Tamwyn's Realm of Random Writings

[Deleted]

"I've been here before."

Soft, fluorescent light fills the interior of the box I'm in. From where I'm sitting, I can see slight scuffs in the grated metal floor from a million soles. A slight vibration runs through the seat, every now and then interrupted by a chakka-chakka-chakka of unsteady progress. Whenever we pass a turn, I sway opposite from it without even thinking, a slight squeal sounding from outside.


"I've been here before," I whisper, long-buried memories floating sluggishly to the surface. The familiar and faint smell of unwashed bodies is absent from this place, but along with the floor scuffs, there are also stains in the plastic seats nearby. A sense of unease ripples through my breast, fear of the underground subsiding into disorientation as the déjà vu hits me.

"Yes, you have," a warm, honeyed voice issues from my left.

Standing there is a well-built man with a leonine aura about him. Perhaps it’s the light brown suit and slacks that lend the image, or maybe it’s the neatly trimmed beard set low on his chin that reaches up into curly, styled hair. I can see his eyes from where I sit, filled with mirth that is strangely enhanced by the slight smirk he carries.

"I know you." My hands reach for the metal pole in the center of the aisle of seats and I stand, bringing myself even with my companion's gaze. Half-remembered images of a white, shining light rush through my mind, the tone of its radiance just as warm as this man’s voice. Safe, it had chimed then, a feeling I begin to understand now.

He nods slightly, his eyes never leaving mine. "Of course. We've met more than a few times, James."

"My name's Jim," I reply in turn, slightly off-put by his familiar tone.

"Jim, then." A moment of silence stretches between us. I take another look around and lean into another turn. The windows are dark, punctuated every so often by a flash of light. I can feel a pull at my chest each time I see the flash, a yearning to explore welling up in me that I haven’t felt since I was a child in the streets.

"Where are we going?" I ask, returning my gaze to the man in front of me.

The man opens his mouth as if to reply, but only smiles with a slight shake of his head instead. "That's up to you, as before."

I avert my gaze and stare at the handholds hanging from the ceiling, chewing on my lip. What does he mean, up to me? If this place is what I think it is, that would mean there are predetermined stops, right?

Motion catches my eye. I look up, startled by the suddenness, half-expecting the man to be have left. But no, he's still there with that soft grin, standing with one hand behind his back and the other gesturing to the now-open door.

"First stop," he says evenly.

I hesitantly walk over to him and stare outside of the car, seeing nothing but an empty station. It's cleaner than any other I've ever seen, with white tile shining and stainless steel gleaming. Beyond the turnstiles, I spy a stairwell leading upward and out of sight. A single sign points up, with letters I can clearly make out.

"A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away," I read, mystified by a new parade of fantastic tales set against the backdrop of infinite stars and possibilities. My hand itches to hold the plastic figures of spaceships and small, famous figures - to let loose my imagination in a place I would never see.

"I don't..."

I hear a chuckle come from my side and I turn to see the man now sitting in one of the seats on the opposite side of the car. "A universe, for you to explore. There are an infinite number of them, but I prefer to have the most familiar ones to your previous life as the first couple of stops."

"My previous life," I echo with a tinge of curiosity, wondering if the man could read my mind. "Does that mean I'm dead?"

He shrugs. "If you wish to look at it that way, yes. You are no longer an existence in your previous life. New Jersey. Earth. The Milky Way." The man pauses and his smile grows further, mouthing, "Your known universe."

"Oh." Shouldn't I feel something? Regret, maybe? I can remember my entire life and... more before that? That chime of light flashed through my mind. "I... see."

The man nods. "Indeed, 'Jim'. Well, would you like to explore this universe? Or shall we continue on?"

"I don't know," I answer honestly, sitting across from him. "Can I think about it? Where else can I go?"

Another chuckle. "So full of questions this time around, aren't you? Humans are always so curious. One of my favorites."

Chakka-chakka-chakka.

"Take all the time you need. There's no hurry," he says, glancing away from me to stare out at the passing darkness. I notice the scuff marks have disappeared from the floor, but I’m strangely unbothered by that.

"Can I go back?" I ask, but I already know the answer. How human of me, indeed.

The man looks thoughtful. "You've asked me that before. The answer has always been 'no'. I admit, I've thought about why that is; why must I say no, why are those paths are no longer open to you? Still, the same answer presents itself. I'm sure you know why."

"I... see," I repeat dumbly, just as the doors open again with a slight hiss.

My companion leans forward and steeples his fingers. "Second stop."

The sign reads Middle Earth. Memories flow by of all the times I enjoyed reading and writing within that universe. All of the characters I shared adventures with through the text of another writer. Yet I feel no attachment to it, no pull in my chest. It's a memory, one to keep and love, but not to live in forever.

"Can I ..." I pause, a curious temptation to walk outside assaulting me. One more chance, a voice calls. "Can I go somewhere... else?"

