The CHALLENGE chugs on!

[Glass Mouse]

Challenge status for the week September 19 - 25!


Glass Mouse passes with 30+ digital drawings.

Lycunadari passes with six pretty nature photos.

LeSwordfish passes with 1267 words of fiction and an entity setup for a TF2 gamemode.

jseah passes with 7654 words of chapter writings.

Some Android passes with a gaboolion life drawings.

Artman77 did not upload/send me anything.

Icewalker will be back on Sunday with two weeks worth of pieces.

Xiander passes with 1562 words for Scarlett's story.


Thus, Artman77 FAILS this round!

Glass Mouse, Lycunadari, LeSwordfish, jseah, Some Android, Icewalker and Xiander PASS this round!


Current standing:

Spoiler

Show

Glass Mouse
Current run: 15 weeks
Longest run: 290 weeks
Themes: -

Lycunadari
Current run: 194 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

LeSwordfish
Current run: 16 weeks
Longest run: 24 weeks
Themes: -

jseah
Current Run: 33 weeks
Longest Run: 33 weeks
Themes: -

Some Android
Current run: 39 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

Artman77
Current run: -
Longest run: 13 weeks
Themes: -

Icewalker
Current run: 9 weeks
Longest run: 13 weeks
Themes: -

Xiander
Current run: 12 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

This week's theme (September 26 - October 2), chosen by Xiander, is birds .

Next week's theme is chosen by me.

[jseah]

I have caught up with my original number!

[Icewalker]

I think I have to drop the week. I could probably still get two weeks worth by next Sunday, but the point of that delay is an upload delay, more than a creation delay (and it's not like I didn't have enough time last week to theoretically get it done). I have to call it a loss, if I'm being honest. I'll get rolling again this week I guess. Dang!

[Xiander]

Man, I thought I'd get farther this week, I have 1509 words, and I stupidly forgot about my own theme, so no birds -_-

Spoiler: Scarlett Twilight part four

Show

The two men were quiet now. Scarlett couldn’t see their faces, but she imagined Leatherface with a smug grin on his face. She could hear some one pacing back and forth, she was willing to bet good money, that it was Baldie.
Focus, She told herself.
Take all the facts, find all the options, pick the best one and find a way to win. That is how we do things… That was what Corax would have said. This time, Scarlett would have to do it alone.
What were the facts?
Fact one: She was alone, and up against several oponents.
At least three people had cooperated to capture her. Leatherface had been waiting on the roof for her. Baldie had lured her here and taken her down once she got inside. And the woman had donesomething to her connection to Corax.
Leatherface’s comment about waiting for the woman to return, told her that she had a small window of opportunity, where she could avoid dealing with all her opponents at once.
But then he had also mentioned the name Cane. Which meant that she was still one against three. This was bad, but still better than one against four.
Fact two: Her opponents were wise to the spirit world.
The symbol on the floor was an occult symbol of some kind, most likely used to cut off her connection to Corax when the command word was spoken. Which madethe woman a capable occultist. This was bad, but on the bright side, the woman wasn’t here now.
The two men however, were both amalgams of some sort. She ransacked her memories for every scrap of knowledge she had ever ignored, when Corax had lectured her on the nature of spirit bonds.
Amalgams came in two flavours. Witches and sorcerers, that much she remembered. Each had strengths and weaknesses, each had signs which would give them away to the careful observer. What the pit were the signs again?
Scars, she thought. One of them tended to have scars or misformations. But was it the which or the sorcerer? Why had she never paid more attention to Corax and his lectures?
Sorcerers tended to be flashy and destructive with their powers. Witches were more subtle, often completely unremarkable when they used their power. She’d seen both men fling power, but she wasn’t sure if it told her anything.
Enough guessing based on half remembered Corax lectures.
Fact three: Each of her opponents had their sepparate plans and motives.
Leatherface seemed to just want money. While Baldie had some anger issues and a grudge. Why did he want to hurt her so much? Maybe that was a relevant question, but she had no answer right now. The woman was still somewhat an unknown factor, but then she wasn’t here.
If she was fighting Baldie and Leatherface, knowing that the two of them did not see eye to eye was important.
Then of course, there was the Cane character, who seemed to side with Leatherface. Another unknown factor.
Fact four: They had known she was comming.
This was important, Leatherface had been waiting for her on the roof. He had spoken as if he had expected her. She suspected that Baldie falling right into her lap earlier had all been a part of their plan.
But how had they known she would be looking for baldie? Good question, but not relevant for now. Find a way out of this bind, then speculate on how she had ended here afterwards.
Fact five: Her hands were tied, her knife had probably been taken, she had no idea where Corax was, and there was no other allies she could draw on.
She would have to work with what little information she had, and that would be a dangerous preposition. She needed some leverage, and taking them by surprise was not going to cut it.
With those facts established and no real alternative, she decided to give up the element of surprise, to try and get at bit more information.
Very carefully, she let out a groan, pouring as much hurt and pain into it as she could. She rolled onto her back and blinked her eyes open.
The firs thing she saw was the man, whose boots had been in view earlier. It was leatherface, he was sitting on top of a wooden crate, his booted feet dangling just over the floor. He was wearing a smug smile. And he was cleaning his dirty nails with Scarletts dagger.
So her dagger had been taken.
On her left side, Baldie spun on his heel to face her. An angry sneer spilled onto his face.
“The witch is awake.” He growled, sadistic pleasure spilling into the words.
“That she is.” Leatherface smirked. “But she is still confined and i have her little weapon.”
He dangled the knife in front of him with a self satisfied smile. Scarlett felt a severe urge to strangle the bastard.
Baldie took three long strides, to stand at the edge of the silver circle and glare hatefully down at her. The hate that she felt towards leatherface for taunting her paled in comparison to the sheer malice, which radiated of Baldie in her direction. What the pits had she ever done to this guy?
“She isn’t all that scary now.” There was a mean sort of humor in the big man’s voice. “I could just snap her neck, like a ****ing chicken.”
“You could.” Leatherface agreed. “But you really shouldn’t.”
Baldie turned to him, with a grim look in his eyes.
“Why the **** not?”
Leatherface just smiled at the other man, not even bothering to answer. Instead, the answer came from behind a pile of crates.
A low growl echoed out of the shadows, and a set of red eyes appeared, quickly followd by the shape of a large black dog. The animal stalked silently out of the darkness, baring it’s teeth in a menacing expression.
Baldie instinctively turned towards the dog, and Scarlett caught a slight hint of apprehention in his manner. The big man talked a tough game, but he did not want to get in a fight with this nightmare of a dog.
Leatherface on the other hand did not as much as titch at the appearance of the creature. He calmly returned to cleaning out his nails. He did keep an eye on baldie though.
Baldie stepped away from the circle, making an iritated gesture with his hands. And immediately, the dog stopped snarling. Much calmer now, the creature padded over to leatherface, who stopped cleaning his nails, and scratched the creature on the head, with the hand not holding the dagger.
Scarlett took a wild stab in the dark and concluded that the monster dog must be Cane. Now at least she knew who she was fighting. And she knew she had to act soon, before the woman returned with reinforcements.
But she wasn’t ready to strike yet, she still needed something more. An ace of some sort. She had already shown them that she was awake, she might as well ask them for some help now.
“Hey Baldie?” She said as calmly as she could manage. “What the pit is your problem with me?”
Baldie spun around to face her, Leatherface and Cane forgotten i the blink of an eye.
“Shut up witch.” He snarled. “Or I’ll jam my fist so far down your throat…”
“Now now.” Leatherface cut in, in an amused tone. “Treat out guest with a bit of respect.”
Baldie fumed with anger. Wether it was anger at whatever slight Scarlett had done against him, or simply at being cut off, was unclear. For a long moment words failed him. Then he spat at the floor in front of her and faced leatherface again.
“Shut up you little prick.” He growled. “I agreed to play by your rules and not tear her ****ing head off, but I’ll speak to her however the **** I want.”
Leatherface opened his mouth, but Scarlett cut in before he could speak.
“At least tell me what i did to make you this angry.” She spoke the words in a smug voice, with more confidence than she felt.
Pissing him off was a dangerous gamble, but if Leatherface could live up to his own selfconfidence, she migh be able to get the two to slug it out, and save her the trouble of fighting at all.
Baldies reaction was different than she expected. Suddenly his rage turned cold. It did not disappear, rather it turned into something much more dangerous than the explosive moods he had shown until now. He turned silently, and stared at her again.
“You killed my brother, witch.” He whispered, and somehow the whisper was worse than all of his shouting. He was out for blood, out for revenge. And he did not seem the type to settle for half measures.
Something clicked in Scarletts head. They kept calling her witch. This seemed important. Maybe it was just an insult, but that didn’t seem right.

[Some Android]

Got my art up.

[Icewalker]

Ewww not a good two weeks. I have to get back in the swing of things.

