D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

[Malrone]

Well hell, would you look at that? THE THREAD LIVES! I was afraid the life here had petered out. Would have posted more myself, but internet is not present at my new home. Doesn't mean I stopped writing, however.

Struck by a potential return to active play, I have been writing (and rewriting) a timeline of abbreviated events from Danzril's life. I would like to package them all together at some point, but it isn't done!

Instead, have the much shortened, canonically dubious, intended climax to what I had started before, those months ago. You remember that, right?

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He sat in the plush chair, shifting around and sweating. The comforts of James Merryweather's office did little to put Dan at ease, especially after the turn their conversation just took.

“You want me to help you, yes, you've been a good friend and a good customer, but God's Light Danzril! I never would have thought you were the one that was thrown out, that you would do such a- a dark thing.” The plump merchant took another swallow of wine, and refilled his cup from the decanter on the desk between them. “You're such a bright young man, you would have gone far.”

Dan had almost forgotten how pious the man he had purchased so many gifts from was. Being reminded of Pelor burned the desperate ex-archivist more than the scolding did.

“I can't do much for you, you have to understand that. You've been excommunicated, for pity's sake! No, after what you've done, the local Radiant Father should be aware of your presence. At lea-”

Dan sprung from his chair, eyes wide, and seized James from across the desk, hauling the larger man forward with panic-fueled strength. “NO! You can't! Gods be damned, why can't you just help me? The church will only make my life harder now, take even more away!” A black aura had formed around the sacrilegious younger man, growing in intensity with his fervor. He began shaking the merchant, who was grasping at Dan's hands, gaping like a landed fish. The emanation seeped into the merchant, and stole the color from everything it touched. “Please please, you have money, tons of it! I just need enough to get going on my own, to leave. You can spare it! I know you can! Just don't tell the church, don't tell them... don't.”

James had gone limp during the action, and Dan let him go. His fat form thumped down onto the desk, spilling red wine everywhere. Veins bulged weirdly along his neck, like long black worms. His flesh was pallid; he wasn't breathing.

“No, no, nononono. That- I wasn't trying to- they messed up the- oh no.” Dan began to cry. Everything had gone wrong, was wrong! The sight now-dead body brought waves of unbearable nausea with it. He vomited over the once-fine rug, and staggered to the wall. He pressed his forehead against it, trying to control the foul energy still pouring off of himself. After a dozen hard seconds, the aura dissipated, and Danzril breathed. Suddenly realizing how loud he had been, and how quiet things were now, Dan grabbed that precious guisarme propped up in the corner took off out of the room without a glance back.

He ran out of the building, from the town, and away from everything he knew.

If you feel like there is important context missing, you're probably right. Every snippet is essentially in medias res, and they support each other. Full thing in time, I promise.

[mebecronck]

@Malrone
Yes, the thread still lives. Just remember that this is a thread for people writing, and as such it might not get new posts as fast as other threads. Some people get stuck in writer's block. Others only like to write when the mood hits them. I know someone who only writes when the moon is waxing (going from new moon to full).

[Malrone]

Well, leading up to my (not yet resolved) internet drought, there was about a solid month of inactivity, and looking at the dates, another month and a half break after that. I haven't been on this thread long, but I want to be sure I'm keeping the necromancy IC.

[Arkhosia]

Hi! Welcome back to the internets. Come for the info, stay for the lolcats.
P.s. could you guys help me with this backstory?
http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showp...&postcount=469

[mebecronck]

You have been waiting for it. Now it is finally here. Chapter ... 4!

What, thought it was going to be a joke, again.

I decided to focus on getting the novel done first, before getting caught up in editing. So, the whole novel as a first draft, then revisions.

Please, critique, though. I will read them. I just might not apply them until after I finish all the chapters.

Also, I will get around to critiquing your works. Just give me time.

Without further adieu:

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The Misadventures of Jessica
in High School

Chapter 4
Interrogation

"Hey! Careful, you idiot." Watson almost runs right into the Internal Affairs rep. He tries to stop her, but she is to focused on getting the interrogation rooms. Navigating the halls of the precinct is more difficult than normal.

After turning down a few more halls and up a flight of stairs, Watson reaches Interrogation Room 3. A guard stands right outside. He is taking this job more seriously than it deserves. He stands at full attention. Arms behind his back, perfect upright posture, a practical statue or a mimic of the U.K.'s Royal Guard.

"At ease, soldier." Watson laughs.

"Officer Watson, do you need to see the sus ..." He stops himself, " Uh, girl?"

"Yeah, I'm sure The Chief sent word that I'm bringing her some food." She holds up a plastic bowl with a covered lid. The lid has the name of a local grocery store and says 'Garden Salad' on the label. The label crosses over the edge to double as a seal to prevent tampering.

"I'm going to need to check that before you take it inside."

"In case you forgot, she is not a suspect, inmate, not convict. She is a little girl that is in over her head." She thinks over those words after speaking them, unsure how true any of it is.

The guard tries to respond, but before his mouth can open Watson is already through the door.

*****

Watson enters the room to see Jessica stretching her body in front of the mirror. She has one arm on her hip and leaning into it extending the other arm and same wing. She then switches to the other side. Watson is once again silenced by the sight of her wings moving so naturally.The sound of Jessica's rumbling stomach interrupts the silence.

"Oh! I really wish I have that trail mix." Watson can hear the pain in her voice.

"How about a salad?"

The sound of Watson's voice makes Jessica turn around. She tucks in wings in tight and clasps her hands in front or her lap and bows down.

"I'm sorry. I didn't hear you enter." She raises her head back up and greets Watson with a smile. Her stomach roars again and her smile twitches with it.

"No need to apologize." Watson waves a hand to a seat, "Please, take a seat. The least I can do is give you something to eat. After all, you did save my life."

"Oh, you don't owe me anything." She waves her hands in front of her, "I don't want you to feel indebted to me."

"Then take this salad as a gift from a friend." Watson takes a seat opposite from her. This side is typically reserved for the person being interrogated.

"Well, ..." Jessica's stomach growls in protest, "It would be rude to refuse a gift." She says as she rubs her head. She pulls back the chair in front of her and turns it sideways before she sits down. Watson can tell her wings would be crushed against the back of the chair if she sat in it normally.

Watson places the bowl on the table and opens the lid. On top of the salad is a pack of ranch dressing and a plastic fork. She pushes the bowl to the other side of the table in front of Jessica. She watches her, expecting to see her clasp her hands together, close her eyes, and say grace.

"What is this made out of?" Jessica says staring at the bowl and picking up the fork.

"Plastic." Watson answers. "Have you never seen plastic before?"

"No, ma'am." Her stomach growls in louder protest, interrupting her curiosity. She removes the dressing from the bowl and digs in with the fork. The first bite is big and it takes a while for Jessica to chew it.

Watson is surprised to see Jessica not pray before eating. "Did you forget to say grace?"

"Mwa?" Jessica forgets herself for a moment and tries to answer with her mouth still full. She quickly covers her mouth and blushes in embarrassment. She quickly chews the food and swallows. "I'm sorry. What is 'saying grace', ma'am?"

This shocks Watson even more. "When you pray before you eat. You thank God for the food and ... you blessings ... ummm."

"Is this something cultural? Did I offend you?" Jessica voice lowers, again. "I'm sorry."

"No. No. It's okay. I just thought you would be ... religious."

"Oh, I know what you mean now. No, it is ... well ... different for me." Jessica struggles to find the way to describe what she means.

"Is it because you are an angel?"

"What?" Jessica eyes open wide and she drops her fork. She fumbles around to catch it and just barely stops it from hitting the floor. She pulls herself back up and looks directly at Watson. "I'm not an angel."

"So, what are you?"

"I'm a deva ... well, half-deva." Jessica takes another small bite of food.

"You are a diva? Like, opera singer or movie star?" Watson holds back a laugh at such an unexpected answer.

Jessica takes the time to swallow before answering, "No. Deva. Day like daylight. Va like in," she pauses while she thinks of an example.

"I get it. Then, what is a day-va?" she over accents the pronunciation.

"Devas are the bulk of the soldiers in a deities army. They are normally mindless and can only do what the deity wills them to do. My father is the second to be gifted with free will and the first to accend to deific status."

Watson pauses to absorb this new information. Something did not feel right about what she just said. "Okay, first: what you just described sounds a lot like an angel to me. Second: deity? As in God?"

"Angels are different in many ways from devas. Physical appearance for one. They got more wings, they're bigger, and ... well." She pauses to gather her thoughts. "The most important difference is angels already have free will. They act like intermediary commanders for the deity's armies. Oh, and deities are not gods."

"So, what are they?"

Jessica takes another bite of food before she answers to give her time to organize her thoughts. She swallows and says, "Gods are immortal and all powerful. If a God wills something to be, it is. Deities are very powerful and can live forever, but they can die and there is limits to their power."

"So, are you half-deity, too?" Watson is completely stunned by what she is hearing. It might not be just what Jessica is telling her, but it might be because she believes it.

"No. Deity status doesn't get passed on from parent to child. I did inherit some of the power, though. The power to heal others by touching them for one."

"I remember that. Thank you, again. Is there anything else you inherited?"

"Ummm ... my wings, but that is from my dad being a deva. My dad says I will live for a very long time. The only way I will know that for sure is with time, though." She chuckles to herself an then her eyes pop open, "OH! I can tolerate extreme temperatures."

"Are you saying ... what? You are fire-proof?"

"No, but the island I grew up on has extreme seasons. Boiling heat in the summer and snow in the winter. While the rest of the monks dress for the changes, I always felt comfortable in light robes."

"That is a weird super-power?" Watson cracks a smile and leans back in the chair.

"Super-power? I like the sound of that word. It fits, well." Jessica smiles and puts down the fork. She only finished half the salad. "It is helpful though. I have to dress in special backless robes to fit my wings."

Watson chuckles at that. "I see your point."

There is a brief pause in the conversation. Watson starts to review in her mind everything that has been said so far.

"Tell me about this island." Watson breaks the silence.

"Oh, uh, I'm not sure I should. The monks really want to keep the place secret." Jessica mentally scolds herself for bringing it up so casually earlier.

"Whatever you say won't leave this room. I promise."

"Well ..." Jessica struggles with whether to tell her or not. "Okay.

The island was made by father. It is supposed to be a place where he can separate himself from humanity. I don't know why he did that, but it obviously didn't work so well. The order of monks followed after him and set up a monastery. And," she breaks eye contact and looks to her right, "... oh, ... sorry. Dad says I shouldn't tell you anymore."

"Your ... dad?" Watson leans forward.

"Yes, ma'am."

"He is listening right now?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"... and he can talk to you."

"He can talk to you as well."

"I would like to hear this." Even with all the weird things that have happened so far, Watson doesn't believe that Jessica's dad can hear and speak to her without being present. Watson leans back in her chair, again, and crosses her arms.

"Do you want to ask the officer something, Dad?"

"I just want to make sure you don't reveal any secrets of the island, daughter." A deep masculine voice emits from the cener of the table. Watson almost falls back in her chair. "I know you don't want me to interfere in your new life, my daughter, but this is something I couldn't stay quiet on."

"I understand, Dad. I shouldn't have spoken about the island."

"What? How? What!?" Watson is taken completely off-guard.

"Do you want me to help you out of this, daughter?"

"This is my first day away from the island, dad. I got to handle this myself. I can't be dependent on you forever."

"I understand." There is a brief pause, "Henry wants me to ask you something." Another momentary pause. "He wants to know if you have Bram Stoker's Dracula. He says he can't find it, and doesn't remember if he gave it to you or not."

"I haven't had the chance to look through all the books he gave me. I'm not sure. I will let you know when I get my bag back." The whole time Watson just watches. It is like she is watching a casual conversation with a girl and a table. She doesn't know how to react or what to say.

"Enjoy your journey, daughter. Remember you always have a home to return to."

"Thank you, Dad. Tell everyone on the island I miss them already."

Everything remains quiet for a while. Watson's stare keeps switching between Jessica and the table. "Is he still listening?" Watson's voice is noticeable shaky.

"Most likely, but he won't speak unless address him directly. It tends to freak people out."

"So ... deity power?"

"Yes, ma'am. Deity super-power."

"So ... you are basically just ... moving out on your own." Watson is starting to regain some semplance of comfort.

"Kind of." Jessica hold her hand up level and shakes it back and forth. "I also want to see the world. I want to just ... expand out ... I been living on a tiny island my whole life. There is a whole world to see. I want to know what it looks like in person instead of on pages in a book."

"Well," Watson stands up and walks to the other side of the table and sticks out her hand, "let me welcome you to Los Angeles. If we ever find the time I will be happy to show you the sights."

Jessica looks at her hand for a moment. She stands up and clasps on to it with both hands. As she shakes her hand she says, "Thank you for the warm greeting Miss ... ummm."

"Officer Janet Watson." she finishes for her as they release hands.

"Watson? Like Sherlock's partner?"

"Yeah, but I'm an officer. Not a detective."

"It is a pleasure to be formally introduced Miss ... Officer Watson."

"Please, call me Janet."

[Arkhosia]

Yay! More Jess!
Officer Watson handled it pretty well.

[Malrone]

@Arkhosia
Forgive me for a moment of incredulity, but being a third edition player, "Drow Paladin" was a system shock.

Sounds like a concept with potential. I'd certainly like to see Lolth challenged by one of her own in a direct way. The sorcerous blood sounds like an afterthought the way it is put, like an "Oh and I can [X] too." I'm not trying to be rude, but maybe the origin of the power or her efforts with it could be developed more.

Try not become a Drider, haha.

@mebecronk
Turning out nicely, I think. The impromptu planar lore lesson is surreal with it's matter-of-fact quality, but that seems to have been the intent. It is what Jessica's knows more intimately.

Technical stuff:

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I really wish I have that trail mix

Context considered, "wish I had that" should be a more appropriate phrase.

The island was made by father. It is...

There is a missing front quotation mark here.

I got to handle this myself

This sounds uncharacteristically young, or simply incorrect. "I've got to" or "I have to" might be better.

[Arkhosia]

@Arkhosia
Forgive me for a moment of incredulity, but being a third edition player, "Drow Paladin" was a system shock.

Sounds like a concept with potential. I'd certainly like to see Lolth challenged by one of her own in a direct way. The sorcerous blood sounds like an afterthought the way it is put, like an "Oh and I can [X] too." I'm not trying to be rude, but maybe the origin of the power or her efforts with it could be developed more.

Try not become a Drider, haha.

@mebecronk
Turning out nicely, I think. The impromptu planar lore lesson is surreal with it's matter-of-fact quality, but that seems to have been the intent. It is what Jessica's knows more intimately.

Technical stuff:

Spoiler

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Context considered, "wish I had that" should be a more appropriate phrase.


There is a missing front quotation mark here.


This sounds uncharacteristically young, or simply incorrect. "I've got to" or "I have to" might be better.

I'll try not to run into any Yochols too.

I am actually going to remove the sorcerer part. I recently got heroes of elemental chaos and really wanted to use some type of magic, but I wasn't really thinking clearly.

[mebecronck]

Chapter 5! I'm on a roll.

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The Misadventures of Jessica
in High School

Chapter 5
Madness

"Officer Watson." The guard opens the door, interrupting the conversation. The mood of the conversation was just starting to calm down. Jessica started to cover some of the sights she wants to see. Mostly museums and zoos, but the first place she wants to go to is a library.

"What is it?" Janet asks with a smile. The smile fades when she sees the serious expression on the guard's face.

"It's ...," he looks at the young girl sitting sideways in the chair, "there is a situation down the hall. We might need your help."

Janet looks at Jessica and says with a reassuring smile, "I will be right back. I'm sure it is nothing to worry about."

Janet gets up from the table and walks out the door. The guard follows after her, leaving the door open behind him.

Jessica sits alone in the room. With the door open she can hear the commotion outside. People are screaming and someone with a deep voice is shouting over them. She can't make out what is being said.

'Stay where you are, Jessica.' She thinks to herself. 'I'm sure they got things well in hand.' She tells herself this over and over, again, but the far louder voice inside her head wins out.

She gets up from her chair and walks slowly to the door. She pokes her head out and quickly looks both ways. She can see a crowd of police officers down the right side of the hall. The deep voice she could make out before is louder in the hall, but still not clear.

She walks her way slowly towards the commotion. The voice gets louder and clearer with each step. By the time she is half way down the hall she can start to make out what is being said.

"The Angel of Death will arrive at the dusk and reap the souls of two thirds the population! You have seen the sign! The TV showed The Angel judge those who indulge in sins of the flesh."

She works around the cops until she can see what is going. The police are too focused on to notice her approach. Some of them have tasers drawn and pointing into the corner. Others have pepper spray. Neither of these things Jessica recognizes, though.

Looking around the room, she can tell whatever is happening is going on in the far corner. The hallway opened up into a large room filled with desks and filing cabinets. Paper is spread across the floor and chairs clutter the walkways.

No matter where she stands she can't seem to see what is happening in the far corner. Frustrated she steps up on a chair and then a the table in front of it. From this height she can see what has caused all this mayhem.

In the corner of the room she sees a disheveled man with a maniacal expression on his face. He is backed into a corner and is using a skinny man with thick glasses as a human shield. The filthy man is holding something up to the side of his shield's neck.

The moment Jessica stood up on the table the mad man stopped his rant and gazed at her in awe. "The Angel of Death has shown herself to me!"

At this everyone in the room turns to look at Jessica.

"JESSICA!" Janet's voice emits from the crowd of blue uniforms, but Jessica can't place exactly where it comes from.

"An offering for you, my Angel." The lunatic shoves the tool in his hand deep into the skinny man's neck. A river of crimson flows from the wound as he falls to the ground. Jessica stares in horror as an officer take the opening to unleash his taser. Janet quickly moves forward to apply pressure to the wound. Garcia secures the madman with a zip-tie.

Jessica is frozen for a moment. She has never witnessed anything like this before, and she fears she may be responsible. As she looks at the little man convulsing on the ground her terror is pushed aside.

"I can help him." She says softly. The crowd of officers are in a panic. Everyone shouting at everyone. Her voice is lost in the noise. "I can help him!" she shouts as she jumps down from the table and tries to move through the mass of bodies. "Let me through! I can help!"

"I think you have done enough." One officer grabs her by the shoulders. His grip is strong and his voice is commanding. He stares at her with a grimace on his face.

"I know I can help him. You got to let me through!" She swings her shoulders back and forth and tries to pull away, but no avail.

"No, way. You have caused enough trouble already."

"LET ... ME ... GO!" She spreads her wings out wide, knocking over tables and cabinets. She starts to flap them hard. The downdraft kicks up lose paper and dust. The force is strong enough to push back the officer that is holding on to her.

All the cops around her back away. Jessica feels a little ashamed that she lost her temper, but stows that emotion until she can help the wounded man.

