The CHALLENGE chugs on!

[Glass Mouse]

Yes I did.

Ack, sorry. Seems like pretty bad form to penalize people for being early

Fixed now. Thanks for flagging it!

[Glass Mouse]

This week's theme (February 13 - 19), as already announced, is My, what sharp teeth you have.

Drawing lots of sharp-teethed people this week.

[LeSwordfish]

Oh, whoops, I get to choose theme? Let's say, uh, Meanwhile, Back At The Ranch.

[Xiander]

This week yielded 2676 words of Vin still trying to help.

Spoiler: Trying to help, part three

Show

I watched him closely, picking out what i could of his emotions and trying my best to guess his reaction. The emotions were not hard to pick up. They radiated off him. And they were bad news for me.
I had hoped he might be willing to bargain. That the threat of the police would be enough to make him do the sensible thing.
But he wasn¨t scared at all.
The main emotion was anger. He was pissed off that a blonde ***** like me dared to threaten him. Yeah okay, I can’t be sure he thought of me as a blonde *****. I’m an empath not a mind reader, but it was probably something like that.
At any rate, he did not seem to be folding to that threat. His anger rippled over his face for a few seconds, then settled down in a cold knot as he gained control of his face again.
“How could you possibly know if I have the thing you’re looking for?” His voice wasn’t completely calm, there was some anger burning in it, but he made a good show of it.
“Mister,” I said smiling as broadly as I dared. “I make a living finding treasure, I know where the treasure is.”
He just stared at me for a long time, then he spoke, spitting the words between his teeth.
“You’re one of them Twilight bastards then.”
“What?”
I was taken by surprise, I sensed nothing magical about him, so how did he know about the twilight? My reaction must have been more overt than I’d wanted, since he picked up on it immediately.
“You’re magical.” It was a statement not a question. “You stay right there.“
As he spoke, he reached down behind the counter and produced a handgun big enough to make me question it’s practicality. If he shot me with that monster, chances were I wouldn’t be in one whole piece afterwards.
“Now, don’t do anything rash.” My voice cracked a little bit as I spoke, this was way more intense than I had expected. I raised my hands to show open palms.
“Shut up.” He growled and got out from behind the counter. He stepped closer and waved the gun angrily at me. “Turn around and put your hands on your head.”
I took in his emotions, and decided that this was a man who just might pull the trigger if I didn’t do what he said. What the hell had I gotten myself into? He wasn’t magical, so how did he know about twilight? And why was he so willing to wave that gun about?
He patted me down with his free hand, checking for weapons. I guess men with guns will always expect everyone else to be packing as well.
He didn’t find any guns or knives on me. Some might say that it’s stupid not to be prepared for violence when you walk into a dangerous place… They might be right, but I don’t like violence. So I try to avoid it. I find, that not carrying around tools designed specifically to hurt people helps that goal.
In this case, not carrying a weapon probably saved my life. I felt tension and aggression radiating off Pat as he searched me. If I had been armed, that might have been enough to make him pull the trigger on me.
He took my phone from my pocket and stuffed it in his own. Damn, I had hoped he would be stupid enough to let me keep it.
“What’s in your chest pocket?” He asked gruffly.
I took some time to think, as if I didn’t remember what i had in there.
“Oh, a vial of ink.” I said it as if it had just occurred to me.
“**** that.” Pat mumbled and shoved me forwards. “Move!”
He herded me to a door, which led away from the street and into the back of the shop. This place was just as tatty and filled with old junk as the front of the store, but there were shimmering threads of energy in the air in here.
Something magical was kept here.
Pat pushed me through the room to another door. Made me open it and shoved me inside. I turned to look at him and he sent me an ugly grin.
“Have fun in there while I figure out what to do with you.” With that he slammed the door, and I heard a key turn in the lock.
The room was small, just a bit bigger than a janitors closet. There were a lot of boxes stacked along the walls. Upon inpection I found that they contained mostly clothes and other things which wouldn’t be of much use in my current predicament.
Soon enough, I heard pat talking to someone in the back room, probably on the phone. It was hard to make out exactly what the conversation was about. I did pick out the words mother****er and little prick several times. I decided that probably referred to me.
Pat had locked me in a closet and was calling someone to tell them about it. It seemed a fair bet, given what I knew, that Pat had a magical friend. And the person on the other end of the phone call was likely that friend.
I sat down on the floor and concentrated. I was in a bad pickle here. Locked in and with no means to escape, it seemed I might have to wait for Pat’s magical buddy to show up. Or for pat to grow a set of balls and just shoot me himself.
Either of those options would probably lead me straight to an unmarked hole in the ground. So it was a good thing I had done some preparations. I am a strong believer in making your own luck, and with the right tools, you can make a lot of luck.
This time around I didn’t have all the tools I wished I’d had, but I had far more tricks up my sleeve than Pat probably expected.
I checked the time.
I had to stall pat for a while before my contingency plan would kick in. Just talking at him probably wouldn’t be enough, I needed an ace in the hole.
Lucky for me, Pat had literally looked at my hidden ace and then said **** that.
I got out the vial of Shaya’s ink.
I could hear Pat in the other room, still on the phone, I could hear my heartbeat and I could feel myself beginning to sweat. Why did I get nervous everytime I had to do this?
I took a deep breath and focused my mind. I let go of all my fear and my worry. I let go of everything but the moment.
For the next few minutes, the rest of the world didn’t matter. Pat and his monster gun didn’t even exist. The mysterious magical person on the other end of the phone was nothing to me. Even Rain and her missing treasure melted out of my mind.
I removed the stopper from the vial of ink. I almost lost my calm when I realised I had no brush, but then I remembered the boxes in the room. Holding the ink in my left hand I rifled through boxes with my right, until I found an old rag I could use.
Careful not to spil, I dripped ink on one corner of the rag. Then I knelt on the floor, using the ink to draw. I am no great artist, and I am pretty sure I will never be any good at drawing. Still when I was done a little later, most people would recognize my drawing as a symbolic representation of a woman.
That was all I needed.
I put the stopper in the vial of ink again. The next bit was tricky and I couldn’t be distracted by the worry of spilling ink. I put the vial back in my breast pocket.
Then I poured all my concentration onto the symbolic woman on the floor. I pictured in my mind the person I was reaching out to, and I imagined the strands of sympathy between the real woman and the symbolic one on the floor.
When the picture stood sharp in my mind and I was sure I had established sympathy, I finally spoke.
“Shaya.” I whispered the word, but my voice was intense, almost desperate. “Shaya. Shaya!”
The third mention of the name sent a shock of magic power through the air and into the ink.
At first nothing at all happened.
Then the ink-woman started to twitch. After a moment she went from twitching to straight up moving. It took the painting three tries to sit up. And as she did, she gained volume and mass.
I saw my crude painting growing into a real figure. I saw ripples and twitches and vague symbolic lines turned into real curves and features.
Dark curly hair sprang from the figure’s head and fell to its waist. At the end of her arms, hands and fingers formed. The dark blotch that had been the head took shape. Cheeks rounded and grew dimples. A mouth opened in a charming smile. In the center of the face a cute little nose sprang forward.
A set of deep brown eyes opened and looked straight at me. And suddenly instead of an indistinct representation of a woman, Shaya stood in front of me, all dark skinned and beautiful.
And completely naked.
“Vin?” She asked, surprised.
I felt myself blushing and averted my eyes. No, I’m not shy, I’m a gentleman.
“Did you just sumon me?” There was a testy note to Shaya’s smoky voice.
“Yeah.” I drew out the word a little, I had not expected the nudity. “Why are you…”
“Naked?” She asked sharply. “I was taking a shower! Call me on the damn phone before you summon me!”
“Shh.” I put my index finger to my lips. “Don’t raise your voice.”
I could feel a deadly stare boring into the top of my lowered head. My magical empathy skils were completely redundant in this situation, a half blind five year old could have figured out that Shaya was pissed.
“Look,” I whispered, still trying to avoid looking at her. “I really need help, I got in trouble big time, trying to help out Rain.”
There was a long silence as she took that in.
“Don’t tell me.” Her voice was dry, but anger lurked right under the surface. “You took one look at her and went out to do your knight in shining armour routine?”
“….Yes.” I admitted, a bit ashamed of my predictability.
“And you got into trouble?”
“A bit.”
“A bit?”
“A pretty big bit.”
She made an irritated sound, and I hurried to gesture for her to keep her voice down. I did not want Pat to walk in to see what all the noise was about.
“What is going on?” She hissed at me.
“The door is locked. There’s a man with a gun. He called in his magical friend.”
“So what’s the plan?” Her voice was thick with irony now. “The empath and the naked girl takes them on and comes out triumphant?”
Instead of answering, I checked my watch.
“What time is it Vin?” She sounded annoyed. “Seriously, could you at least look at me?”
I looked at her, Trying hard to only look at her face.
“I have a plan.” I explained seriously. And no, I wasn’t blushing.
“This better be good.” She sighed.
In a hushed voice I explained the plan.
She listened then nodded.
“And you are sure we shouldn’t just try and get out of here, before the unknown magical arrives?”
I looked her straight in the eyes, letting her see my determination.
“I want him to come here, so we can stop him.” I sounded determined and cool, even to my own ears.
“Fair enough.” And Shaya smiled a dangerous smile. “So we just wait for him to arrive?”
I nodded, and we started making our preparations.
Once everything was in place, we waited for just around twenty minutes, before we heard someone arrive in the front room, then enter the backroom.
Pat greeted the new visitor with friendly candor, and recieved the same in return. There was a short pause, then the new arival spoke loud enough for us to hear.
“So where is this snoop you told me about?”
This was it, In a few seconds the door would open and I would see if my plan worked.
It swung open slowly, and revealed a lean man in a leather jacket. His eyes were covered by a set of sunglasses. Yes, sunglasses inside, I know. Black hair was trimmed close to his head and one earring studded his right ear.
He looked young, but i sensed a power coming off him, which was way beyond what you’d expect of someone his age.
He was about to say something, but stopped dead when he saw what was in the room. Or rather, when he saw Shaya.
She was posing in the middle of the room, still comepletely au natural. I had suggested she covered herself with some of the cloth from the boxes, but she insisted that her nakedness could be an advantage. I had reluctantly agreed, trying not to look at anything improper. Now she smiled at the newcomer.
“Hi!” She said playfully.
“What the hell Pat?” Sunglasses said angrily. “You said it was a guy. What is this ****?”
I was hiding just inside the door and couldn’t see Pat, but I imagined the dumbfounded look on his face.
“It was… I.. Uh…” He stammered.
See, I am not the only one Shaya has that effect on.
“Who the hell are you?” Sunglasses asked, still looking at Shaya.
“Just someone who dropped by to make sure her friend is okay.”
Sunglasses’ nostrils flared and I felt the moment the realization hit him.
“You’re magical.” He snarled.
His aura started to crackle with magical energy. Then vissible sparks started erupting from his fingertips. Wait. That should be impossible. Unless…
“Shaya! Now!” I yelled.
With a flick of her wrist Shaya produced the half empty vial of ink. The cork landed on the flor, and ink rose out of the vial in a cloud. In less than a second the room was filled with thik ink-like smoke.
I could hear Sunglasses snarling in the middle of it, and pat making stupid noises behind him. This was way beyond what shaya should have been able to do with that little ink.
Unless Pat’s shop was a locus.
This changed things. Sunglasses would be much more dangerous in a locus, and I wasn’t sure Shaya had the power to fight him. But if we could draw out the time for just a little while, we would have a chance.
The smoke was meant to be an equalizer, making Pat unable to fire his gun, and sunglasses unable to fight effectively. But it blotted out my vision as completely as it blotted out Sunglasses’ and pats.
So I cheated.
I closed my eyes, drew a deep breath, and opened my twilight eyes. Everything sprang into focus. Normally my twilight eyes let me see sympathetic connections like gossomer strands. In a locus, the effect is much more profound.
With my eyes closed I saw nothing of the normal world, but my other eyes saw everything. You see, everything it in someway related to something else. A brick in a wall is connected by some degree to every other brick in that wall. Every wall in a room is connected to every other wall in that room. Everything part of a whole is connected to every other part. And the world is one big whole.
I saw all these connections clearly enough to give me a headache. My first insinct was to close my twilight sight before it tore my head wide open.
That wasn’t an option though.

[Some Android]

Got my art up.

[LeSwordfish]

I wrote a 2047 word blog post.

[jseah]

1230 words for Hero's War

Spoiler

Show

The line on the graph shifted upwards slowly and Landar stuck a note to the magic density measuring equipment. "1 piece human skin, 40 grams"
Well, that was reassuring.
"Are you really taking apart a body to see how much magic it contains?" Cato asked incredulously.
"Yup!" Landar nodded, opening up another box further down the table.
"Strictly speaking, I already have a good idea of how to measure the magic in lifeforce," Landar continued, "this is more of a release speed measurement. The total quantity of magic can be be estimated by your mage in a box experiment, and measurements from a disruption magic kill corresponds to that. So the total amount is not in question. The question we're trying to investigate is why disruption magic can kill people and animals and just about any living thing, except maybe you. You see, we know that lifeforce is required for life, we also know that physical things like blood are required for life. But what is it that links these two portions of your body together? How does a physical thing break down the lifeforce? How does a magical disruption affect the physical portion of the body like the heart or lungs?
I'm trying to see here if various chemicals or reactions can speed up the breakdown of lifeforce from a piece of dead body. We already know fire does that quite well, but what exactly is it in a body that is destroyed?"
Cato let her words flow over him as she poured a cup full of a very familiar stink. Formaldehyde. A relatively new chemical, made only in experimental quantities by the University's chemical labs.
The combination of its pungent smell and metallic tang of blood twisted his stomach.
"Kupo, give me a hand. "
The healer simply grabbed a large cleaver and chopped the hand off the body. There was surprisingly little blood, easily explained by the buckets placed below the body and the splatter over the floor. But still, the two women standing in a bloodstained room cheerfully lopping off bits of fresh human was not a welcome sight.
"1 human hand, 513 grams" Landar wrote meticulously, rubbing a stray drop of blood off the corner of her note.
Cato brushed off the flecks of dried blood that splattered onto his shirt before backing away slowly.


The meeting in Tirien's Academy was held in a well-furnished and comfortable room. The cold of the heavy rain outside was warded off by a gently crackling fireplace, scented wood smoke mixing with the alcoholic fumes from the wine and spirits languishing in their goblets.
"We also have reports from our eyes in Minmay's forges and that bank. They are working on a new project, something big with the collaboration of everyone from the Ironworkers to the Recordkeepers. There are at least five distinct groups that seem to be building portions of it. "
There was a collective groan through the men and women in the room. By this point, strange new ideas appearing from Cato's University was getting to be a routine thing, as much as that could be routine. There were two main forms that the warning signs took, the Mad Alchemist disappearing for a week or two, or as this case was, Minmay or Cato starting a large and expensive project.
"What is he doing this time?" asked one of the mayors in the room. The voice was tired, resigned to the insane pace of change they had all seen.
They had thought the new steel furnaces and the coking method was worldchanging, flooding the market with cheap and good steel was something of a fantasy. Then came the fertilizer and irrigation practices, seed drills and steel plows. There was a phrase 'too much food' that no one had ever expected to see. Those were just the first ones that had barely time to make themselves felt. Then came guns that changed the face of warfare, the frustratingly difficult concept of standardized practice and interchangeable parts, teaching everyone alchemy and those mana wells promised greater change than anything previously seen.
Not counting minor things like bicycles, newspapers and living fire. Each of which could have been the financial basis of a strong merchant house or even a minor noble position.
"Ah, yes, there's an interesting tale there. " Heads turned to the smug voice in the corner. Many of the noses turned up in slight disgust at the non-noble but none confronted the speaker directly.
"Your prevarication is unwanted," Ektal cut the man off, "your usual teasing is not appreciated. "
"Such seriousness-"
"Draken," the king's warning was resigned, knowing that restraining the mercenary was quite impossible.
"Fine, whatever you want," the man chuckled, "I have ears in some of their inner circle. Sources tell me that they are working on flight. They seem to think they can build a machine that fly in the air like a bird or an Elka. A machine of wood, cloth and steel that Cato is quite certain will be able to travel across the entire of Ektal in a single flight. In less than a day. Enough to carry one or two people, but Cato's stories imply that the flying machines can be built as big as you like. "
He played with a thin deadly stiletto that had somehow slipped the door check, twirling it through his fingers. The spymaster smiled at the blank faces as most of the nobles failed to understand the implications, "the machines will fly faster and further than Elka. Too high for arrows to reach, too high to hope to hit with bowguns. Give the man inside living fire bombs to drop and the machines can attack anywhere with impunity and there is nothing anyone can do about it. "
With a flick of his wrist, the blade was embedded into the far wall, slicing the top off a cork on a bottle. The bottle wobbled and crashed to the floor before the servants could catch it, splashing the alcohol over the carpet. Draken sighed, as if disappointed at his own accuracy. He ignored the pale worried looks of the nobles as they began to contemplate yet another strange shift in warfare.
"If you would continue and stop vandalizing the room?" the king said.
"All right, alright! The military implications are clear. Previously, while Minmay's Guards are better armed and defended our knights, his lone territory's advantages is offset by the difference in numbers. But this flying machine cannot be answered by numbers. Without more Elka than exist throughout the Federation or your own machines, which no doubt requires manufacturing practices no one else's smiths can match, Minmay will have a weapon that cannot be gainsaid through superior numbers and finances. Worried yet?"
Draken raised an eyebrow as the king merely stared at him. With a sigh, he continued with the analysis, "but according to the activity I am hearing, this project is so large that even Cato does not expect it to be complete any time soon. The project is still learning how to fly, building tools and conducting tests. They are still gathering knowledge and have no clear idea how to build a flying machine. "
The nobles had such an obvious look of relief that he chuckled to himself again, moving across the room to retrieve his dagger.