The man's smirk widens into a full smile. "Somewhere unfamiliar, perhaps?"

"Yes... I think I'd like that," I respond.

I'm no longer in the car, but I can still see, still think. Sights and smells and senses and concepts all wave by, completely different from anything I'd ever experienced before. A sense of wonderment fills me, a feeling I’ve felt many times before.

"Next stop," the voice that's not a voice says. I know I'm where I want to be.

I'm here.

[Deleted]

Blind

“Splish, splash and ripples spread,

like waves of sound within my head,

Do you hear what I can hear?

Do you feel the ripples near?

I can taste the spring so vast,

and smell the water gurgling past.

But do I see what has been changed?

Or was it always prearranged?”

[Deleted]

I Am Here, Always

Whisper now your tithing fears,

that lie ‘tween your little ears,

speak to me and listen close,

for though we stand appose,

I am here for you to see,

so I whisper such to be.

Lift your heart through the endless sky,

fly ‘round the clouds way on high,

Spin 'round in the fields of green,

feel no fear of the unforseen,

for I am here for you to see,

so I whisper such to be.

Speak through the days of deep,

‘neath the waters of dreamland sleep,

whisked away through the torrent,

wish for me and I’ll be I warrant,

for I am always here for you to see.

So I whisper such to be.

[Deleted]

Using the website 750 words, I'm writing about little moments spawned from the stories I've written and want to write. These will be short things, sometimes about nothing. They're just something I wanted to write. Nothing more, nothing less.

------ Break: Master and Student ------
Date: 2013-04-30
Words: 751
Minutes: 28

"Magic is different from how the stories portray it," my teacher said. "Sorceresses and wizards do not pull their magic from the air. No, we pull it from ourselves. And unlike the magic from the stories, your repertoire is limited only by your imagination and the materials you find around you."

I sat rapt, listening to the old grey beard turn to his table and grab a single stone.

"Do you see this stone, my child?" He asked, holding it in front of me as if dangling bait.

I nodded, wondering if there was something magical about it. It seemed an ordinary stone, grey and solid. I wrinkled my brow and closed my eyes, attempting to sense magic the way my teacher and taught me. My fingers flicked through the familiar sign and the energy released from me in all directions. Dozens of pinging sensations crawled over my skin like a hundred skittering spiders, but I ignored it, used to the sensation of the dozens of magical implements and curiosities my master collected.

Yet the rock held nothing. It was as cold and lifeless as, well, a rock.

A glint of amusement appeared in my master's eye. "Very good, Samantha, but this is, in fact, just a rock. But it can also be more, with a bit of ingenuity."

He flicked the rock up in a swift motion and caught it. Again, he threw it in the air, and caught it. A third time, a fourth, and finally, on the fifth, he closed his hand around it. My master's bushy, white eyebrows turned down in concentration and his eyes shut tightly. A gentle, red glow appeared from between the gaps of his fingers.

All of a sudden, his eyes and hand both snapped open, and a bright light speared my eyes as the room filled with that same light. I blinked, raising a hand to shield my eyes and winced against the glow.

"Do not look too long into the glow, my student. Trust me when I say, it is the same stone, though... modified by my imagination."

I felt my jaw work, my teeth grinding as I tried to figure out how he'd done it. Obviously, the way he had tossed the rock up and down had something to do with it. I racked my brain, trying to find the solution in the lessons I had been taught previously. I squinted just to the side of the rock, the brilliant outline of the rock just visible in the rays of light.

"Energy..." I whispered to myself. "You made the rock change with the energy you made when throwing the rock up and down! Kinetic!"

"Well done, my student, well done indeed!" the old magister said, holding out the stone.

I held out my hand and he dropped it in them. I half expected the rock to burn, but I felt nothing but the coolness of the rock, as if it had never changed...

When I looked down at it, the light had vanished and it was nothing but a grey stone.

"Why did it stop?" I asked.

"Because I let go of it, my child. If we let something go, nature retains its natural course, returning the object modified to its original form." The magister tapped the side of his nose. "There are a variety of different ways you can modify objects in the world, and it is much easier to cast a spell with a object than pulling the energy from within. This is especially important for you, child, for you have little energy to spare. Which is why your imagination will be your greatest gift."

I frowned down at the rock. Ideas swirled through my mind, already fighting each other to get to the top and be used. It was like the possibilities were laid out in front of me, all from a single, inert rock. Imagination...

"Remember this lesson, Samantha, and keep the stone," my master said, laying a wrinkled hand on my small shoulder.

I looked up into his kind eyes. "But it's yours."

"It is a simple river stone I happened to like the shape of. There are dozens like it to pick from the River Shal," he said with a mischievous grin.

I felt my mouth twist in consternation. "There isn't another rock like this in the whole world. You told me every object is different from another."

He chuckled, the sound turning into a wet cough.

"So I did, Samantha, so I did."

