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Messages - Geo Holms

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151
Art Gallery / Re: June - Sketch Month!
« on: June 08, 2009, 06:50:28 PM »
I think this properly highlights why Lopez is so gosh darn luffable.  ]:)

I retain the "ooo, shiny" approach to reviews.

152
Art Gallery / Re: June - Sketch Month!
« on: June 06, 2009, 04:32:37 PM »
Does that mean there are noodles in that mysterious cake? And a nice sword pose up dere, Mr. Virmir.

I'm popping in because I realized in the midst of doing ArtSlam http://community.livejournal.com/artslam that this fellow would fit into this thread nicely.  ]:P

http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y19/Traxer/rex_artslam.jpg (heh, image and url tags never are my friends in this forum, it seems.   |fox| )

153
Writer's Guild / Re: "Reyan Saga" (unfinished)
« on: May 31, 2009, 06:34:53 PM »
Ah, bunnies: classic. Bloody, bloody, bloody, and a good dose of cool in this part. The whole "melting of flesh" made me think of Indiana Jones (obviously). The general mental struggle between doing the right thing and eating the magic bunny, ur, I mean, falling to his primal nature, was the intriguing part.

And as dark as this part was, still retained a tone that made this still a bit fun. And gives promises of more complications in the future, as any tale ought to. I can see the conscience problems are just beginning.


154
Art Gallery / Precipice
« on: May 17, 2009, 01:01:18 AM »
Alas, late night sketchings lead to drawing of anything suggested in the general area of the chats. So, alas, with a suggestion of some mage fox and the word "precipice" in mind, I sketched this fellow out.  [fox]



It involved a cape. I was powerless to avoid this. (It's an interpretation of Virmir, of course.) ]:)

155
Writer's Guild / Re: Swarmy
« on: April 06, 2009, 09:21:46 PM »
Yes, definitely considering expanding on different parts of the world. Might have the ol' raccoon come along for the ride. It's meant to be a grand tongue-in-cheek high fantasy tale, in which the author of it is stuck within the pages...as a swarmy. How, what, where and why....shall come eventually. Sooooomeday.

In the meantime, here is some simple sketches of the swarmy, just for the heck of it. http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y19/Traxer/swarmy-1.jpg

156
Writer's Guild / Re: Responsibility
« on: April 06, 2009, 07:19:09 PM »
Love the way that this uses "show not tell" to its full advantage. This a story loaded with little dashes of sub-text floating about the edges that the reader can see little glimmers of about the edges. There is the bluntness to it, it captures the unexpectedness of the situation, the tug-of-war, of the things that the male wants to say and the things that the female is trying to avoid. The mix of these two really makes a read that leads me to wonder what the hints are leading toward, intrigues enough to want to know more. Really is quite cool in that sense.

Very interesting setup and how it is played off. I like a fine use of dialogue to deepen a story, really gives a sense of depth in this one.

There was only one small thing that I got confused about:

Quote
She stopped, and he loosened his muscles and pawed at the ground, “What’s wrong?”

She returned to packing, although less enthusiastic than before, “Nothing, I just need to hurry, that’s all.”

The structure of that first part made it confusing to understand who was the one speaking, because both were mentioned in the previous phrase. The next part clarified it but I had to pause and go back to understand it. Perhaps make the first part into two sentences. as in "She stopped. He loosened his muscles. "What's wrong?" he asked. Because, I've been told this but I'm not certain of the rule, one cannot "paw at the ground" the words "what's wrong."  Heh. Not sure if that makes sense.

And that be it for now.

157
Random Topics / Re: A Book You Should(?) Read.
« on: March 03, 2009, 11:10:04 PM »
Hmm. Those links don't like me. Anyhoo, here be a cheaper version of Franky Furbo (though that prize for that one is hilarious).
http://www.amazon.com/Franky-Furbo-novel-William-Wharton/dp/0805011579/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1236143263&sr=1-3

Would still recommend Firstdark even if Franky could be gotten for cheaper. ^^ Perhaps a poking around DealOz...

158
Writer's Guild / Re: Swarmy
« on: March 03, 2009, 10:35:52 PM »
Actually, this story came around to be just a little tongue-in-cheek look at swarmies and their odd natures. The little creatures have been romping about the back of my head for the past months and I needed to have an outlet for their dappled hides. It's basically a test run to see if the idea of swarmies could fit into a story.

At its core, it is a story about a sensible beast trying to talk sense into a nonsensical beast with little or no effect, with a highlight on a swarmy's odd perchance to be an utterly quizzical soul right to the tip of her whiskers. Many times there is a sidekick in a fantasy tale, either the quirky ones, or the cynical ones. Dirt is a good representative of what could be a quirky sidekick, while Jesse could be a candidate for a cynical sidekick, if he ever wished to or was forced into the position. So its meant to be all in good fun, but with some grim undertones of realities and dark humor. (Though I really can see the wisdom vs. knowledge...highly intriguing ...)