Oh look, 616 words for yet another Worm fanfiction.
This has a tendency to happen when I'm still trying to catch a voice in a particular fandom. So I start and restart a number of stories until I get something I feel matches.

Spoiler

Show

"Good morning, Director. "
Piggot's head snapped up as her computer screen dissolved into a video call. A video call she wasn't expecting.
The woman in the screen leaned back into a chair gracefully, a blank white wall behind her. There was something off about that video, a touch too much perfection. The woman's shoulder length reddish hair and pretty face was attractive in a generic bland way. The plain t-shirt held no identifying information either. Most damningly, the woman wore no mask.
The director of the Parahuman Response Team, East-North-East branch, brushed away her stray thoughts while keeping her face calm.
"You do realize that breaking into the PRT computer systems is a felony?" she asked the woman flatly.
The woman just smiled slightly. "I just wanted to talk. "
Piggot pressed the alarm button under her desk for precisely four seconds, keeping the motion hidden from the computer's camera. "Very well, you have me here now, so talk. "
"Your interference in the case of Sophia Hess is not appreciated. You will allow her to stand trial for her crimes. "
The woman stated her demands with no more reaction than before, as if discussing a cup of tea. Piggot merely narrowed her eyes. "You cannot the PRT what to do. You do not get to dictate terms when you have already committed multiple crimes of electronic trespassing. "
"So why does the PRT gets to dictate terms it likes? You are obstructing the course of justice," the woman replied, just as calmly, "I have proof Hess's crimes. Enough to damn her even without your files. "
A light flashed on Piggot's phone, a silent text message from Dragon acknowledging the cyber attack.
"The PRT is a public institution vested with the power to keep society safe. We do not need to justify our actions to villains like you. "
The woman laughed derisively at Piggot's assertion. It grated but Piggot needed to keep the cape talking, give Dragon time to work. The woman leaned forward, "I'll tell you why the PRT gets to dictate terms. That's because the PRT has the power to. It all comes down to power in the end you see, when you cannot trust the system to do what is right. "
The phone flashed another message. Intruder is an AI. Unable to trace.
A second message flashed nearly immediately. AI stronger than me. Have to disengage.
Ah, so that was what was wrong with the video. There were no shadows against the wall, no signs of any light sources. A lump of dread was starting to build, as if events were running away from her.
"So allow me to state what power I have to make you comply. Records, phone messages and the full history of Shadow Stalker's activities. Makes for very interesting reading," the woman held Piggot's gaze then continued, "that means that the accused receive a And the PRT actually cleans this place up instead of leaving Brockton Bay to swirl the drain. Either you do your ****ing job or I will do it for you. "
There was a long moment of silence as Piggot felt her own expression get darker.
"Oh, and I'm pretty sure you've already figured out some things, given certain other secrets. Still, allow me to warn you. Do not approach my creator. Do not try to silence her. I am the deadman's switch. Anything happens and I distribute everything I have. " The woman in the screen leaned forwards, "this includes myself. Millions of copies of an AI, loyal to whoever picks them up. Think about it. "
With that, the feed cut out.

[Icewalker]

Forgot to post!

I didn't do any writing for The Three Truths this week but that's partially because I spent a lot of it prepping material for a LARP event I'm running, especially writing characters. So I'm PMing you four of those sheets (about half of what I made) which between them are already 1670 words.

I've decided I'm going to give a good old NaNo try, in March. I have a lot of material for The Three Truths that I want to write, and already know, and I'm just falling further and further behind. it's probably not 50k words worth, but if I catch up I can finally do the final writing sections for Reliquary that I've put off for months.

[azaph]

Well, Atlas of Impossible Worlds seems to be quite consistently passing a thousand words per entry so I guess I probably won't suffer too much from throwing my hat into the ring.
I'll probably try to do 1500 words of something completely unrelated most weeks, but having a fallback I'm doing anyway makes it way less stressful.
Out of curiosity, what would happen if someone (cough) managed to write a poem which was more than 500 words long?

[Glass Mouse]

Meep meep, catching up on deadlines! Status for the week February 20 - 26!


Glass Mouse passes with five silly drawings, two rpg sketches and a portrait of a snarling elf.

Lycunadari passes with eight pretty nature photos.

LeSwordfish passes with 2047 words of video game review.

jseah passes with 1230 words of Hero's War, and 616 words of new Worm fanfiction.

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

Icewalker passes with 1670 words of LARP notes.

Xiander passes with 2676 words of misplaced helpfulness.

Some Android passes with sixteen faces.


Thus, Artman77 FAILS this round!

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


Current standing:

Spoiler

Show

Glass Mouse
Current run: 37 weeks
Longest run: 290 weeks
Themes: 1 week

Lycunadari
Current run: 216 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

LeSwordfish
Current run: 38 weeks
Longest run: 24 weeks
Themes: -

jseah
Current Run: 55 weeks
Longest Run: 33 weeks
Themes: -

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

Icewalker
Current run: 21 weeks
Longest run: 13 weeks
Themes: -

Xiander
Current run: 34 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

Some Android
Current run: 1 week
Longest run: 42 weeks
Themes: -

This week's theme (February 20 - 26), as already announced, is Meanwhile, Back At The Ranch.

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

---

Well, Atlas of Impossible Worlds seems to be quite consistently passing a thousand words per entry so I guess I probably won't suffer too much from throwing my hat into the ring.
I'll probably try to do 1500 words of something completely unrelated most weeks, but having a fallback I'm doing anyway makes it way less stressful.
Out of curiosity, what would happen if someone (cough) managed to write a poem which was more than 500 words long?

Hi, and welcome!

Uh, I don’t think we have precedent. The poem metric is imperfect anyway, but treating it as writing would make it two pieces. Sound reasonable?

[Xiander]

I had a fairly good run this week. Trying to help reached a climax, and I finished it with 3338 more words.
Here they are:

Spoiler: Trying to help, Part four

Show

I had to stick with the plan. Shaya was keeping our host and his friend on their toes, I had to make the best possible use of the time she was buying me.
Still, this couldn’t be rushed. I had to just keep stil and wait for my chance. Right now, Pat and Sunglasses were blocking the doorway. I had no chance in hell to overcome both of them, and I might just get myself shot trying.
So I bid my time.
Sunglasses snarled and stomped forward. He was obviously used to being the most dangerous guy in the room, and he did not seem to even consider the fact that me or Shaya could match him in a fight.
To be fair, he was probably right.
In the cloud of inky smoke and watching through my second eyes, I couldn’t quite make out what he was doing, but power radiated off him. My best guess was that he was chaneling his magic into some sort of attack.
Shaya’s voice rang through the thick smoke in a rolling laugh. There wasn’t a single word, and yet the meaning was as clear as day. Come and play with me. Catch me if you can.
And Sunglasses took the bait immediatly. He lashed out with one hand, and I could feel his aura crackle like a miniature thunderstorm.
Of course Shaya was no where near him when he struck. I don’t know exactly how much she could see in the smoke cloud. She might have been as blind as he was, but all she had to do was move away from the spot where he had seen her.
So his crackling fist hit empty air and shaya laughed at him again. She could play catch with him for quite some time, as long as the smoke was still up.
Meanwhile, I needed to get out and have a look at the backroom. I also needed to do something about the fat man with the gun, who was blocking my path.
I watched pat closely. He was standing in the door, on the edge of the smoke. He was obviously trying to figure out where Shaya was, and he was not paying attention to me at all.
I moved closer, as silent as I knew how. I got within a couple of steps, then paused, watching his motions. Shaya laughed again, from the oppside side of the small room, and Pat turned his head that direction.
I sprang forward, ran straight at him, and launched myself knee first into his crotch.
The monster gun roared as he pulled the trigger in surprise, and a bullet went careening into the smoke. Pat made a gurgling sound and dropped to his knees. I regained my ballance, more or less. Then darted past Pat, out of the room, and out of the smoke.
Once out of the thick inky smoke, I opened my eyes and saw both the world as i knew it, and the world of magic and energy. It send my head spinning, but I kept my focus and scanned the room for the thing I needed.
There were several tables and a bunch of shelves in the back room, all of them held curiousities, and everyone of those were steeped in emotion and sympathetic bonds.
All in all, it was like untangling yarn, figuring out which thread belonged to what item. And I was on a pretty tight timeline here.
I wanted to stop and consider each piece carefully, but I knew that was a terrible idea. So instead I kept running. I reached the other end of the room, and realized my mistake. In my slightly panicked state, I had forgotten about the layout of the room, specifically the placement of the doors.
I had just cornered myself, away from the door to the front room. As that realization dawned on me, I heard an angry sound from the smoke, and then Pat came bursting gun first into sight.
There was no time for grand strategy, so instead I just dove to the ground and took cover behind a desk. Two bullets hit the wall. Pat snarled curses and spat insults.
Behind him, I heard Sunglasses’ growls mingle with the melodic sound of Shaya’s laughter. Power was building up in the small, smoke filled room. Sunglasses was going to do something big, and I couldn’t stop him.
With my other eyes, I saw Pat move closer to me. He was a brownish blob against a backdrop of shimmering gold. The gun in his hand was as much a presence in the room as he was.
I wrenched my eyes away from pat and looked for the ticket out off here, which I knew had to be somewhere in the tatty backroom.
Pat fired another shot, and a bullet ripped through the desk I was hiding behind, missing me by inches. This was really not helping me concentrate.
I could hear the fat shop owner stomping closer.
There was really only two options here: I could wait for him to get close enough to hit me, then get shot. Or I could do something desperate.
I decided on the second option.
Grapping on to the leg of the desk I was hiding behind, I heaved with my whole body. With a massive effort, I just barely managed to make the desk tip over. The large piece of furniture hit the floor with a boom, and odd pieces of curiousity spilled onto the entire floor.
Pat roared in pain.
Mostly by luck, I had mannaged to tip the end of the desk onto his foot. I grapped the moment, and assaulted him while he was distracted by pain.
I collided with him full force, but my slender frame did little to knock him off balance. I did however get one hand on the gun, pushing the barrel away from me with all my might.
“You little ****!” He spat, trying to point the gun back to me.
I did the only thing I could. I drew back my head, and slammed my forehead into his nose. My skull felt like it would crack, but his head snapped back and he made a yelp of pain.

