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[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
Its been six days. I am cold, hungry, and want to go home.
Oh, and its raining. Did i mention that its raining? It's raining. A miserable light drizzle.
'Simon... Its raining' I say to my brother. 'And it'll be dark soon'
I hate this. Life used to be so simple. Work, T.V, Games repeat. I was comfy. I like being comfy, i had my hair straightener too. My hair goes frizzy in the rain.
So Now i smell like leather, i have blisters on my blisters, and the hair that doesn't stick to my face is a soft tangle of brown frizz.
My older brother, Simon marches on cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to the rain.
He's been grinning since we left, singing an on the fly song about going on a quest. I watch his back as he marches on, shield, sword and giant battleaxe clanking as they sway, the rain tinkling of them merrily. Its amazing how fast people adapted. Before the return of the fey, armour shops were few and far between.
Now, there are whole bazaars. You can even buy signs with a big yellow exclamation mark on them, for the modern quest giver on the go i suppose.
I can hear his song on the breeze.
*"May hav'ta go and kill some Dragons.*
Clank, clank.
*Then i may ha'fta go, do me some Swaggin"*
Oh, went with Swaggin' this time. lyrical mastery there. Its good to see him happy though.
Six months ago, my older brother died for a little bit. That's what the doctors told me. i found him, purple and dangling from a beam in the shed.
It was his job i think, I used to imagine him, six and a half feet tall and crammed into a cubicle, answering phones for ten hours a day. He started off with therapy, which immediately led to anti-depressants, which eventually led to my skinny frame supporting well over a hundred kilograms of man with every fibre of being I possessed, Sreaming for help.
He went to hospital, then he went away for a while. 'Just til' i figure my place in the world out, Jess' He would say. He had traded his cubicle for a slightly bigger one, so it would seem.
Then, while he was in there, magic returned. It washed over the civilised world slowly, like a blanket of humility and darkness. A great equaliser. The one percent became people. The sick died. The forests filled with mythical beasts and spirit guardians once more.
People went a bit stupid for a while, because humans are like that.
Then the world settled. Life began again. Then, one morning, Simon returned home. His eyes focused and ablaze with promise. He looked different. It was probably the armour and giant battleaxe.
'I need you to come with me'
'Why?'
'Well, Its dangerous to go alone? here, take this' He said, and handed the sword to me with a grin.
The suburbs were dangerous, and food was scarce. So i wrapped myself in armour, and followed my older brother to wherever he was headed.
Quickly i discovered that I am no warrior. I can barely stand when i hold my shield. I can barely lift my sword, and i'm so tired already.
Lost in my thoughts i bump into Simon. He's like a wall with a beard.
'Alrighty, lets rest here' he says, pointing to a small thicket of trees. He can see i am tired.
He's really good at this. within ten minutes the camp is set. A tarp suspended above keeps us dry, and a fire crackles merrily.
Its a pleasure to take this leather armour off. Its soaked, squashes my boobs, and it rubs me raw under the arms. From my backpack i pull out my bathrobe, its hooded, and midnight black. Before the Fey, i basically lived in it when i could.
I huddle it around me. At least ill be dry soon, but i really should have brought my hairbrush. I miss showers. and baths. and shampoo. Is it too much to ask to smell nice?
'Damn the fey, and damn the damned dragons... I miss... everything.' The words march through my mouth. 'I shouldn't be here, Simon'
Simon throws more wood on the fire. 'What would you have done hey? if i hadn't come back for you'
'I dunno, i would've...' I trail off. What would i have done?
'Died, or worse. Adelaide was headed to shit, and slavers would have got you. That's what would have happened. You can't defend yourself yet, and you would have died because this world, this new world isn't for you.' he pauses and looks up at the sky, and its exceptionally visible stars. 'I know what its like not fitting into a world. Not belonging. I only survived the last world because i had help'
We fall silent. This is something we have talked about, buried, and don't speak of.
'Ill try' I say weakly.
'Just remember, in the darkness you make your own light. Be strong' With that he lays on his sleeping bag, still fully armoured.
'K, Simon.'
'We'll do a bit of training tomorrow, your sword strokes are really coming along' He lies cheerfully.
I would use the term "Swings like a girl" but i have seen some of the Women warriors getting around - and they could punch a house brick into dust.
'Are we really going to kill goblins tomorrow?' i ask anxiously.
'Yup, don't worry, they're more of a pest than a threat, just keep your eyes and throat covered, yeah?, and its worth some gold to us, and we need the money.
That night, I sleep fitfully. Anxiously dreaming of goblins and darkness. I awake with a start. a knife is pressed to my throat.
In the light of a quiet fire, my vision is filled with a grimy man, wickedness reflects from his eyes. "Shhhhhh" he says. His breath stinks of booze and decay. 'Avin' a nightmare were we? Ooooh, we're gonna have some fun with you my lovely' He says. Its terrifying. I freeze. I can feel his tongue on my neck. Simon is still asleep. two figures creep up on him. knives drawn.
I struggle, and he chuckles softly. 'Hold still girlie, you'll like it' Booze, decay. Evil.
Then... I feel it stir. It feels like the beginnings of a laugh. It bubbles up from inside... a welling... All the rage. all the fear, all the helplessness. churns through me. Time slows.
Life could be so unfair. Two people, trying to find their way in the world, about to be killed for no damn reason.
No. Not today.
I raised my hand and am surprised to see it sheathed in lightning. There is a look of panic on the bandits face.
It's the most primal feeling of self righteous *Hatred* I can muster. I push my palm against his face and let it flow through me. The crack of the lightning is deafening. In the dim light I see Simon's eyes open. There is a brief rain of ash and skull fragments. I push the corpse off of me, pushing aside revulsion for later.
Simon roars and stands like an avatar of righteous vengeance. I have never seen him fight before. He's like a demon. He cleaves through one, leaving his his axe buried in his rib-cage. then draws his sword. Stalking his prey. who turns to flee.
I scowl and point a finger at the fleeing man "Stop" i say softly, feeling invisible threads tangle around him. He stops. Paralysed.
'Please sir, have mercy...' He pleads, struggling against invisible bindings.
Simon is angry. One meaty hand slams the paralysed man up against a tree by the throat.
'So... this mercy then... where was this mercy when you were going to knife me to death? or selling my Sister to slavery? make some money of an entire life of misery were you? that's the problem with you bastards, always using the good nature of people against them. No, people like you invented mercy to stop people like me killing you when you're finally caught.'
'What do you think, Jess?' Simon asks.
I say nothing. i bury my sword in the mans neck. I watch him die. I don't feel the least bit bad at all.
Simon shrugs. He is an uncomplicated man.
Silently we loot the men, taking their small arms and any coin they may have. Its actually pretty lucrative.
We take our camp with us, its easier than burying corpses. I still wear my bathrobe. I quickly figure out a minor shield spell that keeps the rain off, and i hold it with only a fragment of concentration. it's giddying how easy this magic stuff is. Oh, and have you ever seen rain running along a forcefield? Its beautiful. Simon uses it to fill out canteens up, he's practical like that.
'You okay?' He finally asks as we set up our new camp an hour or so later.
I nod, I feel the best i have since the returning of the fey. 'you know something? I don't think i want to kill goblins.'
'No? Well... if you don't want to kill things I suppose we could guard caravans, the moneys not too bad. pretty boring though'
'I want to kill bandits.' I say with finality. I can still feel the tongue on my neck. I shiver. the anger returns. 'And slavers.'
Simon pauses for thought stroking his beard. 'Bandit dens have lots more than the few we took out, you know.'
'Simon, in the old world i always felt so... powerless. Evil had won. They had all the cards, all the money. No responsibility for their actions... They had power. Here, We are equals... And i'm going to make light in the darkness, And It will be with fire and destruction i shall make it. These evil folk, I want their dreams haunted by the visions of the destruction that will find them'
Simon nods. He is an uncomplicated man, and I think he's in it for the axe swinging, mostly. 'Sounds good Jess'
Heading south, we walked past the abandoned cars as they sat and rusted. there seemed to be a lot more animals around lately, and forests too, trees grew alarmingly fast now. The sun peeked out, it was a beautiful day after all, and my new healing spell works wonders on blisters.
Spring in step, Free from cubicles, beginning a war against those who would enslave good people. A perfect way to spend a life, in one man's humble opinion.
Simon began to sing. His lyrics needed work, but it was good to see him happy.
*Gonna Go stomp, Some serious bandit*
*Don't ask me why, my mage-sister Planned it*
Its been eight days.
Two since i harnessed the power.
And to those who would do the good folk harm,
Your days are numbered.
|
I’m a tinkerer. I find things, and I fix them. Sometimes I even make things with spare parts lying around. It’s simple and I love it.
So I was really pissed when electricity was completely replaced by magic.
Nobody saw it coming, from NASA to the most radical conspiracy theorists. When dragons showed up, I’m sure everyone pinched themselves. When children began throwing things around rooms without touching them and seemingly random people were able to conjure a flame in their palm, we became paranoid. Isolationist. The world truly became every man for themselves, and the beasts of the Fae were overrunning the towns that were once lit by the lights of society.
I developed powers, too. And I couldn’t have wished for anything more useful. I could take a good look at an abject and just know how it was made. Doesn’t matter what, whether it’s natural or artificial. If I picked up an old piece of tech I could see it’s blueprints. If I picked up a rock I could see a volcanic eruption. And I knew how I’d be able to assemble them.
I happened across a military bunker during my evacuation. Fate, luck, I couldn’t care less by that point. Abandoned, but still stocked full. Since the power went out all security has been lifted. Everything from bombs to blades was stored here. And as I browsed it, I realised much of it didn’t need electricity.
So I stayed. And I found the secrets of the weapons. I made more. Soon I was ready to take back my town. I was ready for a quest, one that I’d unknowingly spent my whole life preparing for.
I immediately found a dragon circling above my old bank. It’s roar echoed through the streets. But it expected magic and beasts, the weapons of it’s own universe.
It did not expect a rocket propelled grenade.
I learned many things on my first quest. Most beasts are lightly protected and will be slain by a single burst from my trusty rifle. Some need a little more kick, which a sniper rifle can certainly provide. And for others you just have to blown them the fuck up. I freed my town from the grip of these creatures, and travelled back to my bunker with a smile on my face.
Technology hadn’t failed us yet.
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
I’d held on to my job longer than most; the goblins that were replacing cashiers around the word tended not to like the wide open areas of the American Midwest, so I didn’t have as much competition for keeping my job. Eventually though, even some goblins came out to my little town, as well as some of the other returned fae that felt more of an affinity of the area, and well, I just wasn’t as good with counting money as they were. I needed the calculator on my phone to calculate sales tax. They could multiple 8 digit numbers together in their head.
So, I started to look into going back to school. Universities were retooling quickly, in the face of the changes that had been wrought on our world by the Return. My alma mater in Rolla had become the Missouri Academy for the Arcane & Technological, or MAAT. Due to the heavy Egyptian themes that they had adopted (I think they were really reaching with their name change), they even had sphinxes and other creatures that had taken residence. It was starting to become a boom town for Egyptian revivalism, all because the avatar of Thoth had returned close by in the town of Cairo, Illinois. Rather an odd fate for a small Missouri town. I was setting my sights a little higher though, the Massachusetts Institute of Thaumaturgy. MIT had easily managed to keep its role as the pre-eminent research university in the nation, with brilliant students and researches who had quickly grown to appreciate the impact and importance of the Return and what it brought. It was almost an honor just to have a chance at getting in. Graduating from there would be the golden time let to a life of ease. Certainly a better one than my current, well, previous, life as a Walgreens cashier. Nuclear Engineering degrees weren't in high demand even before, with the presidents moratorium on new plants. And so I sat down to breakfast, MIT's response was waiting for me on the kitchen table.
I trembled slightly as I opened it….. and Yes! I was in. Three lines in “We are happy to accept you to join the Massachusetts Institute of Thaumaturgy for the study of the kinetics.” But there was more “… on the condition of you completing a quest studying the magic of the dragon Ainfijar, and returning with a full report on the mechanism behind his magical skills”. I had heard of this dragon. He had located himself near Milwaukee, and was known for his ability to send blasts of air that were somehow self contained until they reached the target. I guess the ability to contain those blasts was the question that MIT wanted to know… Not that I had any idea how I was to approach Ainfijar, let alone study him. He was famously known to be reclusive and rather…. hostile to outside forces that intruded on his solitude.
Further down the page, though, was another note. I would have other candidates coming with me on this quest. One John Rothschild, who was training in pyromancy, a Lydia Johnson, who specialized in smithing and magical defenses, and Skye Greenborough, who was a tracker, and expert in herbal medicine and native healing methods. And a note to meet in the Alpha Brewery in St. Louis in two days, on June 14th at noon, if I was “still interested in accepting the offer”. Fortunately, there wasn’t much I needed to pack.
|
"Hey Benny! Where you going man?"
I snapped out of the trance that had come over me to see George waving from up the side walk. I wanted to smile, but remembered that wasn't what dude's dude. I forced myself to look bored and cocked an eyebrow at him.
"Sup, Jorge?"
Jorge was a little older than me, a senior in our school. Not that he ever went to it. He was tall and lanky, and had hair that made all the girls swoon. He never seemed to notice, but I always caught on. I even tried to do my hair like his, but it just ended up a streaky mess. Being a short pale kid with a shag rug for hair didn't do me any favors standing next to him
He always had the mischievous grin and a carefree demeanor that always set me at ease. Made me feel "chill", as he called it. This grin told me he had a plan. One I was gonna regret later. His eyes were practically glowing with excitement.
He caught up to me and gave my head an affectionate tousle, which he new I hated.
"Oh no much, bud, just happy to see my favorite little fire slinga," He said with a wink.
I panicked for a second, "Jorge! Be quiet! What if someone hears you?"
"Then you'll roast em on the spot!" He laughed, making finger guns at invisible bystanders. His expression softened for a second when he caught side of mine. He grabbed my shoulders and bent down to look me in the eyes. "Benito, you gotta lighten up man. You know it us or them out there. And your keeping you mom safe for those Slush Puppies."
Ever since the appearance of the dragon a year ago, magic and stuff had started popping back into the world with a vengeance. Along with came all kinds of strange people, calling themselves "The Fae". They were magical beings, the likes of which you'd only ever see in society.
I'd heard that in some places they had taken over entirely, and in others they had been wiped ot by scared, prejudiced humans. Not L.A. though. Los Angeles had turned into a melting pot for all sorts. The current mayor was an Elf, despite allegations of him using charm magic to win the ballot. But for every good Fae that came about, a bad one turned up.
Like or new boss, Ashmouth. Ash was an Orc, one who claimed to be a general where he was from. And when he found the Hell Hounds in their sorry state, he took over. Now the Hounds were one of the biggest gangs in the streets. The people put up with em, the cops hated em. As part of their "protection" plan, you could pay the Hounds a monthly fee, or you could join the gang yourself. One person per family.
Which is why I have a flaming dog tattooed on my back, unbeknownst to my mother. My family could afford the fee, so I'd joined without telling her. She'd be furious to know I was rolling wih a gang, but she'd be devastated as the good Catholic she was to know I was learning fire magic.
Ashmouth had started teaching those that were capable. Those that could learn were called slingers, tossing out fire and smoke. They were covered by their blasters, the guys who couldn't use magic, but new the insides and outs of a gun. The blasters would cover the slingers while they prepared there spells, laying down lead until the slingers were ready.
Jorge was my blaster. And much to my regret, I was his slinger. We had had to fight of some police who had come in on a small deal we were overseeing. I ended slapping a cop in the face with a fire rune, and taking most of his head of. Now anytime I see anything resembling brains I wanna hurl. I'd never felt so much guilt, not even about lying to mom.
"Benny, you gotta snap out if, man," Jorge insisted with a little shake, jolting me from my grim reveries, " 'Cus in gonna need you to night, bro."
"Tonight? But it's a school night!" I protested, feeling a bit confused. Ashmouth usually wanted us kids to stay in class. He didn't want stupid soldiers.
Jorge rolled his eyes, "Benito, we got more important shit than school to worry about tonight. It's finally here. We are finally gonna take the rest of L.A.!" He practically shouted the last phrase at me, but probably because I looked like a fish trying to breathe golf balls.
"It's tonight?! The big fight? But... but... I'm nowhere near ready!" I stammered, terrified at the prospect. I'd only been learning the ways of the flame for 3 months now. Ash said I had promise, but lacked focus. When ever my mind would wander during practice, I'd usually get brought back wih a cuff to the ear.
"You'll be fine, Ben. Look at me," He demanded. I managed to tear my eyes from my shoes and bring them up to his. What I saw scared me a bit. I wasn't sure what it was, but it wasn't nice. "Benny, I gotta know you have my back. You know full well I got yours. I'll blast anyone that tries to touch you." He was practically whispering at this point, giving me little shakes for emphasis, "it's happening tonight. And we are gonna earn our spot in the pack. Can I count on you?"
When I didn't respond he gave me a small pat on the cheek, asking firmly, "Ben. Can. I. Count. On. You?"
I looked up at him, wanting to cry, but knowing I couldn't. I took a deep breath, tried to look bored again and wave him off, "Of course bro, I got you. Them slush pups won't know what hit em."
Jorge jumped up with a whoop, slapping me on the back.
"Take your stuff home, then meet me back at the warehouse. Ash wants to run drills before we go out." Without another word, he turned and ran down the street. I watched him go, waiting til he turned the corner before I backed up against the wall and choked back a sob. The Frost Wolves were our biggest and only rivals worth mentioning. They shacked up over in the meet packing industry. Everyone said it was because there boss was like an ice demon or something, but whatever he was, he knew strong magic.
The leader of the Frost wolves only took in people that could use his magic, so they had leas people than us. But his guys were better trained, and they were fucking psychopaths. "Cold-blooded Killers" as they liked to call themselves. They were all adults, and couldn't be in the gang until they had killed some one with there ice magic.
And I was supposed to fight them tonight. I shuddered, with a cold I'm not entirely sure was fake, even in with summer ending. I gathered my things, and picked up mom's groceries and made the rest of the walk home. When I got back, my mom was doing dishes and told me that Jorge had called and asked if I could sleep over. She told me i could as long as we made it to school on time. I thanked then went to my room.
I sat on my bed and stared at the wall for a solid half an hour before my phone buzzed. It was a group message simply stating, "ONE HOUR LEFT." I sighed, and grabbed my smoke stick, the tool I used to draw runes ("it's not a wand!" Ash had bellowed when asked.) And put my body armor on under my hoodie. Mom was sitting on the couch, watching one of her soaps, and I gave her a kiss before I left. She seemed concerned when she saw my face, but I just told her I had a test tomorrow that was gonna be hard, which was why I was helping Jorge study. She smiled and told me she loved me.
I cried the whole way there.
As I got closer, I could tell something was wrong. The air was 20 degrees to cold, and there was smoke in the air. I dropped low and slipped into an alley. I carefully slunk through, gripping my smoke stick so hard my knuckles turned white. I pressed against the wall and took a deep breath. I spun around the corner, stick held out, to find a frozen grave of my friends.
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
Its been six days. I am cold, hungry, and want to go home.
Oh, and its raining. Did i mention that its raining? It's raining. A miserable light drizzle.
'Simon... Its raining' I say to my brother. 'And it'll be dark soon'
I hate this. Life used to be so simple. Work, T.V, Games repeat. I was comfy. I like being comfy, i had my hair straightener too. My hair goes frizzy in the rain.
So Now i smell like leather, i have blisters on my blisters, and the hair that doesn't stick to my face is a soft tangle of brown frizz.
My older brother, Simon marches on cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to the rain.
He's been grinning since we left, singing an on the fly song about going on a quest. I watch his back as he marches on, shield, sword and giant battleaxe clanking as they sway, the rain tinkling of them merrily. Its amazing how fast people adapted. Before the return of the fey, armour shops were few and far between.
Now, there are whole bazaars. You can even buy signs with a big yellow exclamation mark on them, for the modern quest giver on the go i suppose.
I can hear his song on the breeze.
*"May hav'ta go and kill some Dragons.*
Clank, clank.