She pulls her wings in and runs across the room. Janet is still applying pressure to his neck. The man is now unconscious. "Here, let me take over." Jessica says in a calm voice.

Janet removes her hand from his neck. The flow of blood is now weak and a pool of scarlet now surrounds his body. Jessica places her left hand over the wound and her right on his forehead. She closes her eyes and focuses on channeling healing energy into his body.

A soft glow dances across her body. It floats down her arms and into the man. After a few moments the man's eyes open. Jessica pulls away her hands and greats the little guy with a smile. "Are you feeling better?"

"Why do my clothes feel wet?" The man says unsteady. He nervously looks at Jessica and then Janet. "Officer Watson?"

"Yes." Janet responds.

"You still need to fill out that incident report." The skinny man finishes the with a laugh.

Jessica stands up and turns toward the hallway. The stares of every officer in the room halt her in her tracks. No one says a single word. Everyone has stopped dead in their tracks.

The Chief of Police steps out from the crowd. His expression almost mirrors that everyone else in the room, but his expression changes to that of rage. He points at the unconscious lunatic, "Take him to a holding cell ... the basement ... the ceiling ... chain him to the wall if you have to ... " His voice grows in anger at each suggestion, "JUST GET HIM OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

The Chief turns his finger to Jessica. "You!" She wishes she could turn invisible, as she closes her eyes and braces for the shouting that will surely ensue. "Thank you." His voice is calm and sincere.

"Ummm ...." Jessica is caught unprepared. She braced for a verbal thrashing, but was met with gratitude. Her face turns bright red from embarrassment.

The Chief moves his commanding finger to Janet. "Officer Watson. Take this girl back to her room, and make sure she stays there this time."

"Yes, sir." Janet stands up. Without even taking the time to clean the blood off her hands she escorts her back to the interrogation room.

Jessica steps into the room, and asks one question to the Janet before she leaves.

"Am I in trouble?"

"I don't think so, but you might not want to press your luck any further today."

A new bio for you and a short story.

The short story works as an introduction to some of the other weird characters that run around in my head. Since Jessica is in it, if you want a timeline, consider it to be after the novel I'm working on. There are no novel spoiler in it, so relax.

Cronc character bio: (Hey, isn't that the guy in my handle)

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Character Bio:

Cronc
(KrunK)

Species: Half-Orc

Age: 19

Gender: Male

Appearance: Dark Green skin with black hair and brown eyes. Stands over seven feet tall when hunched over (his typical posture) and over eight feet tall when fully upright (when enraged). He weighs almost half a ton, which is mostly muscle, but he does have a bit of a gut. He has scars all over his body. His lower jaw protrudes out revealing two tusks like fangs, one is broken.

Background: His mother is human and his father an orc. His mother was a slave to an orc band when mercenaries attacked and killed all the orcs, Cronc's father included. They rescued his mother, pregnant with Cronc. As a small child, raised within the mercenary band, but was never trusted due to his half blood heritage. His only friend was a young girl named Pisces, who Cronc just called P due to trouble with pronouncing the name. When playing away from camp in a small pond, P jumped into the water and bumped her head. Cronc never learned to swim. He went for help, but when they saw Pisces dead in the water they blamed Cronc. Though Cronc's mom tried to defend him, he was chased from the camp and forced to live in the wild. In the wild he grew strong quickly, and learned to survive off the land. He would challenge himself by taking on bigger and bigger prey. Eventually he found his way back into civilization, but still he didn't fit in. The difference this time, he is tough enough that it doesn't matter.

Traits: Ridiculously strong. Hard headed. Highly defensive of his friends. Easy going. World wise.

Flaws: Ridiculously dumb. Short fused about certain things: When someone messes with his friends, when you call him dumb, when you steal his food or drink, when you steal his axe. Can't read. Afraid of large bodies of water (anything you can swim in). Not very hygienic.

Skills: Well trained with an axe. Knows how to live off the land. Knows how to be intimidating (mostly involves being present and looking at you).

Languages: English/Common ... kind of.

Hobbies: Eating, drinking, smashing. Combinations of the previous.

Powers: He can become enraged. A bestial state where he becomes even stronger and is driven more by instinct.

Special: Young or short human girls remind him of P. He feels even more defensive of them than even his closest friends. If he sees someone messing with one, his temper becomes even shorter fused (or he just might blow). He is very gullible and can be very easily smooth talked or tricked into doing the wrong thing. He makes friends easily, as in he calls anyone that will share a drink and a fight with him his friend. Literally, if you share a drink with him, and then join him in the following bar fight, you are his friend.

Story Ideas: What ever inspiration hits me. No novel ideas, yet. Short stories abound, though.

The Mystery of the Missing Sammich

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The Mystery
of the
Missing Sammich

A Cronc Short

"WARE CRONC SAMMICH?!" Cronc is furious. He just had that sandwich a moment before. He moves from room to room, looking under every plate and bowl. Then throwing the searched dishes against the far wall.

"I swear, every time we get together for these reunions something different sets him off." Thazar says unphased by Cronc's rampage. The old wizard sits at one of the unchecked tables across from a young girl in yellow clothes. Himself, being dressed in red robes and a bald head covered in arcane tattoos doesn't stand out from the rest of the motley crew of individuals.

Thazar makes a subtle gesture with his left hand and an arcane aura wraps around the fragmented dishes. The shattered remains float up from the floor and merge together, eventually finding their proper place on the nearby tables. All the while, Thazar never takes his focus from the open book in front of him, and warm tea in his right hand.

"Well I think he brings spirit to the party." The young girl speaks with a southern accent. Her wide brimmed hat and yellow duster jacket still dirty from the desert. She is maintaining her M1 Garand rifle, currently in pieces in front of her.

Thazar takes his eyes from the book to glare at the young girl. "Lue-Lee, he is hardly adding spirit to this gathering. He is just looking to start a fight with someone."

"That's the spirit I'm talking about!" Lue-Lee says with a smile, her eyes brighten at the opportunity to spar with Cronc, again. She quickly starts to reassemble her rifle.

"Excuse me." A feminine voice echoes from all directions. A pool of water coalesces in the middle of the room. It takes the shape of a short girl with flowing hair. Her whole body is transparent.

"Good afternoon, Mist. Glad you can join us." Thazar says unimpressed.

"A pleasure to be here." Her lips do not move and the voice continues to emit from all sides. Mist is a sentient being made up of water. The only way she can communicate is by manipulating the water vapor in the air and make it imitate sound waves. "Cronc asked me to look for his sandwich, but I can't seem to find it anywhere."

"Did you check everywhere?" Lue-Lee asks in a more rhetorical way than actual concern.

"Yes, I did." Mist answers. Her senses reach to wherever she can extend water she has control over. At this moment, she is looking at every inch of the house.

"Good luck with your hunt then." Lue-Lee is hiding her excitement. Perhaps she will get a fight out this.

*****

"WHU TUK CRONC SAMMICH?!" Cronc runs out onto the back porch. Not bothering to open the door in the process. He starts to look around and sees no one in sight.

"Uncle Cronc!" A familiar girl's voice suddenly comes from the sky. Cronc turns his head up to see a young girl with feathered wings floating down from the sky.

"JESS! JESS!" Cronc immediately forgets his pursuit of the missing sandwich and beams a giant smile at Jessica. He opens his arms wide and catches her with a big hug, spinning her around as she hugs him back. "How chu bin?" Cronc asks as he puts her down.

"It has been wonderful. Los Angeles is amazing. I wish I could introduce you to the lovely family I'm living with. Oh, and I'm learning so much in high school." Jessica is excited. For the first time she has stories to share instead of just hearing about all the exciting things others have done.

She is dressed in completely different clothes from her normal robes. A sleeveless and backless green shirt, relaxed fit blue jeans, and white sneakers. She has her hair pulled back into a pony tail with a red ribbon. She sticks her hand in her right pocket and pulls out a gold ring with a heart shaped diamond. She puts it on her right ring finger and her wings immediately vanish.

"I don't want to be rude, though." Jessica says in a restrained voice. "So, how has life been on the other planes?"

"Cronc hav fun." Cronc focuses his mind to organize his words. It is difficult for him to form long sentences or to put a series of them in order. "Cronc fin baug lizzy thing! Eet trie eet Cronc. Din, CRONC SMASH LIZZY!" Cronc illustrates this by clasping his fists together and swinging them up and down. He puts his hands on his hips then starts to laugh. With a big grin he finishes, "Din Cronc eet lizzy!"

"Sounds like you had a crazy time." Jessica says with a genuine smile. "So how is the reunion going? I'm not the last to arrive, am I?"

"Partah gud!" Cronc says. Then he remembers why he came out here. "SUM WON STULE CRONC SAMMICH!" He waves both fists in the air.

Jessica places a hand on Cronc's chest. He calms down and looks down into her smiling face. "It's okay, Cronc. I will go get you another sandwich."

Cronc takes a deep breath and says, "Oh kay." Jessica and Cronc walk inside through the hole which once held a door. "Cronc wunt lootsa meet!"

*****

"Greetings, father." Jessica says as she walks into the kitchen. Jack is standing over a counter stirring up something in a big mixing bowl. Instead of being dressed in his heavy ornate armor, he is wearing white linen. a stained apron, and a sous chef's hat.

"Greetings, daughter. How are you enjoying Los Angeles?" He already knows. He also knows that his daughter would like to tell him the story.

"It is wonderful. I will tell you all about it over dinner." Jessica takes a seat and crosses her legs, placing her hands in her lap. "Thank you for sending me an invitation. It is good to see everyone, again."

"Just because you moved out doesn't mean I'm no longer your father, nor does it mean I no longer love you." Jack says in flat tones. He feels emotions, but is to hard-boiled to properly show them.

"I know, father. I am just glad to finally live my life outside of the umbrella of protection that surrounds you. There is so much that I missed out on. There is so much to experience. Just reading about it in books isn't enough."

"Our final guest has arrived. Would you mind properly welcoming him, daughter? He is at the front door." Jack says without missing a beat. The kitchen is nowhere near the front door, but he knows well that the final guest is here.

"Sure thing, father." Jessica gets up and starts to walk to the door. Just before she reaches the kitchen door, she stops and says "By the way, Cronc said someone stole his sandwich. I promised him I would get him a new one. Do you have any already made?"

"There is one wrapped up in the ice box." He prepared it the moment he heard Cronc shout the first time.

Jessica takes the sandwich out of the box. "Extra meat?"

"Yes, daughter."

"Thanks, I will give it to him after I answer the front door."

*****

"Welcome to the party." Jessica says as she opens the door.

"It is good to be here." The large gray feline answers in a Russian accent. He stands on all four paws, but is still able to look her directly in the eyes. His fur turned gray from age and his right eye is starting to lose its luster. His left eye is pale and blind from the scar that crosses it. His thick mane is a darker gray than the rest of his body.

"Kiev!" Jessica shouts and wraps her arms around his thick furry neck. After a long embrace she pulls away and says, "Are you still scaring the monks away from the forest?" She speaks of the dark forest that makes up half the island the grew up on. Kiev was tasked with guarding a relic that sits in the middle of it, but since its discovery by Jack, he now just scares the monks as a hobby.

"I do enjoy watching them run away in terror, but it is starting to bore me. They no longer react with such drama anymore." Kiev follows Jessica inside, his body almost fills the hallway. He sniffs at the air, "What is that delicious smell? Is Jack trying a new recipe?"

"I don't know. He is cooking up something new in the kitchen."

"I can't wait to try it. Perhaps he will let me lick the bowl clean." He tries to push his way towards the kitchen. Jessica blocks his path with her arms spread wide.

"No way. You got to wait just like the rest of us."

"Oh. I promise to leave ..."

"Just because you can eat raw meat without getting sick, doesn't mean you get to eat before everyone else."

"Fine. I will wait. It smells like it is almost done cooking, anyhow."

As they walk through the house, heading for the dining room, Jessica turns around and starts to walk backwards, "Have you changed your mind about letting me heal that scar of yours."

"No, and I would appreciate it if you would stop pestering me about it. The scar gives me character."

"Okay, then" Jessica says with a pout and turns back around.

*****

"I got you a sandwich, Cronc." Jessica walks up behind him and taps him on the back.

Cronc turns around and picks Jessica up in a big bear hug. "TANK U JESS JESS!" He would have crushed the sandwich if she didn't quickly raise her hands up over her head. He places her back on her feet and takes the sandwich from her. He opens his mouth wide ready to eat the whole thing, wrapper and all, when a voice comes from the kitchen.

"Everyone take your seats, please." Jack announces and then rings the dinner bell. "Dinner is served."

*****

Everyone heads for their seats, except from Kiev, who takes one end of the dinner table. Thazar manages to tear his eyes from his book for a moment. Lue-Lee has her rifle holstered and a disgruntled look on her face. Mist gathers water vapor to form sheets of ice and uses them to move plates from the kitchen to the dinner table. Jack removes his apron and leaves to change his attire for something more proper for a dinner party. Jessica sits down next to Cronc, how keeps switching his gaze between the rest of the people at the table and his sandwich.

"Kin Cronc eet nao?"

"I'm sorry, but no. I think my dad wants to speak before we eat." Jessica places one hand on Cronc's arm to reassure him.

"Wai u tink dat?"

"Because he gives a little speech at every gathering?" Thazar's answer has more than just a hint of boredom in it.

"Really? This is only my second time, but as long winded as he was the first time. The food was cold by the time he finished." Lue-Lee eyes Cronc and wonders if something else might set him off before the party is over. The most fun she had at the last gathering was the brawl with him after dinner.

"Grandpa Thazar de'Haphet! Cousin Lue-Lee! Father is just trying to show his appreciation." Jessica feels a bit hurt by their commentary.

"I don't mind if the food gets cold. If you don't want to eat yours then I will gladly take care of it." Kiev interjects.

"No way, amigo. Jack has been making a big fuss over this new recipe and I'm going to sink my teeth into it. Hot, cold, warm, whatever." Lue-Lee points at Kiev with her fork with each adjective.

"If you want, you can have mine." Mist's voice echoes throughout the room.

"Of course, considering you don't eat." Thazar states the obvious with flare.

"He still sets a place for me at the table. He feels it is proper manner."

While everyone is distracted by the conversation, Cronc starts to take big bites out of his sandwich. Jack then enters the room in a black suit and tie.

"I think you might have over dressed there, Jackie." Lue-Lee says and points with a laugh.

"I have to disagree, and please do not call me Jackie." Jack says flat toned as ever. He pulls out his chair at the head of the table and stands in front of it. "Before we begin I would like to say a few words."

"Called it." Thazar says with a snap. He extends his left hand to Lue-Lee, who promptly places a five dollar bill into it.

"Yes. Your wager from earlier. Now, if I may have a moment to speak." Jack continues.

Cronc, watching Jack begin his speech, raises an empty hand to his mouth, expecting a sandwich. When no food enters his mouth he starts to become angry. "HAY! WHO TUK CRONC SAMMICH?!"

"Well that is one mystery solved." Thazar says with a grin.

"Uncle Cronc! Did you eat ... " Jessica begins.

"ALRIGHT!" Lue-Lee interrupts. Jumping up on the table with fists clenched. "I'm not letting this one pass me by. OW, CRONC! I took your sandwich. Whacha gonna do about it?"

The fight that ensues will make a great story for the reunion next year.

@EVERYONE

(Waiting for anyone to post anything. I don't like making multiple posts in a row, but subscribers don't get an email when I edit a previous post. So, if I want the readers to know I added a new story, then I got to make a new post. Since making multiple posts in a row is against forum rules I try my best not to do it. So, would someone ... ANYONE ... post anything. Even just saying, "Hi". It would be nice if you commented on my recent work, but just posting anything is all I want. Please.)

[Arkhosia]

Hi!
Once again, I'm making another character bio in my favorite format.
I know, I'm falling in a loop.
This was only written because I had to go and buy heroes of the feywild.

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Name: Sariel Feydusk

Gender: Female

Age: 49

Race: Drow.

Class: Invoker, rogue multiclass.

Appearance: Slightly gaunt, Sariel is slightly short compared to her kin. Her ears are rather short for an elf, and her skin is the color of slate. Her dark red hair is cut in a moptop, in contrast with her dark green eyes. Sariel wears a dark green leather tunic, with black gloves and brown gloves a tatoo in the shape of a purple serpent on her right cheek, and she wears an amulet with the emerald embedded in it that contains a illusion spell that causes observers to perceive her as a eladrin.

Backround: Sariel didn't always worship Sehanine, but that all changed when the formorians attacked.

Sariel was a young soldier of a unknown house of a very small city, almost the size of a town, in the Feydark, a inexperienced recruit. She chose the wrong time to decide to join the house army however, as her first time in battle was a formorian raid. She had been assigned to the position of guard, and was whiling away the hours engaged in a card game with fellow guards while waiting for her shift. No one did really expect an attack, as their only enemies were rather far off, which of course meant that guard duty was a common assignment for new recruits. This made the city easy pickings for a group of slavers ordered by their formorian overlords to gain slaves. Oh, sure, the city did repel them, but not before the slaving party was able to capture the guards off-duty, which included Sariel.

For years, Sariel toiled in the deep mines of Harrowhame, under the lash of King Bronnor's subjects. She prayed to Sehanine every day, hoping for the ability to escape the cruel land of the Feydark.

Then, one day, Sehanine answered.

Sehanine granted Sariel a shard of her power, and told Sariel to escape and free others from this realm of utter darkness. Sariel used her newfound power to slay her masters and was able to help fellow miners who saw the act escape with her. Sariel led a group of gnomes and eladrin out of the Feydark, and one eladrin, feeling very grateful for the drow's kindness, worked with the gnomes in secret to give her a amulet that, to all except those the wearer wished otherwise, caused the wearer to appear light-skinned, wishing Sariel luck on achieving success and suggesting Sariel leave for the world, where she may find others not as prejudiced as the eladrin, or at least those not so adept at detecting illusions.

[mebecronck]

Here we go, Chapter 6. It's a short one. I have been a bit under the weather and work is going to be rough for the rest of this week. So, don't expect too much from me in the coming days.

Also, if you read the "Mystery of the Missing Sammich" tell me what you thought of the various characters in it. I might write a short on them, or just give a bio, if enough interest is expressed.

Chapter 6

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The Misadventure's of Jessica
in High School

Chapter 6
Dilemma

"So, what do we do?" The Chief is pacing back and forth next to the window. He peaks outside occasionally to see the rioters have calmed down to a peaceful protest. He looks to Garcia and Watson. His face shows an uncomfortable level of concern. "Do I need to call a press conference and let them know we have the second coming in interrogation room three?"

"She said she is not an angel." Watson is no more comfortable than anyone else in the room.

"Then what did she do?" Garcia adds his voice to the impromptu think tank. "You were bleeding out in the backseat. She touches you and now you are fine. The same thing happened with the I. A. Rep."

