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Nuju Metru

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Blog Entries posted by Nuju Metru

  1. Nuju Metru

    Smooch Smooch

    By Nuju Metru,

    Pretty much my whole rehearsal today was spent on the big kissing scene, which involved deep, soul-on-soul gazes, lots of me affectionately touching her face, smiling, holding hands/waists/shoulders, and being close enough that every part of us was touching.
     
    Not to mention kissing. Lots of that, too.
     
    -Nuju Metru
  3. Nuju Metru
    I love minimum days. I have one tomorrow, too, so me and some friends are gonna go to this incredible burger joint downtown, which'll be sweet... And then no school on wednesday. And we're playing Quidditch in P.E.
     
    I have a five-hour rehearsal later today (we're gonna do tech and costumes and stuff), and then one thursday and then we open on friday night.
     
    Shaping up to be an awesome week.
     
    -Nuju Metru
  5. Nuju Metru

    Ticked Off

    By Nuju Metru,

    They aren't making a DVD for our play. And recordings aren't allowed.
     
    Stupid copyright laws on The Sound Of Music.
     
    Hopefully my mom will get some illegal footage of it, tho. =P
     
    -Nuju Metru
  9. Nuju Metru
    Kinda funny. See, I've been trying to blog about something for days, but, whenever I got to the "new entry" page, I just couldn't think of what to blog.
     
    So I'm blogging about how I couldn't blog.
     
    Yes, I'm that boring.
     
    -Nuju Metru
  10. Nuju Metru

    Kvetching.

    By Nuju Metru,

    I'm literally unable to concentrate on anything right now.
     
    It's mostly the same question, reverberating in my head, which I know I'll prolly never answer... but keep asking myself anyway. And with it comes all those distractingly wonderful memories and feelings...
     
    Gah.
    How I'm expected to write a freaking paper at a time like this I have no clue.
     
    Plus, I have to clean my MOCing-parts-cluttered room by tomorrow.
     
    ><
     
    -Nuju Metru
  11. Nuju Metru
    Okay.
     
    As some of you know, I made an entry saying that I was going to be on TV. I wasn't lying. It wasn't a fake. I was in fact invited to be on the Dr. Phil Show. For real.
     
    That's why I ask all of you to believe that when I tell you in complete honesty that my mom and I decided not to do it. After a talk, we found that it just wasn't something we actually wanted or felt the need to do. I have a huge rehearsal for the play tomorrow (when I woulda left), which would suck to miss, lots of homework inevitably would pile up, etc...
     
    This isn't me covering for a ruse. It isn't my fabricated excuse for not appearing on a TV show that I wasn't going to be on in the first place. I was invited. I was going to be on it. But I decided not to. I'm not lying about this.
     
    Any of you who're disappointed by my choice, I'm sorry. I just found that my play and schoolwork were more important to me than being on TV. Goes to show something about my priorities, I guess.
     
    Thanks for reading.
     
    -Nuju Metru
  13. Nuju Metru
    If you'd read and give feedback on this, I'd be very happy.
     
    …
     
    The benevolent sun sank below the horizon as twilight came,
    Its dying amber rays illuminating a canyon, with cliffs of
    Sharp crags to define its sides. Mighty mountains were these,
    Impossible to scale or pass, except by the road through the valley.
    This narrow breach was blocked, however, by an impregnable
    Fortress, a wall of stone harder than steel, with huge doors of oak and
    A wrought-iron portcullis to defend its single entryway.
     
    This castle blockade was The Gauntlet, and it had never
    Been taken, nor had its single wall been broken
    Since its creation. It was a solid giant of man’s forging, with the purpose
    Of keeping out those sinister and hostile forces, the warriors of a thousand years past;
    The armies of the undying. Rallied into service by dark sorcerers,
    These grim reincarnations existed for only the purpose of war
    And bringing suffering and pain to those who yet lived in full.
     
    Of late, strength had been gathering in the lands claimed by the
    Forces of death; For a new leader, he who was most powerful of all Necromancers,
    Scallow of Uthras, Scythe-Wielder, had taken control. He used his unrivalled prowess in
    Dark magic to confer with the Greater Dead,
    Gods of the underworld, even bartering with
    Xethrinn the All-Powerful, King of Death, and from this forbidden conference
    Gained a force of undead warriors the scale of which had never appeared before.
     