I'd definitely consider a first person approach to this story. After writing this, I found myself lured to the character of Jesse, though he was only created on the fly for a one-shot in this short story. Thank ye for that through review, Mr. Lopez, it brought into light some things I didn't even consider when composing this tale.  Shall look into the timing of that first line.

In addition to that, it feels like you used a thesaurus.(I can't really find any particular words you used that describe how I feel.) Using a thesaurus is nice, but be careful. Make sure that what you say closely depicts the idea that you're trying to convey. Sometimes it can be very useful, but other times it can completely break the flow of your story.

...you'd be surprised how many times I've heard that. Actually, I'm just naturally that weird with my vocabulary ramblings. Who normally writes something like "Dirt drooled a little in the aftermath of her colloquy" ? (Admittedly, writing that makes me smile inside.  ]:) )

I was using "squee" in the context of, as KaiAdin said, an onomatopoeic term, mean to be familiar with excited squealing of a cute thingamagum. (Though I wouldn't put it past Dirt to widdle herself in the presence of a human.) I did have a little trouble with the ending, however. I felt it ended a little sooner than I wanted it to, but was submitting it for a contest at the time, so I let it be. Perhaps I should poke it a little more...there was a scene with a band of robbers and a cooking spit that I wanted at one point...

It does have its deep parts, but really, it's just meant to be an adorable little feel-good story smattered with a good amount of dark humor.

Overall, thanks very much for the comments and kind words. If a tale causes a few snickers, that's always a worthwhile tale to write in my book. And thanks all around the fire pit for taking a twitch of time to read, mateys.  ]:P

159
Random Topics / Re: A Book You Should(?) Read.
« on: March 03, 2009, 09:01:57 PM »
Well, if you want something with a magical fox, and more odd details than you shake a tail at, I would recommend the strange tale of Franky Furbo . I can honestly say I haven't quite read as...weird a tale as this one. It's an exploration of a man's sanity as he tries to separate fact and fiction from an experience he had during World War II. My only complaint is it isn't quite as quirky as it should have been, but it defiantly was an engaging tale all the way through.

My second fox oriented recommendation would be Foxes of Firstdark which is a brilliant story about foxes trying to survive in the British countryside as the suburbs creep upon them. It has a great cast of characters and really does a great job of mixing real facts about foxes and spinning a mythos about their own legends and beliefs. Definitely one with some re-reading factors on it.

I could go further but that's enough recommendations fer now.

160
Writer's Guild / Swarmy
« on: March 02, 2009, 09:02:16 PM »
Yus, definitely gonna get more active in the forums...soon.  ]:P

Swarmy

Over the field of Noughtmag, across the grassy foliage of Listy Plain, down among the crags of Hawp Mountains, in a forested valley of no name, the swarmy lived.

They had pointed snouts, pointed ears, pointed claws, pointed details on everything except for the parts that were swoopy, like its long body and its whiskers and floofy tail and movements. Its swoopy insides were held in by a creamy belly fur and a hazelnut hide, interluded by dappled yellow bits along its back and head.

And a swarmy was a very stupid creature, with no sense of instinct or survival. They possessed a cute helpful nature that appeared push all other useful characteristic into locations unknown. Swarmies also had a perchance for simple questions. These questions usually happened just before they died.

It was not a surprise when Locke got trampled onto the rusty dirt road by horse hooves. Locke had planned to ask the hooves why they were making so much noise. He would have asked now, if his cranium weren't caved in so that some of his brains were dribbling out of his pointed nose. The hooves galloped into the distance.

The raccoon, Jesse, observed this occurrence, and gave the sigh of one who had seen this all too many times before. Roadkill swarmy became a popular entree for the local raven population and it would be a lie to say Jesse didn't take a gnaw from time to time. The raccoon didn't make a habit of being a scavenger ever since his father's stomach had exploded due to an exceptional tapeworm. Jesse didn't really know where tapeworms came from but he made an educated guess from his father's habit of killing field mice and letting them ferment under a dead tree.

He climbed down from the tree and shuffled to the middle of the dirt road where Locke was smooshed. He folded his paws and said some words. A little forest prayer that muttered things about the impossibilities of horse hooves. Wasn't all the swarmy's fault. Technology of the times. A horse was dangerous in itself, one ridden by a human encased in steel seemed to aim for woodland creatures in the road.

"Is Locke alright?"

Another swarmy, a female, scampered up and started poking the smeared body of Locke. "Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up. Why won't you wake up? MAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRG."

Jesse knew he would regret his next question, "What are you doing?"

"Mating call."

Jesse bit down on his ringed tail to muffle his hemorrhaging sanity before he could get himself to respond. "Oh. Locke is deep asleep right now, how about we go for a walk."