"Look ... I ... I don't know what is going on, but I believe her. The whole story she told me sounds crazy, but I don't see any reason she would be lying." Watson wonders if she should mention the voice of Jessica's supposed father just emitting from nowhere when they talked. Would telling them just add more stress or lead them to believe that she is an angel.

"The whole thing could still be a set-up. Some sort of scam, or trick, ... or something." Garcia starts to fumble with his words, "I seen magicians do some crazy things in Vegas."

"A magic trick that Watson and an Internal Affairs representative are part of?" The Chief erupts, "Did they also rope in Micheal? The drunken disorderly that we pull of the streets once a month for public indecency!"

"I ... just ...."

"For what purpose? To promote a Vegas magic act where a sixteen year old girl will heal the sick, make kids in wheel chairs walk, and then pulls a rabbit out of her hat!"

"It ... sounds silly the way you ..."

"Does this sound like a joke!" The Chief slams both fists on the table and stares directly into Garcia's eyes. "I want to know why she is here. If she isn't angel or the second coming or Buddha, then what is she and what does she want?"

"She wants to see the world." Watson answers, her voice unsteady.

"What?" The Chief looks at her incredulously.

"She lived on an island her whole life and has only seen the world through books. She left the island hoping to see the world." Watson feels foolish giving such a silly response. "At least that is what she told me."

"So ... this girl ... who has the power to heal just by touching ... just wants to go backpacking across the planet?" Garcia can't believe what he just said.

"That is a bit of an understatement, but, yeah." Watson shrugs slightly.

The Chief looks out the window and stares at the many faces lined up across the street. They are tired and can barely hold up their signs anymore, but they are also determined. They are certain that the station holds the next religious miracle.

"I know one thing." The Chief says in a calm voice. "I know that girl saved the lives of two people today. Two members of the L.A.P.D. that will go home and see their families. I am sure as hell not going to keep her locked up in a tiny room for that."

"So, what are we going to do? The whole station is surrounded and they will notice a girl with wings walking out of it." Garcia says feeling like he is stating the obvious.

"Perhaps we can take her up to the roof and she can fly away." Watson answers.

The Chief walks around his table and heads to the office door. He turns the doorknob to head out.

"Before I let her go I'm going to talk with her. Someone call Officer Winslow in the basement and tell him to send the girl's belongings to the interrogation room." The Chief leaves the room and closes the door behind him.

The moment the door closes Watson stands up and begins to make her way out. She plans to head to the basement herself and collect Jessica's belongings. This will give her one last opportunity to speak with her before she leaves.

A new short for you guys. I will be back to work on Jessica soon, and I will critique your stuff ... eventually ... promise.

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The Modern Bard

The Hostage

"You should have kept your mouth shut." Mister Jefe punches the man in the face, again. He is in charge of the drug branch of the East Syndicate. His real name is not known. Under any normal circumstances I would just slit his throat and be done with it, but he is not my mission.

I was hired to bring in the man tied to the chair. The guy bleeding all over his shirt and pooling on the ground around him is a snitch. Thanks the information he provided put several dealers in jail. The only reason he is still alive is because they don't know what else he leaked to the local police.

I don't know why my employers want him. Maybe to get the information in his head. Maybe to kill him before he rats them out. Maybe just to save him from Mister Jefe. What matters to me is that I get paid.

It was easy getting into the room. In an organization like this, every employee has his vice. The guy I'm impersonating liked to smoke. That got him killed. His body is now in a dumpster outside the back door. I used the magic in my clothes to change them into his, and used a few makeup tricks to make myself look exactly like him. The magic hides my tools and weapons. I picked up his gun to complete the disguise. I don't know how to use the damn thing, but I can hold it like I know what to do.

I'm not allowed in the room that is holding my target. I can look inside thanks to my cat, Lucky. With a simple arcane spell I can look through her eyes. She is perched on a high window on the southern wall. She can see the man tied to the chair. Mister Jefe is taking a break from beating him in the face. Five guards total in the room. Three spread out and two on either side of the hostage. Counting the guard standing next to me, guarding the room's only entrance and exit, that makes six guards total.

That is just in the immediate vicinity. I counted no less than thirty armed men on my way to this room. It looks like fighting my way out is out of the question. I could sneak my way in and out of here, but not with a wounded man over my shoulder.

Through Lucky's eyes I see an unoccupied room on the northern face of the room. It was probably an office or a big broom closet. Either way, it gives me an idea. I will need perfect timing to implement it.

*****

"Hey, man. Can I bum a cig from ya." I approach my partner guard and hold out a hand. My eyesight divided between the man in front of me and Lucky's eyes.

"You need to cut back, Little Bobby. That stuff will give you cancer." The guard looks down to his jacket pocket for a just a second. I take that moment to strike. With one swift motion I slip a dagger out of its sheath and run it across his throat. Crimson blood runs down the front of his chest and he collapses to the ground.

I open the door to the hostage's room. The large space is not well ventilated. This helps my smoke bomb. I throw it in and it releases a large cloud of smoke that conceals my entrance. The cloud hovers long enough for me to run in and grab my target. I leave a smart phone behind where I picked him up. I quickly take him into the office. I push him to the ground and cast an arcane locking spell on the door behind me. The spell has a twist of my own design. It locks the door in a way that only magic can open it, and makes the door tougher for people to break down.

I turn on the light and look at Mister Jefe. He is still coughing from the smoke. I throw a quick punch into his gut to knock the wind out of him. I thrust the palm of my hand into his nose, breaking it in the process. He falls over onto the ground, tears welling in his eyes. I thrust the heel of my boot into his crotch, for good measure.

I know I can't the snitch out of here on my own, so I am going to make them do it for me.

I walk over to the corner of the room and place a wireless camera on the wall. I attach a tablet to it and open up a computer program to send a video call to the phone outside. Lucky still being my eyes in the room can see that the smoke is starting to clear up. Once the call is sent, I walk over to Mister Jefe and start to pat him down. I take every weapon I find on him, two guns, three knives, an extra clip for each gun, and a pair of brass knuckles.

"Who the hell is this?" I hear a voice from the tablet. I have already allowed the magic of my clothes to change back to normal. I utitlity outfit with many pockets and straps, complete with a hood and mask to cover my face. I lift the hood over my head and pull the mask over my mouth before I turn to face the camera. All they can see is my blue eyes.

"Hello, gentlemen. It seems we both have something the other wants." I lift Mister Jefe up from the ground and show his bloodied face to the camera. They can see it thanks to the phone's high definition screen.

Lucky can see that they already concluded that I'm holding their boss in the office. A little smarter than the average thug in my opinion. They can kick and shoot at the door all day, it won't open.

"What we got that you want?" The thug shouts into the phone. Obviously not that much smarter.

"I want you to release the man in the chair. You will take him outside and call him a cab. There he can take it to the local hospital where he will be treated."

"How about we just kill him." Lucky can see him pointing a gun to the man's head.

"Two problems with that plan, home boy. First, your boss wants him alive for questioning. Second, if you kill him, then I have no reason to keep Mister Jefe alive." I walk to the other side of the room and lean up against the wall. I watch Mister Jefe roll across the ground. I might have done some serious damage to his balls with that kick.

"I think you bluffing. I think you don't got the cojones to kill."

"If you want my killing credentials you can find Little Bobby in the dumpster by the back door and his friend just outside the room. Now, here's the deal." I pause for a moment as I observe through Lucky's eyes; two men leave the room to check the kills. One returns immediately, obviously satisfied with the corpse.

"I am going to start counting to ten. Everytime I hit ten, I will cut off one of Mister Jefe's fingers. Starting with the index fingers, moving to the pinkies, and finishing with the thumbs. If my friend in the chair is not in a cab by the time I finish each hand, then I will slit Mister Jefe's throat." I pull out a dagger and look directly at Mister Jefe. He cannot see me through his teary eyes, but he feels my boot. I put some weight on it as I hold it to the floor. I kneel down and lay the blade of my dagger against his finger.

"I hope you are left handed Mister Jefe," I look at the camera, "or it is going to be very difficult for you to sign your employee's paychecks."

"Go to Hell, you cara de mierda." Mister Jefe spits at me as he holds back screams of pain.

I stare at the camera and say slowly, "One ..."

"You bitch. You ain't going to get nothing." The voice from the other side isn't even shaky.

"Two ... Three ..."

"You go ahead and count, man."

"Four ... Five ..."

"Keep counting man."

"Six ... Seven ..."

"You know what we going to do to you."

"Eight ... Nine ..."

"We going to cut you family man. Make them bleed."

"TEN!" I slice off his index finger. Mister Jefe can't help but scream. Lucky can see the men in the room suddenly freak out. I take out a lighter and hold Mister Jefe down. I take a bare flame and cauterize the wound. "This will make sure you don't bleed out, and make it difficult for doctors to reattach your finger."

I pick up the severed finger and walk it over to the camera to make sure they can see that I mean business. I lower the finger so they get a good look at my eyes. So they can see how serious I am.

"One ..."

"DO WHAT HE SAYS!" Mister Jefe's voice is still firm even under stress.

"You heard the boss, untie him." The voice from the other side of the tablet comes through clear. He is scared. I can see through Lucky's eyes that they are doing what I said.

"I will know if he gets in the cab safe or not. Try anything funny and the next finger comes off without counting." I look into Mister Jefe's eyes. The tears are gone and he is very angry.

"He can go. I will find him again, but you will not leave here alive." Mister Jefe sounds quite confident. I think it is funny that he believes he is in control of this situation.

*****

Lucky follows the hostage, peaking through the windows as he moves from room to room. When he exits the front door, she watches until they manage to call down a cab. The hostage is helped into the backseat. She watches as one of the men writes down the cab number in a notepad. Obviously, they intend to use that to start tracking him down later.

"He's in the cab, now let our boss go." The voice comes in through the tablet with some venom in it. Lucky is no longer watching. She knows it is time to get clear of the building.

I look at Mister Jefe from across the room. I drop his severed finger on the ground and stomp on it. I twist it beneath the heel of my boot like it was a lit cigarette. Mister Jefe just smiles.

"You are dead. You can't get out of here alive." Mister Jefe laughs. "YOU'RE DEAD!"

I dash straight for him and thrust my dagger point first into Mister Jefe's throat. I leave the blade in and grab his face with both hands. I look him eye to eye and stare. I stare until I see the life drain from his eyes. I take the dagger out and clean it on his shirt, and then collect my tablet and camera.

I set off a smoke bomb and then cast the spell to unlock the door. The men run in with guns drawn, but they are not trained to fight in complete darkness. One by one I kill them. I slit one's throat then I stab another through the heart. Soon the only one left is the one guarding the entrance. He stayed back, outside the room, in case I tried to sneak out. I throw my dagger and it finds his right eye. He falls over screaming in pain. I walk out and retrieve my dagger, and end his suffering.

*****

Thanks to that thug writing down the cab's number it was easy to find out which hospital the hostage was taken to. I disguised myself as a janitor to gain entry. A few bard tricks and charms to convince some attendees that I'm just here to clean and I find the room in no time.

I pull out my cell phone and call the preprogramed number. "I have him. As soon as I confirm the money transfer I will tell you where to find him."

I hang up the phone and open up an app to track my account balances. Tracing the phone is pointless, I had an expert techromancer cast some spells to make it impossible. After ten minutes the balance shows a new deposit. Exactly what was agreed upon. I send them a text message with the hospital's address and room number.

Another job done. What happens after this point is none of my concern.

"Hey." The man in the bed wakes up. "I recognize your voice. You are the guy who saved me."

"Yeah."

"Thank you."

I leave the room. What happens after this is not my problem ... right?

[Arkhosia]

Exellent stories!
Will critique later: I haven't been as active as usual due to a summer class I was taking this week, and I'm very tired due to it.

[mebecronck]

The inspiration continues.
Also, where is DrBwaa? He has got a lot of reading to catch up on.

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The Modern Bard

The Interrogation

"Stop staring at me. It is not my problem anymore." Lucky sits on the counter and stares into my eyes. Not breaking away even as I take my drink. Her distorted image through the bottle disturbs me and makes me pace myself more than I would want to. The barkeep keeps eyeing at me as he runs back and forth to attend to the patrons.

I have changed my clothes to look like common street attire. Blue jean pants, a tee-shirt, and a loose fitting jacket. Lucky doesn't need to change her appearance. A black cat blends in anywhere.

"Meow"

"It. Is. Not. My. Problem." I stare back and emphasize each word with a wave of my finger. "I got paid the job is done. I worked hard to build up a reliable reputation. You know how difficult that is in this line of business?"

"Meow"

"What does it matter what they do with him? We already know what was going to happen to him if I didn't take the job. He has a better chance now than before."

"Meow"

I lean away from the black cat and cross my arms. "That is not fair."

"Excuse me, sir, but you need to take your cat out of here." The bartender walks up to me and points directly at Lucky. He is young, probably can't even drink what he is serving, and is uncomfortable making the request. He was probably instructed by his boss to do so.

"The cat is my medical alert animal." I say straight faced. "She is specially trained to make sure I take my medication on time."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I have a hard time believing that."

I pull out some papers from my jacket. I had forged these earlier this year, and surprisingly this is my first time using them. "I have the paperwork in order if you need to see them. The cat doesn't leave my side, unless you want me to go into a seizure."

The kid doesn't even look at the papers. What a waste of a good forgery. He just nods his head and walks away. He is probably telling his boss about the paperwork. Only a matter of time now before he tells the bouncers to kick me out.

"Meow." Lucky positions herself between me and the bottle, and continues to stare me in the eyes.

"I was paid, my employer would be ..." A beep emits from my jacket pocket, interrupting my well thought out and concise counter argument. I pull out my cell phone and see a text message. It is an alert from my bank, telling me the last deposit bounced.

"It seems it is my problem now, Lucky." I pocket my cell phone and look at her yellow eyes. "Are you happy now?"

"Sir, my boss says papers or not you have to leave." The bartender returns with a hint of fear in his voice.

"Alright, then. I will leave, but I will speak to my attorney about this discrimination." I get up and leave a counterfeit twenty on the table. I walk out of the establishment with Lucky in tow. It would seem I have to go to the hospital and send someone to the morgue.

*****

I sit in the dark hospital room. Curtains drawn so that no one who enters can see me, but I can see the bed across the room. Lucky is on the terrace outside the window. She can see clearly whoever enters the room.

This is one of the most lackluster parts of my career. Waiting. There is no telling how long it will be before someone shows up. I could play my harmonica, but that might alert someone to my presence.

Luckily, I didn't have to wait long. A tall, burly man bursts into the room noisily. He stomps his way into the middle of the room and points a silenced pistol at the bed. He fires two rounds.

An obvious amateur if I have ever seen one. He continues to stare at the bed with a confused look on his face. He doesn't hear me approach him from behind. I would assume he is confused as to why the white sheets are turning red from blood. That body length pillow was rather expensive. I was hoping to keep it.

I move my mouth right next to his ear and whisper, "You are not very good at this."

He panics and turns to point the gun at me. With one hand I break his right wrist, with the other I cover his mouth to suppress his screams. He drops the gun to the ground and backs away from me. He clenches his teeth to hold back his own screaming.

"How cute. Trying to play tough." I flash him a smile and a wink.

He balls up his left hand and lunges at me with a clumsy left hook. I dodge underneath and thrust a dart into his armpit. The dart is coated in a mean little poison that will knock most people out in a minute. However, with his accelerated heart rate unconsciousness will set in sooner.

By the time he pulls out the dart he is already becoming drowsy. He staggers for a moment and falls to one knee. He looks at me with a slack jaw and glossy eyes. First he drops the dart, then he collapses to the ground.

I walk over to the closet and pull out one of the hospital patient gowns. I change my clothes to make it look like I'm a nurse. "All I need now is a wheelchair."

*****

I throw a bucket of ice cold water on the nude man chained to the wall. He shakes his head and spits out water he mistakenly breathed in. I grab the man by his hair and left his head to look him in the eye and say, "Good morning."

"Where am I? Who are you?"

I make sure to learn something from him with his every action. His deep voice expresses fear like someone untrained in interrogation. The way he fought in the hospital shows to me that he has no formal combat training. The way he handled the firearm shows me that he never fired one before.

He is not only a bad hitman, but a complete rookie.

I clasp my hands together in a brief applause and say, "Those are excellent questions. I will answer neither. The only thing that you need to know is that you are here to answer my questions, and then I will kill you."

His eyes open wide in terror to that last statement. He opens his mouth wide and starts shouting for help. I walk to the other side of the room and open the door. The light shines in letting him know that this door does lead directly outside. I walk back and unfold a metal chair and sit directly in front of him. I wait patiently until he realizes, no help is coming.

"Are you done?" I ask with a subtle smile. "Do you need some water? Don't want your throat sore. You still need to answer my questions."

"If I answer your questions, you will kill me." He says with a raspy voice. I pour a glass of water for him.

"I will kill you either way. You answer my questions. You don't. You lie. You tell the truth. You are dead either way. So take this as an opportunity to confess your sins."

I hold the glass up to his lips. He hesitates to drink from it, but eventually opens his mouth. I pour the water in at a slow pace.

The man looks me in the eye and says, "Can I ask one question first?"

"Sure, why not?"

"The guy I was supposed to kill ..."

"He is enjoying the best medical treatment at Uncle Sam's expense." The funny thing about doctors' signatures is that they are easy to forge. Doctors have to sign so many papers during the work day that most of them use a rubber stamp with the signature on it. I will keep sending false papers to alleviate any curiosity about his sudden transfer.

"Now it is my turn to ask questions." I say as I pull out his silenced pistol. "I will start with some observations. I am not much of a fan of using guns, but I am a fan of them. This one is way outside your pay grade, I'm sure. I must ask, why use a silencer with all the noise you made just entering the room?"

"The gun was just given to me. I don't know anything about a silencer. I just thought the gun looked weird."

"Who gave you the gun?"

"Some guy in a black suit. Gave me the gun and five thousand dollars. He told me if I killed some man I would get ten thousand more."

"Who is he? Describe him."

"I don't know him." He starts to describe him, pausing between each detail as he remembers it. "White dude, like really white. Pale. Pressed suit. Black hair, combed back. It was greasy, like he oiled it. Thin mustache. Glasses. Skinny. A little shorter than me."

Nice details, but won't make finding him that much easier. "Did he say anything else to you?"

"Nothing. Just handed me the stuff and told me what to do."

"How was he going to pay you after the job was done?"

"He said it would be deposited in my bank account."

"Did you give him your account number?"

"Uh ... No, I didn't."

Either they have the resources to uncover his account number without him giving it out, or they never intended to pay him.

"Well, you were a great help to me." And the truth serum I laced into his water was a greater help to me. "But now is the time for us to part ways."

"Do I get any last requests?" The man's voice quivers in fear.