[Deleted]

------ The Flame and the Manipular ------
Date: 2013-05-01
Words: 776
Minutes: 23

"It has been quite awhile since you last asked me to dinner, Fish," Challan said in greeting as he sat himself on the opposite end of the small table. His wide-brimmed hat tumbled off of his head into a waiting hand and he gently deposited it on the table beside him. "Should I be worried?"

Seriam smiled at the man's inquisitiveness. "I would say no, but I imagine that would only fuel your suspicions."

Challan's eyes twinkled merrily. "It would, at that."

"Still, I should think that I need no excuse to meet my friend for dinner," Seriam replied. "As you've said, it's been quite awhile."

A server appeared at their side, one towel hung atop his arm and a crisp vest over a white shirt serving as the uniform of choice in the establishment. "I am Wayne, sirs. May I take your orders?"

Seriam glanced up at the man and nodded, raising a finger. "Ah, a red wine, if you please, and a water."

Challan snorted as to the waiter nodded and turned toward him. "And you, sir?"

"I believe I'd like a brandy of some kind, boy."

The server hesitated. "Ah, what kind, sir?"

Challan grinned up at the man. "Surprise me, son."

The server looked between the two of them, as if unsure. He recovered quickly, however. "As you wish, sirs. I will return to take your next request."

"Make haste, boy!" Challan called out. "This sir would like the taste of brandy on his lips before they crack and dry!"

"You shouldn't tease the waiters, Chal'," Seriam said disapprovingly. "And you didn't have to take his towel, either."

Challan looked up innocently. "I traded him a pair of marbles for it. Surely that's enough!"

Seriam raised a brow. "You do know that your "trading" is actually "stealing", don't you?"

Challan held out his wrists. "Arrest me, officer."

"We're investigators, not policemen," Seriam chided.

"Then you won't mind if I return my wrists," Challan said, withdrawing his hands. "So, how are you, Fish?"

Seriam wasn't put off by the sudden change of topic. "Well as can be in this city. My burns don't hurt as much."

Challan nodded as if that were a common injury and held the towel he'd taken in front of him. "That's nice. Though you could have avoided it by not missing that shot."

"If I hadn't, we may not have been able to take Powderman down," Seriam replied dryly. "You did take him by surprise, after all."

Challan's hands blurred momentarily and a towel facsimile of a swan appeared in his hand. "My back still aches now, you know. Almost have to burn a bit to keep it at bay during the worst storms."

"You're getting old."

"I'm getting old?" The man's fingers blurred again and now the towel was a frog. "You're older than I am."

Seriam smiled. "My father always said it was the mileage, not the age."

Challan smirked back at him. "I suppose I do pull more of the weight in this little partnership."

"Which is why I offered to take you to dinner," Seriam replied smoothly.

The waiter pulled up to the table, an annoyed expression appearing on his face as he watched Challan transform his towel into a perfectly folded napkin like one would find on a noble's table. "Your drinks, sirs."

Seriam reached for the glasses and nodded his thanks. "We still haven't decided our next order, Wayne. We've been catching up."

The waiter set down Challan's drink. "Take your time, sirs. I will come when you are ready."

"How will you know we're ready?" Challan asked, taking a sip of his brandy. He gave an appreciative sigh.

The waiter's expression turned to one of puzzlement. "I... will check back periodically, sir."

"And if you aren't back when I, and my rather tall friend here, decide?" He accompanied his query with a wave of the towel.

"Then you need only call for me, sir," he said smoothly, a slight smile of victory appearing on his face.

"Well, that seems very inefficient. I had hoped you had some magical power that let you know when your customers were ready." Challan held the towel out to the man. "Ah, well. Here you are, Master Wayne."

The waiter hesitantly took the towel. "I... thank you, sir."

Challan waved the words away. "Yes, yes. But I do want my marbles back, if you please."

Seriam looked up at the waiter. "This isn't the first time he's lost his marbles, if you take my meaning."

The waiter smiled wanly. "I'll return shortly."

"Wonderful service," Challan said, grinning. "Thanks for bringing me."

"You're welcome," Seriam replied dryly.

[Deleted]

------ My Little Pony: Skycrasher ------
Date: 2013-05-02
Words: 800
Minutes: 23

Skycrasher soared through the sky on wings that matched the azure heavens above. Wind blew her mane behind her, the trailing white strands almost like a cloud. She dipped, snapping her wings closed against her body, feeling the rush of adrenaline as she dropped like a stone. The air rushed past her ears, whistling as if impressed b her speed.

Clouds lazing across the sky blurred as she passed them, her eyes open wide despite the speed of her descent. The forest covered land far below rose and fell in jagged mountains, forming steppes and cliffs which streamed with vegetation.

It was an old wood that covered the Griffon Kingdoms like a mossy shroud, as ancient as the world itself. Some Griffons said that magic dwelled with the Hippogryphs between the trees, a fragment of what they lost far in the past, so others storied.

