><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman; text-decoration:underline'>Gold Panda Live at The Brudenell Social Club- Friday 7<sup>th</sup> October<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Before I talk about the gig I firstly have to make an excuse and an apology. See, originally I was never planning to review this gig, my plan had been to get shitfaced before stumbling into the night to say farewell to a friend who was fleeing country but betwixt the support and the main act I was accosted by a woman in black. "Why are you just stood here alone, dressed in black? Shouldn't you be dancing down there with everyone else?" I was dressed in black because It's slimming and I wasn't dancing because I was alone dealing with a mixture of funk induced happiness that was dealing with a melancholic thug of sadness that was threatening to beat me to death with the baseball bat of fond memories. Also I was becoming increasing drunk. To dismiss this would-be-cougar I simply stated that I was reviewing the band and it's easier to get a neutral view of a gig from the back, also that I was wearing black because it's slimming. As the woman in question to subtle attempt to seduce me ("so, shots?") I decided that even though I was drunk I would review the gig. That's the excuse.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>The apology is for the fact that I continued to get drunk and parts of this review are irrelevant to actual gig. The parts that are relevant may be misremembered. I wouldn't go as far as to say that I'm like Hunter S. Thompson, and that this is "gonzo" journalism, no that's not for me to say (if people want to think that it's up to them) but it's certainly slap-dash, haphazard journalism. I promise my next review (of Craig Thompsons <em>Habibi </em>) will be more sensible and not conducted whilst drunk. Thank you for your time.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>I arrived at the Brudenell Social Club around 8 o'clock. If you've never been to or heard of then venue then shame on you. It's an indie-alt-centric venue in the heart of the Hyde Park area in Leeds. By the time I'd got there it was already crammed with the usual hipsters, scenesters, students and just general fucking weirdoes that normally frequent the place. The gig was sold out and there was chatter amongst the wall flowers that the gig was going to be great, not because of Gold Panda you understand but because of the support Dam Mantle. Of course the support was the real reason these bastions of coolness where here. Some of them where even going to risk their chinos and dance. Gasp. Dam Mantle had to do something pretty fucking good to win me over now.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>I set up camp at the back, next to quiet area of the bar. A gentleman promoting his friends art show befriended me and the drinking commenced moments before the support. Dam Mantle walked to the stage. A wraith of an awkward bedroom DJ. The first track was uninspired and appeared to make the act dance like what can only be described as a spider having an epileptic fit. I was unimpressed. Initially. As he continued I became increasingly won over by the electron house display before me. Maybe these scenesters were right. This guy was making them dance, dammit I was almost dancing. What if Gold Panda came on and wasn't as good? His album, <em>Lucky Shiner, </em> is fairly mellow. What if I didn't dance? What if he sucked? What if this stranger wants me to buy a round? Wait where the fucks he gone? Dam mantle and my new friend disappeared around the same time and I was left at the bar, the room crashing towards me during the brief break to get drinks. That's when I met the aforementioned cougar lady.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Once the I was alone again and had decide that I would indeed write this review I decided to pay attention. Panda came to magical musical desk, canopied by fairy lights and a arty slide slow accompanying him. Electricity filled the room. The opening track was " <em>You"</em>. This is the only track I can identify. I mean I could I name other tracks but I sure that he open with "<em>You</em>". Positive. Like 96 percent. Anyways, what happened was magical. Illuminated by fairly lights with the room became a pulsing, happy, dancing place. Panda jerk to the beat, his hood up like some electronic-dance monk. I found smiling uncontrollably. The music shift from track to track with technological precision. This was the chill out album I know and love, it had become a dance monster and the crowd was devoted. The screen behind Panda cut from images of waves to rain to industrial park. There was a sense of the exotic meeting the quintessentially British. In that former working man's club turned arty's subculture venue a little magic was create. The stage invasion mid set by a group of happy and I can only assume hammered teenage girls captured this perfectly. They danced away happily leaving the stage when they got bored or to be back with friends, they were never pulled away by bald men in yellow t-shirts. I'd like to say that "<em>Snow & Taxis"</em> was playing whilst this happened. I'd like to but that might just be wishful thinking.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>I left that night with a smile on my face ready to enjoy the rest of my night and say goodbye in a cheerful to my friend. Also I stole a Jamie McKelvie Art Brut poster on my way out. Good times.<br /></span></p><p><a href='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bgXZMnJcs3M'>http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bgXZMnJcs3M</a></p></span>Rikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04295611102803376800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66542269949526939.post-18244891010748052112011-10-11T08:32:00.001-07:002011-10-11T08:32:36.072-07:00Reviews<span xmlns=''><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman; text-decoration:underline'>Green River Killer: A True Detective Story<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Written By Jeff Jensen, Artwork by Jonathan Case, Letters by Nate Piekos<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Jeff Jensen's first graphic novel recounts the story of his father's investigation into the titular Green River Killer. Cited as the worst serial killer in US history, haunting Seattle and claiming the lives of almost 50 women, Jensen retells his father's downright tenacious "quest" to capture Gary Leon Ridgeway. <br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>The narrative is fantastic and pace is fantastic. The prologue gives us an alarming and brutal insight into the mind of Gary, depicting his first foray into violence whilst the epilogue paints us a picture of the Detective Tom Jensen. These juxtaposing scenes bookend the story itself that jumps back and forth skilfully throughout the investigation that creates a complex, and engaging story. Spanning and visiting different parts of investigation treats us to sophisticated visual foreboding and intrigue that we can see that we can see have importance that isn't revealed until much later on in the story. The picture of the author as a youth dressed as a knight that is stapled to Det. Jensen's cubicle with the caption "Green River Mission Statement" is a particularly strong motif that has a resounding significance come the end of the story and the understanding that although the story is a crime thriller and it's really an exploration of Detective Tom Jensen and the kind of man he is. Little nuisances, his behaviour with colleagues, are all beautifully depicted. The work Jensen and Case do with panels and paces displays wonderful characterisation, in particular pages 187-192 allude to the detectives hidden frustration and steely commitment fantastically.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Case's art is outstanding through. Almost classically cartoonish, he manages to capture every decade the book moves trough and ages the characters brilliantly. His real forte is his mastery of expressions though. He expertly captures the frustration of the case, the joyous camaraderie between the detectives and the icy distance of the killer. Part way through you believe that these characters are real, and then you <em>realise </em>they are. Whether a cost based or stylised decision, black and white works for this book. The shocking murder scenes are so because of the nature of them and the psyche of the murderer. Coloured panels would of cheapened or at least detracted from the ideas behind the story.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>The only thing I could possibly put against this book is that the jumping narrative may prove difficult for those inexperience with reading graphic novels. That is it. Green River Killers works as a crime novel but works even better as a son's explanation for the idolisation of his father. But by far and away I think the this book is a master class in exploring mindset of a good man wholeheartedly dedicated to his pursuit. There are a lot of creator owned biographical graphic novels out there cited as master pieces, a lot with better art, a lot with more revelation about the author but not as many work so well as a story in themselves. This is a great story with outstanding characterisation, if that's the kind of thing your into, and let's face it if you have any sense you should be, put down whatever superhero trade paperback you want to buy, walk over to the Dark Horse section and pick up Green River Killer. It's Good.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><br /> </span> </p></span>Rikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04295611102803376800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66542269949526939.post-78455608825133661152011-10-11T08:31:00.003-07:002011-10-11T09:01:03.896-07:00In the grace of your love...<span xmlns=''><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman; text-decoration:underline'><strong>A track by track review of "In the Grace of Your Love" by The Rapture.<br /></strong></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>This reviews a little late. Sorry but I was watching several documentaries about dinosaurs so as a wise ninja turtle once said "gimme a break". Anywho, for those of you that are already aware of The Rapture, well done you, let's be friends, but for the uninitiated they are an electro-dance-punk act on the major electro-dance-punk label DFA Records, home to the now defunct LCD Soundsystem (lest we forget), Hotchip and a bunch of others. Even if you don't already know and love the rapture you've definitely heard at least one of their tracks if you've been to any self respecting (or self loathing; it's hard to tell with indie kids these days) indie based night. Namely, the cowbell noise music monster <a href='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JKHUuT-fShY&feature=fvst'>"House of Jealous Lovers"</a>. Followed the link? Remember what I'm on about? Good. Anyway their latest album is a tad different from that. It's their fourth so far and these guys are no longer just concerned with just making you dance so hard you spill your cheap drink on whatever topman garments your clad in, they have pop music in their sights.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman; text-decoration:underline'>1. Sail Awa<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>The opening track kicks off with Luke Jenner's pained and strained vocal with "<em>Sail away!"</em> ascending into the track. Accompanied by a joyous little synth melody and a jangly drum beat, this song almost writes itself. It instantly feels familiar. Until the extended psychedelic outro, at which point it feels like a close friend telling you he's the pope unexpectedly. It's unusual and out of the ordinary but you still can't help but love the chap.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman; text-decoration:underline'>2.Miss You<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Sex Bass! Thats right this track has sexy bass kicking it off. On first listening it the lyrics sound hammy, almost a parody, but by the chorus you realised that once again these guys are trying to make a classic sing along pop extraganza. Expect to try and clap along to the clapping in the track and fail. Moments to look out for: The snare drum kick after the bridge. Saucy.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman; text-decoration:underline'>3.Blue Bird<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>The most "indie" track on the album. Buzzing guitars with up tap tap tappah tappah drums pierced by falcetto vocals. The chorus a pretty chant with wailing guitar solos. The most inoffensive track but also the most boring it's pleasant enough but feels somewhat like filler.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman; text-decoration:underline'>4.Come Back to Me<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>A gypsy exploration. The distant vocals carry what is essentially a simple enough dance track until the hypnotic chorus of " <em>Are we all children".</em> At which point you have to start paying more attention. "<em>I welcome you back into my heart, my spirit, my nourishing spirit"</em> starts to sound increasingly sinister. Like a seductive circus that you don't realise is filled with sexual deviants and people who like the musical stylings of Katy Perry. The reprise is a heavy step in this direction (not towards Katy Perry thank God, towards the dark.). A white noise background, then more synth. Cut. Funky drums. The reprise is remix fuel and harks back to "Echoes" with its sinister feel.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>5.In The Grace of Your Love<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Title track time! A lumbering track with plodding synth and art-school sharp guitar. "<em>In the grace of you love"</em> acting as a prefix to every other lyric, this is another attempt to write a pop song with none pop music. It's not long before you find yourself bopping (you kids still bop right?) to the funk. That's just before another creepy reprise. This album is about love, but a creepy love-is–terrifying type of way.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>6.Never Die Again<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Alright. On a album listen you'll probably listen as you'll be too engrossed by previous tracks. On an iTunes shuffle it might get a skip. Pretty much run of the mill Rapture, five to five on a Friday afternoon, let's get bash this track out and get to the pub type affair. Saying that it is funky and does have quite a looming a deep ending.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>7. Roller Coaster<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Welcome back to the carnival of dance-punk. The title lyrics wash over you like a cultish chant. The rolling drums and singing guitars create a sense of bitter sweet summer afternoons with lyrics telling the story of a roller-coaster relationship that's on the rocks. This track is warm yellows, orange and gold with summer sun glare spilling over a BBQ that's about to end.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>8. Children<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>And the award for track mostly to appear on an advert promoting some shit movie channel in the spring goes to.... That's not entirely a bad thing though. This track has a happy little melody with simple, sweet lyrics. It sounds a tad like "Sweet Disposition" by Temper Trap or " 1914" by Phoenix ( Philipe Zdar produced both this album and "Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, if its not broke eh?) with a kind of Playschool vibe. As much I hate to admit it, I like those tracks. Just like every over person on the planet.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>9. Can You Find a Way?<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>The Middle East meets videogames and vomits a track in your face. With a dervish call to arms droll of "<em>Maybe if you tried it you would even like it, maybe if you let yourself go</em>," bloopy-bleepy synth (don't act like you don't know what that means) with random and crashing guitars. This track is short, unusual, a tad unsettling but fun.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>10. How Deep is Your Love?<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Gospel type pianos and drum machine equals early nineties eurodance! Unsettling for many of us admittedly but give this track 48 seconds. The static bass kicks in with his buddy the funk drums! Bam the best dance-punk track since LCD's "Dance Yrself Clean" (admittedly that was only last year but it was bloody good). "<em>Let me hear that song" </em>should be on the mouths of every alternative, every hipster, every indie kids lips for the next few months. Assuming DJ's are brave enough to play it. Listen closely and you can hear the cowbells are back in this track with a vengeance. Move over "House of Jealous Lovers" the Rapture have a new calling card. The bridge gives you a moment to catch your breath and commences with "<em>How deep is love? Oh! How deep is love?"</em> (Not a cover, alas) then this track just kicks you teeth in with bum bum bumbumbum, reprise. Cultish dance master class. <a href='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jTIKffFPFv0'>Be here now</a>.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>11. It Takes Time to Be a Man<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Jenning's song to his children full of a hopeful advice and the nicer side of Christian idealism; also happens be the funkiest, most soulful, piece of Motown mimicry there is. Lazy seductive bass, with "my first piano" melody cuddles Jennings "<em>I bet you can't get what you want, come on baby come on darling, I bet you can't get what you need, come on sugar and try</em>". For my money the standout track on the album. Not only because it stands out like a sore thumb, but also because just a massively seductive and warm track. <a href='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dGcRrNktKWc'>This will make your day so much better</a>.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Overall, I thoroughly enjoy this album, but I'm biased I love this band. Hopefully you do to know. Go buy their third album "Pieces of the People We Love" it's largely more upbeat but a much harder listen. Take on "Echoes" when you're a pro. Until next time scenesters.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman; text-decoration:underline'><br /> </span> </p></span>Rikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04295611102803376800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66542269949526939.post-21329810222907284092011-10-11T08:31:00.001-07:002011-10-11T09:01:15.753-07:00Mariachi!