The Instigator
Muted
Pro (for)
Winning
12 Points
The Contender
Zaradi
Con (against)
Losing
2 Points

Famer's Story-writing debate tournament Round#1 Muted VS Zaradi

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Post Voting Period
The voting period for this debate has ended.
after 3 votes the winner is...
Muted
Voting Style: Open Point System: 7 Point
Started: 1/20/2013 Category: Miscellaneous
Updated: 4 years ago Status: Post Voting Period
Viewed: 1,656 times Debate No: 29375
Debate Rounds (5)
Comments (13)
Votes (3)

 

Muted

Pro

Welcome to the second story-writing debate tournament.

The rules and voting guidelines will be provided here:

S&G will be awarded as usual

Conduct will only be awarded to the side that forfeits least (cursing within the story is allowed as this is a story)

Arguments will be awarded for the side providing the more interesting continuation of the story.

Sources will be awarded to the side with better writing techniques and displays a better ability with writing a story.

Both sides will produce a story starting with the Instigator. One story will be created, and must be continued on from both parties within the debate. (recommended that the Instigator gives a title for their story before starting)

For more information both about the tournament and the member's involved, please visit: http://debate.org...


The first round is for acceptance.

The Title of the story would be: "Omega"


Leaves float gently towards the ground. Soft whispers of the wind echoes through the treetops. Silver streaks of moonlight filtered through the leaves, hallowing rows upon uneven rows of the majestic woods, darkened by the night. The cackling sound of prey as they are surprised by the howls of the predators that ran through the forest resounded eerily. Occasional twitches as night animals stalked their way across the leaf covered floor. A faint smell of burnt cigars wafted through the trees.


Curled up in the shadows of a base of an oak, an unmoving figure made rest. Head tucked in between the knees, with the arms wrapped protectively around the neck, the silhouette went unnoticed to the ferocious predators swarming all around. Shrill whistles surrounded this being, but it remained quiet.


A swishing sound, like that of a shaking wash basin filled to the brim, came faintly to the ears of this sleeping contour. The right ears twitched in the direction of the sound. Waving slowly, the pointed ear was followed gracefully by the top appendage. The being’s eyes remained shut as it concentrated on the sound. It breathed in deeply and stood up, mind buzzing. That’s not possible! Its mind screamed for it to run. It squinted its eyes in sleepy irritation. A red glow emanated from its eyeballs and lit up the space in front of it. It saw shafts of light beaming down towards the trees.


It raised both hands and wiped them down its face, as though removing some veil, opening its eyes wide at the same moment. It stooped down and wrapped its fingers around a small pack which had laid unseen upon the ground before stumbling off in a halting run towards the east, wearily glancing backwards.



Several hours later...

The orange glow of a rising sun tickled through the trees in precisely the same manner as the moon before. It came with the rousing trumpets of thousands of insects announcing the dawn of a new day. Red-Eye had crossed two tributaries by the time it dawned. Cracks, like gunshots, rose from his every footstep. Omega! It screamed at itself, be more careful!


Omega snapped out of his drowsiness. It was going to be a long day, he reminded himself. For twenty two hours more, sunlight would shine on this wild wilderness. He drew his bottle from the pack. Two hours till I can get more. He was scared, scared of the things which pursued him. He unscrewed the lid of his bottle and gulped down the precious liquid before replacing it. He trudged on.


Besides the pack, Omega had on a pants made of thick cured lizard skin. For a top covering, he had a woollen shirt that was fraying at the seams. He’d heard that it was made of an extinct animal. A sheep. His boots were metal capped military issue boots. For ten years, he had served in the conniving human military. He served with much distinction as an intelligence gatherer. He was a spy. No more. Betrayed by the High Command, he was declared a traitor to the human empire for a supposed crime and a death-mark was placed on his head. That was three weeks ago, and now, he was being hunted like a wild animal, on this wild planet.