To her, it was simply the ground that rushed up to catch her, clumps of trees and rivers flowing in between. A nearby snow-capped mountain rose as she fell, as if alive and affronted by her gift of flight. The trees reached up, their clawing branches almost greedy, as if they wanted her to remain on the ground

Skycrasher smiled at the thrill, the rush of falling to her potential doom. Green filled her vision and she let loose a wild whoop, snapping her wings open at the last second. The tendons burned as she glided just atop the trees, their vines and leaves a blur of varying shades. Some were red with the winter season, while others stayed forever green.

Magic, Skycrahser thought, is flight, if anything. I can't imagine how earth ponies live without feeling this kind of rush.

Her wings beat strong as a headwind cross her path, her body experienced sight the sudden shifts of the wind. It was a fickle entity, the wind, prone to slashing across a Pegasus' course with nary a concern for anything but itself, so unlike the winds of Equestria, which were coerced into directions.

The Griffon Kingdoms were a strange place.

Skycrasher let one hoof drop to her side to check the satchel she wore, making sure the flap hadn't come undone. She grimaced, remembering the last time she had lost the missives. Her boss had docked her pay for a week.

Luckily, it seemed the satchel had survived the dizzying descent. It remained firmly clasped together with a magically infused twine. Only she could open it, according to the unicorn who had casted the spell.

Unless, of course, I'm dead, she thought grimly.

Death was a very real possibility outside the peaceful lands of Equestria, though her home still held some dangers. But not like outside the kingdom she resided in. Dangerous magic, unpredictable weather, vicious monsters; all were the downsides of being a messenger in the royal post.

Her dark thoughts fell away like a cloud before the beat of her wings, drawing her back to the moment. Flying was truly a joy.

Something glowing shot out of the undergrowth.

Skycrasher saw it just before it hit her, her slim body already moving to avoid the projectile. Pain slashed through her right wing and she gasped, the sensation totally stunning her.

The world tilted oddly and then more pain filled her body as she slammed into the trunk of a tree. Gravity stepped in like a waiting lion, eager to take advantage of her catatonic state. Branches snapped under her body, bruising her ribs. She closed her eyes against the agony of her wing, her hooves frantically flailing around to try and stop her descent.

It ended abruptly as she hit the ground.

Twigs and leaves followed after her like vengeful sprites, snapping at her head, arms and legs, everywhere. She tried to breathe in and found herself unable to even do that.

Green filled her vision as she opened her eyes. Pain instantly ripped through her head and she immediately reached up with one scratched hoof to rub a large bump directly on her forehead. It competed with her wing for the most amount of pain she'd ever felt.

My wing!

Her eyes flicked toward her right side. What she saw nearly caused her to pass out. When she tried to move it, that's exactly what happened.

*****

Skycrasher breathed in suddenly, her heart pounding just like it had when she'd dived through the sky. Moonlight stretched like an ethereal bridge through the small window in her cabin. The gentle back and forth rocking and the twin engine thrumming of her airship comforted her, slowly stilling her wildly beating heart.

"I hate that memory," she grumbled, rolling to the other side of her cloud-hammock. A window to the outside showed her the sky, a dark velvet carpet of stars.

She missed flying.

[Deleted]

------ Orders ------
Date: 2013-05-03
Words: 823
Minutes: 22

Second Lieutenant Lara Cossey felt cold.

There was a numbness she had gotten used to during her time with the fleet; it was the feeling of helplessness when she watched the people she'd come to know step off the ship, their boots echoing like death knells on the grating. She couldn't protect them, in the cocoon of her ship. They were out from under her wing.

Some didnt come back. The numbness kept her from seizing up like she had the first time she'd experienced it. She had to be logical and impartial when faced with grief, just so she could get the people who made it back safe away.

This cold, though, was different from the numbness. It was like someone was jabbing a shard of ice into her chest and twisting it in her heart.

Sweat coated her as she stared at the planet that had taken the Captain and her crew. She knew if she touched her hands, they'd be clammy and shaking. She just couldn't process it.

Why did they have to die?

It was just supposed to be a reconnaissance mission, maybe even a search and rescue. No one was supposed to die.

Then why did they send a black ops team, you idiot? Lara thought viciously, heat rushing to her face.

She gripped the controls in front of her, feeling the stick calmly sit in her hands, waiting for her command like a dog would for its master. It soothed her, somewhat. The numbness retreated in the face of her anger, but it wasn't entirely gone.

Someone knew about this. Someone knew what we were going to run into and didnt tell us. They killed Captain Narvez, as surely as if they had piloted the ship into the planet's crust themselves.

Lara gritted her teeth, yanking her hand away from the stick to slam it repeatedly on the console beside her. Dull pain barely registered through her rage and she screeched in frustration. It wasn't fair! Why did they have to die?

Warn the fleet.

Lara sneered. The fleet already knew.

Doubt flooded her, then. But what if they didn't know how bad it was? The Captain had said what they had found destroyed planets, for God's sake!

Warn the fleet. Make them come here and nuke the planet.