<span xmlns=''><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Mariachi El Bronx (II) by Mariachi El Bronx<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>On my desk rests a cup. This cup is home to cold puddle of the finest chai Yorkshire has to offer, a lump of chocolate digestive lost tragically mere minutes ago rests beneath the surface, occasionally fragmenting and reminding me of my snacking failure and I finish off the last of the tea. I gaze across the street. The flat faces of terraces houses stand boorishly in front of the overcast sky sporting no less than 21 different shades of grey; I am firmly planted in England. Or am i? Let me fill your ears for one moment with the music of Mexico. Let me paint a sonic picture of dusty roads, a golden blue sky, tequila, irresponsible pistol usage and beautiful Latino women. Rather, let Mariachi El Bronx do it. <br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Mariachi El Bronx(II) is the second, rather cunningly named outing from LA's hardcore heroes The Bronx alter ego. There first mariachi album was unexpected, fun and pretty thematic. The second is much of the same fair. This is a good thing. The album kicks off in full form with "48 Roses", an alarmingly catchy track about the problems with having several lovers. Its filled with a urgency and alarm beyond its station. "Great Provider" is filled with a happy, almost cliché sound, but concerns itself with the loss of love. Through this album the lyrics and the music should be conflicting but they don't. They perfectly capture the feel of Mexico, or at least the idealised idea of Mexico. Songs are filled with religious references with constant requests for forgiveness, combined with the manner a tragic line about love ( "<em>everybody wants to be alone, until they are alone" –</em> "Poverty's King") and a general feeling that the band are up to no good creates a feeling of some heartbroken, gun slinging mariachi circa Once Upon a Time in Mexico.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>The stand out stacks for me has to be "The Matador" a beautifully heroic and rather laid back affair about the death of a matador. "Bodies of Christ" is a rather sensual track that's another stand out, with aching vocals from front man Matt Caughtran and a lazy riff that paints an image of some sweat and candle lit bedroom.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Technically, the album is great. The variation of styles, compositions and dynamics is a little exploration of mariachi styles. The first album felt very much like a band doing trying to do songs in a mariachi style. This album sounds like a mariachi band. <br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>This album is an album of little victories and tragedies. It feels intimate and genuine. The lyrics never feel like they were looked up in the big book of acceptable (read as expected) pop lyrics. Each song feels like it relates to specific events, they all feel like little stories in themselves. For 46 minutes today I was in the sun enjoying a complex life a roguish and lovelorn musician, stalking the streets of Tia Juana looking for my next adventure. As the final track "Spread Thin" hits its climax, sunset of a guitar solo with pacing drums and dynamic trumpets I'm dumped firmly back home. Oh look, it's raining. I might give it just one more listen.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Track listing<br /></span></p><div><table border='0' style='border-collapse:collapse'><colgroup><col style='width:45px'/><col style='width:572px'/><col style='width:17px'/></colgroup><tbody valign='top'><tr style='background: white'><td style='padding-right: 10px'><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>1.</span></p></td><td><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>"48 Roses" </span></p></td><td style='padding-right: 10px' vAlign='middle'> </td></tr><tr style='background: #f7f7f7'><td style='padding-right: 10px'><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>2.</span></p></td><td><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>"Great Provider" </span></p></td><td style='padding-right: 10px' vAlign='middle'> </td></tr><tr style='background: white'><td style='padding-right: 10px'><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>3.</span></p></td><td><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>"Revolution Girls" </span></p></td><td style='padding-right: 10px' vAlign='middle'> </td></tr><tr style='background: #f7f7f7'><td style='padding-right: 10px'><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>4.</span></p></td><td><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>"Fallen" </span></p></td><td style='padding-right: 10px' vAlign='middle'> </td></tr><tr style='background: white'><td style='padding-right: 10px'><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>5.</span></p></td><td><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>"Norteño Lights" </span></p></td><td style='padding-right: 10px' vAlign='middle'> </td></tr><tr style='background: #f7f7f7'><td style='padding-right: 10px'><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>6.</span></p></td><td><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>"Mariachi El Bronx" <span style='font-size:10pt'>(featuring Mariachi Reyna de Los Angeles)</span></span></p></td><td style='padding-right: 10px' vAlign='middle'> </td></tr><tr style='background: white'><td style='padding-right: 10px'><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>7.</span></p></td><td><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>"Map of the World" </span></p></td><td style='padding-right: 10px' vAlign='middle'> </td></tr><tr style='background: #f7f7f7'><td style='padding-right: 10px'><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>8.</span></p></td><td><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>"Bodies of Christ" </span></p></td><td style='padding-right: 10px' vAlign='middle'> </td></tr><tr style='background: white'><td style='padding-right: 10px'><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>9.</span></p></td><td><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>"Poverty's King" </span></p></td><td style='padding-right: 10px' vAlign='middle'> </td></tr><tr style='background: #f7f7f7'><td style='padding-right: 10px'><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>10.</span></p></td><td><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>"Matador" </span></p></td><td style='padding-right: 10px' vAlign='middle'> </td></tr><tr style='background: white'><td style='padding-right: 10px'><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>11.</span></p></td><td><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>"Everything Dies" </span></p></td><td style='padding-right: 10px' vAlign='middle'> </td></tr><tr style='background: #f7f7f7'><td style='padding-right: 10px'><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>12.</span></p></td><td><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>"Spread Thin"</span></p></td><td vAlign='middle'> </td></tr></tbody></table></div></span>Rikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04295611102803376800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66542269949526939.post-85310055548814805352011-10-11T08:25:00.000-07:002011-10-11T08:30:33.105-07:00It's been a whileits been many a moon since i updated this page but the lovely Biz over at http://bizhorne.blogspot.com/ referenced me on her facebook page. Follow her, she's lovely.<br /><br />Now some admin. Myself and Jordan Collver (http://jordansdrawings.blogspot.com/) have started work on a comic together. its going well so far. We are at the Inking stage and go to print in a few weeks. The details are all here http://www.indiegogo.com/Ladies-Gentlemen-The-Curse-of-the-Were-Hyena-and-other-Horrible-Hybrids.<br /><br />Furthermore i've started writing reviews here http://www.thepeopleihaveknown.com/a-shot-in-the-cock.html. Anyways i promise i'll update more often hence forth. see y'all in the funny pages.Rikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04295611102803376800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66542269949526939.post-55413286210455247592011-04-12T05:20:00.000-07:002011-04-12T05:21:51.619-07:00Sci fi rip offAnother story i did thats a parody of the fantastic voyage. enjoy.<br /><br /><br />FANTASTIC JOURNEY<br /><br />PAGE ONE<br /><br />PANEL ONE: View from above of a body lay on an operating table. Surgeons, scientist and nurses working around him. <br /><br />CAPTION BOX:<br />YEAR 2178 B.C.E. OPERATING THEATRE OF THE ST. QUALXOR HOSPITAL.<br /><br />SURGEON: <br />NURSE, THE PATIENT IS READY. BRING THE CAPTAIN AND HIS TEAM OVER.<br /><br /><br />PANEL TWO: View from above and in front a nurse walking. She is holding a tray with a needle on it.<br /><br />NURSE: <br />COMING DOCTOR.<br /><br /><br />PANEL THREE: A close up of the tray and needle with the nurses hands at the edges of the PANEL.<br /><br />CAPTAIN (OFF): <br />THIS WAS GOING TO BE TRICKY. SYMPTOMS INCLUDED VIOLENT SPASMS IN THE SPINAL COLUMN, HALLUCINATIONS, FEVER AND NO CAUSE HAS BEEN DETECTED.<br /><br /><br />PANEL FOUR: Just the needle now, full with fluid and a tiny dot floating in it.<br /><br />CAPTAIN (OFF):<br />THAT’S WHY THEY’VE GOT US. WE’RE THE BEST AT EXPLORATORY AND DIAGNOSTIC MEDICINE IN THE BUSINESS.<br /><br /><br />PANEL FIVE: Now we can see inside the needle and the dot is revealed to be a shuttle. It has small window PANELs, thrusters and wings. On top is a glass dome with a canon attached. A stereotypical sci-fi vehicle.<br /><br />CAPTAIN (OFF):<br />OR MAYBE WE’RE THE ONLY ONES CRAZY ENOUGH TO PULL OFF A STUNT LIKE THIS.<br /><br />PAGE TWO<br /><br />PANEL ONE: A page wide panel revealing the crew in the command deck of the ship. The Captain stands on the furthest left. He is a handsome middle aged man. He stands with his hands on his hips, boldly looking out into the mysterious distance. Behind him stands another, less impressive man, First Mate Vaklev. Vaklev is slimy, devious and wears a crooked scowl. After him, sat at a work station with lots of bleeping lights and radars like devices, is navigation officer Jane O’Hare. She is blonde and beautiful. Her jumpsuit is tight fitting and can barely contain her heaving bosom. After Jane stands the bookish chief science officer Frazer and with him is the young and innocent deck hand Toby. The following captions should float next to the characters in the panel.<br />CAPTAIN (THOUGHT BOX)1: <br />THE TEAM INCLUDES MYSELF.<br /><br />CAPTAIN: <br />STATUS REPORT<br /><br />CAPTAIN (THOUGHT BOX)2: <br />MY FIRST MATE VAKLEV.<br /><br />VAKLEV:<br />WE’RE READY FOR INJECTION CAPTAIN.<br /><br />CAPTAIN (THOUGHT BOX)3: <br />THE BEAUTIFUL YET INTELLIGENT NAVIGATION OFFICER JANE O’HARE<br /><br />JANE: <br />NAVIGATION READY<br /><br />CAPTAIN (THOUGHT BOX)4: <br />CHIEF SCIENCE AND MEDICAL OFFICER DR. FRAZER.<br /><br />FRAZER: <br />MED-TOOLS PRIMES AND READY<br /><br />CAPTAIN (THOUGHT BOX)5: <br />AND OUR DECK HAND AND GOOD LUCK CHARM, TOBY<br /><br />TOBY: <br />LET’S GO!<br /><br />PANEL TWO: The nurse is injecting the unconscious patient in the arm.<br /><br />CAPTAIN (OFF): <br />SINCE SPINAL INJECTION WAS TOO RISKY, WE’D HAVE TO ENTER THE BLOOD STREAM AND MAKE OUR WAY TO THE SPINAL COLUMN.<br /><br />PANEL THREE: A head shot of the Captain, gritting his teeth.<br /><br />CAPTAIN (THOUGHT BOX):<br />IT COULD TAKE US A FEW DAYS BUT WE’D SAVE THIS GUY DAMMIT.<br /><br />CAPTAIN:<br />HOLD ON EVERYONE, THIS MIGHT GET BUMPY!<br /><br />PANEL FOUR: Shot from inside a vein. The cavernous roof has a large metal shaft protruding from it; it’s the tip of the needle and from it shoots the ship, a stream of bubbles trailing behind it.<br />CAPTAIN (OFF): <br />WE’RE IN!<br /><br /><br />PAGE THREE<br /><br />PANEL ONE: The captain sits in his command chair. He strokes his chin with one hand in contemplation.<br /><br />CAPTAIN (THOUGHT BOX): <br />THUS FAR THE MISSION HAS BEEN A SUCCESS, BUT AT LITTLE OVER A DAY VAKLEV IS STARTING TO SHOW SIGNS OF PRESSURE.<br /><br />PANEL TWO: A frontal of Vaklev shouting out. His hair is tattered and his eyes are blood shot. He holds onto his face as he slowly becomes a gibbering maniac.<br />VAKLEV: <br />WE’RE IN A HUMAN BODY! DO YOU HAVE ANY DEA HOW CRAZY THIS IS! I BLAME FRAZER! YOUR SCIENCE HAS TAKEN US TOO FAR!<br /><br />PANEL THREE: Toby is stood in a door way looking with shock at Dr Frazer’s dead body. Various medical tools stick out of his chest as blood glides across the floor.<br /><br />CAPTAIN (CAPTION):<br />BY THE SECOND MORNING THE PRESSURE OF THE OPERATION HAD BECOME TOO MUCH AND TRADGEDY STUCK.<br /><br />TOBY: HEY DOC IT’S TIME TO… OH MY GOD!<br /><br /><br />PANEL FOUR: Vaklev sits on tiny bed grimacing. He is handcuffed and in the back ground stands the Captain behind a laser fence.<br /><br />CAPTIAN (THOUGHT BOX):<br />I HAD NO CHOICE.<br /><br />CAPTAIN: <br />WHEN WE GET OUT OF HERE YOU’LL FACE TRIAL, TIL THEN ENJOY THE BRIG.<br /><br /> <br />PANEL FIVE: Exterior shot of the ship again. This time the wall of the vein is crashing into the side of the ship, cracking the hull.<br /><br />CAPTAIN(CAPTION):<br />DAY THREE BROUGHT MORE BAD NEW. AN INVOLUNTARY MUSCLE SPASM IN THE PATIENT CAUSED SERIOUS HULL DAMAGE. <br /><br /><br />PAGE FOUR<br /><br />PANEL ONE: The Captain and Jane have small jet packs and helmets on as they float outside the ship as they repair the damage. Toby is nowhere to be seen.<br />CAPTAIN: <br />SURE IS GOOD TO GET THE SHIP UP AND RUNNING AGAIN EH TOBY? TOBY<br /><br />PANEL TWO: The Captain stares with shock as Toby’s half dissolved corpse floats towards him. A white blood cell is attached to Toby and in the back ground we can see more approaching.<br /><br />CAPTAIN:<br />TOBY! NO!<br /><br />JANE (OFF): <br />CAPTAIN HELP!<br /><br />CAPTAIN (THOUGHT BOX): <br />WHITE BLOOD CELLS, THE BODIES DEFENCE SYSTEM, HAD DETECTED US AND WHERE TRYING TO GET RID OF US.<br /><br />PANEL THREE: The Captain grabs Jane as he kicks a white blood cell from her. Her clothes have been partially dissolved to make her even sexier.<br />CAPTAIN (THOUGHT BOX): THANKFULLY I WAS ABLE TO GET TO JANE BEFORE ANY REAL DAMAGE WAS CAUSED.<br /><br />CAPTAIN: OFF YOU BRUTE!<br /><br />JANE: OH MY!<br /><br />PANEL FOUR: Now inside the ship the Captain runs to the steering wheel as Jane pulls the hatch closed. <br />CAPTAIN:<br />LET’S GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!<br /><br />PANEL FIVE: The ship blasts away leaving the white blood cells reeling in its wake.<br /><br />PAGE FIVE<br />PANEL ONE: The Captain stands at the steering wheel. He steers with one hand and holds onto Jane with the other. She looks frightened whilst he has a look of steely determination.<br />CAPTAIN (THOUGHT BOX): <br />WE MANAGED TO GET AWAY MAKE IT TO THE CAUSE OF ALL THE PROBLEMS…<br /><br />JANE: <br />OH CAPTAIN, IT WAS SO HORRIBLE.<br /><br />CAPTAIN: <br />YOU’RE SAFE NOW.<br /><br />PANEL TWO: A shot of the Captain and Jane both looking shocked.<br />CAPTAIN: WHAT THE?<br /><br />JANE: GASP!<br /><br /><br />PANEL THREE: A big panel looking out of the main window of the ship, the captain is in the corner of the panel looking on in shock as we see another ship, crashed into the wall of a muscle. Some dark fluid leaks from it upward like smoke and its hazard lights are blinking. Outside the ship is a person in the jumpsuit waving at the ship as it arrives.<br /><br />CAPTAIN (THOUGHT BOX):<br />BUT NOW WE’VE ARRIVED, I HAVE TO WONDER, WAS IT WORTH IT?<br /><br />STRANDED PERSON:<br />OH HEY! OVER HERE! CAN YOU GUYS GIVE ME A LIFT?Rikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04295611102803376800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66542269949526939.post-55512662285693103442011-04-12T05:18:00.000-07:002011-04-12T05:20:38.421-07:00The Sorry entertainer and a new scriptHey hey, good news all, i got into the sorry entertainer anthology with my buddy jordan colver, you can donate to that bad boy here<br /><br />http://www.indiegogo.com/The-Sorry-Entertainer<br /><br />also heres a new story i just gon duns!<br /><br />SUPER TRAMPS<br /><br />PAGE ONE<br /><br />PANEL ONE: A long panel. At the left of it stand four Tramps huddled around a burning trash can in an alley way. We can see the wind blowing rubbish through the alley as the Tramps discuss their situation.<br />TRAMP ONE:<br />I TELL YA, IT’S THOSE CORPORATIONS. THEY’RE EVIL.EVER SINCE THE CORPORATE REVOLUTION THEY GET RICH AND WE GET POORER. <br /><br />TRAMP TWO:<br />FAT CHANCE.<br /><br />TRAMP THREE: <br />HEH.<br /><br />PANEL TWO: Just a shot of two of the tramps now, Tramp One is on the left still angry and still preaching to the others. Next to him another tramp who hasn’t spoken is bending down reaching for something.<br />TRAMP ONE: <br />IF I COULD I’D TAKE THEM BASTARDS DOWN. EVEN THE PLAYING FIELD FOR GUYS LIKE US Y’KNOW?<br /><br />BENDING TRAMP:<br />HEY GUYS LOOK AT THIS!<br /><br />PANEL THREE: we can see the hand of the tramp holding a flier, at the top of which is a logo for Zeus Biotech. The flier reads as following.<br />FLIER: URGENT: FIVE VOLUNTEERS NEEDED FOR EXPERIMENTAL RESEARCH. ALL WILL BE CONSIDERED. REMUNERATION OF 10,000 CREDITS FOR EACH PARTICIPANT. REPORT TO THE ZEUS BIOTECH. MENGELE STREET.<br /><br />PANEL FOUR: The Bending Tramp on the right of the panel looks over to Tramp One on the left. The both have smiles on their faces.<br />BENDING TRAMP: <br />WHADDYA THINK?<br /><br />TRAMP ONE: <br />WELL, MAYBE THEY ARENT ALL THAT BAD.<br /><br />BENDING TRAMP: <br />HEH HEH.<br /><br /><br />PAGE TWO<br /><br />PANEL ONE: The four tramps stand in a line in a hospital ward as in the background as Doctor walks past them in the foreground dictating. He holds a clipboard out in front of him.<br />DOCTOR: <br />BY SIGNING THESE CONSENT FORMS YOU RELEASE ZEUS BIOTECH OF ANY RESPONSIBILITIES REGARDING SIDE EFFECTS AND AGREE TO UNDERGO EXPERIMENTAL GENE THERAPY...<br /><br />PANEL TWO: Frontal view of the Doctor holding out the clip board as a filthy, ragged hand reaches out towards it.<br />DOCTOR: ALL TO THE SUM OF 10,000 CREDITS OF COURSE.<br /><br />PANEL THREE: Tramp One is now in a medical gown tilting his head and gurning as the Doctor, who is stood behind him, administers an injection to his neck.<br /><br />CAPTION: <br />MEDICAL REPORT: <br />THREATMENT BEGINS. PHASE ONE. CROMOSONAL RECONSTRUCTIVE BIO-MITES ADMINISTERED INTRAVENOUSLY.<br /><br />TRAMP ONE: <br />UUNG! THINK ABOUT THE MONEY, THINK ABOUT THE MONEY.<br /><br />PANEL FOUR: Another tramp lies on a slab with metallic arcs placed over various parts of his body. The arc project a series of green lights over his body.<br />CAPTION: <br />PHASE TWO. ADMINISTRATION OF NEO-GENIC RADIATION. NOW WE WAIT.<br /><br />TRAMP TWO: <br />WHOA, TRIPPY!<br /><br />PANEL FIVE: One of the tramps, whilst sat in a bed, violently vomits to the side. He looks pained and is starting to turn a funny colour.<br />CAPTION:<br />INITIAL SIDE EFFECTS INCLUDE NAUSEA, VOMITING AND DISCOLOURATION OF THE SKIN.<br /><br />BENDING TRAMP: HUURRHHGG!<br /><br /><br />PAGE THREE<br /><br />PANEL ONE: A frontal shot of one of Tramp Three looking at himself in the mirror. He touches his cheek as blood begins to stream from his eyes, nose and mouth.<br />CAPTION: <br />MEDICAL REPORT: DAY THREE. SIDE EFFECTS HAVE WORSENED. THE PATIENTS HAVE BEGUN TO BLEED FROM FACIAL ORRIFICES.<br /><br />TRAMP THREE:<br />OH MAN ...COUGH! COUGH!<br /><br />PANEL TWO: Tramp One is laid in his bed. He has become wraith like. His medical gown is baggy over his now skeletal frame and his eyes are sunken into his head.<br />CAPTION:<br />MEDICAL REPORT: DAY FOUR. THE PATIENT HAVE GOTTEN WORSE. I FEAR THAT THEY WON’T MAKE IT THROUGH THE NIGHT<br /><br />PANEL THREE: Tramp One is stood at the foot of his bed. He has made a full recovery and even better he has grown into a Greek god of a man. He is shirtless and flexing his powerful arms. The Doctor looks on smiling as he scribbles on his clipboard.<br />CAPTION:<br />AND ON THE FIFTH DAY, A MAN CREATED GODS.<br /><br />DOCTOR: <br />HOW ARE YOU FEELING?<br /><br />TRAMP ONE:<br />ARE YOU KIDDING? GREAT!<br /><br />PANEL FOUR: A few of the tramps stand around lifting dumbbells whilst the Bending Tramp lifts an absolutely huge barbell over his head with ease.<br />CAPTION:<br />THE SUBJECTS HAVE MADE AN ASTOUNDING RECOVERY AND BETTER YET THE TREATMENT WAS A SUCCESS. WE’VE PRODUCED SUPERHUMAN LIMITS IN STRENGTH...<br /><br />BENDING TRAMP:<br />999,1000. GEEZ DOC HAVEN’T YOU GOT ANYTHING A LITTLE HEAVIER. THIS IS TOO EASY.