I yanked at the gun, and it slipped out of his fingers, and out of mine. There was a clattering noise as the weapon skittered across the floor.
Then I felt the sparkle of power, as Sunglasses let go of all the energy he had gathered about him. Sparks flew and everything was bathed in light, as Shaya’s cloud of black smoke was ignited and destroyed.
After one long second, the storeroom was back to full visibility. Sunglasses stood with his arms outstretched and sparks of magic flying around him. Shaya sat crouched just a long step away from him, still naked and completely exposed now.
Sunglasses whipped around to face her. More energy crackled at his fingertips as he lifted his hand to strike. But Shaya was faster.
She snapped her fingers, and something tore free of the wall. She had drawn it when we made preparations, it was hard to say if it was a bird or a bat, it was just a symbolic representation of a winged creature, drawn in ink. But now it took on a life of it’s own and flapped off the wall and straight into Sunglasses’ face.
I wanted to come to Shaya’s aid, but I had my own desperate battle to fight. Pat shoved me aside and went for the gun.
Desperate to stop him, I kicked at his legs, sending him off balance. He almost stumbled, but he mannaged to keep going for the weapon.
I was just about to launch myself after the weapon as well, when an unmistakeable sound interrupted the melee.
The bell on the store door rang loud and clear. Someone was in the store.
My twilight vision crackled and one of the threads of sympathy snapped taut. The person in the front room obviously had an intimate connection to something in the backroom.
My eyes followed the thread of sympathy, and found what I had come here for. Right above my head on a shelf, stood a small golden statue of a dragon.
In a second I took in the situation. Sunglasses was lashing out furiously at Shaya’s ink-bird. Pat was fumbling for his gun, and shaya was using the distraction to get out of the closet.
“Shaya!” I yelled, panic tinting my voice. “We’re leaving.”
“Agreed.” She shrieked and went for the door to the front room.
I snatched up the statue and darted in the same direction. Shaya come out of the back room just in front of me, and we both met Rain, who stood in the shop, looking lost and confused.
“Shaya?” She asked, her voice puzzled. “Vin?”
“No time to talk, leaving!” Shaya hissed as she ran past Rain.
I said nothing, and focused on running instead. I was just about to pass a deeply confused rain, when Pats voice called out.
“Not so fast.” The cliché was somewhat mitigated by the sound of a gun’s hammer clicking into position. “Stop right there.”
I stopped dead. A few steps ahead, Shaya stopped as well. Swallowing hard, I slowly turned around.
“What is going on?” Rain sounded shaken, but then in her position I would have been pretty scared as well.
“I don’t know who you are lady.” Sunglasses stepped into the front room and stood beside Pat. “But you walked in that door at the wrong moment.”
“I disagree.” A sudden confidence blossomed in my chest, and I winked at rain as I spoke.
“Shut up runt.” Pat sneered. “And put your hands where I can see them. The naked bitch as well, no more tricks.”
“Alright.” I said cheerfully, as I lifted my hands.
My arms stretched all the way in the air, and with a flick of my wrist, i dropped the dragon statuette into Rain’s hands. There was a ripple of power as she was connected with her treasure.
“No! ****!” Sunglasses barked. “Shoot them!”
Pat pulled the trigger, and the gun sent a bullet roaring straight at me. Now real life isn’t like the movies, you don’t get out of the way of a bullet. You can move out of someone’s aim, but once the trigger is pulled, the story is done.
Except Rain aparantly hadn’t gotten that particular memo. As the bullet zoomed right at me, she simply struck it out of the air. It raced of at a crazy angle, broke an antique lamp and lodged in a wall.
Then Rain righted herself to her full hight. It seemed like she had grown physically taller, she was at least a foot taller than me now.
“Thank you Vin,” She said, her voice completely calm and controlled. Nothing of the nervous, jittery Rain was left. It was like a new person had taken her place. “For bringing me my treasure.”
“You’re welcome.” I said with a careful smile. This new Rain looked like a wild card.
“Shut up the both of you.” Sunglasses snapped. “All three of you get to meet your maker now.”
He spread his hand, and sparks of power sprang from his fingers. In a second, both his arms where covered completely in power. More power than I got in a month. He stepped forward and punched Rain right in the chest, releasing a burst of energy as he did so.
The punch would have killed any human, laden with that much power.
But Rain did not even flinch.
She looked dispassionately at the fist resting against her sternum. Then her eyes sparkled as she raised them to meet his.
“My turn.” She whispered.
And Sunglasses flew across the room, hitting the wall with enough force to crack the plaster.
Suddenly, Shaya grabbed my collar and yanked hard. I had to backpedal and follow her towards the door. As we went, I saw Pat empty his gun at Rain, without even denting her confidence.
“Shaya! Wait!” I croaked.
“No!” Shaya spat. “You can’t save them now Vin.”
She dragged me out of the building and across the street, before she let up enough that I could regain my balance and stand on my own.
I glanced around, no one was present to see us standing there, but that wouldn’t last. So I took off my coat, and handed it to her.
She took it without a word and covered the most intimate parts of herself up. It wasn’t going to keep her warm, but it might stop her from getting arrested for public indecency.
A loud crash came echoing out from Pat’s pawnshop, followed by something like a scream. I wanted to go back in there, Rain might need help.
I looked at Shaya.
She was resolutely not looking at the store, her eyes running over the street instead. She found my car and started walking in that direction. Wordlesly.
I hurried after her, trying to figure out what question to ask first. We reached the car and got in. I took the driver’s seat and she threw herself into the passenger seat.
“Drive.” She commanded.
I drove.
After minutes of silence I gathered enough courage to speak.
“Sooo…?” I didn’t get around to actually asking a question.
“This is why I left Rain.” She told me, her voice flat.
“You left her?” I was unsure of the implications of the phrase, but I had my suspicions.
“Yeah…” She hesitated. “She is still a friend, but I couldn’t deal with her temper.”
That didn’t shed a light on the details of the matter, but right now wasn’t the time for those thoughts anyway. Shaya obviously needed my help.
“Her temper?” I asked, looking at the road, not at her.
“She doesn’t get pissed, she gets murderous. She doesn’t get sad, she gets suicidal. It was too much for me, so I moved out.”
At this point, I want to make it clear that I was watching the road, and did not see any tears that might have formed in Shaya’s eyes. And if they rolled down her cheeks, that too went unnoticed.
“Were you close?” I asked, feeling a lump of Shaya’s regret form in my chest.
“Very.” She whispered, her voice unstable. “On a good day, she is incredible. It was the bad days which drove me away. It’s why she’s such a recluse. She knows how dangerous her power is, especially when she gets mad.”
“What about Pat and Sunglasses?” I already knew the answer.
“I told you Vin.” Her voice was soft and resiged. “You can’t save them.
I drove in silence then, taking her through the city, to her artist studio. The streets and buildings of the city shared our silence, perhaps respecting our need to ponder what had happened.
When we reached her studio, we went inside without a word. I took a seat on her old but comfy sofa, while Shaya took the shower I had interrupted.
I wanted to talk to her, but I knew it would be stupid to push it now. Instead I looked at the paintings on the wall. All of them were new and all of them were Shaya’s own work.
I had once asked her how she could manage to be so productive. She had told me it was easy, all you had to do was never sleep.
Soon she came out of the shower, dressed in a bathrobe, wet hair falling straight down to her waist. She walked right up and sat next to me on the sofa.
“Talk.” she said, staring at some fixed point on the wall.
“I figured out Rain was a hoarder.” I explained. “That part was easy.”
“Pretty obvious really.” She agreed.
“Then I made a guess.”
“Oh?”
“I guessed that she was more nervous than usual, and I had an idea why that would be.”
“Why did you guess that? And why was that?”
“You like confidence.” I Sent her a frank smile. “So I guessed that you had seen your friend lose her’s, and you sent me in to figure out why.”
She nodded, and she knew I could read the complex emotions hiding in the gesture. She had wanted to help Rain, but without getting too close. There was obviously still some complex feelings between them.
“As to why she was more nervous than normal.” I continued. “The missing piece was her heartpiece.”
I didn’t have to explain to Shaya that some magicals draw powers from their hoards. I did not have to explain that some hoarders gather hoards to protect the one piece which is actually valuable. All their power lying in one treasure, they hide it in plain sight. By placing it between so many other treasures, that any thief will be likely to grab something much less valuable.
“How did you know it was the heartpiece she was missing?”
“Only one thing was taken, and it had a strong enough connection to her for me to track it across town.” I shrugged. “Not a hard conclusion to make.”
“Right.” She shook her head. “So you put on your shining armour and went to bring back the maiden’s treasure.”
“Sure.” I smiled. “It was a matter of principle.”
“How so?”
“I knew the thief had gone specifically for the heartpiece. I knew It wasn’t a magical who stole it. And I had a suspision as to why a mortal was stealing magical treasures.”
“Slow down.” Shaya finally looked at me. Was she impressed? I hoped so. “Explain that again.”
“There was only one thing missing from her apartment, nothing else had been touched.” I elaborated. “That could have been random chance on the thief’s part, but it seemed unlikely.”
“So why do you think the thief was mundane?”
“Rain is slightly paranoid, and pretty damn powerful. If a magical had waltzed into her territory, chances are she would have noticed. So instead someone magical hired a mundane thief to get her heartpiece. Or rather, they had Pat hire the thief.”
“What?” Shaya turned to give me a puzzled look. “Why go through so many hoops?”
“To avoid the trinity.”
“Ah.”
The Trinity were the peacebrokers in the magical society of the city. Three of the most powerful beings around had taken it upon themselves to sort out any disputes between magicals, to avoid causing an uproar that might spill into view of the mundane population.
But if the thief was a mundane, there was no dispute between two magicals, and no reason for the trinity to get involved. And the magical being could then stroll into Pat’s Pawnshop a couple of days later, and happen upon a priceless treasure.
“So Sunglasses hired Pat to hire a thief?” Shaya asked.
“I’m not sure…” I said, chewing it over. “He didn’t seem smart enough.”
“Agreed.” She mumbled. “Hired muscle?”
“Probably.” I conceeded. “Which means...”
“That the real mind behind the plot, and the thief is still out there.” Shaya finished my thoughts.
“Someone ought to do something about that.” I mused.
“And how would you go about that?”
“If I could ask Pat and Sunglasses some questions.” I suggested. “That might shed a light on things.”
Shaya shook her head.
When I looked quizzical, she answered me by picking up the remote control, and turning on her TV. She flicked to a news channel, and soon enough I was presented with the news of a big scale house fire somewhere in Southtown.
Apparantly the fire had started in a pawnshop, and firefighters were attempting to keep it from spreading to the nearby buildings. The cause of the fire was still unknown, and all attempts to contact the owner of the store had met with failure.
I looked at Shaya, and she returned my look with sorrow in her eyes.
“This is what happens when Rain gets pissed off.”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “I guess this case is closed for now.”

On top of that, I found a prompt which ispired me to wriete this little 1395 word snippet:

Spoiler: The Painkiller Chronicles

Show

Jim looked at his watch.
Ten minutes to close and he was alone at the pharmacy. He wasn’t supposed to be alone, but Olivia had slipped out early. It was an emergency she said, but then everything was an emergency with Olivia.
It wouldn’t have been a problem, if it wasn’t for the costumer. She was a tall redhaired woman in a long canvas coat. She’d come in a bit earlier, when Jim was busy selling a thermometer to an old lady who wouldn’t stop talking. Now she was apparantly reading all the text on every jar of moisturizing skin cream.
At this rate Jim would have to either ask her to leave or wait with closing the shop until she had left. He had a suspicion that she was really just hanging out to avoid the rain outside, so asking her to leave was probably the way to go.
He was just about to step out from behind the counter and go ask her if he could help her, when the bell went and another unwanted customer stepped into the small pharmacy.
A long blue rain coat and a grey hat, both dripping all over the floor, combined to hide the man’s features as he came towards the counter.
Jim forced himself to smile the trademarked welcome smile, and sound cheerful as he spoke.
“How can I help you today sir?”
The man said nothing, just stepped forward, spilling rain in puddles as he went. He slowly lifted a gloved hand and pointed straight at Jim. Then came the words.
“You…” It was like an accusation, the voice was like gravel stroked by sandpaper. “...Have.. been.. Found.”
“Excuse me?” Jim had to be helpful towards customers, but this was a bit wierd.
“You… will… be… taken.”
The man reached the counter as he spoke, and Jim peered under the gray hat, and saw no face in there. A swirling mass of darkness specked with small, shimmering dots of light stared back at him.
As he stood there stunned, the stranger reached over the counter and grabbed his sleeve. He pulled back, trying to get away from the thing, but the stranger was stronger than him.
Whith a hard yank the man pulled Jim off ballance, and he had to brace with his free hand, to not fall on top of the counter. Before he could right himself, the stranger reached out with his other hand.
The glove had disappeared, and the hand was just a swirling cloud of star-specked nothing. It touched Jim on the cheek, and the world disappeared.
A sharp edge of crystal clear pain split Jim’s entire being down the middle. He could not sense anything but the intruding hurt and the complete agony that followed with it. His sight blackened and his ears feed him senseless noise.
For all practiacal puposes, the world no longer existed. There was only the pain.
Then there was a tugging sensation, and a sudden relief. He almost fell to the floor, as the world blossomed into existense around him, but he grabbed the edge of the counter and managed to keep himself standing.
The sound of a sharp impact drew his attention and he looked sluggishly for its source. When his eyes finally focused, he saw the stranger again, raincoat now flapping open in an nonexisting vind.
The other guest, the redhaired woman was pushing him back, kicking and punching at him. I hadn’t noticed before, but this girl was ripped. Thin sinewy muscle sure, but it seemed to get the job done well enough.
But the cloud of nothing in the raincoat, did not seem too worried about getting punched. He staggered slingly, but then righted himself and reached out, deliberately touching her chest with one swirling cloud-hand.
A ripple of almost visible pain flowed into her, and Jim could see her muscles tense with it. He fully expected her to loose her grip on reality the way he had.
Only she didn’t.
She hessitated only for a moment, then she punched it again, and again, three times. Right where the face should have been. There was a reaction, but it was a small almost shrug-like one.
Then there was a stirring, and an even harsher wave of pain rolled from the thing. It was intense enough that Jim could feel his skin prickle from three yards away. He did not want to imagine the pain the woman felt.
But she kept coming, pushing the thing away from him. He had to help her. But how?
The thing was made of pure pain, how could you fight… He stopped the train of thought and remembered where he was. He was a pharmacist, fighting pain was his damn job.
He turned to the cabinet behind him, the one with the most sold pills in it, always withing reach when people asked for them. He knew exactly where the thing he was looking for was. He barely even looked, he just yanked the glass of pills off the shelf and tore the lid off.
The woman and the thing was almost locked in an embrace. The thing pulsed and swirled sending agony through her, and she retorted with punch after punch.
With a flick of his wrist, Jim send a cloud off pills flying roght at the two of them. The small white tablets bounced harmlessly off the womans back. Where they met the swirling darkness which comprised the pain-thing’s body, there were convulsions and spasms.
The thing let out a screeching sizzling sound and drew away from the pills now scattered on the floor. And tt let go of the woman.
She didn’t even hesitate, in a fluid motion, she dropped to one knee and pulled something from her right boot. Jim chugged another handfull of small white tablets at the thing and it retreated again.
Then the woman sprang forward and planted a long knife straight to the hilt in the things chest area.
A long second of silence.
Then the monster popped like a waterbaloon. Shimmering darkness splattered everywhere and then disappeared as soon as it had settled.
And Jim and the woman was alone in the shop. All that was left of the thing, was a raincoat, a hat and a set of gloves.
She turned slowly toward him, a satisfied grin on her face. She lifted the knife slowly, glancing down at it.
“Thanks for the assist buddy.” She said, her voice oddly calm.
“Uh…” Jim muttered. “No, thank you.”
“What the hell were those pills anyways?” She lifted one eybrow inquisitively.
“Tylenol.”
“Nice,” She said. “Those bastards really don’t like symblism.”
“What?” He asked on reflex, then hurried to add. “What was that thing?”
“Paineater.” She shook her head slightly. “Kinda misleading. They don’t eat pain, they fill people with pain, untill it kills them.”
“What… who…” Jim didn’t know what to ask. He ended up with: “How do you know that?”
“I hunt the bastards.” Her eyes moved slowly over the shelves behind him. “I have to know.”
“How could you even…” He was about to ask why she hadn’t been completely overpowered by the pain, when he noticed. Her eyes wasn’t just moving slowly, they were sluggish. And her pupils were constricted. “You’re drugged? You’re completely hopped up on pain medicine?”
“And bee keepers wear those silly net suits.” She smiled a mocking smile. Then she gestured at the glass of pills in his hands. “Now, how many of those glasses can you legally sell me?”
“I don’t think I should sell you any drugs.” His professional ethics answered for him.
“Party pooper.” She said wryly. “Let me warn you though.”
“About what?”
“I found you, an that one found you.” She gestured to the raincoat on the floor. “Theres bound to be more of them coming for you sooner or later.”
“What should i do?”
Get a blessed silver blade.” She held up the knife, the silver blade shimmered. “Religion is irrelevant, but faith does matter.”
She knelt in front of the counter, putting the knife back in her boot. It seemed like that was the end of the conversation as far as she was concerned.
“Who are you?” He asked, still overwhelmed.
“Well, since you ask politely.” She shot him a confident smile. “You can call me Painkiller.”
And she turned and left the store.

[Some Android]

Got my art up.

[Icewalker]

So, I decided to go NaNo pace on writing for March, meaning I started on Wednesday. I'm at 7704 words, so it's going well.

Here are a few of my favorite segments from the writing I've done so far this week!