The Captain's last words floated in front of her eyes, like a ghostly image she couldn't touch, but could feel the weight of it.

Nuke the planet. Make them come back.

Lara fell into her numbness, her emotions falling away as if she were rising above them on a single platform. She could feel them waiting for her, knowing she'd eventually come back to them.

But right now I have a job to do, Lara thought.

She plotted a course with deft flicks of her finger on the virtual console. The destination blinked, waiting for confirmation. Fleet Command.

I should send a message. It's faster.

She composed it, barely blinking as the words appeared on the screen. It took her less than a minute.

Team is KIA. Last orders of Captain Geoff Narvez to return with fleet and nuke planet. Containment impossible. Too dangerous.

She would have to give a full report later, but time was of the essence. The sooner she entered cryo sleep, the sooner she could punch the warp drive and rendezvous with the fleet.

Lara got up from her chair.

Weakness pulled at her legs. Only her hand clenching the top of her chair kept her up. Sorrow welled up in her chest and threatened to flood over.

I can't grieve yet. Not until this is done. Lara scowled and stood up.

She nearly buckled again when she reached the cryo room. The team's cryo tubes still lay open, their names and ranks stenciled on the sides.

A push of a button closed them, their hatches hissing as they shut. It was as much a funeral as she could give the team right now.

Only her cryo tube stood open now, inviting her to step into it and be gone from this awful place.

She stripped, stowing her pilot's uniform neatly in the locker with her name on it. The metal fell cool under her fingertips.

Naked, she climbed into the cryo tube, glancing to the side to pull up a virtual console. The coordinates for fleet command blinked a soft blue, ready to be input into the drive system.

She hesitated as she laid against the cushioned interior of the cryo tube. A thousand thoughts flitted through her mind like leaves on the wind.

Lara pushed the button, inputting the co-ordinates and intitiating the cryo sleep command. She could just feel the vibration of the ship's engines roaring to life, taking her out of the system.

The lid of the cryo tube came down, enclosing her like a sarcophagus. She closed her eyes as the process began.

Second Lieutenant Lara Cossey felt cold.

[James]

I'm not sure if you're looking for any feedback...

May 4, 2013 0:07:16 GMT -5 Croswynd said:

------ The Flame and the Manipular ------

... but I just have one comment to make about this. I really think you do a good job of making these two come to life. They're almost a little too witty, but it works. It doesn't feel too unrealistic. You certainly get a great friendship vibe from them and their dialogue is a breeze to read.

But there's one thing. And this was a concern in their major story too and now I'm not sure if I brought up in my review or not. But, at times, your writing gets a little too script-like when you do dialogue. It's something I used to do and Pete and Reffy pulled me up for. You just end up with: dialogue, dialogue, dialogue, boom, boom, boom, with very little prose in between it. It's just something to keep an eye on. And it's very easy to break it up, just occasionally throw in a paragraph of description of their surroundings or one of their thoughts in a little more detail and then boom, you can go right back into the dialogue that you're doing so very well.

[Deleted]

I agree. I noticed I hadn't done many descriptions as soon as I finished that piece. Your feedback is always welcome, Agro.

[Deleted]

------ Gears of War: Dead Echoes ------
Date: 2013-05-04
Words: 833
Minutes: 27

It was hard to believe most of the old squad were gone, even now.

Tyler Fais stared out across the dust from the plateau he stood on. A whirlwind of dust and dirt spun aimlessly out on the Bone Wastes, as if even it didn't know what to do in a world gone mad. Massive bones that might have belonged to some kind of sea animal rose from the sand, dwarfing even a Brumak.

The sun beat down on him, sending up a glare from the desert ground. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and worst of all, it was exceedingly dry. Every breath acted as if it was pulling the moisture from his body.

Maybe it is, he mused. Just like the Lambent are slowly pulling the life out of Sera.

Tyler had never expected to live this long, to see Jacinto fall or the Locust retreat before the Lambent. He hadn't expected to lose as many friends as he had. It had never occurred to him that there could be a hell worse than fighting just the Locust.

But what mystified him the most was being in charge of Echo Three.

It was a small thing compared to the giant problems he faced, an innocuous fact that shouldn't move him as much as it did. But it was still... strange

"What would you say now, old man?" Tyler muttered before taking a swig from his canteen. "Me, leading your squad. The rookie of the group."

"What was that?" the woman beside him asked.

He glanced over at the voice. It's owner was staring down at her gun as she ran an oil- and blood-smeared rag down its length. Her dark skin glistened underneath the sun, covered by the remnants of the Gear armor she'd worn for the past thirteen years. Scars crisscrossed her arms and her face was hard due to the loss she'd faced.

But she was still beautiful to him.

"Nothing, Nal'," Tyler replied, placing his canteen back at his side. "Just remembering the past."

