Elf and Mage - Pt. 1

This was a random piece I started working on in June 2018, and of course promptly abandoned. But hey, it ain't half bad so putting this up too. Should be more proud of my stuff for sure. I wrote three "parts", two as intros for the main characters (the elf and the mage, a doi) and the third turned out to be the ending of the the first, I assume would have been, arc. Maybe I'll flesh this out someday. 

Drag Pt. 2

Raad's vision blurred, the neon traffic lights dancing nauseatingly in front of his eyes. His body felt weightless as the Mustang flew through the air.

The silent scream ringing in his ears came to a screeching halt as metal met gravel with a sickening crunch, with only the thin strap of his seat-belt keeping his rag doll body from being flung out in a hail of shattered windscreen. Red sparks burst on contact as the car lurched again into the air, landing hard, skidding fifty feet with pieces scraped off in its wake, and settled finally with all four tires on the road.

Shaking his head slowly, Raad winced as shards of glass from his now disintegrated windows dug deeper into his face. Biting back swears and tears, he tried to pluck out the bigger pieces, and set his eyes on his attacker.

The bulky black Ford 150 stood menacingly at the traffic lights, steam billowing in the cold night air from the heat vents on its wide hood.

Although the truck's front steel grill had dented significantly from the collision, the Mustang's side had taken the brunt of the brutal impact. The passenger-side door had caved in and the bright red paint had been cruelly scratched off, revealing the dull bruised silver underneath.

As Raad stared, the 150's driver-side door swung open and a pair of heavy boots thudded onto the ground. Raad gritted his teeth, anticipating the fresh hell he was about to face.

Stepping out from behind the door and armed with an assault rifle, Haji sneered down at the mutilated Mustang and it's driver. His thick mustachioed lips curled into a scage smile, Haji sauntered towards his prey, chuckling at his near certain victory.

"Raadi," Haji drawled in an almost sing-song voice. "You honestly thing you could get away from us?"

His boots crunched the glass on the asphalt as he taunted.

"From your family?"

Adventures of Spaceman Ifitkhar: Ek Mulaqaat

"Mayday! Mayday! This is Spaceman Iftikhar calling Mission Control!"

Spaceman Iftikhar could not see outside his helmet from all the black smoke surrounding him in the cockpit.

"Mission Control! I have crashed onto Planet UX-24, after suffering complete engine failure! I need backup, please send help!"

Spaceman Iftikhar blindly reached for the control panel and found the eject button. Squinting his eyes inside his helmet, he pushed it.

WHOOSH!

The top of the cockpit flew open, and Spaceman Iftikhar was launched high into the air. Opening his eyes, he saw the smoking wreck of his spaceship, the Shaheen-512, far below him. Planet UX-24 was remarkable, Spaceman Iftikhar noted. The sky was a soft shade of green, with purple clouds. The grass below was blue and the thin pointy trees had pink leaves!

Spaceman Iftikhar was not afraid of heights. He was a Spaceman after all! His missions were often far more dangerous, and for him ejecting out of a crashed spaceship was just another Tuesday.

Spaceman Ifitkhar pushed a button on his white spacesuit, and BOOM, his rocket-boosters ignited! He soared through the air and landed safely on the ground next to his ship.

Mission Control won't be pleased, thought Spaceman Iftikhar. It was his third crash this month! Mission Control will have to send someone to help him repair the Shaheen, but that would take days!

Spaceman Iftikhar did not want to wait, he was on a Mission after all. It was Spaceman Iftikhar's Mission to explore the far reaches of space and make exciting new scientific discoveries!

Planet UX-24 seemed most promising. Spaceman Iftikhar was the first astronaut to reach a planet so far far away from Earth.

Spaceman Iftikhar made his way up a hill, recording the fascinating environment around him. The blue grass was soft and swaying with the wind. Unlike Earth, this planet had two, although smaller, suns, and it was a bright sunny day.

Spaceman Iftikhar bumbled over in his fat spacesuit to one of the thin pink pointy trees. Beautiful shiny flowers surrounded the pale purple trunk. Each flower was star-shaped, with silver petals and golden centers. Spaceman Iftikhar was just about to pluck one from the tree trunk, when there was a loud chirp behind him!

Spaceman Iftikhar jumped, surprised! He spun around and saw something very unexpected.

It was a person! But a person unlike any other he had ever seen. They stood on two legs, and were taller than Spaceman Iftikhar. He looked down, and their feet were like long pink claws! Raising his eyes, he noticed they seemed almost human, but they didn't have arms. They had wings, with big purple feathers!

Their face was the most striking of all. Feathers instead of skin, big round golden eyes, and a giant beak instead of a nose and mouth!

Looking at this bird-person, Spaceman Iftikhar was speechless. The bird-person cocked its head to one side, and chirped pleasantly, raising its feathered arm as if to say hello.

Spaceman Iftikhar remembered his manners, and smiled and waved back.