*Then i may ha'fta go, do me some Swaggin"*
Oh, went with Swaggin' this time. lyrical mastery there. Its good to see him happy though.
Six months ago, my older brother died for a little bit. That's what the doctors told me. i found him, purple and dangling from a beam in the shed.
It was his job i think, I used to imagine him, six and a half feet tall and crammed into a cubicle, answering phones for ten hours a day. He started off with therapy, which immediately led to anti-depressants, which eventually led to my skinny frame supporting well over a hundred kilograms of man with every fibre of being I possessed, Sreaming for help.
He went to hospital, then he went away for a while. 'Just til' i figure my place in the world out, Jess' He would say. He had traded his cubicle for a slightly bigger one, so it would seem.
Then, while he was in there, magic returned. It washed over the civilised world slowly, like a blanket of humility and darkness. A great equaliser. The one percent became people. The sick died. The forests filled with mythical beasts and spirit guardians once more.
People went a bit stupid for a while, because humans are like that.
Then the world settled. Life began again. Then, one morning, Simon returned home. His eyes focused and ablaze with promise. He looked different. It was probably the armour and giant battleaxe.
'I need you to come with me'
'Why?'
'Well, Its dangerous to go alone? here, take this' He said, and handed the sword to me with a grin.
The suburbs were dangerous, and food was scarce. So i wrapped myself in armour, and followed my older brother to wherever he was headed.
Quickly i discovered that I am no warrior. I can barely stand when i hold my shield. I can barely lift my sword, and i'm so tired already.
Lost in my thoughts i bump into Simon. He's like a wall with a beard.
'Alrighty, lets rest here' he says, pointing to a small thicket of trees. He can see i am tired.
He's really good at this. within ten minutes the camp is set. A tarp suspended above keeps us dry, and a fire crackles merrily.
Its a pleasure to take this leather armour off. Its soaked, squashes my boobs, and it rubs me raw under the arms. From my backpack i pull out my bathrobe, its hooded, and midnight black. Before the Fey, i basically lived in it when i could.
I huddle it around me. At least ill be dry soon, but i really should have brought my hairbrush. I miss showers. and baths. and shampoo. Is it too much to ask to smell nice?
'Damn the fey, and damn the damned dragons... I miss... everything.' The words march through my mouth. 'I shouldn't be here, Simon'
Simon throws more wood on the fire. 'What would you have done hey? if i hadn't come back for you'
'I dunno, i would've...' I trail off. What would i have done?
'Died, or worse. Adelaide was headed to shit, and slavers would have got you. That's what would have happened. You can't defend yourself yet, and you would have died because this world, this new world isn't for you.' he pauses and looks up at the sky, and its exceptionally visible stars. 'I know what its like not fitting into a world. Not belonging. I only survived the last world because i had help'
We fall silent. This is something we have talked about, buried, and don't speak of.
'Ill try' I say weakly.
'Just remember, in the darkness you make your own light. Be strong' With that he lays on his sleeping bag, still fully armoured.
'K, Simon.'
'We'll do a bit of training tomorrow, your sword strokes are really coming along' He lies cheerfully.
I would use the term "Swings like a girl" but i have seen some of the Women warriors getting around - and they could punch a house brick into dust.
'Are we really going to kill goblins tomorrow?' i ask anxiously.
'Yup, don't worry, they're more of a pest than a threat, just keep your eyes and throat covered, yeah?, and its worth some gold to us, and we need the money.
That night, I sleep fitfully. Anxiously dreaming of goblins and darkness. I awake with a start. a knife is pressed to my throat.
In the light of a quiet fire, my vision is filled with a grimy man, wickedness reflects from his eyes. "Shhhhhh" he says. His breath stinks of booze and decay. 'Avin' a nightmare were we? Ooooh, we're gonna have some fun with you my lovely' He says. Its terrifying. I freeze. I can feel his tongue on my neck. Simon is still asleep. two figures creep up on him. knives drawn.
I struggle, and he chuckles softly. 'Hold still girlie, you'll like it' Booze, decay. Evil.
Then... I feel it stir. It feels like the beginnings of a laugh. It bubbles up from inside... a welling... All the rage. all the fear, all the helplessness. churns through me. Time slows.
Life could be so unfair. Two people, trying to find their way in the world, about to be killed for no damn reason.
No. Not today.
I raised my hand and am surprised to see it sheathed in lightning. There is a look of panic on the bandits face.
It's the most primal feeling of self righteous *Hatred* I can muster. I push my palm against his face and let it flow through me. The crack of the lightning is deafening. In the dim light I see Simon's eyes open. There is a brief rain of ash and skull fragments. I push the corpse off of me, pushing aside revulsion for later.
Simon roars and stands like an avatar of righteous vengeance. I have never seen him fight before. He's like a demon. He cleaves through one, leaving his his axe buried in his rib-cage. then draws his sword. Stalking his prey. who turns to flee.
I scowl and point a finger at the fleeing man "Stop" i say softly, feeling invisible threads tangle around him. He stops. Paralysed.
'Please sir, have mercy...' He pleads, struggling against invisible bindings.
Simon is angry. One meaty hand slams the paralysed man up against a tree by the throat.
'So... this mercy then... where was this mercy when you were going to knife me to death? or selling my Sister to slavery? make some money of an entire life of misery were you? that's the problem with you bastards, always using the good nature of people against them. No, people like you invented mercy to stop people like me killing you when you're finally caught.'
'What do you think, Jess?' Simon asks.
I say nothing. i bury my sword in the mans neck. I watch him die. I don't feel the least bit bad at all.
Simon shrugs. He is an uncomplicated man.
Silently we loot the men, taking their small arms and any coin they may have. Its actually pretty lucrative.
We take our camp with us, its easier than burying corpses. I still wear my bathrobe. I quickly figure out a minor shield spell that keeps the rain off, and i hold it with only a fragment of concentration. it's giddying how easy this magic stuff is. Oh, and have you ever seen rain running along a forcefield? Its beautiful. Simon uses it to fill out canteens up, he's practical like that.
'You okay?' He finally asks as we set up our new camp an hour or so later.
I nod, I feel the best i have since the returning of the fey. 'you know something? I don't think i want to kill goblins.'
'No? Well... if you don't want to kill things I suppose we could guard caravans, the moneys not too bad. pretty boring though'
'I want to kill bandits.' I say with finality. I can still feel the tongue on my neck. I shiver. the anger returns. 'And slavers.'
Simon pauses for thought stroking his beard. 'Bandit dens have lots more than the few we took out, you know.'
'Simon, in the old world i always felt so... powerless. Evil had won. They had all the cards, all the money. No responsibility for their actions... They had power. Here, We are equals... And i'm going to make light in the darkness, And It will be with fire and destruction i shall make it. These evil folk, I want their dreams haunted by the visions of the destruction that will find them'
Simon nods. He is an uncomplicated man, and I think he's in it for the axe swinging, mostly. 'Sounds good Jess'
Heading south, we walked past the abandoned cars as they sat and rusted. there seemed to be a lot more animals around lately, and forests too, trees grew alarmingly fast now. The sun peeked out, it was a beautiful day after all, and my new healing spell works wonders on blisters.
Spring in step, Free from cubicles, beginning a war against those who would enslave good people. A perfect way to spend a life, in one man's humble opinion.
Simon began to sing. His lyrics needed work, but it was good to see him happy.
*Gonna Go stomp, Some serious bandit*
*Don't ask me why, my mage-sister Planned it*
Its been eight days.
Two since i harnessed the power.
And to those who would do the good folk harm,
Your days are numbered.
|
"Hey Benny! Where you going man?"
I snapped out of the trance that had come over me to see George waving from up the side walk. I wanted to smile, but remembered that wasn't what dude's dude. I forced myself to look bored and cocked an eyebrow at him.
"Sup, Jorge?"
Jorge was a little older than me, a senior in our school. Not that he ever went to it. He was tall and lanky, and had hair that made all the girls swoon. He never seemed to notice, but I always caught on. I even tried to do my hair like his, but it just ended up a streaky mess. Being a short pale kid with a shag rug for hair didn't do me any favors standing next to him
He always had the mischievous grin and a carefree demeanor that always set me at ease. Made me feel "chill", as he called it. This grin told me he had a plan. One I was gonna regret later. His eyes were practically glowing with excitement.
He caught up to me and gave my head an affectionate tousle, which he new I hated.
"Oh no much, bud, just happy to see my favorite little fire slinga," He said with a wink.
I panicked for a second, "Jorge! Be quiet! What if someone hears you?"
"Then you'll roast em on the spot!" He laughed, making finger guns at invisible bystanders. His expression softened for a second when he caught side of mine. He grabbed my shoulders and bent down to look me in the eyes. "Benito, you gotta lighten up man. You know it us or them out there. And your keeping you mom safe for those Slush Puppies."
Ever since the appearance of the dragon a year ago, magic and stuff had started popping back into the world with a vengeance. Along with came all kinds of strange people, calling themselves "The Fae". They were magical beings, the likes of which you'd only ever see in society.
I'd heard that in some places they had taken over entirely, and in others they had been wiped ot by scared, prejudiced humans. Not L.A. though. Los Angeles had turned into a melting pot for all sorts. The current mayor was an Elf, despite allegations of him using charm magic to win the ballot. But for every good Fae that came about, a bad one turned up.
Like or new boss, Ashmouth. Ash was an Orc, one who claimed to be a general where he was from. And when he found the Hell Hounds in their sorry state, he took over. Now the Hounds were one of the biggest gangs in the streets. The people put up with em, the cops hated em. As part of their "protection" plan, you could pay the Hounds a monthly fee, or you could join the gang yourself. One person per family.
Which is why I have a flaming dog tattooed on my back, unbeknownst to my mother. My family could afford the fee, so I'd joined without telling her. She'd be furious to know I was rolling wih a gang, but she'd be devastated as the good Catholic she was to know I was learning fire magic.
Ashmouth had started teaching those that were capable. Those that could learn were called slingers, tossing out fire and smoke. They were covered by their blasters, the guys who couldn't use magic, but new the insides and outs of a gun. The blasters would cover the slingers while they prepared there spells, laying down lead until the slingers were ready.
Jorge was my blaster. And much to my regret, I was his slinger. We had had to fight of some police who had come in on a small deal we were overseeing. I ended slapping a cop in the face with a fire rune, and taking most of his head of. Now anytime I see anything resembling brains I wanna hurl. I'd never felt so much guilt, not even about lying to mom.
"Benny, you gotta snap out if, man," Jorge insisted with a little shake, jolting me from my grim reveries, " 'Cus in gonna need you to night, bro."
"Tonight? But it's a school night!" I protested, feeling a bit confused. Ashmouth usually wanted us kids to stay in class. He didn't want stupid soldiers.
Jorge rolled his eyes, "Benito, we got more important shit than school to worry about tonight. It's finally here. We are finally gonna take the rest of L.A.!" He practically shouted the last phrase at me, but probably because I looked like a fish trying to breathe golf balls.
"It's tonight?! The big fight? But... but... I'm nowhere near ready!" I stammered, terrified at the prospect. I'd only been learning the ways of the flame for 3 months now. Ash said I had promise, but lacked focus. When ever my mind would wander during practice, I'd usually get brought back wih a cuff to the ear.
"You'll be fine, Ben. Look at me," He demanded. I managed to tear my eyes from my shoes and bring them up to his. What I saw scared me a bit. I wasn't sure what it was, but it wasn't nice. "Benny, I gotta know you have my back. You know full well I got yours. I'll blast anyone that tries to touch you." He was practically whispering at this point, giving me little shakes for emphasis, "it's happening tonight. And we are gonna earn our spot in the pack. Can I count on you?"
When I didn't respond he gave me a small pat on the cheek, asking firmly, "Ben. Can. I. Count. On. You?"
I looked up at him, wanting to cry, but knowing I couldn't. I took a deep breath, tried to look bored again and wave him off, "Of course bro, I got you. Them slush pups won't know what hit em."
Jorge jumped up with a whoop, slapping me on the back.
"Take your stuff home, then meet me back at the warehouse. Ash wants to run drills before we go out." Without another word, he turned and ran down the street. I watched him go, waiting til he turned the corner before I backed up against the wall and choked back a sob. The Frost Wolves were our biggest and only rivals worth mentioning. They shacked up over in the meet packing industry. Everyone said it was because there boss was like an ice demon or something, but whatever he was, he knew strong magic.
The leader of the Frost wolves only took in people that could use his magic, so they had leas people than us. But his guys were better trained, and they were fucking psychopaths. "Cold-blooded Killers" as they liked to call themselves. They were all adults, and couldn't be in the gang until they had killed some one with there ice magic.
And I was supposed to fight them tonight. I shuddered, with a cold I'm not entirely sure was fake, even in with summer ending. I gathered my things, and picked up mom's groceries and made the rest of the walk home. When I got back, my mom was doing dishes and told me that Jorge had called and asked if I could sleep over. She told me i could as long as we made it to school on time. I thanked then went to my room.
I sat on my bed and stared at the wall for a solid half an hour before my phone buzzed. It was a group message simply stating, "ONE HOUR LEFT." I sighed, and grabbed my smoke stick, the tool I used to draw runes ("it's not a wand!" Ash had bellowed when asked.) And put my body armor on under my hoodie. Mom was sitting on the couch, watching one of her soaps, and I gave her a kiss before I left. She seemed concerned when she saw my face, but I just told her I had a test tomorrow that was gonna be hard, which was why I was helping Jorge study. She smiled and told me she loved me.
I cried the whole way there.
As I got closer, I could tell something was wrong. The air was 20 degrees to cold, and there was smoke in the air. I dropped low and slipped into an alley. I carefully slunk through, gripping my smoke stick so hard my knuckles turned white. I pressed against the wall and took a deep breath. I spun around the corner, stick held out, to find a frozen grave of my friends.
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
Its been six days. I am cold, hungry, and want to go home.
Oh, and its raining. Did i mention that its raining? It's raining. A miserable light drizzle.
'Simon... Its raining' I say to my brother. 'And it'll be dark soon'
I hate this. Life used to be so simple. Work, T.V, Games repeat. I was comfy. I like being comfy, i had my hair straightener too. My hair goes frizzy in the rain.
So Now i smell like leather, i have blisters on my blisters, and the hair that doesn't stick to my face is a soft tangle of brown frizz.
My older brother, Simon marches on cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to the rain.
He's been grinning since we left, singing an on the fly song about going on a quest. I watch his back as he marches on, shield, sword and giant battleaxe clanking as they sway, the rain tinkling of them merrily. Its amazing how fast people adapted. Before the return of the fey, armour shops were few and far between.
Now, there are whole bazaars. You can even buy signs with a big yellow exclamation mark on them, for the modern quest giver on the go i suppose.
I can hear his song on the breeze.
*"May hav'ta go and kill some Dragons.*
Clank, clank.
*Then i may ha'fta go, do me some Swaggin"*
Oh, went with Swaggin' this time. lyrical mastery there. Its good to see him happy though.
Six months ago, my older brother died for a little bit. That's what the doctors told me. i found him, purple and dangling from a beam in the shed.
It was his job i think, I used to imagine him, six and a half feet tall and crammed into a cubicle, answering phones for ten hours a day. He started off with therapy, which immediately led to anti-depressants, which eventually led to my skinny frame supporting well over a hundred kilograms of man with every fibre of being I possessed, Sreaming for help.
He went to hospital, then he went away for a while. 'Just til' i figure my place in the world out, Jess' He would say. He had traded his cubicle for a slightly bigger one, so it would seem.
Then, while he was in there, magic returned. It washed over the civilised world slowly, like a blanket of humility and darkness. A great equaliser. The one percent became people. The sick died. The forests filled with mythical beasts and spirit guardians once more.
People went a bit stupid for a while, because humans are like that.
Then the world settled. Life began again. Then, one morning, Simon returned home. His eyes focused and ablaze with promise. He looked different. It was probably the armour and giant battleaxe.
'I need you to come with me'
'Why?'
'Well, Its dangerous to go alone? here, take this' He said, and handed the sword to me with a grin.
The suburbs were dangerous, and food was scarce. So i wrapped myself in armour, and followed my older brother to wherever he was headed.
Quickly i discovered that I am no warrior. I can barely stand when i hold my shield. I can barely lift my sword, and i'm so tired already.
Lost in my thoughts i bump into Simon. He's like a wall with a beard.
'Alrighty, lets rest here' he says, pointing to a small thicket of trees. He can see i am tired.
He's really good at this. within ten minutes the camp is set. A tarp suspended above keeps us dry, and a fire crackles merrily.
Its a pleasure to take this leather armour off. Its soaked, squashes my boobs, and it rubs me raw under the arms. From my backpack i pull out my bathrobe, its hooded, and midnight black. Before the Fey, i basically lived in it when i could.
I huddle it around me. At least ill be dry soon, but i really should have brought my hairbrush. I miss showers. and baths. and shampoo. Is it too much to ask to smell nice?
'Damn the fey, and damn the damned dragons... I miss... everything.' The words march through my mouth. 'I shouldn't be here, Simon'
Simon throws more wood on the fire. 'What would you have done hey? if i hadn't come back for you'
'I dunno, i would've...' I trail off. What would i have done?
'Died, or worse. Adelaide was headed to shit, and slavers would have got you. That's what would have happened. You can't defend yourself yet, and you would have died because this world, this new world isn't for you.' he pauses and looks up at the sky, and its exceptionally visible stars. 'I know what its like not fitting into a world. Not belonging. I only survived the last world because i had help'
We fall silent. This is something we have talked about, buried, and don't speak of.
'Ill try' I say weakly.
'Just remember, in the darkness you make your own light. Be strong' With that he lays on his sleeping bag, still fully armoured.
'K, Simon.'
'We'll do a bit of training tomorrow, your sword strokes are really coming along' He lies cheerfully.
I would use the term "Swings like a girl" but i have seen some of the Women warriors getting around - and they could punch a house brick into dust.
'Are we really going to kill goblins tomorrow?' i ask anxiously.
'Yup, don't worry, they're more of a pest than a threat, just keep your eyes and throat covered, yeah?, and its worth some gold to us, and we need the money.
That night, I sleep fitfully. Anxiously dreaming of goblins and darkness. I awake with a start. a knife is pressed to my throat.
In the light of a quiet fire, my vision is filled with a grimy man, wickedness reflects from his eyes. "Shhhhhh" he says. His breath stinks of booze and decay. 'Avin' a nightmare were we? Ooooh, we're gonna have some fun with you my lovely' He says. Its terrifying. I freeze. I can feel his tongue on my neck. Simon is still asleep. two figures creep up on him. knives drawn.
I struggle, and he chuckles softly. 'Hold still girlie, you'll like it' Booze, decay. Evil.
Then... I feel it stir. It feels like the beginnings of a laugh. It bubbles up from inside... a welling... All the rage. all the fear, all the helplessness. churns through me. Time slows.
Life could be so unfair. Two people, trying to find their way in the world, about to be killed for no damn reason.
No. Not today.
I raised my hand and am surprised to see it sheathed in lightning. There is a look of panic on the bandits face.
It's the most primal feeling of self righteous *Hatred* I can muster. I push my palm against his face and let it flow through me. The crack of the lightning is deafening. In the dim light I see Simon's eyes open. There is a brief rain of ash and skull fragments. I push the corpse off of me, pushing aside revulsion for later.
Simon roars and stands like an avatar of righteous vengeance. I have never seen him fight before. He's like a demon. He cleaves through one, leaving his his axe buried in his rib-cage. then draws his sword. Stalking his prey. who turns to flee.
I scowl and point a finger at the fleeing man "Stop" i say softly, feeling invisible threads tangle around him. He stops. Paralysed.
'Please sir, have mercy...' He pleads, struggling against invisible bindings.
Simon is angry. One meaty hand slams the paralysed man up against a tree by the throat.
'So... this mercy then... where was this mercy when you were going to knife me to death? or selling my Sister to slavery? make some money of an entire life of misery were you? that's the problem with you bastards, always using the good nature of people against them. No, people like you invented mercy to stop people like me killing you when you're finally caught.'
