Okay, this is the last one I'll post Just want to give people something to do besides debate and chit-chat. This one will be really simple. Write a dialogue between a hero and a villain before they're final showdown. Make it intense, make it revealing, make it fun. Avoid cliche/cheesy lines. Pretend we have read everything that has led up to this moment, and if something that "happened" in that time matters now, include it. The goal is to create the best, most engaging dialogue between a hero and villain that you can, leading into their final battle. -or- Following the guidelines above, create a dialogue between two villains or two heroes who are preferably at odds. As always, good luck and have fun! I will be working on mine soon!
"They'll love me more," said she, pouting cheekily. "Will not," said the boy. "You're greedy; you take everything for yourself." "But one of us has to be stronger than the other. Being equally weak is stupid." "I'm the boy. I should be the one with the muscle." "You can have the brains." "That'll take years to develop." "Tough," she said, turning away. "What's my name again?" he said after a time, hoping the argument would calm a little. "I've forgotten." "You haven't got one yet. I'll call you Bertie." "My name is not Bertie!" "Could be." His turn to pout, but this one was full of wrath and malice. He folded his arms, but being in such a restricted room, it was a difficult action. "Well then you can be Mr Macho, or Muscles." "Mrs Macho is nice." "Mr Macho." She rolled her eyes. "Whatever." "And where's all the water beneath our feet gone? I liked that stuff." "Gone out the tunnel," she explained. "We'll have to crawl through as well soon." As she said this, the room lurched - even the near complete darkness seemed to quake and tremble. "I think we have to go now." "Now? But we've been here for so long." She put a hand on his shoulder. "Listen. I'm your sister, and I'll protect you. I'll give you a little bit more food once we're out the other side, I promise." "Pinkie promise?" "That's a girlie thing," she said, extending her little finger, "but whatever." Another lurch. The boy's chest heaved. "Calm down." "Okay." "We're going to go through the tunnel. I'll be with you the whole time, okay?" she said. "Okay." And they crawled through, grimacing at the slime above them and the dripping sounds in the near distance. Suddenly, a crack of light broke out in front of them. "There's the exit, at last," she cried, almost proudly. "Come along, Bertie." "Right behind you, Mr Macho." "Mrs," she corrected. "Mr," he corrected. "One, two, three, push!" came a faint voice, barely audible from the tunnel. "And again...push!" "Who's that?" he asked her. "The woman. Well, someone's speaking to her, at least. Shall we go and meet her?" "As long as you'll be there,'" he said quietly. She ruffled his thin, wispy hair. "No problem, little bro. We got this." And they crawled out the final bit of tunnel, the light becoming stronger. Then the voice spoke again, clearly this time. "Here comes the girl," it said. "Let's just get her wrapped up. You have one healthy, happy baby." Bertie was panicking now; his sister had gone. Still, within a full minute, he too was hauled from the tunnel by a powerful force. The voice spoke again. "And here's the boy...oh, quite a small one. Very thin, compared to the girl. Still, a couple of days here and he'll be as right as rain." Bertie creaked his head over to the left, then the right. He saw Mr Macho, wrapped up in a white towel, and she was winking at him. And just for a while, they were close enough to talk. "Thanks for helping me, sis," he said. "Still don't like being the thinner one, though." "No worries," she said. "And you have the brains, remember? You'll be able to help me one day." "Like how?" "I'm sure there'll be something. Homework, for example. I've heard that can be pretty difficult." "And brains can solve homework?" "Apparently," she answered. Then she looked at herself, and frowned. One, maybe two seconds. Then she turned back to him. "Hey, Bertie," she said. "Yeah?" "Tell me honestly: does this towel make me look fat?"