"Hello! I'm Spaceman Ifitkhar and I'm from Earth! I must say, your planet is incredibly beautiful. I'm almost glad I crash landed here," Spaceman Iftikhar laughed. "What's your name?"

In a musical whistling voice, the bird-person replied, "Hello Spaceman Iftikhar! I am Bulbulik, and welcome to our planet, Zaflora!"

"My planet Earth is very different from Zaflora; our grass is green and sky is blue, and we only have one sun!" Spaceman Iftikhar said.

Bulbulik looked shocked. "Goodness, don't you get cold with only one sun?"

"No no!" Spaceman Iftikhar laughed. "We have many different climates and weather on Earth, from scorching heat to blistering cold!"

"Ah! Your planet sounds amazing, I would love to learn more about it," chirped Bulbulik. "Perhaps you would like to see more of Zaflora? You do seem to be stuck here for the time being."

"That is indeed my Mission, exploring and discovering the unknown!" Spaceman Iftikhar said excitedly. "Thank you, Bulbulik! I shall tell you more about Earth as well!"

Bulbulik happily clapped his wings together.

"Excellent! This was an amazing first meeting, Spaceman Iftikhar."

Spaceman Iftikhar nodded, "I agree Bulbulik, an amazing mulaqaat indeed."

Smoking Hot - 160 Degrees

Nestled in an unassuming corner between two grey plazas, you'll find a tiny burger joint, newly throwing their grilled meats and buns into Islamabad's burgeoning burger scene.

With a rustic wooden ambience, housing just 3 tables and 3 bar stools, 160 Degrees fills the cozy alcove ineffability.

I quickly received my barbecue infused Smokehouse Chicken Burger, and twas good.

Soft frim buns, decked with black sesame, housed twin pieces of chicken with edges tantalizingly char-grilled. Traditional vegetable assortment coating in between, with bright yellow cheese peeking from underneath completed the ensemble.

First big bite, and the generous rich BBQ sauce is loud and in-charge. The grilled crunch of the juicy chicken follows, finishing with a soft bun refusing to crumble, made for an excellent salutation.

Happy to report, the Smokehouse doesn't waver in it's stellar performance till the final curtain call, when I was left with smacked lips, fingers licked, and warm fuzzies.

Everything felt fresh, crisp, and straight of the grill. At 400 rupees for a sandwich, (550 combo), 160 Degrees will have you cooing for an encore.

Drag

Blood pounding in his ears, Raad's hand clawed at the cold metal of the gear knob, shifting hard into third. The engine howled with a deafening din and lurched forward, pressing him into the hot leather of his seat. Tires chewing the tarmac, Raad's ruby red Mustang, growling its V8 tenor, tore into the chilly November night.

Not to be outdone, Taha cackled while twisting the valve of the blue cylinder nestled at his side, unleashing nitrous-oxide to course through the pipes of his venomous green EvoX. Thirstily sucking in gallons of oxygen, the Mitsubishi chased after the glowing red embers of Raad's taillights.

Neon flames sputtering from the exhausts, Taha pulled level to the roaring Mustang and peered with eyes screaming from illicit chemicals at Raad staring laser-straight ahead, face contorted with concentration.

Too much is on the line, Raad agonized through gritted teeth. Slamming his heavy boot heal down till the pedal clanged against the metal floor, his crimson beast bellowed with hot rage and inched its nose ahead of the turbo screeching machine barreling alongside it.

The flickering lights of the intersection came closer at a sickening pace. With the end of the grueling trial in sight, Raad's knuckles whitened as his grip tightened around the steering wheel. Clenched jaw set in silent prayer, he willed the Mustang to go faster, just a bit more faster.

Taha's eyes flashed to the rising threat. His drug addled body twitching with every slight movement, a guttural lament escaped his throat.

Sensing victory drawing nearer, the Mustang thundered louder, a pack of rabid hounds under the hood, maws foaming, eager for the kill. Raad's vision tunneled until he could only see the fulgurating traffic lights. Tasting the rising bile, his mind blackened to a singular purpose: winning tonight.

Blaring white lights from his left snapped him out of his war-trance, and Raad just caught a split-second glimpse as the massive pickup truck smashed into the side of the Mustang.

Warrior Women

Dimmed lights. Black shrouds on otherwise welcoming furniture. Incense heavy in the air. Home decked for funerals of family long lost. Sorrow spilled fresh every year.

The ninth night, and the women in black huddle methodically on the carpet. Heirloom diaries are cracked open, fingers caress verses written by their mothers and their mothers' mothers. Mourning rises from within deep bellies and combusts on meeting air. Family poem, more sung than recited, give voice once more to the ancient matriarchs whose hearths first hosted black battlements.

The verses crescendo, anguish reverberating with beating chests. Banners bearing eternal sigils of peace will remain defiantly unfurled until the passing of the tenth day of war. But the war returns next year, every year.

