DAISHI

So the goal is 20,000 words per week for the next month. Fell behind by 15,000 words this week... currently trying to make it up. At 4,000 words today, hopefully 10,000 by the end of the night!

(Working on the book proposal, be back in five hours)

The grinding stone. Maestro delighted in it, delighted in it as much as he did in chess or murder. It was a simple device, a wheel-like device that rotated in place, sat upright, against which a man put the curve of his blade. The high pitched squealing of the metal wrecked havoc on the ears, but Maestro loved it, seeing the edge of the blade growing sharper and sharper,the point refined so that it would cut through a man as easily as through butter. His palm lay against the flat of the blade, turning it at just the right angle, allowing the knife to strike the stone so that it sharpened without breaking. It grew loud enough that the mammoth Goobbue startled awake and, gripping his malformed head, rose upwards. At seven feet tall he nearly touched the roof of their room overlooking the nearby waterline, and the sun pouring in offended the newly-awakened giant's eyesight. He groused as he looked away, finding Maestro there, turning his blades onto the grinding stone. "So glad to see you alive," Maestro said with a grin, waving the knife in the direction of the large, deformed Hyur. "We've got work for you, you know. Or the Leader does, whatever. Not like I need your help." His smile spread over his face, teeth like daggers cut against each other. "Not getting started til it's real late though. Why don't you head outside and get some food? I know you're hungry."

A gust of wind from nowhere bellowed through the area as the chef raised his hand, the chief assistant - the sous chef - walking up to the head chef and ripping the white garments off the man's body. In its place were left glimmering robes of red and gold. The head chef tossed his white hat into the air with a flourish, the current of air taking it to parts unknown as the man's head was adorned by a red and gold chef's hat. He thrust his hands skywards, flames flying from all the mobile cooking stations all at once in a magnificent display of flames and light, bursting upwards as a cloud of doves flew out of the kitchen and through the door, back onto the streets. Sous-Chef Kaji threw his hands towards the head chef, shouting "Warrior Chef Hai declares the opening of..." "MAAAAGGGGGNEEEEESSSIIUUUUMMMM CCCCCHHHHEEEEEEFFFFFFFAAARRRUUU!!!!!" Hai shouted as the music reached a fever pitch, all going dark in the restaurant for a moment. When the lights raised, four warrior chefs stood, all ready for magnesium chef combat, only waiting for the sous-chef to introduce them.

Repost: What!? THE ONLY RULES ARE ZANINESS. MAAAAAAGGGGGNEEEEESSSSIIIIIIUUUMMMMM CHEEEEEFAAARRUUUUUU!!!!

And I'm not religious I just have a certain view that there are absolute rights and wrongs. I didn't try to prescribe what those were. It's not a fair shake to talk about how uncertain morality is and then to suggest I shouldn't talk about absolute moralities.

Um, didn't I say from the start my worldview was different?

It's subjective to the human, it's not subjective to the divine. What man does is try to meet the divine to the best of his ability, but that doesn't mean the divine standard changes.

My contention was that if one believes in a divine component of morality to set an objective standard, that while there are fluctuations in what is tolerated between individuals or societies, that there are also hard limits on what can be considered right or wrong.

Actually somewhere along the way we've gotten entirely confused because I would never purposely make that argument. We will do this over when I get back from seaworld.

What one believes to be righ does not necessary make it right in a ethical code that rests on objective morality. When one subscribes to a subjective code then all things can be right.

I typically post where it fits. My characters aren't suddenly going to get involved in a guard interrogation. They're more likely to appear in the underground, Maestro on the rough end, Leader on the business end.

@ArmachiA That's a post-modernist version of ambiguous morality I don't subscribe to.

The chef, tapping his foot, looked about. "Though this is HIGHLY UNUSUAL!" he shouted for no reason, "I can allow twenty minutes before we begin! It will gives us time to bring up more ingredients from the back!"

From the bowels of the Cooking Guild music suddenly began to resound through the building as another parade of assistance started filtering into the restaurant, each one of them hauling large devices in which coals were alit, pots full of boiling water sitting atop them, obviously to be used for the competition. The sous-chef, directing all of this, growled for the competitors to take their places at the various mobile-cooking stations being set up about the restaurant, the mixing sounds of clambering pots and overwhelming music bellowing out into the streets.

The chef of the Cooking Guild poked his head into the restaurant. "What the hell do you all think you're doing? Don't you realize this is where we train our students?" He walked over to the diminutive Lalfell, an army of chefs-in-training, all dressed in white aprons, following behind him. "Here now, it's after hours. If you're going to be in here you're going to be doing what all after-hours people do!" With that he shoved an apron over the Lalafell's body, indicating for the rest of the chefs to do the same to all others standing about the restaurant. The chef, excited, pulled a large butcher's knife from hammerspace. "Now, you're all just in time! We were just about to play a game we like to call..." He bent over, breathing in a massive breath and then turning upwards with a gigantic shout, "MAGNESIUM CHEEEEEEEEFFFFFFFF!!!!!!!"