Not bad, @Thomas Kitchen , but I'm not quite sure of what's actually going on. Care to explain a little? ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ...and here is my short Create a Dialogue between Two Villains Ezra crouched on a tree branch and peered down at Arael’s camp. In the heart of the jungle, The Burrow was secure in a clearing hidden by dense vegetation. It was a large circular compound enclosed by a chain-link fence topped with a coil of barbed wire, and men wearing black army vests and red caps stood along it at fifteen-yard intervals, armed with automatic rifles. Men wearing red and black face paint marched between the rows of Quonset huts, armed with guns and blades. There were four entrances, each guarded by two of these men in face paint and two gunmen stationed in watchtowers on either side. Ezra had succeeded in avoiding the cameras and traps in the jungle; now she was waiting outside the north gate for her way in. She had seen munitions truck approaching from this direction that would provide the perfect cover for her to slip in unseen. When she heard the engine drawing near, Ezra jumped from her branch and waited in the shadows. The truck rumbled up the dirt path, and as it passed, she slid underneath it, clinging to the bottom and riding it inside. It carried her to the armory at the heart of the compound. Three soldiers stepped out and began unloading crates from the back. When they had gone inside with the first load, Ezra crawled to the front of the truck and scanned the area. Her path was clear and she could see her target: Arael’s barrack. She emerged from under the truck and made to run, but a voice above her made her stop. “What are you doing here, Ezra?” Arael asked. He was hovering above the armory. “You have no business in my Burrow.” “How’d you know I was here?” She asked. “I knew you’d come. Now that you have, you can leave.” “Oh please. You know you need my help.” “If I did, I would have asked. I’ll give you one chance to leave here with your life.” Soldiers in face paint began to surround them, guns drawn. “Don’t be stupid, Arael. I’m your sister. You know your men can’t kill me. Or did you mean you would kill me? If you want a fight, I’ll be happy to level this place for you.” “Last chance, Ezra. You and I have no business, so just stay out of my way.” “Look, I know we’ve had our differences, but I think we can help each other out. You have something I want, and my organization has the resources to help you in your mission.” Arael alighted on the ground in front of her, “I don’t need your help. And what I have is none of your business.” Ezra sighed. “Oh darn. See, that’s where you’re wrong. I’ve been looking for something for a long time now, and I have good reason to think it’s here. I think you know what I’m talking about.” “So what if I do? You aren’t taking anything from this island.” Thunder rolled in the distance as clouds began to cover the sky. “Don’t you flex your powers at me, Arael!” Ezra stomped her foot, causing a small tremor. The soldiers began to back away, never lowering their guns. “I’m not afraid of you.” Arael took long heavy breaths, but he didn’t say anything. “Look, I’m offering you a chance to work together. I don’t care about your vendetta against that hero kid. I just need that crystal, and if we work together I can use it for my projects and help you get what you want. Everybody wins.” “No.” Arael clinched his fist and the wind began to pick up. Again, thunder rolled through the darkening clouds. “You are so stubborn.” Ezra crossed her arms. “Don’t pretend you didn’t make me this way. I can’t trust anything you say. You’re a liar, a witch.” “You think you're some kind of god, looking down on the rest of us from your beloved clouds, but you’re just a little boy—a little boy scared that someone will find out you’re not so tough under all your bravado.” “Shut up! Shut up and get off my island.” His nostril’s flared and his chest heaved. “Awe, baby brother’s having another tantrum. I’m not leaving empty-handed.” “No more games, Ezra. Now you die.” Ezra saw the flash in Arael’s eyes and jumped backward. A bolt of lightning struck the ground between them. “Fine,” she said, “just remember, you brought this on yourself. ”
I think mine actually is cliche, but oh well On the very end of the circular hut, just behind the High Dealor, four pairs of hands held the length of his axe. Yenna examined each pair of eyes widely peering over the shaft. High Dealor Sarla seemed to ignore the visible anticipation on their faces as he donned his black gloves. "I don't even know your name," the tip of Salra's jagged helmet snagged the central lantern of the large hut as he turned to her, briefly unsettling shadows against the beige walls of the hut, "Do you not see the insignificance?" Yenna hadn't expected the High Dealor Sarla to speak so formally. She took another step forward, "The clouds you stole didn't know your name, nor did the hares you hung." "I didn't risk my life to take your clouds, or hang your hares," Sarla faced the four slaves once more, knelt, and grasped the axe. His black chain attire tinkled and crinkled with each turn and sway, "You have lost the lives of two more young men just so we can have this conversation, and you are likely to lose yours as well." The servants scattered past Yenna to the exit after the High Dealor raised his axe from their hold. "Not for the conversation, Dealor. I want my clouds back, so it may rain once more, as did my friends. They died for that, and as will I if needed," Yenna tightened the grip on her sickle, "From old to young, the clouds