    It was this army which was now marching through the narrow canyon
    Towards the Gauntlet. Hundreds of thousands of skinless, rotting feet trod
    In unnatural unison, a marching horde of the dead bent upon breaking the great barrier.
    Rusting armor and wicked blades clanged and rattled as Scallow’s troops moved
    Their muscles and skin and tendons all greyed in death, ravaged organs clinging and hanging
    From cracked, moldy bones. Upon sharp, tall pikes within the mass fluttered
    Black banners, emblazoned with the emblem of a white skeletal hand, the seal of Scallow of Uthras.
     
    But it was behind the legions of infantry that true beasts of war stood.
    Gigantic, heavy war-machines had been built for this assault, wooden menaces
    Which cast long shadows in the dying sun’s radiance. The huge weapons included
    Trebuchets loaded with boulders the size of cattle,
    Mortars with powerful metal shots,
    Repeating guns which spewed forth fire from inside armored wagons,
    Giant crossbows with arrows the size of spears,
    Tall siege towers and ladders, and chariots pulled by half-eroded horses,
    Equipped with rotating bronze axes which chopped and spun as the wheels rolled.
    Above all the land-locked equipment swooped gliders,
    The bat-like wings of which beat up and down
    In a frenzied struggle to remain airborne. They were laden with incendiaries and bombs
    Designated to tear the Gauntlet apart.
     
    Upon the parapets of the Gauntlet, high above these amassed armies of evil,
    Stood Charon, the elderly conjurer, his raven hair and silver mantle caught in the chill breeze.
    Charon was first of the land’s wizards to become aware of Scallow’s lust for power
    And of the creation of his armies.
    The raven-haired Wizard was quick to alert the kings and rulers of the lands,
    Who, upon realizing the threat that the scythe-wielder and his armies posed, had created
    An alliance of three races, those of dwarves, the skilled engineers and miners,
    Of the lithe and skilled elves, masters of magic and archery,
    And of men, the populous and militaristic race of ambition.
     
    The side of life had, upon the founding of its unity, began to produce
    War-weapons and fortresses of their own. Charon devised a certain potion from
    His tower laboratory, An acid, which, when it came into contact
    With those who were dead, would melt and corrode their bodies,
    Leaving only spirits which were free to return to quiet death and to rest in peace.
    Dwarvish inventors took this acid, and created a special bolt
    which contained it until impact, whereupon
    The magical compound would splatter over whatever object had shattered its vial.
    Armed with these special projectiles, the rapid-fire guns commissioned
    By the men-kings were customized for compatibility, and
    Would prove to be devastating against any warrior of the dead.
     
    Charon stood on the battlements close to one of these aptly named “Deadkiller Guns” which was mounted on the wall.
    He stared down with hard eyes into the sea of troops and siege engines
    The first line of which had halted perhaps five-score feet from the base of the wall.
     
    “Why have they stopped, sir?” A voice asked from behind Charon. The raven-haired wizard turned,
    To find himself facing his apprentice, Orion,
    A youthful elf of prodigal magical potential, who Charon had taken on
    As an apprentice, to hone and refine the growing creature’s gifts.
     
    The raven-haired wizard gave reply to his pupil, voice contemplative.
     
    “I know not, Orion. Perhaps the armies of Death
    Await a signal or a command to commence in their attack.
    For, you do know, as I have taught you, that reincarnated servants
    Do not operate without the command of a master.
    However, this falls into question;
    We have not seen Scallow of Uthras commanding in person at a battle
    For some time. I know only of one other way he could give orders
    To his soldiers; if one of the Gods of the Dead had sent him a very rare
    And very dangerous form of aid.
    If Scallow has the Men Who Are Not Men under his command,
    If his ranks include those most grievous of undead demons,
    The Wraithra, then all is explained.
    As is doom spelled out for each and every one of us.”
     