Not a terrible two weeks either: I mapped out the scene-by-scene of the entire rest of the book, which was a rather complicated scheme that needed doing, but I did not get as much actual writing done in words as I would have liked, after getting caught up in some editing as well. All in all, I could argue some kind of case for 1500, but I'm not going to. Writing includes some rereading and editing, and if I'm going to make real progress, setting a precedent for weaseling my way out of 1500 words/week isn't going to help. I wrote about 800 new words, it's midnight, and I'm just going to go ahead and call that a failed week.

[LeSwordfish]

I wrote a battle report, which is somehow 1853 words.

[jseah]

1900 words for Hero's War

Spoiler

Show

Morey waved to the cheering crowd lining the street. One town freed from their oppressors, the local Lawi was killed in the savage night fighting and by morning, the town was firmly in the hands of the ISL. With a single decapitation strike, the ISL had laid claim to the area and kicked off the actual rebellion.
Most of the knights had woken up to a new world that day and wisely decided not to interfere. Some even joined up.
And now it was nearly a week afterwards, with the rebel zone of control spreading to the neighbouring villages. This town was the most friendly to the ISL and the population was almost pathetically eager to join. They all seemed to believe the Hero could bring them all to victory with ease. Morey wasn't sure what would happen when the true reality of the fighting sunk in.
"Come in," he said, turning away from the window to face the door.
The man entered his room and presented a stack of letters. "Communication from the neighbouring town," he said.
Morey opened the top one from a cell on the other side of Illastein, weeks old news by now. It spoke of the Wiis cracking down on dissent and banning the presses. Old news indeed.
The next letter was from the capital itself. Two rebel cells had been found and the people tortured publicly. Purges of anyone daring to speak out or even act as if they were friendly to slaves. That didn't help of course, dissenters were multiplying like weeds and there were so many people claiming to be ISL when they really weren't that the real rebels had some camouflage.
Morey sighed heavily. Such things were heavy news but he had already seen the result of the purge in his local area, and knew what it would do from the perspective of Earth's history. The vicious tyranny only invited further anger and resentment. Eventually...
He broke open the third letter, dated just three weeks ago. From an old friend, Alawi Zain's territory, of course. The Alawi was brutal in his crackdown, with mass arrests and executions. His territory had devolved into an open riot that the ISL couldn't not control. The protestors were armed, but not enough to win a battle with the Alawi's knights. At the time of the letter, the fighting had been going on for days and the knights were now firing spellstorms into any crowd that dared to gather. But young men and women with nothing left to lose built bootleg wands in their backyards, and were killed as they fought hopelessly. Their friends and relatives then continued the cycle of anger, the city spiraling down into an orgy of violence and death.
Thousands dead, more property burned and the city tearing itself apart. It was all a pattern Morey had seen before, because it had happened in this very town. Until Morey had said enough and lead the ISL on their strike.
And now he was stuck with a rebellion that was not as well armed as he wanted.
Morey sighed again. The time delay of the ISL letters was like a a time lapse of events throughout the country. He could see a similar progression everywhere. Some areas were more stable, others less. One group of villages had even rebelled on their own, the local ISL killing their governing Wii and kicking out the knights.
To be honest, Morey wasn't sure he was the one who was truly responsible. Resentment at the economic oppression and slavery was already there, the spreading of magical knowledge and how to make wands and other weapons might have been enough to cause widespread rioting. The story of the girl who died in that warehouse might have just been the final spark. Maybe more of the responsibility of the coming slaughter lay at Cato's feet than his own.
... Nah, who was he kidding? Morey started this, he would have to take responsibility for it.
He read the last letter and nodded to himself.
"Nal," Morey called as he left the room, "how goes the preparations?"
Nal looked up from her desk where she was reading yet another report scribbled on tree bark. "We're ready, four hundred soldiers and weapons and food. If they give us another two weeks, Arain village has another fifty more arriving. "
"They'll have to join the next supply train as guards," Morey said, "the Alawi Zain is raising mercenaries to crush the riots in his city. Since he has kindly given us a target, we'll take a shot. "
A worried look on her face was quickly concealed.
"Don't worry, we'll win this. They can't have as many weapons as we have, we have everyone giving us magic for Locoss's magic circles. We even have spell cannons. And Zain has to split his forces to cover the city or our ISL there will overthrow him. "
"I know, but I still sometimes worry if this is the right thing for us to do," Nal muttered.
Morey went to her and patted her shoulder. He hoped it was reassuring anyway. "Ending the horror of slavery is the right thing to do. And even if you think otherwise, we're in this too deep to back out now. "
She stood close to him, biting her lip. Then she nodded and leaned on him, her head barely coming up to his shoulder. "All right, I'll trust that you know what you're doing. "
Morey held her for a few moments longer than necessary. Nal always liked to project an aura of knowing all the answers but right now, she was looking unusually fragile. Was this just another act of hers?
The Hero put idle thoughts aside. There was a battle to fight.

The woman driving the cart up the palace gates looked just like any other merchant. With her cloak drawn around her, the two Rekis plodded their way up to the gates. The only thing out of place was the copious quantities of magical power contained in the covered cart, but that wasn't too unlikely given how weapons were being stockpiled by all the nobles.
"Halt, show your identification," the knight guarding the post raised a hand lazily as the cart approached the small entrance cut into the main structure of the closed wooden and iron doors.
She nodded at him expressionlessly as her cart drew up in front of him. Then the woman put a hand under her cloak and drew out a short barrelled gun. Before he could even react, she pulled the trigger and blew off his head.
To their credit, the rest of the guards were shocked for less than a breath. But that was long enough for the woman to whip the Rekis into a headlong charge towards the wooden and iron gate of the Rawi's palace.
A few of the knights managed to pull of weak disruption bolts but the woman merely threw up her cloak, sending a wave of magical power outwards and sweeping aside the attacks. Incoherent shouts and demands to halt went unheeded.
"For freedom and the ISL!"
Her shout drew attention from across the street, just before the Rekis charging at the gate instinctively swerved aside at the last moment, sending the heavily laden cart careening into the gate doors. Crushed against the gate by her own cart, the woman gave one last savage grin at the knights rushing towards her before releasing the dead man's switch clutched in her other hand.
Three steel staffs buried in the cart suddenly exploded into a ball of magical fire, and that touched off another six barrels half-filled with low quality black powder. Bags of iron scrap positioned strategically around the barrels scythed outwards in all directions. Men and women screamed as the shrapnel tore their flesh to ribbons. A gaping hole was punched through the gate doors by the shockwave.
For a few seconds, there was nothing but screams of the wounded and dying. Shocked by the audacity of the attack, the nearby pedestrians and what remained of the guards just stared on dumbly. There was nothing remaining of the woman. Bits of her cart were scattered all over the street and the two Rekis pulling it had been reduced to lumps of minced meat.
Slowly, with great ponderousness, the two halves of the ruined gate doors crashed inwards to the Rawi's courtyard.
And then the chaos started.

ISL Manifesto
It is clear to anyone with any sense of compassion, honour and intelligence that the current system of slavery is self defeating, self serving and self destructive. It falls to all good people to resist and abolish this unethical practice that is destroying our land, our businesses and our lives.
Chief among reasons is simple heart. A system of slavery is inherently cruel. Not just to those unfortunate people caught by the slave holders. The very people who own slaves are themselves victims of this economic order. All of us can recall the Lawi and Alawis who own thousands of slaves, but the vast majority of slaves are held in bondage singly. Owners, shopkeepers and even common people.
But the economic order of slave holding requires an engine of debt to keep a stream of victims flowing. Everyone knows how the debt is forced on those who need none, including the very people who own slaves! Take away the debt and there will be no more slaves to sell. The system only favours those at the top of the structure: the slavers and the aristocrats.
Thus we see that slavery chokes the life out our commerce. The system of debt is abused to leech the life out of us, bleeding away our work for the benefit of the creditors and preventing any from challenging the order. Why have we not moved beyond our outdated system of selling expensive goods to the fat Lawis and nothing to the rest? Why have we not become rich like those of our neighbours in the Inath Federation? Because of this system!
Knowing this, all good men and women must rise up to overthrow the old order and replace it with an equitable new. Such is the goal of the ISL. Such is the goal of people of Illastein who yearn for freedom. Such should be your goal.

- Further addition to the copy of the ISL manifesto, written in a different hand. Found in the home of the first recorded suicide bomber in Illastein
Many of you question the need for force, the need to fight and die for the change. I ask you now, how have the people in power kept their boots on our necks? This system of slavery is enforced by power. People like us have no voice and no hope. Our mothers are taken to be playthings, our fathers worked to the bone. Our husbands beaten and broken. Our sons and daughters orphaned.
They shall not take my life from me. I will take their life from them first. Though I may die tomorrow, countless brothers and sisters shall follow my footsteps to strike them down. We will become an endless army that will bleed their life unto the ground. A deathless army.
We are given the tools. We are given the opportunity. Our Illastein needs you.
And so I go without fear.

[Glass Mouse]

Challenge status for the week September 26 - October 2!


Glass Mouse passes with a dozen digital drawings, including a bird-riding fey.