were named such: Jaynnerto, Andrias, Thomasisa--" "Your plan was set as boring me to death?" Sarla chuckled as he caressed the head of his gleaming axe. He took a step forward, tilting his head to dodge the lantern this time. She continued, resisting the urge to take a step back against the beast of a man whose breast was far higher than even her brow, "Hurla, Yoruan, and our youngest, Phisilis." "You miss the point, girlish. I care for their names not, and yours the least. You and your cohorts and your clouds and your hares are all miniscule to my efforts like flies; I forget their likeness with glee." Yenna's hands grew cold, she readied herself to dodge the High Dealor's first strike, which would likely be for her head, "My friends, cohorts you call them, they are: Stanial--" Sarla took another step forward, his axe would be able to reach Yenna at this distance, she knew. "--and Kent." He raised the axe before her, his voice sounded of raining boulders, "Meaningless names!" Yenna had seen the tyrant shout before the first strike other times, to paralyze his victim. She did not come this way to be another victim. "Lastly, I am Yenna. I am here to make sure these names are the last you hear, boar man," she ducked, watching the ground to see the shadow of the High Dealor's axe pass over her head.
Not bad @Okon If this is, will be, or is from a serious work, I might suggest trying to differentiate the character voices a bit more. When I read it they sounded very similar. We all go through it though so no worries. And it read pretty smoothly. I didn't feel like anything was too contrived or forced. BTW @Thomas Kitchen You did a nice job of characterizing your characters as pretty young and pretty distinct from each other.
Point taken about the voices. Not from or for any actual works, though; made it up just for this thread.
@Andrae Smith - It's a story about twins in the womb, and "crawling through the tunnel" is, well, you know... Is there anything in particular you didn't grasp completely?
oooooh! Now that is creative. I like that. I just want to know where they learned their vocabulary ha ha. Pinky promises? Homework? strange concept for babies lol.
I decided to go with two villians at odds during a 'final showdown'. Here goes: I heard my captors shuffling about in the other room. My ears perked up at the sound, and I realized there was something different about the atmosphere of the place. The pace of their voices seemed quicker, as if they were rushed or in a hurry, and I kept hearing the shuffling of fabric. I considered creeping closer, but the sound of their approaching footsteps alerted me. I ran, hiding under the first thing I found just as the door opened and my wardens walked into the room. I could see their feet as the walked about the room, and I prayed they wouldn't find me. "Okay, I think we have everything." The woman said. "Do you have our passports?" The man answered. "Yup, I tossed them in my purse earlier." The woman stepped close to the entrance to my hiding place, and I felt my heart beat out of my chest. "Did you put the cat in his cage like I asked?" "No, you said you were going to do that once everything was packed up." "Ryan! I told you!" The venom in her voice chilled me to the bone, and I shrank back even farther into the shadows. "I swear this happens every time!" Suddenly her face appeared, blocking the only source of light to the cavernous underbelly of the bed. "And of course he's way back there." The man got down on his hands and knees and his head appeared. "Damn it!" The giant pushed aside some boxes with ogre-like strength and reached for me with his grotesque hairless arms. I shrank back against the piles of debris and hissed at him - a clear warning to any intelligent creature. "Why do you keep so much shit under here?" "This is not shit!" The woman protested angrily. "I have a lot of important things down there!" "If they're so important than why haven't we pulled any of them out in the last two years?" He pulled out another box and dust drifted down to the floor. "Like all these plates?" "Those are for company." "But we hardly ever have company." He took a moment to wipe the dust off the surface and inspect the contents. "Why don't we ever use these?" "They'll get dirty! They're just for company." She said, exasperated, as if it were the most obvious thing ever. "I wish you'd just listen to me for once, then we wouldn't be in this mess again." She bent down on her hands and knees and started pulling out boxes too. "Oh, I listen to you all the time. You never told me to grab the cat earlier." "I did so." "Well let's just agree to disagree." Another obstacle was removed. I looked around desperately, looking for a new escape route. They were getting closer. "I hate it when you do that." The woman said. "Oh, hang on. It looks like he's about to bolt." She laid herself down flat and began wriggling towards me. I hissed at her, batting at her outreached hand. "Close the door, make sure he doesn't get to the couch." The man rose, and closed the door before I could react. I was trapped. "I'm almost there Boo. Don't worry, we're just going on a trip!" She said, in a cooing voice. Lies! All lies! She lunged for me, but I slipped from her grasp and escaped out the side of the bed. I thought I was free when the man's hands wrapped around my belly, lifting me off the ground effortlessly. I squirmed against his powerful grip, but he was too strong for me. "Got him!" He called out triumphantly. They held me down in a small fabric bag and zipped me up. I batted at the sides, but there was no escape to be had. "Mew."