"No, but you get some final advice." I walk up to him and pull my harmonica from my pocket. "Get out of the hitman business. You suck at it."

He laughs. "A little late for that advice. What are you going to do with the harmonica?"

"Play you a dirge."

*****

I unchain the man. He has no memory of what happened and is unconscious. A simple bardic spell I use to alter the memories of people I come in contact with. It takes a while to play the spell on the harmonica, but is worth it for the effect. Anonymity is one of my greatest strengths, but sometimes I need to speak to others. If I feel it is necessary I kill witnesses. This time, it wasn't necessary.

"Meow." Lucky's voice breaks through the silence like thunder.

"What? Are you going to complain now because I didn't kill him?" I leave him laying on a cot. I set out a cell phone, a gallon of water, and a protein bar. I also leave his clothes folded up at the end of the cot.

"Meow."

"Yes, the people who paid him will probably track him down and kill him. He is the one that chose to be a hitman without the talent."

"Meow."

"One more word like that, missy, and you are not getting any catnip tonight."

The cat remains quiet until we get home.

[Dr Bwaa]

Tell me about it! I have about half a post done, but I haven't been able to catch up to you guys! I also have a lot of updates to make to the first post. Don't worry! I haven't forgotten you guys and I'm really grateful that you all have been keeping things going in my absence!

[Arkhosia]

The Librarian returns!

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Yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyy yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy yyyyyy

@Mebecronk

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I have go hospital and send someone to the morgue.

Huh? Do you mean I have togo to the hospital?

[mebecronck]

@Arkhosia
More than the Librarian, he is also the best editor. I always look forward to his critiques. He must be an English Lit Major or something.

Also, I corrected the errors you pointed out. What do you think of the story so far. I intended it to be a one shot, but it looks like it is going to turn into a series.

[Arkhosia]

Love the story so far!

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Wombat's Review of:

You Deserve to Know by PaperMustache

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It was a beautiful day outside. At least I figured it was based on how desperately my best friend wanted me to leave the library.

"Sam, you know I can't climb like you can. Can't you go without me?" I asked without taking my eyes off the book I was reading.

I like how you’ve already given me three bits of information about the companion of the speaker: the companion is their best friend, is named Sam, and is a good climber. We find these things out before anything about the narrator (save an apparent appreciation of books). This leads me to believe this relationship will be a plot point at some point during this story, or Sam him/herself will be. Let’s see what happens.

"We don't have to climb if you don't want. We can just go for a walk. Prank the new clerics at the temple. Do SOMETHING other than sit in this dusty library all day and read," she cocked her head to the side to read the cover of my book, "Masters and Collins Arcane Compendium Volume 3? Myaaaa! You have that book memorized!"

Ah! She. I have a best friend named Sam as well. She just got married! That’s aside from the point. What action is she taking when she goes: “Myaaaa!” Is that sticking her tongue out in disgust? Teasing? Putting an action along with it might drive the point home. Oh! Further review shows me that it is the name of the narrator. Might not want to stretch that out, and instead state it plain and describe how she’s saying it better. The first introduction of a name shouldn’t be distorted, to avoid the confusion I had.

"I had it memorized the first time I read it." I muttered, flipping the page. In reality I hadn't been paying attention to what I was reading. I had been waiting for my dad to get home. He hadn't been around at all lately and I missed him.

Hmmm, something is itching at me. Perhaps it’s the first person view, as I’m not as used to reading narratives written as such…*peers* I think it’s hard for me because when I read this section I’m reminded that it’s in the first person instead of person, and some of that may be my being used to reading third, but it also might be I feel like it’s going back and forth a little. I guess it might be that there’s a lot of dialogue here, and most of it in a she said, with no annotations to Mya’s point of view on the delivery. Even something as simple as “I watched as she cocked her head.” I just feel things are a little sparse on how the narrator perceives things for a first person narrative. What you have is good, it just could be even better if I felt I was looking through Mya’s eyes a little more, and continue that through the snippet. What are her thoughts? If we’re seeing this through Mya’s eyes, let us get more inside her. I’ve actually edited out some of my – I’d like to know Mya’s thoughts here – lines throughout this snippet, and just will mention it here.

Also, grammatical: …first time I read it,” I muttered, flipping the page. Also in this sentence, you could describe how the page was unnoticed or uncaringly, since in the next sentence you describe how the page Mya was just looking at didn’t matter.

"You're seriously going to re-read your encyclopedias instead of going outside with your best friend?"

I sighed, closing the book, "fine."

Correction: I sighed, closing the book. “Fine.”

Where does the book go after that? Does she continue to hold it or put it down?

She grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the comfort of my chair, "You're the best!"

I allowed her to drag me to the door. Perhaps spending an afternoon with my friend would be preferable to sitting in the library all day waiting for my dad to show up.

"Oh, hi Mr.Collins." Sam chirped, stopping short.

My dad was standing in the doorway, blocking our passage. He had on the black half-mask he wore to hide his identity at work, and his grey robes were more disheveled than usual. I could see his greasy red hair poking out from under his hood. He must have just come home from work.

Guess all that waiting paid off after all! Though, how did Sam know him if his identity was supposed to be hidden behind the mask?

"Dad!" I smiled, "I've been waiting up for you all day."

He gave me a weary smile, and I realized that something was wrong. Perhaps I shouldn't be bothering him.

"Uh, Sam and I were just gonna go hang out at the temple." I grinned nervously.

"Oh," he looked relieved, "well, go ahead and have fun." He stepped aside. Sam tightened her grip on my arm and sprang for the door.

"Wait." My dad called suddenly. Sam acted like she didn't hear him.

The “go have fun”, followed by “Wait” immediately after comes out strange. What is Mya’s reaction to this? Also, Sam’s actions should be a separate paragraph from her father’s dialogue, if my memory on dialogue serves me correct… If he’s called them, then they are a distance away. How far away, where does the door go? Outide? To another room?

"Sammie, my dad's talking to us!" I objected, pulling back. Sam looked worried, but I couldn't understand why.

"Mya! I need to talk to you." My dad called. Sam shivered.

"You okay, Sam?" I asked.

Besides asking how she’s doing, what are Mya’s thoughts on this?

"Uh huh..." She lied.

And how does Mya know Sam is lying? Instead of “she lied”, perhaps you could say – I could tell she was lying.

"Look, I'll meet you at the temple later, okay?" I assured her, extricating my arm from her grasp.

"Okay..." She sounded unsure. I couldn't puzzle out why she seemed so frightened all of a sudden. Before I could ask, she bolted.

This leaves me curious and interested what’s going to happen next. It seems like something supernatural is afoot. Where did Sam bolt to?

I returned to the library to find my dad in his chair. He had taken off his mask. His head was buried in his hands.

His chair? Do they own the library? Or is it his customary chair? How big is the library? It hasn’t gotten much description, aside that there are chairs, apparently a single entrance/exit , and of course, books. I’ve gleamed that this might be a private library to Mya’s house, base on this information, but you might want to detail that a bit better somewhere.

"Dad?"

What is Mya thinking right now? If my dad looked like that, my mind would be racing!

"Mya." He smiled weakly, looking up at me, "sit, I have something I need to discuss with you."

"Is it about the brotherhood?" I asked hopefully.

"No. It's about me."

"Is it about why you haven't been around lately?"

"Yes."

"And why you look so worn out?"

"Mya..."

"Because you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I understand why you have to keep secrets. I'm not a kid anymore."

"Mya will you just listen to me?!" He growled suddenly. I had never seen him angry before. I shut my mouth, a little scared.

This back and forth conversation is good. Nice and quick, building up momentum.

"I'm sorry." He looked pained, "I shouldn't have yelled. This is just very important."

I bit my lip, not wanting to annoy him again, and nodded.

Perhaps interrupt might suffice better than annoy?

He opened his mouth to say something, but faltered. "There's no easy way to say this, and I don't know how to make you understand. But you have a right to know. I...I'm mad, Mya."

"Is it something I did?" I asked, not understanding.

"God's no, Mya. Not angry, mad. I'm telling you I'm insane." He insisted.

"Like psychologically? Like you have a mental disorder? Because academically speaking-" he cut me off.

Haha, nice dialogue.

"I enjoy killing things. I can't stop myself from wanting to tear the throats out of people I don't even know. My judgement is impaired for months at a time. My father and brother were both similarly afflicted, but they didn't understand how to fight it and it led to their deaths."

Judgement is “judgment”.

"You're...joking right?" I chuckled nervously.

"No. You're almost an adult now. You deserve to know. I've been fighting it for so long that the madness doesn't overtake me for years at a time. When it does, I sate it on the blood of monsters and animals and I find myself back to normal." He stared at me, deadly serious.

Nice slip in of the title. I’m wondering if this is some kind of vampirism, werewolf, or something else entirely. Hopefully, I’ll find out!

I squirmed under his gaze. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because it is a curse on our family. You didn't need to know before because it skips women. My sister was unaffected, you and Inara never manifested. However, now you are almost an adult yourself. If you ever want children of your own, it's something you should take into account."

"I-I'm seventeen. I'm not exactly getting married."

He chuckled, "no. I suppose you're not. Perhaps I just didn't want to hide it from you anymore. You're growing up so fast and I didn't want you to have time to figure it out on your own. I want you to look at me and see the father who loves you, but I also don't want to lie to you."

"I love you too, Dad."

"You don't believe me, do you?" He muttered.

"That you love me? Of course. That you're a murderer? I'm having trouble internalizing that, yeah."

"Well," he smiled wearily, "it's about that time. I can prove it to you if you want, or you can just take my word for it for once."

I chuckled to lighten the mood, "when have I ever?"

He sighed and offered his hand, "then lets get this over with."

Capitalize the “W” in when, and the “T” in then. This father really is mad! They both are! He just told her he can’t control himself, and becomes a killing machine, and she wants him to prove it? And he’s okay with that?!

I took his arm and we teleported somewhere near the Red Mountains. A few feet away were the beginnings of a small village milling with red-scaled kobolds.

Aptly named mountains. And now my suspicion is more than likely confirmed – he cause Sam to feel the fear, with his magical ability. Milling with red-scaled kobolds? What do you mean?

"Stay back." My father's voice was strange and low as I had never heard it before. He let go of my arm and stepped in front of me as a group of the creatures broke off from the rest to inspect us.

"They're...just Kobolds." I chuckled nervously.

You’ve used “chuckled nervously” not too long ago. Perhaps a different way of describing might suffice?

My father snarled in response. A low, feral growl from the boring man who used to tuck me in at night. I took a reflexive step backwards out of shock before he threw himself at the unsuspecting kobolds.

The sentence about the feral growl – you might want to add that Mya could never have imagined this growl coming from the “boring man”. Also, to further drive it home, perhaps mention ”singing to sleep” instead of “tucking in at night”, since both would be voice related, further alienating the sound from her father.

He pulled a sword from his belt and lashed out at one of the kobolds before it could react. It fell in two pieces, twitching on the ground. He whirled around to smash another's face in with his elbow and I could see his eyes were wild with glee. My stomach turned as the fallen kobold's fellows turned on him while he was distracted. Whatever state he was in, it was impairing his judgement. My father was a wizard, not a soldier. He didn't know how to use a sword and it was embarrassingly apparent. I almost called for him to watch out before both of his enemy's attacks were rendered ineffective against his Mage armor.

Judgment. Those poor kobolds. Seems he used the sword effectively splitting that kobold in half just before she said that. Perhaps, you could mention how he failed tactically instead of comment on his swordsmanship?

He chuckled darkly as they caught his attention, taunting them in their own language. Were they their tribes primary defenders? Did the women and children look to them for protection? What would become of those innocents once he got past them? The stupid little men took the bait all too willingly. A few seconds saw them join their comrade on the ground, though they still gasped for breath.

Correction: Tribe’s. This tangent of thinking seems a strange first thought on the whole ordeal. I’m curious now what Mya’s relationship with her father was like before now. She’s described him as boring, but he wears a mask at work, so she knows he has secrets. Now she worries about the Kobolds without concern for her father’s transformation? Just interesting...I wonder what “alignment” Mya is.

I watched my father rage against the kobolds for minutes that felt like hours. They came at him in waves, but they were no match for a wizard of his skill. I realized the sword was merely an amusement. Something to provide the visceral feeling of torn flesh and the sight of dripping blood from an enemy that could not hope to defend itself. He put their houses to the flame. He used enchantment magics to turn the women against the men who tried to defend them. When a few tried to flee, he let them think they had escaped before using a spell to telekinetically drag them back for more. All the while the air was alive with his laughter, shrill and cruel. It was not the reserved chuckle of the man I knew. It was the wailing of a mad man harmonizing with the terrified screams of his victims.

And yet I did not shudder. I followed at a safe distance and watched as he had wanted me to. The shock wore off quickly. I was simply amazed at the change, at how sorely I had misjudged this man. I loved him. I was closer to him than I was to anyone, even Sam. How had I not known?

Dude, those descriptions of how he wrecks the village. That’s awesome/terrible. His blood lust is obviously not just satiated by a few kills! And Mya’s reaction is a bit of a shock, too. Most people would look at him with a new light, as if he were a monster, as he says he is. She has a new appreciation for him!

A glint of steel caught my eye from the bushes. I followed it to a kobold, separate from the rest. Bigger, with a feathered headpiece denoting him as a shaman of the tribe. He was rubbing a thick, green liquid into his blade. Poison.

Instead of saying – “Bigger”, say - “He was bigger”, so as to not make it a fragment.

I panicked. If my dad was poisoned, I might not be able to get him to a cleric in time. I muttered the words to a spell that would let me whisper in the thing's ear from where I was standing several yards away.

"You should just run away! While you still can. Just get out of here." I pleaded.

The thing whirled around, looking for me. When I wasn't behind him, he searched wildly for whoever had seen his position. His eyes fell on me at last. His look was accusing.

"Please." I whispered again.

Ah, so she can do magic as well! Cool.

The thing snarled at me, turned around and went to charge my dad. His blade gleamed with the green liquid in the sunlight. My dad was distracted, hunched over one of the dying ones and totally vulnerable.

My heart was pounding in fear and panic, and my hands were shaking before I realized I was casting a spell. If I could daze the kobold for just a few seconds, maybe Dad would be okay. The spell didn't always work for me, but luckily this time it did. The kobold stopped in his tracks inches away from my father's throat.

It had a moment to blink in confusion before my father noticed it, and a moment more before he brought his bloody blade down on it. He sliced the thing's head off cleanly with a chuckle and went back to whatever he was doing with the other kobold. It lay still on the ground, soaking in it's own blood. It's face was frozen in anger. The blade still gleamed with poison. Seconds ago it had been a threat. Now it was a corpse, an inanimate object. I did that. My dad swung the sword in some sort of addled rage, but I killed it by making it unable to fight back.

It made me feel queasy to think about it, but when my father stood up and gave me a weary smile, I knew I had done the right thing.

Nice way of justifying her skewed morality – her dad is good in her eyes, and so his approval means her actions are right.

"And so the monster is kept in check another day." He muttered, looking miserable.

Now that the danger had passed, the adrenaline caught up to me. Fear and panic washed over me as I thought about what I had seen. My dad, the monster, the kobold, the poison. I started hyperventilating.

Oooooor she was just in shock? Haha.

"Mya..." He looked down at the shaman and the poisoned blade, "...gods, Mya, you saved my life."

I answered him by losing my lunch all over myself and the bloodstained ground in front of me.

"Mya!" He rushed over and steadied me as the adrenaline wore off, leaving me weak kneed. He cast a spell to wash the vomit from my robes even as his own were red with blood. He looked miserable and guilty. I collapsed into his arms. Hopefully that was reassuring. He held me for a moment, telling me it was okay to be scared and that he was sorry. I could barely hear him, so distracted by nausea and shock. Over his shoulder, my eyes fell on the kobold whose death had been my doing.

When my father finally released me to clean off his robes, I staggered over to it. Blood was pooling from its decapitated head, but otherwise it looked just as it had in life. I realized I had never seen a corpse before. Purely from an academic standpoint, this scene was fascinating. The bodies would decay over time, the flesh and scales would be consumed an give sustenance to mold and fungus. That is if animals did not drag them away first, which was more likely. They would be ripped apart by mountain cats, or wolves. That seemed a pity for the mold and fungus.

Correction: an = and. Finally getting to see her book smart attitude we were implied earlier in the snippet.

I reached out with one foot to nudge the corpse's tail out of morbid curiosity. It jerked to life, shocking me. I yelped and jumped back. It caught my father's attention.

"Gods, Mya, don't prod the thing!" His voice was stern.

I started babbling like a fool. "Oh my gods I knew that the peripheral nervous system of reptilian humanoid species remained sensitive to stimuli up until approximately two hours after it's death, but I didn't expect it to actually move!"

"I know, kid. It's okay, lets get you home." He put an arm around me and teleported back to the library. He let go of me immediately and took a step back to give me space. He stared at me desperately, like an interesting bird who was about to fly away. I tried to think of something to say, but to do that I would have to understand what I actually felt. My hands were shaking. I was definitely tense. I met his eyes and I could tell he was scared. He was bracing himself, expecting me to hate him.

Correction: Lets should be Let’s. I like the interesting bird analogy. I want to see more of this turmoil distributed a little more naturally. While we are getting some thoughts from Mya, it feels as its still more “action thoughts” than thoughts of inner turmoil.

"I'm not scared of you." I said firmly. That was the truth at least. Whatever I was it wasn't scared. Was I tense? Nervous? Excited? Disgusted? None of them? All of them?

"Are you sure? I couldn't fault you if you were." He answered miserably.

"Yes. I am sure. I just need..." What did I need? What would make this okay? "I need to move." I said finally.

He raised an eyebrow. Nervous energy was welling up inside of me. I started tapping my foot.

"I need to move. I need to do something. I need...I need to hit something." I decided aloud.

"Whatever you need. Just know that I love you, and I'm sorry."

She’s taking this whole thing better than he is. In fact, despite what he said about skipping women…she seems a little…motivated after the incident…

I smiled, but it turned into a nervous chuckle, "I love you too, Dad. I'm just going to go see Inara."

"Oh. Well, give your sister my love." The normalcy of his voice was almost humorous. Minutes ago he had been shrieking with mad laughter. Now he sounded like a father again.

Wouldn’t be nervous about her telling her sister? Does her sister already know? If this was a secret, would she ask her father about Inara’s knowledge in the matter? Why is she going to her sister? All of these things I want to know! Haha.

I turned to leave quickly to escape the uncanniness of it all, calling over my shoulder, "right, I'll be back later."