    Just as the wise wizard finished speaking, there was a visible stirring of the mindless dead below.
    The hordes parted, forming an aisle down their middle.
    What rode through that passageway confirmed their worst fears.
    A figure, roughly humanoid, composed entirely of shadows,
    Which seemed to form a cloak of darkness about its body,
    Rode at a canter through the parted ranks of warriors below upon a skeletal black steed.
    Where its head should have been, there was naught but void, upon which sat
    An ornate, wicked-looking open-faced helm, with spikes arranged around the top
    Forming a crown. For this was indeed a prince, one of the princes of darkness,
    A Wraithra.
     
    When the Man Who Was Not A Man reached the wall of the Gauntlet, it reached inside its
    Cloak of deepest shadow, and from the billowing, gaseous folds, pulled a blade
    An alien blade, forged of some unearthly substance, a transparent, green sword
    That glowed and shone with an unholy corpse-light.
    The Wraithra let loose an ear-piercing shriek, part war-cry, part laugh,
    And thrust its strange, deadly weapon into the air
    Upon which both the dark sword and dark being exploded into verdant fire,
    Tendrils of supernatural flame licking in and out of the sinister helm.
     
    The thousands of fallen warriors before it followed this example,
    Jeering, shouting, and groaning, they rose their own rusted weapons
    Creating a horrifying racket
    Sending fear to the hearts of every man, elf and dwarf
    Atop the wall of the impregnable Gauntlet.
    Orion swore beneath his breath, and Charon mumbled
    An ancient protective spell, hoping to ward off some of the evil of the Wraithra.
    In the same moment, the Man Who Was Not A Man turned his steed
    To face the fortress before it, and brought its alien weapon
    Down, describing a large arc, and giving the order to its army
    To commence in the attack.
     
    With a whoosh, the trebuchets’ long arms swung up, their counterweights dropped,
    Slinging their boulders at the Gauntlet’s high wall with massive strength.
    The first rock to hit took with it a fair chunk of masonry, to be sure,
    But the wall held firm and strong. More projectiles from the mortars and catapults
    Had similarly little effect, merely denting the impregnable fortress.
    But the barrage was steady, and it was clear to those assembled
    That after a time, even if a long time,
    The wall could perhaps fall.
     
    At another point on the wall, close to where the raven-haired Charon stood,
    One of the tall siege towers rolled on studded wheels towards its destination,
    Pushed by hundreds of the dead, intended to gain the attacking army access to the parapets.
    As Charon looked on, Orion behind him sprang into the control seat
    Of the mounted Deadkiller Gun. The young elf stared intently through the crosshairs, targeting
    Those of Scallow’s troops who were moving the lofty wooden machine far below.
    Then he turned the operation crank.
     
    With a roaring sound, the weapon began to discharge its
    Acid-filled projectiles, the gravity-reloading magazine rhythmically falling as shots flew forth into the
    Mass of warriors moving the siege tower with a stunning efficiency and speed.
    Deadkiller arrows peppered the horde heavily
    Upon striking a target, their glass chambers shattered
    Releasing the potent substance held there with a splatter. Wherever the clear acid
    Made contact with a being of death, it sizzled and burned, corroding
    And melting away bone, rotted skin, and shredded muscle, until nothing remained of the
    Summoned spirit’s body.
     
    It was in this manner that Orion banished a large portion of the siege tower’s pushers.
    But as one dead soldier fell, another replaced him,
    So numerous were they. Soon, the elf had run out of ammunition, and was unable to further prevent the tower from approaching. It got within ten feet of the Gauntlet’s huge wall, but then,
    Seemingly from nowhere,
    A bundle of dynamite, fuse lit, sailed through
    The air, landing on the top of the wooden tower’s archer platform.
    With a bang, the grenade combusted, blasting a fist of flame
    Into the air. The tower’s top exploded apart, splintered wood and warped metal flying in every direction.
     
    Charon and Orion both turned back to see from where this aid had come, and their eyes
    Were met with the sight of the human engineer Derringer, a bandolier draped
    Over his grease-stained apron and armor. From it dangled more dynamite, engineer’s tools, and a Shining sword. Atop his head sat a battered leather helmet, and a pair of welding goggles.
    Derringer smiled cockily at his two allies, and spoke with a similar attitude.
     