Lycunadari passes with four nature photos and two inktober drawings.

LeSwordfish passes with 1853 words of battle report

jseah passes with 1900 words for Hero's War.

Some Android passes with a modest-to-holy**** amount of life drawings.

Artman77 did not upload/send me anything (again).

Icewalker didn’t quite make it this week.

Xiander passes with 1509 words of Scarlett Twilight writing.


Thus, Artman77 and Icewalker FAIL this round!

Glass Mouse, Lycunadari, LeSwordfish, jseah, Some Android, and Xiander PASS this round!


Current standing:

Spoiler

Show

Glass Mouse
Current run: 16 weeks
Longest run: 290 weeks
Themes: 1 week

Lycunadari
Current run: 195 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

LeSwordfish
Current run: 17 weeks
Longest run: 24 weeks
Themes: -

jseah
Current Run: 34 weeks
Longest Run: 33 weeks
Themes: -

Some Android
Current run: 40 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

Artman77
Current run: -
Longest run: 13 weeks
Themes: -

Icewalker
Current run: -
Longest run: 13 weeks
Themes: -

Xiander
Current run: 13 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

This week's theme (October 2 - 8), chosen by me, is Distance.

Next week's theme is chosen by LeSwordfish - let me know in PM or this thread, and I'll include it in the next status.

---

I have caught up with my original number!

And now you have surpassed it! Good job

Ewww not a good two weeks. I have to get back in the swing of things.

Ah, that sucks, but we all know how it goes. How was the wedding, though?

[Icewalker]

Ah, that sucks, but we all know how it goes. How was the wedding, though?

Incredible! Best friend and I snuck into the wedding couple's room when they were out to dramatically leave their wedding presents for them to find later (a bow and original family heraldry from him, a pair of masks from me), I lost a wrestling contest, and then was unrelatedly a cause of, significant impediment to, and participant in an impromptu play dramatically retelling the tale of a quest to recover a stolen rope, and then I wandered around in the woods until like 4 AM talking about mostly Evangelion with a friend I haven't seen in a couple years. Among other unexpected adventures on the way both to and from the event.

...it was quite a weekend.

[Some Android]

Got my art up.

[Xiander]

This week was a pretty productive one on my part. I wrote something every day and ended up with 3512 words, finishing the first draft of my Scarlett story.
I worked on an other project as well, but it did not get ready to reveal yet, maybe next week

Spoiler: Scarlett, final part

Show

She didn’t have time to puzzle that out now, with baldie glaring death in her general direction. Had she really killed his brother? She had killed enough amalgams that it was hard to say.
Time for another gamble. Lets see if Leatherface is good to his word.
“My apologies,” She said and forced herself to smirk. “When did this happen? It’s so hard to remember these days.”
“Four years ago.” Baldie ground out between clenched teeth. “I watched you stab him and try to leave. And when I tried to stop you, you gave me this.”
He ran two fingers over the scar. And Scarlett remembered. There had been two young men messin with some sort of hunger spirit. Corax had insisted that only one of them was a problem, so they had taken down the olde of the boys.
Baldie had seemed much younger back then, and he had hair too. But now, looking at his face, imagining a wound where the scar was, she remembered. Most of the time, the immages of people you stab while looking in their eyes stay forever.
“Well I am sorry,” She bulled on. “But your brother should have known better than to hitch up with a spirit. And you should have stayed out of my way.”
Baldie lost it at that comment.
With a furious roar, he moved forward, about to step into the circle, when Cane hit him form the side, pushing him off balance and forcing him to step back.
Baldie regained his balance and faced the dog with that same cold sneer. Cane placed itself between Baldie and the circle, teeth bared in a primal growl.
Leatherface’s ugly mug appeared in her field of vision. His mouth was open in an ugly grin, her dagger dangled loosely in one of his hands.
“I know what you’re trying to do whitch.” He winked at her. “Play us against each other, make us fight.”
Scarlett shrugged as if it hadn’t crossed her mind. Her thoughts were racing through her head now, taking in all the knew facts and judging whether now was the time to act.
Leatherface was less than five feet from her, and he had the dagger. If she could get her hands on that, she would have a chance to fight.
Cane and Baldie was still facing of, neither yielding an inch. She just needed to take Leatherface down, while her hands were tied and he was armed with her weapon.
“It’s not going to work.” Leatherface mocked. “Even if me and the big guy slug it out, on of us will win. If you’re lucky, me and Cane triumph and we sell you off and split the profit with the woman. If you’re unlucky the brute comes out on top, kills you twice and dump the corpse in the gutters.”
Baldie made a sound like a ketle boiling. Cane answered with a long low growl. And Leatherface kept on mocking her.
“You are all alone little witch.” He was really enjoying this. “I have your little weapon. And your familiar has been locked away from you, and from it’s link to this place. No one is comming to help you.”
Aside from leatherface’s obvious glee at playing with his prey, his words made another thing fall into place. Her familiar, he said. Little witch. That was it! Whitches had familiars. Corax would always tell her to spot the familiar. If it was there it was a witch.
Another Corax lecture played through he mind. Witches draw their power from their familiars, familiars draw their power from the witch. Kill one and the other is weakened. Banish the spirit and the witch is just a man. Kill the witch and the spirit has no anker to the world and will lapse back into the spirit realm.
She had never thought of herself as a witch. But it all fit, Corax was tha familiar and she was the witch. Only now the bond was obstructed, so Corax had probably lapsed back.
But this revelation let to the next. She knew what Baldie and Leatherface was, she knew their weaknesses. She knew how to beat them.
“... won’t get to have some fun with you myself.” Leatherface seemed almost regretful as he finished the sentence. Scarlett hadn’t payed attention to the start. He kept talking, now more upbeat. “But the price money will buy me all the fun I need.”
His foultoothed smile was wicked. Meanwhile Baldie had backed a couple of steps away, still scowling at her direction. Cane gave no indication of relaxing.
There was a fragile balance here, force matched against force, achieving eqilibrium. Time to throw some chaos into the equation and see how things worked out.
Scarlett wormd herself closer to Leatherface. Giving him a conspirational look.
“Why are you working with that moron anyways?” She nodded towards Baldie.
“We have a common interest.” Leatherface smirked.
“We both want you ****ing dead.” Baldie snarled.
“No you don’t.” Scarlet kept her voice from trembling, just barely. She had no idea if this would work.
“What?” Baldie blurted.
He was about to step forward, but Cane bared his teeth and the large man hesitated.
Leatherface tilted his head and looked at her curiously, not speaking a word.
“He want’s me dead.” she nodded towards Baldie, then looked Leatherface straight in the eyes. He was right in front of her now. “You just want me out of your hair, and you don’t mind getting payed for it.”
“True.” Leatherface showed his teeth in a grim smile. “Luckily those two can be combined.”
“I have a different offer for you.” It was Scarlett’s turn to smirk now, even if she was just putting on a show.
“What can you offer me, from your current position?” Leatherface chuckled wryly.
“Don’t listen to the bitch.” Baldie snarled. “She’s tricking you, moron.”
“A deal.” Scarlett spoke as confidently as she could manage. “Help me out of this place, and I’ll share my turf with you. Help you operate even. We can share the bounties from the benefactor.”
At this Baldie lost it. He bulled forward, ignoring Cane and going straight for Scarlett. The monster dog intercepted him and sank sharp canines into his leg. Baldie let out a shout and kicked furiously at the dog with his free leg.
Leatherface shifted his eyes towards the brawl, taking his focus off Scarlett.
She rolled onto her back and launched a kick at the hand, which held her knife. She felt her foot connect and the weapon sailed through the air, over her head, and landed behind her, within the circle.
She scrambled towards it as fast as possible with her hands tied. Leatherface stepped forward drawing in power for an attack, and stepped over the thin silver line.
Scarlett had only heard the word of power once, but she had a good ear for these things. Words of power were important, and Corax har insisted that she should be able to repeat them to him perfectly whenever she heard them.
Now she spoke the occult word, which the woman had uttered earlier to cut off her connection to Corax. The effect was immediate.
Cane shuddered and went limp. Leatherface’s face went ashen. Scarlett could see that he was still trying to draw power, but no wave of nausea hit her, no power came. The witch had been cut off from his familiar, and was without his power.
Baldie didn’t hesitate. He yanked his leg out of Cane’s jaw and sent the dog to the floor with another kick. Leatherface turned to face him, mouth open to shout something. But Baldie had evidently had enough of that partnership.
A sphere of cracling green energy shot from the large man’s hands and took Leatherface in the chest. The smaller man was flung off his feet and landed in a limbless pile. Cane whimpered and collapsed.
Butterflies fluttered in scarletts stomach. She always got butterflies when she was fighting, what the pit was up with that.
First part of the plan had worked, but now she was alone in a closed room with an angry sorcerer, who wanted her dead. And her hands were still tied. No time to celebrate now.
She flung herself forward and reached the dagger, her fingers closed about it, but there was no way she could wield it with her hands constrained.
With a sneer, Baldie let anoth green orb fly. Scarlett tossed herself into a roll. And the orb impacted the floor where she had just been.
“Your aim is even worse than your brother’s was.” She taunted as she gained her feet, trying desperately to use the dagger to free her hands.
Baldie roared. A primal furious roar. And the air around him shimmered with green energy. He was gathering enough power to wipe every trace of her from the face of the city.
She dashed forward, getting distance between them. His attacks were powerful, and dangerous. But she had figured out their weakness. Even if he could kill her with a single orb, he still had to hit.
As an orb the size of her head soared from his fists, Scarlett threw herself out of the circle and behind a large crate. Cracking and splintering sounds echoed around the room, as the orb hit a wall instead of killing her.
Baldie was sounding like an angry bull now. No inteligible words left his lips. Behind the crate Scarlet managed to cut her hands free, and she hefted the dagger in her left hand.
She could feel the odds changing. All she needed now was a bit of time.