'What do you think, Jess?' Simon asks.
I say nothing. i bury my sword in the mans neck. I watch him die. I don't feel the least bit bad at all.
Simon shrugs. He is an uncomplicated man.
Silently we loot the men, taking their small arms and any coin they may have. Its actually pretty lucrative.
We take our camp with us, its easier than burying corpses. I still wear my bathrobe. I quickly figure out a minor shield spell that keeps the rain off, and i hold it with only a fragment of concentration. it's giddying how easy this magic stuff is. Oh, and have you ever seen rain running along a forcefield? Its beautiful. Simon uses it to fill out canteens up, he's practical like that.
'You okay?' He finally asks as we set up our new camp an hour or so later.
I nod, I feel the best i have since the returning of the fey. 'you know something? I don't think i want to kill goblins.'
'No? Well... if you don't want to kill things I suppose we could guard caravans, the moneys not too bad. pretty boring though'
'I want to kill bandits.' I say with finality. I can still feel the tongue on my neck. I shiver. the anger returns. 'And slavers.'
Simon pauses for thought stroking his beard. 'Bandit dens have lots more than the few we took out, you know.'
'Simon, in the old world i always felt so... powerless. Evil had won. They had all the cards, all the money. No responsibility for their actions... They had power. Here, We are equals... And i'm going to make light in the darkness, And It will be with fire and destruction i shall make it. These evil folk, I want their dreams haunted by the visions of the destruction that will find them'
Simon nods. He is an uncomplicated man, and I think he's in it for the axe swinging, mostly. 'Sounds good Jess'
Heading south, we walked past the abandoned cars as they sat and rusted. there seemed to be a lot more animals around lately, and forests too, trees grew alarmingly fast now. The sun peeked out, it was a beautiful day after all, and my new healing spell works wonders on blisters.
Spring in step, Free from cubicles, beginning a war against those who would enslave good people. A perfect way to spend a life, in one man's humble opinion.
Simon began to sing. His lyrics needed work, but it was good to see him happy.
*Gonna Go stomp, Some serious bandit*
*Don't ask me why, my mage-sister Planned it*
Its been eight days.
Two since i harnessed the power.
And to those who would do the good folk harm,
Your days are numbered.
|
With the icecaps melting, sea levels rising, and species dying out by the dozens every year it was hard to imagine we wouldn't come to a breaking point sooner.
It was around this time last year the incident at Fort Knox had occurred. At the time it was believed to be one of the largest scale terrorist attacks in US history, with not only the gold missing and the entire base wiped out, but the entire surrounding county left in a burning rubble. It wasn't until a few surviving recordings had been scavenged did we know for certain what happened.
Shortly after Homeland security, the coast guard, along with a variety of other government agencies combed the Hoosier Forest for their revenge. They found it after the beast the size of an 18 wheeler had been snuffed out, its body it such disrepair that scientists could hardly determine exactly what it was and where it came from. Luckily these behemoths were few and far between, and not incredibly bright.
Since then a specialized task groups have been assembled by almost every country worth it its salt. Over the subsequent months as other monster reared their heads it was clear these groups needed to become a constant. Thus the department now referred to as Magical Danger Mitigation Agency was founded. Luckily along with them came some other less deplorable inhuman species; more specifically fairies, elves, mermaids, nymphs, and a myriad of others all which could neatly fall into the category of fae.
Depending on the breed if that's what you want to call it fae could be incredibly strong, weak, tall, short, and so on. Elves, lycans, and humans typically made it into MDMA as they handled combat and living in close quarters the best. You would see the occasional mermaid but normally only stationed on Island or Coastal base as they are pretty useless on land even with an Automatic rifle.
My team however was based no where near a coast, we were about as far from a sunny shore as you could get. Inland Alaska.
Fresh recruits, it was me, three other humans, five lycans, and twelve goddamn elves. I should have known I would have been stationed with these stuck up pointy eared bastards as soon as I filled out a god damn survey, why did picking winter as my favorite season have to get me sent to Alaska hunting Trolls with 12 of these five foot nothing narcissistic assholes?
The humans and lycans on my team seemed decent enough. Lycans are the type of fae you want on your team, even if they may smell like wet dog even some of the more petite of their species would make a quarterback red in the face with envy. Always hulking and huge, with incredible strength and despite the terrible stereotypes I haven't met one yet that wasn't able to read.
Today was our first quest, there had been reports of moose ripped apart in a local wild life preserve, it was our job to find the troll that had done this and put it down.
It was assumed the entire team wouldn't be needed so six of us were sent, myself along with Daya a lycan ,and four elves. we entered into the woods the midday Alaska sun shown dimly behind over cast clouds making the sky glow bright milky white. The ground was packed with snowfall and we muddled through it from our quads to the area the forest rangers had been receiving the most complaints, a rocky and sloping part of the park dotted with trees both standing and laying on their sides we set up camp and variety of traps intended to catch the Troll.
Just as the sun finally dipped from its lazily low spot in the sky plunging us into darkness we were hit. This was no troll. There must have been forty of them, huldra. Slashing and tearing apart tents and destroying our equipment. Within seconds we jumped into action Daya and I grabbing our rifles and putting our backs to the closest tree, firing into the general direction of the too quick to see sprinting bodies. In that moment I was glad to have them, because while huldra are ungodly fast, nothing is faster then an elf. So much so I didn't even have to worry about friendly fire, apparently our bullets were moving like turtles compared to them. Within minutes the huldra bodies were stacked up in a pile, their furry legs soaked with blood.
I guess those pointy eared bastards are good for something.
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
You know some might have considered me a vigilante.
Or a criminal.
Or a hero
I consider myself a huntsman. I am the one who punishes the powerful for abusing said positions, I am the one pushes them back when they've overstepped their bounds, I am the one who tracks them when they run from their mistakes. However, I never killed. I always had someone I had to go back to.
Then the Dragons came.
God's great scaled agents of destruction fell from the heavens and lit the sky on fire. They exclaimed that they returned to change the world, to stop the great calamity we were running towards, and to light a new fire within our lives. And with them came the Fae, tiny woodland creatures who shined the bright light of magic across the globe. However we all forgot that the brightest lights cast the darkest shadows.
They came soon after. The writhing black creatures that slumped out of the abyss to devour all magic ,that we have dubbed Slimes, attacked the entire world creating bloodshed and chaos on an unprecedented scale. So many people lost their lives in the battle and in an attempt at escape. So many people. The Dragons did nothing, they merely sat on their laurels and allowed humans and Fae to be slaughtered saying that it was all a part of the divine plan. It has been a year since the Dragon's arrival, the population has been cut in half, technology doesn't work anymore, but somehow people are starting to move forward. Youngsters have been going on these things called Quests nowadays it sounds like something straight out of a game of D&D. I think I'll go on one of these Quests, but a quest that is familiar. I'll punish the powerful for abusing said positions, I'll push them back because they've overstepped their bounds, I'll tracks them when because they've run from their mistakes.
I'm going on a quest to kill all Dragons.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
First time posting on this sub, and this is probably trash so feedback is greatly appreciated.
|
With the icecaps melting, sea levels rising, and species dying out by the dozens every year it was hard to imagine we wouldn't come to a breaking point sooner.
It was around this time last year the incident at Fort Knox had occurred. At the time it was believed to be one of the largest scale terrorist attacks in US history, with not only the gold missing and the entire base wiped out, but the entire surrounding county left in a burning rubble. It wasn't until a few surviving recordings had been scavenged did we know for certain what happened.
Shortly after Homeland security, the coast guard, along with a variety of other government agencies combed the Hoosier Forest for their revenge. They found it after the beast the size of an 18 wheeler had been snuffed out, its body it such disrepair that scientists could hardly determine exactly what it was and where it came from. Luckily these behemoths were few and far between, and not incredibly bright.
Since then a specialized task groups have been assembled by almost every country worth it its salt. Over the subsequent months as other monster reared their heads it was clear these groups needed to become a constant. Thus the department now referred to as Magical Danger Mitigation Agency was founded. Luckily along with them came some other less deplorable inhuman species; more specifically fairies, elves, mermaids, nymphs, and a myriad of others all which could neatly fall into the category of fae.
Depending on the breed if that's what you want to call it fae could be incredibly strong, weak, tall, short, and so on. Elves, lycans, and humans typically made it into MDMA as they handled combat and living in close quarters the best. You would see the occasional mermaid but normally only stationed on Island or Coastal base as they are pretty useless on land even with an Automatic rifle.
My team however was based no where near a coast, we were about as far from a sunny shore as you could get. Inland Alaska.
Fresh recruits, it was me, three other humans, five lycans, and twelve goddamn elves. I should have known I would have been stationed with these stuck up pointy eared bastards as soon as I filled out a god damn survey, why did picking winter as my favorite season have to get me sent to Alaska hunting Trolls with 12 of these five foot nothing narcissistic assholes?
The humans and lycans on my team seemed decent enough. Lycans are the type of fae you want on your team, even if they may smell like wet dog even some of the more petite of their species would make a quarterback red in the face with envy. Always hulking and huge, with incredible strength and despite the terrible stereotypes I haven't met one yet that wasn't able to read.
Today was our first quest, there had been reports of moose ripped apart in a local wild life preserve, it was our job to find the troll that had done this and put it down.
It was assumed the entire team wouldn't be needed so six of us were sent, myself along with Daya a lycan ,and four elves. we entered into the woods the midday Alaska sun shown dimly behind over cast clouds making the sky glow bright milky white. The ground was packed with snowfall and we muddled through it from our quads to the area the forest rangers had been receiving the most complaints, a rocky and sloping part of the park dotted with trees both standing and laying on their sides we set up camp and variety of traps intended to catch the Troll.
Just as the sun finally dipped from its lazily low spot in the sky plunging us into darkness we were hit. This was no troll. There must have been forty of them, huldra. Slashing and tearing apart tents and destroying our equipment. Within seconds we jumped into action Daya and I grabbing our rifles and putting our backs to the closest tree, firing into the general direction of the too quick to see sprinting bodies. In that moment I was glad to have them, because while huldra are ungodly fast, nothing is faster then an elf. So much so I didn't even have to worry about friendly fire, apparently our bullets were moving like turtles compared to them. Within minutes the huldra bodies were stacked up in a pile, their furry legs soaked with blood.
I guess those pointy eared bastards are good for something.
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
Nobody believed the news when they saw it. Many thought it was a hoax and why shouldn’t they? A dragon rampaging though New York… it was like something out of the movies.
It is only now that we’re beginning to understand that all the legends, the lore, the fairy tales, if not true, were more real than we possibly could have imagined.
When the first Red dragon appeared, it… how can I explain this, it changed the rules we live by. Physics and logic, they became warped with each beat of its wings. Our technology ceased working overnight, as if the beast had absorbed it. Electricity is now more legendary than the dragons themselves. And, overnight, we lost our place at the top of the food chain. With our technology gone, we have never in our history been so susceptible to another species of animal.
New York was in gridlock when the first dragon struck, a year ago. It rose from the Hudson River, veiled by a terrible fog of steam it had created. Glowing from the embers beneath its skin, it torched the streets, with breath hot enough to melt the asphalt. Whole blocks succumbed to its blaze and the people it trapped were doomed. Some shot their guns but the bullets just ricocheted off it rock-like skin.
I was working in a call center that day. I hated the job; every aspect of it: the monotony of saying the same thing, over and over; having to be polite to rude people every day. In fact, I was thinking of handing in my notice that day. I had walked to work, as I normally did, and so was not affected by the gridlocked roads. It was impossible not to notice the chaos going on around you. And you can imagine the language I heard from the people I passed by on the sidewalk, who couldn’t get to work because the battery in every single cabby was broke.
The phones in the call centre weren’t working either. Cutting our losses, my colleagues and I went into the street and had lunch. It was while I was drinking a warm can of coke (all the refrigerators had lost power too) that we first felt the vibrations. The ground began to literally shake. Cars wobbled on their tyres and a couple of windows from the apartments up above us fractured. Quickly, we ran to find shelter. There was a lot of screaming. We all thought it was an earthquake. Then we saw the mushroom cloud of smoke rising into the sky.
“Not again. Those bastards.” I turned around and saw it was Sandra. She was a pale, middle aged woman I worked with and she was shaking with rage.
“No,” I told her. “This isn’t terrorism. Nothing human can make the ground shake like this.”
As if in agreement, the vibrations grew in strength. There was a pattern to it and it was getting more intense. Then we heard the roar.
Have you ever been so frightened that you choke? Well, that’s how frightened I was when the Red dragon appeared in front of us, as large as an elephant but as quick as a greyhound. Its six legs scrambled over the ground like an insect and its four eyes twitched, scanning everything around it.
I wanted to run but my legs had turned to stone. As it faced me, it screeched in rage. And then it did something I was not expecting.
The smouldering teeth in its mouth parted just enough for me to see the embers glowing inside.
An ancient voice, deep and gravelly, called out.
“Do not.. come closer… Bahumut.”
I didn’t understand. My legs were still frozen and my heart felt like it was exploding in my chest.
Then I felt it, like a switch inside of me had been turned on. The appearance of this monster had triggered something in me.
I was not longer standing on the floor. I was floating several feet above the ground.
Looking at my reflection in a shop window, I saw that I had transformed. It was inexplicable. I was something totally different… a white dragoon.
As I hovered towards it, it used all its six legs to pounce at me as flames dripped from its mouth.
Instinctively, I shot up into the air. I didn’t know how I was doing it but I was harnessing energy around me. In my hand, a spear of light appeared, glowing pearl. I came crashing down onto the beast and felt its skull concave under the tip of my spear.
It screeched, and hot ash rained down on me, burning my skin. Hissing, it withered and fell to the floor, turning into ash.
That was a year ago. Since then, I have discovered that I, and a few others, have the ability to fight these monsters. Since the destruction of military weapons, we’re all humanity have left.
I have been protecting as many people as I can, but too many have died, despite my best efforts. It is time I search for others, like myself. We have to find a way to kill all the Red dragons. Each month that they exist, it feels like the Earth tilts towards the irreconcilable.
There is a darker force awaiting us. I can sense it.
|
The letter, handwritten in strikingly red ink on brittle parchment, reads:
*Rejoice! The dragons have returned! And with them, the wonders of magic have once again graced our tragic world. Where once was disparity can now be abundance! Where once was the empty longing of faith alone can now hold assurance of our future!*
*And now we call to you – oh great Dragon One. With the rise of the Magical Renaissance, the world has been given a new insight of the people that inhabit this planet. I, Malthazar, Great Wizard of the Coast, have used my newly-mastered sensory abilities to gaze upon your Soul Essence. I am truly taken aback at the amount of pure energy I have found in you. Truly, you possess a potential even greater than my own.*
*Perhaps this sounds ridiculous, and I understand the shock you must feel. Yet I know of no other way to communicate my amazement of what I have found within you.*
*We need you, oh Dragon One.*
*The dragons have brought a new prosperity among our lands, but I believe we can all sense a Darkness lurking in the misty fog of the future. I hold no doubts that you may be the only one to prepare us for future demise.*
I try to read on, but tears have formed in my eyes. Outside, a dragon’s shadow flies past the house and over the sprawling hills. I can hear my children playing in the Missawood patches in my wife’s garden, their laughter echoing through the open window and into my study.
I wipe my tears and read the final words of the letter:
*I wish to teach you, Dragon One. I wish to bring that potential out of you. I wish to turn your Essence into True Power, for you and for our world. Do me – do us all! – this justice for the sake of all that lives and breathes in this New World.*
*In order for this to come to fruition, however, you must reply to this letter with a small contribution of $85 in a check made out to Malthazar Burkley.*
*Please send this to 15 of your closest friends and family members who may also contain True Potential!*
*Live on, Dragon One! I hope to hear from you soon.*
-M.B.
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
*"Well, it appears that's that. See you never, fuck face!"*
Angie, the scrunch-faced secretary of David's department of the Deerborne steel repository spoke with undisguised mirth from her car. She rolled up the window and made a feeble attempt at peeling out of the parking lot. It was on a little rise overlooking what was once a rather drab rectangle patterned with solar panels- now the building was patterned with orange and red flames cutting through the roof. At the far eastern edge, where the whole structure had sunken into a blazing, smoking pit, an inky shadow perched on an uneven pile of rubble. The roost of four female and one male American wyvern had once been contained with four others in the smoldering remnants of Detroit. Apparently these had struck out their own from the edge of the brooding ground. The male stretched its wings wide, and breathed a vast gout of flames skyward, eliciting screeches of approval from the smaller females circling above.
Angie was right. Six years as an actuary and fourteen a department manager, his legacy was now presided over by a horror awakened by the very work he had done. That was very much that. He drove off, still unsure if he was happy. What was he even going to do? What did he even *want* to do? He'd have to move for a start-his modest house was now squarely in the hunting range of the beasts. Beyond that, how had they gotten past the blockade of warplanes that loitered on the city's periphery? That thought scared him more. The radio still mournfully played an Oboe concerto by Strauss, and David elected to simply lose himself in the stormy texture. He'd plot a course in the few remaining hours he had in his home. Had the music not descended into raucous applause before he arrived on his street, he might not have even noticed the silver luxury sedan peeking through the trees at the top of his sloping drive.
David breathed slowly, calmly and deliberately. He parked on the street two houses up, putting a hedge between him and his own slim front porch. This was not a coincidence, and he held the spiny cold of adrenaline in the back of his throat. He reached into his coat, fingers sliding around the grip of his old service pistol. He thumbed the draw guard, and slid it just free enough to snap the safety catch. He crouched low and worked his way through his neighbors overgrown garden, soft footfalls carrying him on a meandering route. The towering hydrangeas and tangled undergrowth kept him hypothetically hidden from whoever waited for him. He knelt in foliage at the edge of his lawn and peered through broad leaves at the car. Two large men, buzz-cut and broad slowly patrolled the edges of the driveway walking arching routes meant to surveil the street through the trees. A third silhouette, much slimmer but no shorter, leaned on the hood of the vehicle. He was looking directly at where David stood. David took that as his cue, and stepped out of the bushes.
"Stop!"
The third man's high, sharp voice cut the air, and he cast a slim hand in the direction of the others. One of them gave a whipping two-fingered gesture, and David felt his gun tugged from its holster. If he held it any tighter it might have broken his finger as it snapped out in front of him, hanging queerly just out of reach. Then disassembled itself, and there was a soft rain as the components scattered about the lawn.
"I told you to *stop* you sack of shit! What the fuck? We wait for the guy for four hours and the first thing you do is *fuck with him*?"
The man's wild gesticulations sent the pair cowering backwards. His limbs were slim and his fingers spidery, giving his motions a conductor's deliberate vigor. They all wore black suits with a silvery pin winking on the lapel, and there was a slim, long face peaking out of a wild shock of tawny hair. Tall pointed ears poked from the messy pile, and his eyes had an iridescent vibrancy. David thought of running, but recognized the futility as he was rounded on.
"Terribly sorry my friend, let me get that for you."
He gave a soft Beckoning sweep of his fingers, and the gun parts snapped across the ground into his outstretched hand. David stared darkly at the Fae offering him his gun with an undeniably mischievous smile that seemed to take up more of his face than was natural.
"I'm not your friend."
David snatched the pistol, checked the breach and holstered it, eyes only flitting from the Fae for a second. It's smile cracked, revealing a yellowing mouth of sharp splintered fangs. An unnerving reminder this *thing* was only playing at being human.
"Of course, stranger waiting for you with some goons, doesn't look good does it! However, I'm only here to offer you an opportunity. An opportunity that doesn't come about every day!"
The Fae lifted an open hand, which filled with dark leatherbound folio. He cracked it open and paged deliberately through it, shimmering eyes sweeping back and forth across the pages. David became aware that despite having only taken one step out of the bushes, he now stood a few feet onto his driveway, utterly unaware of when the transition occurred. There was a sharp gasp, and a finger snapped down onto the page.
"Right here. March 26th, two years previous. The third Alr'oquin expansion passed through this area, a natural phenomenon set in motion by the death of keeper Fallwetter. The government's required blood test showed several awakenings, you included. The new keeper elected to leave the mature humans ialone, but..."