    “It’s a good thing I came when I did,
    That tower was awful close. I daresay you two
    Would not have fared nearly so well
    Had my devices not been there to solve the problem.”
     
    Neither the young elf nor elderly conjurer had any time to reply, however,
    For above their heads in that moment the enemy’s gliders soared
    Bat-like wings fluttering and beating to keep the vehicles airborne.
    A trio of these mechanical birds it was, that flew above the top of the Gauntlet’s high battlements
    And, upon reaching the part of parapet
    Which had been constantly battered down by the
    Trebuchets and cannon of Scallow’s forces, dropped their loads.
    The gliders let go the bombs they had been carrying
    And then it was that all chaos broke loose.
     
    The bricks of the Gauntlet’s wall, before so adamant and solid
    Crumbled and broke when the bombs exploded, sending huge chunks of masonry
    Falling down to the ground, crushing hundreds of the dead who were close to the wall
    Under an avalanche of stone.
    Once the formerly proud structure had finished with its dying throes,
    And the dust had cleared, there was left a rent in the previously impenetrable barrier that
    The Gauntlet had been.
     
    With a great and terrible cheer, the mass of deathly soldiers outside of the Gauntlet swarmed
    Towards the newly-created breach, a mass of movement so vast that it appeared an ocean.
    But they were met by a line of men with large shields, and with axe-wielding dwarves
    A formidable melee force, which easily defended the narrow rift
    And cut and slashed and stabbed at the oncoming sea of skeletons.
    Elvish archers stood atop the wall on either side of the breach, and skillfully fired
    Arrow after arrow into the fray.
     
    The side of life held its ground even against their numerical disadvantage
    For a time. But the tilting of favor changed
    When, galloping agilely through the swarm of dead on its bony steed
    Rode the nightmarish Wraithra, corpse-blade raised
    And whole form covered in dancing green fire.
    Time seemed to slow
    As the demon flew forward, evil radiating from it as its stallion carried it towards the small force
    Of living beings who had held off Scallow’s armies.
     
    Directing one shadowy hand at the wall of Dwarves and Men, the Man Who Was Not A Man
    Spurted forth a long tendril of sickly flame from its palm.
    With the chain of glowing fire, the Wraithra targeted one of the strongest-looking men in the crowd
    And threw its energy at that man, using the green flame to lift him off the ground.
    The man screamed as his attacker lazily flicked its wrist back, directing with it
    The string of fire, and flinging the man hundreds of feet into the air, sending him
    Sailing backward into the army of corpses behind, whereupon he was devoured.
     
    Charon, Orion, and Derringer
    Watched this spectacle in horror. The Wraithra mercilessly killed several more
    Using its sword, the ominous blade shrieking through the air as it took life after life.
    Orion started forward in anger, his crossbow primed, but Charon held him
    From dashing down into the battle below. The Raven-Haired wizard chided his apprentice.
     
    “Orion, patience! Your crossbow stands no chance
    In the face of a Wraithra. No mortal weapon, in fact
    Can defeat it; were you to try, it would be suicidal.
    No, the only method possible to destroy one of them
    Would be by using magic, and no mean magic at that.
    Tell me, apprentice, have you still that azure crystal
    Which I gave you in the beginning? Remember,
    I said, ‘Keep this crystal well, Orion, for you may well need it.’
    Yes, now you recall! Fetch me this crystal, boy
    For it is a very powerful magical object; its natural substance is
    Most abhorrent to the dead, and, if I remember correctly, to
    Wraithra as well. “
     
    Orion silently rifled through his bag, searching it for the blue stone Charon had given him.
    Upon finding it, the prodigious elf handed the crystal
    A stone no bigger than his palm, and unrefined
    To Charon. The wizard then fixed this small but powerful item
    Atop his oaken staff, then wordlessly motioning for his two comrades to follow him down to the breach.
     
    By the time the trio of heroes had reached the area of conflict,
    Their archenemy had already slain almost the entirety of troops who had blocked the
    Wall-breach. Only enough yet survived to desperately pen in the eager tide
    Of undead. Orion leapt like a deer onto the slanting side of the broken wall,
    Crouched there, and let fly a quiver-full of arrows from his crossbow,
    Felling a fair number of his adversaries. Derringer joined the thinning line of
    Defenders, using his shining blade to parry and hold back Scallow’s armies.
     