I woke in the hospital building. I pulled myself up and met my brother's eyes. "Hi Alistair" "That was stupid." He stated. I sighed. "What was I supposed to do? He was treating me like a piece of meat." "Dice, it was supposed to be a simple infiltration." "Shit happens." "This is serious." Allistair chastised me. I sighed. "How bad is it?" I asked. "You'll walk again. You should be back to full duty in a year." I glanced at his head. "They couldn't save your ear?" "No. The cells died." "I'm sorry." Allistair sighed. "That's the only thing I'm not angry about." "I had every right to do what I did." "No you didn't!" Allistair paced. "As a woman in this profession, you should know that evil bastards will objectify you." "So I can't defend myself? That's extremely misogynistic." I folded my arms. "When the guy has a knife to your back, you shouldn't kick him. Barry had him in his sights. He could have taken the bastard out without any injury on your part." "So I always have to depend on my brothers? I can't be trusted to take care of myself?" "You know that's not what this is about. This is about not taking unnecessary risks." "He was practically raping me. I won't stand for that." Alistair sighed. "Just be more careful next time." "This isn't over, is it?" "For now it is." He sighed. "Just get better." I nodded as Alistair left the room.
His heart pounded in his chest as she advanced. He scanned the field, seeing no hiding places, no escape. “Bennett.” The aeonian spat the word, as if he were some roach that had gotten into her dinner. Small globs of fire danced menacingly across her fingers. “Avalon.” He spoke flatly, trying to conceal his mounting dread. He knew the demigod could swat him like a fly. In spite of their mutual antagonism, he found himself drawn to her. His eyes ran along her smooth skin and red hair, imagining the toned flesh that lay beneath her armor vest. “None can fail to see the beauty of Ardor’s creations. Not even you, Bennett.” “Not even a homosexual.” Whatever his preferences, Bennett was still capable of recognizing female beauty. That was enough. The Firelord’s magic would do the rest. “Your goddess tolerates your kind,” she said. “Ardor will not stand for such filth.” “His soldiers seem to be fairly enthusiastic about it,” Bennett countered. “They use it to punish the inferior races,” she said. “Orcs, cavemen, humans, and traitors from their own people. It is not permitted in any other capacity.” “A weapon.” “Yes.” “And you call me a pervert. You call us savages.” Bennett clenched his fists through his gauntlets. “You descend on our land like a pack of wild animals, slaughtering and raping everything in your path. You throw yourselves at our people like rabid dogs. And you call us savages.” “Insolent ape,” Avalon said, an orb of fire forming in her hand. “You will die with the rest of your impure race.” He phased away just as his former spot was consumed by a wall of flame.
