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Pothealer
July 18th, 2005, 08:21 PM
(WARNING: EXCESSIVE STUPIDITY AHEAD!)

One thing I've always daydreamed about is if there were a series of books that detailed celebrity boxing between fantasy and sci-fi characters. You know, Gandalf vs. Belgarath, HAL9000 vs. the Matrix, Alien vs. Predator.

I think it would be really cool, for example, to see how the Fremen would conduct themselves in a battle with the Roughnecks from StarShip Troopers. Or how Ash would feel if he were fighting the aliens from, uh, Aliens.

Ahem. I know this is an unbelievably stupid thread already, but here goes...

On July 18th, 2005, my shipmates and I, passengers of the H.M.S. Lord Snogglewhelp, plunged toward the chillier parts of the Atlantic Ocean, on what I believe is the strangest expedition men have yet undertaken. The captain of our vessel, a John R, was a grizzled man of many long winters upon the sea.

The ocean was, fortunately, calm enough for our expedition. Soon, we could see our destination: A small, uncharted island, consisting of little beside a small abandoned research station. We would need make no use of these outbuildings for the black deeds we would undertake there.

By nightfall, with the clouds fitfully passing over a bright full moon, we discharged ourselves, as well as the object of this voyage, from our ship by means of a small rowboat. The object, which I have not spoken of, at first raised the hairs on the back of my neck. It was of iron, and completely sealed, but there was obviously something alive within it. I could hear it brushing against the metal sides, and occasionally, thrashing the box from within. This lasted our entire voyage, though there was no visible means of ventilation.

The companion to this object was a wizened old man a strange man, indeed, and very unlikable. His dress was very exotic: A long black cloak, and a strange, horned helm. At the start of the voyage I asked him his name.

"My name," he said and paused for a long time, "is Tim."

We spoke little during the rest of that voyage, but now that we were done, he was receiving handshakes and encouragement from all, and lastly, from the the captain himself.

"Good luck, lad," the captain said. A tear shone in his eye. "Remember, it can take quite a beating, but your mind is the most important part."

This final word of advice seemed to infuriate the strange man. His next action shocked us all. He raised his hands, mumbling softly to himself, and the captain became engulfed in flame! Presently, the poor captain's wailing ceased, and we got about our deplorable business, the smoking remains of our good captain filling our nostrils.

The iron box was placed at one corner of a fenced-off area some fifty feet on a side. This was per the instructions of Tim. The area looked old, and black carbonization stains were visible on the ground.

Tim proceeded to the other end of the ring. One of the passengers, who seemed a hireling of Tim's, fired a shot into the air. As if by some unseen hand, the lid of the iron box came slowly off, and we all cringed as a slimy tentacle reached over the side.

What happened next has been corrupted in my memory by the many nightmares I have endured over the years or are my memories of that night still crystal-clear and unsullied by time, their horribleness naked to me still? I do not know. What I remember was Tim, silhouetted by the great balls of fire he cast again and again to a horrible, tentacled visage of some elder age, when horrors walked the earth unchecked. The air around me was full of long-dead voices chanting something like, "Yog Sogoth!" Again and again until it was all some creeping madness that distilled time into a physical essence of pain!

When the black mists began to disperse a little from my mind, I saw Tim and the creature still locked in mortal combat. The fires of the old man were weakening, however, and the gaping mind of the monster reached for the wizard like a maw and consumed him.

Afterwards, it went on a rampage on that little island. I, too, was eaten, and I write this from some lonely dimension that I must conclude is Cthulhu's metaphysical digestion system. I tell you these Wait! What is that? They are coming again, the mewling creatures. I must leave in haste or

juzzza
July 19th, 2005, 05:51 AM
Nothing wrong with this thread, Pothealer... except that it belongs in the writing forum... so I wave my magic mod-wand...

I want to see Caine (stover) Vs Uther Doul (sp?) the guy with the probable sword (Mieville)...

By the way, it's fine to discuss who you want to fight, but SFFW can't host any fan fic of any kind... thanks

Michael B
July 19th, 2005, 12:16 PM
There was a web site that specialised in that sort of thing. It was called the Grudge Match and sadly it is no more. I can not remember whether it had any of the bouts you mention, but it did have the starship Enterprise against the Deathstar and DS9 against Babylon Five.

Victory depended on which contestant got the most votes.

Expendable
July 19th, 2005, 03:48 PM
I came across a message board once that combined quotes from the Princess Bride and Star Wars. Kinda cute. But not good for here.