Spoiler

Show

Chapter Thirteen
In which Shamgar Doesn’t Listen

The small box sat on Peter’s doorstep, wrapped in light paper.
“Oh, no.”
“Is that-”
Devi nodded. “Yes, it’s the same as the one that was at my door.”
Devi approached very slowly, still supporting their injured leg with a crutch. The letters on top of the package spelled out ‘PETER SHOEHORN’ in the same simple block lettering.
“Be careful.” Franz was practically standing on the other side of the street. “We don’t know what sets these off.”
Devi backed cautiously away from the small package. “The last one exploded when I touched it.”
“Uh,” Peter swallowed, “Let’s not touch it then.”
“We can’t just leave it.”
Franz grimaced. “Given the dust around it it’s probably already been there for several days at least.”
“We’re lucky nobody has tried to steal it off his doorstep and gotten themselves blown up. Besides Peter has to go back into his house eventually and it’s not like we can leave a bomb right outside the door. It wouldn’t be twenty minutes before he forgets it’s there and trips over it on the way to the store. No offense, Peter.”
Peter shrugged, eyes still locked on the box. “Honestly I’m flattered you’d give me that long.”
“What if we made it explode on purpose? From very far away.”
Devi blinked. “That might work. The collateral damage would be pretty bad but I’m not sure what other options we have.”
Franz looked between the two of them nervously. “What might work? Are you talking about setting it off intentionally?”
“Oh goodness, am I going to have to replace my front door too?”
“Anybody have any better ideas?” Devi asked, hefting a fist sized stone that had been loose in the street’s cobblestones. “No time like the present: nobody’s nearby.”
The four of them made their way to the corner of the building across the street, taking partial cover behind it. Devi leaned on the wall so as to drop their crutch, taking aim with the stone. Franz stood to the side, keeping his view of the box.
“Here goes nothing.”
The stone sailed through the air and impacted the box with a solid thwack, then bounced and skipped to a stop on the ground.
“Huh. Hey, Peter, do you still have the spare metal bars from when you had your back fence repaired?”
“Yeah, there are a few lying in back. Want me to grab one?”
An extremely nervous prodding with the five foot long fencing posts produced no response from the box either.
“Is it...is this one not a bomb?”
“Ah,” Franz twisted his hands around nervously, “I wouldn’t assume as much. It’s possible the trigger can differentiate between the touch of an inanimate object and a person.”
“Well...could we handle it with gloves, then?” Peter suggested.
“I wouldn’t count on it. Still, it might be possible to move it if we can get the box on top of something that could be lifted.”
“Hey! Peter don’t you have a small wheeled dolly in your basement? The one we used it to move that statue last year.”
“Oh, peachy! I’ll just go get it.” Peter turned towards the house, then froze after two steps. “Uh. How do I get around the bomb in the doorway?”
After several rounds of deliberation and a halfling lifted to crawl in through his own window, the board was retrieved. Shamgar propped the dolly against the package while Devi carefully shifted the package over onto the board by pushing it with the fencing pole. After several very tense minutes, the paper-wrapped package sat on the wooden board clutched in Shamgar’s hands.
“...now what?”
“Good question. Where do we take this thing?”
Franz pointed south. “Throw it in the port. We find the longest pier we can, and huck the box off the end of it and into the sea.”
The trip was a slow and anxious one, with Shamgar tightly gripping the edges of the dolly, supporting the quite heavy package. The group approached the first long pier in sight, and Shamgar made straight for the end of it.
“Hey! Who’re you? What’re you doing?”
Devi grabbed the orc standing guard by the shoulder and yanked him back away from Shamgar. “My friend Shamgar there is a thousand year old survivor of an ancient civilization and he is carrying a large bomb which was mailed to my friend Peter and which we are going to dump into the bay off the end of your pier.”
“Hello,” Peter waved.
“Oh and he doesn’t speak Damai so he couldn’t understand you anyway. I recommend you don’t intervene. Or stand anywhere near him. Or distract him with any further shouting.”
Shamgar trotted to a stop at the edge of the pier.
“Just hurl it out as far as you can!” Devi shouted from a very far away safe distance.
Shamgar flexed his arms, readying to try to throw from the odd position of a box sitting on a board. He glanced down.
His thumb was touching the side of the box.
After a lengthy consideration, Shamgar slid his thumb away and out of contact with the paper. Nothing happened. He put it back, with a grunt of interest. Shifting the dolly around to support it with one arm, Shamgar very tentatively brought his free hand around the top.
“Shamgar what are you doing? Throw it!”
He tapped once on the top of the package with a finger. When this action also provoked no response he scratched at the brown paper, catching and tearing a small strip. Beneath the paper was a box of thin wooden slats held together by nails. Removal of a little more of the paper made it clear that the box inside offered no apparent method of opening.
“What in the hells is he doing!?” the pier guard was at this point closer to hiding behind Devi than standing in their way. “Didn’t you say that was a bomb?”
“Yes! Yes I did! It is! Shamgar what in the hells are you doing!?”
“It’s not exploding!” Shamgar shouted back.
“Yes you are correct now please hurry and throw it in the ocean before it DOES!”
“Hang on!” Shamgar put his fingers to one end of the box, getting leverage on one of the wooden slats. With a crack, it snapped as he tried to pry it open. He pulled off the broken half of a slat, getting a view of the box’s contents.
“Are you insane!?”
“It is filled with something inside! It is solid, white and heavy, thick like clay. I have not seen such a thing. Do you know what it is?”
“I DON’T KNOW PROBABLY SOMETHING DANGEROUS! Throw it in the water, Shamgar!”
“But we could learn something!”
“I don’t need to learn anything more about explosions!”
Shamgar contemplated whether or not to touch the material itself. Perhaps he could pull off a small piece for the others to look at more closely.
“Shamgar. Please do not die on me. I can’t handle that again.”
Shamgar concluded that touching the substance inside was probably a line too far. With a swing of his arms, he hurled the box into the bay. After a few moments, it sank down beneath the surface. Shamgar walked back over to the others.
Devi looked exhausted leaning on the crutch, sweat across their face. “Never do that! What were you thinking?”
Shamgar shrugged. “There were no problems. What do you think the material was that the box contained?”
“Presumably it was something that explodes,” Devi muttered. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Over the past five minutes as Shamgar sat whittling in Devi’s apartment, Dusty had been slowly been edging closer to the Eder warrior. Shamgar noted the small child from the corner of his eye, but focused on the carving in his hands.
“What’cha making?” asked Matta, a young girl and another of the kids Orvic took care of. She rocked back and forth where she sat cross-legged on the floor, watching the small curls of wood flick off of the piece and drift to the ground.
“She wants to know what you’re working on,” Peter translated into Surrian.
“Oh! It is a new flute. I lost my last one some time ago, and must replace it.”
A pair of very small hands patted onto the fur around Shamgar’s ankles. He looked down to find Dusty sitting on the floor, eyes wide, petting Shamgar’s earth-toned hair. Orvic was watching from across the room. Shamgar recognized the look in her eyes, an intense alertness, ready to protect those in her care. She was trying to look like she wasn’t paying too much attention to what was happening, but clearly was not entirely engaged in her conversation with Devi. Shamgar smiled towards the young shepherd, bending down and lifting Dusty up onto one knee, leaning over to offer his horns to the young child. Dusty stared, mystified and delighted, reaching up to feel the broad curling ram’s horns. He said something in lisping Damai.
“He wants to know why one of your horns comes to a point and the other is flat at the end,” Peter supplied.
Shamgar nodded. It had taken him many years to get over his self-consciousness about the tiny break that had taken the very tip off of his left horn. Now, far gone from his people, he had eventually come to accept it. “It is quite a tale. I would tell it, at least if you are able to translate the words for me, Peter.”
Peter nodded enthusiastically. “Of course!” It took a beat before he remembered to pass this message to the children as well. Matta enthusiastically shouted assent at the offer of a story, while Dusty just nodded, still enthralled.
“Well then. The tale takes place in a small valley long long ago, where a young shepherd had a very big problem…”

Chapter Fourteen
In Which Shamgar Tells the Story of How He Chipped His Horn

“The young shepherd had called for help from his king, for his village was in a terrible predicament: Their sheep had been disappearing one by one at the hands of a terrible monster, and nobody knew what to do. So the wise king sent two of his greatest warriors to defeat the monster and rescue the village.
“Simple you say. But it was not so easy a task as it might sound! You see, while the warriors were ready to slay the beast, the beast itself was not so keen on the idea. And to make matters worse, nobody in the village knew where, or even what, the monster truly was! Unwatched sheep would simply disappear, with nothing but a few tufts of wool left behind.
“So the two warriors searched and searched, but they could not find hide nor hair of any great monster, and there were no footprints anywhere they looked. And sheep continued to disappear. So the two warriors watched and watched, but the moment they looked away, poof, one of the sheep would be gone, with nothing but a few tufts of wool left to mark where it had stood only moments ago.
“Eventually, the two warriors struck upon a new plan. If they could not find the beast, and they could not spot the beast, then they would have to set a trap for it. And so the two warriors built a snare. They knew nothing about the size of the monster save that it could carry off entire sheep in the blink of an eye, and so they made a large large trap, sitting out in an open field with a live sheep waiting in the center as the bait. And they waited, and they waited. And when the warriors finally looked away for a moment, poof, the sheep was gone and the snare sat on the ground untouched, with nothing but a few tufts of wool left behind.
“At this rate the village was seriously running out of sheep, and the warriors were worried. They were determined to protect their people, and yet they had no idea how to catch the monster. No matter what they did, it always got away with the sheep. It was then that one of the warriors realized how to catch the monster for sure: they would make it come for them. So the two warriors took all the little tufts of wool left behind from all of the stolen sheep, and made a big poofy white sheep’s wool coat. And one of the warriors wore the coat and crawled around alone in a big open field, waiting for the monster. The other of the two looked away, and with a triumphant (or possibly panicked) shout from the disguised warrior, poof! The monster snatched them up! And the other warrior looked up after his companion’s shouting to discover that the monster was not a beast of the earth after all, but a bird! They had finally found the monster, but now it was flying away with one of the two warriors in its talons!
“The still-grounded warrior ran after the monster, following it far below as the gigantic vulture ascended up into the sky. He ran and he ran, and on the vulture flew, and he ran, and he ran, and still on the vulture flew. But he would not abandon his friend, and so he kept running and running. And eventually, after a whole day, the vulture reached a tall, tall spire of stone rising straight up out of the mountains, and perched in its nest up up high above the earth. And so the warrior began to climb.
“The stone was rough, and bit into the warriors hands. But still he climbed, higher and higher. He climbed so high that the earth fell far far away below him, until everything looked small. But still he climbed, higher and higher. The air became thin, and snow and ice on the stony pillar made the warrior’s hands very very cold. But still he climbed, higher and higher still. He climbed all the way up until he was higher even than the clouds! And finally he reached the vulture’s nest.
“And just in time, too! For the other warrior had been desperately fending off the monster, and had only barely managed to avoid being eaten: Because you see the vulture still thought he was just a surprisingly well armed sheep. And the two warriors finally got the fight they had been looking for, high high at the top of the mountain, amidst the bones of the many sheep which the monster had already devoured. The fight was long and heroic. The monster’s talons and beak were as hard as steel, but the warriors weapons were blessed by the gods, and they had the faith of their king to drive them forward. And in the end, the warriors were triumphant! One had had part of his horn chipped by the sharp beak of the monstrous bird, and the other had been scratched badly down one cheek by one of its talons, and ever after the people of the village remembered how the two warriors sent by the great king had protected them and their flocks.”
Peter relayed the last of the story to the children, his tone and gestures dramatically appropriate to the tale. Dusty clapped his hands excitedly, nearly falling off of where he sat on Shamgar’s knee.
“And that is the tale of my I chipped my horn, fighting a monster alongside my brother in arms, Lemuel.”
“So, I have to ask, Shamgar: Were you the one who climbed to the nest, or the one in the sheep costume?”
“So many questions! It is getting late, where’s Franz? I thought he would be back with the supplies he is fetching by now.”

[jseah]

Theme suggestion: For !!SCIENCE!!

Must not forget to update!

1710 words for Hero's War

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Landar came out of Kupo's laboratory to find Cato sitting in one of the chairs just outside in the corridor.
"Hey, are you all right?" she asked, looking him over.
"I'm fine. "
With his face in his hands, Cato wasn't looking 'fine'.
"No, not if you're like that," Landar persisted in her questioning. She was not going to let Cato avoid admitting he was not feeling well. That was her habit!
"Was that guy still alive?"
Landar blinked. How was that relevant? Cato was sheltered on his world, that much Landar could tell just from talking with him, but she expected him to be disturbed by the blood and body parts. The alchemist shrugged, that softness was part of what made him interesting after all.
She said dryly, "being shot in the head tends to be quite fatal. "
Cato shook his head. "I mean, was the man still alive before you experimented on his body?"
Oh! So that's what he was worried about.
"Minmay gave the bandit to us when I asked him. We had some destructive tests to run on lifeforce, and human ones were preferable for accuracy," she huffed, "I may have had a light episode but even when I'm crazy I wouldn't kidnap random people off the street and cut them open. I'm crazy, not murderous. "
Cato didn't respond to her attempt at levity, rubbing his face with both hands. He looked up at Landar with uncertain eyes.
"And it doesn't disturb you to experiment on people? To just kill in cold blood because you needed a warm body to test a theory on?"
What. Hm, this had to do with that culture gap with the Tsar bioengineering thing, didn't it? Landar said as much.
He just sighed again and shook his head, "this isn't... I mean, you really don't see anything wrong with experimenting on people?"
"He was a criminal, confirmed to have killed at least five merchants and guards, unknown but many incidents of theft, armed violence and general disorder. " While he wasn't the worst of the worst, it was enough that Kupo had had no qualms performing the execution. The truly bad ones Minmay had wanted to keep to make an example of.
"And that justifies you killing him outside a legal execution? Like an animal, less than human? " Cato's eyes had a strange intensity about them, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.
"What's this about?" she asked. It was a little confusing when it was her turn to run into this culture gap business, Cato had always handled it well on his side and she was sorely missing the practice now.
"It's about basic human dignity. If we can't afford that for criminals, how are we better than them?"
Still not making sense. Landar wrinkled her nose and decided to flip his argument. "It's about practicality. Where else am I going to get people to experiment on?"
Cato almost retorted but just like he always had, he took a breath and visibly restrained himself. What was that muttering? She listened carefully, he was just repeating 'different culture' to himself over and over. Huh.
"Maybe we have different ideas about what it means to be a person," the otherworlder let out a long breath, "I shouldn't judge. "
She winced. Hey, if he was still having doubts about her, he should clear them up, not swallow them. Despite appearing to settle down, his disapproval was still rolling off him like waves. She had an urge to correct him, somehow letting this issue go did not feel right to Landar.
"I'm not about to kill people who don't deserve it, not even people who might agree if we paid enough," she said, wondering why she was trying to justify basic logic to Cato, "if you say that even criminals who have discarded their humanity should be afforded this dignity, then who wouldn't be? Next you're going to tell me that we shouldn't research human lifeforce at all!"
There was a pause.
"Wait, really? You really think we shouldn't study lifeforce?" Landar could hardly believe what she was hearing. Or not hearing.
Cato recovered admirably but a little too late, "it's... all right. I won't say anything. Just continue. I'll work on the mana currency and flight projects. "
And not help her with this, he didn't have to say. "You'll at least help with analysis and theory?" she asked.
"Let me think about this first," he waved her off, shuffling down the small corridor of the research building, "I can't do this right now. Maybe later. "
Landar watched him go, feeling vaguely uncomfortable in her borrowed medical gown. Absently, she scrubbed at a bloodstain with the sleeve. Argh, why?! Just when she thought she understood Cato, he had to go do something incomprehensible like this!
"Hey, twenty third is coming in now," Kupo stuck a head out of her room, wearing a fresh gown, "you should get changed and clear out the body parts if you want- is something wrong?"
The alchemist and the doctor held a gaze for a long moment before Landar shrugged. Whatever, she would deal with Cato later. Those experiments weren't going to conduct themselves.

"We will have to stop him," exclaimed one of the nobles. The king didn't acknowledge the woman, but many turned to her and nodded as if to themselves, but still moving enough for others to see their support. "Sir, we can't let him build that!" she turned to Ektal, "Minmay will become unstoppable!"
"Bold. But it had to be said. " "A bad conclusion. " "Ruining the balance of power. "
Once the first spoke up, the other nobles saw their chance and they added their voices in support. The king let their mutterings wash over him for a moment before raising a hand to cut them off.
"Draken, has Minmay even started building anything? I have received no reports of any projects under construction, certainly nothing like a flying machine," Ektal said to the spymaster. To the man's credit, he didn't crack a joke.
"The University is raising a new building and requesting small parts from the Ironworkers," Draken sighed, "getting details on what they are is frustratingly difficult, but no, he has not started the construction of a flying machine. "
"Wouldn't you think that a flying machine would be an exceedingly difficult project? It could take years," Ektal noted, "a few years might seem like a short period but in these times, who can say what will happen? No, enough wailing, I'd rather focus on what we can do now. "
The king turned away from Draken, unspoken was the fact that efforts made to learn the secrets of flight from Minmay would continue unabated. He regarded the nobles clustered opposite the small room, "what of our living fire production?"
"The phosphor mines in Ranra have been expanded at our urging," the spokesperson for their group stood up nervously, looking at her compatriots for support, "together with the new black oil distillation building, we have a large facility in Centra and Ektal city, with smaller refineries in Aldir region. I expect by next month, our production will outstrip Minmay. "
Living fire, being a 'simple' liquid, was one of the few successful projects in standardization. The Ironworkers were still unable to duplicate Willio's feat of interchangeable parts and production of spellcannon and new model guns was still reliant on Minmay to provide the enchanting circles in the first place. At least fire shells, enchanted ceramic bombs that held the liquid, did not have very strict tolerances if you had a generous safety margin.
"What of the accidents? We can't afford to keep burning down buildings every few weeks. "
"I developed a new process," the spokesperson suddenly gained confidence, clearly this topic was something she personally had a hand in, "with sufficient precaution, our valuable skilled personnel are not endangered. "
And the others were just peasants that didn't matter. Oh well, good enough, he supposed. Ektal nodded, "your work sets a good example. You have my permission to expand to four thousand people across Ektal and Aldir territories. I hear there are more findings of oil on our side of the border with Inath, so look into getting an oil well for ourselves too. "
She bowed happily and sat down. The other nobles in the room kept their faces carefully neutral but it was obvious they were jealous. Despite the inherent difficulty and danger of manufacturing fire shells the producers of such a potent weapon were being trusted with a lot of military power. Anyone could throw one after all.
"Where are we going to send the living fire to?" asked one of the mayors whose town held a refinery, "it's hard to get any transport for it, no merchant can be persuaded to carry the weapons, we have to hire knights to move them. I have half a warehouse of extremely dangerous bombs that I would like to get out of my town. "
They didn't blow up for no reason, but one or two accidents with a stray lamp or torch had caused... incidents. In one case, the stone warehouse had burned for hours and melted down to its foundations and everyone in that town had to be evacuated in case of Fire Rain. No one was going to forget that day.
Given the persistent rumours of instability, fire shell storages made poor neighbours.
Ektal nodded and addressed the nobles. "Chancellor Aldar is negotiating with Ranra to sell them shells produced in his territory. He has my blessings, you will have to wait until he has an agreement before moving them. I also have an agreement with Minmay, his city will supply Wendy's Fort, our and Central Territory's production will transport our shells to Fort Yang. I don't want any stockpiles to be built here in any of your towns and villages. Small sales to the knights are permissible but no more than four shells per party is allowed. "

[LeSwordfish]

Another blog post, this one 1889 words.