Samula wanted to die. All the fighting had been sapped from him; every fiber of his being screamed against the beating the General had given him. He laid flat on his back on the cobblestone road, his head against a stack of crates. He felt he was being cooked alive by the hot summer day. That or it was the fire spell that had grazed him, leaving burns on his arms and neck. "Sad," the General said in his raspy drawl. "Here is a boy from one of the human lands, a race that I've come to respect. A culture I would like for the lizardkin to mimic, and I'm decimating him to nothing." Samula's chest heaved, the emotions within threatening to explode in any moment. Guilt, regret. Shame. I'm sorry, he begged internally, I'm so sorry. He thought of his long-dead girlfriend, the lady he would never marry. He thought of the poeple he traveled with who now laid in the bottom of an ocean. He lived because he ran. If only I had stayed, if only... he muttered. He did not come here to be a hero. He came here to hide, to wait the war out. When he found himself in another war, he tried to run. But no one, not even Samula, could run from the General. General Ra'toik of the Murslau army. Who was he, a mere tavern boy, a bastard child and a coward, to think he could save anyone? Even when he was forced to join the Empress's army, he still fled. Still ran. The General's footsteps stopped inches next to Samula's head. This was it. This was his fate. Father was right, Samula thought. I should never have even tried... "Leave him alone!" Samula opened his eyes to see Yutha make a desperate charge from behind. Before he could open his mouth to warn the young lizardkin, the General turned around and sent an arc of eletricity that struck Yutha, causing his tiny body to spasm and collapse on the ground. "No one dares to attack me from behind," the General snarled. "I will deal with you accordingly." You still have a chance. The voice came from within, and it was not Samula's voice. Save Yutha. Stop that madman. Yutha was motionless. If he weren't dead, he was about to be dead. The General would not stop his hand just because Yutha wasn't a soldier. Neither was Samula. A new resolve began to take over, the pain fading away. He was done running, done hiding. He had nothing to his name, nothing. He was just the cowardly tavern boy who ran. Not this time. He was going to make up for his failings. One way or another, that monster would end. Samula began to rise to his feet just as the General wrapped his hand around Yutha's throat. Samula's hands were soon enveloped in soft blue auras. "General!" Samula called out, his voice stronger than before. The General turned, shocked to see him back on his feet. "You want to fight like a human? You will fight me." "So be it, Samula. You may go first." Samula lunged at the General, his hands now ablazed with icy fire.
Really fun idea! I tried to have fun and make a dumb scene, playing with cliches. Didn't put much time into it, I hope that's okay _________________ "I swear to the god above, you always show up at just the right time don't ya'?" Thomas said, and pulled his hand out of his coat. Dan had assumed it was to slowly clap, but it was to light a cigarette instead. A predator drone flew over him, knocking his clothes all around. "You know what I love the most about you? The steely determination, you're like a coin-operated robot, out to do your job." Dan sighed. "Look, if you really wanted to do the damage, you'd have done it already. You can still give up alright?" He spoke with open arms. Thomas spat at the side of the ground that Dan stood on, "Give up? Jesus, this isn't a fucking children's story. One of us is gonna be dead in about five minutes." "Dan?! What are you talking to him for?! SHOOT HIM!" Control shouted through his earpiece, the last sentence was loud enough for Dan to hold his ear in pain. Dan drew his prized pistol out, and centered it on his chest. "So you think that'll work? Let me tell you, you're pretty funny sometimes! Louis C.K. has nothing on you!" Thomas laughed, and slapped his knee. An explosion erupted behind Thomas, who snapped his fingers. A field of electricity surrounded Dan's gun, the magazine fell out all on its own. Dan looked at it in disbelief. "Yeah, you can try and do your job. But you'll have to do it fair and square my man." Thomas said, cupping his mechanical fist with his other hand. "Control? Looks like we got ourselves a show, gonna need some support. Tell them to wait a bit though, wanna kick this guy's ass for a minute first." Dan spoke into his headset before taking it off and dropping it onto the ground. He didn't need their advice. He shook his head and got himself into the game, even making a little war-cry and everything. "Hey, before we do the big fight and all that, can I tell you something? I just feel really chatty today." "Yeah?" Dan stopped in his tracks, unsure of what was going on, a trick no doubt. "You're the best hero I've ever had!" Thomas chirped and jumped up in the sky, landing behind Dan...
@Link the Writer Wow, great stuff man! For a minute I was like, "Oh, the guy comes from behind and happy times!" glad you avoided that! You're a pretty good writer it seems, since you were able to evoke so much with so little time. Props!