"OK."

Jesse worried about the survival rate of the swarmies. Their carcasses littered the landscape more often than the usual woodland creature. Sometimes it came from their sheer curiosity, like jumping from the top of the tallest pine to see if they could fly. Sometimes for more absurd reasons, like the one Jesse had found with multiple pine cones stuffed up its nose. The raccoon knew that he should not bother worrying; he had enough trouble scrounging up enough shrimp and slugs to fill his tummy. He still couldn't ignore how amazingly pitiful the swarmies were, and, blast, he would help at least one swarmy before the Land of Shiny Things took him away.

The female swarmy, Dirtclod, or Dirt for short, hummed a cheery tune.

"Do you creatures have any sense of survival?" Jesse asked.

"Sur-vi-vale. I never good at getting that sorta buggy, Mr. Jesse. It got big pinchers. RAR!" The swarmy imitated the pinchers with her forepaws and stalked about in a circle.

"Yes. You're right stupid question. I must tell you, Dirt, that this way of life, poking paws into badger dens or bloating up when finding out how bees kiss, not good things to do when trying to stay alive. I fear that swarmies won't live much longer in this valley."

A pause. From the blank distant expression upon Dirt's maw, Jesse almost let himself hope that this message was echoing down the empty chamber in her mind, perhaps to open up one brief whisker twitch of understanding.

"What would happen if I get wet?"

Jesse cocked his head at an angle. "I don't know."

"Mud. Get it? My name is Dirt. It would make Mud. Isn't that cool?"

"I do not understand the relevance of the question."

Dirt rolled about on the grass in her bubbling glee. It could be said at least, Jesse concluded, that rarely did a swarmy ever die sad. They always died with a wide smile on their maws and a twinkle in their eyes, tail wagging away to whatever afterlife they rose to. Dirt did show a slight more potential than the normal swarmy though. The raccoon took his pun on words as a sign of the swarmy's unhealthy obsession with human kind. Just as many swarmy were skinned and cooked as more natural cases of swarmy death. They just couldn't help scampering up to any nearby human and hugging a leg.

"Why do you like humans?" Jesse inquired. He rarely let himself be too curious, by counter-example of the swarmy. This question always whispered at the back of his mind. Beasts of the forests did not like humans and with good reason. Creators of metal jaws detached from bodies, shafts of wood to impale hides, trained monsters of slobbering jaws and barking. Indeed, humans were things to be feared.

Every darting twitch of Dirt stopped. She let her hind leg scratch her ear as her eyes glazed over, and a purple tongue flopped out. "Humans are nice. They go on quests with monsters and villains, and they save maidens in distress, villages in mortal danger, defeat monstrous dragons with firebreath that go ROAR. Humans are noble and brave and wear armor and meet kings. Humans do things and see things and have things and they LEARN things. They find unknowns."

"Unknowns..."

"Unknowns. Stuffs beasts don't know. I wanna help find stuff beasts don't know. I wanna help a human someday."

Jesse was impressed that a swarmy had used the phrase "mortal danger" while actually appearing to know its meaning. Dirt drooled a little in the aftermath of her colloquy. Jesse clicked his claws to snap her out of it.

"Don't you see how awesome humans are?"

Jesse stared at the swarmy, set against a landscape of greens and dappled light, the buzz of insects on the air, a slight breeze hinted of lavender. How could he see that? He lived in the woods, apart from humans, who as far as he knew, obliterated the woods where ever they existed (or so his grizzled great uncle had said seasons back after a run in with a band of fur traders). He never liked the sound of the word "obliterated." Yet he could see how calm the swarmy sat there, now lost in the midst of her dreams about humans.

"Dirt. That's not..."

A rustling of bushes. A large sound. A plodding through the woods. Bear? Boar? Buffulo? Bandersnatch? Jesse chided himself for reading that B volume of words he'd found in an abandoned cabin when he was too young to know better. And between two birch trees, a silhouette appeared against the twilight sun, tall, gallant. The flanks of the horse glimmered, the armor of its rider gleamed, the smile the rider contained on its face shined. It shined so much so that Jesse had a primal instinct that wanted to climb up and tried to rip it off the face that held it. Instead, the other part of his primal instinct hit, the one that came when a human stumbled into proximity, hiding behind something. The something was the still dazed swarmy. He curled up and closed his eyes, waiting for the moment to be over, hoping not to be impaled.

"Are you a swarmy?"

No impaling. Jesse removed his paws from his eyes. The voice sounded not at all blood thirsty or combustible. He sat up. Dirt was only moving her maw wordlessly. Jesse looked again at the figure. Not half as intimidating upon the second look. Gangly round the edges. The armor tarnished, brackish even. The smile still shiny. The human spoke again.