<br /><br />PANEL FIVE: Tramp One runs on a treadmill with various sensors attached to his chest. The Doctor stands behind him, once again scribbling on his clipboard and smiling.<br />CAPTION:<br />AS WELL AS SPEED AND ENDURANCE.<br /><br />TRAMP ONE:<br />WHAT’S MY TIME DOC?<br /><br />DOCTOR:<br />YOU’VE JUST RAN A MARATHON IN UNDER AN HOUR.<br /><br />TRAMP ONE:<br />THAT GOOD?<br /><br />DOCTOR:<br />THE WORLD RECORD WAS A LITTLE OVER TWO HOURS.<br /><br /><br />PAGE FOUR<br /><br /><br /><br />PANEL ONE: The Doctor stands addressing the now Super Tramps. They each hold those miniature cups that pills are distributed in; some of them have the cups held to their mouths as the swallow the content.<br />CAPTION:<br />MEDICAL REPORT: PHASE THREE. FINAL ORAL ADMINSTRATION.<br /><br />DOCTOR:<br />AS YOU CAN SEE THE TREATMENT HAS BEEN A RESOUNDING SUCCESS. CONGRATULATIONS, YOU’RE THE WORLDS FIRST SUPER HUMANS.<br /><br />PANEL TWO: Tramp One, smiling happily shakes the hand of the Doctor eagerly.<br />TRAMP ONE:<br />THIS IS GREAT DOC WE’VE BEEN TALKING AND WE’VE COME UP WITH AN IDEA.<br /><br />PANEL THREE: The four tramps stand together smiling, looking heroic and bold as they tell the Doctor their plans for the future. Except for bending Tramp who is stood at the end of the group with one hand resting on his stomach as he frowns.<br />TRAMP ONE:<br />YA SEE, WE COME FROM NOTHING AND NOW WE’RE LIKE THIS. IT’D SEEM IRRISPONSIBLE TO WASTE SUCH A GIFT. SO WE’VE DECIDED THAT WE’RE GONNA FIGHT IN JUSTICE IN THIS WORLD WHEREVER WE FIND IT.<br /><br />PANEL FOUR: The Doctor looks down as he wipes his glasses on his lab coat. He is totally unshaken by the ridiculous news he has just received.<br />DOCTOR:<br />FIGHTING CRIME? OH MY THAT DOES SOUND EXCITING.<br /><br />PANEL FIVE: Tramp One tries to force a smile as a pain kicks in his stomach. He put one hand to his stomach.<br />TRAMP ONE:<br />YEAH...OOOH, I MUST BE HUNGRY, WE’RE THE WORLDS FIRST SUPER HEROES.<br /><br />PAGE FIVE<br /><br />PANEL ONE: The Super Tramps all begin to hold onto their stomachs in agony. Their faces contorted in pain.<br />BENDING TRAMP:<br />URG! HEY DOC, SOMETHINGS GOING WRONG. MY STOMACH HURTS REAL BAD.<br /><br />PANEL TWO: Shot of the Doctor as he holds his glasses up to light to clean them. He is calm and reserved, indifferent to the pleas of the Super Tramps.<br /><br />DOCTOR:<br />I ASSURE YOU NOTHING IS WRONG. THAT LAST DOSAGE WAS POISON. YOU SEE ZEUS BIOTECH IS A GLOBAL CORPORATION AND LEADER IN BIOLOGICAL WEAPONS RESEARCH.<br /><br />PANEL THREE: A big panel. In the foreground the Doctor has turned his back on the Super Tramps and begins to walk away smiling sinisterly whilst in the back ground the Tramps coil over in pain as they begin to die.<br /><br />TRAMP ONE:<br />WHA... URK!<br /><br />TRAMP TWO:<br />AHH! GURGLE!<br /><br />DOCTOR: AND WE CAN’T JUST HAVE OUR NEWEST PRODUCT RUNNING AROUND STOPPING CRIMINALS, DESPOTS AND VILLAINS. AFTERALL, WITH THEM ALL GONE, WHO WOULD WE EVER SELL OUR WEAPONS TO?Rikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04295611102803376800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66542269949526939.post-69457343698940460482011-03-10T09:54:00.001-08:002011-03-10T09:54:20.112-08:00ABDUCTION<span xmlns=''><p>Last story today. I'm knackered!<br /></p><p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>ABDUCTION<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PAGE ONE<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL ONE</span>: A spaceship floating above a strange green planet. We are not in our solar system.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>CAPTION<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>WHERE AM I?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL TWO</span>: A view from above a alien strapped to a table. The alien looks simple and harmless. No fang or claws. Completely inoffensive. Clad in terribly tacky sci-fi–esque clothing, complete with hops or raise shoulder guards. What the sci-fi writers of the sixties assume we'd be wearing. A human scientist stands over the subject.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>ALIEN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><WHAT THE HELL KIND CRITTER ARE YOU?><br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>SCIENTIST<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>XENO RESEARCH LOG XR-92. SUBJECT EXTRACTED FROM DESIGNATION MAGNUS V IN THE ROTHLOK SECTOR.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL THREE</span>: robotic arms begin to strip the alien as the as the scientist walks around his subject. He look down at the increasingly naked alien analysing its clothing. The alien is expected uncomfortable with being restrained and striped.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>ALIEN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><HEY! WHAT'S GOING ON?><br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>SCIENTIST<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>CLOTHING IS LOWEST QUALITY. MADE FROM SIMPLE MATERIALS. AND IF I'M HONEST, INCREDIBLY GARISH.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FOUR</span>: Frontal of the scientist holding an alien gun inspecting it carefully. It's pretty simple looking affair, basically a double barrel shot gun with sci-fi doodads attached.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>SCIENTIST<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>CRUDE BALLAISTIC WEAPONRY. COMBINED WITH THE CLOTHING I SAY THEY HAVE LOW LEVEL TECHNOLOGY. LIKELYHOOD OF SOPHISTICATED MILITARY: LOW.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>ALIEN (OFF)<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><OUCH! DARN CONTRAPTION!><br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FIVE</span>: The scientist is holding up a scan of the alien's brain to the light.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>SCIENTIST<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>BRAIN SCANS INDICATE LACK OF PROBLEM SOLIVING SKILLS, DEVELOPED LANGUAGE AND HIGHER BRAIN FUNCTIONS.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center; margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE TWO<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL ONE</span>: The alien is being held up by the robot arms in a spotlight. The arms and legs spread and the alien looks incredibly nervous. The scientist stands beind him snapping on a rubber glove. He has a sinister smile on his face.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>SCIENTIST<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>IN SUMMARY, AN INVASION OF MAGNUS V WILL BE MET WITH MINIMAL OR POOR RESISTANCE. NOW, THE RECTAL EXAMINATION.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>ALIEN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><ULP!><br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL TWO</span>: An armoured hand projects a hologram of a newspaper. On the front of it is the abducted alien with the headline "I WAS ABDUCTED BY ALIENS!"<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>PROFESSOR (OFF)<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><TUT><br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL THREE</span>: On the left of the panel is an alien, professor, similar to the one we just saw victimised except this one is in incredibly cool and advance battle armour. The hand of which is still projecting the newspaper. The helmet of the suit is raised so we can see that this alien is the same species as the abducted on. On the right is another armoured alien but his helmet is up. In the background we can see a massive and brilliant city.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>PROFESSOR<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><HONESTLY, HOW COME ITS ONLY EVER THESE BACKWATER HICKS THAT GET ABDUCTED? ALIENS? PAH!><br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>HELMET ALIEN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><LUNATICS. WE SHOULD BE GETTING BACK TO THE BASE FOR THE DEBRIEF ON THE NEW CHRONAL DISPLACEMENT WEAPONS AND TELEPATH ARMOUR.><br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>PROFESSOR<br /></span></p><p><RIGHT YOU ARE. LETS GO.></p></span>Rikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04295611102803376800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66542269949526939.post-72242875202097334012011-03-10T08:43:00.001-08:002011-03-10T08:43:13.546-08:00Donation<span xmlns=''><p>Despite this story I still think everyone should be an organ doner<br /></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>DONATION<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PAGE ONE<br /></span></p><p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL ONE</span>: Close up of a gurney as it smashes through a set of hospital doors being pushed by a paramedic and a nurse. The paramedic is obviously panic stricken. The patient on the gurney has an oxygen mask on but is passed out.<br /></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>PARAMEDIC<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>THIS IS A CODE RED! WE NEED A CRASH TEAM STAT!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL TWO</span>: Mid level shot of a doctor pressing down on the chest of the man. His sleeves are rolled up and his collar is undone as he desperately tried to save the man. Next to him the cardiograph has done flat as nurses rush around attempting to help with drips and various medical paraphernalia. <br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>DOCTOR<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>DAMMIT!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL THREE</span>: The doctor stands in a hall way talking to a woman and child. The woman and holds the child tightly to her side, her other hand covers her mouth as she starts to sob. The doctor arms are open in a kind manner as he explains the death of her husband.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>DOCTOR<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>..AS YOU KNOW HE WAS AN ORGAN DONNER. SOMEONE WE COME TO HELP YOU MAKE ARRANGEMNTS FOR THE REMAINS. I'M SORRY FOR YOU LOSS.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FOUR</span>: Side view of the naked body as it lies on the slab in the mortuary. The mortician snaps on a rubber glove before he begins the procedure. We can see that the chest cavity is already opened.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>MORTICIAN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>RIGHT LETS GET THESE OUT OF YOU. IT ALL GOES TO A GOOD CAUSE AFTERALL.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center; margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE TWO<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>PANEL ONE: a pair of hands places the intestines onto hanging scales, they're healthy looking so far as intestines go.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>MORTICIAN (OFF)<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>THEY LOOK GREAT.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>PANEL TWO: Same again but this time with lungs<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>MORTICIAN (OFF)<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>THEIR FANTASTIC.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>PANEL THREE: Once more but with a heart.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>MORTICIAN (OFF)<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>AND THAT'S JUST PERFECT.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>PANEL FOUR: The mortician places the heart into a medical ice box, its full with ice.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>MORTICIAN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>RIGHT. YOU EXPECTED SO WE BETTER GET A MOVE ONE.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>PANEL FIVE: A view of the mortician as he opens a door labelled private. It quite obviously not in the morgue any more as the walls are the usual dull hallway found in hospitals. The mortician is carrying the ice box as he enters.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE THREE<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>PANEL ONE: A simple view of the ice box resting on the floor with the lid off. The ice remains but the heart is no longer inside the box.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>PANEL TWO: Shot of a mortician's left hand old the heart tightly.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>MORTICIAN (OFF)<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>AND WITH THIS HEART...<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>PANEL THREE: Shot of the mortician's right hand holding a sacrificial dagger.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>MORTICIAN (OFF)<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>WITH THIS SACRAFICE...<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>PANEL FOUR: The reveal. The mortician is stood with his back to the reader. The heart and dagger raised high to a massive C'thulhu statue. It's eyes staring at the reader and its tentacles spilling all over the panel.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>MORTICIAN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>I INVOKE YOUR NAME AND RAISE YOU FROM YOUR SUNKEN CITY MY DARK LORD.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><br /> </span> </p></span>Rikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04295611102803376800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66542269949526939.post-63607923275756213882011-03-10T07:04:00.001-08:002011-03-10T07:04:56.914-08:00Plagued<span xmlns=''><p>A little one page story for y'all. enjoy<br /></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PLAGUED<br /></span></p><p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL ONE</span>: A close up of zombies rotted, drooping head. The eyes are white and glassy. The face is gaunt and tight as if starving. Whatever hair that is left on the head is thinning and tattered. Blood is splattered around the mouth, the signature of the shamblers last victim.<br /></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>CAPTION<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>WE THOUGHT THEY WERE ALL GONE.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL TWO</span>: A shot of the upper half of a group of zombies, walking dead style the shamble toward the reader. They are all gaunt and decrepit but largely intact save for a few cuts and blood splats.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>CAPTION<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>SOMEHOW THEY CAME BACK. STRONGER. MORE DETERMINED.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL THREE</span>: Shot of the legs and feet of the zombies. Enough to make them look numerous. Some are barefoot, some are tattered, basically a collection of about four separate pairs of legs.<br /></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>CAPTION<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>THEY HUNTED US DOWN.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FOUR</span>: A shot of a zombie curled over on the floor in agony. Holding his ribs as he vomits blood violently.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>CAPTION<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>THEY FORCED US TO CHANGE.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>ZOMBIE<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>URRGGGHH!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FIVE</span>: The crouched over zombie is now a human, staring at his hands in disbelief at his recovery. His skin colour has returned to normal and is eyes have regained their colour.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>CAPTION<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>ONCE THE CHANGE STARTS IT CANNOT BE STOPPED.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>EX-ZOMBIE<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>WHA..?HOW?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL SIX</span>: A group of humans in hazmat suits and body armour are firing dart guns into mob of fleeing zombies. Some have needles in them and are mid change, reverting back to human form. Some have fully. The humans are ruthlessly "saving" the zombies.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>HAZMAT LEADER<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>GET EVERY LAST ONE BOYS, WE CAN SAVE THESE POOR BASTARDS.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>CAPTION<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>THEY CANNOT BE STOPPED.<br /></span></p></span>Rikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04295611102803376800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66542269949526939.post-86859308846500000232011-03-03T05:26:00.000-08:002011-03-03T05:31:30.842-08:00UpcomingHey hey, i'm up to 5 followers, crazy times! anyway i've got two little piece in the works that i will post in the upcoming weeks, the first is a 5 pager sci-fi parody of "The fantastic Voyage2 the second is a short about a victorian monster hunter and his battle with sasquatch. The latter is almost a comission in the sense that its a reason for my buddy to draw big foot (whom he loves ) alot. <br /><br />Also i'm looking forward to Strip Magazine coming up. Seems like the UK is really starting a new comics movement. In a Addition to which, Mr jordan Collver and I are starting our own small press magazine and looking for contributors. Feel free to drop me an e-mail if you want to submit at rikcw@hotmail.co.ukRikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04295611102803376800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66542269949526939.post-64146227239255318012011-02-22T09:29:00.001-08:002011-02-22T09:29:39.867-08:00Sorry entertainer submission<span xmlns=''><p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>This </span>is my submission for the sorry entertainer small press zine. The idea is that you read around the page with panels 1-3 reflecting 6-4 like a playing card. Hopefully it'll sneak its way in and if I'm allowed I'll throw up the eventual finished piece. Same goes for the Land of All Sorts story. They'll currently in submission limbo. If they get published I'll let you know where to read them, if not I'll throw them on here. It's been a while since my last post but I'm planning on trying to get more scripts up on here for potential artists to see. Hope you enjoy.<br /></p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>SLEIGHT OF HAND<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center'>By<br /></p><p style='text-align: center'>RICHARD WORTH<br /></p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL ONE<br /></span></p><p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Foreground</span>: The Magician sits slumped at the bar to the right of the panel. His forearms crossed with a glass of whiskey in his visible hand. He looks at the reader with sullen eyes. His bowtie is draped around his neck and one of his cuff shirt cuffs are open whilst his top hat sits crookedly on his head. He is the guy nobody wants to talk to in the bar. Next to him further towards the middle of the panel (the magicians right) is a bottle of whiskey.<br /></p><p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Background</span>: A classic theatre stage with heavy curtains parted. The stage is relatively small and on stands The Magician as small boy. His top hat is falling down over his face as he tries to hold it up. His tuxedo is far too big for him and the hidden cards and flowers are popping out of his pockets and spilling on the floor. A white Rabbit makes it escape from him.