He interrupted his babbling to chitter, covering his mouth with his slim fingers. As a rule David ignored the politics and news of sprawling magical events, as they were both complex to comprehend and often incorporeal in nature. He didn't feel he had any grasp on what the Fae was talking about.
"But, seeing as you are now...*unemployed*... We would like to offer you a scholarship to the New Fox-Sauk school of sorcery and practical magics."
He snapped the folio shut, and offered David an appraising look. He plumbed what little he understood, trying to comprehend. He had heard of people discovering latent magical abilities, and children born with the power after the coming of new nature. But the idea that not only was it within him, but he had been kept unawares? Had he even felt any significant difference, but would he? He began to stammer, starting sentences but not really knowing where to take them or what to ask. The Fae continued his smug look of appraisal, like a missionary offering the gospel. He stopped suddenly, watching the other men out of the corner of his eye. He suspected "no" might be an option without any significance.
"I...can do magic..."
The Fae nodded, smug smile spreading.
"And you'll teach me..."
"For three years, with eighteen months of service following as your practical certification. You people love your certifications."
That was a twinge, recognition his deal might have more strings than he could comprehend as of now.
"Why offer this? Why now, and not before? What reason do you have to teach me?"
"What reason did humans have to build colleges and schools for centuries? Knowledge is usable by all."
David thought, long and hard. He wasn't young, and both military school and the college after his service had been taxing on him. But it *was* a new natural order, and being a part of it might be more essential the stranger it all got. He thought of the Devils breathing flames across his old life, immolating twenty years of progress.
"I'll get my bag."
An arm shot out and touched his shoulder as he turned up his driveway
"New things will be provided. This property will still be yours, but the proximity to the wyvern roost...I suppose you should grab a souvenir...just a little something. A token of sorts"
David looked back up at his house, thinking of one thing he'd like to keep. His ex-wife's funeral card? The key to the moldering Impala out back? It came to his racing mind suddenly and simply. Up the stairs, through the small kitchen and down the stair into the little office that looked out the back of the house onto the woods. In the third drawer down, still in its dusty leatherette box under three folders of bank documents. Inside, the Cyrillic note simply read "keep it simple. Congratulations David." The single-hand Luch watch hadn't been wound in a decade, but he slipped off his comparatively glitzy Rolex and buckled it loosely on his wrist. His parents had been the only ones eager for him to go back to school, and he thought they might appreciate his return. As he walked down the front steps, he thought he saw a great shadow wheeling overhead, and swiftly disappeared into the silver car to began what he supposed was a new life.
|
The letter, handwritten in strikingly red ink on brittle parchment, reads:
*Rejoice! The dragons have returned! And with them, the wonders of magic have once again graced our tragic world. Where once was disparity can now be abundance! Where once was the empty longing of faith alone can now hold assurance of our future!*
*And now we call to you – oh great Dragon One. With the rise of the Magical Renaissance, the world has been given a new insight of the people that inhabit this planet. I, Malthazar, Great Wizard of the Coast, have used my newly-mastered sensory abilities to gaze upon your Soul Essence. I am truly taken aback at the amount of pure energy I have found in you. Truly, you possess a potential even greater than my own.*
*Perhaps this sounds ridiculous, and I understand the shock you must feel. Yet I know of no other way to communicate my amazement of what I have found within you.*
*We need you, oh Dragon One.*
*The dragons have brought a new prosperity among our lands, but I believe we can all sense a Darkness lurking in the misty fog of the future. I hold no doubts that you may be the only one to prepare us for future demise.*
I try to read on, but tears have formed in my eyes. Outside, a dragon’s shadow flies past the house and over the sprawling hills. I can hear my children playing in the Missawood patches in my wife’s garden, their laughter echoing through the open window and into my study.
I wipe my tears and read the final words of the letter:
*I wish to teach you, Dragon One. I wish to bring that potential out of you. I wish to turn your Essence into True Power, for you and for our world. Do me – do us all! – this justice for the sake of all that lives and breathes in this New World.*
*In order for this to come to fruition, however, you must reply to this letter with a small contribution of $85 in a check made out to Malthazar Burkley.*
*Please send this to 15 of your closest friends and family members who may also contain True Potential!*
*Live on, Dragon One! I hope to hear from you soon.*
-M.B.
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
Nobody believed the news when they saw it. Many thought it was a hoax and why shouldn’t they? A dragon rampaging though New York… it was like something out of the movies.
It is only now that we’re beginning to understand that all the legends, the lore, the fairy tales, if not true, were more real than we possibly could have imagined.
When the first Red dragon appeared, it… how can I explain this, it changed the rules we live by. Physics and logic, they became warped with each beat of its wings. Our technology ceased working overnight, as if the beast had absorbed it. Electricity is now more legendary than the dragons themselves. And, overnight, we lost our place at the top of the food chain. With our technology gone, we have never in our history been so susceptible to another species of animal.
New York was in gridlock when the first dragon struck, a year ago. It rose from the Hudson River, veiled by a terrible fog of steam it had created. Glowing from the embers beneath its skin, it torched the streets, with breath hot enough to melt the asphalt. Whole blocks succumbed to its blaze and the people it trapped were doomed. Some shot their guns but the bullets just ricocheted off it rock-like skin.
I was working in a call center that day. I hated the job; every aspect of it: the monotony of saying the same thing, over and over; having to be polite to rude people every day. In fact, I was thinking of handing in my notice that day. I had walked to work, as I normally did, and so was not affected by the gridlocked roads. It was impossible not to notice the chaos going on around you. And you can imagine the language I heard from the people I passed by on the sidewalk, who couldn’t get to work because the battery in every single cabby was broke.
The phones in the call centre weren’t working either. Cutting our losses, my colleagues and I went into the street and had lunch. It was while I was drinking a warm can of coke (all the refrigerators had lost power too) that we first felt the vibrations. The ground began to literally shake. Cars wobbled on their tyres and a couple of windows from the apartments up above us fractured. Quickly, we ran to find shelter. There was a lot of screaming. We all thought it was an earthquake. Then we saw the mushroom cloud of smoke rising into the sky.
“Not again. Those bastards.” I turned around and saw it was Sandra. She was a pale, middle aged woman I worked with and she was shaking with rage.
“No,” I told her. “This isn’t terrorism. Nothing human can make the ground shake like this.”
As if in agreement, the vibrations grew in strength. There was a pattern to it and it was getting more intense. Then we heard the roar.
Have you ever been so frightened that you choke? Well, that’s how frightened I was when the Red dragon appeared in front of us, as large as an elephant but as quick as a greyhound. Its six legs scrambled over the ground like an insect and its four eyes twitched, scanning everything around it.
I wanted to run but my legs had turned to stone. As it faced me, it screeched in rage. And then it did something I was not expecting.
The smouldering teeth in its mouth parted just enough for me to see the embers glowing inside.
An ancient voice, deep and gravelly, called out.
“Do not.. come closer… Bahumut.”
I didn’t understand. My legs were still frozen and my heart felt like it was exploding in my chest.
Then I felt it, like a switch inside of me had been turned on. The appearance of this monster had triggered something in me.
I was not longer standing on the floor. I was floating several feet above the ground.
Looking at my reflection in a shop window, I saw that I had transformed. It was inexplicable. I was something totally different… a white dragoon.
As I hovered towards it, it used all its six legs to pounce at me as flames dripped from its mouth.
Instinctively, I shot up into the air. I didn’t know how I was doing it but I was harnessing energy around me. In my hand, a spear of light appeared, glowing pearl. I came crashing down onto the beast and felt its skull concave under the tip of my spear.
It screeched, and hot ash rained down on me, burning my skin. Hissing, it withered and fell to the floor, turning into ash.
That was a year ago. Since then, I have discovered that I, and a few others, have the ability to fight these monsters. Since the destruction of military weapons, we’re all humanity have left.
I have been protecting as many people as I can, but too many have died, despite my best efforts. It is time I search for others, like myself. We have to find a way to kill all the Red dragons. Each month that they exist, it feels like the Earth tilts towards the irreconcilable.
There is a darker force awaiting us. I can sense it.
|
The seconds seemed to tick away like hours when the moment finally approached. We'd all been warned about it, told what would come of it, but none of us could believe it--that the age of dragons was returning. The ancients had foretold it, but we had taken it as pure myth, the imaginings of societies long gone and far more primitive than us.
Yet, here I was, a year later, sailing out on a ship to the deep arctic, preparing to face my first dragon. The return of the dragons had brought chaos to the world, and few nations remained, but what was left of the U.N. chose to have one last-ditched attempt to stop them. I was that attempt. Something within me had shown to them that I had the power to take on these beasts, that neither man nor machine had thus far felled.
They'd hastily equipped me with whatever heat conductive material they could find, taught me whatever old spells the old tomes had spoken of, and trained me in a bit of combat, but I still had never felt less prepared in my life. Fear coursed through my veins as we approached the site, the last reported sighting area of one of the fiercest dragons of them all--Mirmulnir.
Suddenly, flames poured from the sky. Screaming and yelling covered my poor vessel, the soldiers aboard becoming cannon fodder for the mighty beast. I dived off the edge and swam, as hard as I could, for I had no hope to stop the beast while in the water. Dragging myself onto an ice floe, I screamed to him "Challenge me you fool, one as might as yourself!"
He slowly turned and chuckled. "You think you are as might as me," he said, "now you shall see what might truly is!" With a great beat of his colossal wings, Nirmulnir flew towards me, spitting fire at my feet. I dodged and shot back flames at him, summoning every skill I had learned in training.
Yet, as the fight dragged on, I knew there was no chance I would have to beat, not so long as he was airborne. Then the fool landed, as if out of his own arrogance, and I took my chance.
As I ran, a voice boomed from the sky: "BUT THERE IS ONE THEY FEAR."
"What the--" I thought. No matter though, I had a job to finish. I struck at Nirmulnir, and felt his bones weaken against my blade. His jaws snapped back, and his fiery breath coated me, but it was to no avail, for my shield protected me.
Invigorated by his failure, I leapt onto his skull, and struck repeatedly.
The voice boomed out again: "BUT THERE IS ONE THEY FEAR..."
I struck again, and finally, he fell. As he fell, I felt a new energy enter me, as though I had absorbed something into my very soul.
"IN THEIR TOUNGE HE IS DOVAKHIIN...DRAGONBORN"
I felt a new knowledge in my mind, and uttered those famed words: "Fus Roh Dah!"
It has begun.
Edit: I'm a total noob and this is my first story, but what's a dragon story without fus roh dah?
A word*
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
*"Well, it appears that's that. See you never, fuck face!"*
Angie, the scrunch-faced secretary of David's department of the Deerborne steel repository spoke with undisguised mirth from her car. She rolled up the window and made a feeble attempt at peeling out of the parking lot. It was on a little rise overlooking what was once a rather drab rectangle patterned with solar panels- now the building was patterned with orange and red flames cutting through the roof. At the far eastern edge, where the whole structure had sunken into a blazing, smoking pit, an inky shadow perched on an uneven pile of rubble. The roost of four female and one male American wyvern had once been contained with four others in the smoldering remnants of Detroit. Apparently these had struck out their own from the edge of the brooding ground. The male stretched its wings wide, and breathed a vast gout of flames skyward, eliciting screeches of approval from the smaller females circling above.
Angie was right. Six years as an actuary and fourteen a department manager, his legacy was now presided over by a horror awakened by the very work he had done. That was very much that. He drove off, still unsure if he was happy. What was he even going to do? What did he even *want* to do? He'd have to move for a start-his modest house was now squarely in the hunting range of the beasts. Beyond that, how had they gotten past the blockade of warplanes that loitered on the city's periphery? That thought scared him more. The radio still mournfully played an Oboe concerto by Strauss, and David elected to simply lose himself in the stormy texture. He'd plot a course in the few remaining hours he had in his home. Had the music not descended into raucous applause before he arrived on his street, he might not have even noticed the silver luxury sedan peeking through the trees at the top of his sloping drive.
David breathed slowly, calmly and deliberately. He parked on the street two houses up, putting a hedge between him and his own slim front porch. This was not a coincidence, and he held the spiny cold of adrenaline in the back of his throat. He reached into his coat, fingers sliding around the grip of his old service pistol. He thumbed the draw guard, and slid it just free enough to snap the safety catch. He crouched low and worked his way through his neighbors overgrown garden, soft footfalls carrying him on a meandering route. The towering hydrangeas and tangled undergrowth kept him hypothetically hidden from whoever waited for him. He knelt in foliage at the edge of his lawn and peered through broad leaves at the car. Two large men, buzz-cut and broad slowly patrolled the edges of the driveway walking arching routes meant to surveil the street through the trees. A third silhouette, much slimmer but no shorter, leaned on the hood of the vehicle. He was looking directly at where David stood. David took that as his cue, and stepped out of the bushes.
"Stop!"
The third man's high, sharp voice cut the air, and he cast a slim hand in the direction of the others. One of them gave a whipping two-fingered gesture, and David felt his gun tugged from its holster. If he held it any tighter it might have broken his finger as it snapped out in front of him, hanging queerly just out of reach. Then disassembled itself, and there was a soft rain as the components scattered about the lawn.
"I told you to *stop* you sack of shit! What the fuck? We wait for the guy for four hours and the first thing you do is *fuck with him*?"
The man's wild gesticulations sent the pair cowering backwards. His limbs were slim and his fingers spidery, giving his motions a conductor's deliberate vigor. They all wore black suits with a silvery pin winking on the lapel, and there was a slim, long face peaking out of a wild shock of tawny hair. Tall pointed ears poked from the messy pile, and his eyes had an iridescent vibrancy. David thought of running, but recognized the futility as he was rounded on.
"Terribly sorry my friend, let me get that for you."
He gave a soft Beckoning sweep of his fingers, and the gun parts snapped across the ground into his outstretched hand. David stared darkly at the Fae offering him his gun with an undeniably mischievous smile that seemed to take up more of his face than was natural.
"I'm not your friend."
David snatched the pistol, checked the breach and holstered it, eyes only flitting from the Fae for a second. It's smile cracked, revealing a yellowing mouth of sharp splintered fangs. An unnerving reminder this *thing* was only playing at being human.
"Of course, stranger waiting for you with some goons, doesn't look good does it! However, I'm only here to offer you an opportunity. An opportunity that doesn't come about every day!"
The Fae lifted an open hand, which filled with dark leatherbound folio. He cracked it open and paged deliberately through it, shimmering eyes sweeping back and forth across the pages. David became aware that despite having only taken one step out of the bushes, he now stood a few feet onto his driveway, utterly unaware of when the transition occurred. There was a sharp gasp, and a finger snapped down onto the page.
"Right here. March 26th, two years previous. The third Alr'oquin expansion passed through this area, a natural phenomenon set in motion by the death of keeper Fallwetter. The government's required blood test showed several awakenings, you included. The new keeper elected to leave the mature humans ialone, but..."
He interrupted his babbling to chitter, covering his mouth with his slim fingers. As a rule David ignored the politics and news of sprawling magical events, as they were both complex to comprehend and often incorporeal in nature. He didn't feel he had any grasp on what the Fae was talking about.
"But, seeing as you are now...*unemployed*... We would like to offer you a scholarship to the New Fox-Sauk school of sorcery and practical magics."
He snapped the folio shut, and offered David an appraising look. He plumbed what little he understood, trying to comprehend. He had heard of people discovering latent magical abilities, and children born with the power after the coming of new nature. But the idea that not only was it within him, but he had been kept unawares? Had he even felt any significant difference, but would he? He began to stammer, starting sentences but not really knowing where to take them or what to ask. The Fae continued his smug look of appraisal, like a missionary offering the gospel. He stopped suddenly, watching the other men out of the corner of his eye. He suspected "no" might be an option without any significance.
"I...can do magic..."
The Fae nodded, smug smile spreading.
"And you'll teach me..."
"For three years, with eighteen months of service following as your practical certification. You people love your certifications."
That was a twinge, recognition his deal might have more strings than he could comprehend as of now.
"Why offer this? Why now, and not before? What reason do you have to teach me?"
"What reason did humans have to build colleges and schools for centuries? Knowledge is usable by all."
David thought, long and hard. He wasn't young, and both military school and the college after his service had been taxing on him. But it *was* a new natural order, and being a part of it might be more essential the stranger it all got. He thought of the Devils breathing flames across his old life, immolating twenty years of progress.
"I'll get my bag."
An arm shot out and touched his shoulder as he turned up his driveway
"New things will be provided. This property will still be yours, but the proximity to the wyvern roost...I suppose you should grab a souvenir...just a little something. A token of sorts"
David looked back up at his house, thinking of one thing he'd like to keep. His ex-wife's funeral card? The key to the moldering Impala out back? It came to his racing mind suddenly and simply. Up the stairs, through the small kitchen and down the stair into the little office that looked out the back of the house onto the woods. In the third drawer down, still in its dusty leatherette box under three folders of bank documents. Inside, the Cyrillic note simply read "keep it simple. Congratulations David." The single-hand Luch watch hadn't been wound in a decade, but he slipped off his comparatively glitzy Rolex and buckled it loosely on his wrist. His parents had been the only ones eager for him to go back to school, and he thought they might appreciate his return. As he walked down the front steps, he thought he saw a great shadow wheeling overhead, and swiftly disappeared into the silver car to began what he supposed was a new life.
|
The seconds seemed to tick away like hours when the moment finally approached. We'd all been warned about it, told what would come of it, but none of us could believe it--that the age of dragons was returning. The ancients had foretold it, but we had taken it as pure myth, the imaginings of societies long gone and far more primitive than us.
Yet, here I was, a year later, sailing out on a ship to the deep arctic, preparing to face my first dragon. The return of the dragons had brought chaos to the world, and few nations remained, but what was left of the U.N. chose to have one last-ditched attempt to stop them. I was that attempt. Something within me had shown to them that I had the power to take on these beasts, that neither man nor machine had thus far felled.
They'd hastily equipped me with whatever heat conductive material they could find, taught me whatever old spells the old tomes had spoken of, and trained me in a bit of combat, but I still had never felt less prepared in my life. Fear coursed through my veins as we approached the site, the last reported sighting area of one of the fiercest dragons of them all--Mirmulnir.
Suddenly, flames poured from the sky. Screaming and yelling covered my poor vessel, the soldiers aboard becoming cannon fodder for the mighty beast. I dived off the edge and swam, as hard as I could, for I had no hope to stop the beast while in the water. Dragging myself onto an ice floe, I screamed to him "Challenge me you fool, one as might as yourself!"
He slowly turned and chuckled. "You think you are as might as me," he said, "now you shall see what might truly is!" With a great beat of his colossal wings, Nirmulnir flew towards me, spitting fire at my feet. I dodged and shot back flames at him, summoning every skill I had learned in training.
Yet, as the fight dragged on, I knew there was no chance I would have to beat, not so long as he was airborne. Then the fool landed, as if out of his own arrogance, and I took my chance.
As I ran, a voice boomed from the sky: "BUT THERE IS ONE THEY FEAR."
"What the--" I thought. No matter though, I had a job to finish. I struck at Nirmulnir, and felt his bones weaken against my blade. His jaws snapped back, and his fiery breath coated me, but it was to no avail, for my shield protected me.
Invigorated by his failure, I leapt onto his skull, and struck repeatedly.
The voice boomed out again: "BUT THERE IS ONE THEY FEAR..."
I struck again, and finally, he fell. As he fell, I felt a new energy enter me, as though I had absorbed something into my very soul.
"IN THEIR TOUNGE HE IS DOVAKHIIN...DRAGONBORN"
I felt a new knowledge in my mind, and uttered those famed words: "Fus Roh Dah!"
It has begun.
Edit: I'm a total noob and this is my first story, but what's a dragon story without fus roh dah?