Baldie rounded the corner of the crate, green light dancing at his fingertips. He let a spear of enrgy fly, the moment he had a clear line of fire.
But Scarlett wasn’t there.
She had moved silently through the low gloom of the room and now perched behind a different stack of crates.
“You should really take the time to aim.” She mocked him. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”
Baldie stomped towards her hidingplace, growling sounds rolling out of his htroat as he went.
Again, she moved. Making distance and seeking a new spot to hide. She ducked behind a crate, stopped to listen for baldie, then moved on.
She crept out from her hiding place heading for the next safe spot, and found herself face to face with the huge form of the sorceror. He must have gussed her path and moved like hell to intecept her.
Smoke and fire.
She lashed out with the knife, and drew a wound across his right shoulder. He didn’t even seem to notice. His eyes were burning with a fury so deep she thought it might devour her right then.
Green light flew from his fingertips. Her arm went numb and her dagger clattered to the floor.
Baldi reached for her with one hand, but she quickly deflected the approach. His answer was a lefthanded punch to her gut. She gasped for aur, as his right hand closed around her neck.
“This is much better.” Baldie growled. “I get to strangle you with my own hands, just as i wanted.”
Scarlett’s mind raced as he squesed her throat. She was so close, but her weapon had failed, and he had her. He could have killed her already, but he hadn’t. There was one last thing she could try.
She pictured a bird. A huge black pressence filled her conciousness, the darkest meanest bird she had ever imagined.
And she felt power surging through her.
She opened her eyes and glared straigt into Baldie’s, letting the power flow out of her and into him.
His eyes widenened, his grasp slakened and he took half a step back. His hate and fury was warring for control angainst the dark primal fear she had sent into him.
Fear won.
He let go of her neck, sweet air filled her lungs again. And he backpedalled, panicky unsure steps carrying him away from her as fast as he could manage.
“What are you?” He choked out.
Scarlett knelt to pick up her dagger.
“Funny,” She smirked at him. “Your brother asked that same question.”
The mention of the brother must have triggered something in him. She could see in his face, how he pushed the fear back, and the anger blossomed up again. Green light sparkled in his hands.
Then there was the sound of wings.
A whole flock of crows swarmed into the building through the holes in the broken roof. They decended on Baldie, like they would on a day-old corpse. He screamed both in anger and fear and lances of green death sprang from him. The birds were to fast for him though, gracefully avoiding his clumsy attacks.
“Took you long enough.” Scarlett said to no one in particular.
“The bond was broken.” Said Corax in her mind. One huge black bird had sttled a little way away from the swarm around Baldie, and Scarlett knew that this was Corax’ physical form. “I dared not enter the building without backup. It took some time to find help.”
Baldie roared furiously, and a green bolt lanced out to strike one of the ravens from the air. The rest still hounded him relentlessly.
“We better clean up here.” Scarlett said smirking.
“Indeed.” Corax agreed.
The bird let out a deep resonating sound. It was a sound birds normally only made in nightmares. Power surged from Corax and into Scarlett. It bubbled and splashed against the inside of her mind, and se poured it out of her consciousness, before the burning sensation could overcome her senses.
As the power flooded out from her, it found the flock of birds swarming over baldie and sunk into them. Each one became a totem, holding the terrifying power of Corax.
Baldie’s hate fuelled courage failed him, when faced with the swarm of primal fear. The crackling of energy around him evaporated and he scrambled backwards. He tripped and almost fell, but regained his ballance and fled towards the door.
Scarlett stalked after him, slipping into the darkness. Silently she followed him, watching his panicked flight. She saw his terror at the cloud of black feathers, and his relief when he saw the door, which lead to the street.
Then she struck.
Emerging from the shadows, she brandished her dagger and tore a dep wound in the back of Baldies leg. With a scream he toppled forward, falling to his hands and knees.
Black shapes perched all around him, with Corax settling right in front of him. A pannicked whine escaped his throat, he had lost the will to fight. Suck was the power of Corax.
Scarlett stepped forward, grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking him to a kneeling position. With a swift motion, she drew the dagger across his throat, spilling his lifeblood over the stone floor.

************************************************** ****

She Left the burned out building as soon as she had looked through the two dead men’s pockets. Both had a considerable amount of kiln in their purses and She could return later for the silver in the floor.
This whole fiasco hadn’t been a total waste then, but for now, she needed to disappear before the woman returned with reinforcements.
“You did well.” Corax voice spoke straight into her head. Long ago, that had been strange and scary, now he was a calming pressence. She felt safer with his voice in her head.
“Not going to lie.” She whispered. “I wasn’t sure I would make it this time.”
Her neck was bruising where Baldie had gotten a grip on her, and she had a terrible headache.
“But you did.” Corax stated this plainly, it was not a praise, but rather a simple fact. “Using the warlock’s circle against the witch was inspired.”
“It worked pretty well.” She agreed. “But we aren’t done with this yet.”
“Why not?” Corax sounded confused. “Both amalgams are dead. The walock seems to only know how to fight witches. What more do we need to do?”
“We need to figure out who set us up.”
“Up?” Corax soared a bith higher as he projected the word into her head.
“The whole thing was a trap.” Scarlett wondered how a spirit as old and clever as Corax could be so naive. “Someone warned them that we would come, and they knew how to find us.”
“Who?”
“I think I know.”

************************************************** ******

She found Felix in an alley.
He was walking home through the nighttime city, and had cut through the narrow passage to save a little time. This suited Scarlett just fine.
The small man moved nerveously through the darkeness, his eyes focused completely on the end of the alley, and the percieved safety it provided. He did not notice her. Not until she tapped his shoulder gently.
He let out a small shriek and whirled to face her. His eyes widened with surprise, maybe even terror. Then he cleared his throat.
“S-scarlett?” He stammered. “To what circumstance do I owe this delightful surprise.”
“Shut up Felix.” Scarlett purred. “Did you really think those three amateurs could take me down?”
There was no sense in telling felix how close Baldie had come to succeeding. Or that the woman had gotten away scott free.
“I-i don’t know what you mean.” Felix’s voice was shaking.
“Felix, Felix, Felix.” She whispered, shaking her head gently. “The big bald guy you tell me about happen to walk right past me in broad daylight. I follow him to an obvious hideout. the three moron’s lie in wait for me with some sort of magic circle all set up. At sompoint it stops seeming like a coincidence.”
“They were expecting you?” He made a decent show of being surprised. “How did you manage to escape?”
“Just drop the act little man.” She produced her dagger with a flick of her wrist. “Someone had to tip them off. And you were the only one who knew what bounty I was after.”
“Now Scarlett.” His voice was a fearful whine at this point. “Don’t so anything we will both regret.”
“Tell me the truth Felix.”
“I will. Pleas just put away the knife.”
She lowered the weapon to her side.
“It was the woman.” He spoke fast, stumbling over the words. “She approached me and asked about you. I told her you were my client. She offered me a mad amount of Kiln to feed you the information I gave you. That’s all I know. I swear.”
“Really?” She lifted the Dagger again, stepping closer to him.
This was more than he could handle. He spun around and set off at a sprint towards the exit from the alley. Scarlett followed at a run. She wa not worried about the little man getting away.
He emerged from the alley looking around panicky, desperately seeking an escape. What he found instead was a big black bird perched in front of him.
Scarlett felt the power surge through her, like water running over a riverbed. She couldn’t stop Corax from sending pure primal fear straight into Felix’ mind.
The little man froze. For one long moment he stood motionless, just staring at Corax. Then he spran into action darting away in a random direction.
Scarlett followed, but she never quite caught him.
The road they had emmerged onto from the ally, was a narrow walkway with a steep fall on one side. Felix reached the edge befor Scarlett reached Felix.
He gave a screech like some kind of bat as he plummeted to the ground far below.
Scarlett stood there for a while looking down a her former informant. He would be found in the morning, and the Guards would come and declare him just “another jumper”.
Which was tecnically correct.
She turned her back on the ledge, and on the remains of Felix. She had gotten out of this mess pretty well, but it wasn’t over yet.
“Something bothers me.” She murmured.
“What?” Corax’ voice ecchoed in her mind.
“These people where after me. Not any witch, me specifically.”
“And now they are dead.”
“Not all of them.”
“The little warlock is hardly a threat on her own.”
“She won’t be on her own. She wasn’t this time.”
The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Leatherface and Baldie had been thugs. Not even particularly smart thugs. It stood to reason that the plan had been hatched by someone else. The woman was the most likely suspect.
But why?
Money was the most obvious answer, but Scarlett suspected something else at play. She had been hunting witches and sorcerers for five years now.
Finally someone had decided they needed her out of the way. But why now?
“No matter,” Corax cawed. “We sill deal with her thugs, like we did this time. Put fear into their very souls.”
“She might come for us again.” Scarlett whispered. “With another trap.”
“Then we find her first.” Corax concluded.
They fell silent, as they moved through the nightshrouded city of CastaLéon.