<br /></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>CAP<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>WHEN I FIRST STARTED IT WAS DIFFERENT Y'KNOW? EVEN AS A KID A MAGICIAN WAS ALL I EVER WANTED TO BE.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL TWO<br /></span></p><p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Foreground</span>: The Magician explodes suddenly with enthusiasm for his story, knocking over the whiskey bottle as he does. Whiskey spills from both the bottle and his glass. His arms are open in pleading explanation.<br /></p><p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Background</span>: A younger version on the magician stages on the stage, he now has a fitting tuxedo but perhaps no moustache. He stands proudly with his head held high his arms wide open blowing kisses to his unseen audience.<br /></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>CAP<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>AND I GOT GOOD. I GOT RESPECT. THE CROWD LOVED ME! WHEN THE CROWD LOVES YOU, THATS WHEN YOU GET THE MONEY!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL THREE<br /></span></p><p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Foreground</span>: The Magician calms himself but is still open armed. Stan (the bar man) arm enters from the left of the panel to wipe up the spilled booze.<br /></p><p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Background</span>: The young magician stands as a beautiful assist begins to drape herself all over his body. He has a gleeful, mischievous smile.<br /></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>CAP<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>WITH THE MONEY COMES THE GIRLS. THE THINGS I COULD TELL YOU ABOUT THE GIRLS. YEAH THE GIRL.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FOUR <br /></span></p><p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Foreground</span>: Back to the panel one style. The magician is quiet, introverted and closed off again. But this time his face is tight and cruel. The whisky bottle has been placed in its original position again.<br /></p><p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Background</span>: Conversely the Young magician is smiling as he pulls up his sleeve to reveal nothing at all. <br /></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>CAP<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>THE BEST TRICK IS MAKING YOU THINK MAGIC IS REAL. BUT IT ISNT. THERES NO MAGIC. NO REAL MAGIC.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FIVE<br /></span></p><p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Foreground</span>: Panel two imitation but his hands are elaborately making "mystical" signs and the Magician leans back in his chair, arching his back to develop his sorcery.<br /></p><p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Background</span>: The magician is producing suddenly has produced three doves flying away from him.<br /></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>CAP<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>I MEAN IF MAGIC WHERE REAL, I MEAN PROPERLY REAL. I COULD FILL UP THIS GLASS WITH EVER TOUCHING THAT BOTTLE.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL SIX<br /></span></p><p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Foreground</span>: The Magician is deadpan. Stan's hand once again comes from the left of the panel to top up his drink.<br /></p><p><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Background</span>: The Magician takes a dramatic bow at the end of his performance.<br /></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>CAP(STAN)<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>THERE YOU GO.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>CAP<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>THANKS.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p></span>Rikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04295611102803376800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66542269949526939.post-24297685822006044612010-08-25T02:24:00.001-07:002010-08-25T02:28:09.889-07:00“Hunter” for CLiNT<span xmlns=''><p>Hey, another story here. This is your basic Future Shock sci-fi twist story, perfect for CLiNT space oddities. It's only a three page story and admittedly the subject matter may be a bit dodgy but give it a chance, any ways hope you enjoy. <br /></p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>HUNTERS<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center; margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE ONE<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel One:</span> A huge sweaty man sits at a desk surrounded by half empty pizza boxes, crisp packets and other assorted food goods. He bulges out of his clothes as he types away at a computer with a devious smile on his face.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>GARY<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>REAL NAME'S GARY BUT ON THE PRINCESS-WORLD FORUMS I'M BETTER KNOWN AS "STAR-GIRL". WAS GONNA GO WITH "STR-GRL" BUT THAT LOOKS TOO MUCH LIKE STRUGGLE.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Two:</span> a close up shot of the fat man from the waist up. He has a pimply with pubic facial hair sprouting out randomly. He wears round spectacles that give him the look of a sinister scientist, albeit a fat one. His ill-fitting t-shirt is covered in stains from his fast food diet and has the words "It's not fat, it's just more to love" hilariously written on it.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>GARY<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>YOU GOTTA THINK ABOUT THESE KINDA THING SEE, 'SPECIALLY IF YOU'RE GOING HUNTING.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Three:</span> An internet chat room. The text reads as so.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center; margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>STAR-GIRL<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'> I LIKE HER 2. WATS UR FAV SONG?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center; margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>LIL-PRINCESS<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>BEST OF BOTH WRLDS. I WISH I WAS AS KOOL AS HER.<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>STAR-GIRL<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New'>U R KOOL </span><span style='font-family:Wingdings'>JJJ</span><span style='font-family:Courier New'><br /> </span></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>LIL-PRINCESS<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>:D HEHE. UR THE BEST!!! DO U THINK HANNAH WILL GET WIV JOSH SOON, HE IS HOT!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>STAR-GIRL<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>LOLZ. THAT WUD BE SOOOOOOO COOL. LOL<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Four:</span> Frontal view of an innocent little girl with pigtails and big eyes. The most adorable little girl ever conceived basically.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>GARY<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>THAT'S WHERE I MET "LIL-PRINCESS". HER REAL NAMES SARAH, MY REAL NAME IS "CHRISTINA" HEHEHE. <br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Five:</span> view of the little girl sat at a desk, her legs dangling from the chair as she types away at her computer. Her room is adorned with flowers and posters of the Hannah Montana like pop stars and kittens and such.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>GARY<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>SWEET KID REALLY. SHE LIKES KITTENS AND MUSIC AND SOMEDAY WANTS TO BE AN ASTRONAUT. I HAD TO HAVE HER.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center; margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE TWO<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel One:</span> More chat room dialogue.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>STAR-GIRL<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>UR LIKE MY BF SARAH. WANT 2 MEET UP OR SOMETHING?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>LIL-PRINCESS<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>I DONT KNOW CHRISSY, I'M NOT SURE MUM WOULD LET ME COME 2 UR HOUSE. GRR! :@<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>STAR-GIRL<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>SHE JUST LUKING AFTER U. WAT ABOUT THE PARK? THERE WUD B OVA PPL THERE.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>LIL-PRINCESS<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New'>THAT SOUND GR8! </span><span style='font-family:Wingdings'>J</span><span style='font-family:Courier New'><br /> </span></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Two:</span> In the foreground we can see the back of the fat man, he wears a long Mac but we can see naked legs popping out of the bottom. In the background the little girl sits on a bench facing away from the reader looking around.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>GARY<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>YOU HAVE TO CAREFUL TRYING TO GET THEM TO MEET YOU SEE. NOT ONLY ARE THEY CAUTIOUS YOU HAVE TO MAKE SURE NO OUTSIDERS CATCH ON.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Three:</span> Almost a reverse of the previous panel. The Little girl is now in the foreground looking around innocently whilst in the back ground the sinister fat man approaches.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>GARY<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>THE CLIMAX CAN BE THE HARDEST. YOU'VE GOT TO MAKE SURE NOT TO GIVE THE GAME AWAY TIL THE LAST SECOND. THE LAST THING YOU NEED IS A CHASE.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Four:</span> The fat man now stands opposite the little girl. She looks up to him with wide eyes as he stands with his hands in his pockets.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>FATMAN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>CHRISTINA? SARAH SENT ME TO GET YOU?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>LITTLE GIRL<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>OH. I THINK THERES BEEN A MISUNDERSTANDING.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Five:</span> A frontal view of the little girl. She is smiling. Her eyes have become cat like and in the corners of her mouth we can see little tentacles.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>LITTLE GIRL<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>MY NAME ISN'T CHRISTINA OR STAR GIRL. IT'S GARY<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE THREE<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel One:</span> A large Panel. The little girl's mouth is now open past human capacity, as barbed, toothed tentacles fly out and begin to wrap around the fat man's body leg, arms and mouth. He has a desperate look in his eyes as he tries to flee in vain. His Mac is now open to reveal that he is just in his under wear.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Two.</span> Close up of the little girl face with the tentacles bringing the fat man's head closer to her mouth.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>GARY<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>GETTING EVERYTHING RIGHT ON WHILST HUNTING CAN BE TRICKY, BUT WHEN YOU GET IT RIGHT IT'S WORTH THE EFFORT.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Three</span>: In the foreground we see the fat man's spectacles and Mac on the floor, in the background the little girl skips of merrily.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>GARY<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>BON APPETIT.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>THE END.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><br /> </span> </p></span>Rikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04295611102803376800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66542269949526939.post-69319668033946129632010-08-23T04:52:00.001-07:002010-08-23T04:52:26.192-07:001/5<span xmlns=''><p>This is the script for the first part of a five part story I'm producing called "Circus" with a Canadian artist called Anthony Healy. Art should be on its way soon.<br /></p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>Circus<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center; margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>PART ONE: COME ONE, COME ALL<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center; margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE ONE<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel One:</span> A spotlight shines on a single figure, Mr Ghede. A black ringmaster clad in classic attire he is skinny and tall with dreadlocks rolling down from beneath his top hat. He wears a devilish smile as he stand with his arms open wide as if to display the darkness that surrounds him.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>MR GHEDE<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>LADIES AND GENTLEMEN YOU ARE HERE TONIGHT BECAUSE YOU DARE TO BE CHALLENGED. YOU ARE PIONEERS, EXPLORERS OF THE REALMS OF REALITY AND SANITY. TONIGHT YOU WILL SEE THINGS THAT MORTALS ARE NEVER MEANT TO SEE, PAST THE MASQUERADE OF NORMALITY INTO THE REALMS OF THE STRANGE AND MYSTERIOUS. WELCOME ONE AND ALL...<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Two:</span> View from the top of the tent. The lights have come up and we can now see the circus in full swing. Mr Ghede stands in the centre of the ring looking upwards. Harlequins swings from high wires whilst jesters frolic around the ring. Magicians stand on pillars directing the chaos like generals spouting cards, doves and wands. Elephants rear up at the back off the ring whilst musicians pound massive drums rhythmically. <br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>MR GHEDE<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>TO MR GHEDE'S CIRCUS OF MARVELS AND MAGIC!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Three:</span> A side view of Mr Ghede still addressing his audience, around him gymnasts cartwheel and the celebrations continue. We can now see the members of the audience, in the centre sits Nathan Andrews and his twin children Thomas and Bethany. Nathan is dressed in sensible clothes for cold weather, as are his children. Nathan has his arms around the two smiling happily as the two children look on in amazement.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>MR GHEDE<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>IT IS MY PLEASURE TO INTRODUCE TO YOU "THE HARLEQUINS OF BABYLONIA". <br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Four:</span> Nathan and his children leave are leaving the circus tent. The circus is still going on inside and light pours out of the entrance. The circus tent itself is a dark midnight blue with arcane stars and moons adoring it. Thomas sits on his father's shoulders point to the distance whilst Bethany holds onto his hand attempting to drag him towards her goal. Nathan smiles despite being dragged in opposite directions.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>THOMAS<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>I WANNA GO SEE THE HAUNTED HOUSE OR THE LION TAMER. NO NO WAIT THE LIZARD MAN!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>BETHANY<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>THOSE ARE BOYS THINGS; I WANT TO SEE THE DANCERS!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>NATHAN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>DONT WORRY YOU TWO WE'VE GOT ALL NIGHT, QUIT PULLING ME ABOUT.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Five:</span> Nathan stands transfixed at a wooden caravan. On the side of the caravan the words "Diotima: Mistress of the Fortunes" is written is fading red paint. The children continue pulling their father frowning at his decision.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>NATHAN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>HEY LETS CHECK THIS OUT. WADDYA SAY?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>BETHANY<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>BUT WERE GONNA MISS THE DANCERS!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>THOMAS <br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>AWW DAD THAT'S ALL JUST FOOEY!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>NATHAN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>C'MON YOU GUYS. IT'LL BE FUN TO KNOW THE FUTURE. MAYBE I'LL WIN THE LOTTERY AND I CAN QUIT MY JOB HUH, SPEND MORE TIME WITH YOU.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE TWO<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel One:</span> Interior of the caravan. The creaking wooden shelves are cluttered with various arcane trinkets. On one of the lower shelves sits a wooden Jester, as with the rest of the caravan, the Jester is worse for wear with chipped and faded paint. Nathan is entering the caravan, pushing away the clothe that passed for a door. He is hunched over looking politely to find the inhabitants. His children stand by his side looking bored and unpleased with his decision.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>NATHAN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>HELLO? ANYBODY IN HERE?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>DIOTIMA (OFF)<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>ENTER OFFICER ANNDREWS. I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Two:</span> View from behind the family now. Nathan has moved deeper into the caravan and now stands at a table holding the hands of his children who look over their shoulders curiously at the Jester who has now become animated ad is cheerfully strolling out of the caravan. Nathan, not noticing the puppet, keeps looking at Doitima, an elderly and frail women in lose draping clothes that her face can barely been seen through.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>NATHAN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>HOW DID YOU...<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>THOMAS<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>ER DAD?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center; margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>NATHAN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>ONE MINUTE TOM, HOW DID YOU KNOW I WAS A COP?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>DIOTIMA<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>YOUR PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE ARE BUT THREADS THE TAPESTRY OF YOUR LIFE NATHAN. I SIMPLY PICK AT THE THREADS I WANT TO FOLLOW.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Three:</span> Nathan stands with a look of confusion on his face transfixed on Diotima, who proceeds to play the tarot card; the Hermit. Thomas has released his father's hand and has begun to make his way to the caravan door. Bethany watches him leave over her shoulder with a look of concern on her face.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>BETHANY<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>DAD THOMAS...<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>NATHAN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>HOLD ON HONEY. WHAT IS THIS?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>DIOTIMA<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>SHALL WE START? "THE HERMIT REVERSED". AN ACT OF PAST WEAKNESS LEADING TO YOUR CURRENT STATE. GREED?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Four:</span> a view from the door way as Bethany stand momentarily to look back at her father before she tries to retrieve her brother. In the background the reading continues. Nathan hasn't noticed the children leaving him but is now paying close attention to the seer.