Right should be capitalized. Over all, I enjoyed this snippet. I just feel like the character I got the least information about was Mya, which shouldn’t be the case. Try looking through your snippet for opportunities to tell us how she gets from point a to point b, so we don’t feel alienated. I’m very interested to see what happens next, and my curiosity is certainly peaked. I’ll certainly get to reviewing “Need to Move” next. I’d also describe your settings with a bit more detail. It helps the reader see what’s going on, and how it is going on. The neat thing about first person is that you can have her glance at certain things that don’t interest her, and give better descriptions of things that do. Relate these settings to Mya. These things will strengthen this great start!

[PaperMustache]

@Wombat Thank you immensely for the critique. I have not forgotten about your work. I've just been terribly unmotivated recently. Promise I'll get back to critiquing soon. Probably after I can actually get my freaking brain around my next snippet. It's actually driving me crazy because it's going to be from Sam's perspective in order to actually give an outside opinion on Mya. That or a prequel snippet overview from Andrew's perspective. I mean to have the narrator jump around on this one which is why Mya is currently faceless. Which might be a terrible idea. I also want to make some changes to my second snippet to fix the atrocity with is the way it ends. As it is it's far too happy. Plus I need to make revisions to my first snippet obviously! So I don't know where to start. It's been like this for a month.

Although a spot of good news, since the AU has become more fleshed out in my head than original Kepesk's story, I have a title for Mya's story. At least a temporary one. It's called "The Curse."

[Dr Bwaa]

I have been overjoyed lately with all the activity around here. Welcome to Arkhosia, as well!

@flattery:
Aww. They love me; they really love me! Alas, writing is only a passion, not my livelihood. In real life I'm just a lowly codemonkey, sitting in a cube all day and trying to write/critique on lunchbreaks and weekends. But I am truly honored that any of you would think I'm actually trained in literature, beyond a few (admittedly wonderful) undergrad classes.

I just wish I had a snippet to give back to you guys in return for all the compliments. I've got one that I hope to finish within the next couple weeks, but until then, some long-overdue comments on all the stuff you guys have written recently. By the way, I'm not planning to put the character bios in the first post, but if you guys would rather I do, I'll go back and add them. I will throw out a couple comments on them though, because character development is always fun to watch.

Let me know if I've screwed up the formatting or made any blatant typos anywhere; this is pretty long and I'm sure I missed things.


@PaperMustache

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Misc Responses

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DrBwaa always does such an excellent job and I feel like my comments are redundant, stupid, and entirely unwanted.

Aw; you flatter me. For what it's worth though, I always read your comments; whether they're on something I wrote or someone else's work, and I think you have some pretty insightful things to say.

Need to Move

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Need to Move

The title is particularly fitting, I think. There are basically three major things that happen in the snippet: sparring to let off rage, making a major life choice (joining the Brotherhood), and deciding to leave home. In order, that's an immediate physical Need to Move, a Need to Move on in her "career", and a Need to Move in the sense that Mya actually uses the phrase, to get out of her hometown. Nothing really to say here; I just thought it was a particularly good fit thematically.

"Hi, Dad." I muttered reflexively as I always did when I thought he might be watching. Then I shivered, remembering what I was running from.

This passage does a really good job of combining the innocence of childhood with the realities of Mya's present. Nice.

Didn't she know I needed her?!

This seems a little overwrought, though. Maybe not needed.

Her long brown hair hang in greasy tangles

*hung

It usually took her a minute to focus and find the right one.

This speaks worlds. Great line.

A wide space with a floor length mirror to cover the back wall.

Damn, that must have been expensive.

on it's opposite a wide array of weaponry.

*its

I spread my legs comically too far, feeling my muscles protest.

"There. Just like that." She encouraged. She had to be joking.

I am smiling like crazy over here. This whole scene is not only believable, but also super sweet.

I caught a twinge if jealousy

*of

Wherever you go, I'm going to.

*too

Man, almost nothing to complain about at all besides a couple typos! Still enjoying this AU

Character Bio: Mya Collins

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She has worn grey robes to match her father since she was five years old, and is rarely seen in anything else no matter the occasion.

Aw. Though I did read "worn grey robes" as a single noun the first time through the sentence.

deeply ashamed of being a sorcerer, believing wizardry to be the superior art.

I was wondering about this. It's a very cool touch.

Considers herself a hobby linguist

She was one of the two first people to translate an entire language lost to time, and she keeps journals in that language, but she only does linguistics as a hobby? Jeez.

Nicknames Mya and Inara Kepesk and Siska. The storm and the sun, respectively.

Aha....

Story Ideas:

Ohgodyes.

@mebecronck

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Misc Responses

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I read other peoples stories, too. I don't critique them because I don't feel like I have any right to do so.

For my money, I want to hear what everyone has to say on everything I write, good or bad. My writing isn't perfect or even adequate as far as I'm concerned, and I truly value every scrap of input I can get my hands on.

Character Bio: Jessica

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She is five feet four inches tall, ninety pounds, and her wingspan is almost eleven feet.

Holy crap! The not-wings part of her body must be twig-like!

she is capable of reaching one hundred and twenty miles per hour in flight.

Jessica's Misadventures in High School

I'm always game for anything that could be described as "misadventures"

A Dramatic Telling of My Old Writing Process

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First of all, I am all about this already, haha. Great premise.

At no point does pencil meet paper, nor fingers meet the keyboard.

Dangerous! I have an hour commute to and from work, so I find myself in this situation more often than I'd like, though not precisely by choice.

The backspace key serves some purpose; one day I will figure it out.

Heheh.

I then click the submit button ... and begin to worry.

Welcome to writing for an audience. It's not just you; trust me.

I draw lines from one side of the page to another to illustrate where certain events would fall into place.

I am so glad I'm not the only person who does this. Ever find yourself taping pages together in complex geometries so you can draw enough arrows and still have space for actual words?

Then I scrape the whole thing.

Anything longer, and they arrive before completion.

This is one of the reasons I like the snippet format: when I hit this point (and I usually do), I just copy and paste the whole thing into a post, hit Submit, and run away before I can do anything else about it. Then I come back later, read it, denounce it as drivel, and edit it to within an inch of its life--but the post remains up in one form or another, so I can tell myself I haven't lost anything, even if I'm still not happy with the result.

So I throw away my work, delete the saved files

Well, I truly hope your new writing process skips this step. And thank you for sharing that with us!

JMHS: Chapter 1

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She feels like she can't fly any further. She needs a place to rest and use her healing power to refresh her muscles. Healing while in flight is too dangerous. The concentration needed to heal would take away from her focus on staying aloft.

This is a lot of "telling" rather than "showing", which is probably the most widespread problem among all writers, myself included. It's partially because you've chosen a third-person omniscient perspective and a present-tense narration, but it's also the way you're doing this early exposition. "She feels like she can't fly any further" is all well and good, but there's a lot of distance created between Jessica and the reader, and I have no reason to trust the narrator. In other words, this doesn't make a strong emotional impression on me, because I'm just being "told" what Jessica is thinking and feeling. In my experience as a human, I've never known what someone else's feelings feel like, so it's hard to relate.

However, you can use your narrator to give me context clues that I can relate to instead. Think of your narration like a screenplay for a movie that I'm going to watch. Instead of telling me "She feels like she can't fly any further", tell me that her face is screwed up in concentration; she's sweating; her wingstrokes are getting weaker; she loses concentration for a moment and "slips"--things that I could see if I were watching this as a movie. Then I can draw my own conclusion that she's exhausted and needs to land and rest. If you do this in all your writing, I think you'll be able to hear a big difference when you go back and read it later. I'm going to use "SDT" for "show, don't tell" throughout all my critiques wherever I see any more big examples of this, just to point them out for you.

Another hour later and, finally, Jessica sees something other than water.

There's no need for the "and" here. Personally I think the "finally" would be better suited either at the beginning of the sentence or right after "Jessica", but now I'm just being picky.

As she flies in she could tell that it is an island.

First, you slip into past tense here with "could". However, this is another SDT moment anyway, so you could rephrase it: tell us what she sees [camera pans to show us what she's looking at]. What is it that shows that it's an island? Tell me that, and let me assume that Jessica draws the same conclusion.

an island none the less.

*nonetheless is usually written as one word.

'Land! I almost can't believe it.'

I noticed this before as well: by convention, most people are used to seeing italics for thoughts, mainly because single-quotes are normally reserved for quotes-within-quotes. There's no strict rule that I know of; just something to think about.

Seeing land brings her renewed vigor.

SDT

like an arrow just let loose from the bow.

This is (as PM said) nice. Since you're going for a feeling of swiftness, I'd probably rephrase the end to be a little smoother: "an arrow just loosed from the bow".

She locates a nice flat spot to land and collapses to the ground.

I might have her locate the nice, flat spot... and then crash into the ground in a heap [because she's too tired to land properly of course].

She says laying face down, moving her hands across the dirt as if trying to hug it.

Okay first, this is a great image. This is exactly what I'm talking about when I mention SDT; we get a perfect image and can draw very clear conclusions from it, without the narrator saying "she was happy to be on land". Second, you need a comma after "says".

She would raise her wings to increase the shade, but they are too sore to move. That burst of adrenaline has worn off and now she just feels the crash of exhaustion.

SDT

feeling very silly in hindsight.

SDT (you can probably just eliminate this; the chuckle gets it across just fine).

"Looks like the island hugged me back," Jessica laughs to herself. "I appreciate the show of affection Mr. Island, but I want to make a good impression when I make it to the mainland."

Aww.

The bag itself contains a pocket dimension about the size of a small bedroom. The only limit on what it can hold is what you can fit into the opening. It now holds many things that were given to her by friends to help her journey.

Holy exposition, Batman! First, take out the "you" stuff; that has no place in a third-person narrative. Second, this whole paragraph, as well as the next several where you go into a semi-flashback, is a massive SDT episode. Either go into a full flashback like you do near the end ("There is no way I'm selling this ring, dad!"), or else just show us what's in the bag by pulling it out or feeling it or whatever. Let me draw my own conclusions about the bag's magic properties when she pulls out a whole new outfit, books, food, maps, jewels, etc.

His skin tanned dark and eyes covered by tinted glasses and shaded by a brimmed hat.

There's no verb in this sentence!

"Good day to you, sir." Jessica bows politely as he emerges, a genuine smile beams from her face.

"What are you doing here, and how did you get here?" The man says with authority, although briefly taken aback by here physical appearance.

I agree with PM here: there is some great potential to make this encounter pretty funny with her trying to be polite and spreading her wings or whatever, and therefore terrifying the poor guy. If you don't want to go that direction, it would probably at least help to make it obvious that the guy is in denial or misunderstands the situation or something. As it reads now, it seems like he's kind of surprised to see a half-deva, but not surprised that such things exist.

She then falls backwards off the cliff face. Sam watches this with his mouth ajar in terror. His terror turned to surprise when he sees her rise back up and fly away.

This is a great moment. I'd probably change "ajar" ("not completely closed") to "agape" ("[hanging] wide open"). I'd also use a stronger work than "surprise" here; maybe "shock".

"I swear to God, I will never drink again." For some reason, the vow has more impact this time.

Aaaand a great ending. Very nice. This is a strong start to a longer work; I'm so glad you're continuing it!

Chapter 2

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'I must calm myself. This is my first impression, and I must present myself calmly. Politely.'

Disaster in 5... 4... 3...

To her, though, it looks like everyone is in their underwear.

SDT! You actually do have some good "show" here, but the effect is ruined by doing the "tell" first!

"YOU ARE ALL NAKED!" Jessica interrupts.

Oh my God yes. See, this moment is why you don't need to say explicitly that she thinks everyone is in their underwear: you give us this amazing line instead a couple paragraphs later.

She starts running forward. She is not thinking. She just wants to get away. Everytime she bumps into someone else she becomes more panicked.

What a great image.

This is the sound of a police siren and the sound of its breaks. She just ran into a busy street and the police cruiser almost ran her over.

SDT! The effect is much stronger if you can communicate the squealing tires and blaring sirens and panicked shouts with the reader's "eyes closed", so to speak. Have confidence in your descriptions!

Officer Watson

Am I supposed to know who Officer Watson is? Also, since she's female, I should know that before I know her name, since "Watson" is a male name and gives a male impression even as a surname.

the look of distress upon the young girls face.

*girl's

Watson concern for her makes her disregard the wings.

*Watson's

Also, this sentence is a serious SDT: if she disregards the wings, that will be very obvious in the upcoming interaction.

Officer Garcia

Again, who?

She has a distinctive scar over her right eyebrow.

What's distinctive about it? If it's distinctive; it should be easy to describe.

he is happy for a excuse to try out his new taser. Especially on a pervert. As he walks towards the beach he unbuttons the pouch for the taser.

SDT: again, you tell us first and then show something that would have sufficed by itself. Have him grouch off, then smile as he seems to remember something and reaches for his taser. Again, have confidence in your writing! If you get to the point where I don't understand what's happening, I'll tell you.

Watson couldn't help but be surprised, again, by the natural movement of the girl's wings. Jessica didn't notice her reaction. Her head is lowered and she is looking at the ground.

SDT

"I'm so sorry." Jessica says sheepishly. "I'm making a poor first impression."

Voices emerge from the mob, "What are they doing?" "They are arresting the angel." "We are sorry we offended you, angel." "The police want to throw the angel in jail!" "Let the angel go." The mob slowly grows more and more angry.

This is great, except the last sentence is a big SDT. Take it out, and let the voices of the mob speak for themselves.

"It's okay, just stay in the ..." Watson is cut off short when a brick hits her in the head.

Watson suddenly feels new life flow through her. She was feeling cold and drained, but now she feels relaxed. She feels stronger than she felt in years with renewed energy.

SDT!

"I wanted to make sure you are okay." Jessica says, feeling that she might have over done it.

*overdone is usually a single word

"My name is Jessica. I'm sorry to cause you so much trouble."

I'm really enjoying where you're taking this. There's a lot of potential in this story and I'm having to restrain myself from going on ahead to your next chapter before I do Kymme's next critique Lesson for the day remains the same: show, don't tell! You seem to be tempted to explain what you mean by things: don't! Your descriptions are just great; let us read them for ourselves!

Chapter 3

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Watson barely had enough time to wash the blood from her hair and put on a clean shirt before the mob of people surrounded the precinct.

This is in past tense.

On all sides, men and women, shouting, waving signs, all demanding demanding the release of the angel.

There's no main verb in this sentence! The repeated one doesn't count

The only thing stopping them from storming the precinct is the S.W.A.T. team armed with riot shields and batons.

Wow; they got here fast!

No sooner does an operator hang up the phone, it rings again.

You're missing a "than" after the comma.

Michael Gabriel

Really?

A drunkard and doom-sayer who favors shouting prophecies of the end of times at the hands of the Angel of Death.

Oh, well okay then! You're doing a good job describing the chaos in the station.

dumbsters

*dumpsters, although I need to find an excuse to use your version somehow now. Also, your whole description of MG is great. All show; no tell. Keep it up.

He hasn't heard the news, yet.

Aaaaand it's gone. This whole paragraph: SDT. Just show us the extra precautions being taken.

Like most cops she doesn't like Internal Affairs

Comma after "cops".

This annoyed Watson.

SDT! Hell, you barely need anything; I'm annoyed with him by the time we get here!

her first police precinct

Now I want a kids' toy set: My First Police Precinct! It will be pink, but all the officers are ALL BUSINESS.

The door opens, and the same man that here in looks in.

There's something wrong with this sentence. I'm not positive what exactly you were going for, but this isn't it.

As she says this she moves her wings close to her body. A habit she got into when she was younger, and would frequently knock over candles and bottles with her wings when she bowed.

This is a little stilted, and the second sentence isn't actually a sentence. You could combine these two into one cohesive thought, I think.

He is rarely soft spoken, and when he speaks, his tone has always commanded respect.

This is a kind of weird thing to say; I don't know what to make of it. Does he speak rarely? Does he usually yell? Is he soft-spoken? I'd change this around to just say what he is, rather than what he isn't.

"Garcia and I did bring Jessica her, sir."

*here

She first noticed this when she saw her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

How has no one else noticed? I thought her facial scar was "distinctive"?

"Her wings are real. The ... power ... she used is real. She is real. If she is an angel or not, I don't know, but she is real."

You do a good job here "struggling" for a description, but still coming up with a very adequate one. Nice.

Think of the consequences of having two L.A.P.D. officers filing an official incident report that stat: Angels are real. Do you understand?"

*state. Also, hahahahahahaha

The Chief's leer could kill if it was any fiercer.

I'd make this a glare or something else. Leering is typically associated with lecherous intent.

Fun snippet as usual; you've been doing a great job with this story so far. Except this one didn't have enough Jessica in it, so I want more now plzkthx!

Character Bio: Jack

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Note: Devas technically have no beginning or end. However, Jack was first granted free-will six billion years ago. He spent much of that time fighting in Hell, where time has little meaning. He has lived on Earth for the past four thousand years.

I lol'd.

Pure energy seeps from his eyes at all times.

What does that look like?

killing The Devil over and over

I still think this whole thing was a super cool concept.

Note: He has many more powers beyond this, but this is what is most often used. He Note: He has many more powers beyond this, but this is what is most often used.

Double-sentences.

Should Jack choose to he can skip the "weighing of the soul" part and just send a person's soul directly to Hell.

"Now, please try to impress my dad. If he doesn't like you, he'll just send your soul directly to Hell with no trial. I lose more boyfriends that way..."

I like Jack, especially his relationship with Jessica. Obviously he makes a pretty shoddy protagonist though, lol. I do have one question: how does he not know anything about modern tech? If he's constantly scrying all over the place, surely he's glanced at this plane in the last few hundred years in his vigilance against the Devils, no?

Chapter 0

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Jessica is starting to panic.

This, and the next... six or so paragraphs, are massively over-expository. SDT to the max! It'll take a little longer to show and you'll probably have to cut some things: that's fine. We don't need to know every individual bit of her past in excruciating detail. Keeping some things hidden furthers the mystery.

"Well, if you are facing this world, then you need to look more proper for it." Henry says with a sly smile. From the folds of his robe he pulls out three folded white linen robes. "I got these specially made for you. It took us all night and the last of our white dye to make them in time."

Aww.

Henry pulls Jessica to him and messes up her hair by rubbing his hand over the top of her head.

This is kind of a weird thing to say, and a weird way to say it. "musses up her hair" would do the job perfectly here.

This is a treasured piece of Henry's collection.

SDT!

After a few more moments of reminicsing Henry leaves the room

*reminiscing; and also you need a comma after reminiscing.

Henry pleas to her.

"Pleas" is a (plural) noun. You want "pleads" here.

The second she would fly too far away he would teleport her directly to her bedroom.

lol. "DevaDad is so annoying!"

The prologue here is nice, but frankly I don't know how much it was needed. Most of the information here was already conveyed through the first three chapters, so this feels a touch redundant. If I were you, I'd probably trim the prologue down a bit, maybe expand on the conversation with Henry or some other single moment, but don't try to stuff too much exposition into it. A prologue is really the first thing that will be read, in a longer work: it needs to contain a hook, and preferably little else. It's not a good place to do background exposition. Do something that will draw people in, but don't worry about explaining anything in the prologue: keeping people in the dark keeps them reading!