Yeah which is why in stories I've used of the Empire I've always use humanoid mercenaries hired out to the empire rather than them being traditional soldiers themselves of that country.

All respects to Constable, I disagree.

"A true villain never dirties his hands unless he absolutely must." This statement is absolutely untrue. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carl_Panzram

The Leader pushed up his spectacles along his nose, flush to his face, a dissatisfied scowl marking his features. "Maybe you want me to congratulate you on killing Galatius? We were here on business, Maestro. Now you've put us at war with One-Eye." His fingers wrapped tightly into a fist. "How are we supposed to do that here, in Limsa Lominsa? All of our power is in Ul'dah. We simply don't have the manpower to fight back here. It's not just One-Eye we have to worry about, either. The city watch is looking out for us now. You don't think that people didn't report us for starting that brawl? What about the fact that I contributed to the fire that nearly extinguished the Bismarck?" The bald headed Maestro, in one of his lucid states, only stared back at the Leader, his eyes cold. "Do you think I need a reason to kill a man, Tervanius?" His fingers drummed the table exactly once. "No. I wouldn't think yourself so important, either, that I would shed tears if you were." "I don't deceive myself into thinking you would, however, if you really want to expand into this area there are certain things that need to be done. You can't come here with Goobbue and I and expect to start tearing the place apart. Again, we don't have the force." "Well then we hire the force!" Maestro shouted, slamming his fist down on the table. "That's the whole purpose we run the casinos and sell the drugs and run the weapons. To put a little excitement in the locals." The Leader sighed, his fingers rising to his forehead, squeezing at the bridge of his nose. "Alright then. You're looking to hire. In a city that is mostly slaved to One-Eye." "Greed moves men, Tervanius. They'll go to the highest bidder. I'm willing to bet there are plenty of people in this city selling their services elsewhere than One-Eye's racket." A grin crossed his face, madness dancing just beyond sanity in his eyes. "I'm right, and I think you know where we can hire." "Perhaps," the Leader said, glancing upward at the roof of their room. "You know it too." "Jiver's Den," Maestro said, his finger sliding to his chest, extracting a lengthy blade. "But I'm in it to play two sides of the game, Tervanius. I want men. Brutal. Willing to do anything for coin. I also want in on that drug ring." "Too risky. If Fikker's Crew finds out that you're trying to hire out their muscle at the same time that you're trying to buy from their ring..." The madness in Maestro's eyes flared. "They'll what, Tervanius? Come after me?" He slammed the knife down into the table, its sharpened edge slicing cleanly through to the handle. "Let 'em. They can chase me all the way to One-Eye's door and then we can let them slice each other's throats up." He narrowed his gaze with the Leader's, eyes slightly close, his voice hissing with a snake's threat. "I want those drugs though, and I want those men, and I'm going to have them." The Leader nodded, looking aside to the sleeping Goobbue, all eight feet and seven hundred pounds of him. "Let me handle the business end. I'll establish a line of business with Fikker. Goobbue will go with me, show we're serious." "So you're leaving me to the scoundrels?" His smile widened, teeth grit against each other. "I love this plan, Tervanius. I think we're going to put on a real big show in this town."

For those of you who have never read, here's a primer on villains that is humorous but accurate: The Complete Monster: http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/M ... eteMonster (Maestro is this. Has no conscious and will do anything without impact to his psychology.) Obviously Evil: http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/M ... iouslyEvil Card Carrying Villain: http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/M ... ingVillain The Big Bad: http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BigBad (Maestro) The Dragon: http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TheDragon (The Leader)

I want absolute control over my property and earn money form it myself instead of paying people to supervise. lol. It's not that... it's just a lot of great artists aren't great writers. And vice versa.

(Yes by work we mean a book proposal due in a month and I'm 80,000 words short ) The wind whipped at them, Kain's grin growing as the waters beneath began to rush at them, forming a black wall broken up by waves that was soon to hit. Holding tight to the simple staff in his hand, he thrust his hand forward, a swell of air suddenly rushing up from the space beneath them. The surface of the water whipped at them as the winds rose up off the shoal off the shallows, pushing along towards the watery depths towards which the two men were plummeting. A sudden, surging gust pushed up off the ocean surface, blasting them so strongly that they were set off course, their downward momentum suddenly shifting as they were buoyed inwards, just slightly back towards the prison. The sudden break in their fall prevented what would have most likely been a fatal landing, though as their backs crashed into the waves Kain could feel a sudden pang in his back, as the strike was still hard. Their bodies sank underneath the dark line of the water, plunging into its grasp a moment before the two suddenly surged back upwards to the surface. Kain gasped at air even as a wave crashed into their frames, carrying them backwards even further. His gaze flew to the rear, towards the direction of the inbound current. He thought he could see someone swimming in the distance.

Even in a lot of smaller comic products there is usually a different writer from the comic creator. Web comics are the obvious exception.

So your fiction short stories are along the lines of what you were posting in the Gallery?