A word*
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[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
*"Well, it appears that's that. See you never, fuck face!"*
Angie, the scrunch-faced secretary of David's department of the Deerborne steel repository spoke with undisguised mirth from her car. She rolled up the window and made a feeble attempt at peeling out of the parking lot. It was on a little rise overlooking what was once a rather drab rectangle patterned with solar panels- now the building was patterned with orange and red flames cutting through the roof. At the far eastern edge, where the whole structure had sunken into a blazing, smoking pit, an inky shadow perched on an uneven pile of rubble. The roost of four female and one male American wyvern had once been contained with four others in the smoldering remnants of Detroit. Apparently these had struck out their own from the edge of the brooding ground. The male stretched its wings wide, and breathed a vast gout of flames skyward, eliciting screeches of approval from the smaller females circling above.
Angie was right. Six years as an actuary and fourteen a department manager, his legacy was now presided over by a horror awakened by the very work he had done. That was very much that. He drove off, still unsure if he was happy. What was he even going to do? What did he even *want* to do? He'd have to move for a start-his modest house was now squarely in the hunting range of the beasts. Beyond that, how had they gotten past the blockade of warplanes that loitered on the city's periphery? That thought scared him more. The radio still mournfully played an Oboe concerto by Strauss, and David elected to simply lose himself in the stormy texture. He'd plot a course in the few remaining hours he had in his home. Had the music not descended into raucous applause before he arrived on his street, he might not have even noticed the silver luxury sedan peeking through the trees at the top of his sloping drive.
David breathed slowly, calmly and deliberately. He parked on the street two houses up, putting a hedge between him and his own slim front porch. This was not a coincidence, and he held the spiny cold of adrenaline in the back of his throat. He reached into his coat, fingers sliding around the grip of his old service pistol. He thumbed the draw guard, and slid it just free enough to snap the safety catch. He crouched low and worked his way through his neighbors overgrown garden, soft footfalls carrying him on a meandering route. The towering hydrangeas and tangled undergrowth kept him hypothetically hidden from whoever waited for him. He knelt in foliage at the edge of his lawn and peered through broad leaves at the car. Two large men, buzz-cut and broad slowly patrolled the edges of the driveway walking arching routes meant to surveil the street through the trees. A third silhouette, much slimmer but no shorter, leaned on the hood of the vehicle. He was looking directly at where David stood. David took that as his cue, and stepped out of the bushes.
"Stop!"
The third man's high, sharp voice cut the air, and he cast a slim hand in the direction of the others. One of them gave a whipping two-fingered gesture, and David felt his gun tugged from its holster. If he held it any tighter it might have broken his finger as it snapped out in front of him, hanging queerly just out of reach. Then disassembled itself, and there was a soft rain as the components scattered about the lawn.
"I told you to *stop* you sack of shit! What the fuck? We wait for the guy for four hours and the first thing you do is *fuck with him*?"
The man's wild gesticulations sent the pair cowering backwards. His limbs were slim and his fingers spidery, giving his motions a conductor's deliberate vigor. They all wore black suits with a silvery pin winking on the lapel, and there was a slim, long face peaking out of a wild shock of tawny hair. Tall pointed ears poked from the messy pile, and his eyes had an iridescent vibrancy. David thought of running, but recognized the futility as he was rounded on.
"Terribly sorry my friend, let me get that for you."
He gave a soft Beckoning sweep of his fingers, and the gun parts snapped across the ground into his outstretched hand. David stared darkly at the Fae offering him his gun with an undeniably mischievous smile that seemed to take up more of his face than was natural.
"I'm not your friend."
David snatched the pistol, checked the breach and holstered it, eyes only flitting from the Fae for a second. It's smile cracked, revealing a yellowing mouth of sharp splintered fangs. An unnerving reminder this *thing* was only playing at being human.
"Of course, stranger waiting for you with some goons, doesn't look good does it! However, I'm only here to offer you an opportunity. An opportunity that doesn't come about every day!"
The Fae lifted an open hand, which filled with dark leatherbound folio. He cracked it open and paged deliberately through it, shimmering eyes sweeping back and forth across the pages. David became aware that despite having only taken one step out of the bushes, he now stood a few feet onto his driveway, utterly unaware of when the transition occurred. There was a sharp gasp, and a finger snapped down onto the page.
"Right here. March 26th, two years previous. The third Alr'oquin expansion passed through this area, a natural phenomenon set in motion by the death of keeper Fallwetter. The government's required blood test showed several awakenings, you included. The new keeper elected to leave the mature humans ialone, but..."
He interrupted his babbling to chitter, covering his mouth with his slim fingers. As a rule David ignored the politics and news of sprawling magical events, as they were both complex to comprehend and often incorporeal in nature. He didn't feel he had any grasp on what the Fae was talking about.
"But, seeing as you are now...*unemployed*... We would like to offer you a scholarship to the New Fox-Sauk school of sorcery and practical magics."
He snapped the folio shut, and offered David an appraising look. He plumbed what little he understood, trying to comprehend. He had heard of people discovering latent magical abilities, and children born with the power after the coming of new nature. But the idea that not only was it within him, but he had been kept unawares? Had he even felt any significant difference, but would he? He began to stammer, starting sentences but not really knowing where to take them or what to ask. The Fae continued his smug look of appraisal, like a missionary offering the gospel. He stopped suddenly, watching the other men out of the corner of his eye. He suspected "no" might be an option without any significance.
"I...can do magic..."
The Fae nodded, smug smile spreading.
"And you'll teach me..."
"For three years, with eighteen months of service following as your practical certification. You people love your certifications."
That was a twinge, recognition his deal might have more strings than he could comprehend as of now.
"Why offer this? Why now, and not before? What reason do you have to teach me?"
"What reason did humans have to build colleges and schools for centuries? Knowledge is usable by all."
David thought, long and hard. He wasn't young, and both military school and the college after his service had been taxing on him. But it *was* a new natural order, and being a part of it might be more essential the stranger it all got. He thought of the Devils breathing flames across his old life, immolating twenty years of progress.
"I'll get my bag."
An arm shot out and touched his shoulder as he turned up his driveway
"New things will be provided. This property will still be yours, but the proximity to the wyvern roost...I suppose you should grab a souvenir...just a little something. A token of sorts"
David looked back up at his house, thinking of one thing he'd like to keep. His ex-wife's funeral card? The key to the moldering Impala out back? It came to his racing mind suddenly and simply. Up the stairs, through the small kitchen and down the stair into the little office that looked out the back of the house onto the woods. In the third drawer down, still in its dusty leatherette box under three folders of bank documents. Inside, the Cyrillic note simply read "keep it simple. Congratulations David." The single-hand Luch watch hadn't been wound in a decade, but he slipped off his comparatively glitzy Rolex and buckled it loosely on his wrist. His parents had been the only ones eager for him to go back to school, and he thought they might appreciate his return. As he walked down the front steps, he thought he saw a great shadow wheeling overhead, and swiftly disappeared into the silver car to began what he supposed was a new life.
|
Nobody believed the news when they saw it. Many thought it was a hoax and why shouldn’t they? A dragon rampaging though New York… it was like something out of the movies.
It is only now that we’re beginning to understand that all the legends, the lore, the fairy tales, if not true, were more real than we possibly could have imagined.
When the first Red dragon appeared, it… how can I explain this, it changed the rules we live by. Physics and logic, they became warped with each beat of its wings. Our technology ceased working overnight, as if the beast had absorbed it. Electricity is now more legendary than the dragons themselves. And, overnight, we lost our place at the top of the food chain. With our technology gone, we have never in our history been so susceptible to another species of animal.
New York was in gridlock when the first dragon struck, a year ago. It rose from the Hudson River, veiled by a terrible fog of steam it had created. Glowing from the embers beneath its skin, it torched the streets, with breath hot enough to melt the asphalt. Whole blocks succumbed to its blaze and the people it trapped were doomed. Some shot their guns but the bullets just ricocheted off it rock-like skin.
I was working in a call center that day. I hated the job; every aspect of it: the monotony of saying the same thing, over and over; having to be polite to rude people every day. In fact, I was thinking of handing in my notice that day. I had walked to work, as I normally did, and so was not affected by the gridlocked roads. It was impossible not to notice the chaos going on around you. And you can imagine the language I heard from the people I passed by on the sidewalk, who couldn’t get to work because the battery in every single cabby was broke.
The phones in the call centre weren’t working either. Cutting our losses, my colleagues and I went into the street and had lunch. It was while I was drinking a warm can of coke (all the refrigerators had lost power too) that we first felt the vibrations. The ground began to literally shake. Cars wobbled on their tyres and a couple of windows from the apartments up above us fractured. Quickly, we ran to find shelter. There was a lot of screaming. We all thought it was an earthquake. Then we saw the mushroom cloud of smoke rising into the sky.
“Not again. Those bastards.” I turned around and saw it was Sandra. She was a pale, middle aged woman I worked with and she was shaking with rage.
“No,” I told her. “This isn’t terrorism. Nothing human can make the ground shake like this.”
As if in agreement, the vibrations grew in strength. There was a pattern to it and it was getting more intense. Then we heard the roar.
Have you ever been so frightened that you choke? Well, that’s how frightened I was when the Red dragon appeared in front of us, as large as an elephant but as quick as a greyhound. Its six legs scrambled over the ground like an insect and its four eyes twitched, scanning everything around it.
I wanted to run but my legs had turned to stone. As it faced me, it screeched in rage. And then it did something I was not expecting.
The smouldering teeth in its mouth parted just enough for me to see the embers glowing inside.
An ancient voice, deep and gravelly, called out.
“Do not.. come closer… Bahumut.”
I didn’t understand. My legs were still frozen and my heart felt like it was exploding in my chest.
Then I felt it, like a switch inside of me had been turned on. The appearance of this monster had triggered something in me.
I was not longer standing on the floor. I was floating several feet above the ground.
Looking at my reflection in a shop window, I saw that I had transformed. It was inexplicable. I was something totally different… a white dragoon.
As I hovered towards it, it used all its six legs to pounce at me as flames dripped from its mouth.
Instinctively, I shot up into the air. I didn’t know how I was doing it but I was harnessing energy around me. In my hand, a spear of light appeared, glowing pearl. I came crashing down onto the beast and felt its skull concave under the tip of my spear.
It screeched, and hot ash rained down on me, burning my skin. Hissing, it withered and fell to the floor, turning into ash.
That was a year ago. Since then, I have discovered that I, and a few others, have the ability to fight these monsters. Since the destruction of military weapons, we’re all humanity have left.
I have been protecting as many people as I can, but too many have died, despite my best efforts. It is time I search for others, like myself. We have to find a way to kill all the Red dragons. Each month that they exist, it feels like the Earth tilts towards the irreconcilable.
There is a darker force awaiting us. I can sense it.
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[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
It had been a year since the first dragon returned. Apparently global warming was good for something, because the dragons brought magic and faes and all sorts of mythical things. And global warming brought the end of global warming, thank the gods, as we had conjured up some ridiculous set of spells that did something, I think it draws carbon dioxide from the air and turns it into something, but that's besides the point.
Today I'm going to set off on my first ever quest.
Magic was quickly replacing technology, but that doesn't mean tech just went out the window, no, it got an upgrade. Magically connected wifi all across the globe, hell yeah. I checked my phone and pulled up my Quest Log. Well Quest Log being the app everyone that wants to get hired for a quest uses.
My first quest was simple, wipe out some goblins, gotta start somewhere, right?
The location was fairly nearby, and the goblins hadn't become a threat yet, but the city leaders thought that it was only a matter of time. Doesn't matter as long as they pay me what I want. And for a first quest this had a pretty damn good price.
$500,000 to wipe out this encampment.
That price tag might make it seem dangerous, but in reality that's a measly sum for some of the more elite adventurers, plus the city has no idea what it's doing when it comes to all this new magic stuff, they tried to keep their head in the ground until someone nearly got killed by it.
I drove to the outside of the encampment and parked my car ok the hill above it. Alright I should have most of my gear, let's get started.
There's about a dozen goblins in all. They've got tens and a campfire and are outfitted with spears for the most part.
I raise my Steyr AUG and put the first goblin's head in my crosshairs. Breathe in. Hold. Squeeze.
The rifle bucks a little bit, recoil taking hold, but the goblin falls in an instant. The rest of them gather around the center of the camp, big mistake.
I flip the fire mode selector to burst, this AUG was specially commissioned thanks to my adventurers license.
With just a few more well placed shots the goblins all fall, ugh, goblins are fucking disgusting. I rifle through their camp and find some interesting stuff, little bit of gold, some jewelry, and a magic ring that I'll have to get identified later.
That was it? Kinda feels like I cheated, but who cares, I'm getting paid!
I return to the city and get my reward, deposited straight into my bank account. Sitting down at my computer I look at the next couple of quests. One for a young dragon's bounty catches my eye, but I'm gonna need a party for that.
|
That's enough, I've had it
I'm over my menial ways
Mundane and repeating
Day after day
These reports and this filing
It's always the same
I want some adventure
A real life role playing game
To quest and to loot
Against tremendous foes
To travel and shoot
Magical bows
*And arrows?*
Yes arrows, thank you Karen
*No problem Steve*
*Can you get down from the desk please Steve?*
Uhh, yeah sure, I'm doing a thing here Jim.
*Yeah, I can see that Steve, but you're distracting others.*
Right sorry.
I'll wear armour, ride horseback
Across mystical lands
I'll fight dragons and demons
In mercenary bands
I'll be home in time for tea
With my fairest of maidens
*Don't you forget, Steve*
*I want that report on my desk by*
Three
*Yes, three.*
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|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
It still isn't clear to me whether or not there was any good way to react to the news. Very suddenly our notion of society was twisted into something short of a melancholy plod through a freshly wild world.
I wanted to think that this was nature balancing herself out after the chaos humanity had wreaked rampant destruction throughout her forests and shores. Maybe the Fukushima Daiichi reactor had finally fallen into the ocean and transformed some hideous deep sea life. Perhaps, somewhere in the world, the antichrist had been born, and this was the coming of the final days.
Regardless, It was easy to walk out of work that morning.
It seemed so odd, that as everyone clambered and stumbled around the office, I silently packed away my things and made a calm exit to my car.
*“Finally!”*, I thought to myself, *“A way out!”*
Some way out it turned out to be. After some overgrown flying lizard torched my apartment building and all of my valuable crap, I was left on the street corner with my casual Friday slacks and a billowy team jacket I'd picked up at a thrift store years ago.
As night fell I began to wander through the city streets, packed with cars trying to evacuate but making no progress. It wasn't long before everyone began to grab what they could and haul ass on foot. Ominous smoke clouds hung before the dimming sunset. For the first time I felt a pang of anxiety, wondering if one of those things were descending down to obliterate me and a thousand others this very moment. I decided it might be a good time to make myself scarce and I ducked into a street side retail shop and vaulted over the counter.
It was a minute or two before I realized that I had no idea where I was. I poked my head around the rounded edge of the register counter and spied a collection of designer clothes hugging the thin frames of wiry mannequins. I was relieved but still uneasy. There was nobody around, and as far as I was concerned social order had all but collapsed, but even then, with the perfect opportunity to shoplift an executive wardrobe with no repercussions, the failings of my past self began to rear their shameful heads- alas, I was too overweight for debutante clothing...
Unfortunately something else reared its ugly head as one of the female mannequins sporting a cardigan began to shift as though there were a large rat inside.
I watched, frozen, beads of frigid sweat forming along my hairline, as a potbellied rat with the head of a tumor dropped out of the bosom of the model, and then another across the room, and another. I began to clamber back to the counter, slowly and with little strength in my legs. Was I hallucinating? Was I in Shock?
The first little rat rolled himself onto his rear. No, he wasn't a rat, he had no fur, or a tail... The more I watched him (her? It?) reposition himself the more clear it was that this was no animal. He had grubby little claws that ended in shiny black nails like a dog's, and when he turned to me I noticed his face was that of a man's but with a long, beak like nose.
*“W-welcome to our-”* it stopped as it spat a sickly smelling yellow phlegm onto the hardwood floor *“Eshabblement!”*
I knew there was the possibility I wasn't hallucinating. First dragons now, what, rat people? As I tried to rationalize the event I scarcely noticed the other mannequin droppings scooting and crawling behind the vocal gremlin.
“Wh... Who are you?” I demanded out of fear. Each of them registered about a foot or 2 in height from what I could tell in the dim interior of the store. I could have probably punted each of them a good distance were there not at least 50 of them and more tumbling down from curtains and trench coats. The ugly orator scooted a little closer on his butt before awkwardly standing on his spindly legs.
*“Wesh livin da wooooooools!”* he gurgled through a veneer of dull yellow teeth that sat angrily in his maw like a crocodile's, *“Wesh livin he fur eva!”*
*“Fur eva! Fur eva!”* his congregation repeated in gurgling shrieks, spilling more bile and phlegm from their shining lips as they advanced towards me, licking their chops.
I could barely get the “Fuck you” out of my mouth before the windows exploded.
*“Try not to hit the live one”* was all I could hear, bellowed out in a raspy cry as the mob of abominations before me erupted into water balloons of yellow and black bile.
As I tried to get off my back one of the beasts leaped onto my chest, slamming the back of my head against the fake hardwood floor. I looked up at the little mongrel as he unsuccessfully attempted to wrap his meager mitts around my neck. Without much thinking, and adrenaline flooding my otherwise meek judgment, I returned the favor and popped the beats miniature adam's apple like a piece of bubble wrap. Disgusted, I heaved the convulsing dwarf across the room and turned to the now blown out door. A group of shadow clad figures faced me, a bright floodlight blocking my vision.
I attempted to hold my hands up in surrender, but was dragged out by one of the shadow men. He must have been strong, as he flung me from the edge of the store into the bright blinding light.
I turned back towards the storefront. I saw a fragile looking man in a hood against the outside wall, chanting something in a low roar like a threatened tiger.
This was about the time the strong man flipped me on my back, catching only a brief glimpse of his pale face before slamming the butt of a rifle into mine.
|
That's enough, I've had it
I'm over my menial ways
Mundane and repeating
Day after day
These reports and this filing
It's always the same
I want some adventure
A real life role playing game
To quest and to loot
Against tremendous foes
To travel and shoot
Magical bows
*And arrows?*
Yes arrows, thank you Karen
*No problem Steve*
*Can you get down from the desk please Steve?*
Uhh, yeah sure, I'm doing a thing here Jim.
*Yeah, I can see that Steve, but you're distracting others.*
Right sorry.
I'll wear armour, ride horseback
Across mystical lands
I'll fight dragons and demons
In mercenary bands
I'll be home in time for tea
With my fairest of maidens
*Don't you forget, Steve*
*I want that report on my desk by*
Three
*Yes, three.*
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|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
"Laura!"
"Shut up, Darryl! I'm working on it!"
The mana weave dissolved again as it hit the seventh-dimension complexity. I pulled the crash report from the collapsing mess with a three-fingered gesture while my other hand began recasting the environmental shield that was beginning to stutter.
"The drake breathing fire down my neck really isn't helping!" I shouted as I isolated the problem and recompiled the spell matrix with a muttered voice command.
Our tank, Darryl, let out a strangled sound of indignation that was drowned in the roar of fire. I couldn't see his face due to the inferno that rushed around and all over my protective bubble, but I trusted that it was appropriately disgruntled.
"Sorry that I can't kill a giant freaking dragon-"
"-*drake*-" Syrion interrupted somewhere to my left.
"-with a rusty bronze sword and silver armor, then! Oh wait, that's *your* job."
A cacophony of clangs pierced the bellow of an angry drake—the sound of armor plates clashing against each other under the brunt of the beast's blow.
*After this operation, 1772 kµ of additional mana capacity will be used.*
*Do you want to continue [Y/n]?*
"Syrion!" I yelled. "Ready on my side!"
"Finally!" Darryl groaned.
"**<Divine Clarity>**!" the Elven cleric commanded. The ancient tongue that all clerics used was foreign to my ears, but I at least recognized the words of the invocation.
An unspeakable calm washed over all of us, cleansing the air of drake breath as its invisible wavefront crested over the battlefield. I had to actively stop my muscles from relaxing involuntarily. Colors became more saturated, but simultaneously *lighter*. The sun broke through the clouds of ash in slow motion, casting rays of holy light that sang to me of the glory of Sarom-Golut. The scorched earth and the magma flows that dotted the landscape was bleak but *beautiful*, urging me to-
*Dammit. Think of something else. Illiterate users. Firmware updates that break your code. Memory leaks that you can't find.*
I confirmed the operation.