Chapter 4

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"In case you forgot, she is not a suspect, inmate, not convict.

Presumably you mean "neither a suspect, nor an inmate, not a convict" or some less-verbose version thereof.

She is a little girl that is in over her head.

While you're obviously entitled to have your characters speak however you like, you should be aware that this is wrong. "That" is for objects; "who" is for people.

She thinks over those words after speaking them, unsure how true any of it is.

Ha; that's pretty much exactly what I was thinking.

"Oh! I really wish I have that trail mix."

Probably you mean "...wish I had..."

Her stomach roars again and her smile twitches with it.

Nice visual (/audio?)

She pulls back the chair in front of her and turns it sideways before she sits down. Watson can tell her wings would be crushed against the back of the chair if she sat in it normally.

A little SDT-y, but this is a good visual so I'll let it slide

Watson is surprised to see Jessica not pray before eating. "Did you forget to say grace?"

"Mwa?"

So many lols. First at Watson for being a huge dork, and then at Jessica because lol.

"Is this something cultural? Did I offend you?" Jessica voice lowers, again. "I'm sorry."

hehehehe. This whole conversation is great.

"No. Deva. Day like daylight. Va like in," she pauses while she thinks of an example.

lol

"Devas are the bulk of the soldiers in a deities army.

*deity's (man that word looks stupid )

Watson pauses to absorb this new information. Something did not feel right about what she just said. "Okay, first: what you just described sounds a lot like an angel to me. Second: deity? As in God?"

I told myself I wouldn't keep quoting lol-passages, but I can't help myself.

It might not be just what Jessica is telling her, but it might be because she believes it.

SDT

She chuckles to herself an then her eyes pop open, "OH! I can tolerate extreme temperatures."

LOL

The island was made by father. It is supposed to be a place

You're missing a quotation mark at the beginning of this paragraph.

"He can talk to you as well."

"I would like to hear this."

Incoming hilarity in 5... 4... 3...

"I understand." There is a brief pause, "Henry wants me to ask you something." Another momentary pause. "He wants to know if you have Bram Stoker's Dracula. He says he can't find it, and doesn't remember if he gave it to you or not."

"I haven't had the chance to look through all the books he gave me. I'm not sure. I will let you know when I get my bag back." The whole time Watson just watches.

It's better than I ever dreamed. This is a wonderful moment. I cannot get over this. It's just... yeah.

It is like she is watching a casual conversation with a girl and a table. She doesn't know how to react or what to say.

SDT! Show her fidgeting awkwardly or looking between Jessica and the table, or whatever.

"Most likely, but he won't speak unless address him directly. It tends to freak people out."

You're missing an "I". Also, lol.

I been living on a tiny island my whole life.

Is this how Jessica speaks, or did you mean "I've"?

"Watson? Like Sherlock's partner?"

"Yeah, but I'm an officer. Not a detective."

"It is a pleasure to be formally introduced Miss ... Officer Watson."

"Please, call me Janet."

Great ending, though I'm left wondering what the officers on the other side of the interrogation window are thinking at this point, lol. The one thing that's a little hard to swallow is how incredibly relaxed Janet is about the whole thing. I mean... jeez. Anyway, I'm just going to move right on to Ch. 5!

Chapter 5

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there is a situation down the hall.

Crazy doom prophet?

"The Angel of Death will arrive at the dusk and reap the souls of two thirds the population! You have seen the sign! The TV showed The Angel judge those who indulge in sins of the flesh."

Crazy doom prophet!

She works around the cops until she can see what is going.

*going on, presumably.

The police are too focused on to notice her approach.

*focused on... what?

Some of them have tasers drawn and pointing into the corner. Others have pepper spray. Neither of these things Jessica recognizes, though.

SDT!

Frustrated she steps up on a chair and then a the table in front of it.

Comma after "frustrated".

"An offering for you, my Angel." The lunatic shoves the tool in his hand deep into the skinny man's neck.

Oh, good. Also, has Jessica somehow never seen a knife before?

"I think you have done enough."

Yeah, naturally.

Jessica pulls away her hands and greats the little guy with a smile. "Are you feeling better?"

*greets. Also, aww.

The man says unsteady.

*unsteadily.

The skinny man finishes the with a laugh.

You've got an extra "the" in there, or else something else is missing. Also, you do this all the time: when you use a quote followed by a description of the speech, the quote should end with a comma and the part outside the quotes should not be capitalized. e.g. "...incident report," the skinny man finishes with a laugh.

The stares of every officer in the room halt her in her tracks. No one says a single word. Everyone has stopped dead in their tracks.

Try to come up with a way to avoid repeating the phrase here.

The Chief turns his finger to Jessica. "You!" She wishes she could turn invisible, as she closes her eyes and braces for the shouting that will surely ensue. "Thank you." His voice is calm and sincere.

This is well done, knowing what we know about him and calm voices...

Jessica steps into the room, and asks one question to the Janet before she leaves.

YOU MAY ASK ONLY ONE QUESTION OF THE JANET.

Good one again! Man, you really have been busy the last month or two, haven't you?

Cronc Bio

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Nothing much to say here that I haven't said before, except to repeat: poor Cronc.

The Mystery of the Missing Sammich

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Okay, first of all YES! Ahem. Bear in mind that while I'm still going to point out things like SDT and whatnot in critiques of Cronc snippets, because I think it's good practice for you to see them, I don't actually care much about them in this context. You can get away with a lot when your narrator is most closely tied to an illiterate protagonist with negligible intelligence

Cronc is furious. He just had that sandwich a moment before.

SDT

Himself, being dressed in red robes and a bald head covered in arcane tattoos doesn't stand out from the rest of the motley crew of individuals.

This is a kind of weird sentence. You need some more punctuation, and "himself" should just be "he".

"Well I think he brings spirit to the party." The young girl speaks with a southern accent.

Friggin' lol.

The only way she can communicate is by manipulating the water vapor in the air and make it imitate sound waves.

That's pretty darn cool.

"Did you check everywhere?" Lue-Lee asks in a more rhetorical way than actual concern.

"Yes, I did."

Ha!

It is difficult for him to form long sentences or to put a series of them in order. "Cronc fin baug lizzy thing! Eet trie eet Cronc. Din, CRONC SMASH LIZZY!" Cronc illustrates this by clasping his fists together and swinging them up and down. He puts his hands on his hips then starts to laugh. With a big grin he finishes, "Din Cronc eet lizzy!"

Are you sure he doesn't have a level or two in bard?

Then he remembers why he came out here. "SUM WON STULE CRONC SAMMICH!" He waves both fists in the air.

Great visual.

he is wearing white linen. a stained apron, and a sous chef's hat.

That period in the middle ought to be a comma.

"Just because you moved out doesn't mean I'm no longer your father, nor does it mean I no longer love you." Jack says in flat tones. He feels emotions, but is to hard-boiled to properly show them.

This is goddamn hilarious. That "to" should be "too", though.

The large gray feline answers in a Russian accent.

Well.

She speaks of the dark forest that makes up half the island the grew up on.

*probably "they"

"No, and I would appreciate it if you would stop pestering me about it. The scar gives me character."

"Okay, then" Jessica says with a pout and turns back around.

This is a really entertaining group haha.

Jessica sits down next to Cronc, how keeps switching his gaze between the rest of the people

*who

Cronc, watching Jack begin his speech, raises an empty hand to his mouth, expecting a sandwich. When no food enters his mouth he starts to become angry. "HAY! WHO TUK CRONC SAMMICH?!"

I was really hoping this was the answer to the mystery, hahaha.

"ALRIGHT!" Lue-Lee interrupts. Jumping up on the table with fists clenched. "I'm not letting this one pass me by. OW, CRONC! I took your sandwich. Whacha gonna do about it?"

lol. These Cronc relief snippets never fail to entertain. Well done.

Chapter 6

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Misadventure's

*Misadventures

He peaks outside occasionally

*peeks

"Do I need to call a press conference and let them know we have the second coming in interrogation room three?"

lol

Watson wonders if she should mention the voice of Jessica's supposed father just emitting from nowhere when they talked.

Interrogation rooms are mic'd: why wouldn't everyone else already know about this?

Would telling them just add more stress or lead them to believe that she is an angel.

This ought to end with a question mark.

The drunken disorderly

Unless this is an intentional turn of phrase, the actual charge you're referring to is "drunk and disorderly".

that we pull of the streets once a month

*off

"It ... sounds silly the way you ..."

lol poor Garcia.

If she isn't angel or the second coming or Buddha,

Looks like you're missing a word.

"What?" The Chief looks at her incredulously.

I CAN SHOW YOU THE WOOOORLD!

The moment the door closes Watson stands up and begins to make her way out. She plans to head to the basement herself and collect Jessica's belongings. This will give her one last opportunity to speak with her before she leaves.

I think you could do even more with this. Jessica obviously has a strong effect on people who see/meet her; I think you could make Watson's newfound obsession even more evident.

The Hostage

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The guy bleeding all over his shirt and pooling on the ground around him is a snitch.

Something is wrong with this sentence. Presumably the guy isn't pooling on the ground around... himself, so the blood must be, but that's not what the sentence says. Unravel your thoughts and group them together sensibly.

Thanks the information he provided put several dealers in jail.

Same here; I can basically figure out what you're saying but all the tone is lost because I have to work out the content separately from the actual words, because the words don't make sense.

Five guards total in the room. Three spread out and two on either side of the hostage.

These aren't sentences.

My eyesight divided between the man in front of me and Lucky's eyes.

You need an "is" after eyesight.

"You need to cut back, Little Bobby. That stuff will give you cancer."

Good touch.

I turn on the light and look at Mister Jefe. He is still coughing from the smoke. I throw a quick punch into his gut to knock the wind out of him.

OH. You should probably mention beforehand that your "target" is not the guy you were previously referring to as your "target". Just saying.

I utitlity outfit with many pockets and straps, complete with a hood and mask to cover my face.

That monstrosity is not a word, and it looks like you mean "A" rather than "I", but that would make this still not a sentence. "I'm wearing", perhaps.

I drop his severed finger on the ground and stomp on it. I twist it beneath the heel of my boot like it was a lit cigarette.

Eh... I don't know about this. So far, our "hero" has been extremely dispassionate, in-control, and efficient. This action stinks of emotion, and it just doesn't seem warranted.

I dash straight for him and thrust my dagger point first into Mister Jefe's throat. I leave the blade in and grab his face with both hands. I look him eye to eye and stare. I stare until I see the life drain from his eyes.

Um... okay. Maybe there's some emotion here after all? Color me confused. I would have expected some mention of a grudge against Mister Jefe before this. It's a very intense scene here, but I'm just not sure where it came from.

I set off a smoke bomb and then cast the spell to unlock the door. The men run in with guns drawn, but they are not trained to fight in complete darkness. One by one I kill them.

I'll admit, given the rest of this snippet, I was hoping for something a little cleverer/more dramatic for the exit strategy.

I disguised myself as a janitor to gain entry.

You seem to have slipped into past tense here.

an expert techromancer

*technomancer, maybe?

"Thank you."

I leave the room. What happens after this is not my problem ... right?

Heh. Good end. I'm still left really wondering why he took it upon himself to kill Mister Jefe, though. Otherwise, I enjoyed this snippet immensely. Your first-person perspective is very strong.

The Interrogation

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By the way, can I just mention that I really enjoy the premise of this little series? Because I do.

"Stop staring at me. It is not my problem anymore." Lucky sits on the counter and stares into my eyes.

Curse you, cats!

"I got paid the job is done.

You should have a semicolon after "paid".

"Meow"

Cats are so helpful. This is a pretty funny conversation.

"Excuse me, sir, but you need to take your cat out of here."

lol

"The cat is my medical alert animal." I say straight faced. "She is specially trained to make sure I take my medication on time."

Wonderful. This is another good example of a quote that should end in a comma instead of a period, though!

"Meow." Lucky positions herself between me and the bottle, and continues to stare me in the eyes.

I think you have a cat.

A beep emits from my jacket pocket, interrupting my well thought out and concise counter argument.

heh.

"Alright, then. I will leave, but I will speak to my attorney about this discrimination." I get up and leave a counterfeit twenty on the table.

lol and double-lol.

I would assume he is confused as to why the white sheets are turning red from blood.

I assume you mean "why the white sheets aren't turning red". Otherwise I'm very confused as to what just happened here.

I move my mouth right next to his ear and whisper, "You are not very good at this."

Is this an actual character you play? Because oh, man. So much fun.

"Meow."

"One more word like that, missy, and you are not getting any catnip tonight."

The cat remains quiet until we get home.

lol. I really like this character; I hope you continue with him. Not at the cost of your other story, though. Just make sure you write all the time and never stop, that's all.

[Dr Bwaa]

Critiques, Part 2
Turns out my critique post was over the 50,000-character limit. Whoops! Onward, and sorry for the double-post!

@Kymme

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The Calm, The Storm

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The Calm, The Storm

Technically, that should probably be a semicolon. However, since it's a title, you can get away with just about anything. Just felt like pointing it out.

Liam's eyes snapped open. The man stood up, blinking sleep from his eyes.

Woah, two very different images: you open with eyes that "snap" open, implying instant wakefulness, but then you immediately retract it and say that he's still partially asleep. Which is it? Based on the rest of the passage, I'd say the second part is out of place.

He moved to the door flap of his tent, passing by other men, stirring from slumber as well.

The intent is clear enough, but technically, "He" is still the subject when we get to the last clause, so it reads as "He [was] stirring from slumber as well [while he did the other things]."

the sound of hoof-beats on the tramped dirt

Probably either "trampled" or "tamped"; not "tramped". I think what you have is technically true, but it's a stretch. "Tramp" is usually either a noun (not what you want) or an intransitive verb meaning "to walk heavily". This second definition is presumably what you're going for, but the verb doesn't take an object: "we tramped the ground" doesn't really work unless you use a really antiquated meaning of the word.

"The 53rd, hm? That's a pike-man block, isn't it?" "Yes, ma'am." The sniper shook her head, and swung back up onto her horse. "Best of luck, Corporal."

Well, this is ominous.

A few minutes later, he emerged from the armory with his pike and armor.

He just went into the armory last sentence; you don't need to repeat the phrase. We know where he's emerging from.

Liam heard the gruff, nails-on-chalkboard voice of his Sergeant

First of all, "gruff" and "nails-on-chalkboard" do not fit together in my brain at all. They are opposite sounds, so now I'm confused. Second, nails-on-a-chalkboard is cliche; you can come up with something better. There are plenty of unpleasant sounds in the military to use (but first you might want to decide if it's gruff or screechy!)

one-hundred and fifty pushups in full field kit

Owwww.

So, at ten-hundred hours, the first pike-man blocks set off into the forest.

I realize that modern-day military-time conventions are flavorful, and that this period has at least guns, but mixing "ten-hundred hours" with "pike-men" just confuses my brain because I'm not really sure what tech level we're dealing with here. Do they actually have such clear-cut time definitions?

Their live blood dripped from its many blades.

*lifeblood?

like hot metal being dragged through his body.

It's not a simile if that's what's actually happening No need for the "like".

Liam looked up, and saw helmed face looking at his.

Missing an "a", I think.

“Stay with me, Liam.”

Then, darkness.

Good ending. I'm really hooked actually; it seems like there's a lot of potential for intrigue related to this woman, their group's separation from the army, and so on. I hope you've got more coming!

Felix

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They night sky was clear over the plains.

*The

"Permission to enter, Lieutenant?"

Maresa rolled her eyes, still looking over her patient. "Permission granted, Commander."

You set up an interesting dynamic between these two right away; nicely done.

The healer nodded, smiling. "That boy," she pointed to the sleeping fox-child. "Killed a bear. A-And not a cub," she added quickly. "A fully grown black bear. The ax was found embedded in between the bear's eyes. There were no other injuries. Commander, he killed it in one swing. You must admit the boy has potential, sir."

Good reveal, and good speech here. Also, wow.

absorbing His Lieutenant's words

Why is "His" capitalized?

Avery returned to his soldiers, another howl echoing through the night. Perhaps he is an omen, he thought. Maybe he'll be the one.

You are going to continue some of these some day, right? You can't keep pulling me in like this!

@Arkhosia

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Sariel Blackbriar, Elven Explorer Extraordinaire

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"You follow a dead god. Your god's followers brought inferno to my home, torched it's children, and made firewood out of it's foundations, and the Phoenix has risen. When you see him in, say, 10 seconds, tell Gruums he is as good as dead.

No need for the ' on those "its". Also it's not clear what "it" is...? The final line is great here, though (you're missing a closing quote though, and an h at the end of "Gruums").

She wieghs 133 pounds, and has slate grey skin, platinum blond hair she cuts in a moptop.

*weighs

I'd also move the "and" to the third clause; it's weird to have a list with the "and" somewhere in the middle.

a world reknowned sellsword

*renowned

The slate-colored skin, purple eyes, and platinum blond moptop probably was a factor as well.

Multiple factors here, so the end should be plural: "were probably factors as well".

very pale-was a wizard, often inside with her spellbooks

This does not appear to be a sentence.

Sariel had more elf blood in her veins, so to spread,

Is "so to spread" an idiom? If so I'm not familiar with it.

and a limp

Seems like we could have heard about this in her escape from the raid.

Beings part drow

*Being

Nice! I'm looking forward to seeing more of her.

The Bleak Plains

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The Bleak Plains are not a place you want to be lost in.

"Plains" is one of those stupid words that can kind of be plural or singular at your discretion, but using it either way doesn't sound great. I usually just try to phrase uses to avoid the problem entirely: rather than "the plains is not a place..." or "the plains are not places...", something like "You do not want to be lost in the Bleak Plains."

The sky is full of clouds of pure ash

"pure ash" is a kind of weird phrase haha.

The land is full of jagged peaks of basalt, coal, and obsidian. The sky is full of clouds of pure ash. Spires of ebony jut across the land, and near-bottomless sinkholes pit the land. Dire creatures prowl the landscape, and what little vegetation exists is tough and hardy. Many eager and inexperienced explorers have perished in this land.

Sensing a pattern? Try to find a way to avoid repeating the word "land" so much. Also, I might swap out "hardy" with something that doesn't have such positive connotations. "Hardy" plants have the feeling of being good to grow because they can survive anywhere--which is fine, but it feels a little too positive for your purposes. "Scrubby", "scrappy", etc might be better suited.

Mithariel was well known for it's theocratic government and devotion to Moradin.

*no apostrophe in "its"

blessed with superhuman eyesight

I might choose a word other than "superhuman" since you're talking about Dwarves.

paladins mercilessly slew the warlock in his sleep

Wow, that's pretty cold for a bunch of Paladins.

realized their mistake when they saw the holy symbol in his bloody, lifeless hands.