"I have come through this way because I have been told that swarmies live here. Companions for a questing soul, small creatures of helpful natures and quizzical minds. Are one of you a swarmy?"

Strange. This human had a familiar tone. A strange inflection that Jesse knew well, that odd naive of a swarmy, a voice that told of wonder and hope and likableness and…swarmy-ish.

The raccoon cleared his throat and pointed at Dirt. "Here, take this one."

The swarmy squeed.

161
Writer's Guild / Re: "Bloodbeast in Linens"
« on: February 08, 2009, 12:27:17 AM »
Why thank ye. It's one of the few good things to come out of the infamous Adventures in Clothes retail before it self-destructed in a grand example of corporate downfall and human regression. (But that's for another story.)

Fun fact: Actually did have a manager named "Rick"...

162
Random Topics / Re: Sports
« on: February 07, 2009, 11:14:13 PM »
Ah, golf, that class reminded me so much of bowling. So many different tactics and lessons, but one could never quite think too much about a shot or else it was doomed off the tee and in the gutter. Very oddly familiar, and I could never quite be consistent in either. The scores always be all around the board.

What sport I need to get back into is casual cross-country skiing. The ab needs rescue.

163
Writer's Guild / "Bloodbeast in Linens"
« on: February 07, 2009, 11:10:06 PM »
Trying to lure myself to the forums and posting a short story for the heck of it. [:)

Note: Inspired from time working in clothes retail.

Bloodbeast in Linens

"Excuse me, sir, there seems to be a creature of some sort in your store."

"Of course there is."

"No, I'm serious, I saw it shuffle past the board games aisle."

"Usually doesn't go thataways," the retail store greeter rubbed his chin, still flashing the professionally trained reassuring smile, while retaining complete attention, with a dash of serious disposition. This expression took much practice in front of mirrors in the frame aisle.

"You don't seem surprised."

"Let us walk and I'll explain."

"Don't tell me that there actually is a creature wandering the aisles of this store."

"My explanation will be fairly short if I don't."

The customer glanced at his cheap, rip-off Timex digital, pressed a few buttons to check the humidity in the store, and shrugged. "Tell me then."

"There is indeed a creature dwelling the sneaker scuffed linoleum of this store of retail, of power and fierceness far beyond human comprehension."

"Really..."

"Indeed, we have bowed to its wills the past many seasons, unable to throw off the yoke of its presence."

"So, you accept that there is a dangerous creature here. Would think you would fear the thing harming customers."

"Oh, he's a shy beast, holes himself up in a den most of the time, only coming out when required, or when hungry."

The customer's eyebrows rose, "What does a creature like that tend to eat? It looked...bloodthirsty with those jaws."

The employee straightened his nametag, seeming a little wary to continue, "Oh, beef jerky usually satisfies him, or a few dozen packs of the toxic Peeps. Only occasionally, when ill-tempered, does he turn the brunt of his vicious temper upon one of our staff or even an unwary shoplifter."

The customer noticed a blue vested employee, using a tag gun to sticker a jar of body butter over and over again. He didn't inquire. "Have there been any attempts to be rid of this...beast?"

"Yes. We sent for an expert, a person from the district HQ came, with confidence, a Scooby Doo tie, and an intricately worded memo. He was found four days later in Pet Food singing the Meow Mix theme amidst a torrent of spilled Alpo. He didn’t say what happened, he just kept singing the song." The employee sighed, "All of us realized, that maybe if we just left him alone, and let him keep to his daily routine, the store would be better off." The retail store employee nodded, a reflective acceptance in his matter.

"That explains...there it is!" the customer pointed off down a nearby aisle, in linens and towels. Between disheveled shelves and beneath flickering, buzzing florescent lights, a creature dozed in a nest of plush towels, fluffy pillows, and flowery sheets. The beast, of black iridescent scales, snaggly toothed jaw, massive gray claws, and sharp edges everywhere, opened one blood red eye, seeming to take in the customer and employee. Disinterested with the view, it closed the eye, shifted around on its back to show its ivory colored stomach, the tail flicked, a leg twitched.

The employee stepped forward, "Oh is this who you were talking about?"

"Ur...yes," the customer tentatively followed, confused.

The employee picked a clothes hanger off the floor, came up to the beast, and scratched it on the belly with the metal hook part. The beast purred.

"This is Gooby, our resident bloodbeast. He's a great night guard, but gentle as a kitty during the day."

A forked tongue flopped out of Gooby's maw in relaxed pleasure.

"Then...who..."

A roar sounded. At the end of the aisle a blue vested, middle aged, balding man stood, clipboard in hand. The customer could read the name tag, that read in large ominous letters: "Manager.”

The employee nodded, "Right away Rick, those t-shirts shal be color coordinated for sure."

The man roared again, then stalked away.

The employee gave the customer the well-practiced helpful individual look, "Anything else you need today?"

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