*> Enter true name of target matrix:*
I opened another holographic terminal.
*mUNIX-3.1.03-Local:~ Laura$ reqname -true -rel 2.3 9.6 7.2*
*Azmyolunn*
Ctrl+C, shut down window, back to the other prompt. Ctrl+V.
*> Target acquired. BindObject instance initialized.*
Time returned to normal. The configured spell lashed away from me, hovered for a split second, and zoomed towards the still-entranced drake that had just involuntarily given up its true name under <Divine Clarity>. Syrion and Darryl joined my side as we watched the program run its course.
Red voxel holograms flickered to life all over the drake the moment the scripted object made impact, mapping out its volume with a flood-fill algorithm. Before the beast could react, the tracks of red collapsed into a wireframe mesh that contracted around it, eliciting a pained grunt.
Elemental effector beams seared the earth, overwriting the black basalt with polished marble engraved with complex glyphs in a split second. Almost immediately, they burst to life with green energy, followed by rapid-fire geometric matrices blinking in and out of existence, the calculations completed instantly by a quintuple-core magical processor running off mana circuits.
As quick as it began, the process was over. The glowy lines dissolved, the marble remained, and the drake was... well, sitting there immobile. Bound, by chains that now existed not physically but carved into its soul matrix.
I pulled an electronic USB stick from where it was floating, plugged into the mUNIX construct, and pocketed it. The thaumogenetic material read from the creature would be worth quite a bit to the folks at the Cambridge Thaumobiology Research Institute.
"Impressive," Syrion mused. "That binding would have taken an experienced mage at least eight hours to complete."
I checked the log on my primary holographic screen.
"2.43 seconds."
Suboptimal, but this was only the program's first test outside of a dream-plane emulator.
"I had to hold the thing off for half an hour!"
"Shut up, Darryl. We're getting paid handsomely for this." I rolled my eyes.
"Perhaps it was fortunate that we slept through the centuries. This new age has brought many wonders despite its many limitations."
"I'm just glad you came back. Trust me, Walmart shifts aren't fun."
I tuned the two out as I read through the logs of the experimental binder script. The extra computation time was a byproduct of ambient chaos magic, it seemed, which induced a time dilation that was fortunately corrected for by mana inertia. Mana cost went up by 72%, though.
The bound drake was technically mine—Syrion and Darryl were hired labor, so the quest winnings belonged to me by guild rules. This meant I could go over any mana leaks in the binding matrix when I got back to my workshop. If it didn't unravel by that time, of course, but a cursory inspection told me that it would hold.
My first quest, and I had successfully bound a drake in two seconds. All it had taken was three years of study and experimentation while living on what little savings I had left over.
*No matter how much my old manager had underpaid me, I guess all of that software engineering experience paid off after all.*
|
That's enough, I've had it
I'm over my menial ways
Mundane and repeating
Day after day
These reports and this filing
It's always the same
I want some adventure
A real life role playing game
To quest and to loot
Against tremendous foes
To travel and shoot
Magical bows
*And arrows?*
Yes arrows, thank you Karen
*No problem Steve*
*Can you get down from the desk please Steve?*
Uhh, yeah sure, I'm doing a thing here Jim.
*Yeah, I can see that Steve, but you're distracting others.*
Right sorry.
I'll wear armour, ride horseback
Across mystical lands
I'll fight dragons and demons
In mercenary bands
I'll be home in time for tea
With my fairest of maidens
*Don't you forget, Steve*
*I want that report on my desk by*
Three
*Yes, three.*
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
It was a tired Wednesday when my first quest dropped through the letterbox.
I was eating a thick piece of burnt toast, lamenting my wasted weekend spent shifting from dead website to dead website on the ghost town the internet had become. Exploration and magic is certainly a greater draw than sitting down and fumbling your way through groups of old posts on some random forum. And so sites died a death of a thousand cuts. I still looked for those hidden conclaves of activity but they were becoming scarcer and scarcer; each user suddenly dropping from the loop to travel and quest.
It wasn't until a year after the initial outbreak of magic that i received my own quest. a thick envelope delivered by those strange, inhuman bipeds with long thin arms and uncanny faces that pop the letters through your letterbox and scurry off towards some unknown appointment.
I picked up my unexpected package. feeling the soft Fae paper that was almost silk. I slid out the contents and stared at what the Quest-giver had granted me: A beautiful intricate knife constructed with some kind of white metal, a thin brass compass that pointed to the nearest gate, and a thick book written back in the Age of Miracles that was titled "The God's Pantheon"(of course not written in English but the Fae had magic that fixed that).
There was a sheet of paper behind the book that dictated my quest.
'Kill The Collector'
'reward: 4,000,000gld'
'description: you are to kill The Collector, a demigod that has existed with differing influence ever since The Renewal during The Age of Miracle's. upon completing this task report to the Quest-giver immediately. The provided literature will assist you in this (look especially at pages 954-1000 if you wish to know more about the Collector) and information on how to slay an immortal god can be found in the end of the book where it lists the deceased gods and how their deaths were achieved. The provided blade may be useful as it was used to kill The'kema the god of war during the last days of the Age of Miracles
We have no knowledge as to the Collectors location so it would be within your best interests to find that first.
if you do not wish to or are unable to take this quest please reseal the envelope and a Servant will be along to collect it'
My face paled audibly. This was nothing like other quests; most were simple affairs that consisted of acquiring a handful of wool and giving it to the Quest-giver for a small reward, and As for the reward here. nothing i had ever heard of compared: 5 gold for some goblin hide, 15 gold for a couple kilo's of iron. FOUR MILLION. It was an amount i could barely comprehend; earning 10 gold an hour in my current job and having 30 on me, four million was an absolutely ridiculous number.
And so slightly shaken at the responsibility placed on me and thoroughly unprepared i set out on my first quest. Little did i know what i was getting into.
|
That's enough, I've had it
I'm over my menial ways
Mundane and repeating
Day after day
These reports and this filing
It's always the same
I want some adventure
A real life role playing game
To quest and to loot
Against tremendous foes
To travel and shoot
Magical bows
*And arrows?*
Yes arrows, thank you Karen
*No problem Steve*
*Can you get down from the desk please Steve?*
Uhh, yeah sure, I'm doing a thing here Jim.
*Yeah, I can see that Steve, but you're distracting others.*
Right sorry.
I'll wear armour, ride horseback
Across mystical lands
I'll fight dragons and demons
In mercenary bands
I'll be home in time for tea
With my fairest of maidens
*Don't you forget, Steve*
*I want that report on my desk by*
Three
*Yes, three.*
|
|
[WP] A year ago the Dragons returned, the world finally having warmed up enough to keep them from freezing to death, and with them have returned the Fae and all the magic; which is replacing technology quickly. You've quit your mundane job, and today you've set off on your first-ever Quest.
|
*God, I miss Wi-Fi.*
A rather grumpy woman, all things considered, trudged through the rain-soaked mud of something vaguely resembling 21st Century Scotland. For many weeks, she continued her long march north, fingers frozen to her quarterstaff, whole body shivering despite her thick woolen cloak, and yet she did not relent, for this woman - Fiona, as she was known best - had a quest.
*And Taxis. And heating. And not going on quests.*
When the Dragons had first arrived, Fiona had been shocked. Delighted, awed, more curious than she'd ever found herself, but absolutely, unequivocally, mind-bogglingly *stunned.*
To Fiona, it was as if the universe had finally admitted it had always been ridiculous, and was now attempting to own it.
And with the Dragons, came magic. Not immediately, but wherever the Fae Folk - as the menagerie of creatures that looked as though they'd been torn directly from storybooks had proudly dubbed themselves - went, strange things followed. It was as if their very presence awakened new rules in the universe. Wherever they went, so did the magic.
It was small, to begin with. Sometimes, someone would wake up and find themselves suddenly beautiful, or young, or healthy, with no explanation as to how. Certain people became gifted with extraordinary glibness to such a degree that laws had begun being filed to prevent the misuse of such magics - really, Fiona respected their initiative - not to mention a host of other magical effects.
But then things had started going wrong. In remote areas, small devices stopped working on an international level, then radio, then electricity itself, before the world had realized what was happening. Then came The Crash, and with it, The Fall of The Modern World.
All over Planet Earth, like a city skyline, all the lights went out - one by one, every computer died, every lightbulb went black, every vehicle just *stopped.*
People died. Lots of them. Rumours said that there were talks of bringing war to the Fae, to the Dragons, believing that The Crash was intentional on their part, but what were rumours nowadays? And really, what chance did humanity stand, if it came to that?
Fiona cursed under her breath as she continued her quiet march.
She wanted to break the staff in her hand in two, but she wasn't the kind to turn away an advantage when it presented itself. Fiona wasn't especially skilled with magic - not even amongst humans, who, as far as Fiona could tell, had less than no natural predisposition to the skill - but there was no downside she knew of so long as she didn't exhaust herself, and, frankly, it was her only asset right now.
Well, that, her zombie apocalypse survival plan (because she'd always known it'd be useful eventually), and what she personally liked to call her logic detector.
Apparently, when magic became a thing, most people decided to abandon common sense in favour of spending all day wishing they could shoot lasers from their eyes.
Fiona could see the appeal in eye lasers, of course, but they were going about it all wrong.
When a new, powerful, dangerous force which you know absolutely *nothing* about suddenly appears along with the beasts and people of myth, do you poke it with a stick?
No. Of course not. You put on a labcoat, and gently prod it, recording how it reacts.
With safety goggles.
Thus far, Fiona had discovered that A) she could slightly alter the colour, temperature, texture, and, if she pushed herself slightly, material of a reasonably small object, and that B) magic was inscrutable, deliberately obtuse, and unfair.
Despite all her testing, there was just no *reason* to any of it. It wasn't a mental block - simple tests with blindfolds and the like had revealed that - there was no understandable limit on the types of things she'd managed to change - she could alter most inanimate objects, certain plants (but not any other living creatures, and a few plants had stubbornly refused to change), and once, when feeling particularly frustrated, had accidentally managed to turn her hair bright pinkish-red.
As it stood, Fiona was making about as good a use of her power as she could manage. She had managed to make her map glow, which, for what it's worth, did make it readable.
Unfortunately, she could only maintain one effect at a time. Thus, freezing.
She'd acquired the map in the ruins of Leeds. It promised a small settlement with working power - the whole thing set running by a series of hydropower turbines built in the nearby lake. Fiona wasn't sure whether that sort of thing would be simple enough to evade magic's nullification - assuming that it was all magic's fault in the first place, though she was comfortable with that educated guess - but it was her best bet, and who knows? Perhaps a large constant stream of energy immediately fed into a device that only consumes a small amount of power - say, a light bulb - might be able to sustain itself?
Fiona wasn't sure, but it was worth testing, and it beat scavenging in Leeds of all places.
Besides, contrary to her previous statement, Fiona really felt like poking magic with a stick right now.
---
Fiona sat on a worn, blue sofa, the massed armies of lint retreating into the folds of its cushions, making way for the giant come to destroy their home.
She sat clutching a large mug of tea in both hands. Teabags were a rarity nowadays, and this was amongst the last of her supply, but she felt she'd earned it.
You see, in the immediate aftermath of the crash, Fiona had made a list of all the important information she'd been able to gather. It had been so sudden she didn't have much to go off of, but the list was as follows;
Firstly, magic had started affecting the more remote areas first, disabling tiny devices like remote-control toys and phone chargers before anything else.
Secondly, The Crash had been almost instant, worldwide. There had been no time zone advantage, as far as she knew. It was as if magic's suppressing force had simply reached breaking point, and swept across the world suddenly and without mercy.
And finally, magic did seem to care about complexity. The Crash had lasted about an hour, in total, and during that time, the internet had lasted around 10 minutes with spotty connection. There had been reports on the carnage as planes fell from the sky, crushing the earth below them, and any populated road was left devastated. Throughout the entire event, however, Fiona's phone had stubbornly managed to stay active, even if it's primary use was long gone.
These things put together, Fiona's pet theory - one of them, at least - had been that magic wasn't passive in location, that it was affecting certain areas first due to reasons other than total amount of technology. She thought that certain conditions must be met before it could simply 'turn off' everything, and, following that, that if it wasn't absolute, it could be fought.
The right kind of simple technology, that which acted as a direct result of being fed power or, for the most part, worked independently, might be able to sustain itself.
And so it was that Fiona sat with a smug grin on her face, happily drinking her tea, as she basked in the dim, yellow, glow of a lightbulb.
*Today is a good day*.
---
I really was not expecting the response this story got. Thank you all so much for what you've said, I was grinning like a maniac all day yesterday. I've wrote several follow-ups to this and deleted half of them, but this is the best one I've managed to write, even if it isn't as long as the first. I'll make sure to think about turning this into a book (Whether it's a novel, novella, short story, etc), and I'll PM anyone who said they were interested in the idea when and if it comes out, but until then, really, thank you so much. I'm glad you liked this.
|
That's enough, I've had it
I'm over my menial ways
Mundane and repeating
Day after day
These reports and this filing
It's always the same
I want some adventure
A real life role playing game
To quest and to loot
Against tremendous foes
To travel and shoot
Magical bows
*And arrows?*
Yes arrows, thank you Karen
*No problem Steve*
*Can you get down from the desk please Steve?*
Uhh, yeah sure, I'm doing a thing here Jim.
*Yeah, I can see that Steve, but you're distracting others.*
Right sorry.
I'll wear armour, ride horseback
Across mystical lands
I'll fight dragons and demons
In mercenary bands
I'll be home in time for tea
With my fairest of maidens
*Don't you forget, Steve*
*I want that report on my desk by*
Three
*Yes, three.*
|
|
[WP] You discover you can travel in time, but only if you have a coin with the date of your destination. While exploring 1780's england, you lose your 2017 penny that's your ticket home.
|
2017 penny? Check. Secure in a case on a chain bracelet around my wrist.
'1780s noble woman's costume' purchased off amazon? Check. Wearing it. It’s a poofy dress with flower print. I practice a curtsy in the mirror, "lady Blanche of Devonshire. Pleased to meet you. Yes, Duke William is my elder brother, have you made his acquaintance? Oh you have? You didn't know he had a sister named Blanche? Well I'm glad you rid you of that ignorance, now be gone from my sight."
Fake jewelry that's good enough to fool people of the time? Check. I’m up to my ears in fake gold and pearls.
.45 caliber Springfield semi-automatic pistol, 12-shot clip? Check. Strapped to my hip, over the corset.
Secondary clip? Check.
Forgetting anything? I don't think so.
Time to hit the tavern and have some fun. I open the closet door and take a deep breath. The trip is always... Well, it's a trip all right.
My heart starts thumping in my chest, and I wipe my sweaty palms on my cheap costume. This is why I do it, after all. For the unholy thrill of it. The danger, the unknown. I've taken five trips now, about to make it six. Some have been long, multi-day adventures, others have been wild and short. They've all been close calls in some way or another. I always come back thinking "nope, no, that's it, never again." I mean it each time, too. I promise myself. But when Thursday rolls around, and I’m in the cubicle, ticking away the hours of another pointless week... Well, that's when I know that the last promise was a lie. And I’ll lie again, I know, if I make it back.
I hold the 1780's penny in my left palm and step through. I'm falling, spinning, hurling though dark cold air that crackles like static. Can't breathe. It stings my skin; it burns. It’s unbearable, then it's over and I'm curled up under a pile of burlap.
I hear men conversing in low whispers around me. It smells moldy and damp. Damn trip never drops you in the same place twice. Last time I went to 18th century England I wound up in Buckingham palace dressed like a cabbage farmer! This time I'm in a goddamn cellar dressed like the duchess of Devonshire. Shit. Oh well. I unclip my pistol in its holster and wait. This will be interesting.
"Where's Oliver?" One of them asks.
"He'll be here." Another says. They sound nervous.
"He's late."
"He'll be here!" The guy growls.
“I don’t trust him.”
“Okay. Well how exactly do you propose we proceed without him? Hmm? Know a lot of palace guards loyal to our cause?”
The other man stays quiet.
Very quietly I tug on a corner of the potato sack, uncovering one eye. We're in a basement. It's dimly lit by a few oil lamps. I can see one of their faces and the other's back. I'm in the corner, hidden by shadows and empty sacks.
I'm content waiting it out, seeing what happens, then suddenly a dark shadow darts across the floor towards me. It's a rat! Rat. Rat. Rat. I hate rats. Hate them more than anything. I tense up. The disgusting thing keeps darting towards me, running along the edge where the floor meets the wall. Shit. No god, don't come--
Here! It's here! It's scurrying about in the sacks. I can feel it below me. Oh god it touched my ankle! The thought of it getting up my dress crosses my mind and I just lose it. I scream and thrash and kick wildly, then I tumble out from the potato sacks, drawing my pistol.
"Hold it!" I shout, leveling the massive gun at the two guys, but I was slow and they are armed. They both have muzzle loaded flintlocks pointed back at me.
"What in tarnation?" Says one guy.
"Who are you and where in the hell did you come from?" Says the other. He was the guy who had his back turned to me before. His face was partially hidden by shadow and smeared with dirt, but he had sapphire blue eyes that glinted in the dim oil-flame light.
I alternate my aim from one to the other. "I had fallen asleep--" I start the first explanation that comes to mind. Their brows furrow and I realize that I'm not using the accent that I practiced. Damn, I'm messing this up worse than my first time!
As though on cue, a third man appears in the dark shadow of the doorway. He freezes, then draws a pistol. The steel glints as he extends it into the room and points it at me. He stays in the shadows. Shit. Three on one.
I lower the gun. "Gents," I say, using the accent, "I fled down to the cellars--"
"Quiet." Says the man in the doorway. The other two look back, they hadn't noticed him.
"Oliver." Says one. "She came out of nowhere."
It's quiet for a moment. I unclip the case with my left hand and take the penny into my palm. All I need to do is walk through that doorway with my eyes closed and mind focused and it should work.
"Put down the pistol and walk forward." Oliver says. "Slowly." His voice is distantly familiar.
I do as he says. My legs are trembling. I have the penny palmed. I could dash for the door.
"It's her." He says as I approach the lamp. He steps forward. I recognize him from my first trip. He was a guard in Buckingham who chased me when I got caught. He saw my disappear through a doorway. "The one I told you lot about. It's her."
I run to the door. One of the guys springs to grab me, but I spin past him. I'm almost there but an arm takes me around the waist and lifts me clean off my feet. Oliver throws me to the ground and the penny goes scattering across the room, lost somewhere in the dust and shadows.
A bag goes over my head and I'm lifted up again.
"We'll take her." Oliver says. "She might be of use to the cause."
|
The eyes of everyone were sullen,
but penny in hand, I had no fear.
Suddenly I realized what was the matter,
hearing whispers, "American victory is near."
Was the Revolution still going on?
I should've paid more attention in school.
Well this 1780 coin is really paying off.
Go America! Kick rocks on English rule.
Suddenly, feet away, a fight breaks out.
Great, I've got nowhere to stand.
The idiots crash right into me...
and there goes the penny from my hand.
I drop to the ground quickly,
getting stepped on throughout the fight.
But I'm sure as hell not getting stuck here,
Not here on this night.
During the scuffle my penny is kicked,
It rolls into a dark space.
Then the same idiot steps on my ankle,
So I got up and punched him in the face.
I quickly regretted my action,
as the other combatant caught a break.
So he quickly pulled a knife and stabbed the man,
so much blood, it almost looked fake.
Holy shit I've got to go,
There! My coin is in sight!
But before I can grab it I'm tackled.
"You're going to jail, murderous wight!"
Weeks later I stand there at trial,
And everyone testifies I threw a punch.
They think I'm accomplice to murder.
Not one believes me in the whole bunch.
I hear "20 years" after "Guilty,"
Then the judge says one more thing,
"You can either spend your time in prison,
or you can take up arms for the King."
I'm sure as hell not sitting in jail,
so taking up arms is what I'll do.
They say I'm going to fight the colonists.
I can see the irony, I'm sure you do too.