I thought they already knew he was buddies with Asmodeus, though? Why was this a surprise?

The destruction allowed earth and fire elementals that the dwarves had used to power their forges and mine for them, which wreaked havoc on their former prison

There's something wrong with this sentence; the elementals don't have a verb attached to them.

the arrows I have looted numbered only 31.

Stay in the past tense; *had

where it was rumored a Orc raiding party had been in recent proximity to.

This is awkward. There are definitely smoother ways to say this.

that was something I soon regretted

This is kind of stilted as well. "I regretted the distraction as soon as I stepped on it..."

I tumbled about 30 feet down the coal mountain, and sustained bruises and a coat of pulverized coal upon my clothes.

Who talks like this? If I fell down a mountain, I'd be talking about how it felt, not "I sustained bruises", and I sure as hell wouldn't be talking about how my clothes got dirty unless them being clean was super important--and if that's the case, I'd be questioning my sanity for bringing nice clothes to a land where the air is made of ash.

it's fur bristling and teeth bared

*its

Oh well. not that I was any good at archery anyways.

You're missing some capitalization, and this phrase is kind of incongruous with the rest of the passage. We haven't gotten any of this sarcasm before, and while it could be fine, it seems out of place when it suddenly springs up in the middle of fighting for her life.

As the creature stopped in shock and whimpered in pain as it pawed at it's snout

This clause is a runon. Only one "as" clause at a time, please! Also, "it's" should be "its" again.

it decided wisely to cut it's losses and flee

*its

I didn't bother chase after it

Missing a "to"

from earlier encounters with it's kin

*its

not to mention the scrapes and bruises I had gained from my fall.

We're back into the weirdly-doctoral language for describing injuries again.

Such is the life of an adventurer.

-Sariel Blackbriar

I like this ending; and the allusion to a journal or adventurer's chronicle of some kind. I think if you can get Sariel's voice to be a little more consistent, these snippets will really start to flow.

Vierna Duskember

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Appearance: Vierna has snow-white hair that is worn in a combo of bangs and long hair that ends just below her shoulders.. She has bright amber eyes and obsidian skin, and wears a turquoise scale tunic over a long slate-grey skirt that ends at her knees, fingerless graphite-colored steel gloves and boots Her gauntlets bear the emblem of a spiderweb, as do the boots' shin guards. The symbol of Lolth is branded on her left shoulder. She often carries a greatsword with a silver handle and a iron blade about as dark as Ebony.

This is pretty badass, pardoning a couple of typos. The only problem I have with it is the very last bit: the ebony comparison is overused, in my opinion, and you don't even quite commit to it! Think of something you can really compare the blade to, and straight-up compare them!

all to eager

*too (I know; I'm trying to overlook typos in the backstories since I'm not doing in-depth critiques, but this one bugs me)

The archomental's followers were originally hostile to Vierna, causing her to knock out a couple in self defense

lol

the young drow, who's only possessions were

*whose

Flaws: like most drow, Vierna is racist towards elves and eladrin. She also has a phobia of whips and a fear of being captured or being helpless. She will not attack someone holding a whip unless she absolutely must, and being whipped actually will make her cower in fear.

These flaws are incredibly flavorful. The drow-paladin thing has been done a lot, but there are some really interesting things in here. I like it.

Sariel Feydusk

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Another Sariel? Now I know you're just harassing me

Her dark red hair is cut in a moptop, in contrast with her dark green eyes. Sariel wears a dark green leather tunic

So you're telling me she's an evil Christmas Elf?

with black gloves and brown gloves a tatoo in the shape of a purple serpent on her right cheek

What? Something weird happened here.

she wears an amulet with the emerald embedded in it that contains a illusion spell that causes observers to perceive her as a eladrin.

Here, too. This sentence could use some unraveling.

Backround

This is a cool backstory, and I like the Gnomes-and-Eladrin refugee group composition. That makes for some very interesting possibilities further down the line (as well as the obvious possibilities from someone finding out about her amulet and wanting it for themselves for who-knows-what reasons of course). I'd like to know more about her personality, though.

@Winds

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Returning to the Tower

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"So...we can't get a bow without trading services. As fresh ghosts the only thing we have to offer is our combat skill...which you can't use without the bow we can't trade for. More to the point, we wouldn't need to trade for a bow if we had our own equipment, which we can't have without trading for other services, which we wouldn't need to bother with if we had the tools to do it with. Enough. I'll kill the bloody ghosteaters myself. The worst they can do is kill me."

lol

In any case, he can't make things harder on me.

That sounds like a challenge.

Truly, I am at my best when surprised.

Oh, I missed Kalach. Your humor is really just so enjoyable.

"So. I blasted ghosteaters for you. Will you lead us to the tower now?"

"Yes."

"Simple. I've missed simple. It won't last long, I'm sure."

And again

Even after I die and plane shift-twice-I still have to deal with the paladin.

Ahahaha.

Four, if you count Jessica as a combatant.

It keeps happening!

So now, on top of being dead, condemned, ghostly, and unwillingly sworn to the deity that rules the Nine, now my only comrades are keeping secrets from me.


Truly, mine is a charmed life.

Well, I can safely say this has been one of my favorite Kalach snippets. The snark just keeps on coming! I am forced into the conclusion that you are at your best when harassing the poor guy.

@Malrone

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He sat in the plush chair, shifting around and sweating.

I think taking out "around" makes this work a little better. You want tension here; the alliteration and tightening the language will help that.

especially after the turn their conversation just took.

*...the turn their conversation had just taken. Since your narration is in the past tense, you need to use the past-perfect to describe completed "past-er" events.

the local Radiant Father should be aware of your presence. At lea-”

Dan sprung from his chair, eyes wide, and seized James from across the desk

It seems like it's the mention of the Radiant Father that elicits this reaction, but he waits like five seconds (in my mental production of this scene, anyway) to panic about it. I'd move his interruption up closer to the actual source of his panic.

The emanation seeped into the merchant, and stole the color from everything it touched.

I'm having trouble picturing this. You've got a black aura, "seeping" into the merchant and somehow stealing his color? But everything it touches looks black, because that's the color of the aura... you see my problem? Maybe save the color-stealing thing (which is super cool) for when he drops James back down, or when he finally "turns off" the aura.

Dan let him go. His fat form thumped down onto the desk, spilling red wine everywhere. Veins bulged weirdly along his neck, like long black worms. His flesh was pallid; he wasn't breathing.

One or more of the "his"es in this passage should be "James", because if you read the quote above, it reads like it's Dan who has weird veins and so forth, and I honestly am not sure which of them you're trying to describe at any given moment.

Everything had gone wrong, was wrong!

This is weird.

The sight now-dead body brought waves of unbearable nausea with it.

You're missing an "of the", I think.

Dan grabbed that precious guisarme propped up in the corner took off out of the room without a glance back.

There's something wrong with this sentence. Specifically, it's really two different thoughts, mashed together with no punctuation or combining words.

He ran out of the building, from the town, and away from everything he knew.

The prepositions (out, from, away) could have a little more cohesion here, but I like the structure of this closing line.

Over all, this is a great climax, and now I really want to see how on earth he got here from where we last saw him!

@TheWombatOfDoom

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Aaand... I don't have a review for you yet, even though yours has been first in the queue for ages. I have a plane flight on Thursday that I intend to dedicate entirely to your stuff. Until then, I'm sorry to have failed you!!

@they/their/he/she/his/her

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I am firmly in the camp that "they" is a plural pronoun, and as such it is wrong to use it to refer to something singular. So whatever view you take, I'll probably continue to harass you about it if you write "whoever it was, he was going to take all their stuff".

[Arkhosia]

@DoctorBwaa
Thanks for the many corrections! I never really was able to tell when exactly which its to use...
Just to list a few things:
Bleak plains

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That's pretty cold for a bunch of paladins.

As the city was a Theocracy, most of the higher ranking soldiers and, police, and guards were paladins of Moradin (it pays to be on the theocracy's buddy list), but those paladins were not often contacted by their god to hear his wishes, and took orders from the clerics. Most of the clerics were very much against followers of other gods, paranoid of opposition from them, and they considered the evil gods the most dangerous threat. They were quick to snuff out their worshippers in preemptive strikes, as the "evil" followers had no real restraints and were opportunistic loose cannons, according to the church.

I thought they already knew he was buddies with Asmodeus, though? Why was this a surprise?

They were not aware the warlock actually served Asmodeus, just that he had bargained with him for infernal powers.

Vierna

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Thank you! I'm very proud of her!
I'm thinking of changing her name though: how do you think Caelynn sounds?
And yes, I love ebony... Also obsidian!
All I have to say though: Thank God/The Gods/...Nothing?(just being politically correct) that they removed paladin alignment restrictions!

Sariel

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Yeah, I sort of have a strong fondness for the name...

[Winds]

@Dr. Bwaa

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That sounds like a challenge.

Tempting fate. Because why not? As it happens, his player did an exellent job of keeping them spread out enough that Kalach could chain-blast all of them before any wounds were sustained. (For a character I meant to use as a support/havok caster, he ended up being a major damage dealer...)

Oh, I missed Kalach. Your humor is really just so enjoyable.

Good to hear. (I certainly practice enough...)

It keeps happening!

Even better things are coming.

Well, I can safely say this has been one of my favorite Kalach snippets. The snark just keeps on coming! I am forced into the conclusion that you are at your best when harassing the poor guy.

Thanks. Though I take as higher praise that this is the first critique I can recall that found no mistakes. Progress!

[TheWombatOfDoom]

Critiques, Part 2
Turns out my critique post was over the 50,000-character limit. Whoops! Onward, and sorry for the double-post!

@TheWombatOfDoom

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Aaand... I don't have a review for you yet, even though yours has been first in the queue for ages. I have a plane flight on Thursday that I intend to dedicate entirely to your stuff. Until then, I'm sorry to have failed you!!

It's all good. I've been patient...though, to be clear, that's the prologue and "magic" right? Because I've made a few small changes to the later that you might want to update your records with, if you haven't yet. PM me if you need re-sendings of things. I look forward to the fruit of your efforts! And I'm almost ready to send you part two (fate) since last we spoke.

@they/their/he/she/his/her

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I am firmly in the camp that "they" is a plural pronoun, and as such it is wrong to use it to refer to something singular. So whatever view you take, I'll probably continue to harass you about it if you write "whoever it was, he was going to take all their stuff".

Blast it.

[Dr Bwaa]

@Arkhosia
Asmodeus: ahh, that makes sense.
Vierna: I judge names almost exclusively based on how they fit into their campaign world--if Caelynn fits and you're not using Pathfinder deities (Cayden Cailean is confusing enough, in my book), then more power to you!

@Winds
Well I look forward to the next installment as ever! I'll try to ensure that I find something to complain about in the future

@Wombat
I have the link to Magic but you haven't sent me a link to the Prologue. If you can PM me the Prologue link I'll make those two my goal for the weekend; otherwise it'll just be Magic. Either way I'm looking forward to finishing up my comments and getting them sent to you!

[Arkhosia]

Divine Redemption: Vierna's Caelynn's story.

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You may call me evil. You may call me unthinking. Assign any ignorant stereotype I may embody.

But you may not call me a slave of the gods.

My dark skin, pointy ears, and shining armor deceive your perceptions, for I am not evil; I am not lawfully stupid nor a paladin (my god-buff is rather radiant, and irritating when trying to be inconspicuous), and I am certainly not the least outgoing person on the face of the planes here, below, above, and definitely not the Shadowfell!

Ooh, nearly got you there, didn't I! Just because I swore a few vows doesn't mean I have to be an Ice Queen. That's only if you swore to the Raven Queen's followers. They are deadly serious when they say profanity is not allowed in the temple, and their reaction is rather cold.

I'm getting off topic. Sorry, it's a bad habit. What was it you asked me to tell you about? Ah yes, my life story.

I was born into slavery. Don't know who my parents were or are. Probably were. They were drow slaves, and we drow don't exactly have a reputation for being kind. Otherwise we'd be called elves. But that's a story for another day. Back to the story: I spent a couple decades enslaved to my master. Didn't catch his name either. I was a servant, attending to menial chores. You know, dusting the spiderwebs to keep them clean, serving roth'e minion and other meals, and attending to other deeds I'd prefer to not talk about. You know, usual sexy housemaid stuff.

Good thing for me though, was my master had a gambling problem, and owed a priestess of Lolth money, and couldn't get out not paying because assassinating a priestess isn't exactly how you gain Lolth's favor. He didn't have enough money, so the priestess got some new slaves, me included. Fair trade, all considered. Anyways, my new master already had enough slaves, and decided to set us free. With strings attached of course. We just love those. She said she would let is free if we either became soldiers of the house or priestesses depending on our gender, because hooray for sexism as usual.

I think it's pretty obvious which occupation I joined.

I spent years advancing up the ranks of the church and spent most of my time on that creepy library. The librarian was too nice to not be planning to kill someone, but that may be because i never liatened to her. All I remember was... something about leaving dirt on the bookshelves? Oh, and I also spent some time learning that daggers are a great reference on your résumé to get that promotion! But that's besides the point. I spent a lot of time getting... Acquainted with Lolth. How? By reading The Big Book of Lolth of course! What were you thinking? Oh. How the heck would I do that with a goddess? Don't answer that, I don't want to know. Any ways,I began to doubt Lolth's sanity, thanks to the psychology class we priestesses take (speaking of which, I should really reread my copy of Psychological Warfare For Dummies). The other priestesses weren't exactly too agreeable with my theory.

I won't go into the details, but it involved a rust monster, a decanter of endless water, and Bigby's Expressive Digit. At least they took it well though. The last heretical event involved Evard's Black Tentacles.

That's how I ended up in the underdark, with no armor, a backpack, a skirt that I thanked for being too long, and a smell of rotting sewage wafting behind me. After a few misadventures such as the Noodle Incident making a living in the caves below, I stumbled across the domain of Sunnis, Archomental of Earth. It was rather sandy and rocky. You know, the usual earth-themed stuff. Apparently, the Archomental had followers. I apologize profusely for killing their brain cells and causing any amnesia. Sunnis herself called them off and offered me shelter and armor, don't exactly know why. I promised Sunnis I would return her favor some day when I left for the surface, and when I did, I had a new goal: help destroy the cults of Ogre'moch. So Archomentals have family feuds too! We drow have so much in common with them, except it is a less complicated thing for us, with all those cults.

So that's how I ended up on the surface backpacking with a sword (and some make-up if we meet any elves: thanks a bunch Correllion) for a living. It's the best job ever. Of all time.

[Dr Bwaa]

@Arkhosia

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My dark skin, pointy ears, and shining armor deceive your perceptions, for I am not evil, I am not a slave, and I am certainly not the least outgoing person on the face of the planes here, below, above, and in the mirror!

This sentence gets away from you a bit; I think I'd split it up. Also, as it is, the comma after "evil" should be a semicolon.

Ooh, nearly got you there, didn't I!

Honestly, I don't really know what the second half of the first sentence was saying, so no, not really.

Just because I swore a few vows doesn't mean I have to be an Ice Queen. Well, unless you swore to the Raven Queen's followers. They are deadly serious when they say profanity is not allowed in the temple.

This feels really all over the place. You're switching perspective like crazy and leaping around without giving me any context--the effect is that I feel lost, rather than hooked, although the last sentence here is strong.

I'm getting off topic, sorry.

I realize this is kind of the point of the first part, but it reads less as "off-topic" and more "unhinged".

Otherwise we'd be called elves.but that's a story for another day.

period, space, capital letter.

You know, dusting the spiderwebs to keep them clean

Now this... this is hilarious. I love this.

You know, usual sexy housemaid stuff.

This too.

She said she would let is free

Presumably *us

because hooray for sexism.

While this is funny, it seems a little out of character for a female Drow, even a free and rebellious one. Just saying.

spent most of my time on that creepy library.

Probably *in? But maybe not?

I should really reread my copy ofPsychological Warfare For Dummies

You're missing a space after "of". Also, lol.

The last heretic event involved Evard's Black Tentacles.

"Heretical" is probably more appropriate here. Perhaps "appropriate" is the wrong word, though.

After a few misadventures such as the Noodle Incident making a living in the caves below

While I absolutely love a good C&H shoutout, there is still something wrong with this sentence. The Noodle Incident seems shoehorned in where it doesn't belong, or else the "making a living" piece doesn't belong in this thought. One way or another it seems to me that this sentence should be broken up.

It was rather sandy snd rocky.

*and

I apologize profusely for killing their brain cells.

While I know from the character profile that she knocked them out, I wouldn't be able to figure that out from this sentence.

So Archomentals have family feuds too! They're just like us.

lol. I was expecting a bit more snark here though.

So that's how I ended up on the surface backpacking with a sword for a living. It's the best job ever. Of all time.

I can't tell whether this is meant sarcastically or not, and I kind of like it haha. Caelynn's voice is very strong; she sounds like a lot of fun to write. Is there more, I hope?

[Arkhosia]

I plan to write more with her. Thanks for the review!

It's official now! Caelynn walks on bookshelves.

Oh, also she's an avenger instead. Fits better.

[Lord Raziere]

A quote, from my latest character, Alixanda Thrune, PF Infernal Bloodline Tiefling Sorcerer:

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"First you have to realize- Dominate Person? Suggestion? Even Charm Person? These are all last resorts in social manipulation, especially for a spell caster. To competently manipulate the people around you, you have to use as little magic as possible, you have to know how they think, and how you can get them to do what you want with what they are thinking. The skill of a manipulator lies in how much power she does not need to wield herself to get other people to wield power for her. The very best manipulators don't even need to lie. They just give the needed information for people to make the assumptions that you want them to make and connect the dots you want connected, and then to act on their own conclusions, and thus even if you are found out, the only role in it they can accuse you of is being a bad informant, when most of the blame rests upon themselves for their actions.

Of course, truth-twisting while great tool, is not the only one. there are times when an outright lie, or a spell is needed. There is no shame in manipulating the situation with deceit, truth-twisting is hard and takes skill. I however recommend that one often include elements of the truth even in their lies. This makes them more grounded in reality, also don't go over board with lies. Use them only when they are needed.