@Eedjii - Thanks. I was sort of afraid I was getting into the cliché of 'injured hero finds last resolve to stand up and fight again', so I had Samula make the General turn around. The voices came out of nowhere, I know. I'm more inclined to just let them be voices Samula has in his head, not spirits of long-dead friends encouraging him like I had originally planned. Yours is pretty cool, too. I half expected a gunfight to break out until Thomas revealed his mechanical fist. Now I'm intrigued and have so many questions about Thomas. Awesome stuff!
The Cloaked lurched his way up the brick sidewalk, unforgivingness in his black eyes and evil in his maniacal laugh. "You thought," he sneers, "that you could begin the Downfall of Nighte? You, no more than a child? Ha!" I squirm in my shackles as he begins treading into the puddle of my own blood. "Guardes," The Cloaked calls hoarsely, "bring our little rebel to the dungeon; perhaps there she shall learn to respect everyone above her." "No!" I manage a strangled yell. "No, I--I will never respect ye!" Though his glinting eyes are the only things you can see through the deep shadows his hood casts over his face, I can tell he's smiling evilly, ready to savor the moment his torture machines bring to me the most painful death ever imagined. "Take her to the dungeon, now, I have elsewhere to be!" And with a swoosh of his cloak, he takes off into the dark night with nothing remaining of his presence except a tiny black pinprick in the sky, occasionally soaring in the moonlight's path. The Guardes advance on me slowly, and hesitantly insert a brass key into my shackles. A large Guarde holds both hands tight once the manacles are off, cutting-off-my-circulation tight, and I search each and every recent thought for something, anything, that could keep me from going to The Cloaked's dungeon. That's when I remember the pepper essence tucked away inside my boot. After a moment of thinking my plot through, I take a step backwards, falsely stumble and trip, and swing my boot up, dumping the spray bottle into my hand as the larger Guarde lets my wrists go, eager to let me suffer the mild pain of tripping over my own feet. I reveal the pepper essence to all the men, whom are each equally enchanted and stare at it with wide eyes and open mouths. Perfect. I hit the nozzle, and a stream of pepper vapor rolls out, attacking every eye, every sinus, every mouth, until all twenty-something men are yelling in pain and trying to wipe the pain from their eyes. I slip past them and duck into the Forest, which I know will offer some amount of protection. The Cloaked wants me to die in his dungeon? Sorry, friend. My life is not a balloon, and you can't pop it with one painful needle. Is this realistic enough????
Gaaaaah! You guys are terrible writers! I was so bored through all of these. They were totally unbelievable. Nah, not really. I am only joking. These aren't without their flaws, but I like the diversity in the scenes. As long as you're having fun, I'm cool with it. As for realism, they (mine included) could probably be tightened up to avoid little language things and certain cliches. All the same, thanks for posting guys. I lke getting the traffic. It's good practice anyway.
*Samula fires up a few spells and glares at you* You are forgiven. To be honest, I did think the whole 'hero gets last wind after watching someone he cares about getting hurt' thing was a bit clichéd. I could work on it some more.
Coming in for a double dip The premise may be a bit too abstract to be considered a final battle, but y'all can be the judge of that. ___________________ The sun shined throughout his room as he sat at his desk, marveling his work. 'I finally did it!' He thought as the pride overcame him, he created something! And sure enough, he called Terrance, they lived on opposite sides of the country, but always found time to check-in once in a while. "Hey! You'll never believe what I did! I finished it. I fucking finished it!" He yelled, the excitement was something he never expected to feel. "Ha, I finished mine too, was just 'bout to call you and everything," Terrance replied, Donny's smile became wider. "I'd tell you what it's about, but you know how it goes," He continued, that he didn't want to share hurt Donny a little. But nothing could've taken him down at that moment, besides his work setting ablaze. "Wow, I never believed it would be like this, getting ready to take the next step at the same time and all," Donny said with a warm sigh. "Hey, you think yours is better right? You deserve it more than me don't you? Don't worry if you do, it's just human nature." "Well... yeah, but that's only because mine is from the heart." "Oh, and mine isn't? It's some sort of yarn, produced for the masses? Fuck you." The venom in Terrance's voice was astounding, the dial tone jarring, Donny put his phone back on the receiver. And with that, They both got ready to send in their query letters... EDIT: Just realized I may have written a cliche or two. Cliche's are so hard to get away from :/