[Icewalker]

1700something words of Reliquary. This section is going to be interesting and high intensity stuff, but it looks like I'm having some arranging problems, some bits of it are already feeling awkward. It's probably because I'm suddenly jumping perspective to new people, and I ought to try to not do that, which is going to take some rewriting and cutting.

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“We’re inside,” Marius voice crackled out of the radio in Alex’s hand. “Security is exactly as we mapped it so far. What do you see?”
“Everything looks normal from up here too.” Alex cycled through the views of several security cameras while Jessica paged through printouts of the paths and timing the guards were supposed to take on their rounds. “Hey, Alex, go back to that other camera. In that big room.”
“Line 17?
“The one with the animal skeleton in it.”
Alex flipped back. Jessica checked something on her phone. “Hah! That’s totally a Smilodon. Awesome.”
“Jessica,” Alex chided, “this is important.”
“Sorry. The guard’s not walking by, see? Should be in there by now.”
“Hey yeah, you’re right.”
“Try the previous camera,” Glass pointed to the map, “Another security guard’s path crosses his right there, I’ll bet that’s where he stopped.”
“Looks like it.” Alex raised the radio again, “Hey Marius, guard’s feeling chatty, he’s gonna be slow on his route. You’re going to have to tighten your timing a bit on this next part. We’ve got about an hour and a half before Drake should be arriving.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I don’t need you, and you’re not going.”
“Like hell you don’t,” Mary growled. “You couldn’t even figure out which way was north in the blueprints without my help.”
“Be quiet.” She shut her mouth. “Crow knows the plans just as well as you do. Don’t you worry, I’ll find something for you to do, to make sure you learn your place around here.” Drake motioned across the room. “Zoe. Come on. Time to change who runs this city.”

“Uh, Marius.”
“What?”
“We have a problem.”
“What kind of problem, Alex.”
“An idiot with a relic kind of problem. Drake is here early. And he brought friends.”
“Anybody we know?”
“Yeah, unfortunately. Crow is with him.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Get off the roof. Now.”




Evan scratched nervously at his recently tattooed back, to Zoe’s dismay. “Julian the security plans said we shouldn’t move for another hour.” The museum space was eerie at night, a vast cavern of marble illuminated with a strange half-light alien to the normally bright public space. Sounds echoed back as if the museum wanted to pretend it was full of people.
“Like a security guard is going to stand in my way,” Drake scoffed. “We go when I say we do. And I say we go.”
Zoe trailed at the back of the group. Crow seemed to be doing the same, arms crossed, snide indifference in his posture. She flexed her fingers, loosening up her wrists. She was only going to have one shot at this, and she had to make it count. It wasn’t the right time. Not yet. Stick to Mary’s plan.
“Hey! Excuse me!” A middle aged man with an ugly beard and a boring uniform trotted towards Drake. “The museum is closed, you can’t be here! The door should’ve been locked…” His voice sputtered out as his eyes fell on the assembly of people and monsters at Drake’s heels.
“It was.” With a curt gesture from its creator, the inky wolf slammed the man to the ground, its teeth leaving thick black ink marks that quickly mixed together with fresh red. Zoe felt bile in her throat. She grit her teeth, unable to intervene.
“Come on, you all know the map,” Drake said calmly, stepping over the bleeding man. “Second floor storage rooms.”

“I’m going.” Glass was already jogging back towards the building from the parking lot.
“You can’t!” Greyscale blood pooled on Alex’s computer screen. “The Cockroach is probably on his way here!”
Glass didn’t slow down. “That man is going to die if he doesn’t get help and an ambulance, and soon.”
It was the right thing to do. Jessica stood up, legs stiff. “I’m going too.”
Alex stared after them as they ran towards the building, and spoke into the radio in her hand. “Marius, we’re going in to help the security guard Drake took down. I’ll do my best to keep them away from Roach or the Combs.” She swiped her laptop from the ground and followed.
The doors Drake had entered through had been ripped open. Jessica stopped to catch her breath. Glass had already disappeared in front of her, showing an endurance (or perhaps determination) beyond what Jessica had ever seen them express before.
Alex caught up a few moments later, eyes on the open laptop in her hand. “We should still have some time,” she panted, “The security footage they’re seeing is still all stuck on loops so Marius can get inside, so the rest of the guards won’t run into us for another fifteen or twenty minutes.”
They found Glass bandaging the most serious wounds from the kit Glass had brought with them while also quietly counting the rises and falls of the guard’s chest. “Ambulance,” they said over one shoulder without slowing down treatment. “Unless you’re carrying some kind of healing relic.”
Alex shook her head, eyes following Drake across her computer screen. “Marius has the Rewinder, it can undo this kind of thing although a lot of people can’t handle the pain of it for something this bad. Drake’s between us and him anyway. Ambulance is the right call.”
Jess was already fumbling her phone out. “Got it.”
“Tell them it was an animal attack. We’ll get him outside before they show up. Should keep the cops from getting involved.”
“But couldn’t they-”
Alex shook her head. “Even if the magic-savvy cops are the ones that happen to respond they’re gonna do more trouble than good. Officer Singh does not like the Archive. Make the call.”
“Um, we need an ambulance.” She heard her sister’s voice come out of her mouth, wavering nervously into the phone. They would come and take him to the hospital. He would die in the night. Her thoughts were scattered beyond her reach. “Outside the Natural History Museum. He was attacked, by a...a dog. He’s bleeding.” Her voice caught in her throat.
“They’re in the storeroom,” Alex said into the radio. “Wait, something else is happening. Crow is doing something. Hold where you-”
The distant explosion was audible throughout the building a second before it detonated on the screen, the feed erupting into static.


Zoe combed through the shelves as Drake had demanded, looking slowly for the poorly described objects, intentionally dragging her feet.
Drake pushed apart the paper wrapping on a small object in his hand. “Finally.” He dropped it into the small box held by Crow. “That’s one.”
“Is this one?” Evan held up the stone chip.
Drake grabbed it. “Yes! Good work. Crow get over here. Now we just need the candle and that fire extinguisher thing. Cain’s never gonna know what hit him.”
Crow spat on the tiled floor, putting the box with the two stolen relics under one arm. “Christ you’re dense. You really, really don’t understand this city. You think there’s anything that happens here without Cain knowing about it? Let alone your stupid antics? I’m so done with this.”
“What did you say?” Drake demanded.
“Reinhardt Cain sends his regards. Have fun getting out of here with Malachi in the building. And this one is from me.” Crow yanked the grenade from the pocket of his hoodie, pulled the pin, and tossed it to the floor, breaking into a sprint down the hall.


Marius waited. The guard passed by with a yawn, exiting the room. Ben and Ari moved quickly and quietly across the empty space, checking the next door and then moving through it with well practiced and supernaturally enhanced coordination. Ben gestured, and Marius followed.
Ari was scouting across the next room. Benedict hung back.
Marius’ words were quiet. “We’re changing plans. If Drake is already there, we’re not going to beat him to the relics. And we can’t catch him on the way out if he uses the Flint. We have to regroup.”
Ben nodded, then paused for a second. “Ariella’s got a question. Can we still intercept them in the stockroom? We don’t know how long it’ll take him to find all the relics.”
“It’s worth a shot. We’re going to have to move fast, though. It sounds like it’s only a matter of time before he sets off an alarm and things get a lot more complicated, and we aren’t going to want to stick around.”
Marius’ earpiece crackled with quiet static. “They’re in the storeroom. Wait, something else is happening. Crow is doing something. Hold where you-”
The explosion echoed through the walls and floor, a strange shake that was both noise and vibration.
Marius and Benedict stared at each other for several seconds.
“Move!” Marius took off, Benedict close behind. Ariella fell in with them, all intentions of stealth and timing now destroyed by the distant explosion. Rounding the next corner into another hall, Marius abruptly stumbled to a stop on the polished floor, staring into a large arrow nocked to a bow, fully drawn, pointed straight at his forehead.
“Marius?” The man lowered the bow, sliding the arrow back into a small modern quiver attached to the leg of his black fatigues. Marius could see plans, maps, and timing play out behind his eyes. They soon snapped back into focus. “This is your ambush. You’re not here on response, you knew they were coming.”
A woman with identical black gear, a shock of short red hair, and a head that came up to the man’s shoulders stepped up next to him. “You sure, David?”
“I’m sure.”
“It’s true.” Marius lifted his hands slowly to show they were empty. Ben and Ari hung back behind him, watching nervously. “Not going to lie to you, David, Eleanor. We were setting an ambush. Relics as bait.”
Eleanor’s fingers drummed on the throwing axe hanging at her waist. “You know the Archive doesn’t allow that.”
“I know. It was necessary. There wasn’t enough time to prepare anything else, and there are at least two innocent people who are under the control of this guy. And I’m going to do everything I can to help them even if the Archive doesn’t make allowances for it. We didn’t know Crow was involved.”