Spells, are a last resort, because of the higher risk. With lies, there is a higher risk of people finding out that what you said was false and thus doing something differently.
With spells, the risks lie in people discovering that you used a spell, the person shaking off the spell, or it being dispelled. Sure more power is gained in what you can tell them to do, but doing so runs the risk that very same power and control being broken or rendered useless.Therefore such power is only to be used as a last resort, or when the situation definitely warrants it. Too many manipulators make the mistake of sticking to one style of manipulation. Of only truth-twisting, of only lying, of only spells. Me? I use all three. Always solve a problem with a dagger if you can, never be afraid to use a hammer when its appropriate, and always keep your sword at the ready when neither will suffice."

and perhaps a second:

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"The true limit of a manipulator however is knowledge. To truly manipulate the situation to your advantage, you must know more than the opposition. Being caught with equal knowledge to your foe, is like being caught in a fair fight. It is a failure of tactics and strategy, and you should do all that you can to avoid it. Sure its possible to outwit your foe with equal knowledge, but doing so is risky and dangerous.
Always gain more knowledge. Always have something up your sleeve the enemy won't expect. Furthermore, know the people around you, know their capabilities and their weaknesses. Know what buttons they react to and what cards they cannot counter.
Furthermore, know where their loyalties lie, and what will make them change those loyalties.

However. Whatever you do, do not descend into paranoia. Paranoia is not a strength, it is a weakness. Being prepared for unlikely possibilities is a strength, but paranoia is going too far. You need to trust some people. Otherwise, the paranoid delusions of being surrounded by enemies will drive you mad and warp your image into something monstrous to those around you- after all, who will follow you if you consider everyone you know an enemy? Who will carry out any of your orders when don't even trust them to remain loyal to you? paranoia is a self-fulfilling prophecy, one that can extend to everyone and everything you know and destroy everything you have worked for."

and a third:

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"There are a few reasons I wield a trident. One is so that people who don't know who I am will assume that I can and will use it and therefore will focus on the trident and will be surprised when I cast a spell. Two is so that people who do know who I am will assume that the trident is just for show and will therefore expect me to cast a spell, and thus be surprised when I stab them with the trident. The misdirection works both ways."

Background context:
She is a tielfing who for twenty years has basically been a scheming evil noble in Cheliax clawing her way up for power. But her son rejected her and started a rebellion, and she realized how great the evil she caused and thus decided to redeem herself by leaving Cheliax behind and try to help him- but her son rejected her, saying that he did not trust her, thinking that every move she did was another lie, another ploy.
and now she seeks to help her son despite him leading a rebellion in exile as nation after nation declares them terrorists to be eliminated. basically a twist on the old concept of "evil race rebel"- she is the mother of the rebel who rebelled against his evil society and decided that he had the right idea, but knows that her son is also a reckless fool and seeks to guide him with strategy and wise counseling, despite his distrust of her.

[mebecronck]

@DrBwaa

THE DOCTOR IS IN!

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Jessica Bio reply

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Holy crap! The not-wings part of her body must be twig-like!

I forgot to mention that doesn't include her wings, but yes, she is skinny. The weight of the wings doesn't add much, though. Hollow bones, and light feathers. All in all, I would say about 120 to 130.

I'm always game for anything that could be described as "misadventures"

Misadventures lead to so much fun!

Dramatic Telling reply

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I am so glad I'm not the only person who does this. Ever find yourself taping pages together in complex geometries so you can draw enough arrows and still have space for actual words?

I once made a nice collage out of one and found that the pattern looked like the Spider-Man logo.

Well, I truly hope your new writing process skips this step. And thank you for sharing that with us!

Right now I'm trying to get the whole story of JMHS (Working Title) typed out in a first draft. After that I will hit the editing phase and probably rewrite some parts. I have no plans for deleting it. I even have some printed out.

Jessica Chapter 1

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*nonetheless is usually written as one word.

I blame my new grammar and spellchecking software. I thought it was one word but it highlighted it as wrong, so I thought, "I must be mistaken." It messes up in other weird ways, too. This is what I get for the low, low price of FREE!

I noticed this before as well: by convention, most people are used to seeing italics for thoughts, mainly because single-quotes are normally reserved for quotes-within-quotes. There's no strict rule that I know of; just something to think about.

I think to myself Italics! Now there is an idea. I wonder how it will look out in text. Perhaps I will find out in this post.

This is (as PM said) nice. Since you're going for a feeling of swiftness, I'd probably rephrase the end to be a little smoother: "an arrow just loosed from the bow".

That is actually how I first typed it. The spellchecker told me loosed isn't a word. So I changed it.

I agree with PM here: there is some great potential to make this encounter pretty funny with her trying to be polite and spreading her wings or whatever, and therefore terrifying the poor guy. If you don't want to go that direction, it would probably at least help to make it obvious that the guy is in denial or misunderstands the situation or something. As it reads now, it seems like he's kind of surprised to see a half-deva, but not surprised that such things exist.

This is one of the scenes I plan to rewrite later. A long with the "Holy exposition, Batman!" scene before.

Also, in a guttural voice, I'M BATMAN!

Jessica Chapter 2

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All of your quotes here.

I plan to rewrite a lot of this. Some parts just felt weak to me. Also, I'm expecting a lot of "Telling" in these first drafts. I will replace them with "Showing" in the rewrites. My first draft writings are more instinct and just flows out.

Jessica Chapter 3

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There's no main verb in this sentence! The repeated one doesn't count

This is another one of those weird things my spellchecker does. I don't know why our how, but it happens when I copy and paste it into the forum.

SDT! Hell, you barely need anything; I'm annoyed with him by the time we get here!

Wait a second. Are you thinking the word I'm ... the sentence is missing a subject if you are ... or is it?

There's something wrong with this sentence. I'm not positive what exactly you were going for, but this isn't it.

I remember writing this. It is one of my stumbling blocks where I needed to move forward with the story but couldn't find the words. I needed to move forward because I need the whole story out of me so that I can get to editing and rewriting. I want to make this a complete novel. Might even try to get it published.

How has no one else noticed? I thought her facial scar was "distinctive"?

The chaos in the precinct. No one has time to stop and look right now.

Char: Bio: Jack

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What does that look like?

The closest example; Imagine Spawn's eyes, but white.

Double-sentences.

Spellchecker.

"Now, please try to impress my dad. If he doesn't like you, he'll just send your soul directly to Hell with no trial. I lose more boyfriends that way..."

Jack, "None are worthy of my daughter. I shall see The Nine Hells overflowing with the souls of the unworthy before ..."

Jessica, "FATHER!"

Jack, "I'm sorry, my daughter. Just be careful when you introduce me to your first boyfriend."

how does he not know anything about modern tech?

A recreation of Jack scrying through our plane.

The Airport

Jack, "No devils here."

The Subway

Jack, "No devils here."

New York

Jack, "No devils ... wait ... nope, just a dumb kid with an ugly haircut."

Alien Planets

Jack, "No devils here."

When He Finds a Devil

Teleports. Kills. Returns to scrying. Less than one second.

Jessica Chapter 0

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The prologue here is nice, but frankly I don't know how much it was needed.

The whole thing exists because some people who read it IRL said they wanted a better understanding of her life on the island. It does feel weird and I agree it is unnecessary. I will see how feel when I get to editing.

Jessica Chapter 4

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*deity's (man that word looks stupid )

Welcome to my world. Now I need to figure out the plural possessive. Deities'?

I told myself I wouldn't keep quoting lol-passages, but I can't help myself.

*Points at screen >implying pointing at you*

Don't you dare stop! I need to know what I'm doing right just as much as what I'm doing wrong. Imagine if when I start editing that I might remove something that is good. That would be simply aweful.

It's better than I ever dreamed. This is a wonderful moment. I cannot get over this. It's just... yeah.

Like the moment you are talking about here. I am being honest. I was planning on a rewrite of this. I'm honestly surprised that you like it so much.

Great ending, though I'm left wondering what the officers on the other side of the interrogation window are thinking at this point, lol.

There were no officers on the other side of the window. They would only be present if this was an official interrogation. They are actually hesitant to officially admit that she is present in the building at this moment.

Jessica Chapter 5

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YOU MAY ASK ONLY ONE QUESTION OF THE JANET.

There is no Janet. Only Zuul.

Good one again! Man, you really have been busy the last month or two, haven't you?

Like I said, I'm trying to complete this novel.

MotMS

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Okay, first of all YES! Ahem.

Figured you would say that. You are the one that suggested the premise. I just exercised it into a "Reunion Party", too.

Are you sure he doesn't have a level or two in bard?

I once imagined him with a couple of bard levels. He would play tribal drums by swinging the handle end of his axe like a giant drumstick.

Jessica Chapter 6

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*Misadventures

I'm going to pretend I didn't just misspell the title.

Interrogation rooms are mic'd: why wouldn't everyone else already know about this?

The well funded precincts have mic's built into the interrogation rooms. Lesser funded precincts still have to bring in recording devices. This one is one of the lesser funded varieties.

Unless this is an intentional turn of phrase, the actual charge you're referring to is "drunk and disorderly".

It is a turn of phrase. He is a drunken disorderly. A disorderly drunk.

Looks like you're missing a word.

Not missing word. It is supposed to be "of Buddha." Not *or.

I CAN SHOW YOU THE WOOOORLD!

I don't know if you meant it this way, but I read that as Aladdin singing.

The Hostage

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First of all: I want to establish that this was going to be a one shot. I was inspired by a scene in my favorite TV series Burn Notice. I started to imagine how one of my older DnD character would have approached the scenario and started to realize, "This will make a great snippet."

OH. You should probably mention beforehand that your "target" is not the guy you were previously referring to as your "target". Just saying.

That "OH." tells me I did my job. I wanted you surprised that it was Mister Jefe at this point.

That monstrosity is not a word, and it looks like you mean "A" rather than "I", but that would make this still not a sentence. "I'm wearing", perhaps.

It is supposed to be "A", but the word is supposed to be "utility". It just grew an extra "t" it is not a monster, but be careful with the fire. It is startled easily.

Eh... I don't know about this. So far, our "hero" has been extremely dispassionate, in-control, and efficient. This action stinks of emotion, and it just doesn't seem warranted.

Who said anything about a "hero"?

Um... okay. Maybe there's some emotion here after all? Color me confused. I would have expected some mention of a grudge against Mister Jefe before this. It's a very intense scene here, but I'm just not sure where it came from.

He wants Mister Jefe to know that he is not scared.

I'll admit, given the rest of this snippet, I was hoping for something a little cleverer/more dramatic for the exit strategy.

I got a rewrite in the works where is exit is more clever.

*technomancer, maybe?

Um ... no ... he just really loves technology. Yeah ....

The Interrogation

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By the way, can I just mention that I really enjoy the premise of this little series? Because I do.

Thanks. I don't know how long I plan to keep them running, but I'm enjoying it either way.

Cats are so helpful. This is a pretty funny conversation.

I would have appreciated the conversation better if that cat didn't swear so often. That salty sea cat curses more fluently than the Lethal Weapon movies.

I assume you mean "why the white sheets aren't turning red". Otherwise I'm very confused as to what just happened here.

You assume correctly. I will fix that soon.

Is this an actual character you play? Because oh, man. So much fun.

He is. You meet a recycled NPC version of him in one of Garret's (Wind's) stories. He is an old character, though. I haven't played him in a long time.

lol. I really like this character; I hope you continue with him. Not at the cost of your other story, though. Just make sure you write all the time and never stop, that's all.

Glad you like it ... oh, speaking of which.

Now for a story that would make M. Night jealous.

Wait, don't I hate him right now for he did to Avatar.

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Jessica's Misadventures
in High School

Chapter 7
A Deal with the ...

"Eh, my head!" Michael regains consciousness in a holding cell. The throbbing in his forehead is not his typical hangover. His memory is fragmented, but he can piece enough together to figure out what happened.

He saw a man with one of those expensive tablets. The man was watching the news on it. The story was of an angel. Michael stole the tablet from him so he could watch the whole story. When the police tried to restrain him, he broke the tablet against the table. Michael grabbed a sharp piece of it and used it as a shiv. He took the skinny man hostage.

After that things start to get hazy. He remembers stabbing the skinny man in the neck, and the officer shooting him with the taser. He also remembers seeing the angel in the room and ... she saved the man.

"That was an offering to you," he jumps up from the ground and runs to the closed door. He slams his fist against it. He looks through the small window on the door to see the skinny man having a conversation with an officer down the hall. Michael turns away from the window. His eyes wide, mouth hung open, breathing deeply, he shouts, "OFFERING!"

"Of course she didn't take the offering." A calm voice comes from a shadowy corner of the room. A corner that was a moment before well lit. A man dressed in a pressed tuxedo walks out of the shadows. He carries a black cane, has slicked back hair and well trimmed beard. His skin is tanned dark and his eyes are red. He moves with well practiced posture and makes direct eye contact with Michael.

"Who are you? Where did you come from?" Michael's voice cracks as he speaks and he swallows between questions. He slowly moves to the opposite corner of the room, hugging the wall as he goes.

"You can think of me as your guidance counselor," the well groomed man says, checking his nails as he speaks. "You gave a horrible interview to the angel."

"What do you mean?" Michael responds and moves away from the wall slightly.

"Just look at yourself." The man snaps at him. "You are disgusting. When was the last time you even looked in a mirror?" The man taps his cane on the wall behind him. The wall ripples like water where the cane struck and when it settles it becomes a mirror. The mirror reflects everything in the room except the man in the tuxedo.

Michael slowly approaches the mirror. He moves his hands up to his beard, stained with vomit and blood. His eyes bloodshot and clothes flea ridden. He lets out a scream and shuts his eyes.

"What has become of me?!" Michael falls to his knees.

"There; there." The man in the tuxedo says in a calming voice. "Don't worry. I'm here to help you."

Michael takes a few deep breathes and says, "Thank you, kind sir. You do this old man great honor."

"Now that sounds like the old you. Before you changed your name and took to the bottle."

"I changed my name to honor the Archangels."

"I will be honest with you," the man lays one hand on Michael's shoulder, "It sounds silly. If you want to make a good impression and serve the angel well you will need a name that attracts attention and demands respect."

"Why must I attract attention and respect?"

"You said it yourself. The angel comes to reap the souls of two-thirds the population of the planet. That means one-third must be saved. You must prepare that one-third."

"I see now." Michael gets up to one knee.

"Right now they don't see. You must light their path." The man gestures with his cane.

"I must save them from the coming harvest." Michael stands upright with clenched fists.

"And should you find some wanting along the way, I'm sure the angel wouldn't mind if you made her job easier." The man in the tuxedo summons an ebony dagger from his coat.

"If that is what must be done. I will mourn their passings when the task is complete." Michael opens his hands and accepts the dagger. "What must I do to prepare The Third?"

"Once you have made yourself presentable all you need is within you. The alcohol is what impedes your talent. I want you to channel that young pastor from the south that commanded attention." The man clenches his fist and shakes it to accent those words.

"Yes. I understand, but what name should I take? Should I return to Gilbert?"

"Oh, no!" The man steps back at the name. "I know well the best name for you to take."

"Please! Counsel me! What is my new name?"

"Jack. Son." The man says with a wicked smile.

"I understand. From this day forth," Michael stands upright trying to imitate the tuxedoed man's perfect posture, "I am Pastor Jackson."

Also, as a bonus

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The Modern Bard

The Meeting

"I hate wizards." Though I don't have any other choice. I have exhausted all other leads. The technomancer couldn't give me anything new, and my own digging has led me nowhere. I have no choice but to call in an old favor.

Calling in a favor with wizards is never a good idea. Their ego leads them to believe that their return service is always superior than whatever you did for them. You call in a favor with a wizard and you wind up in debt.

The only thing to make this worse is the meeting place he picked out. I can smell the odor of various junk foods combining together into one putrid stench. I see people walking around in ridiculous costumes. Combine that with the sticky bench, body odor, and noise and this place could pass for one the circles of hell.

Comic-Con.

I can't argue with his reasoning, though. He will definitely blend in.

*****

Our pre-arranged meeting has passed. I'm not surprised. He likes to make sure I'm the one waiting on him. Why should he be prompt anyhow? It's not like I saved his life.

Sure enough, thirty minutes late, I see him walk into the food court. He is dressed in red robes with arcane patterns covering over every inch of it. They match with the tattoos that cover his face and bald head. The wrinkles on his face only make the tattoos look more jagged and menacing.

One thing that does concern me. He brought a friend. A younger man in plain white robes. His hair is long and pulled back into a pony tail. While the red wizard wears a frown that I expect from wizards, his friend wears a smile, which scares me.

"Hey, grandpa! Your cosplay SUCKS!" Some foolish teenager shouts at the red wizard as he passes by.

"Devlin, remind me to turn his car into a pile of dung when we leave," the red wizard says calmly as he looks at the white wizard.

"I'm certain that boy got a ride from his mother, Thazar," Devlin responds without looking, still smiling.

"Then remind me to turn his mother into a pile of dung." Thazar shows a hint of anger that time.

The two wizards approach my table. They know it is me because I told them I would be wearing all green. Excluding the many people dressed in the costumes of green superheroes, I'm the only one dressed in green clothes. They knew I wasn't about to cosplay.

"I thought you would be coming alone." I remain seated and they remain standing. They probably prefer it that way. It makes them easier to look down on me.

"I thought you were well versed in my fields of expertise." Thazar crosses his arms. "Obviously, you were mistaken. Fortunate for me that I know someone well practiced in divination."

Compliments himself and insults me with such precision. He would have made a great bard if he wasn't such an a-hole. "So, who is this friend that deserves such praise from the mighty Thazar de'Haphet?"

"Hardly praise," Thazar retorts before Devlin can even open his mouth. "I merely acknowledged that he has studied extensively one of the more trivial fields of magic. I am sure it has done wonders to help alleviate the suffering of soccer moms everywhere concerned over whether or not their husband is cheating on them."

Devlin takes the insult with a smile and says, "May I see the gun?"

I stand up with a start and eye Thazar, "I didn't tell you the purpose of the meeting."

"What did you expect from a master of divination." Thazar looks at me sideways. "Of course he divined the purpose of the meeting before arriving. It is also impossible to prepare surprise birthday parties for him."

"I was not the one that turned the event into a competition." Devlin still smiles. Not once has the expression dropped. I hope the only reason he is smiling is because that Thazar had to call in a favor of him. At least I'm not the only one to suffer for the deal, but something tells me that is not why he is smiling.

"Your magic is failing if you think I was trying to 'out-wizard' you in preparing the party." Thazar points his finger Devlin. "I was just doing this as a kind gesture. I understand friends do that for each other."

A rather unconvincing lie in my opinion, but could fool some of the more gullible people I know. I would like to call his bluff and make that red wizard squirm some more, but I got business to attend to. I pull out a box and set it on the table.

"The weapon is inside. I just need to know the identities of the previous owners. Any details would be nice, but if you can give me real names, alias, where they live, then I can work from there."

"I will get to it as soon as I can." Devlin takes the box and conceals it beneath his robe.

Another thing I was expecting. Wizards work at their own pace. Most likely he regards his studies and experiments as more important than this favor.

Devlin turns and walks away. Thazar hovers just long enough to say, "You owe us for this."

"I will owe you once you get me some answers." A little motivation for a speedy answer. Thazar only introduced me to his friend, and now I owe them both.

I hate wizards.