Omega had crash-landed on this strange world, his pointy ears yelling at him to run from the sound of the crafts above the burning wreck. His glowing eyes had enabled him to survive in the dark and light alike for so long, but now they were closer than ever before. The night previous they had almost caught him asleep. His senses, naturally sharp, and heightened by the training he had received, served him poorly that night.


He reached the tributary just before he ran out of water. Kneeling on the sandy bank, he took in the water in large ragged gulps. He filled both himself and the bottle before clambering to some large boulders besides the water. Stacked like a shelter, they hid him from the clear sky above. He slumped his pack on the sand, his senses alerting him to danger at the same instant. He sprung backwards from his pack just as a serpent snapped out at him.


He fumbled for the small knife in his back-pocket. Unsheathing it, he swung at the reptile with seemingly jerky moves. His trained hand soon found the serpent’s neck, and its head thumped on the sand. Wiping the bloodied blade on his pants, he cleanly removed the blood and proceeded to re-sheath the knife. He wearily clumped to the floor and drew the carcass closer to him.


Dipping his gnarled hands into the pack, he withdrew a hooked blade, with which he began to strip off the flesh from the animal. This task took him less than a quarter of an hour, at which point he placed the strips on the uppermost boulder to dry in the sun. His stomach growling, Omega drew out a small brownish cube on which he began to gnaw.


Overcome by exhaustion, the spy soon slumped off into the land of dreams. Little did he realize that his predators had intentionally herded him towards these boulders like cornered prey. Several miles away, the churn of craft motors could be heard distinctly as they approached the doomed being.


Six of them soon showed themselves, radially spaced over the sky surrounding Omega. He woke to the screech of the predator he had designated “Killers.” Ferocious hunters, they had long fangs, and even longer tails. Their whole body was covered in alternating bony spikes and leathery hide. He had only caught sight of them a few times, but now he saw the crafts above raining fire on the forest below, following the path made by these fearsome beasts. He could smell the terror flowing from these creatures.


Anger knotted his guts, and he grabbed his pack, only to notice the other crafts coming in from the other directions. Stopping in his tracks, the spy swivelled his head around, memorizing every little detail as his eyes took them in. He was going to need to know his ground. He harshly ripped open the pack and began to ready himself for battle.


Pistol in holster, loaded and ready, strap to the left thigh.Throwing disks, small of the back. Hooked knives, ankles. Stun grenades, hips. Hunting knife, right thigh. Non-slip gloves, hands. Flex fingers. His body mechanically followed as he thought out his preparations. He drew a long drought of water, and steadied himself as he observed the craft speed towards his position.


They surrounded the sky over him, and hovered there. Omega had nowhere to run. Come at me! He snarled at the crafts, watching them as well as the Killers who now circled his position. Metallic ladders unfurled themselves from the underbelly of the crafts, and the screech of the Killers grew ever louder.






Continued by Zaradi
Zaradi

Con

As the Killers piled out of their ships and began advancing towards him, he realized immediately that he was in a losing proposition. The six killers held long, leaf-shaped blades and held meter-high shields that, as he unfortunately found out earlier, were impervious to bullet penetration. The pistol at his hip wasn't going to do him any sort of good. His knife would be massively outranged by their blades. His throwing disks would do even less than the gun would, and his grenades were, sadly, of the non-lethal variety. If he stayed and tried to fight them, he probably wouldn't even be able to kill one of them. He had to go somewhere else to get the battle to be a bit more even, maybe even tilted in his favor.

Unfortunately, the Killers had planned their approach well. They had pinned the poor human into a rocky alcove of boulders that had a single opening: the opening currently occupied by the beasts hunting Omega. If he wanted to escape, it would have to be through them. Which brought him back to his "How the f*ck do I kill them" dilemna.