Zoe took an instant to realize what had just happened. As Drake and Evan stumbled into a run, she did the same, immediately overtaking them. Passing the edge of the shelf, Zoe dove to one side, putting as much material between her and the bomb as possible. As she hit the ground, the explosion slammed through the floor like a second impact on her body.

[LeSwordfish]

This week I did a whole bunch of level design work, linked here. I think this qualifies as three days worth, with the building interior, building exterior and street, and the brick buildings and cliff each counting as one day.

I also wrote 760 words of character backstory for my D&D character, Cyrus.

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Cyrus, of House Redstone
Cyrus grew up as a noble in the city of Goldport, the second son of a wealthy trading family. His family owed it's fortune to a lucky storm that had swept away several competitor's ships, and so it was traditional for one member of each generation to enter the clergy as a worshipper of Avandra. As such, at the age of eleven, Cyrus was taken to join the Cathedral of Avandra. The wealth of the family was never far away, though, and Cyrus grew up in as much luxury as the monastic life could provide. Cyrus was never one for book-learning though, and instead concentrated on the art of combat, and on channelling the power of Avandra magically. From his uncle Cleos, and from his time serving in the slums around goldport, he learned compassion for his fellow being, and when he reached the age of majority, swore a public oath to protect the weak and innocent from those who would prey upon them. Instead of opting to do that in Goldport, Cyrus chose to head north, to the lands around Neverwinter he had learned to think of as wild and lawless.

Now a roaming do-gooder and preacher, Cyrus spreads the word of liberation, justice, and freedom to the common people of the lands, whether they wish it or not. Sometimes he appears suffused with the light of Avandra, the rich glow of light on gold coins. His armor gleams, his hair flows in the breeze - and his holy mount, a white charger named Windstrider - carries him from city to city.

Goldport
Goldport is an insular but wealthy city, clustered around a series of inlets and rivers far to the south of Neverwinter. Goldport is the main trading port of the southern realms, and almost all of it's economy is based around trade. Six major families control the six main ports, and all are made rich from the taxes they apply to incoming trade, plus their own trading fleets. A council of family elders works to ensure wealth for all publically, but in private sabotages, trade wars, and magic (of all hues) is used in a constant squabble for advantage. The local guards turn a blind eye to this, instead concentrating on the smuggling, with high bounties paid out by the council for ending threats to their taxes. Criminal gangs aren't uncommon in Goldport, but all rely on patronage from one or other house.

Goldport has a small military for it's size, primarily a navy used for patrolling major shipping routes. Goldport is surrounded on all sides by allied trading nations, and is protected by it's trading wealth: any nation intending to take Goldport must deal with all other allies. Goldport has a relatively small religious presence, with a cathedral to Avandra (where Cyrus studied), and smaller churches to several other gods.

Windstrider
​Cyrus' holy mount, a white charger named Windstrider, is a horse of unusual intelligence and particular bond with Cyrus. Cyrus has been summoning the horse since he was a teenager, and even without the psychic link that paladin mounts share, the horse and rider are extremely close, with Windstrider's warhorse temperament not keeping him from serving during the long journey from Goldport.


House Redstone
House Redstone is one of the six primary houses of Goldport, named for the reddish stone from which their port holdings are built. Titus of House Redstone, the family patriach and council representative, is Cyrus' father. Katrina, Cyrus' elder sister, is set to inherit the house rulership and the council position. (The law of house rulership is fixed, and Cyrus cannot be removed from the line of primogeniture without a council vote.) Cyrus has three younger siblings. One of these is master of the Redstone ports, and two are captains in the Goldport military. These are the typical destinations for family members, in addition to the family obligation to the cathedral of Avandra. (The last to take up this position was Cyrus' uncle Cleos, who mentored him at the Cathedral, and remains there.)

House Redstone is involved in jockeying for position with the other families, and Titus and Katrina are every bit as involved in the more unsavory activities as the other houses. The main rival of House Redstone is House Tradewind, who share several of Redstone's trade destinations. House Tradewind recently attempted a blockade of Redstone's ports, but were forced to halt it by the family council: rumor has it that they may be resorting to darker means to take out their rivals and claim superiority.

[Artman77]

Almost forgot to upload again. Art on Tumblr.

[Glass Mouse]

Challenge status for the week October 2 - 8!


Glass Mouse passes with a dozen digital drawings and ten character drawings.

Lycunadari passes with seven inktober drawings.

LeSwordfish passes with 760 words of character backstory and the days worth of level design.

jseah did not upload /send me anything.

Some Android passes with an impressive body of work.

Artman77 passes with six D&D attribute personifications.

Icewalker passes with ~1700 words of Reliquary.

Xiander passes with 3512 words of Scarlett story.


Thus, only jseah FAILS this round!

Glass Mouse, Lycunadari, LeSwordfish, Some Android, Artman77, Icewalker and Xiander PASS this round!


Current standing:

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Glass Mouse
Current run: 17 weeks
Longest run: 290 weeks
Themes: -

Lycunadari
Current run: 196 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

LeSwordfish
Current run: 18 weeks
Longest run: 24 weeks
Themes: -

jseah
Current Run: 35 weeks
Longest Run: 33 weeks
Themes: -

Some Android
Current run: 41 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

Artman77
Current run: 1 week
Longest run: 13 weeks
Themes: -

Icewalker
Current run: 1 week
Longest run: 13 weeks
Themes: -

Xiander
Current run: 14 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

This week's theme (October 9 - 15) has not been chosen yet, so it is up for grabs.

Next week's theme is chosen by jseah - let me know in PM or this thread, and I'll include it in the next status.

---

Incredible! Best friend and I snuck into the wedding couple's room when they were out to dramatically leave their wedding presents for them to find later (a bow and original family heraldry from him, a pair of masks from me), I lost a wrestling contest, and then was unrelatedly a cause of, significant impediment to, and participant in an impromptu play dramatically retelling the tale of a quest to recover a stolen rope, and then I wandered around in the woods until like 4 AM talking about mostly Evangelion with a friend I haven't seen in a couple years. Among other unexpected adventures on the way both to and from the event.

...it was quite a weekend.

Haha, whoa! I kinda want to read the comedic short story chronicling those events!

This week was a pretty productive one on my part. I wrote something every day and ended up with 3512 words, finishing the first draft of my Scarlett story.
I worked on an other project as well, but it did not get ready to reveal yet, maybe next week

Grats on finishing the draft! That's always an excellent feeling

[jseah]

Ah!

Lol, once again forgetting to upload anything by way of not visiting the thread for a week. (completing the previous week's chapter for instance since it was over 7k)

Fine, I shall increase my record by a single week at a time. Next time I shall endeavour to remember for thirty... five weeks straight.

(Alternately, can I convince Glassmouse to subscribe to my story so each time I post a chapter, an email submission automatically occurs)


On that note, the theme shall be "memory".

[Xiander]

Grats on finishing the draft! That's always an excellent feeling

Thank you, I do feel good about it.
Now I have to get started on the next one though, and I am having some trouble with figuring out what it is actually about...

[blackmagic5]

If you fail to meet the CHALLENGE, your counter will reset. At certain intervals.

[jseah]

Well, time to be completely paranoid and post super early!

5800 words for Hero's War

https://www.fictionpress.com/s/3238329/97/A-Hero-s-War

[Xiander]

Whew, I managed to get my weekly writing done before sleepy time.
This is the start of a new short, set in CastaLéon, the industrial city build in layers, which was also featured in my scarlett story. This story takes the viewpoint of Cinan, an experienced member of a criminal gang called "the lions". Cinan is out to discover who has been comitting murders on Lion turf, but before long, he will be faced with some very troublesome distractions, as someone tries to frame both the Lions and him for misdeeds they didn't actually commit.

