I know I've been busy, but I'm not dead.
I have had a bit of a tragedy. I let my roommate borrow my laptop and he accidently uploaded something that caused my computer to crash. The result was that Sokka versus Hannibal was totally erased. I was able to save my work on Mental vs Cycloids by emailing it to a friend for review but Sokka vs Hannibal is irretrievably deleted.
And frankly I'm a bit choked by that.
Still much as that saddens me I still have Mental vs Cycloids and another friend who edited some work on my rebel alliance profile gave me half of what I'd written before, so it's half alive.
My schedule is hella busy, so I haven't done as much chatting or writing as I used to, but I'm doing enough writing to keep happy.
So I'm going to redo Hannibal vs Sokka, better written and more exciting than before.
And as a bonus, here's a little preview of my Death Battle: Vampire Royale
Dracula held the handkerchief over his face. The stench was overwhelming. It smelled like a hospital ward; rotting skin, badly functioning kidneys and overflowing bedpans. It reminded the count of the final days of the black plague that tore apart Europe all those centuries ago.
Sitting in front of him with a TV turned on was the scout. Dracula's eyes narrowed. Scout was slouched in his chair and there was no heartbeat or breathing.
The count stepped forward, careful to avoid the clear and rapidly drying pool of . . . guano? Tick shit? Whatever the stuff was.
He put a hand on the Scout, only for the young man to fall out of his chair and land on the wooden floor of the Red Team's base. Scout's skin was pale and his hair was falling out in patches. he seemed dead, but Dracula could feel the feverish heat radiating off his body and on a much more psychic level could feel cell division and biological life carrying on. And he could hear almost what sounded like . . . worms maybe, crawling inside Scout's body.
The ancient vampire looked dispassionately at the Scout. He'd intended to kill the boy, but it looked like somebody had beaten him to it. That someone needed to be eliminated.
He turned around, getting ready to morph into a bat and fly off when he heard something.
Spinning around, he saw the Scout getting up. The young man wobbled on the spot as if drunk. His unfocused eyes rolled around the room, not really seeing anything. Suddenly, his eyes stopped on the Count, a clicking noise forming in Scout's throat as he did so.
"Mr. Renfield?" Dracula asked, confused by the creature that the Scout had become.
Scout was truly gone, and the creature in his place had a fast and violent response to the count. From out of his mouth shot a long tentacle appendage like an inverted esophagous. The bone stinger shone in the sick TV light and flew toward's the Count's throat. Responding like a coiled cobra, Dracula grabbed the ex-Scout's tentacle tongue in mid air.
The Count flew at the infected Scout, fangs gleaming and eyes blood red. Holding the tentacle in his right hand, he raised his left hand and smashed the Scout's collar bone wit ha loud crack. The creature shrieked, causing the Count to grin madly; good, the little beast could feel pain.
Scout's hands groped blindly for Dracula. The Count in turn grabbed Scout's right arm and twisted, breaking the wrist bone and dislocating the elbow joint. More shrieks from the infected beast made the Count's smile widen. Planting a foot on Scout's chest, he pulled with all his might. With a small tear and a pop, the tentacle tongue tore out; spewing white blood and thing horsehair like worms everywhere.
The Scout creature was thrown against a wall as the Count threw a punch at its head almost strong enough to knock its head off. Tired of toying with this creature, Dracula threw down the tongue and grabbed the Scout-creature by the throat. The thing incoherently shrieked; a gibbering mindless noise of a wounded creature. There was no intelligence in there, but as Dracula scanned the monster's mind, he could feel a presence. Somehting was using the Scout's body, controlling it like a puppet.
Dracula snarled and bared his fangs, "I'm coming for you," he said to the mysterious puppet master. Smiling once more, he put both his hands around Scout's had and began to press in. The Scout creature gave one last shriek of pain before Dracula crushed its head between his hands. The Count grinned as the body fell to the floor; the white blood not bothering him one bit.
That was when Dracula heard the explosion.
Skinner sweet was happier than a pig in shit. He fired his BAR into the air to wake up the Team Fortress Mercs. This wasn't just a job for him, this was about having a good time--the violent kind.
"Oh Mercs!" Skinner sang, "Come out to plaaaa---aaayyyy!!!!!!"
Up in the RED base, Dracula looked out the window at Skinner and seethed with rage. So there was not one but two freaks challenging his authority here. Both would suffer.
Skinner caught sight of Dracula and with is BAR put a bullet right through Dracula's eye. The American vampire laughed as the Count was knocked back by the shot.
Meanwhile, in the sewers of 2Fort, Sardu crouched in the darkness. The ancient monster was hunched over, clad in filth encrusted and thousand times patched brown robes. He heard the violence above and sensed the two other vampires getting ready to fight. Interesting,
he purred to himself in a psychic voice.
It's a rough draft but I hope you like it