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>NATHAN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>I DONT KNOW WHAT YOUR TALKING ABOUT.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>DIOTIMA<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>PERHAPS THE NEXT CARD WILL SHED SOME REVELATIONS.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Five:</span> a long shot. In the foreground we see the Jester still happily marching. Behind him Thomas is making ground and still further behind him Bethany has begun pursuit. The light from the caravan floods out into the now empty fairground.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>JESTER<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>DO-DO-DO-DAH, DAH-DO-DE<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>THOMAS<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>HEY WAIT UP MR CLOWN!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE THREE<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel One:</span> Inside the caravan the reading continues. Diotima sits at her table presenting the cards to Nathan, her arm gliding through the air as she does. On the table we can see the Hermit, and Chariot cards with the deck remaining to on her right facedown.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>DIOTIMA<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>THE PRESENT. "THE CHARIOT REVERSED". A MISSUSE OF POWERS AND TALENTS. IS THERE SOMETHING YOU'RE NOT TELLING YOUR SUPERIORS OFFICER?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>NATHAN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>HOW'D? LISTEN LADY I DONT KNOW WHAT YOUR TRYING TO IMP BUT STOP IT.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Two:</span> The Jester has ceased his march and stands on the right of the panel. He leans with on foot forward, a hand resting on his hip and the other hand offered out in explanation. Opposite him stands Bethany whilst Thomas crouches, they both have inquisitive looks on their faces.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>BETHANY<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>ARE YOU MAGIC MR CLOWN?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>THOMAS<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>DONT BE STUPID, THERES NO SUCH THING!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>JESTER<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>FIRSTLY MY NAME IS VIVERE, BUT YOU CAN CALL ME VERE. AND SECONDLY YOUNG SQUIRE, IF THERES NO SUCH THING AS MAGIC HOW IM I TALKING AND WALKING.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>THOMAS<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>IT MUST BE A TRICK!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>JESTER<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>HAHA! MOST INTUITIVE ALAS INCORRECT. WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE HOW MAGIC REALLY WORKS?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Three:</span> Nathan, on the right of the panel now stands with a scornful look at the seer, shrugging his shoulders at her divinations. Diotima continues the reading despite his protests.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>DOITIMA<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>"JUDGEMENT" YOU WILL FACE A TEST, A CHALLENGE.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>NATHAN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>REALLY? A CHALLENGE IN MY FUTURE? NOT EXACTLY NOSTRADAMUS. <br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>DIOTIMA<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>THIS CARD IS NOT YOU FUTURE, IT IS YOUR PRESENT.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>NATHAN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>WHATEVER. WE'RE OUT OF HERE.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>DIOTIMA<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>"WE"? IT WOULD APPEAR YOUR CHILDREN HAVE ALREADY BEEN TAKEN OFFICER.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Four:</span> In the foreground Bethany looks back towards the caravan off panel, whilst in the back ground Thomas and the Jester have begun to walk in the direction of more circus attractions. Bethany looks apprehensive at following them but can't resist the opportunity.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>JESTER<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>THIS WAY MY YOUNG WARDS. OFF TO SEE THE ALVISIO, FELLOW OF WITCHCRAFT AND MAGICIAN EXTRAORDINAIRE.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>BETHANY<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>HEY WAIT UP YOU TWO!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Five:</span> Nathan angrily grabs on the table baring his teeth at Diotima, still unfazed his indicates with her hand to the general direction of the Big Top tent. All three cards can now be seen on the table.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>NATHAN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>WHERE ARE THEY?!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>DIOTIMA<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>THE TEST BEGINS. YOU WILL HAVE TO OVERCOME YOUR OWN SELFISHNESS TO SAVE YOUR CHILDREN.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>NATHAN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>GODDAMMIT! TELL ME WITCH!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>DIOTIMA<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>YOU CHALLENGE BEGINS IN THE BIG TOP. GHEDE AWAITS YOU THERE.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE FOUR<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel One:</span> Nathan stands at the entrance of the Big Top. He stands legs apart ready for action. His face is keen and sterns<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>MR GHEDE (OFF)<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>AHH OUR BRAVE CHAMPION ARRIVES TO FACE THE EVILS OF GHEDE.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Two:</span> Nathan springs forward with arms outstretched from the left to the right of the panel his face contorted in rage. Mr Ghede stands opposite, leaning nonchalantly on a cane whilst inspecting his fingernails. His attire is similar to previous except his jacket and hats are now white, and his faces has white skull painted onto his face. <br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>NATHAN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>WHERE ARE THEY YOU BASTARD!?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>MR GHEDE<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>THE CHILDREN ARE FREE FROM HARM.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Three:</span> Nathan is crashing into the floor face first, he body lifting up the sand on the centre right as he skids towards the reader. Ghede stand the background with his back to the reader and Nathan, of his hands is outstretched as his continues to examine his nails. He is split at the mid-drift where Nathans passed through him as he lunged. Smokey tendrils follow Nathans trajectory.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>MR GHEDE<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>PLEASE, THE SOONER YOU STOP THIS BOISTEROUS CHILDISHNESS THE SOON YOU CAN HAVE YOU LITTE CHERUBS BACK.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>NATHAN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>OOOHHFF!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Four:</span> Nathan, now standing and filthy, holds a hand to his lip that trickles blood. His face shows his pain, both from the fall and from the embarrassment.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>NATHAN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Five:</span> Ghede stand with his cane resting across the back of his shoulders, a hand at either end of it pulling the cane down. He smiles menacingly as he is slowly reformed by the smoke.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>MR GHEDE<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>THIS IS THE "JUDGEMENT". HOWEVER I LIKE TO THINK OF IT AS REDEMPTION. YOU ARE A WICKED MAN OFFICER ANDREWS. EXTORTION. CORRUPTION. MURDER. THESE ARE YOUR SINS. THESE ARE THE REASONS THAT I WILL TAKE YOUR CHILDREN FROM YOU, UNLESS THAT IS YOU PASS MY TESTS.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE FIVE<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel One:</span> Ghede stands on the left opposite Nathan who is angry but helpless. Ghede has his hands out in front of him; in one he holds a battered teddy bear, in the other a pistol. His cane floats in the air as his hands are occupied. <br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>NATHAN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>WHY PUNISH ME? THERE MUST BE HUNDRED OF CROOKED COPS OUT THERE?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>MR GHEDE<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'> AH AH OFFICER ANDREWS ALL IN GOOD TIME. NOW I CONSIDER MYSELF A FAIR MAN AND AS SUCH I'LL EVEN OFFER YOU A LITTLE TOOL TO HELP YOU THROUGH THIS TASK. YOUR PISTOL OR THIS CHILDS TOY?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Two:</span> Small panel of a hand grabbing the pistol.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Three:</span> Nathan stands with the gun to Mr Ghede's head. Nathan looks appropriately serious whilst Ghede smiles jovially holding his hands up. The teddy bear remain in his hand. His cane continues to float around.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>NATHAN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>WHERE ARE THEY!?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>MR GHEDE<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>YOU REALLY THINK THAT'LL DO ANYTHING TO ME AFTER YOUR LITTLE FALL.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>NATHAN<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>WHERE?!!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>MR GHEDE<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'> "ANA'S SEE ALL SHOW TENT". THE DANCER THERE WILL SHOW YOU THE WAY. REMEMBER? BETHANY WANTED TO SEE THE DANCERS. OH HOW REMISS OF ME. YOU HAVE TIL MIDNIGHT TO COMPLETE THE TASK OTHERWISE I KEEP THE CHILDREN.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Four:</span> Nathan blows Ghede's head away. There is a splatter of tenebrous shadows and tendrils.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Five:</span> Ghede stands at the forefront of the panel. His face slowly reconstructs itself in the same manner as earlier. He looks down at the teddy bear still in his hand with half his face. In the background we can see the Nathan exiting the Big Top at pace.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>MR GHEDE<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><span style='font-family:Courier New; font-size:12pt'>HE'LL REGRET THAT, THEY ALL DO.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 124pt'><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='text-decoration:underline'><br /> </span> </p></span>Rikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04295611102803376800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66542269949526939.post-48771450667877333472010-08-23T04:49:00.001-07:002010-08-23T04:49:55.744-07:00Republic<span xmlns=''><p>This was the first comic I ever wrote. It's the prelude to a sci-fi series I had in my noggin. One day I'll return to it but for now it sit there being unproduced.<br /></p><p><span style='font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>Prologue<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE ONE<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL ONE.</span> Big Panel , depicting New Athens. In particular the towers of the polis, a massive, shiny, beacon that towers around the sprawling city around it. The sky is blight blue with very few clouds in the distance we can almost see other towers, but these are smaller. City halls in comparison to this Senate.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Thought Box 1: New Athens; Birthplace of The Republic.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Thought Box 2: A utopia, the only of its kind, thanks to three groups…<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL TWO.</span> A long thin panel. A half built structure with scaffolding around it, on the scaffolding are various construction workers, all wearing blue overalls, but with various tool belts, helmets etc.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 83pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Thought Box 1: the Citizens…<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Recorded voice (off): …without you our republic would fall, you are the bricks with which out our great nation would fall. You pro…<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Thought Box 2:… merchants, trades men and workers.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL THREE.</span> A long thin panel. A group of armour police officers suiting up, in front of some lockers, in the background, a senior officer, already dressed.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Thought Box 1: The auxiliaries…<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Sergeant: Remember men, we are the reason why our republic still stands, without us, everything would fall into to chaos, make sure you remember that when your out there. Now hurry up before I have to…<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Thought Box 2:… soldiers, law enforcers and guardians <br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FOUR.</span> Same style panel, Shows a desk with various dials and screens on it, one screen depicts a class room , focus on one child, wearing white clothes, with dark hair. The child is in his early teens. We can see two hands on the desk as if our view is from over the shoulder of whoever is at the desk.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Thought Box 1: The Polis…<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Computer voice(off): Subject Code:XVIINA. Designation: Nathaniel…<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Thought Box 2:… the real reason the republic still stands.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE TWO<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL ONE.</span> From behind the desk. We can see a polis member sat at a chair at a desk, in front a massive screen with the same image that we saw on the desk screen. Either side on these screen are more monitors with images of the child from different angles and partaking in various activities, such as fencing, science, and debate. The rest of the lab seems to be dimly lit with various lights, dials and technology.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Computer Voice 1:… latest test scores. Sciences. Chemistry 100% in all fields. Biology 100% in all field except genetics. Genetics score 97%.Physics 100% in all fields. Polis…<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Jairus 1: Computer, give me the results of his potential evaluation.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Computer Voice 2:Potential evaluation for Nathaniel xvii. Whilst excelling in scientific and rational thought, Nathaniel has also<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>shown levels of physical ability and compassion that is suited for life in the Auxiliaries. His tutors have recommended that he be taken into the polis as he has displayed potential beyond his peers…<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Jairus 2: Enough. Patch me through to Coeus. Designation: I NA POL…<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL TWO.</span> Coeus walking along a white hall, in a hurry. She is wearing a ceremonial robe and has to elite class auxiliaries flanking her.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Communicator Voice: Incoming call from Jairus Designation: II…<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Coeus: Accept. What is it Jairus, I'm just about to have a meeting with the inner circle.?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL THREE.</span> A frontal view of Jairus. He looks exhausted, rubbing his face with one hand, obscuring half his face. His other eye is closed.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Jairus: after reviewing all the information and footage of the child, it would seem that the child would be should be sent to the polis school, he's score are some of the highest ever seen and all his tutors think that's where he should go. The only drawn back is that it has been reported that he shows high levels of compassion and sentimentality<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FOUR.</span> Frontal view of Coeus again.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Coeus 1: Hmmm, check the records for anyone that was given similar results. Perhaps we can establish a protocol here.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FIVE.</span> Same view of Jairus, except now his hand has moved and his eyes are open.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Jairus 1: computer run results for Nathaniel D. XVII against databases.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Computer Voice 1: Closest match found. Dates 897 Republic standard calendar.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Jairus 2: Just one match, dates over twenty years old though.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Coeus 1 (off): Go ahead.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Jairus 3:Ursus. Designation: II TR AUX. Recently promoted to Stratigos, fighting out near Gaul apparently.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL SIX.</span> Coeus stops walking, she looks worried.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Coeus 1: Ursus! Hmm, I've heard about him. The auxiliaries love him, caused some trouble for the inner circle in the past I think. Hmmm, the child will be sent to the auxiliary training facilities, however, if he survives make sure he isn't sent to Ursus' company.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Jairus (off)1: can I ask why?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Coeus 2: No, just get it done. I'll speak to you later, end communications.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE THREE<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL ONE.</span> View from behind Jairus. Long, thin panel.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL TWO.</span> Same panel<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Jairus 1:Computer, bring up the file on Code: Ursus, designation: II TR AUX<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL THREE.</span> Frontal Bust view of Coeus, looking down and fixing her robe<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Coeus 1(to self): I don't know why I agreed to take that boy on. Causes more problems than his worth.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FOUR.</span> view from behind Coeus, She is stood at two massive doors, with heavily armoured auxiliaries stood either side.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Coeus 1: I'm here to see the Circle. Name Coeus. Designation NA I…<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FOUR.</span> Same view, the doors begin to open<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Coeus 1: …Ah<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Cato (off) 1: Your late Coeus.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FIVE.