An idea sprang into his head, bat-sh*t crazy, but that was the only probable variety of plan to work anyway. He dropped his hands to his hips and left them there, feeling at the four stun grenades resting there. As the Killers approached closer and closer, he began trying to visually measure the distance between them, and estimated his throwing arm. Once the Killers were within a certain range, they let out a blood-curdling scream and charged, swords held high and shields in front. That's when Omega kicked his plan into action.

He grabbed two stun grenades and fingered the firing switches on each. Once that was done, he had about five second to chunk the things as far away from him as possible before electromagnetic pulses erupted from the canisters and massively disoriented anything within it's range of around fifty feet. Unfortunately for him, his throwing arm was around the thirty foot range, and he waited for them to get to fourty before hurling them, crouching into a ball, closing his eyes, covering his ears, and waiting for the blast.

Even with everything he did to protect himself from the blasts, the stun grenades still did a number to him. He was knocked off-balance by the shockwave and fell onto his rear. A blaring ring eminated throughout his subconsious, drowning out any thoughts he could possibly be making. His vision, although still see-able, was wavery and unclear. But compared to the Killers, he was well off. Each of the six vicious monsters, before lethal and cunning, lay writhing on the ground, clutching their heads with their paws and screeching in misery. This was his moment. Omega got up, unsteadily, and began sprinting past them. Every ten or so feet he stumbled due to the disorientation, but he picked himself up again and pushed himself forward. He had to keep moving. He couldn't stay there. It was run or die, and Omega certainly didn't want to die.

Of course, Murphy's Law wouldn't let him make a clean escape, and behind him he could faintly hear through the ringing the enraged cries of the beasts as they picked themselves up and charged after him. Apparently they had a better resistence to it than he did. He spurred his legs to pump faster, and began sprinting further and further ahead to his ultimate goal: the transport ships.

A free hand reached down to his pumping thigh and drew his sidearm, firing blindly behind him in the general direction of his pursuers. He didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of hitting them, much less severely wounding them or killing them outright, but it was enough of a distraction to force them to raise their shields up, causing their speed to decrease, and giving Omega the distance advantage he needed to escape to the ladders.

He began scaling the nearest one as quickly as possible, hand over hand and foot over foot as he moved up and up. By the time he was pulling himself into the hull of the ship, the others were approaching the ladder themselves. He pulled a third stun grenade out of it's pouch, thumbed the switch and dropped it down before closing the hatch. More pained cries emerged. He bought the time he needed.

He quickly made his way to the cockpit and sat down in the pilot's seat. It only took him a few moments to identify everything he needed to fly the bird: stick, clutch, throttle control, elevation control, as well as other various readings and measurements. He began reversing the ship in a jerkish manner -- it was touchier than any other ship he was used to flying -- and shot away.

Of course, that would be too easy of an escape, as the radar indicated that five other ships were in hot pursuit, obviously the same party that was hunting him in the first place. projectile lasers whizzed past him as the hunting craft opened fire. The left wing was the first thing to get hit, tearing a chunk out of it. The bottom-center engine was the next to go, bursting into flames and causing two surrounding engines to fail. After that his craft just began to plummet, as the other craft swarmed overhead like vultures over a kill.

One lone killer disembarked into the crash site of Omega's ship. It didn't take the Killer long to track him down, as Omega had a chunk of debris stuck through his abdomen, pinning him to the pilot's seat. He was toast. The sword rose. The sword fell --

Alex Omega awoke from his nightmare with a scream, in a cold sweat and his wits lost. The spy scrambled for his sidearm under his pillow instinctually, but soon relaxed enough to realize it was just a bad dream. After a few deep breaths, he finally became aware of a faint buzzing noise coming from his left, his bedside table. He grabbed his communication device and tabbed the screen to show the incoming call. It was from Eamon Trent, a friend of his. He tabbed the "accept" button and held it to his ear.

"Eamon, it's too damm early for this. What do you nee--" Alex began, but was quickly cut off.