Spoiler: Simple Business, part one

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“It’s the principle of it.” Cinan Said, to no one in particular.
The city was rolling by, as the cart was propelled by the rythmic pumping motion of one of his companions. Low stone buildings took each other’s place, while the ever present copper pipes chased each other in a complicated maze shape above them.
“Of what?” Asked the young man sitting across from him in the wagon.
Cinan narrowed his eyes and looked at the boy. Black hair, cut short enough to be barely visible. A set of brown eyes which were obviously looking for trouble. Several weapons inexpertly hidden around his person. He was an upstart, in his late teens, all to eager to go out and do stupid things to proove his worth to the more senior members of the Lions.
And he was asking questions.
Not for the first time, Cinan found himself missing Rogat. His old partner had been a mountain of flesh and muscle, with the proper maner to scare most people into shutting up and moving on. Perfect in Cinan’s line of businiss. Thebrute had never asked questions, he had simply let Cinan discuss the nature of their work and waited til it was his time to use his considerable talent for violence.
Rogat was not around anymore though. So Cianan had been forced to bring along two newer aditions to the Lions on his excurtions lately. He shouldn’t complain, the pair where perfectly sufficient for his purposes, but still. He would rather just have Rogat.
“Of the situation in general.” Cinan said vaguely, he wasn’t used to having to explain his statements. Talking about principles was simpler when you didn’t have to say what the principles actually were. “People have been killed.”
“So what?” Asked the boy. What was his name? Hall, or something like that, Cinan decided. “They’re not our people.”
Cinan had been about to expound upon what principles were at stake, but the question interrupted his train of thoughts and he had to realign it before he answered.
“But they were on our turf.” Cinan tried to be patient. He tried not to show that questions annoyed him.
“What does that matter.” His other companion squeesed out between his teeth, between two pumping motions.
This one was a bit bigger than Hall, he was nowhere near Rogats size, but he had enough muscle to look at least slightly intimidating. He too had short hair, and at least one knife hidden under his shirt. Cinan’s best guess was that his name was Janus… Or something like that.
“Everything.” Cinan said flatly. “If you can murder people freely on our turf, if we don’t respond to that kind of provocation, then our turf becomes meaningless.”
“So we protect people?” Hall seemed slightly confused.
“Yes.” Cinan said pleasantly. ”That is exactly what we do.”
Hall was about to ask another question, but Cinan cut him off with a gesture. The youth sat back in the seat and fell quiet.
“Stop here.” Cinan snapped.
To his pleasure, Janus responded imedeately and the wagon slid to a halt. Cinan let the motion cease completely, before he rose and stepped out of the railway wagon.
Hall and Janus followed suit, stepping on to the street next to the rail. Level seven of CastaLéon lay sprawled in front of them, all industry and bustly businiss.
Cinan quickly oriented himself, remembering where he had been told the latest murder had happened. He knew these levels well, having patrolled them with Rogat for years.
With confident strides, he made his way towards the destination. His two allies trailing behind him.
“Now,” Cinan began, speaking to no one. “This should be fairly simple business.”
He was about to continue, when Janus interrupted him.
“What are we going to do?” The bigger of the two boys asked.
Cinan drew in a deep breath. Rewriting his speech in his head before he answered. He turned to look at Janus as he spoke.
“You are going to stand behind me and look big. Big and dangerous if you can mannage. I am going to talk to anyone who needs talking to, and you are not going to ask me any questions while anyone is listening.” He glared at both the boys. “Understood?”
There was a silent moment. Both the boys where looking at him. Hall was looking up, Janus slightly down. Cinan was waiting for the inevitable array of questions to come pouring forth, but it didn’t. Both boys simply nodded and kept silent.
Cinan spun on his heel and marched towards their destination.
Shortly after, they turned a corner, and stood face to face with an unexpected obstruction. The house they were heading for was in front of them, the door open, but blocked by a tall young man in a guard uniform, standing at ease in front of the house.
“What the pit are the pickers doing here?” Hall whipered under his breath.
“Their job probably.” Cinan answered in a relaxed tone, noting with pleasure the small shock Hall displayed at his question having been heard at all.
Hall was about to ask more questions, but Cinan touched a finger to his lips and approached the young guardsman as casually as possible, with his small posse.
The guard was tall, almost a head taller than Cinan, who had never fancied himself a small man. Well honed muscles were obvious even under the uniform, short curly hair was just visible under his helmet and a set of clear blue eyes met Cinan, showing a calm confidence.
Cinan recogniced the young man. This was a bigger problem than he had first expected.
“Good day Cinan.” Said the guard. “We wondered whether you would show up or send someone else. You just won me ten kiln.”
There was very little humor in his voice as he spoke.
“Todd.” Cinan started.
“Tomm.” The young man corected.
“My apologies.” Cinan cleared his throat. “May I ask why you were expecting my pressense?”
“Because I know how you think.” A voice said from inside the house.
Hall and Janus were shooting each other glances, while Tomm did not look surprised at all. There were some shuffeling sound, then Tomm stepped aside and an older guardsman stepped out onto the street.
He was not as tall as Cinan, and no where near as well trained as his younger companion. His face was dominated by a dissheveled beard. His eyes were clever and tired at the same time. His brown hair as uncombed as his beard, sticking out helter skelter under his helmet. His uniform however was crisp, the dark grey spotless and the brass buttons polished to a sheen.
This was one name, Cinan remembered clearly.
“Benjamin!” He said in a jovial voice. Smiling his whidest smile. “How nice to meet you again. I see you have a new partner. Shame what happened to the old one.”
The old guardsman sent Hall and Janus a knowing glance.
“I could say the same to you.” He said dryly. “But enough with the plesantries. You aren’t here to chat, and I have work to do. What do you want?”
Cinan put on an expression of mock surprise.
“How do you know I didn’t come to talk to you?” He asked pleasantly.
“I know,” Benjamin explained. “Because your gang does not let things like this slide under their noses. If something like this happens on Lion territory, either you did it, or you want to find who did it as badly as I do. I think you know what is in here, and you want to find out who did it.”
“I have no idea what you mean my freind.” Cinan said calmly. “We simply heard the guards were conducting and investigation, and as concerned citizens, we wanted to offer our help.”
Benjamin and Tomm looked at him with level, unimpressed expressions on their faces. This was fine, he hadn’t expected them to buy it. Benjamin knew who Cinan was, they had made a compromise before, but Cinan did not expect another.
“Look,” Benjammin said. “This is guard business.”
“I am fully aware of that.” Cinan agreed. “But we both know that out interests overlap in this particular case, and that we have access to complimentary information. Together we could solve this much quicker.”
Benjamin seemed to think this over for a while.
“No.” He said sertiously. “I know we worked together a month ago, and that worked out… Fairly okay. But that will not happen again. If you and the Lions want to solve this case, do it without my help.”
It took Cinan a little effort to keep his face calm at the guardsmans stubborn refusal to cooperate..
“Will you not at least tell a concerned citizen what is going on, right here on his street?”
“You already know perfectly well what happened here.” Benjamin said dryly.
“Yes,” Cinan agreed. “Two people were murdered, either here or in the vicinity. They were found dead in this house.”
The officer nodded.
“So why do you need my help, if you already know this?” There was a teasing tone in his voice, which Cinan did not at all apreciate.

I also got to actually finish the first part of my other project.
I have started attemptin to make sound recordings of me reading aloud my first book "Marked for Death". The plot is a murdermystery set in CastaLéon, the same multilayered industry setting I keep mentioning. When dead bodies start turning up, all bearing the same occult mark, a set of unlikely protagonists all set out, more or less willingly, to discover the identity and nature of the killer.

Marked for Death, Chapter 1

[Bucky]

Comic strips count as one work per panel?
Microfics count even if they're less than 250 words?

[Some Android]

Got my art up.

[Icewalker]

Progress, progress! Some spaced back earlier in the story. Just gonna post it all here again today. 1569 words.

Spoiler

Show

She had enjoyed the commission, at first. The repetitive pattern of the scales was pretty simple, but complex enough that it warranted some talent to make it look good. Doing it over and over, she’d gotten better and better at the style. The repetitiveness of the pattern let her relax too, which was half the reason she did tattoo work in the first place.
The person getting the tattoo on the other hand, she had paid little attention to. There wasn’t anything wrong with the guy, he was just incredibly boring. Didn’t know his aftercare either, she could tell by the way he acted after inking sessions. He was lucky though, and his bad treatment of her work didn’t damage it, it always seemed fine when he came back for further sessions.
Okay, lucky wasn’t the right word, she reflected. The twerp was cheating, more like.
There were only two interesting things about him: The fact that he brought his own ink, and his weird necklace. Big ugly golden thing, with an orange stone set in the front of it. He wouldn’t take it off during the sessions. But he paid, even extra for the weird ink thing, so she tolerated it. No problem for her.
Right. No problem.
“Ow,” Evan muttered as she passed over his spine, continuing the scales over his back. She slowed down and let the tattoo machine really hammer on bone for an extra minute. The fancy-looking room that Drake had set aside for her to keep tattooing his wimp of a friend wasn’t a proper parlor, but she didn’t object to the lack of proper sterilization. Let him get an infection. That stupid magic amulet would probably fix him right up anyway. She’d watched his bruises, even a broken rib, disappear over the course of a couple days thanks to his terrible taste in jewelry.
The regenerative abilities his amulet provided were small but constant. When it came to something like healing after a tattoo, it made a big difference. In the few days since she’d been here, she had been made to work on Evan’s tattoo at a pace that normally wouldn’t allow for healing between sessions, but for him it was no problem.
“Are you done?” That is, if he could tolerate the pain of it.
“Sure.”
“Good,” he turned over on the cot, pushing her arm away. “Go back down to your cell in the basement, and lock it.”
“Can I at least put my stuff away first?”
“Yeah whatever.”
Evan threw his shirt straight back on over the tattoo. Zoe winced. She put her tattoo machine away in its case, and found herself looking at the still half-full bottle of magical ink she had been working with today. She glanced over her shoulder. Evan had left. Zoe slipped the bottle into her case as well, instead of putting it back on the side table where it had been sitting.