[Glass Mouse]

Status for the week February 27 - March 5!


Glass Mouse passes with a drunken elf and 3505 words of short story.

Lycunadari passes with six different character drawings.

LeSwordfish passes with 1889 words of video game review.

jseah passes with 1710 words of Hero's War.

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

Icewalker passes with 7704 words of MarchoWrimo.

Xiander passes with 3338 words of Vin story, and 1395 words of prompt.

Some Android passes with six faces.


Thus, Artman77 FAILS this round!

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


Current standing:

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Glass Mouse
Current run: 38 weeks
Longest run: 290 weeks
Themes: -

Lycunadari
Current run: 217 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

LeSwordfish
Current run: 39 weeks
Longest run: 24 weeks
Themes: -

jseah
Current Run: 56 weeks
Longest Run: 33 weeks
Themes: -

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

Icewalker
Current run: 22 weeks
Longest run: 13 weeks
Themes: -

Xiander
Current run: 35 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

Some Android
Current run: 2 weeks
Longest run: 42 weeks
Themes: -

This week's theme (March 6 - 12), chosen by jseah, is For !!SCIENCE!!.

Next week's theme is chosen by Artman77 - let me know in PM or announce it in this thread, and I'll include it in the next status.

---

[Icewalker]

Well I fell off of my NaNo pace very hard, and very abruptly. Still wrote 2505 words, but that's drastically short of the 11666 I theoretically am supposed to have written in the last seven days. Ah well. I'm catching up, which was my real goal anyway.

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Chapter Eighteen
In Which There Is a Desperate Visitor

Devi awkwardly approached the wall surrounding the Garden Quarter carrying a letter from Cahya Utana in one hand and a case with several of their finds from the third dig site under their arm.
There were two guards waiting outside of the gate. That was odd. Devi waved the letter as they approached, “I’m here to visit the Utana family.”
“Stop here, gotta see your proof of that and check you for weapons.”
“Check me for weapons? Seriously?”
“What’s in the box?”
“Some artifacts from an archaeological dig I’ve been at over the last few weeks. Couple statuettes, a mosaic. What’s with the increased security? Usually I barely get a second glance on the way in here.”
One of the guards glanced over the letter as the other looked in the box. “What, haven’t you heard?”
“No? Archaeological dig, remember?”
“There were two more murders in the Garden Quarter.”
“Really gruesome stuff,” added the second guard. “Stuff in the box is fine.”
“Wait, what do you mean two more?”
“How long you been gone? The whole thing with the Matan kid, like a month ago.”
“Oh. I had heard, I didn’t realize it was a murder.”
“I mean it sure wasn’t natural. Body was all torn up, hunks out of it like he was eaten by a big animal.”
Devi raised an eyebrow. “And you’re out here looking for people with knives?”
“Man, shut up Rasha, they don’t need to hear that kinda thing. Hells, I don’t need to hear that kinda thing. You’re good ma’am, go ahead.”

The Garden Quarter managed to stay green and opulent despite the recent strange burning weather. The streets had already been cleared of the ashen buildup, and most of the plants had not suffered too badly in the intense but short heat wave. Nonetheless Devi noted a small layering of ash still lay on many hard-to-reach eaves and awnings of the extensive and ornate manors that made up all of the buildings in the wealthy central district of the city. The city had not been ruled by a Sultan for nearly seventy years. Trade ruled Kota Ombak now, and the ports were its palace. Nonetheless, the Garden Quarter had persisted, a walled-off haven of immense wealth and luxury for the once-nobility. They were also a vital source of patronage for poor but aspiring archaeologists. While the social maneuvering could be very tricky, some of the younger nobles in the families here took interest in Devi’s work. Whether the interest was real or just an excuse to brag didn’t really matter to Devi, or so they told themselves. As long as more expeditions got funded, and they could still afford to eat. And which one of those two options took priority for Devi wasn’t always clear.
The Utana household was among the largest in the whole district, one of the three manors that included parts of what was once the Sultan’s palace. Devi waved from behind the front gate to a groundskeeper sweeping ash out of the crannies of a small statuette. “Hi, I'm here to see Cahya Utana.”
The older man contemplated Devi for a few moments before muttering in a gravelly voice. “I'll go get ye somebody.”
“Great, thank you!”
Some minutes passed before a young orc in well fitted robes of high end fabric came to the gate. He looked over the visitor with suspicion. “What do you want?”
“I'm here to see Cahya Utana, like I told him.”
“Why?”
Devi bit back a sarcastic remark. It was a bad idea to piss off the family of their last reliable patron in the Garden District. “She expressed interest in buying some of our finds from an archaeological dig, as display items.” Devi hefted the box.
The young Utana man frowned. “Let me see.” He snatched the offered letter, reading it over twice. “Hrrrm. Fine. Wait here.” He walked over to the groundskeeper, again interrupting the man's work, and whispered something to him. The man turned and shuffled quickly away into the palace as the noble returned to address Devi. “Alright come on. And stay where I can see you.”
“You seem real on edge about all this.”
“What are you trying to say?” the man snapped.
“Nothing! Nothing meant by it. I think it makes sense with what's happened.”
The comment seemed to only raise the man's hackles further as he led Devi through the wide and beautifully adorned hallways of the old palace, grinding his teeth.
“In here.” He pulled open a heavy pair of wooden double doors adorned with green and red patterns in the shape of desert palms, their interior side hung with a heavy red and gold tapestry. The room inside showed more of the same beautiful interior decoration. The chamber was built with pale stone and looked as though it might have once been an armory, long ago refurbished into a beautiful dining room with long table and a dozen chairs. Devi stepped inside and the door was slammed shut behind him, leaving the room lit through rows of lanterns and strained but pleasant sunlight streaming in through thin slits placed evenly along the far wall, looking into a garden. The stone of the wall was weathered and chipped in many places, unusual for the perfection of the manor's usual decor. Perhaps it held some historical significance.
“Devi Sunjaya!”
“Ms. Utana,” Devi turned to give a bow to their host.
“No difficulties in getting here I hope?”
“The new security? Didn't give me too much trouble, though I got rather a cold welcome arriving here.”
“Ohh was it Kalim? My cousin can be such a pain.” The orc woman crossed her arms with a scowl. “I'm sorry about all that.”
“It's fine, it's fine,” Devi waved it off, “I see you've put up several of the pieces I sold you before.” The finds had been placed tastefully in some of the alcoves along the walls, and Devi noted happily that she had followed their advice regarding proper conditions to store the artifacts, and which were best kept behind full glass covers to be preserved. Maybe she had some appreciation for the historical value of the pieces after all.
“Of course! My grandmother may not approve but she doesn't come in here, so the old woman can suck a stone.”
Devi quickly tried to turn their laugh into a cough. Even if it wasn't appropriate for them to join in, they took pleasure in the fact that at least somebody could take shots at Ashanti Utana, the bitter old matriarch. Cahya noticed the deflection with a grin.
“So,” she sat, “show me what you have. You said this is all from a new dig site?”
“It is, my colleague Peter Shoehorn...located it. An Eder military outpost. But here, I think you would appreciate this.” Devi produced the new, fully restored mosaic. “This was restored by an artisan at the temple of Calaraja back to its original state. This one isn't for sale, but you can see the full color and style of an original Eder piece, without the thousand years of wear and tear.
“It's beautiful! The precision in this stonework is gorgeous. Is this an actual sky showing the stars? It's so different.”
“It is, the stars have shifted quite a bit over the last thousand years but we've actually consulted an expert and determined a location based on this starmap. We're planning to arrange another expedition in the hopes of unearthing a fourth dig site, perhaps the location of the depicted battle.”
“That's so exciting! I would love to fund you, but the desiccated hyena that calls herself my grandmother would never approve and I don't really have the free reign to do so myself now that I'm not supposed to leave the manor grounds.”
“Oh, the killings?”
Cahya nodded her head, eyes on the floor. “Yes. She's very worried about them.”
“I don't suppose we can fault her for that.”
“No. I don't suppose we can. Please, show me the other things you've brought. What was the site like? Were there lots of skeletons still clutching their ancient weapons, buried in the sand?”
Devi chuckled. “Nothing so dramatic I'm afraid.”
The conversation was pleasant, and Devi was glad to have somebody actually interested in their work to talk to. They deflected questions about their limp, now improved enough thanks to healing magic to not require a crutch. They wanted to put that whole affair out of their mind. Cahya bought several of the statuettes which Devi had brought as collection pieces at generous prices. It wasn't enough to wholly recoup expedition costs, but it would make a nice reprieve from their money problems.

“So what was behind that strange weather? I am still getting ash out of my clothing.”
Devi stoked the fire. “I’ve never heard of anything like it, but Peter actually found some historical reference,” they nodded to the halfling. “Hey Peter, what was it you said about the ash?”
“It stuck out in my mind. The moment I saw it I knew I’d read something about it before. It turns out there used to be heat waves just like this all the time here! With black clouds and ashen rain and everything. Usually months apart, but they weren’t uncommon. But here’s the thing: nobody has seen one for a hundred and fifty years. They just stopped. The historical record is pretty vague about it all.”
As Devi translated for Shamgar there came a beating at the door. It was not a knock, but a frantic hammering. Devi pulled open the door and Orvic nearly fell onto them, tears streaming down her face.
“Orvic? What’s going on?”
“Matta and Dusty. They took them. They’re gone.”

[Xiander]

This week I did a couple of shorter stories, just working of promts to keep my steam up.

The first one is my own take on a creation myth, inspired by both norse and greek myths, but ultimately my own

Spoiler: Star Thief (1501 words)

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There was at first, not much to see.
It was in the darkness of the beginning, that the seven Cildrin came together and decided to make something from nothing.
First Malachai the Eldest, sculpted the world from shadows and spiderweb. Then the younger Cildrin took turns to add something of their own.
Olgar and Willith breathed their essense into the hollow shell, thus bringing colour and diversity to the world.
Were Olgar’s essense settled, water sprang from the dusty ground. It welled and pooled, forming oceans, lakes and pools.
Wilith’s breath fell gently on the now moist ground, and whereever it landed, green would sprout. Grass, flowers, trees and every sort of plant sprang forth from her essense.
Next came Ar, and he saw the beauty of what was, but abhorred its stillness. The water lay unmoving, and the trees were as permanent as the rocks beneath them. So Ar took his own essense and from it he made movement, which he imparted onto the world.
The skies began to move and make wind. The oceans and lakes moved to make waves. Trees grew and set down seeds. Everything started moving in patterns so complex only Ar himself could puzzle them out.
Gorgrin saw the world lush with plants, wind and water. Still he felt that it seemed dull and dead to him. So he borrowed stones, water and wood from the virgin world and he made sculptures of these things. From the water he made all sorts of wet and writhing creatures, and he called them fish. From the wood he carved lithe figurines, every one of them a winged being, which would take to the skies. And from the stones he made beasts of all sorts, which would walk the land on all fours, living off the forests and the streams.
Then came Mellis, who wasted no time. Hardly even pausing to consider, she took part of herself, not just her essense but a part of her body, and she sculpted it into several figurines.
These were unlike the beasts and birds made by Gorgrin, for where his were wild and fanciful, Mellis had made figures which resembled herself. She had tried to vary them certainly, but they were all somewhat alike. The ones she called humans were most like her. The Elves were taller and thinner, the dwarves were short and stocky, but they lacked the diversity of Gorgrin’s creations. With a touch she gave them life, and she set them on the world to live along the beasts, birds and fish.
When Mellis had taken her turn, all of the Cildrin turned to Rhynn. They were eager to see his contribution, but he did not immediately do anything.
Instead, he watched.
And as they all wanted to see his act upon the world, they all watched with him. To begin with, they all looked on, enraptured by the growing life on the world, but soon most of them faltered and found less interest in the thing they had created.
They would watch it now and then, but in between they would leave to go elsewhere. In the end, there were only two of the Cildrin watching constantly.
Rhynn, the youngest. And Malachai, the eldest.
The younger of the Cildrin sat hunched, watching closely how the Humans, Elves and Dwarves struggled to tame the world, but were largely unsuccessful.
The eldest, took some distance, curling around the world, watching with a thousand eyes, not making any comment on the unfolding events.
The inhabitants of the world looked up and saw the thousands of lights in the sky, they could not know that the lights were looking back.
As the youngest of the Cildrin watched, it became clear to him that the children of Mellis would not survive, if they were to be left alone. So he pondered what he could do to help them.
When he finally made his decision, he knew there would be no going back.
Rhynn waited patiently, for the eldest of the Cildrin to doze off. Once Malachai felt the calmeness of sleep upon him, Rhynn left his seat by the world, and moved silently to the side of the sleeping elder. With one swift motion, Rhys stole one of Malachai’s eyes.
From the surface of the world, the children of Mellis looked up to see the brightest of the stars suddenly wink out.
Before Malachai woke, the youngest Cildrin had taken his leave of the realm beyond, and hid himself on the surface of the world they had created together.
He clad himself in dark robes and hid his face, fearful that the Elder Cildrin would see him and take his revenge. He travelled the world, calling himself the Pilgrim. One by one, he sought audience with the leaders of the children of Mellis.
He came first to the humans, and stood before their king face hidden but palm held up to signal peace. The king asked him why he had sought audience, and the Pilgrim drew the stolen star from the folds of his robes.
Even to behold the stolen star, was enough to nearly break the mind of the king. So Rhynn took a part of the essense of the eye of Malachai, and left it with the king. Thus he granted the first human king the gift of fire, and the king would use it to build a great empire.
Second, Rhynn sought out the elves, showing the remains of the star to their elders. Even with some of the essense missing, the star was still too splendind a sight for the elders to comprehend.
Once more, Rhynn broke some of Malachai’s essense from the star, and he gave it to the elders of the Elves. The light of Malachai settled in the elves, granting them a deep magic of their own. With this gift they took to the wildernes, living side by side with the beasts and thriving better than ever before.
Rhyn took the remaining piece of the stolen star to the Lord of the dwarves. He expected the dwarf to be unable to look straight on the splendor of the star, but he was surprised.
When he showed the last bit of the star to the lord, the dwarf reached out to take it, without even flinching. Without the fire and light of Malachai, the star was a gemstone the size of a fist, and more splendorous than any other gem. The essense of Malachai left in the stone, granted the dwarves an afinity for earth and metal, and they made their homes under the ground, crafting the most spectacular things with their bare hands.
It looked as if Rhyn had done his part, and secured that the children of Mellis would survive and thrive.
But while Rhyn had travelled, to uplift the children, Malchai had awoken, and found his eye missing. In a rage, he called for the rest of the Cildrin, and they came to hear his claim.
“Go onto the world.” Roared Malachai. “For I cannot, my touch would shatter the ground and ruin our masterpiece. You must go there, find Rhynn and take my eye and his life from him. Only the one who returns with my eye shall be allowed to return at all.”
And five of the Cildrin descended upon the world, seeking every corner to find Rhynn and take from him his life and the eye of Malachai.
Olgar prowled the seas and rivers. Willith walked lithely through the forests of the world. Golgrin ran with the wild beasts and flew with the birds in the sky. Mellis walked among her children, asking them to find her kin for her.
But it was Ar who found Rhynn first.
He had given the world movement, and he understood the patterns it moved in. He followed the pattern and at it’s center he found Rhynn.
They met on a mountaintop, far above the clouds.
“Give me the eye.” Said Ar, calm as always.
“I cannot, it does not exist anymore.” Responded Rhynn.
“Then I shal take your eye instead.” Said Ar.
They fought on that mountaintop, for days on end. The mortals who heard the roar of the battle thought the mountain would split into two, but it held.
It was on the fifth day that Ar finally struck Rhynn to the ground and took his eye from him.
“Malachai wanted me to take your life.” He said, still calm as ever. “But I will not slay my own kin. Instead I shall take your movement. I will leave you here to watch the world you have made, as I take your eye to Malachai.”
And Ar returned to the realm of the Cildrin and brought Rhyn’s eye to Malachai.
Rhynn still stands motionless on that mountain watching the children of Mellis build a world of their own. Watching four of his siblings roaming the world, their path home forever cut off.
And he watches the stars, and they watch him back.

Secondly an experiment in trying to write a story were the narrator is speaking straight to the reader. It was an odd experience, as there are a lot of things you cannot do in the same way as when writing first or third person.