"Alex, you gotta get the f*ck out of there. Up top just sent down a memo saying you're in the cold, and any associates of yours are to be detained, which includes me. I'm high-tailing it out of here. But you gotta move brotha'!" Eamon yelled, and the thrum of an engine could be heard over the device.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down. What are you saying?" Alex asked, trying to wrap his mind around what his friend just told him.

"I'll try to explain later! Last I heard they were sending an EX-Team to each of our last known coordinates. You gotta get out of there!"

Alex cursed and began throwing on clothes and packing what little he had and could carry. EX-Teams were the elite of the elite, only sent to mop up internal disputes and to keep everyone in line. He must have somehow gotten himself into really deep sh*t if he was getting one of those sent after him.

"And Alex, you gotta listen to me. I'm pretty sure the people up top have been compromised. Remember those things I was having you help me with? I was compiling data on internal corruption, and I had enough to really put the fork in almost everyone at the top of the chain. I'm pretty sure they flipped on us because of it!"

Alex just sighed. Just like Eamon to get himself and anyone around him into a deep pile of sh*t.

"Listen, let's reandevous at Post-Plan Sierra and figure out our next move. I'll try to contact you in another hou--" Eamon started to say, but was cut off by the whizz of something, then a scream, then an explosion. Then the line cut off.

"Eamon!? Eamon!?" Alex screamed uselessly into the com, but he knew what had happened: the EX-Teams caught up with him, and shot him out of the sky. He was toast. As was he if he didn't get moving.

Alex slung his bag over his shoulder, strapped his sidearm to his thigh, and started running out the door away from his hideout, just as a guided missile slammed into it, blowing the house into pieces.

He was blown by the very people who employed him. They betrayed him. And now they had to die.

Continued by Muted
Debate Round No. 1
Muted

Pro


The burst of energy expanding from the house threw Omega forwards as he ran and he fell. His head slammed into the soft snow carpeting the ground. Splotchy patches appeared on his vision and he shook his head dizzily. He gasped for breath and flattened himself against the dirt. The whizzing of another missile could be distinctly heard as his assassins widened their target field in an ever growing circle.

Stealthily crawling towards the flaming pile of rubble, he slowly picked his way to the center of the crumbled building. As he sat up on his haunches, he observed the explosions all around him and smiled. Standard extermination pattern. The Ex-Teams would never think that he’d gone back to the very place that had once been of such danger.

He peered down to the touch screen device strapped onto his wrist. One by one, the signals of his teammates went silent. He slid a finger over his screen, and deactivated his own signal. The bombardment continued. He leaned back against a hot pile of concrete, and yawned as he watched the world he had been assigned to burn. He had no sympathy for the people dying in the hundreds.

After an hour, and three hundred square miles of utter desolation, the fires training down on the planet stopped. He watched as the crafts above him sped star-wards, and began sliding his palm over his touch screen. With a few touches, the large concrete slab on which he was sitting rose with shrill creaking noises. The mechanism had been slightly damaged by the attack. He clambered off the slab and slid down into the hollow below.

The rush of the ground as it sped up towards him vanished, and he rolled forwards, with his head tucked between his knees, as he hit the hard surface. The air whooshed out of his lungs, and he flattened out on the floor. He gingerly picked himself up, swiped the screen again to replace the slab, and vanished into the dark caverns leading away.

After three miles of running at full speed in the watery underground tunnel he swung his pack to his chest and withdrew a high-powered flashlight. It was as small as his little finger, and he pointed it towards the ground searchingly. The blue tinged light shone down upon the water like moonlight on a still lake. The shimmer of the water as Omega stepped from puddle to puddle gave rise to echoes which resounded through the cave.

Omega too a deep ragged breath as he stepped into a deep pool. The floor of the puddle immediately sank beneath his weight, and he was dunked into a stinking pool of water. He clutched at his nostrils and waited for the shaft to cease receding. About four meters down, and with the weight of the water throbbing down on his ears, a plate slid into place above him, and began to rise upwards. The water surrounding him began seeping away towards the sides.