</span> View looking down from behind Cato's left shoulder. In a dark hall way, light pouring in from the door way as Coeus steps in, silhouetted.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Coeus 1: Ah Cato, I'm honoured the Circle sent you to fetch me, I really am.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Cato 1: If only you were as punctual as are witty Coeus, you wouldn't have been this Late at least.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Coeus 2: Please Cato you know that this is a trivial visit, the council have already approved my proposal, this is mere bureaucracy.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL SIX.</span> Cato and Coeus walking side by side, Cato looking up to Coeus, slightly lagging behind her.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Cato 1: Ah yes, your proposal. Your aware your not the first to forward this idea . Last time someone came forward with this the Circle rejected it, they thought it was dangerous.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Coeus 1: Indeed however, that was when the republic was young and was still being established, plus the fact we didn't have the technology to back the idea. Thanks to me the latter isn't a problem anymore.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Cato 2: if it were up to me the proposal would never be passed, regardless of technology.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE FOUR<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL ONE.</span> View of the back of Coeus. She's looking over her shoulder at Cato who has stopped walking. She is walking into the light.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Coeus 1: Then I suppose the republic Should be thankful that it isn't up to you.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL TWO.</span> Cato looking extremely disgruntled <br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL THREE.</span> A Massive forum like room, with loads of polis members in the seats. At a slightly more decorated section, five polis members decorated in black robes stand. Coeus stand in the centre of the forum awaiting. Angle of view should be low looking up into the forum with Coeus a the forefront.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FOUR.</span> Direct shot of the Inner Circle. One Stands. They all look stern.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Inner Circle Speaker 1: Coeus I NA POL, we summoned you here today to tell you that your proposal has been approved. The council felt that given our levels social stability and your promising research into the fields of eugenics and genetics, we can at last attempt to remove the breeding ceremonies from our culture, just strengthening each castes contribution to the republic.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FIVE.</span> Coeus face. She has a wry smile.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Coeus 1: Thank you council. I'm very please to hear that.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL SIX. </span>Single Shot of the speaker<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Inner Circle Speaker 1: In light of this it is also our privilege to inform you that you will be moving into the inner circle as deputy of progression in science, and as such you will be responsible for over seeing the change from the old system to the new. There is to be one last breeding ceremony at the end of this week, after which the new system must be fully operational. <br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL SEVEN.</span> Coeus face. She is almost grinning.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Coeus : I'm honou…<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL EIGHT. </span>Close up of speaker.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Speaker: Coeus. Your proposal caused much debate between the inner circle and as such, your every move in the upcoming week is going to be scrutinized. I've been told to inform you, that if this project shows any weaknesses at you are to be removed from you dishonourably removed from your position. I'm sure your aware what that means. Speak to Cato on your way out, he will give you your new papers regarding your new position. That is all.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE FIVE<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL ONE.</span> Frontal view from above of Coeus bowing slightly. The door opening behind her. Most of the Forum can be seen. Coeus should be relatively small in the panel.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Coeus 1: Thank you.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL TWO.</span> Coeus turning. The door now fully opened, Cato is stood waiting.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL THREE.</span> Frontal of Coeus with Cato Struggling to keep up. Coeus is grinning, whilst Cato looks frustrated.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Coeus 1: Aren't you going to congratulate me Cato.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Cato 1: I don't think I have to tell you that I disagree with the decision with your ideas. But if the Circle have approved it, then it is what's best for the Republic.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Coeus 2: I'm glad to see that wisdom has finally come with age.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FOUR.</span> Coeus and Cato walking side by side, Cato looking up to Coeus again. <br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Cato 1: And yet you still don't listen to me.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Coeus 1: True, however the other problem with age is the inability to accept change. Even if it is for the greater good.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FIVE.</span> Same panel.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Coeus 1: You forget Cato, that my last proposal increased the productivity of the Civilians by ten percent. And you foolishly disagreed with me then.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Cato 1: Yes well, neuter isn't a word you often hear associated with humans.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Coeus 2: Cato, those who under go the treatment do so that the Republic can be strengthened. Beside you can hardly call some of them Humans. Now about my new duties…<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE SIX <br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL ONE.</span> A Trench. A group of Auxiliaries are backed against the wall. Ursus is with them, they're in light armour. A explosion is happening in the back ground. There are heavily armoured soldiers (possible mech suits) firing towards the trench. Should be a large panel.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Thought Box 1: Somewhere in Gaul.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL TWO.</span> Headshot of Ursus. Slightly Turning his head to his troops. He's shouting into a communicator so to be heard over the shelling.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Ursus 1: Valdis! Where the hell is the E.M.P. drop. Where pinned here.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Valdis (over comm.) 1: You have ten seconds.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL THREE.</span> Headshot of Ursus again.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Ursus 1: Okay men, as soon as we get the signal for the drop. We form a loose shield wall, I'll take point. Understood.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Troops (together)1: Yes sir!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FOUR.</span> View from over the edge of the trench. The groups head are visible, but they're shield are raised up to protect there face.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Valdis (over comm.)1: T-minus 5,4,3…<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Ursus 1: Get ready…<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Valdis 2: …2, 1<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FIVE. </span> View of some Gaul troops. Something is landing in the ground next to them.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL SIX.</span> Whatever just landed, exploding only giving off a blue light. In a bubble.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE SEVEN<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL ONE:</span> A frontal view of the unit charging forward. In a with shields ready. They all look intense, and ready for battle, panel should have explosive feel, maybe he formation should almost look like a flying V with Ursus at the point. Long bar panel.<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Ursus 1: CHARGE!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL TWO:</span> The Unit crashing into the confused Gallic line, whose ranged weapons have ceased working, a sergeant attempt to draw a sword but is quickly impales by one of the unit. Some of the troops should look terrified as they are hacked and stabbed. The mech suits should be motionless, save for a few pilots trying to clamber out of them. The Unit are flawless in battle, some shielding one another as they hack away, Gaul's getting hit in the face with shields. Its key that this appear to be brutal as it will later be referenced by Ursus.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL THREE:</span> Two mech units with the pilots escaping, one is trying to get his seat belt undone the other is staring to run away.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Stuck pilot 1: Fuck don't leave me , you fucker…<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FOUR:</span> The stuck pilot is speared by an auxiliary , the pilot is higher up than the auxiliary and the spear has gone straight through his stomach. Blood explodes out of both his stomach and his mouth.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Stuck Pilot 1: GAKKK!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE EIGHT<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL ONE</span>: View for behind the auxiliary pulling out his spear and the pilots entrails spilling out on to the floor, in the distance is the pilot that fled. The auxiliary doesn't seem to be looking at his victim.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Fleeing pilot 1: gah… fuck, fuck… gah, shit…<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL TWO</span>: a frontal view of the fleeing pilot , a spear head is bursting from his stomach, his face is a portrait of agony as blood seem to splash from his mouth. In the back ground we can see an auxiliary finishing his throwing arc next to the mech, behind him we can see the rest on the unit finishing of there enemy.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL THREE</span>: Frontal of Ursus cleaving away an enemy. He has blood spattered all over him, His face is shadowed, only his eyes and screaming mouth are visible, his victim is silhouetted.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Ursus 1: RAAHHHH!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FOUR</span>: A view from behind Ursus, there is a small explosion of blood from his right elbow as a pistol flashes in the distance where we can see a unit of Gaul's shooting over a trench with different weapons from earlier.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FIVE</span>: in the Gaul trench we can see the commanders handing out contemporary hand pistols. The soldiers are throwing there electrical weapons to the ground and looking at the new weapons with confusion.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Ursus (off) 1: Men form a Testudo on me, they're switching to mechanical.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL SIX</span>: the unit in a tightly form testudo, they are peering through the cracks whilst bullets ping from them,<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Ursus 1: Heh, Normally takes them longer to figure it out. Okay men you know what to do. Slow march forward then storm the trench! Our armour should protect us, that weaponry has low penetration capabilities. March!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE NINE<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL ONE:</span> In a trench, Ursus is sat down leaning on a small table with his head in his hand. On the table is his helmet, his face and armour are covered in dirt and blood. There is a Polis liaison stood talking to him, pristine despite the filth around her. Various troops are walking around busying themselves with military type jobs. There is a doorway within one of the trench walls.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Thought Box: Gaul trenches sometime later.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Polis Liaison 1: Congratulations on another fine victory Ursus. You truly are a hero of the Republic.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Ursus 1: Enough. I know exactly what I am …(whispered to self) regardless of what the republic thinks of me)<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Polis Liaison 2:Pardon?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Ursus 2: Nothing. What news is there from Athens.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL TWO:</span> Direct view of Ursus sat on the chair. He has begun unfastening parts of his armour. He hardly seems to be listening to the liaison.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Polis Liaison 1: Well I'm sure you'll be glad to know that, rather than put more pressure on you, the academy has decided to send the new students and neophytes further north to study under Stratigos Chiron.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Ursus 1: Good man<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL THREE:</span> Similar view except Ursus is removing his gauntlets.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Polis Liaison 1: As you know The peoples states of Kievan and Albion refused to trade with us in attempt to stop our integration of Gaul. However recent diplomatic talks with the two nation have result in declarations of war from both forces who are allying themselves with one another…<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Ursus 1: Predictable.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANLE FOUR: </span> Once again same view. However this time Ursus has his gauntlets removed and is glaring at the reader.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Polis Liaison 1: And as such you and your men are to stay here in Gaul to prepare defences for a possible attack from Albion.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Ursus 1: What?! My men and I where suppose to be taken from the front line next week. To prepare a proper defence against an invasion could take up to two months. <br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Polis Liaison 2: What is an extra six weeks to the Republics most loyal company?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FIVE:</span> An irate Ursus has exploded from his seat and grabbed the polis liaison by the collar. He towers over her as she trembles with fear.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Ursus 1: An extra six weeks makes me a liar. And if I'm a liar how are these men supposed to trust me marching into battle!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Polis liaison 1: I…its out of my hands… there's nothing you can do now.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL SIX:</span> View from behind the polis liaison with Ursus standing over her enraged. Just behind Ursus a auxiliary is approaching.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Polis Liaison 1: I'm sorry… I was told that you'd understand, that you're the only company the republic can rely on for this…<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Auxiliary 1: Sir Pterarchos Valdis is waiting for you.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL SEVEN:</span> Same view except Ursus is walking away , he is waving his hand towards the Liaison.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Auxiliary 1: Sir Pterarchos Valdis is waiting for you.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Ursus: Tell Athens, I'm going to needed a defences attachment for this, your dismissed.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE TEN<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL ONE:</span> Ursus walking into through the door way, over his shoulder the polis liaison is still stood there. Ursus looks menacing as the shadows cast on to him.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Ursus 1: Go. Before I change my mind.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL TWO:</span> A large table project a green hologram outline of the surrounding trenches. Either side of the table are Ursus pointing a finger and shouting. Valdis is studying the map.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Ursus 1: You've got some nerve. Your delay on that E.M.P. drop almost got me killed. I don't know if you'd noticed from up there in your little planes but there is a fucking war going on down here! This is the last time I let you jeopardise my units!. <br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL TWO:</span> frontal view of Valdis, she is leaning on the table with her arms still looking up at map.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Valdis 1: I apologise. But you lived didn't you?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL THREE:</span> Ursus has begun making his way out of the room.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Ursus 1: You're a liability. I'm putting in a request to get a different aerial attachment.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FOUR:</span> Frontal of Valdis again, she's moved from behind the table so she's fully exposed, she is finally looking a Ursus.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Valdis 1:You'll be denied. I'm the best Pterarchos there is. And since where going to be stuck here for the next few months. I think its about time you learnt to trust me.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Ursus 1 (off): Trust is a two way thing, you don't trust my decisions enough to follow my orders.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Valdis 2: I know and that's why I'm suggesting we perform the act of the Sacred band of Thebes.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FIVE:</span> Ursus has turned around. He looks sombre. He is staring straight at Valdis.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Ursus 1: I assume this is a joke. The act has to be sanction by the inner circle, which they only do in the most dire of situations. The last time was during the fledgling years of the Republic. All that aside the act can only be performed between two males.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE ELEVEN<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL ONE:</span> Quite a large panel. Big enough to fit a full view of both characters as is Valdis beginning to approach Ursus. She looks stern, but also sexy. She isn't intentionally trying to do so. Ursus has his eyes fixed upon her.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Valdis 1: You know I've read your file don't you. I know you were almost exiled by the inner circle.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Ursus 1: Exactly. Almost, they had made a mistake.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Valdis 2: We both know that the circle doesn't make mistakes. They don't know how. No. You escaped thanks to lack of evidence. They couldn't get you men to testify against you. Which makes sense given the crime.