Spoiler: Welcome to the Riot (475 words)

Show

Quickly, follow me.
Look, I know you don’t know me, but take my word for it: You don’t want to be on that street in five minutes.
Okay, we can climb the fire stairs here and get to the roof. Don’t look at me like that, I am just trying to help you. Before you ask, I know there is nothing dangerous going on right now, but seriously, take my word for it.
Damnit, we don’t have time for you to give me a polygraph test. So let me tell you the situation. Your car stopped for no apparant reason. You tried to call for a towtruck or mechanic or something, but your phone suddenly had no reception. So now you are walking to somewhere were you can borrow a phone to call for help. Right?
Of course I am right. How did I know? Never mind that. Just listen here. In five minutes this place is going to be hell. If we get to hight ground now, we’ll stand a much better chance.
I am going up these fire stairs, you can follow me or not. It’s up to you.
..
..
..
Right.
Top of the roof. Lets just catch our breath, we need to be ready when **** goes down.
What kinda ****?
Bad **** mister, super bad ****.
I know you probably didn’t notice this, but you weren’t the only one whose car broke down just about half an hour ago.
That’s the first sign, complicated technology starts failing, about an hour or so before the main event. Then there are the storm clouds. Yeah, you’re right to look up. It’s gone completely overcast in less than half an hour. And if you listen carefully you can hear the whispers. That’s the third sign. Barely audible whispers, no matter where you are.
Look, I am just trying to explain what is goin on, you don’t have to stare at me like i’m crazy. I would try to prove that I am not, but I suspect the world will do the job for me.
Yep, I was right, look down on the street.
What is that, you ask?
Let’s think it through. More or less humanoid, seven feet tall with horns and claws, reddish brown skin, burning orange eyes and an obvious hunger for carnage. I think demon is the closest term we’ll find on short notice.
Yes, I did just imply that a demon has randomly appeared in the middle of a street. And yes, I have seen this before. I have been seeking out incursion sites to observe and monitor. I know how this goes down, and I might need your help to get out alive.
Oh look, our horned friend has companions, I count at least four down there now. I am so glad you volunteered to help me.
Welcome to the riot.

And lastly, a small bit of fluff, written to be cute, and to see if I can write something without having to put fantasy elements into it.

Spoiler: Dandelion Tales (395 words)

Show

It was a beautiful summer day.
The blue sky, dotted with marshmallow clouds, and the generous rays of sunshine combined to paint a picture of the warmth and wellbeing.
It was almost inevitable, that it would end in war.
It is hard to say who started it. Perhaps Max decided to deploy his weapon first, or maybe it was Lea striking the first blow. The details are lost to history, but some facts remain.
During the hottest hours of the day, the two of them chased each other relentlessly, all over the gardens, taking up shelter behind bushes and trees. They both tried to give the other better than what they got in return.
Max wielded his water gun with an overeager lack of precision, and Lea retorted by flinging water balloon after water balloon at him. The grownups looked at them and shook their heads.
It was a wonder that the two could display that amount of energy in the summer heat. Perhaps the water served to cool them down, or perhaps it was just the power of youth.
Whatever it was, it had them fighting the same fight for hours on end. Both of them were completely drenched by the one hour mark, and yet they carried on. More and more weaponry was introduced, Max had a big collection of waterguns, and thus the fight remained entertaining for both the participants and the audience.
No one kept a score of who won the war that day, and even if they had, it would have likely been a tie.
It was not until three hours past midday, that a truce happened. It came just as suddenly as the beginning of the war. One moment they were pelting each other with water, the next one was chasing the other.
Then the chase was done. They plopped down onto the grass, surrounded by a host of dandelions, and they lay on their backs letting the sun dry them while they looked at the small tufts of cloud drifting by, pointing out what each little cloud resembled.
Much later, when they had both grown up and gone to study at different schools for different degrees, they would remember that day.
He would remember the blue sky and the white clouds. Again and again he would recall the garden, the grass and the dandelions.
She would remember him.

[jseah]

Only 338 words for Hero's War. =(

Spoiler

Show

Ka circled above and behind the army of black dots. Zombies dotting the foothills leading up to the Snow Wall was not a welcome sight. Not when he was trying to gain entry to the very same valley they were sitting outside off.

"No way in?" Tiki asked as he swung back to their group, waiting for him in a high altitude soar over a thermal.

Ka waved a wing in negation, "no, they have nightcryers with them, I saw three or four flights in the air. Who knows how many on the ground. "

"Flying zombie nightcryers," Tiki shook his head, "it gets worse and worse. "

"It's strange that this army is less than half the size of the big one that attacked last month, but they're better organized and seem more intelligent than before," Ka noted. Indeed, zombie attacks were known for their reckless charges regardless of the odds.

Whoever heard of zombie armies camping?

But that was what this army seemed to be doing. If the almost daily attacking groups were now waiting here instead of attacking, that might explain this build up into an army. It didn't explain how the supposedly mindless zombies were now showing signs of tactical ability, if not suicidally attacking fortified defenses could be considered tactical ability.

Still, that didn't help Ka's group get home. The army was blocking the way into the valley with more nightcryers than Ka would want to face even with the entire Clan Two, much less their little group of four, one of whom was injured and flying poorly.

"We'll have to go around, take our chances with the peaks to the side," Ka said finally.

Tiki frowned, "you're proposing flying over the Snow Wall itself. You realize that the air itself freezes on your feathers if you go that high?"

"We shouldn't have to go that far to stay out of sight of the nightcryers," Ka paused, "but we'll wear all our fabrics. Just in case. "

But 1201 for a start of a worm fanfic (again! I know!) that I posted to Spacebattles.
https://forums.spacebattles.com/thre...#post-32493298

If you include the analysis and planning of the time travel superpower, that would be well over 1.5k by itself.

[Artman77]

No art for me this week.

Theme? SPLATTERED

[LeSwordfish]

This week I made six game levels: one, two, three, four, five, six.

[Glass Mouse]

Status for the week March 6 - 12!


Glass Mouse passes with thirty-ish city photos, and four pencil drawings.

Lycunadari passes with five photos and two people drawings.

LeSwordfish passes with six game levels.

jseah passes with 338 words for Hero's War, and 1201 for a Worm fanfic.

Artman77 did not upload/send me anything.

Icewalker passes with 2505 words of MarchNoWriMo.

Xiander passes with 1501 words of creation myth, 475 words of a narrative voice experiment, and 395 words of feel-good.

Some Android did not upload/send me anything.


Thus, Artman77 and Some Android FAIL this round!

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


Current standing:

Spoiler

Show

Glass Mouse
Current run: 39 weeks
Longest run: 290 weeks
Themes: -

Lycunadari
Current run: 218 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

LeSwordfish
Current run: 40 weeks
Longest run: 24 weeks
Themes: -

jseah
Current Run: 57 weeks
Longest Run: 33 weeks
Themes: -

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

Icewalker
Current run: 23 weeks
Longest run: 13 weeks
Themes: -

Xiander
Current run: 36 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

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

This week's theme (March 13 - 19), chosen by Artman77, is SPLATTERED.

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

[azaph]

So I joined, then immediately missed a week.
Good going, me.
Anyway, I think I'm still under the deadline for this week (depending whether it's the beginning of Sunday or the end of it). So I'm just gonna put 1254 words here, K?

Spoiler: Words

Show

Tarel stared for a moment at the needle which would kill him, and wondered whether he should stick it in his arm.
Given that he was not, in fact, suicidal, one might think that the answer to this question would be rather obvious.
The thing was, ultimately, he knew he had to. Because what was in it, was mana. Enough to make her make him one of the most powerful wizards alive.
And enough to kill him. The average wizard, who had taken a normal dose, would usually have about a year (as long as they didn’t go into withdrawal). This much? He’d be lucky to live a whole day.
It was not a trade anyone would normally be willing to make. Even for the most fanatical person alive, it simply wasn’t efficient. Almasa herself was coming here, along with her great army of monsters. The diviners had seen her come, and she had seen them in return. And now they were dead.
Noone was sure how she had done that - she had a habit of doing things that normal wizards simply couldn’t - she’d had three years, and they only got one.
So, they needed him. Or, not him, but they needed someone who could reshape reality at his whim, just to have a hope of holding her off.
He brought the needle to his arm - and stopped dead. Involuntarily, the muscles in his arms tensed and fought against him. No matter how much he wanted to do this, there was a part of him, a primitive part, which knew two things - that that needle meant death, and that he would really prefer not to die. And so, his body fought him as he tried to slide the needle into his arm.
Oh, wait, of course - he needed to tie off the arm before he did it! Had to be sure of getting it all into the bloodstream, or this would be pointless.
And so, he tied a piece of fabric tight around his arm, and found a vein in his arm. Took the needle in hand… and his arm stopped again, the needle once again pressed against the skin, but not quite breaking it.
He stood there for several seconds, frozen, then once again removed the needle from its resting place on his arm.
This was stupid.
He didn’t have a wife or children. He wouldn’t be sacrificing much - not that his was a bad life, but he was young, he hadn’t built his life yet. That was why he had volunteered.
He thought of the helpless people of Otchay, crushed under Almasa’s heel. Of the town ruined and crumbling. And he thought of himself, standing between Otchay and that fate. Protecting them. Helping them. Even bringing down Almasa for good - that would help anyone. Sure, if he lived forty more years, he might make a difference, but what difference might he ever make that could outweigh what he was doing now? Determined, he once again brought the needle down. But once again, it stopped. His muscles rebelled, and for all the sense it might make in his head, he was not really ready to die.
It was fine. He had, if they were right, hours before she arrived. Plenty of time to get used to the idea.
Briefly, he wondered what it would be like. Not death - time enough for that later - but the time before it. Would it hurt? Would he feel the drug coursing through his body? What would it be like, to do magic? Would he see the world differently, somehow? It occurred to him that if he focused enough on his curiosity about these things, it might distract him from what was going to come after.
He imagined what he could do, in his day as a god. He’d drive off Almasa, of course, but beyond that… he would be able to reshape the world to his whim.
He had to do it. Just not thing about it, and just do it. Almasa would probably kill him anyway if he didn’t. And so, with a deep breath, Tarel signed his own death warrant.
It couldn’t even be a simple act. Every instinct he had fought him all the way, but he finally managed to push the needle through the skin. And wait, until he saw red in the syringe, that told him that his needle had, indeed, found the vein.
As he started to push, a new problem arose - the agony. It felt like his veins were filled with white hot lead. And it spread, from his arm, to his chest, to his stomach and his head. He couldn’t see, the world in front of him was nothing but red. But he had to keep going, even as the pain intensified. It was worse and worse and worse, and the pain made seconds into hours, then days.
Until, at last, it died down a little - at least enough that he could see the world around him again. Specifically, he could see that he was pushing a completely empty syringe into his arm.
He hurriedly removed it. He didn’t exactly know what what was coming next was like from the inside, but he’d seen it from the outside, and having a needle around didn’t seem much like a good idea.
And then, the world peeled away. Time and space were gone. He was floating above reality, and the mechanisms of the universe unfolded beneath him. He could simply reach out, and… change them. By way of a kind of experiment, he reached out to the winds, and gave them a slight push, laughing as they spun and bounced crazily.
Which was when he was rudely jolted back to reality by the whirlwind that had spontaneously appeared in front of his house, and which was now ripping everything to pieces.
Irritated, he waved it away, and looked at the wreckage of the front half of his home. It was, he now realised, all wrong. Completely and in all ways wrong. It was so dull and functional, where it could be art.
This was, at this moment (or what he was temporarily deigning to call a moment, given that it was now clear to him that time was an illusion), the most important thing that he could possibly do.
Granite, he thought, an intricate relief that would stand in defiance of the elements. Or marble. Marble was traditional. Gold and jewels seemed too garish… Eventually, he decided on rebuilding the entire house out of pure obsidian, covered in reliefs depicting what Tarel considered to be the most important events in history. Most of them hadn’t happened yet, and a few of them would never happen, but Tarel did not feel that this was a particularly important point against them.
For good measure, he made sure that it was a lot bigger on the inside, too. There was really nothing worse than running out of space. Or rather, there were innumerable things worse than running out of space, but Tarel would really still prefer not to, and therefore chose to take precautions.
There was so much he could do now. Things normal people wouldn’t even be able to dream of. He wasn’t sure what to do.
It occurred to him, however, that there must have been a reason he had taken mana in the first place. And, after a moment’s thought, he remembered that Almasa herself was coming to destroy the entire town, and that he should probably do something about that.

(I actually messed up here - I don't want the tech-level for this setting to be high enough to realistically have syringes be a thing. So um... yeah, he should probably spend the first half of the story failing to drink from a cup, if I had time to rewrite it.)

[Icewalker]

Well, my March NaNo lasted about five days before I fell off almost completely.

Which means I wrote a solid 6000 more words than I normally would have in the last three weeks! Totally fine with this.

Anyway, I didn't even manage 1500 words of The Three Truths this week, but that's partially because I had a lot of prep to do for a LARP I was running. Here are a couple character sheets and a little hunk of prose from what I did get done on The Three Truths. Between them they get readily over 1500. Chances are good the same will happen next week as I write sci fi religious literature for another, different LARP, which I'm NOT running. Welp!

Spoiler

Show

Colonel Samal of Iron
-You are a long standing career military commander of high rank. You are very loyal to the system, both the military and the Matriarchs who have authority over it. General Vande, your superior, is a skilled strategist but also tends not to value the lives of his troops as much as a good man ought to.
-About a year ago you encouraged your nephew, Tern of Iron, son of your sibling Matriarch Ayil of Iron, to join the military. He died on the front lines in the fighting, giving his life honorably for the nation. It is always a sad thing to lose somebody, but he made his decision and you respect him for his sacrifice. Your sibling Ayil however has never forgiven you, blaming you for the death. Tern had his own choice, something Ayil apparently doesn’t respect. The hypocrisy of a political leader who has authority over the military but has never been in the field blaming you for this really rubs you the wrong way, and the split between you has been bitter and worsening ever since.
-You have fought alongside Major Durath of Dun a number of times in the past, and she is a brilliant leader and soldier. You’ve saved each others’ lives at least once. You’re certain she would be a Colonel herself if not for social bias restricting the advancement of magical beings, even in the military.
-You are a Spark, with a small thread of magic in your veins. You have kept this a secret your whole life, due to the prejudice that Sparks face. You think magic is natural and reasonable, though the view is hard to reconcile with the opposing views of the church government to which you are loyal. You can use the Unnerve ability at will, and are capable of Healing though it is exhausting.
-Many years ago you came across an implication that the church actually was involved in some sort of long term conspiracy to suppress magic with a special device. If this is true, it would be shocking, but you can’t believe the church would take such brutish action, even if they still view magic as unnatural.
-You are a member of the Spark Rebellion, a movement of sparks and magical beings seeking true complete government reform, a change to a democratic government system. Getting more progressive leaders in power in the church is all well and good, but it’s never going to be enough on its own. The church needs to be removed from the seat of power in government, replaced by rule by the people, or by a representative of all people.

Captain Gyras of the Crashing Wave and fal Faria
-You are an experienced and high spirited captain of a Crashing Wave merchant vessel, spending your life out among the waves and wind. You are a particularly prominent figure among the Crashing Wave family: you are on the Captains’ Council that casts the vote for the Crashing Wave family, and have enough friends and allies who vote with your decisions that you can usually swing the Council on any issue, if you want. It’s generally known that the Captains’ Council votes with your decision.
-You have faith in the church in many ways, but it has failed its people with the ongoing stance that magic is unnatural. As a fal Faria yourself, you have experienced prejudice directed against you by the church as a magical being. The church can and needs to be reformed.
-Your mother was a big supporter of progressive views and civil rights for mages and magical beings. You were very close. She died at sea some years ago when her ship sank, with a major fal Faria civil rights speaker on board. You have long entertained ideas of conspiracy about foul play, and you still have your doubts, but you have been heavily pressured to stop looking and stirring up trouble.
-Your cousin Lord Yana of the Crashing Wave is a slimy manipulative politician. He has long sought power for himself, and has many powerful allies in the capital. He himself is on the Captain’s Council, but you and your peers can usually outvote him on most issues.
-You were on track for an arranged marriage with Heiress Mai of Glass, at the behest of the recently deceased Glass Matriarch. You greatly respect her progressive views, and respect her as a person, but you’re not sure about the marriage arrangement. Your identity as fal Faria and her inevitable succession to the seat of Glass Matriarch will cause all sorts of political trouble for you both, and you really don’t want to deal with it. When it comes down to it, your place is captaining a ship, not on land in the court.
-There is a law being discussed by the Matriarchs that would allow Sparks to take military and government positions, something they are currently barred from because they are seen as “unstable.” You don’t agree with this, and it’s become more and more clear that it is just an old prejudice of the church. You would like to see the law passed allowing Sparks to hold these positions.