A slow drumming rhythm began playing in his head as he threaded out of the capsule and into his very own spacecraft. Enough to fit two crew plus a pilot, it had been hidden away in this remote place for over two weeks. He plonked his pack onto the navigator’s chair and began running a system’s check.

He sat in the pilot’s chair and began planning out his course of action. He would humble his enemies before disposing of them. To do so, he required the documents that Eamon had compiled. That would need some patience. He wiped the grime off his countenance and began plotting a course for Post-Plan Sierra.

Dark memories of this world haunted his every move. His jaws tightened as he recalled. He was born on the world. Recruited on it. Trained on it. Surgically altered on it. The list continued to muzzle his intelligence. He shook away his memories, refusing to let them surface any further. The drumming in the back of his head grew a little more persistent.

The cavern above him began to peel away as he started up the main drives. Automated system, he chuckled to himself. Drips of water splashed down on the viewscreen as the water lost their support. His grin widened, and he began tapping out the beat in his head. One...two...three...four... He sunk down into the rhythm as he began ascending into the stars.





Five hundred light years away and ten hours later...
“Imminent warp reversal. Imminent warp reversal. Imminen...” The clang of the warning bell and the monotonous voice of the ship’s computer woke Omega from his sleep. He sleepily fumbled for the controls. Just as he grabbed the control stick, space warp reversed, and he found himself staring out into a world shining with a dark brilliance. He paged the intercom.

“Atavius One to Control. Do you have me on your scanners?” He paused and waited a second before repeating his query.

“Control to Atavius One. We have you. State the purpose of your visit.”

He smiled wryly. “Just passing through. Picking up supplies.”

“Copy that, Atavius One. Proceed to Platform thirteen. Pad Five-Dee-Gee.”

“Thanks, Atavius One out.” He cut the connection before Control could ask any more questions.

He veered his craft towards the platform and set the controls to auto-pilot the ship to the landing pad. Once it entered the atmosphere, he opened the hatch under the cockpit and suited up for a jump. The craft descended quickly towards the landing pad. He snatched his pack from the Nav. seat and jumped through the hatch.

The whooshing sound of air as he sped through the atmosphere slammed against his helmet. His wrist device monitored the distance to ground level. The blood rushed to his face, and he pulled on the parachute trigger. It bubbled out like smoke from a fire, and Omega felt himself being pulled upright.

Within a few moments, he could see the ground rushing up towards him, and he yanked on the brakes. The speed at which he had been falling slowed almost imperceptibly, and his feet touched the ground. He began running. In front of him, as if on cue, a pipe burst, spewing forth sewage and gases, which soon ignited. The flames crept towards him, and he frantically tried to remove the parachute from himself. The parachute floated gently onto the flames, and the rigging caught fire.

As the flames crawled over the ropes, he untangled himself from the burning mess and sprang as far as possible from the blaze. Removing his helmet, he breathed a huge sigh of relief and stared at the charred parachute. Snapping his pistol to shoulder level, he eyed the deserted surrounding. Treading carefully past the exploded pipe, he swivelled his weapon at every imaginable corner of the complex.

He was in the very center of the refuse processing plant. He holstered the pistol and withdrew his binoculars from the pack. Taking stealthy steps, he navigated his way through the plant towards the perimeter. Distally, he could hear the sirens of fire-crafts as they raced towards the scene of his landing. This is going to be difficult. He reached the fence just as shouts of “intruder” rang through the complex.

The loud wail of an alarm siren slammed into his ears. He covered them with his palms to no avail. It was as though someone had placed the ringing inside his head. The drumming was drowned out. He could see armed men dashing towards him, speaking into their helmets. He gritted his teeth in agony. Rage filled his stomach. He tried to shut out the wailing.

Behind his head, a figure sprang from the pipes. “Don’t move! Red-Eye.” Omega started reaching for his pistol. “I said. Don’t move. Hands up!” Slowly, Omega raised his hands above his head and waited for the inevitable cuffs to place themselves firmly on his wrists. The armed men surrounded him.