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Ursus 2: …<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL TWO:</span> Valdis has walked past Ursus now, making her way to the door but he hasn't moved. He isn't even looking at her anymore.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Valdis 1: I could understand your reasons for allowing it to happen. You were dead to the Republic. You and your men were demoralized, facing death…<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL THREE:</span> Frontal view of Ursus, he is staring into nothingness. In the back ground Valdis has stopped at the door and turned around to look back at him.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Valdis 1:… or glory.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Valdis 2: With the highly likely approach of an Albion army, we're inevitably going to be placed under great strain. We both know we're going to have to place more trust in each other. <br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FOUR:</span> Ursus stood at the hologram desk. He is still motionless. The green light illuminates his front. He continuing to scare aimlessly into space.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Valdis 1 (off): Your not the only one who'd like to survive this war you know..<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FIVE:</span> Ursus crashes both his fists onto the table with an instant crack emerging. He is enraged.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Ursus 1: Aargh!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL SIX:</span> Ursus still stood at the desk with his fists in the table.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-size:12pt; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE TWELVE<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL ONE: </span> The houses of parliament , except surrounding it are other tall Victorian and gothic buildings.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Thought Box 1 : The Peoples Socialist State of Albion.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL TWO</span>: A quite humble office. A well presented man(the prime minister) sits behind a desk gazing intensely at a man sat the other side in uniform. There are a couple of maids with tea trays approaching the desk.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Prime Minister Owen 1:What defences can w expect them to set up in Gaul?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Commander Thompson 1: We expect them to set up many small camps that they'll use to house and train there young troops with a number of larger encampment that will be home to three maybe four of there most experienced Stratigos.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL THREE:</span> A frontal of the Prime minister as a maid put the tea on his desk.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>PM Owen 1: I see, well the Kiev has inform me that we are to get rid of a lot of our electrical armour and weaponry and prepare for lot of close combat encounters with the enemy. Are our forces prepared for this?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Commander Thompson (off)1: Indeed we are sir. Additionally I recommend that you suggest to the Kiev that they co-operate in some of our more covert operations.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FOUR:</span> Frontal view of the commander taking a cup and saucer from the maid. He smiling slightly.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>PM Owen 1: Covert Operations?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Commander Thompson 1: Yes Prime minister, we have had counter intelligence operative set up in the Republic for some time now.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>PM Owen 2 :Spies? How far have they infiltrated?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PANEL FIVE:</span> View of a busy street in New Athens filled with workers busying themselves in street, the sun is glaring down and the street looks hectic with various workers carrying/using building materials or just generally looking busy.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Thought Box 1: New Athens, Workers District.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-size:12pt'>Commander Thompson 1 (off): Into the very foundation.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Rod Transparent; font-size:10pt'>END<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p></span>Rikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04295611102803376800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66542269949526939.post-46962509329364976092010-08-23T04:45:00.001-07:002010-08-23T04:45:29.489-07:00Eden Project<span xmlns=''><p><span style='font-family:Cambria'>This is a story I wrote for Jolly Rogue Studios. Its part of an anthology called "Eden Can be Seen Through Barbwire" and it will be out soon for y'all to purchase. I'd through up some of the art for it but I think it's still under lock and key at the moment.<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Cambria; text-decoration:underline'>"The Big Push"<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Cambria'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Note </span>The Story is set during World War One, so clothes, technology hairstyles etc. should be fitting for the period.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel One:</span> A British Sergeant is standing in a hallway to the left of a wooden door. His arm is in a cast and he has a patch over his eye. He stands at attention despite the fact he is alone and has a stoic look on his face.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Caption: November 10<sup>th</sup> 1916<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Colonel (off): Enter!<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Two:</span> View from behind sergeant as he enters the room. It's filled with boards containing highlighted maps and various photographs of terrain and troops. Directly in front of the Sergeant is a large desk also covered with various files, reports and papers. A single chair sits in between the sergeant and the desk. Behind the desk sits a large, moustachioed Colonel. The Colonel has one hand on the arm of his chair as though he is making the effort to stand up on the sergeant's arrival with his other hand indicating towards the chair.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Colonel: Ah! Harrison. Come in, take a seat. I take it you know why you're here Harrison?<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Harrison: Sir, I'm here to report the events of October 29<sup>th</sup>.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Colonel: Very Good. Tea?<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Three:</span> Frontal of Harrison now sitting down: He has a very serious look on his face.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Harrison: No thank you, sir. I'd prefer it if we could get on with it, sir.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Four: </span> Frontal View of the Colonel. His arms are resting on the table in front of him as he leans forward. His eyes are looking down at the form in front of him as his hand hovers with a pen over it.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Colonel: Very well. Straight to business it is then. The sooner this is over the quicker we can get back to giving the Gerries what for, eh? Start form the 25<sup>th</sup> if you could Harrison.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center; margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE TWO<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center; margin-left: 36pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel One: </span>Panel spreading the length of the top of the page. All that's in it is the very top of the trench adorned with barbed wire.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Caption: Yes sir. Before "The Push" order came through, I imagine our trench was the same as everybody else's.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Two:</span> Frontal view of two soldiers sitting on boxes with their backs against a muddy trench wall. The first only has one boot on with the other stood up next to him as he pulls on a thick woolly sock, he has a blanket resting on his shoulders. The second soldier has a blanket wrapped around him and his face can barely be seen between the blanket and his helmet.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Caption: We maintained equipment.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>First Soldier: It's no use. I can't keep my feet dry long enough for the other pair to have dried out!<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Second Soldier: It least you've got a second pair of socks mate. This is my only blanket and it's infested. I swear if Fritz doesn't get me, these bleeding lice will.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Three:</span> In the middle of the panel in the back ground is a spectacled soldier sitting down with paper on his lap, he is looking into the foreground along the trench to two soldiers stood facing one another on either side on the panel squatting against the trench walls.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Caption: Ate what food we could.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Spectacled Soldier: Has anyone got some spare paper?<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Solider on left: Just write on your biscuit. That's about all they're good for. That and breaking teeth.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Soldier on Right: Now be fair, lads. If we run out of ammo we can always chuck that at the enemy.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Four: </span> Same as panel two except the first soldier is now lacing his boots up.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Caption: Occasionally we'd try to affect the German's morale.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Germans (off): GOTT MIT UNS!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Five: </span> Once again similar panel except the first soldier is now leaning back with his head and his hand to the side of his mouth as he shouts.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>First soldier: YEAH, WE'VE GOT MITTENS TOO! Hahaha<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Second Solder: Heh heh.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center; margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE THREE<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center; margin-left: 36pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel One:</span> Same content as panel one on page two.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Caption: Mostly though, we just tried to get by until we could come home.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Two:</span> Here we see Harrison and two privates, Adams and Milton, sitting around a box playing cards. Harrison is on the left. He is unkempt and not wearing a helmet whilst smoking with rifle leaning on the wall behind him. He is looking up to the barbed wire at the top of the trench. Harrison is sitting in the middle; his eyes are down as though looking at the cards in his hand. On the right Adams is seated. He is young and well kept, with his gun slung over his shoulder; he too is looking down at his cards.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Milton: So what do you think Sarge? How long till we're forced through that stuff up there?<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Harrison: Couldn't say. But I'll let top brass know you're ready as soon as I can, eh?<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Milton: Ahh don't go out of your way sir. Even this hell hole is better than what's waiting up there. Right Adams?<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Adams: Actually I can't wait to go over the top. <br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Three:</span> Front view of Milton. He has a confused look on his face. He is pointing up to the panel (where the top of the trench behind Adams would be).<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Milton: Have you lost it? What could possibly inspire you to want to clamber across to the German trench? Oktober Fest? A love of Wagner? A deep rooted desire to be ripped apart by machine gun fire? <br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Harrison (off): Easy private.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Four:</span> Side view of Adams, with Harrison on his left. Harrison is looking at Adams expectantly. Adams is still looking at his cards but has a smile on his face.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Adams: While those do sound splendid, it's my ticket home. The sooner we win this war the sooner I go home.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Harrison: A girl then?<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Adams: Name's Rachel. Beautiful red hair, voice like an angel. If you'd ever seen her, you'd know it was worth it. The sooner I'm through with this, the sooner I get back to her.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Five: </span> Similar View except this time it's a side view of Milton with Harrison on the right. Milton is leaning back with a smirk on his face and his hands resting on his knees. Harrison has his head turned to Milton with an angry expression on his face.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Milton: A girl? Poor bugger, you'll soon find out that no girl's worth what we're about to go through. May as well shoot yourself in the foot now and get out early.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Harrison: Private! Do you want to be on sentry duty tonight?<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center; margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE FOUR<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center; margin-left: 36pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel One: </span> Once again the top of a trench with barbed wire along it.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Caption: The order came through on the morning of the 28<sup>th</sup>.The troops had mixed feelings about finally going over the top.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Two:</span> Adams leaning against the wall of the trench with another soldier seated next to him. In the background, sitting on his own is Milton. The first two are engaged in conversation whilst Milton looks solemn.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Adams: Tomorrow is the day. We climb out of this trench, walk across that bit of land and I'm closer to home.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Soldier: Maybe even kill a few of them sods. Get ourselves some medals when we get back to Blighty? <br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Three:</span> Same panel again but with the Adams and the soldier looking quite cheerful. In the background Milton is staring at the two with an intense look on his face.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Solider: So I heard you've got a girl back home. Bet that will make the hero's welcome that bit sweeter?<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Adam: It's going to be sweet enough just seeing her face again. I remember this one summer when we walked out to the country...<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Four:</span> View of Milton alone now. He is looking directly towards the right of the panel at Adams and the soldier. He looks frustrated.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Milton: Don't you get it? There's no medals, no sweet hearts waiting for you out there! Just hundreds of Germans are up there, just as pissed off as us, with machine guns and rifles. Nothing is out in no man's land other than the knowledge of life and death! I thought you would have realized that by now! This isn't an order to be heroes or go home; it's an order to be killed.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Five:</span> Front view of Adams and the soldier. They are both looking down with a mixture of realisation of their situation and shame of their naivety<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Milton (off): If you love this girl so much, I'd start writing your goodbye letter.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center; margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE FIVE<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel One:</span> Same as the previous first panels except this time the barbed wire has gone.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Caption: On the morning of the Push, our trench felt eerily quiet.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Two:</span> View of a group of soldiers with their backs against the now barb wire free trench. In no man's land explosions are lighting up the dark morning sky. The soldiers look sombre attending to their guns and various other bits of their kit. None of them are interacting with one another<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>S/F: THUDUUM! (Shelling sounds)<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Three:</span> A close up view of a soldier inspecting his rifle to make sure everything is in order.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>S/F: CLI-CLAK (Lee Enfield being cocked)<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Four: </span>A close up of Adams in the foreground with Milton next to him. Adams is resting some paper on his lap as he writes his final letter home; he has a longing look on his face. Milton next to him has a cigarette in his mouth as he shields his lit match from the wind.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Five: </span>The time has arrived. All the soldiers are lined up at the trench wall preparing to go over the top; at the end of the line is Harrison. He is holding a pistol in one hand and a whistle in mouth with the other. <br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>S/F: CLAK-CLAK-CLAK (this sound should be moving down the trench as each soldier cocks his weapon)<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Caption: Being honest sir, making that order might have been the hardest thing I had to do in that trench.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center; margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>PAGE SIX</span><br /> </span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel One:</span> Frontal view of Harrison and his men marching across No Man's Land in a line. On the ground we can see bits of debris, holes from the shelling filled up with muddy water and bit of barbed wire mashed into the ground, occasionally reaching out of the ground.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Caption 1: The bombardment was a failure sir. The barbed wire in no man's wasn't destroyed, and the terrain became almost impassable.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Two: </span> A view from behind the silhouetted unit in the back ground we can see the flash of machine gun fire. The silhouetted troops are being torn to bits. Flesh and ripped uniform fly around the air.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>S/F: TUDUDUDUD-TUDUDUDUD-TUDUDUDUD! (heavy machine gun fire)<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>German Trench: SCHIESSEN!<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Caption: The German trenches were fine. Their guns ripped us apart.