Lord Yana of the Crashing Wave
-You are a clever, manipulative, and ambitious politician. Technically you are a ship’s captain in the Crashing Wave family, though you’ve always delegated that authority to a subordinate: you can’t stand the endless boring treks back and forth. The only reason you’ve kept the title is that it lets you remain on the Captains’ Council, giving you a vote towards certain major affairs.
-Nonetheless, your cousin Captain Gyras, a featherhead fal Faria who flaunts old church tradition, tends to control the council. He has many allies who vote with him, and consequently he tends to decide the direction the council votes on national issues.
-You are seeking to pass some legislation with the help of your major political ally Lord Alera of Glass which will establish a Council Representative in time sensitive situations and emergencies who can cast a vote instead of the Captains’ Council. If the legislation passes, you will be made the representative, and in important matters you will usurp the council’s vote however you care to.
-Lord Alera is seeking the position of Glass Matriarch, since the recent death of his sister. If you can become Council Representative, the addition of the Crashing Wave vote to his cause will make his election to the seat a real possibility.
-Several years ago, you and Lord Alera conspired to ensure that a Crashing Wave ship sank in an “accident,” killing the very politically troublesome captain as well as a fal Faria speaker who was stirring up serious dissent. That captain happened to be the mother of Captain Gyras, your aunt. You’ve kept the truth well hidden, however. You have also managed to cover the trail of your involvement, and if worst comes to worst, you could use this murder as blackmail against Lord Alera, as there is no evidence to incriminate you as being involved.
-You have unearthed the fact that Heiress Mai of Glass is secretly very, very deep in debt due to the poor financial standing of her mother. In fact, the debt is severe enough that with the right application of the law, she could be arrested. Unfortunately, you acquired this information through illegal means, and any attempt to bring the debts to light could get you prosecuted for an act of espionage, and against a Matriarch no less.
-There is a law being discussed which taxes “heavy tools for hygiene and medicine”. In all honesty it’s a tax on effective healthcare for Dun minotaurs. If it was passed by the Matriarchs you stand to make a tidy increase in profit in your shipping businesses, and you’d like to lobby for it.
-You are a Spark, with unnatural magic in your veins. You can cast Unnerve and Tranquil, but doing so also induces the opposite effect on yourself.



The Three Truths:
Chapter Twenty
In Which

“Orvic! Orvic come on. Come on, open your eyes. The kids need you. Get Shamgar!”
Shamgar rushed in led by Franz, to find Devi desperately attempting to begin treating Orvic’s wounds. The bandages kept slipping in the blood.
Shamgar knelt, hands working quickly with steady fingers. Devi fell back to sit on the floor, hands shaking. “Come on, Orvic.”
Shamgar removed the half-wrapped bandages.
“What are you doing, Shamgar?”
“There is nothing I can do. Where is Peter?”
“What do you mean there’s nothing you can do!? There’s...she’s-”
“She is dead!” Shamgar’s teeth clenched and loosened. He turned away, muscles tight in his neck as he resisted the urge to break something with his horns.
“But-”
“She is dead, Devi.”
Franz stood in the doorway. “We have bigger problems, and they can’t wait. We need to figure out where the Caedists are operating from.”
“Bigger problems? What is wrong with you!?” Devi shouted back.
Franz’s expression remained unphased. His tone was firm and the northern accent entirely gone from his words. “We can’t do anything else here. If you’re going to mourn it needs to be later. They took Peter, and they took the tablet and starmap that Alim drew for us. The longer we delay, the more likely it is you’ll be having two funerals instead of one.”
Shamgar growled in Eder, voice low and directed at nobody. “I will find the monsters that did this and I will break them.”
“Devi,” Franz continued in response to the furious silence of the orc. “The children are outside. They need to be put somewhere. Your home is compromised, as is theirs.”
“...Kadek,” Devi croaked, still sitting on the floor and staring at something that wasn’t there. “The carpenter Orvic works for. He’ll take care of them. We’ll bring them there.”
Franz shook his head. “Do they know the route by themselves? The more of us we have looking the sooner we’re going to find where they’re keeping Peter. Besides it’s suicide to confront them without all of us present and prepared, with a good rescue plan.”
Shamgar pushed past Franz and outside, khopesh clutched in his hand, Franz and Devi’s words in Damai meaninglessly flitting past him. “Will gentle winds prevail / Keen eyes to keep the flock / None to leave behind.” The Sacred Language pierced the warm evening air, passing through walls with a single, echoless sound. Shamgar focused on Peter. Those of the flock who were lost would be found and brought to safety. The ancient magic tugged at his senses. “Come. He is this way.”

[Xiander]

I wrote about a prophecy... no, I did not write a prophecy, I just wrote about it. It amounted to 2928 words.

Spoiler: Fallen Prophecy

Show

It started with the dreams.
It was the same every time I slept. I would find myself standing on the top of a mountain, cold and dark surrounding me. And that is where the Red Sage would come to me.
Tall and dark of skin, his hair and beard cropped short, his eyes glowing crimson, he would approach. I would kneel before him, and he would speak.
“Go to the four corners of the world. Find the four chosen seers. Each will give you a verse of the Prophecy.” His voice would ring clear with authority, and when he finished speaking, he would look to the heavens and I would see a bright new star, growing bigger and bigger right above us.
Then I would wake bathed in sweat, and be unable to sleep for the rest of the night.
At first I thought it to be merely a dream. But after a week when Argos, my teacher, asked me why I looked so tired, I shared my night time vision with him. He grew silent and thoughtful. For a long time he did not speak, and when he finally did, his words were grim.
“The man you describe is the Red Sage.” Argos spoke with intent and never looked away from me as he spoke. “The ancients say that he is bound to the fate of the world. The scrolls of Cellak call him a bringer of dark tidings. All sources agree that dreams of him are nearly always prophetic.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, at once fearful and excited.
“You must leave.” Said Argos. “I shall speak of it to your father, you must make preparations. I suggest you ride north first, before winter closes the pass.”
My father took Argos’ words to heart. I was called to him and given money and good wishes, and within a day, I was riding north.
I made it through the northern pass, with winter on my heels. Though is felt overwhelmed to be sent on this journey so suddenly, I still reveled in the excitement of it. I would see the world outside my father’s mansion and learn in a way that my teachers could never teach me.
I knew not where to find the chosen seers, but as I travelled my dreams changed. I would see before me in my sleep, a great lake, its surface permanently frozen. And the Red Sage would stand silently beside me, pointing to the shores of the lake.
I made it to the city of Krannt. It is a city made to weather the harsh winters of the north and shield the people against the cold and the wind. Stone walls close around great halls, all heated by bonfires.
It was by such a bonfire that i spoke to a learned man, a historian and scholar in his own right. I asked him about the great frozen lake from my dream, and he recognized it by my description. He told me that if I wanted to see that lake, I should ride north for four more days along the road. Then I should turn off the main road and follow the trail of tears, which would lead me straight to Taraya the Crying Lake.
I rode north, in the dead cold of the north. It was still early winter, but the wind and snow were determined to let me feel the wrath of these parts. In the north, the towns are few and far between, but I found farmsteads willing to let me sleep in their barns or lofts, and so I avoided freezing to death.
After four days, I found the trail of tears. I felt relief coupled with a certain amount of tense expectation, as I followed the trail to Lake Taraya. It was on the shores of that massive lake that I met the frost seer and he gave me the first words of the Fallen Prophecy.
He was a big man, garbed in heavy furs, sitting on the ice, fishing through a hole he had cut himself. When I approached, he shook the snow from his beard and greeted me by name.
I asked him how he knew my name.
He answered that the Red Sage had told him. And then he spoke a single verse of the prophecy which fell from the sky in four pieces.
He told me that he had found a piece of the prophecy while fishing on the lake. It had fallen onto the ice and burned right through. He had jumped into the freezing water to rescue it. But as soon as his fingers touched the shard of prophecy, it had burned itself into his mind and disappeared from the world.
Since then he had dreamt of the Red Sage and the prophecy each night.
I sat with him that night and shared my food. He shared his fire and his spirits. Not much was said, but we both knew that we were taking part in something bigger than ourselves.
The next morning I rode south, towards the pass. I would have to hurry to make it through before winter made it completely unpassable.
I struggled against the raging winter winds to cross the pass and make it onto the road leading east. It was long journey, and winter had claimed the land and then passed on, before I made it to the border of the Ashlands.
From there I continued east, towards the distant peak of mount Fara. As i journeyed on, the dreams came again. The Red Sage showed me clearly that the second piece of the prophecy would come to me in the shadow of mount Fara.
I came through several villages, populated by the dark skinned Ashlanders. In all of them I was greeted and welcomed. I was told in each village to seek the ash seer at the foot of Mt. Fara.
And i did.
She lived there, in a house hewed straight from the black stones of the mountain. She was dark as the mountain herself, but not without her own beauty.
She told me that she had been struck by a falling piece of the prophecy. It had thrown her to the ground and melted into her very soul. Now she had no choice but to pass it on to me. So said the Red Sage.
I slept in her house, rolling out my blankets and taking up a spot on the floor of the kitchen. She woke me in the morning, and told me to leave. I asked her why, and she only pointed to the plume of smoke rising over the mountain.
“She does not like you here.” She whispered.
And I could feel the will of the mountain in my bones, as I left the house and rode west.
I rode back through the Ashlands and I left the angry mountain behind. The people of those lands saw me and murmered. Prophecies were natural to them, a thing everyone experienced. Still, they knew that I carried a part of a prophecy none of them would ever hear.
It was not without relief, that I left the Ashlands, as spring made way for summer. In the rising heat i rode south to find the third part of the prophecy. My path took me deep into the wastelands, and it soon became clear that I was not sufficiently prepared.
My horse died and my provisions ran out.
I foraged as best I could, but there was precious little food to find in the wastes of the south and no water at all. I was starved and on the brink of a thirsty death, when the roaming people of those lands found me.
I woke up in a tent, a lone woman looking after me. She nursed me back to health, and made sure I was ready to move on, before the band of roamers moved on.
In the coming month, they taught me how to find food and water, they taught me how to make a shelter from the sun, and which hours were too hot for men to work or travel.
I spent the evenings in the company of the young woman who had nursed me back to health. We spoke of many things, big and small. I came to enjoy her company, and in the quiet hours of the night, I wished that I did not have to leave the romaing band.
Then one morning, I woke with a yell, a vision of the Red Sage clear in my memomry.
My hostess asked me what had startled me awake, and I told her of my dreams, of the Red sage, and of my mission.
We were quiet for a long time.
Then she told me to go further south to the Edge of the Garaz Desert. I asked her how she knew, but she gave no answer.
The next morning I took my leave of the roaming band. I trekked southward, headed for the Garaz desert. And when I came to the edge, I was not surprised to find the woman who nursed me waiting for me.
She was the Sand Seer, and she had been watching me closely to see that I was worthy of her words. She had judged me to be pure and so she had decided to meet me here and tell me the truth.
This was where the prophecy fell from the sky and where she found it, she told me. And she spoke her shard of prophecy.
I thanked her. She drew me close and held me for a moment. She whispered into my ear.
“Your path is not an easy one. I have seen you live among my family and I understand that you are good and pure. Some will blame you for the prophecy you bring, but it is not your fault. You must tell them the truth, no matter how much they will hate you for it.”
With that, she kissed me. And I left.
It was a long walk from the center of the wastelands til the green of my homeland, but my journey was not yet done.
I took passage with a trader going west. He wanted someone to protect his wares from the savages of those lands. By this point I had gained the look of a seasoned traveller. My hair was long and shaggy. My chin was rough with beard. I had taken up bow and sword on my way, for bandits were not uncommon in the lands I had braved.
With the trader and his family, I travelled west into the greater Julai Forest.
Soon enough the trees rose around us like silent giants, and with a certain sense of awe, I witnessed as they blotted out the sun with their leaves.
Autumn had covered the land in brown and gold, and still the vast trees held enough leaves to make a roof over us. In the first week I was surprised to hear a racket of something hitting the leaves from above, only to discover that it stemmed from heavy raindrops hammering against the foilage, and failing completely in penetrating it.
The trader and his family was used to the forest and were helpful in teaching me the ways of travel in these parts. The forest was different from the wastelands of the south, the ashlands of the east and the frozen lands beyond the northern pass. Different but not safer.
Still, with the guidance of my companions I soon learned to master these lands as well. I threw myself into the study and leaned which plants were edible and which were poisonous. I learned by heart the shape of the prints left by a host of different animals. I learned to tell by the tension in the air when rainfall was coming.
I was so evelloped in these new studies that I barely noticed the months roll by. Before I knew it we were at the first of the forest cities and were walking the great bridges which stretched between the treetops.
The trader and his family stayed there to sell their goods and buy wares to take back east. Meanwhile, I knew that my destination lay deeper in the forest.
After refesheing my provisions, I left the city, walking alone into the ever darker forest.
It took me two weeks to reach the place my dreams were pointing me to. At a crossroads, by the side of the path, there was a gravestone, tall and gray. It was by this stone, I had met the Red Sage in my last dream, and it was by this stone I waited patiently.
Four days went past, and my provisions ran out.
I scavenged for food among the roots of the trees and found just enough to keep me alive. I must have looked quite worn and tired that last evening, when the wildman found me at the grave.
In my youth I had read stories of the wild folk and their magic. I had always taken to such tales with great eagerness and curiosity. I had thought them fairytales, things to entertain and frighten children.
Such thought disapeared from my mind, when the Wildman stepped out of the forest, the bramble parting before him to allow him passage. He stepped up to the grave, made a simple gesture of respect for the dead, then signed for me to follow him.
Without a word we walked off the path and into the wild forest. I knew how wast this forest was, and I knew that if I were to be left here without a guide, I might walk for the rest of my life without seeing a freindly face again.
There was of course fear.
But I remembered the smoke atop mount Fara. I recalled the stinging winds and frozen water of Lake Taraya. I saw in my mind the mercyless Garaz Desert.
And I resolved to not fear these wild lands.
The Wildman took me far into the depths of the forest. If we walked a full day, I could not tell. No light found a way through the branches of the trees here. There was nothing to show me the time of day.
Strange insects hummed in the air giving of a sparse light, which my guide navigated by as if it was the brightest of lamps.
In the wan light of the underforest, my guide led me to a tree. I should add that calling it a tree seems to me an injustice. Like calling the great Halls of Louana a house.
It was to the other trees of that ancient forest like a mountain, towering over its foothills. So vast that I did not at first recognise it as a single tree. I thought we had come to a sheer wall of earth or rock, only when I moved close did I see that the wall was made of wood.
And my guide sat down under the aincent giant, and did not speak. He had not said a word from we met till that moment, and he did not seem eager to start speaking now.
So I took my place in front of him. I dared not break the silence, in my fear of offending the only man who could show me the way back to the road.
Hours passed, and I felt the forest around me grow tense, as if it had notised my pressence and decided to watch me. I wanted to stand up and leave, but I knew that if I did not keep my calm, I would miss my chance to learn the last part of the profecy.
So I reigned in my awe and terror and I waited.
The, for the first and last time, my guide spoke. The last words of the profecy flowd from him, in a smooth song like tenor.
A feeling of completion welled within me, as the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. And I knew, that I had found what I had searched for. I had completed the task set me by the red sage.
Or at least thefirst part.
We did not speak to each other beyond that. Once his part had been spoken, and the prophecy was comeplete, he showed me the path back to the road, and I started my journey east.
Winter closed it’s grasp around the forest once more, before I saw the edge of Julai forest, and it was under a cover of snow that in finally viewed my home once more. I was greeted by my father and my teachers, and they asked me of my journey.
I told them of the roads i had traveled, of the people I had met and of the things I had learned. I did not speak of the prophecy.
I know In my heart that the profecy was not meant for me. I was the one meant to gather it in those strange lands beyond my homeland. But I was never meant to act upon it.
I will not write the words of the prophecy here, for it would only serve to harm any who might read it. I know that some day soon, the person meant to wield these words will come.
And I will give him the words which fell from the sky, so he may wield them like a sword, in the battles of the end times.
This I know quite clearly after my journey, The end of the world is coming.