...


Mary slammed her foot into the door of the cell again. Each subsequent kick now sent a small pulse of pain through her leg, but she kept going. The padlock wasn’t going to break.
The hinges on the other hand, would.
As the edges holding up Drake’s improvised prison began to crack, she redoubled her efforts. This was going to end tonight, and she wasn’t planning on spending the evening in some rich *******’s basement. The barred door disconnected from the hinges with a metallic snap, and Mary stumbled forward on the basement floor, shaking out her leg.
It didn’t take her too long to find everything she needed in the manor: Drake wasn’t in any habit of hiding important things, evidently. Her pistol was a reassuring weight in her hand, even if it was still empty. She tucked it into the back of her pants and covered the weapon with her shirt. There was no time to waste.
Okay maybe there was a little time to waste. Mary plugged the bathtub drain in a third floor bathroom and turned the water on full, before heading out into the night.


Zoe lay on the floor for several moments. Her system was flooded with adrenaline. The feeling was welcome: she focused better in the ring than anywhere else. She stood smoothly, light on her feet with her nerves buzzing. A smear of black stretched the whole length of the aisle where the grenade had detonated. Julian Drake pulled himself from the ground, ink stained across his clothes after the hound had interposed itself in the way of the blast. There was a silent fury in his eyes. Zoe recognized it as the anger of somebody who had lost their grip on the situation. The anger of a boxer about to make a stupid, stupid move.
Good.
“You two find the other relics. You, follow Evan’s orders,” he snarled, “I’m going after Crow.” He broke into a run in the direction Crow had left, feline monster easily keeping pace at his side.
Evan was back to standing, but he was shaking a little in the knees. There was some blood over his upper lip from a short-lived nosebleed, and his hand was pressed against the healing amulet beneath his shirt. “Well you heard him. That red candle and the other thing.”
Zoe grunted an acknowledgement, and went back to searching through the shelves. She felt the tiny bits of foam in her pocket. Soon.
Evan spoke up again eventually, from another aisle of shelving. “I’ve got the fire thing.”
“Candle is right here,” Zoe said, grabbing what looked like some kind of ancient kitchen utensil from a shelf, and wrapping it in some paper she yanked off of something else. “Let’s go.”
“We should go find Julian?” The statement was a question, not a command.
“No,” Zoe suggested, “we’ll just get lost in here looking for him, and after that explosion there’ll be guards and police or who knows what all over the place soon. We should meet him out front. Take the elevator back down.”
“Yeah alright.”
The waiting was awkward, Evan shuffling from foot to foot. Zoe began rolling out her wrists and knees, warming up. The freight elevator arrived with a ding, doors clunking open. Zoe pulled the earplugs from her pocket as they stepped inside, doors closing. She stuffed the little bits of foam into her ears.
“What are you doing?”
“Putting in earplugs,” Zoe said casually.
Evan said something. It looked like a question, from the expression on his face. She couldn’t hear it.
Zoe shrugged and pointed at her ears, then slammed a fist into the emergency stop button. The elevator abruptly jolted to a stop between floors. Evan said something else. Probably a command, from the look on his face. She couldn’t hear that either.
Her first punch hit him clean in the throat, and Evan stumbled into the wall of the elevator with a choking gasp. Her fingers caught his necklace, and with a yank the thin chain snapped. Zoe flung the gaudy amulet into the far corner of the confined space and followed in with an elbow to his head, pressing forward without giving him time to respond, working the corner. Evan covered his head with his arms, and she took the opportunity to slam a knee into his exposed side. His arms and upper torso rippled, growing into the hulking draconic might tattooed across his skin, his ink-painted fingernails extending once again into long vicious claws.


Jessica and Glass both stared at Alex. It was only a moment before Glass had shaken it off and was back to his patient.
“Marius! Marius are you there?”
“We’re here, Alex.” She breathed a sigh of relief. Jessica thought Marius sounded fairly calm, all things considered. “What the hell was that?”
“I don’t know, possibly a hand grenade, possibly a new relic. We need to regroup.”
“Agreed. Ari was scouting ahead, but Ben says she’s fine. You three come up to the second floor, meet at the stairwell on the south side.”
“Got it.” Alex clipped the radio onto her belt. “Glass, Jessica, c’mon. After that explosion there’s going to be a lot more than an ambulance showing up.”
To Jessica’s surprise, Glass nodded. “I wasn’t planning on staying. I’ve done the best I can with the bleeds for now.”
Somebody ran in through the front doors of the museum, not slowing down. Jessica stared. “Mary!?”
Mary jogged past the three of them, not slowing down. “Hey Jess, hey Alex, have to find Drake, I’ll look for you soon as I get away from him, can’t stop sorry!” By the time the words were out of her mouth she was rounding the far corner of the hall.
“Wait, Mary! ¡Caray! Come on we have to catch her!” Jessica took off after her sister. It didn’t take long before it was impossible to tell which way she had run. Jessica slowed to a stop, out of breath. Her eyes burned. She had been right there.
“Come on,” Alex put a hand on her shoulder. Jessica twitched away from the touch. “Oh, sorry. But hey, come on. We got this. Stairs are this way, then we can catch up with Marius and go deal with this together.”
They rounded the corner, and the three of them froze, staring into a large arrow nocked to a bow, fully drawn, pointed straight at Alex’s forehead from twenty feet away.

[Artman77]

art on Tumblr

[LeSwordfish]

For one day this week, I did some work using Unity! It may not look like much, but you can jump about and fly sideways and pick up the red collectibles.

I also painted five models: https://www.dropbox.com/s/3jotm4y1r1...93002.jpg?dl=0

(I could have sworn i posted this earlier!)

[Glass Mouse]

(Alternately, can I convince Glassmouse to subscribe to my story so each time I post a chapter, an email submission automatically occurs)

On that note, the theme shall be "memory".

I feel like I've tried to do that before, but this week I succeeded as evidenced by the chapter that ticked into my mailbox :)

Also, I took the liberty of un-resetting your counter since you did both write and upload in a place I knew about (albeit one with terrible timestamping).

If you fail to meet the CHALLENGE, your counter will reset. At certain intervals.

I'm confused. Is this a suggestion? Like, the counter should work like in Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? I don't get the intervals thing.

Comic strips count as one work per panel?
Microfics count even if they're less than 250 words?

Indeed on both accounts. Poems also count as one, no matter how short (though you could make an argument for every verse counting since a long-form poem is a hell of a lot of work).

[Glass Mouse]

I offer the usual apologies for lateness. I don't really have an excuse, things are just rough right now for completely overcomeable reasons. Challenge status for the week October 10 - 16!


Glass Mouse passes with four digital drawings, seven character drawings, and a dramatic elf.

Lycunadari passes with seven inktober drawings.

LeSwordfish passes with five painted models and a game level.

jseah passes with 5800 words of Hero’s War.

Some Android passes with a sudden flip-flopping of anatomy.

Artman77 passes with an elf head, a wip monster, a couple of gnomes, a halfling, some werewolves, and two more concept drawings.

Icewalker passes with 1569 words of writing.

Xiander passes with the start of a short story and an audio recording.


Thus, no one FAILS this round!

Glass Mouse, Lycunadari, LeSwordfish, jseah, Some Android, Artman77, Icewalker and Xiander PASS this round!


Current standing:

Spoiler

Show

Glass Mouse
Current run: 18 weeks
Longest run: 290 weeks
Themes: -

Lycunadari
Current run: 197 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

LeSwordfish
Current run: 19 weeks
Longest run: 24 weeks
Themes: -

jseah
Current Run: 36 weeks
Longest Run: 33 weeks
Themes: -

Some Android
Current run: 42 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

Artman77
Current run: 2 weeks
Longest run: 13 weeks
Themes: -

Icewalker
Current run: 2 weeks
Longest run: 13 weeks
Themes: -

Xiander
Current run: 15 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

This week's theme (October 17 - 23), chosen by jseah, is memory.

Next week's theme is chosen by Some Android - let me know in PM or this thread, and I'll include it in the next status.

[LeSwordfish]

I'm confused. Is this a suggestion? Like, the counter should work like in Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? I don't get the intervals thing.

I suspect this is spam - it's just sentence fragments from the first post.

[Glass Mouse]

I suspect this is spam - it's just sentence fragments from the first post.

Y'know, in retrospect, that was blindingly obvious. Pray that I'm never in a position responsible for spotting the alien super spy in our midst.