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Three:</span> Harrison is dragging himself through the mud with one arm, His other arm is bleeding and half his face is covered in a mixture of dirt and blood. He looks both exhausted and in excruciating pain. Around him lie the bodies of various British troops. In the background we can see the flash of machine gun fire and a few bullets narrowly missing Harrison, pinging on debris around him<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>S/F: TINK-TING (bullet ricocheting of debris) <br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Four:</span> In the foreground lying on some twisted barbed wire we can see Adams. He is bleeding profusely. He is looking up into the sky as he breathes his last breath. Blood is trickling from his mouth. One hand rest on his stomach where he has been shot, the other is holding up a folded piece of paper. Harrison is approaching and is only a few feet away. He has a look of shock on his face upon finding Adams.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Harrison: Adams! Hold on! I'm coming!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Five:</span> Harrison has crawled right next to Adams. He is pressing down on his stomach in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding with a look of alarm on his face as he looks at the wound. His other hand is holding the letter. Adams splutters blood as he tries to speak. <br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Adams: You have to take this home for me *cough*. Take it to Rachel.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Harrison: I'm getting you out of here. You can give it to her yourself.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Adams: I broke my promise *cough cough*. I promised ...<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center; margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE SEVEN<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel One: </span> Milton has shown up behind Harrison. He is relatively unscathed appearing to have only minor cuts. He has grabbed Harrison by the back of his jacket and is trying to haul him back to British trenches. Harrison looks desperate and doesn't want to leave Adams behind; as he is being pulled away he has taken Adams letter. Adams can still be seen in the foreground dying.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Milton: Let's get the hell out of here!<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Harrison: No! We have to get Adams home!<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Milton: God damn it! He's done for. Forget him.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Adams: I promised...I'd...<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Caption: I'd like to suggest a notable mention in your report for Private Joseph Milton<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Two:</span> Adams' body lays in the foreground. In the background Milton is still dragging Harrison with his back to the reader and has just taken a bullet in his back. Harrison is still looking at Adams compassionately.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>S/F: CRACK! (Rifle shooting Milton in the back)<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Caption 1: He was killed whilst dragging me out of combat.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Harrison: You should have taken him!<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Milton: He's a dead m *gahk*<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Adams:...make it...<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Three:</span> View from above Adams; we can see his head and shoulders. His eyes have closed and he looks peaceful. Behind his head is a bed of twisted barbed wire.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Caption1: That's about everything sir. Before I'm dismissed I was wondering if you could see that this letter gets back to England? One of my privates gave it to me before he died.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Adams: ...home.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Four:</span> Very similar head shot of Adams, only this time he has his hands behind his head. His eyes are closed and he is smiling as the sun beats down on his face. Instead of barbed wire he is laying with his back to the trunk of a tree, behind the tree we can see lush fields and hills. Picturesque England.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Rachel (off): Hello stranger.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Five:</span> Frontal view of Rachel, She is looking down at Adams. She is every bit the beauty he said she was. The sun is high in the sky behind her and behind we can see more country side. She wears a floral dress and has a flower in her hair. She looks incredibly happy to see Adams.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE EIGHT<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel One:</span> View of Rachel sitting down next to Adams. She has lifted his arm up and is putting it around herself, Adams is looking at her with a slight look of disappointment on his face.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Adams: So have you forgiven me?<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Rachel: Just, but you have to promise me one thing.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Adams: Anything.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Two:</span> Rachel is holding Adams face. She is gazing at him lovingly as Adams waits expectantly<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Adams: What is it?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Three: </span>Similar view but the couple are now kissing holding one another gently.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Four:</span> View of Rachel and Adams, She is now resting in his arm with her head on his shoulder and her hand resting on his chest. Adams is kissing her head.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Rachel: Promise me you'll come home.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Adams: I promise.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Five</span>: This should be the biggest panel on the page. In the left hand corner we see Adams and Rachel resting against a tree. The rest on the panel should consist on the idyllic countryside; think forests, green and golden fields perhaps a perfect little cottage in the distance with soft rolling hills surround it.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'> Rachel: I love you<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Adams: I love you.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><br /> </p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Caption Box:<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>IF I should die, think only this of me:<br/> That there's some corner of a foreign field<br/>That is forever England. There shall be<br/> In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;<br/>A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,<br/> Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,<br/>A body of England's, breathing English air,<br/> Washed by the rivers, blest by the suns of home.<br /></span></p><p style='margin-left: 36pt'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>The Soldier- Rupert Brooke<br /></span></p></span>Rikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04295611102803376800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66542269949526939.post-4248078675081587532010-08-23T04:33:00.001-07:002010-08-23T04:33:51.560-07:00Land of All Sorts<span xmlns=''><p>Here is a little horror story. Hope you enjoy it.<br /></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman; text-decoration:underline'>The Land of All Sort<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE ONE<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel One</span>: A view of gates to a mansion with a winding road leading up to the mansion itself. It's a hug, dark, gothic structure. Behind it is the midnight sky with a crescent moon. At the edges of the panel and on the path leading up to the mansion are suitably spooky leafless trees.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Caption: Immaculate Heart of Mary Institute of the Psychologically Deranged<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Two</span>: View down a stony hall way with doors on either side. Leaking Pipes run along the roof with a rat scurrying along them. A doctor and nurse are approaching the reader. The Doctor looks dishevelled. Balding he wears his glasses on the peak of his ravenous nose. His hands remain behind his back and he appears calm but disdainful. The nurse is lag slightly behind him. She is fat and has an uptight look about her. She is holding a clip board out in front of her.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Nurse: 42 has become even more paranoid, he refuses to eat now.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Doctor: He'll starve then<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Nurse: 54 has regressed again. He stabbed Jenkins with a pen, in his eye.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Doctor: Should have seen it coming <em>heh heh</em>. Very well put him back on the medication. Any news about patient 36?<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Nurse: 36, 36 ahh yes here we go. She's fine. Last time we checked she was out like a light.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Three</span>: view of the doctor looking back over his shoulder with his eyebrow cocked.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Doctor: Really? No sleep walking, no talking, nothing?<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Nurse (off): Nothing.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Four</span>: Frontal of the doctor again with the nurse visible over his shoulder. He has a smug grin on his face.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Doctor: You know some times I surprise myself Nurse Hynes. Keep monitoring her over night and update me in the morning.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Nurse: Yes Doctor.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE TWO<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel One</span>: View of the Doctor at his steering wheel. His craggy face is once again stoic.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Doctor: So Kathryn is better. My Kathryn. I healed her. The Land of All Sorts is gone.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Two</span>: Kathryn sat on a chair. She is about 12 years old. She has straight blonde hair that she is wearing down and is dressed in a very soft blue patient's uniform. She is the epitome of innocence but has a sad face. She is looking slightly, directly towards the reader.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Doctor (off): She was the only one who really deserved to be cured. So Innocent. So beautiful. I would cure her and she would be mine.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Three</span>: A large panel with the doctor sat down at one end of a massive table and Kathryn sat at the other. The doctor is leaning into the table intently staring at Kathryn with his forearms resting on the table as he takes notes. Kathryn at the other end is facing away from his gaze. Her feet don't reach the floor. In the middle of the table is some recording equipment.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Doctor: Patient name, Kathryn O'Donnell. Second interview. Patient suffers from acute schizophrenia, which presents itself in an unusual form of insomnia and somnambulism or sleep walking. Kathryn would you like to tell me more about "The Land of All-Sorts"?<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Kathryn: Why? I've already told you?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Four</span>: Frontal of doctor, he has removed his glasses and is breathing on them.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Caption: She resisted me for the longest time, but that only exemplified her perfection.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Doctor: I know Kathryn but in order for me to help you , I need to know all I can, that way I can find out what's causing these little departures from the real world.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Five</span>: Frontal of Kathryn, she is looking straight at the reader, she looks frustrated.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Kathryn: It is the real world! I told you! And I told Mister Croak you didn't think he was real, and he didn't like it!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE THREE<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel One</span>: Kathryn is facing the reader to the left of the panel, she is looking grumpy. Behind the wall to her left (readers right) is crumbling away. In its place we can see the Land Of All sorts. It's a picturesque fairy tale land with a shining white castle in the furthest background. In the foreground there is a Mr Croak on a reed. Mr Croak is a Frog in a jacket with tails and a top hat. He has a parasol in his free hand that he is resting over his shoulder. The parasol is translucent and alternates in black and white. Next to him is a teddy bear wearing an apron and tool belt. They both look happy and cheerful.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Kathryn: Mr Croak is real, and his umbrella taste like humbugs. And the Blacksmith is real. And he told me that everyone has a land of all sorts that they can go to, but old people forget. And when I go to sleep I get to go there!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Two</span>: Frontal of the Doctor again. His head is hung mournfully.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Doctor: I'm afraid you left me no choice.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Three</span>: View from above with Kathryn strapped into a gurney. Nurse Hyne is tightening the straps on one side whilst the Doctor is applying the diodes to Kathryn's temple. Kathryn looks panicked.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Caption: It was the only way. I had to bring her back to the real world. To society. To Me.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Doctor: it will all be over soon.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Kathryn: But I want to stay with Mr Croak and Blacksmith. There my friends.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Four</span>. Side View of Kathryn jerking on the gurney, writhing in agony. Behind her the Doctor is looking down at her lovingly with one hand resting on the battery dial of the machine.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Kathryn: NNNNNGGGG!!!<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Caption. It pained me to do it. But I knew she'd thank me.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Five</span>: A view of a room, on the left hand side of the panel we see the Doctor half hidden behind the closing door. He has a sinister, suspicion look on his face. One of the hands rests on the edge of the door almost stroking it as he closes it. In the room we can see Kathryn lay on a bed. There are drawings stuck to the wall around the bed of The Lands of All Sort.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Kathryn: The process often left her weak and disorientated, but I found time to sneak away to take care of her personally.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE FOUR<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel One</span>: the Doctors car parked up on the left and the Doctor walking up to his house. A brief case in one hand and his keys in the other.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Caption: Seems she's fine now. She'll be returning home shortly I imagine.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Two</span>: View from Above with the Doctor lying in bed. His eyes are closed. He looks peaceful.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Caption: Her real Home. Not the Land of...<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Three</span>: The Doctor stood in a distressed dark forest in his uniform. The trees once again are suitably creepy and surround him. He looks shocked at his surroundings<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Doctor: Where...?<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Mr Croak (off): Hello doctor<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Four</span>: A view from over the Doctor's right shoulder. He is on the left of the panel. We can see Black Smith with mister Croak sitting on his shoulder, except now Mr Croaks face is skeletal and his jacket and top hat are tattered. One of his hands rests on his knee and the other is drooped down in front of him hold a shard of glass but what is actually his shatter parasol. Blacksmith is no longer a teddy but a real, monstrous bear. Growling, blood and bits of flesh hang from his mouth.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Doctor: This can't be. It's a dream.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Mr Croak: Indeed Doctor but <em>rippit</em> excuse me. But you're about to see how real dreams can be. You hurt Kathryn. You nearly destroyed our Land. We had to leave her so you we could find you.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Blacksmith: Grrrr.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Five</span>: Frontal of Mr. Croak resting on Blacksmith's shoulder.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Mr Croak: <em>Rippit</em>. We never knew we only had to visit her Father's dreams though. Mr Smith. If you'd like start the proceedings?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p style='text-align: center'><span style='font-family:Times New Roman; text-decoration:underline'>PAGE FIVE<br /></span></p><p style='text-align: center'><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel One</span>: Head shot of Mr Croak looking almost at the reader.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Doctor (off): No...No. Arrghk<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Blacksmith (off): Roar!<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Two</span>: Same shot of Mr Croak except he has blood splattered across his face.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Mr. Croak: <em>Rippit<br /></em></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel three</span>: Two Nurses stood outside a door, both overweight.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Nurse One: Yeah so they found him in bed. Coroner said its looks like he'd be stabbed and beaten to death expect there were no visible marks.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Nurse Two: Bloody Hell<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Nurse One: On top of that 36 regresses. Doctor Doyle is in there now with her.<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Four</span>: A Young, smart looking doctor, looking comfortingly at the reader.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Doyle: You didn't sleep properly last night. Do you want to tell me what happened Kathryn?<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'><span style='text-decoration:underline'>Panel Five</span>: A frontal of Kathryn who is beaming at the reader.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Kathryn: I'm going to be safe; I don't have to worry again.<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Doyle (off): Oh?<br /></span></p><p><span style='font-family:Times New Roman'>Kathryn: Yup, Mr Croak has come back<br /></span></p><p><br /> </p></span>Rikhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04295611102803376800noreply@blogger.com1