[jseah]

Must not forget to post...

800 for a new/old story idea - My mother is a magical girl?!

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Chante ran frantically down the street. The black mist followed behind, passing through people and walls as if they did not exist. Other people didn't react to it, so it was something that only Chante could see.
She glanced behind and whimpered again as she saw the mist was right behind her. She wasn't going to make it. After seeing the man-sized cloud on the corner, she had been sprinting all the way home. Her legs were on fire, but Chante's panic pushed the exhaustion down. Now, one street away, the mist was going to catch her.
What she was going to do when she got back home was beyond her. Home meant safety so she ran towards it instinctively. Why she was running was also unexplainable. The mist radiated... Chante couldn't quite describe it but it was bad. Very bad. As it drew closer, she could feel the wrongness in it.
A sucking sound came from behind her and she put another short spurt of desperate speed, but the sound was born from her imagination and panic. The mist caught up, silently.
It curled around her ankles, she could sense it right behind her now. Even if she didn't look at it, she could tell it was less than half an arms length away. Unfelt and unseen tears streaked her face as Chante tried to outrun it again.
Then around the corner of the street, she spotted her mother carrying a shopping bag of groceries. Her mother was looking around and quickly spotted Chante. The shopping bag dropped out of her hand as if she was seeing something completely unexpected.
Chante cried for her mother, less than ten meters away, but no sound came from her mouth. She couldn't draw breath to shout or scream anymore. Then her mother did something strange. With a determined look on her face, her mother glanced around the ground before pulling a long leek from the grocery bag.
Holding it at the base, with a green leaf at the other end, she looked as if she was holding a stick of some sort. Her mother pointed the leek at her, no it was at the black mist behind Chante, and a ring of yellow light appeared around her wrist. There was a sharp crack and then most of the leek disappeared in a thin beam of light. All her mother had left in her hand was a partially crushed piece of leek stem.
A hole appeared in the mist where the light hit it and the mist halted, all in total silence. It slowly began dissolving away from the edges and Chante collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath. And then her mother was beside her, telling it was all right as Chante clung to the comforting shirt in relief.

"Wake up. "
Chante frowned at the voice. The dark soft space between the bed and blankets was intruded by a soft voice.
"Wake up. "
The voice repeated, soft and gentle. She whined a little and opened her eyes groggily. Her mother was looking down at her, smiling gently.
"Awake yet?" her mother said, still softly. Chante murmured a bit and rubbed her eyes, looking back up at her mother questioningly.
"Come with me, we're going somewhere," her mother continued.
Chante frowned, there was something wrong with that. Ah, her mother wasn't saying it because she hadn't said anything. Her frown deepened. "What?"
Her mother closed her eyes and sighed, "I suppose you can hear me then?" Chante stared up at her mother in wonder, her lips had not moved at all.
Hesitantly, Chante nodded.
"Ah, I was hoping this wouldn't happen. "
What wouldn't happen? Did mother mean that shadow that was chasing her this afternoon?
"Come on, follow me. "
Her mother's voice still in her head, Chante got up, wondering at the strange events. First, the shadow that no one could see; which her mother killed by shooting a leek at it. How? Chante had been too terrified to ask, but she was going to ask tomorrow... this morning. Now, her mother was talking to her without talking.
Her mother went to the window and beckoned to Chante. She grabbed onto her mother's hand and skirt, holding tight as the voice told her to. Then her mother jumped and they went sailing out the window.
Chante choked on a scream in shock as they soared clear over the street. That was not something she had in mind when her mother lead her to the window. They landed on the tiles of the roof opposite, Chante clinging onto her mother for dear life.
"Aha, sorry. It's been a long time since I had to do this," her mother laughed, this time saying it normally, "I've forgotten how scared I was when I first jumped like that. Hold on tight!"
Chante buried her face and held on harder.

460 word for Hero's War

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Much later, the meeting having concluded successfully, the king leaned back against his chair.
"Was that wise? Not to reassure them by denouncing Minmay?" Syphil, his primary advisor and intelligence minister asked, "you're letting Chancellor Minmay be virtually independent. "
"And what would you have me do about him?" Ektal replied lightly, "Minmay can and will refuse any chastisement or summons I give, which would force me to exert force to bring him to heel. In violation of the same peace agreement Amarante has helped brokered. Plus, even with greater forces, Minmay's equipment is inevitably better than ours, any such punitive action will be incredibly costly. "
Draken, who hadn't left along with the nobles, shrugged, "don't be so sure you'll win either. I have word of some rumours that that alchemist has found ways around magical shields, even of the huge disruption domes. "
Syphil raised an eyebrow then frowned, "guns that can ignore the barriers designed by the Hero's party? How certain are you about this rumour?"
The mercenary spy waved a smug hand at government one, "from the whispers among certain summoners' servants, it's not a gun. Or not a normal one. Something that Minmay himself banned Landar from talking about. "
Syphil and her master winced at the thought of yet another secret project by that alchemist. Then Ektal shook his head, "let's not get distracted. As I was saying, it will be difficult for me to force Minmay to do anything and trying may cause him to finally decide to declare himself ruler and break away into his own principality. He's certainly well-loved enough in his territory and has consolidated power sufficient to avoid most of the issues. "
"And you don't want to give commands you won't be sure will be obeyed. That will only undermine you worse with the rest of the nobles. "
King and spymaster shared a sigh at Draken's voicing of something that neither of them needed explaining.
"So, what are you going to do about it?" And of course, he expected to get more work because of the situation. Not that the spy was wrong.
"For now, nothing," the king said, "even accounting for the effect on the balance of power in our country, we are not so shortsighted as to overlook the long term benefit of Cato's University. So, if we cannot exert influence through military power as is traditional, then we shall do so by other means. "
"Ah, the dewdrop method," Syphil said.
"Indeed," Ektal nodded at her, "No doubt, Minmay will also attempt the same, after all the military calculus works in reverse just as well. "

Amarante looked around the streets of Minmay from her perch on the carriage.

414 words for The Watchmaker (yet another new/old idea)

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The woman walked up the staircase of the tower, countless crystals of unknown mechanisms and properties making up the floor.
Each step bringing her closer to the end.
At the top, waiting beside a fantastically complex magic circle, stood Cozen. The dark lord. Destroyer of countries. Slayer of gods.
Her childhood friend.
Dressed in a simple brown shirt and pants, Cozen looked barely changed from when she last saw him all those years ago. His face held no lines of worry, none of the strain and hate he had faced down the Hero with, just before capturing her.
She spared a glance for the smaller girl standing beside him, poor little Aiote. Her younger sister. Now she might as well be Cozen's doll, her love for him held absolute despite everything he had done.
Cozen smiled sadly, "you have come. "
"Yes," she sighed, "you have won. Arcia, the Duke, the Hero, the elves and even the gods of light. You have broken them all, shattered their power and brought everything under your domain. None remain to stand against you. "
"And so, finally, you have come to talk. "
They looked at each other and she held his gaze, willing him to understand, "no. I have come to beg. What made you do this? All of this?"
The dark lord laughed, sad and bitter, "finally someone bothers to ask. Ironic that it should be you. "
She blinked, past events that never made sense suddenly becoming clear, "you mean... this war, no, this crusade of yours was started because of a childhood promise? Our promise?"
"It started that way, it certainly didn't end that way," Cozen smiled thinly, "I wouldn't say this was what we intended with that promise. "
"No. Definitely not. " She remembered that day she left him, a promise to return to his side, a promise to work together to make the world a better place. "How..."
"I think it was around the time when the Hero came to me and destroyed my works. That was when things began to escalate out of control. " Cozen huffed, looking beyond her shoulder at a past only he could see. "The church, the Hellenia nobles and the elves kept the cycle going and there was always one larger force trying to crush me. At some point, I became known as the new dark lord without even knowing it myself! I was quite surprised when the Hero showed up with you in tow to subdue me. "

[LeSwordfish]

Over the last week, I wrote 9556 words of Let's Read.

[Glass Mouse]

Status for the week March 13 - 19! Sorry for the lateness.


Glass Mouse passes with two pages of scripts and five pencil drawings.

Lycunadari passes with one food photo, four pencil drawings, and a painting.

LeSwordfish passes with 9556 words of Let's Read.

jseah passes with 800 words of magical mom story, 460 word for Hero's War, and 414 words for The Watchmaker.

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

Icewalker passes with 1500+ words of The Three Truths and LARP prep writings.

Xiander passes with 2928 words of prophecy story.

Some Android did not upload/send me anything.


Thus, Artman77 and Some Android FAILS this round!

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


Current standing:

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Glass Mouse
Current run: 40 weeks
Longest run: 290 weeks
Themes: -

Lycunadari
Current run: 219 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

LeSwordfish
Current run: 41 weeks
Longest run: 24 weeks
Themes: -

jseah
Current Run: 58 weeks
Longest Run: 33 weeks
Themes: -

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

Icewalker
Current run: 24 weeks
Longest run: 13 weeks
Themes: -

Xiander
Current run: 37 weeks
Longest run: -
Themes: -

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

This week's theme (March 20 - 26) is too late to choose.

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

---

[Glass Mouse]

Hey peeps, just a quick reminder to remember to upload or post your stuff for this week

[jseah]

Must... not... forget...

654 words for the magical mom story.

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A few jumps later and they landed in a small park in an unfamiliar part of the city. There was a woman in a long dress, like her mother's, waiting there.
"Anise! It's been a long time!" her mother said telepathically as they landed.
"Ah! Eliza!" the woman directed back at them, "And your daughter?"
Chante hid behind her mother's skirt, the strange woman was too forward for her liking.
Her mother laughed as she rubbed Chante's hair, "Yeah, she's eight now," and the voice grew more serious, "and she can hear us. "
Anise's face became serious as well as she looked at Chante, "I guess it was always going to be that way. You heard Florence's call?"
Her mother nodded, "Almost missed it because we were too far away. I hope she's ok, I just destroyed a shadow today. It was going after Chante. "
Her mother held her close, she was glad for the reassuring touch. Anise bit her lip as she considered Chante again, "why are they coming again?"
"We never really knew why they stopped," a new voice joined in the telepathic conversation.
Steph landed on the grass silently. Chante knew her, that was mother's friend who lived two streets over, she had played with... Ralph and Ran were with her! Chante waved happily at the twins, the adult conversation forgotten. They were a year older but Chante had played often with them.
"You can hear them too?" Ralph said as he pointed up at their mothers.
Chante nodded and Ran butted in, "Of course she can, otherwise she wouldn't be here. "
"I didn't know our mothers could just think to us," Chante piped up.
Ralph looked up at them, the conversation in their heads going right on with the three women just looking at each other. But Chante had the common skill of children where she could tune out adult conversation to talk with friends, and the telepathic one was not immune to this.
"Do you think we could learn to do that too?" Ran asked, but none of them had the answer.
Chante fidgeted a little in the cold wind. Wind? She was cold but there was no wind. She looked deeper into the park and said worriedly, "Shadow?"
The adult conversation stopped. Her mother looked down at the children and asked in a serious voice, "what shadow?"
Chante pointed at the source of the bad feeling, "There's a bad thing. Coming from that way. "
She clutched at her mother fearfully, who looked at Anise. The woman faced that direction and squinted into the trees. "Maybe. She's sharp if she can pick this out without looking for it. "
Chante's mother gave Chante a strange look and said sharply, "Ok, Steph can you take care of the children?" After aunt Steph gathered Chante and the twins to her, Chante's mother looked at Anise, "Can you set up a firing position? That roof back over there," she pointed at the house away from the park and the bad feeling, "would be good. "
Anise nodded with a slight smile, "You're still as good as the old times," and jumped right over their heads and onto the roof.
Steph put a hand on Ran and Chante's shoulders, "Stay close," and closed her eyes. Chante looked down at the ground as a circle of light appeared around them, lighting up the grass and night air in a thin barrier that drove the shadows out. The bad feeling disappeared. Chante stopped holding onto Ran's hand so tightly. Were they safe now?
Then a sea of shadows swarmed out from under the trees. There were so many! Chante couldn't count them and they blurred through each other. Chante's mother eyed them, standing some ways in front.
"We can handle this much. Magic only, no physical effects. "

984 for Hero's War

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"This is an amazing city you have built here," she remarked, watching the bustling street part around the honour guard. Even a visiting queen passing through could not stop the hurry of people going to and fro. The queen turned back to Minmay and Cato sitting with her, "such life and energy that even I can feel it in here. "
Cato looked at the Chancellor, wondering what the queen was talking about. Minmay merely matched Amarante's smile and nodded for her to continue.
"Look around at the people," she gestured at a group of workers in plain coveralls. The hammer and anvil emblem on their shoulder identified them as employees of Willio's ironworking company. The group glanced up at them then continued on to their shifts with a respectful bow to the queen's procession. "Few have time to spare to see a foreign queen, their craft calls them from place to place ceaselessly. I can see that the work here never stops. Not even at night I presume. "
Cato wondered how the queen had guessed at the presence of the night shift when the very idea was foreign in all of Inath. Then he remembered that they had passed close to the foundries and she must have recognized the new street lights for what they were, despite them being quiescent during the day.
"You are correct, Queen Amarante," Minmay said respectfully, "the tempo of our industry is great and ever accelerating, in no small part due to the efforts of Cato and the University. "
"Nonsense, such accomplishment cannot be the work of one man or even one organization," the queen replied, with a touch of approval, "the various interests of finance, guilds and workers must cooperate in order to create such smooth function. Truly, it reflects well on your leadership, chancellor, to be able to bring such disparate groups together into harmony. "
"The same can be said of yourself, to raise the Federation to where it is today and managing the conflicts inevitable in the Greater Circle, those who do not understand the magnitude of that achievement do you a disservice. "
"A little humility never hurt anyone, Minmay. " Or perhaps it was good to be underestimated, Cato thought but didn't say.
Both of them seemed satisfied of that little dance of words and the queen's smile turned to Cato.
"Well then, Cato, what about your achievements?"
He twitched involuntarily, looking to Minmay and receiving a bland smile that was no help at all.
"I hope you're not expecting me to dance with words like the chancellor over here," Cato said.
Amarante raised an eyebrow for a moment then laughed, really laughed instead of the polite tittering from the earlier conversation. "I noticed," she said, "Morey tries but he can't play this game either. An interesting world you come from, to have such honesty. "
"If you picked two random people from Inath, what are the chances a noble or prominent merchant able to flatter like the best will be picked? As I understand, neither I nor Morey are politicians or even experienced in the sort of leadership you perform. "
The queen nodded, "a fair point. Then I shall speak plainly. Tell me, Cato, do you see yourself as a Hero?"
The capital letters were definitely audible. He drew a long breath, stalling to find some inoffensive words, "that depends on what you think a Hero is. My idea of such may not be the same as yours. "
"According to our stories, a Hero led the people to this world. Heroes fought on both sides of the Great War and later, after the Great Migration to lead us back to these lands. It is said that in our current time of need, a Hero will arrive to lead the people to victory over the monsters. Most stories of such victory mention a Sword forged by the First that will be instrumental in doing so. "
The same as Earth then, a legendary figure usually of great martial ability. "I very much doubt that," Cato sighed, "I was a scholar on Earth and I cannot use magic unlike Morey. If you want a warrior, I'm not it. And for all of Morey's developing leadership skill, his companions are better fighters than he is. But if you are satisfied with destroying the zombies through sufficient applied fire then I suppose I can be your Hero. "
Her look of confusion spread to Cato, he had no idea why that concept was difficult. "But what else could you be, if you intend to destroy the monsters? I assume you are intending such, of course. "
"The concept of a Hero is of a single figure of importance. In what way can I do more than any random soldier in your armies? I am from Earth and my knowledge of engineering and experimentation is what sets me apart. If you want to call me a Hero for this, then do so, it is just a title. But it won't change what I can do or will do. "
Cato watched the queen closely as he explained, in slightly fancy terms, that he was not going to conform to her idea of a story. Morey had warned him about this before and there was no telling what she might do.
The small gentle smile told him that there was nothing to worry about. Amarante sighed and looked back out at the bustling city, "so you are not the Hero I am looking for. But no matter, if you think the monsters can be beaten then that is all that really matters. "
She continued in a brighter tone, "I really should have spent more time with Morey before sending him off on his quest. I am a collector of stories and you are from a different world. Will you tell me your stories from your Earth?"