"Happy memories, I hope?" Jason Nyvar said as he strode up, his heavy boots kicking up puffs of dirt. His brown hair was a little longer than regulation length, but regs were next to worthless now. Faded green cloth adorned his neck, keeping the skin from being burnt there by the merciless sun. He looked pensive, as ever.

Ty nodded after a moment of thought. "Yeah."

"Those are the good kind," Naleena Viscar said. A click came from her gun as she cocked back the bolt to load a round. "Keep them close."

Tyler smiled faintly and pulled his Lancer up from between his legs as he stood. The familiar heft of the assault rifle was comforting. "Weapons ready, Echo Three?"

"Ready as we'll ever be, Sergeant," Carter Fields said from behind, his voice subdued. Tyler didn't have to look at him to know the blonde haired man was staring at his Gnasher and engraving a prayer verse on whatever untarnished metal it still had. The man had been a Stranded once, but they were all in the are boat now, with the COG disbanded.

Ty nodded and raised his binoculars to the dust cloud coming in from the south. Locust, if they were lucky. Lambent if they weren't.

"Almost makes me wish it was just Locust again," Jason said, sounding so much like the elder Nyvar. "At least with them, you could hope for retreat."

"Better if we kill them all, first," Naleena said, standing next to Tyler. There was a fierce scowl on her face, bringing out the wrinkles in her weathered face.

"Better we not have to fight at all," Carter put in. "Let the Lambent deal with the Locust and vice versa."

"If only," Tyler replied idly, catching the first glimpse of the approaching force. Relief swept through him, replaced almost instantly by determination. "Looks like we're lucky, today. Locust."

Naleena hefted her sniper rifle and stared down the scope. "Bloodmounts, a couple of Drones and a Brumak. They seem ragged."

"Probably fought with another squad," Jason said, referring to the other teams scattered about the plateaus.

Tyler looked through the binoculars again and spotted something off about the Brumak. It looked as if pieces of its skin were blackened and cratered, especially around its trunk-like legs. A few of its scaly toes were missing, accounting for its lumbering gait.

"No, they ran into Lambent," Tyler replied grimly, noticing a dull yellow throbbing on the Brumak's neck. "The big one's infected."

"Then we should put it out of its misery," Carter said wearily, finally standing beside the rest of the squad. "Shall we?"

"Wish Jonesy could still fly his Raven," Jason muttered. "Air support would be great."

Tyler grunted and wondered if Marov or Joseph had ever felt the same stomach-churning anxiety in their guts before sending men into battle. Leading a squad wasn't easy.

"We take what we're given," Tyler Fais said, raising his Lancer and placing it on a rocky outcropping. "Fire on my command."

[Deleted]

------ The Flame and the Informant ------
Date: 2013-05-05
Words: 804
Minutes: 25

Challan waltzed down the stone corridor, twirling his cane and humming to himself. The sound reverberated in the small side-tunnel, forming a counter harmony to his efforts. It had taken quite a few years to learn how to hum with himself, but he was pleased with the results.

The sound of running water somewhere in the countless catacombs was an ever-present reminder of the reason the warren of tunnels and sewers were called the Drab. It was always humid in the tunnels, with pools of stagnant water often littering the walkways. Even with the troughs cut into the side of most of the tunnels failed to get rid of all the water.

So it was that Challan's boots periodically splashed through a puddle, causing the bottom of his slacks to soak up the dirty water.

I'm glad I'm not wearing my good slacks, Challan thought as he rummaged around in his pockets for his latest trade.

The short, blonde-haired man pulled out a pipe, the ebony wood emblazoned with some minor noble's emblem. It was a good pipe, he imagined, though since he didn't smoke, he couldn't really know.

But it would make a fine item to trade to the woman he was supposed to meet.

The tunnel began to curve ahead and the dark gloom that filled the Drab melted away before the glow of the Crossroads. The sound of people talking joined the running water as an annoying itch in the back of his mind. Luckily for him, however, he wouldn't have to wonder through the crowds today.

He turned the corner and appeared in a larger corridor, at least four men wide and two tall. It was one of the larger tunnels, but compared to the main corridors that served as the Crossroad's trade lanes and railways, the one he found himself in was little more than a side passage.

Challan glanced over toward the left, where he was supposed to meet his contact.

A woman in black leather leaned against the wall with her arms crossed in a threatening manner. Indeed, everything about her seemed threatening, from the look of the gun on her hip and more than a few knives belted to her torso, legs and arms, to the glare she was sending at the few people passing by.

Challan liked her immediately, but he pocketed his pipe. It might not be best to attempt to trade with her right off.

Plastering a smile across his face, Callan strode up to the woman.

Annoyingly, she was taller than he was, something he noticed the closer he got to her. Even without her boots, she'd be a few inches taller.

She looked down at him as he approached, her gaze taking him in as if sizing him up.

Not much to size up, I'm afraid, he thought. Out loud he said, "Good evening, madam."

"Evening. Something you want, shorty?" Her eyes were as hard as agates.