    Charon targeted the Wraithra, his staff emitting bursts of bright light from its knobbed end,
    The flashes of magical energy magnetically drawn to the demon.
    However, each one of the raven-haired wizard’s assaults was in turn devoured by
    The dancing green flame which engulfed the Man Who Was Not A Man.
     
    But when the elderly conjurer swung his staff, crystal-embedded end forward, at his foe
    Its skeletal mount reared backward in fear and alarm as the blue stone
    Came close, its internal phosphorescence glowing brighter as it swooshed past.
    The Wraithra shrieked in shock, pain, and fury, and swung its verdant, wicked sword
    Down at Charon’s staff, severing the thick wood shortly below where the crystal was affixed
    Cleaving it entirely with a single strike.
    The enchanted rock fell to the ground with a dull thud.
     
    Orion watched from his perch on the crumbled bricks of the huge wall as
    His mentor’s long staff was severed and its effective tip was lost.
    The nimble elf sprang from his perch and down towards the place where it had fallen,
    Landing on a number of the dead as he made it to earth.
    The prodigious apprentice quickly stood, and pushed aside
    Those in his path as he made his way towards the crystal’s place in the dirt,
    About which the Man Who Was Not A Man’s steed tread nervously.
    Orion wasted no time in making his move.
    He darted forward, and quickly snatched the powerful blue stone,
    Only barely avoiding the dark stamping hooves of
    The bony black horse as he slid on the ground head-first, crystal clutched in his outstretched hands.
     
    Orion heard flame crackle behind him as the Wraithra’s hand
    Sprung into animated green fire, and it launched a ball of the otherworldly energy.
    But its projectile never reached its intended target. An invisible shield, created by Charon,
    Now stood between Orion and his enemy; the orb of flame dissipated
    With a hiss as it met the force-field.
    The Wraithra turned to the aging wizard with another wrathful, spine-tingling cry,
    And directed its streaming attack at him instead.
     
    It was now that Orion saw his chance. He took the blue crystal in his hand, and
    Threw it at the shadowy form of the Man Who Was Not A Man. The little chunk of stone shed its light
    Brighter and brighter as it came closer to the Wraithra, and beaming a finalistic halo of azure
    When it collided with the shadow-formed and cloaked figure.
     
    A sound that could by no reasoning could ever be defined as earthly
    Left the Wraithra as the crystal hit and stuck onto its body. Desperately,
    The dark demon tried to claw and burn the stone off of its chest, but could not;
    For the magical little rock had begun to work its power. The previously
    Human-shaped body of solid shadow seemed to melt
    And liquefy, turning more vapory and insubstantial as the crystal sucked in its
    Dark material and green flame. There was soon but a small cloud of
    Wispy remnants, but they vanished quickly.
    Only the entity’s sinister helm, alien blade, and the stone which had consumed it remained,
    All three of which fell into the dust as one.
    The Man Who Was Not A Man was no more.
     
    …
     
    The benevolent sun sank below the horizon as twilight came,
    Its dying amber rays illuminating a canyon, with cliffs of
    Sharp crags to define its sides. Mighty mountains were these,
    Impossible to scale or pass, except by the road through the valley.
    This narrow breach was once blocked by an impregnable
    Fortress, a wall of stone harder than steel, with huge doors of oak and
    A wrought-iron portcullis to defend its single entryway.
     
    This castle blockade had been The Gauntlet, and it had only once
    Been taken since its creation. But that once was enough.
  15. Nuju Metru

    Passed Velox

    By Nuju Metru,

    ...In posts.
     
    At last.
     
    From a 400+ post disadvantage.
     
    Against all odds.
     
    Going for the gold.
     
    ...
     
    This posting race should've been a sports movie. XD
     
    -Nuju Metru
  20. Nuju Metru

    A Blog Contest

    By Nuju Metru,

    If I hosted a contest with both MOCing and Art categories, would anyone enter?
     
    -Nuju Metru
     
    EDIT: More specifically, creating a robot soldier, not necessarily humanoid, that can transform into a sphere. That leaves you lots of room for creativity, no?
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