The device on his wrist began beeping.


Continued by Zaradi...
Zaradi

Con

Zaradi forfeited this round.
Debate Round No. 2
Muted

Pro

The crunch of boots rumbled into the cell holding Omega as the guard without paced away his boring duty. Stripped of all his equipment, Omega was thrown into this dank, and lightless place. He could hear the grating of scales as a serpent shuffled its way into a hiding hole. The squeaking of pestilent rodents kept him awake. Every so often, one of these squeaks would turn into loud shrill cries, followed by dead silence. The crunch of bones as they broke in the jaws of the snake resounded through the cell.

Omega"s glowing red eyes enabled him to see in the dark, to some extent. He hunkered down onto the rotting straw mattress that he found near the far end of the cell. He ripped off his upper garment, and proceeded to mask his face with it. Gently, he lowered his head onto the straw. He could not sleep, but at least this was a more comfortable position than standing through the night. The crunch of boot halted, shouts were heard, and the sound of a retreating footstep came clearly through the steel plated gate. Omega guessed at a change in the guards. He smiled, and closed his eyes.

(Due to a very tight schedule, I will have to let Zaradi continue from here.)
Zaradi

Con

Zaradi forfeited this round.
Debate Round No. 3
Muted

Pro

Due to the consistent forfeiture of Zaradi and my own tight schedule, I urge a vote Pro.
Zaradi

Con

Zaradi forfeited this round.
Debate Round No. 4
Zaradi

Con

Zaradi forfeited this round.
Debate Round No. 5
13 comments have been posted on this debate. Showing 1 through 10 records.
Posted by TUF 4 years ago
TUF
Look like zaradi closed his account down. Hopefully he comes back and finishes this, I am getting pretty intrigued.
Posted by Muted 4 years ago
Muted
Oi, not me. A dream was good, but I'm typing out the rest, and not exactly "explaining" the storyline, I'll just be continuing on. *Spoilers*
Posted by TUF 4 years ago
TUF
Hmm... the beginning scene was a dream huh? I kind of liked the idea of the protagonist not being human, but I guess I can roll with this too.

So the actions there. Time to explain the story line in the next round?
Posted by Muted 4 years ago
Muted
Zaradi, the killers were running from the crafts. You ruined the story. LOL...
Posted by Zaradi 4 years ago
Zaradi
I'll just pick them up then :P
Posted by Muted 4 years ago
Muted
This isn't the first story I've written, and Zaradi, I'll be ending all my rounds on cliff-hangers. :D
Posted by Muted 4 years ago
Muted
Yup, there is. Terrified predators sounds cool.
Posted by TUF 4 years ago
TUF
So there is space crafts, and killers. (I am assuming the spacecrafts were spouting fire at the killers?)
Posted by Zaradi 4 years ago
Zaradi
Alright. Let's bang this one out.
Posted by Muted 4 years ago
Muted
I described the Killers as having fangs, and yes, Omega is not a human, hence his distaste for humanity.
3 votes have been placed for this debate. Showing 1 through 3 records.
Vote Placed by morgan2252 4 years ago
morgan2252
MutedZaradiTied
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Total points awarded:42 
Reasons for voting decision: This was pretty hard to vote on because both sides did a good job when they wrote. Con forfeited, so conduct goes to pro. Both sides had very good continuations of the story, however, con didn't really continue the story that much, so I give arguments to pro. S&G is even. I have to give sources to con because I like his technique a bit better, and he does a very good job of making the dialogue actually sound like people talking, which is very hard to do. Great story!
Vote Placed by lannan13 4 years ago
lannan13
MutedZaradiTied
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Total points awarded:40 
Reasons for voting decision: FF
Vote Placed by 1Devilsadvocate 4 years ago
1Devilsadvocate
MutedZaradiTied
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Total points awarded:40 
Reasons for voting decision: F.F.