Challan stifled a grimace. "I'm here looking for Josi. I imagine she is you and you're just trying to feel me out before letting me know I'm right, but we don't have a lot of time for pleasantries, unfortunately, as much as I would love to match wits with a beauty as forboding as yourself."

"Seriam said you were funny," Josi replied, uncrossing her arms. "He didn't say you'd be shorter than a woman."

"It's something I was born into, sadly." Challan sighed theatrically and raised his free hand off of the sword belted at his waist. "Shall we?"

Josi shrugged. "As long as you keep your hand out of my pants."

Challan looked up at her, startled. "I'm sorry?"

The woman actually smirked at him! "Seriam also said you had a habit of stealing. Don't, or I'll lead you into the tunnels to die."

"Would not killing me straight be a swifter revenge?" Challan asked, somewhat off-put. He slid the pipe he'd taken out back into his pocket.

"I'm the type to stay silent and let you make your own mistakes," Josi replied. "Come on, the lower levels are this way."

She walked away, her long legs quickly leaving him behind.

Bemused, Challan walked after her, burning a bit to keep up. She looked annoyed when he fell into step beside her.

"So what else did Seriam mention about me?" Challan asked, curious enough to pass the time with conversation.

Josi didn't look down at him. "You don't need to know. What I hear stays between me and my client. That's how I survive."

"Hmm," Challan said, "that sounds ominous."

"Life in the Drab usually is," she replied.

"So it is..." Challan muttered to himself, determined to get to know the woman better.

After all, finding friends, or at least allies, in this city was harder than getting Seriam to crack a smile.

[James]

You know what would be cool? A 750 word segment from Josi's perspective. Sometimes I think your female characters can come across as either flat or very "trope-y". I think that was my complaint about her (she was the one in the main story, right?) last time. I'd like to see you really get into her head and understand her motivations and so on rather than just this tough as nails, wise cracking characters.

[Deleted]

That will be my next moment then.

[Deleted]

------ The Informant ------
Date: 2013-05-08
Words: 912
Minutes: 32

It starts with a kidnapping, as it so often does.

Quiet, fleet and clothed in colors to match the midnight sky, three figures enter the building. Their silhouettes are barely visible in the darkness; only their motion against the backdrop of an unmoving wall gives them away. Very few would be able to even notice the subtle movements, so practiced and quick were the men. They were at home among the alleys and gloom, sliding through them like shadows across the ground.

I see it all, of course, from my perch on a nearby building. My lengths of dark hair are tied in a tight bun behind my head and my leather jerkin is a matte black color. Only my eyes can possibly be seen glinting with the moonlight's rays, but I am comfortable in my camouflage.

For I am used to the night, as well.

The three men reappear as one with something held between them. My eyes pick up the frantic jerking of a struggling figure and I can just hear the sound of the prey's fright in the dead, night air. With well coordinated ease, the three kidnappers tow their prize into a nearby alley and disappear into the city's winding underbelly.

I stand up from my crouch and immediately walk away. The knowledge that I could have helped the poor soul barely registers in my conscience, the tiniest prick of guilt easily dismissed. It's something I've gotten used to in my job.

Information requires passive observation, rather than intervention. It's a creed I live by, and one that keeps me alive.

I would leave the details to anyone who cared to ask. The event tonight would no doubt result in another murder investigation, especially given the high status of the one taken away.

The man had been a minor noble who had encroached on the wrong gang's territory. He had been confident in the crown's ability to protect him from reprisal—it was a mistake that newcomers to the city made with alarming regularity. One would think they would listen to the stories they were told by their fellows—those who managed to survive the cut-throat environment long enough to crawl their way atop their precarious positions.

Again, though, it's only my problem if the person who wants the information bothers to contact me. I am a broker of sorts, one who has eyes and ears everywhere in the city. Not many know that, and it is a secret I keep close to my heart. Some know about my network, of course, but they wouldn't dare move on me, not with the blackmail I keep especially prepared in the event of my death.

It's a cold comfort, but one that helps me sleep without the fear of daggers at my throat in the dead of night. Or even that of a kidnapping like tonight's.

So I leave the rooftop with the information of the target and a likely idea on who had ultimately staged the capture. It isn't long before I'm back on the street, my soft heeled boots soundless on the cobblestone.

The storms above growl threateningly and the scent of moisture accompanies the miasma of mold and doused wood. The humidity is so great it feels as if I'm walking through sheets of fabric, the edges of the misty night clutching at the exposed skin of my face like a ghostly shroud.

The urge to be below ground and out from this miserable weather pulls at my mind like a stray string, but I have further business on the surface. More customers, each to keep at arm's length to maintain my autonomy. Constables, criminals, politicians... it makes no difference to me who receives the information, as long as I get paid with breath and gold.

So I stalk through the night, intent on delivering the message of the kidnapping to an interested party, one who I have a weakness for, despite my intentions. Seriam, an investigator and unlikely ally in a city where alliances are made and broken in the same night. Yet I hold him away, as best I can.