September 8 of '81 at Eutaw Springs,
the scouts are out scavenging around farms.
What's Colonel Stewart yelling about now?
"To arms! To arms! To arms!"
Fucking penny.
|
|
[WP] You discover you can travel in time, but only if you have a coin with the date of your destination. While exploring 1780's england, you lose your 2017 penny that's your ticket home.
|
The problem with time travel is its... Well it absolutely sucks.
Subjectively you are in 13 minutes of free fall utter blackness. It doesn't matter when you are going its 13 minutes exactly. Something about cesium and prime factors or something all lining up. You have to learn to meditate or you risk going mad.
Then there is gas. I couldn't tell you the science on it. But you will fart like you've never have upon arrival. Thankfully for about two minutes only. Then like getting hit in the forehead with a hammer you're out. That tired that quick. But it wears off in about ten minutes and you get up feeling like you've had mono for two months.
The weirdest part is the destination. You need a link. Something people believe in, believe has power. It's a quantum thing tied to observation, and getting into it is far more complicated that the farting or the mindless dark.
On my first jump i went back a year. Just one. Then back to the roman era with a group of others. Holy shit the languages. and the smell.
You can't talk to these people. Not really, even the guys that study languages have major issues with trying to communicate without looking retarded to the locals.
Middle English is as bad as early Germanic. Its all drunks with marbles in their mouths.
And the bathrooms. Literal shit in the streets in some cases.
Which brings me to my current predicament. Waist deep in a shit-hole. A literal shit-hole searching for my 2017 penny that fell out from my trousers or whatever they call this rough cut of leg coverings. Thankfully cell phone cameras wont be invented for some time yet, but the locals are still getting some entertainment.
I've puked out everything I've ever eaten. Twice. And its only been ten minutes.
Ah time travel, its not the best way to break the laws of physics, its the only way.
|
The eyes of everyone were sullen,
but penny in hand, I had no fear.
Suddenly I realized what was the matter,
hearing whispers, "American victory is near."
Was the Revolution still going on?
I should've paid more attention in school.
Well this 1780 coin is really paying off.
Go America! Kick rocks on English rule.
Suddenly, feet away, a fight breaks out.
Great, I've got nowhere to stand.
The idiots crash right into me...
and there goes the penny from my hand.
I drop to the ground quickly,
getting stepped on throughout the fight.
But I'm sure as hell not getting stuck here,
Not here on this night.
During the scuffle my penny is kicked,
It rolls into a dark space.
Then the same idiot steps on my ankle,
So I got up and punched him in the face.
I quickly regretted my action,
as the other combatant caught a break.
So he quickly pulled a knife and stabbed the man,
so much blood, it almost looked fake.
Holy shit I've got to go,
There! My coin is in sight!
But before I can grab it I'm tackled.
"You're going to jail, murderous wight!"
Weeks later I stand there at trial,
And everyone testifies I threw a punch.
They think I'm accomplice to murder.
Not one believes me in the whole bunch.
I hear "20 years" after "Guilty,"
Then the judge says one more thing,
"You can either spend your time in prison,
or you can take up arms for the King."
I'm sure as hell not sitting in jail,
so taking up arms is what I'll do.
They say I'm going to fight the colonists.
I can see the irony, I'm sure you do too.
September 8 of '81 at Eutaw Springs,
the scouts are out scavenging around farms.
What's Colonel Stewart yelling about now?
"To arms! To arms! To arms!"
Fucking penny.
|
|
[WP] You discover you can travel in time, but only if you have a coin with the date of your destination. While exploring 1780's england, you lose your 2017 penny that's your ticket home.
|
It was in 1780 when I was rifling though my pockets wondering what the hell I would do now when a version of myself appeared in front of me. "Oh hey past me" he said, "here's the coin you need; I brought two this time." I almost dropped the flick of bronze which passed between us. "By the way, when you get back, do remember to do this as soon as possible even though I know you won't because I procrastinated it off for 6 months and only just remembered it now...er well I guess I'll be off, this is really weird and I'm trying really hard not go off script even though I seem to be doing it perfectly anyway and sorry I can't take this anymore I'm done." And then I disappeared from the street leaving myself on the street.
|
The eyes of everyone were sullen,
but penny in hand, I had no fear.
Suddenly I realized what was the matter,
hearing whispers, "American victory is near."
Was the Revolution still going on?
I should've paid more attention in school.
Well this 1780 coin is really paying off.
Go America! Kick rocks on English rule.
Suddenly, feet away, a fight breaks out.
Great, I've got nowhere to stand.
The idiots crash right into me...
and there goes the penny from my hand.
I drop to the ground quickly,
getting stepped on throughout the fight.
But I'm sure as hell not getting stuck here,
Not here on this night.
During the scuffle my penny is kicked,
It rolls into a dark space.
Then the same idiot steps on my ankle,
So I got up and punched him in the face.
I quickly regretted my action,
as the other combatant caught a break.
So he quickly pulled a knife and stabbed the man,
so much blood, it almost looked fake.
Holy shit I've got to go,
There! My coin is in sight!
But before I can grab it I'm tackled.
"You're going to jail, murderous wight!"
Weeks later I stand there at trial,
And everyone testifies I threw a punch.
They think I'm accomplice to murder.
Not one believes me in the whole bunch.
I hear "20 years" after "Guilty,"
Then the judge says one more thing,
"You can either spend your time in prison,
or you can take up arms for the King."
I'm sure as hell not sitting in jail,
so taking up arms is what I'll do.
They say I'm going to fight the colonists.
I can see the irony, I'm sure you do too.
September 8 of '81 at Eutaw Springs,
the scouts are out scavenging around farms.
What's Colonel Stewart yelling about now?
"To arms! To arms! To arms!"
Fucking penny.
|
|
[WP] You discover you can travel in time, but only if you have a coin with the date of your destination. While exploring 1780's england, you lose your 2017 penny that's your ticket home.
|
The problem with time travel is its... Well it absolutely sucks.
Subjectively you are in 13 minutes of free fall utter blackness. It doesn't matter when you are going its 13 minutes exactly. Something about cesium and prime factors or something all lining up. You have to learn to meditate or you risk going mad.
Then there is gas. I couldn't tell you the science on it. But you will fart like you've never have upon arrival. Thankfully for about two minutes only. Then like getting hit in the forehead with a hammer you're out. That tired that quick. But it wears off in about ten minutes and you get up feeling like you've had mono for two months.
The weirdest part is the destination. You need a link. Something people believe in, believe has power. It's a quantum thing tied to observation, and getting into it is far more complicated that the farting or the mindless dark.
On my first jump i went back a year. Just one. Then back to the roman era with a group of others. Holy shit the languages. and the smell.
You can't talk to these people. Not really, even the guys that study languages have major issues with trying to communicate without looking retarded to the locals.
Middle English is as bad as early Germanic. Its all drunks with marbles in their mouths.
And the bathrooms. Literal shit in the streets in some cases.
Which brings me to my current predicament. Waist deep in a shit-hole. A literal shit-hole searching for my 2017 penny that fell out from my trousers or whatever they call this rough cut of leg coverings. Thankfully cell phone cameras wont be invented for some time yet, but the locals are still getting some entertainment.
I've puked out everything I've ever eaten. Twice. And its only been ten minutes.
Ah time travel, its not the best way to break the laws of physics, its the only way.
|
2017 penny? Check. Secure in a case on a chain bracelet around my wrist.
'1780s noble woman's costume' purchased off amazon? Check. Wearing it. It’s a poofy dress with flower print. I practice a curtsy in the mirror, "lady Blanche of Devonshire. Pleased to meet you. Yes, Duke William is my elder brother, have you made his acquaintance? Oh you have? You didn't know he had a sister named Blanche? Well I'm glad you rid you of that ignorance, now be gone from my sight."
Fake jewelry that's good enough to fool people of the time? Check. I’m up to my ears in fake gold and pearls.
.45 caliber Springfield semi-automatic pistol, 12-shot clip? Check. Strapped to my hip, over the corset.
Secondary clip? Check.
Forgetting anything? I don't think so.
Time to hit the tavern and have some fun. I open the closet door and take a deep breath. The trip is always... Well, it's a trip all right.
My heart starts thumping in my chest, and I wipe my sweaty palms on my cheap costume. This is why I do it, after all. For the unholy thrill of it. The danger, the unknown. I've taken five trips now, about to make it six. Some have been long, multi-day adventures, others have been wild and short. They've all been close calls in some way or another. I always come back thinking "nope, no, that's it, never again." I mean it each time, too. I promise myself. But when Thursday rolls around, and I’m in the cubicle, ticking away the hours of another pointless week... Well, that's when I know that the last promise was a lie. And I’ll lie again, I know, if I make it back.
I hold the 1780's penny in my left palm and step through. I'm falling, spinning, hurling though dark cold air that crackles like static. Can't breathe. It stings my skin; it burns. It’s unbearable, then it's over and I'm curled up under a pile of burlap.
I hear men conversing in low whispers around me. It smells moldy and damp. Damn trip never drops you in the same place twice. Last time I went to 18th century England I wound up in Buckingham palace dressed like a cabbage farmer! This time I'm in a goddamn cellar dressed like the duchess of Devonshire. Shit. Oh well. I unclip my pistol in its holster and wait. This will be interesting.
"Where's Oliver?" One of them asks.
"He'll be here." Another says. They sound nervous.
"He's late."
"He'll be here!" The guy growls.
“I don’t trust him.”
“Okay. Well how exactly do you propose we proceed without him? Hmm? Know a lot of palace guards loyal to our cause?”
The other man stays quiet.
Very quietly I tug on a corner of the potato sack, uncovering one eye. We're in a basement. It's dimly lit by a few oil lamps. I can see one of their faces and the other's back. I'm in the corner, hidden by shadows and empty sacks.
I'm content waiting it out, seeing what happens, then suddenly a dark shadow darts across the floor towards me. It's a rat! Rat. Rat. Rat. I hate rats. Hate them more than anything. I tense up. The disgusting thing keeps darting towards me, running along the edge where the floor meets the wall. Shit. No god, don't come--
Here! It's here! It's scurrying about in the sacks. I can feel it below me. Oh god it touched my ankle! The thought of it getting up my dress crosses my mind and I just lose it. I scream and thrash and kick wildly, then I tumble out from the potato sacks, drawing my pistol.
"Hold it!" I shout, leveling the massive gun at the two guys, but I was slow and they are armed. They both have muzzle loaded flintlocks pointed back at me.
"What in tarnation?" Says one guy.
"Who are you and where in the hell did you come from?" Says the other. He was the guy who had his back turned to me before. His face was partially hidden by shadow and smeared with dirt, but he had sapphire blue eyes that glinted in the dim oil-flame light.
I alternate my aim from one to the other. "I had fallen asleep--" I start the first explanation that comes to mind. Their brows furrow and I realize that I'm not using the accent that I practiced. Damn, I'm messing this up worse than my first time!
As though on cue, a third man appears in the dark shadow of the doorway. He freezes, then draws a pistol. The steel glints as he extends it into the room and points it at me. He stays in the shadows. Shit. Three on one.
I lower the gun. "Gents," I say, using the accent, "I fled down to the cellars--"
"Quiet." Says the man in the doorway. The other two look back, they hadn't noticed him.
"Oliver." Says one. "She came out of nowhere."
It's quiet for a moment. I unclip the case with my left hand and take the penny into my palm. All I need to do is walk through that doorway with my eyes closed and mind focused and it should work.
"Put down the pistol and walk forward." Oliver says. "Slowly." His voice is distantly familiar.
I do as he says. My legs are trembling. I have the penny palmed. I could dash for the door.
"It's her." He says as I approach the lamp. He steps forward. I recognize him from my first trip. He was a guard in Buckingham who chased me when I got caught. He saw my disappear through a doorway. "The one I told you lot about. It's her."
I run to the door. One of the guys springs to grab me, but I spin past him. I'm almost there but an arm takes me around the waist and lifts me clean off my feet. Oliver throws me to the ground and the penny goes scattering across the room, lost somewhere in the dust and shadows.
A bag goes over my head and I'm lifted up again.
"We'll take her." Oliver says. "She might be of use to the cause."
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[WP] You discover you can travel in time, but only if you have a coin with the date of your destination. While exploring 1780's england, you lose your 2017 penny that's your ticket home.
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It was in 1780 when I was rifling though my pockets wondering what the hell I would do now when a version of myself appeared in front of me. "Oh hey past me" he said, "here's the coin you need; I brought two this time." I almost dropped the flick of bronze which passed between us. "By the way, when you get back, do remember to do this as soon as possible even though I know you won't because I procrastinated it off for 6 months and only just remembered it now...er well I guess I'll be off, this is really weird and I'm trying really hard not go off script even though I seem to be doing it perfectly anyway and sorry I can't take this anymore I'm done." And then I disappeared from the street leaving myself on the street.
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2017 penny? Check. Secure in a case on a chain bracelet around my wrist.
'1780s noble woman's costume' purchased off amazon? Check. Wearing it. It’s a poofy dress with flower print. I practice a curtsy in the mirror, "lady Blanche of Devonshire. Pleased to meet you. Yes, Duke William is my elder brother, have you made his acquaintance? Oh you have? You didn't know he had a sister named Blanche? Well I'm glad you rid you of that ignorance, now be gone from my sight."
Fake jewelry that's good enough to fool people of the time? Check. I’m up to my ears in fake gold and pearls.
.45 caliber Springfield semi-automatic pistol, 12-shot clip? Check. Strapped to my hip, over the corset.
Secondary clip? Check.
Forgetting anything? I don't think so.
Time to hit the tavern and have some fun. I open the closet door and take a deep breath. The trip is always... Well, it's a trip all right.
My heart starts thumping in my chest, and I wipe my sweaty palms on my cheap costume. This is why I do it, after all. For the unholy thrill of it. The danger, the unknown. I've taken five trips now, about to make it six. Some have been long, multi-day adventures, others have been wild and short. They've all been close calls in some way or another. I always come back thinking "nope, no, that's it, never again." I mean it each time, too. I promise myself. But when Thursday rolls around, and I’m in the cubicle, ticking away the hours of another pointless week... Well, that's when I know that the last promise was a lie. And I’ll lie again, I know, if I make it back.
I hold the 1780's penny in my left palm and step through. I'm falling, spinning, hurling though dark cold air that crackles like static. Can't breathe. It stings my skin; it burns. It’s unbearable, then it's over and I'm curled up under a pile of burlap.
I hear men conversing in low whispers around me. It smells moldy and damp. Damn trip never drops you in the same place twice. Last time I went to 18th century England I wound up in Buckingham palace dressed like a cabbage farmer! This time I'm in a goddamn cellar dressed like the duchess of Devonshire. Shit. Oh well. I unclip my pistol in its holster and wait. This will be interesting.
"Where's Oliver?" One of them asks.
"He'll be here." Another says. They sound nervous.
"He's late."
"He'll be here!" The guy growls.
“I don’t trust him.”
“Okay. Well how exactly do you propose we proceed without him? Hmm? Know a lot of palace guards loyal to our cause?”
The other man stays quiet.
Very quietly I tug on a corner of the potato sack, uncovering one eye. We're in a basement. It's dimly lit by a few oil lamps. I can see one of their faces and the other's back. I'm in the corner, hidden by shadows and empty sacks.
I'm content waiting it out, seeing what happens, then suddenly a dark shadow darts across the floor towards me. It's a rat! Rat. Rat. Rat. I hate rats. Hate them more than anything. I tense up. The disgusting thing keeps darting towards me, running along the edge where the floor meets the wall. Shit. No god, don't come--
Here! It's here! It's scurrying about in the sacks. I can feel it below me. Oh god it touched my ankle! The thought of it getting up my dress crosses my mind and I just lose it. I scream and thrash and kick wildly, then I tumble out from the potato sacks, drawing my pistol.
"Hold it!" I shout, leveling the massive gun at the two guys, but I was slow and they are armed. They both have muzzle loaded flintlocks pointed back at me.
"What in tarnation?" Says one guy.
"Who are you and where in the hell did you come from?" Says the other. He was the guy who had his back turned to me before. His face was partially hidden by shadow and smeared with dirt, but he had sapphire blue eyes that glinted in the dim oil-flame light.
I alternate my aim from one to the other. "I had fallen asleep--" I start the first explanation that comes to mind. Their brows furrow and I realize that I'm not using the accent that I practiced. Damn, I'm messing this up worse than my first time!
As though on cue, a third man appears in the dark shadow of the doorway. He freezes, then draws a pistol. The steel glints as he extends it into the room and points it at me. He stays in the shadows. Shit. Three on one.
I lower the gun. "Gents," I say, using the accent, "I fled down to the cellars--"
"Quiet." Says the man in the doorway. The other two look back, they hadn't noticed him.
"Oliver." Says one. "She came out of nowhere."
It's quiet for a moment. I unclip the case with my left hand and take the penny into my palm. All I need to do is walk through that doorway with my eyes closed and mind focused and it should work.
"Put down the pistol and walk forward." Oliver says. "Slowly." His voice is distantly familiar.
I do as he says. My legs are trembling. I have the penny palmed. I could dash for the door.
"It's her." He says as I approach the lamp. He steps forward. I recognize him from my first trip. He was a guard in Buckingham who chased me when I got caught. He saw my disappear through a doorway. "The one I told you lot about. It's her."
I run to the door. One of the guys springs to grab me, but I spin past him. I'm almost there but an arm takes me around the waist and lifts me clean off my feet. Oliver throws me to the ground and the penny goes scattering across the room, lost somewhere in the dust and shadows.
A bag goes over my head and I'm lifted up again.
"We'll take her." Oliver says. "She might be of use to the cause."
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[WP] You discover you can travel in time, but only if you have a coin with the date of your destination. While exploring 1780's england, you lose your 2017 penny that's your ticket home.
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Entry 1:
I have many coins in this bag.
I have coins from the 1700s, when I’ve often found myself checking in on famous people, in fact I was coming here to see the brothers Montgolfier again, I had travelled to the 1780s several times, each time refining my advice to help them – and believe me they needed help – to get their big idea in the air, off the ground in more ways than one.
But I always keep my 2017 penny in my jeans pocket, that little pocket that holds just about a coin or two. I always keep it there. But now it’s gone. It was there this morning, I swear.
But I have many coins in this bag.
Entry 2:
I can go somewhere good, make a life for myself. I realise now that there is no way back to 2017, but I can go to the 1900s, the 2000s, I even have one as recent as 2008.
But I’m not going to 2008. I can’t face the 21st century any more.
Yes, the people are more basic in the past, but they’re more genuine too. I keep asking myself, why should I ever go back there ? I can’t however, keep flipping about forever, this time travel takes it’s toll and I fear another half dozen trips would kill me, break my mind. We are not meant to move across ages, not at anything other than the normal one second per second speed anyway.
Entry 3:
I had three coins lined-up – points of interest, before I took the real plunge. The final step through the door of time to my new life.
First I took my farthing, The 1888 quarter-penny. And I went to Whitechapel, and on 9th November, at Millers court, I killed the man who would be forever known as Jack. He’d skinned poor Mary Kelly, but I took him out. I drugged him, and took him by cart to the thames. I threw him into that awful stench-ridden mud, and he simply sank to oblivion. Who he was I’ll never know, so apologies, I can’t enlighten you to his identity, although I can say he held a royal seal upon his doctor’s bag, that I can say for sure.
Next I took my trip to 1947 and made my way down to New Mexico. It was easy to procure a military uniform, and I made my way into the base. “Is it real?” I hear you ask, dear reader, and to that I say unequivocally yes, three visitors, all alive, terrified, and killed for the science. I had wanted to smuggle photos out with me, but security made it impossible and I had to leave as my cover story became increasingly scrutinized.
I took my final field-trip. Not too far geographically or chronologically, to that spot on the grassy knoll where I sat and watched the day the music died unfold before my eyes. There were three shooters, of this I am sure. And two of them wore US uniforms. One navy, one Army, both oblivious of each other. I filmed Oswald, and I can say without a shadow of a doubt, that he fired one shot, and missed. I can’t tell you which of the others took the killing shot. I was once again spotted, so decided it was time for the plunge.