The women will welcome it home.


- Published in Hobocamp Review Flash Around the Campfire Competition
https://hobocampreview.blogspot.com/2018/10/hasan-jamal-winner-of-flash-around.html

Rumble in the Prehistoric Jungle - Thoughts on Far Cry Primal

I recently finished playing Far Cry Primal, the placeholder installment between Far Cry 4: Himalayan Hysterics and the upcoming Far Cry 5: Hear the Far-Right Cry.

This installment on its own however, was a surprisingly good game (7/10 on Steam, 8/10 on GameSpot). The land of Oros, the prehistoric valley providing the setting, is incredibly pretty. From unforgiving jagged snow peaks with roaming packs of sabretooth tigers (there's always more than one!) and horrifying mammoth graveyards, to boggy swamp marshlands with roaming packs of bloodthirsty wolves, to open plains and rivers with roaming packs of bears, rhinos, elk, jaguars, crocodiles, cave-lions, and *shudder* badgers. The theme of the game is indeed, that you will be killed by roaming packs quite a bit, until you either level-up or learn to run AWAY from the stampeding mammoth herd. (Don't run into the water though, that's where the real toothy-death lies).

You play as chief manimal, Takkar, of the Wenja tribe, who has come to Oros to make colonizing the hip occupation of the late 10,000 B.C. But since sustainable co-habitation hasn't been invented yet, the Wenja are going toe to toe with two other tribes seeking prime real-estate domination: the cannibalistic Udam, and the fire-loving/hating Izila.

Apart from being probably the best pet simulator ("Tigers, Lions and Bears, oh my!" edition) that I have ever played, Primal captures the villains in a very interesting way. That is, they don't feel like villains.

"Who's my engine of death and destruction, who? It's you, yes you <3"

The Far Cry franchise historically has had very strong baddies, always more interesting than the very vanilla protagonists. The now iconic Far Cry 3: Drugs, Drugs, Drugs! villain, Vaas, exuded an evil aura with his calculated brutality and his interest in tumblresque philosophy. He also had a mohawk. However, the posited villains of Primal: the hulking Udam cheif Ull, and the Izila matriarch and god-queen Batari, are not out to sell drugs and corrupt the youth through questionable hairstyles.

Why.

Just like the protagonist's tribe, they also came to Oros escaping harsh conditions with dreams of settling down in a neighborhood where death by fauna wasn't as statistically rampant. The Udam, arriving in the north of Oros, suffer from a migraine epidemic, and chronic toxic flatulence (maybe from all the people eating).  The Izila seem to have been settled in Oros quite some time before the Wenja came, with organized religion, agriculture, battle-armor and a female leader (insert current political allegory here).

Sure, they are both out to cook and eat you (literally), but I can't really hold it against them. The tribes practice cruelty like its an art-form, but it doesn't necessarily feel evil. They are cruel because Oros itself is cruel and merciless. Go too north and you freeze to death, or die by toxic farts. Anywhere else and you get mauled, or drown, or fall down a cliff, or get food poisoning, or a cave-bear decides to invite you to dinner, followed by a badger putting you permanently to sleep. Danger and death roam free and wild in Oros, and it is those qualities that the residents inhabit to survive.

Ull, although a lover of bashing brains, is also a single-dad. Juggling parent-hood and leading a tribe of sick people-eaters definitely has its unique challenges and stresses (perhaps leading to more people-eating).

He has his father's lust for human flesh.

Batari, on the Izila side of things, is always getting her fashion-choices questioned, and not having her policies taken seriously (probably until she pushes the opposition into a pit of fire). It's not easy running a cultish flame flinging tribe of men, whose own houses are quite flammable.

Those eyes are aflame, with the bodies of her enemies.

As the protagonist, Takkar is no shining example of humanity either. Leaving a trail of corpses, both man and animal alike, in his bloody wake, he is no stranger to harnessing the cruel savagery of nature itself. Unleashing his menagerie of wild beasts on unsuspecting victims is Takkar's modus operandi. So is the Udam-signature brain bashing, the Izila-signature burning-you-alive, and Takkar's very own having-an-owl-bomb-drugs-on-you. So apart from the rampant murder, Takkar may be accused of cultural appropriation to boot.

The Far Cry protagonists have almost always been blank slates, into which the player may fill their own personality and character through their playstyle. It has been the villains who bring the flavor. The "villains" of Primal are as much a part of the landscape as the trees or the leopards. Because the most primal of human nature has always been about this: survival.

Image Credits: 
http://estookin.deviantart.com/art/DELIRIUM-Vaas-Montenegro-Far-Cry-3-453214055
https://assets.vg247.com/current//2015/12/far_cry_primal_Screen_Pet_Wolf_BeastMaster_Reveal_151204_5AM_CET-Copy.jpg
http://www.joshobrouwers.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/03/batari.jpg