I see him ahead, his tall form distinguishable against a dark wall. He makes no effort to hide; why should he, when he has the powers he does? Yet he has never lorded it over me, as other gifted did. He simply seemed a man, kind and forgiving despite my ratting him out to whoever asked me. It jars me how he manages that.

"Evening, Josi," Seriam says, his voice smooth and as unreadable as his expression.

"It's the Tanner gang," I reply, growing annoyed with my thoughts. "They just finished taking away Fairfax."

Seriam nods, already moving away, when he pauses.

Dammit.

"Give me an hour?"

I frown, wanting so badly to give him the answer he wants. But I can't. It's how I stay alive, never making promises I can't keep. I'm too much of a coward to withhold information from any who ask me. Or am I just being sensible?

"Sorry."

"S'all right, Josi." Seriam tips his hat toward me. "Your payment will be in the usual place. Night."

He disappears without another word, leaving me standing in the gloom. A sense of regret fills my chest, but I brush it away with unfortunate ease. I can live with myself as long as I get to keep living.

So I fade back into the night, where the cowards and rats hide their shame.

[Deleted]

------ My Little Pony: Skycrasher ------
Date: 2013-05-09
Words: 774
Minutes: 27

Pain seared through her wing.

Skycrasher gasped awake, the scent of burnt flesh filling the air. Her wings moved involuntary.

"Aah-!" She cried, biting the sound off with a grim determination.

The forest around her seemd to close in, as if sensing her weakness. The branches that had seemed so green and cheery from above looked as if they wanted to claw at her and tear her into tiny pieces. The trunks groaned in the suddenly increasing wind. Thunder and blue lightning warred in the sky and rain began to fall.

The hiss of the rain was deafening in her ears, her coat already matting up. Each drop that fell on her right side sent a new spear of agony lancing into her side.

She sat up and winced at she saw what had become of her wing. The feathers had been seared off, leaving nothing but a tangled, black joint.

"No, no, no, no, no," she mumbled to herself and got to hooves, trying to escape reality. "No, no, no, no."

A squawk sounded from the jungle, deep and gutteral. Branches began to crack and leaves began to rustle in the rain-sheathed jungle.

The sounds filled Skycrasher with irrational fear. Her eyes widened and her mouth was as dry as Dromadry. She stood on the precipice of breaking down, her mind screaming at her to run and hide and sit and stay and-

Lightning flashed in the jungle, whisking by her ear like an arrow shot by some unearthly bow. She immediately flinched away, her hooves already beginning to carry her away from the monstrous thing in the jungle. She had seen its eyes glow, just before the lightning had struck.

Another squawking cry came from her left, answered by a further one to her right. Skycrasher sobbed, dodging away from the sounds, feeling the eyes of the predators searing into her back. Her wing bounced with each rolling gallop and her breath came in short gasps from both the adrenaline and the pain churning inside her.

She had to escape, get away from these things. The crashing increased behind her, causing her to help in fright. Overhead, the sky darkened even further and the branches swayed in the howling wind. Rain fell through the canopy, striking her in huge droplets. To her, they felt like pebbles slamming into her coat.

The urge to spread her wings and fly away caused her remaining wing to flap in panicked, rushed movements. It was almost enough to topple her, but somehow she stayed ahoof, the mud and grass squelching beneath each stride.

Suddenly a form burst out of the undergrowth in front of her. It was enormous. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the branch-like projects jutting from where she thought its head was. Glowing dots sparked with some insane magic just below it and a long beak clicked at her. Huge wings splayed out at its side, making it look as if it were growing before her eyes.

Skycrasher screamed and ran forward. Darkness overtook her as she closed her eyes. She didn't want to see what the thing would do to her. She didn't want to see its ghastly eyes or its huge claws slice toward her. A roar sounded just loud enough to overcome her scream.

Seconds past like years and only the slapping of fronds across her muzzle brought her back to the present. Her muscles ached like she'd never felt before, not even after a hard day's work as a royal messenger. There was a stitch in her side, almost competing with the burning pain in her wing.

She opened her eyes to find herself walking through the forest. Rain still fell, but it wasn't the torrent it had been before. Gone were the rustles and cracks of pursuit, the thunder and lightning.

Her body stopped responding and she tripped, falling into the mud. She had enough sense to throw her weight to the left so she wouldn't land on her wing. Coldness caressed her face and body, causing her to shiver uncontrollably. Skycrasher felt so tired. She just wanted to go to sleep. Darkness spread like mist in her vision as she closed her eyes.

"Keep moving. You'll die otherwise."

Her eyes snapped open at the voice and she stared upward, her body still shivering. Nopony was there. Who had spoken? The forest had grown dark and the sawing of cricket-song and croaking frogs overwhelmed her ears. She didn't know how much time had passed.

"Keep moving," her lips sluggishly mouthed the words. Conviction surged through her and she pushed herself up.

She had to move. She'd die otherwise.