I dip my hand into the bag, pull out one coin, a shilling, the one that will be my final chronological destination, and I flip.
Entry 4:
As I come-to again, in this new when, I look down at the coin in my hand, I smile, and hope I can make it to London. To Marylebone in particular. It is 1844, - 44 years before I will kill saucy Jack, 103 years before I will talk to alien life, and 119 years before one man’s head-shot will rattle right around the world. I have the 1990s schematics with me, I plan to tell the great man that we can usher in a new age together….
+++++++++What preceeds is widely agreed by the Metropolitan Police to be a hoax, it can be seen in the Metropolitan Police black museum where it has been stored for at least 70 years. The four entries were in a notebook purportedly found on the corpse of a man who was hit by a horse-drawn carriage on the Junction of Marylebone Road and Baker Street in July 1844. Curiously, the notebook has been dated to be from around that period, as is the ink. Two diagrams of Charles Babbage’s difference engine were taped to the back of the book, whilst they date from the same time, as the book and ink, the details in the images shows work not completed until 1991+++++++++
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With a flash and the pop of air displaced a dark hooded figure stepped onto the street before the parliament building. Pulling back the hood revealed a metallic mask, worn and beaten with the scars of times gone by and yet to come. Deliberate steps took it down the road passing by carriages and bystanders who looked much less out of place. With each step a small jingle of coin could be heard. Varkanus had been working on time travel for centuries, but it was only recently, in the future, the necromancer finally found the key. Good corpses could be hard to find, but with the eternity that is history, anything was now possible.
His own present year, 2017, was not a great era for good corpses for the undead. Modern weapons began to leave the flesh destroyed and unworkable, so here he came 1784. Just months after the Colonies that would become the United States of America had won their independence, Varkanus walked the streets of a country which he hated with an infernal Irish hatred.
One day this great country would fall, and his hand would crush the Queen.
The goal was to go as far back in time as possible, picking up the oldest coins he could find in each location and scout for the greatest specimen for his grand Army. This was his 17th leap in time, his first was to 1879 with the assistance of a coin he was able to scout via the wonders of modern technology, eBay. However England was not where he wished to be in this time. He needed to move across the European and Asian continents and back to the 6th century. Attila's Huns. They were footnotes in the records of his time, but they were known for their strength and sturdiness. It would be a long journey but Varkanus had, if nothing else, plenty of time.
In four months time, a treaty would be signed in France to end the 4th Anglo-Dutch war. Varkanus needed to be there. He intended to travel across the landmass via time travel, moving just a few years back and hundreds of miles with each blink. This way his travel time would be optimized.
With a thought to security, he reached to his coin purse, only to find it missing. Not only was he missing the coin to his own time, but also the 3 other coins he had accrued along the way. He spun around behind him to see a figure clad in the brown of a cow's hide duck down a street had had passed. Vakanus took chase. He was by no means a young man, but with the aid of magic his old and weary joints could at least keep pace with the young woman he was chasing. The young lady, evident by the flowing auburn hair which splayed in the wind behind her, ducked through a door on one of the dirty side streets. With calm deliberation, Varkanus stopped at the threshold of this building. It was nondescript just your average housing completely identical to the monotone, grey buildings it was surrounded by. Laying a hand on the wooden frame of the door, he pushed, a grey fog began to envelope him, completely hiding his form within the swirling mists. The wooden frame began to decay at an alarming rate, rotting from the inside out until it collapsed, opening a hole which he would then step through.
It was dark, all the candles in the house were extinguished to allow what sunlight the overcast sky could bring to seep through the home. Everything was drenched in this drab seemingly source-less light. However, he could feel it. The strong beat of life. She was still here, and scared. Slowly and methodically, the man stepped through the entryway, up the stairs to a bedroom above. As with the front door, the bedroom door crumbled to dust at his feet.
"I know you are here, lass" he whispered, his thick Irish accent evident even in the quiet tone. "Give it back to me and I may spare yer life."
Her vitals quickened; was she holding her breath so as to not be noticed? It made no real difference to him. Her hiding place in the closet was only too evident. Raising his hood and summoning up the mists of the dead to shroud his legs, he pulled open the closet door and came face to face with the woman. Shaking with the fear of death she held out the coin purse to him. Taking it in his hand he counted out the coins and found all accounted for.
"You led me on quite the chase young lady. Come, you shall be my prize." Taking up a coin, crafted with only the numbers 2001, he grasped her by the arm and they both vanished.
They both appeared in a small homemade forge in emptiness of Wyoming, USA. This forge was made very special, this was his staging ground. While the rest of the country was embroiled in hatred for the Middle East he had set up a forge and minted a single coin in this location to always be able to return. As he led her from the furnace room, the horror of her fate became all too evident. Lining the walls and shelves of what appeared to be an abandoned barn were freezers. Each one labeled with a year. Walking her down to an unlabeled freezer he opened the door, the cool mist of cold air mixing with the warm room air created the perfect ominous sight. All of the shelving had been removed making as much room as possible for the interior. Too scared to struggle he was able to push her into the fridge and close the door. On the floor next to the fridge was a lock, he retrieved it and pad locked the door shut. After labeling the door with 1784, he reached back into his purse and vanished again, leaving her to freeze to death as a future member of his undead army.
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[WP] You discover you can travel in time, but only if you have a coin with the date of your destination. While exploring 1780's england, you lose your 2017 penny that's your ticket home.
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England. As was to be expected, torrents of rain poured down from a dreary gray sky. I let out a long sigh as winter winds passed through me, glad the job was finally over. Though there wasn't much I had to return to.
Like every mission, this one was simple and boring. I had the fascinating task of copying some small town's census data before the records would be destroyed in a fire next week. I had the power to bend space and time, and here I was shivering in the middle of the woods, collecting data no one would ever care about except one eccentric historian. And even this assignment had barely been approved by the Regulatory Board. Last election season, some asshat senator had riled up hysteria about time travel to demonize the progressive party urging scientific experimentation. As a result, our funding was halved. Every major initiative was either cancelled or delayed indefinitely. It was November in my time, and I'd made a grand total of two trips all year.
"I can't believe someone would squander something with this much potential," I'd said to my boss as I geared up for this mission. Jen was an older lady, one of the scientists who'd pioneered the technology. She had a polite, reserved manner, but I could tell she was just as frustrated as I was. And I was too tired to care what she thought of me at the moment.
Jen didn't respond immediately. She was busy with the device. It was more streamlined than the older models, but still a bit bulky - I had to carry it in a briefcase, which I would hide once I arrived in the new time period. Jen finished tinkering and handed it to me.
"I agree," she muttered. "Time travel was meant for much more."
But at least the mission was over now. I'd return home to a meager paycheck and the half bottle of whiskey left in my fridge, falling asleep to distant memories of how excited I'd been when I landed this job. I reached into my pocket for my key the artifact I would use to get home: a penny from 2017.
My hand grasped empty fabric. The pocket was empty.
I frowned and spun around in a circle, scanning the ground for a glint of copper. Nothing. My mind raced. I had landed in the woods just outside the village, in a thicket of trees where no one would see me materialize out of thin air. Then I'd headed straight to town. Would I really have to go digging through the woods to get home? What I'd dropped it in the street and a townsperson had picked it up? They could've carried it to the next town by now.
I stared down at the device helplessly. The screen was dark and dead; without the coin, there was no use for it. But there was something off about it I hadn't noticed when I departed. A thin seam ran along the edge of the top half of the case. My eyes darted to the corner and found a zipper.
I tugged it open. Inside was a pouch. It was small, but surprisingly heavy. - because it was full of coins. 1960, 1880, the Roman Empire, feudal Japan. Revolutionary France, ancient China, the Aztecs, and dozens more I couldn't even recognize. I could go anywhere with them.
I remembered Jen's last words to me. "Time travel was meant for much more."
2017 could wait. It was time to set my imagination free.
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"*Shit*," I whispered furiously, digging and sweeping my hand through the itchy horsehair trousers I'd managed to acquire. Surely that coin had to be in h--- There was a hole in the 'pocket' of these trousers.
I slowly poked my finger through like a teenage boy on prom night, even with the same thunderstruck expression on my face.
"No," I whispered... "I can never go all the way home again.. Fuck me.."
I was already fucked though.
I had coins from 1922.. to 1836.. to 1969.. to 2001.. to 2011.. to 2016.. But that had been the only coin that truly mattered, I realized now. My 2017 penny. I felt like maybe this was nature's way of preventing this wonderful travel I'd stumbled upon. For this to happen while I was being pursued by murderous bandits would just be cruel fate otherwise.
An arrow smashed into the tree inches from my head and I screamed as splinters sprayed into my eyes. I screamed wordlessly, in agony and fear and rage. I felt the slipstream of another arrow waft and wash against my cheek..
Desperately my fingers were fumbling in the other horsehair 'pocket'. For any coin, any year but this one.. Hopefully near medical condition. I felt a coin slide against my fingers and my heartrate jacked as I groped further for it. Yes, there it w--!
Blinding pain shot through my entire body as what could be none other than a third arrow ripped through my shoulder before embedding itself into the bone there.. I collapsed to my knees, sobbing and screaming uncontrollably.
*The ccccoin*... my ravaged mind stuttered glitchily. *Must.. Bring it to lips.. Whisper.. say The Words..*
My right arm dangled uselessly so I awkwardly took the coin from that numb hand, with my left hand. I brought it to my trembling lips.
"*Klaatu berada nikto*."
I went back to screaming in agony as I was whisked away to whatever year.
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[WP] You discover you can travel in time, but only if you have a coin with the date of your destination. While exploring 1780's england, you lose your 2017 penny that's your ticket home.
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1786, a fun year for drinking and merrymaking, though it's time to go home. November 2017. Wait, where is my penny.....shit?!
Well how do I get home?
What is the closest coin I have?
British 50p from 2014, that'll do.
I hold it in my hand and say the words, it's new years eve 2014. I live my life and on January 22nd I find my first 2015 coin. I say the words again and it's once again December 31st...2015.
Well I am glad this works.
It takes about another 2 months in my timeframe to get home. What can I say, I learned my lesson, but it could be worse.
My fellow travellers, my advice if you do find yourself stranded is to become a street beggar, it doesn't take long for a newly minted coin to drop in your cup. If you remember a beggar in Portsmouth UK in 2015 and 2016, it was probably me. I must admit picking a familiar city has it's downsides, seeing 27 year old me wonder past was surreal.
I only had three years to make up but even in that timeframe it took me a while. Good luck, and I hope this helps.
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"*Shit*," I whispered furiously, digging and sweeping my hand through the itchy horsehair trousers I'd managed to acquire. Surely that coin had to be in h--- There was a hole in the 'pocket' of these trousers.
I slowly poked my finger through like a teenage boy on prom night, even with the same thunderstruck expression on my face.
"No," I whispered... "I can never go all the way home again.. Fuck me.."
I was already fucked though.
I had coins from 1922.. to 1836.. to 1969.. to 2001.. to 2011.. to 2016.. But that had been the only coin that truly mattered, I realized now. My 2017 penny. I felt like maybe this was nature's way of preventing this wonderful travel I'd stumbled upon. For this to happen while I was being pursued by murderous bandits would just be cruel fate otherwise.
An arrow smashed into the tree inches from my head and I screamed as splinters sprayed into my eyes. I screamed wordlessly, in agony and fear and rage. I felt the slipstream of another arrow waft and wash against my cheek..
Desperately my fingers were fumbling in the other horsehair 'pocket'. For any coin, any year but this one.. Hopefully near medical condition. I felt a coin slide against my fingers and my heartrate jacked as I groped further for it. Yes, there it w--!
Blinding pain shot through my entire body as what could be none other than a third arrow ripped through my shoulder before embedding itself into the bone there.. I collapsed to my knees, sobbing and screaming uncontrollably.
*The ccccoin*... my ravaged mind stuttered glitchily. *Must.. Bring it to lips.. Whisper.. say The Words..*
My right arm dangled uselessly so I awkwardly took the coin from that numb hand, with my left hand. I brought it to my trembling lips.
"*Klaatu berada nikto*."
I went back to screaming in agony as I was whisked away to whatever year.
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[WP] You discover you can travel in time, but only if you have a coin with the date of your destination. While exploring 1780's england, you lose your 2017 penny that's your ticket home.
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Father left it to me to persuade Grandma – “You’re the only one patient enough for that mule,” he said, before he left with the last few carts of produce for the market in the next town. “We’re leaving next week, with or without her.”
I found Grandma at the edge of the field, near the fence which marked the extent of Father’s wealth. The crops had just been harvested the day before, and sunlight glinted off stray stalks of wheat twisting in the wind. She had her head down, and she was looking intently at the leather pouch in her hands, turning it over, loosening and then re-drawing the tie-strings. She barely looked up when I called to her.
“Grandma,” I said. “Please don’t be stubborn. The farm’s been sold, there’s no turning back from that. Father’s already found housing for us in the city. If we don’t go, there’s nowhere here for us to stay.”
“I can’t go, Robyn”, she said. “I’ve said as much. This is the only place where he can find me. If I go to the city, and he returns…”
I leaned on the fence, closed my eyes, felt the breeze on my face. The thought that this time next week I would be squeezed together with a thousand other humans made my stomach turn, but the difference between me and Grandma was, I knew how to roll with the punches. Times were a-changing, and soon there would be no more farms, just endless cities of steam and steel.
“You have to think of it this way, Grandma,” I said. “No one’s doubting that Grandpa loved you. But things happen at sea. Maybe… maybe he’s stuck at a port, somewhere across the ocean, and the captain’s run out of gold to bring them back. Maybe he wants to return, but he cannot, and never will. I too wish he would come back, but it’s been… thirty years? Or more? Maybe…”
“He wasn’t a sailor, Robyn,” Grandma said. “I never told you or your father the whole truth. Your Grandpa was a traveller, that’s for sure, just not the kind of sailor that we know.”
“What do you mean?”
Grandma sighed, then sat down, back to the fence. I followed suit, next to her, and she held my hand in hers. There was so much raw pain in her voice that I was worried she would burst in tears.
“I was a young girl then, not much older than you are now. I met your Grandpa at the tavern. I was wiping down the tables, serving up the mead, when your Grandpa stumbled in. Everyone didn’t pay much notice at first, but his clothing, his speech… we couldn’t tell if he was a nobleman waylaid from a fancy dress party, or a madman from the asylum. But he had good coin, and he paid in advance for a whole month’s board. No one argues with money like that.
“I got to know him better and better. He may have kept to himself, but someone had to bring him his meals. He was a bright man, your Grandpa. Quirky, weird, but intelligent. He had all these books with him, and he would scribble in them incessantly. He said he was a scholar, here to study our town. I said be my guest! We plant wheat, we drink mead, and after dark we sow our seeds! He just laughed, and asked if I was keen to learn with him. I had nothing better to pass the time, and so I agreed.
“We passed the weeks like that, Robyn. A couple of days in the inn, then he would disappear for a week or so, then he would return. Always with more books, more notes, more writings. And in that time, at which point did your Grandpa cross from being a guest in the tavern to a squatter in my heart? I cannot say. I was young, and he was kind to me, much more so than the boys around here. The day I went to him, told him I was carrying your father, I expected him to cast me out, but instead he took me into his arms, laughed and said that had helped him decide once and for all to stay.
“He explained it to me then, but I confess, I did not understand half of it. He said he could travel through time, that he came from the future. He said that he had been deliberating about the end of his assignment, since it meant that he had to leave, for good, and he no longer wanted to. He wanted to stay, in this small town of ours, with me, with our child. He said he did not give a damn if it broke the rules, that was what he was going to do.
“He had me bring him to the deepest swamp around these parts. Once there, we stood at the edge, and he threw a gleaming disc of silver right into the middle of that bog. I thought he was throwing away good money. But your Grandpa said that was how determined he was that he was going to stay with me. He said it was a coin from his time, and that he had used it to travel between then and now, and without it he would be forced to stay here forever. I had your Grandpa, what more did I need? Certainly not answers.
“But that didn’t stop them. One night, I awoke to find the whole house shaking. Men broke in, dressed in the same awkward fashions your Grandpa cast himself in when he first arrived. They dragged him screaming from the house, and they disappeared in the fields, in a flash of blue light. I couldn’t catch up, I was heavy with your father then.
“Who would believe me? That bandits had kidnapped your Grandpa? And so I told everyone he had left to be a sailor, that he would return, and here I have waited, till this day.”
Grandma was quiet for a spell, and I searched frantically for the words to fill that silence. I settled for questioning the contents of the pouch, instead of the soundness of her mind.
“Oh, this?” she said. “I found this amongst your father’s books. It was from his time. There was a note there, you can see it yourself.”
She opened the pouch, poured out the contents into my cupped hands. I saw the note, folded in half, the creases about to split. I also saw a rectangular… glass, or crystal, coated white on one side, black on the other. It was thin, and I thought it brittle, but it was surprisingly study and resilient. There were chips at the edges, no doubt where Grandma had tapped on it over the years.
“What is this?” I asked.
“The note is the key, Robyn. He left instructions on how to use the glass. And I did. Alone, crying, wondering what my next step would be, I followed his instructions. The glass came to life, it did. And your Grandpa’s face was there, moving, and in his voice, the glass told me that if ever he was abducted, that I had to be patient. He would do everything in his power to return to me.”
“Can I see that?” I asked. “Can you… do the same thing you did to the glass?”
“I cannot,” Grandma said. “I watched his essence speak to me for a hundred times, back to back. Witchcraft, it was. But then it went dark, and it never worked again after that. This is all I have left. The only proof that your Grandpa ever existed.”
I handed back the pouch to her, and she tied it back up, slipped it into her pockets.
“What will you do, Grandma?” I asked. “You cannot stay here. There will be no place for you here.”
Grandma smiled, then kissed me on the forehead, hugged me tight.
“I’ll be fine, Robyn. After all, there’s never been a place for me since your Grandpa left.”
---
/r/rarelyfunny
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"*Shit*," I whispered furiously, digging and sweeping my hand through the itchy horsehair trousers I'd managed to acquire. Surely that coin had to be in h--- There was a hole in the 'pocket' of these trousers.
I slowly poked my finger through like a teenage boy on prom night, even with the same thunderstruck expression on my face.
"No," I whispered... "I can never go all the way home again.. Fuck me.."
I was already fucked though.
I had coins from 1922.. to 1836.. to 1969.. to 2001.. to 2011.. to 2016.. But that had been the only coin that truly mattered, I realized now. My 2017 penny. I felt like maybe this was nature's way of preventing this wonderful travel I'd stumbled upon. For this to happen while I was being pursued by murderous bandits would just be cruel fate otherwise.
An arrow smashed into the tree inches from my head and I screamed as splinters sprayed into my eyes. I screamed wordlessly, in agony and fear and rage. I felt the slipstream of another arrow waft and wash against my cheek..
Desperately my fingers were fumbling in the other horsehair 'pocket'. For any coin, any year but this one.. Hopefully near medical condition. I felt a coin slide against my fingers and my heartrate jacked as I groped further for it. Yes, there it w--!
Blinding pain shot through my entire body as what could be none other than a third arrow ripped through my shoulder before embedding itself into the bone there.. I collapsed to my knees, sobbing and screaming uncontrollably.
*The ccccoin*... my ravaged mind stuttered glitchily. *Must.. Bring it to lips.. Whisper.. say The Words..*
My right arm dangled uselessly so I awkwardly took the coin from that numb hand, with my left hand. I brought it to my trembling lips.
"*Klaatu berada nikto*."
I went back to screaming in agony as I was whisked away to whatever year.
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[WP] You discover you can travel in time, but only if you have a coin with the date of your destination. While exploring 1780's england, you lose your 2017 penny that's your ticket home.
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I came to on the cobblestone street. A passing cart sprayed me with water and I rolled out of the way.
“Out of the way, peasant!” the driver yelled behind him.
I flipped him off and caught my breath, leaning against the bank’s wall in the alleyway. My Groupon purchase of a 1780 coin wasn’t paying off so far; I had been splashed awake and yelled at by some shitty merchant.
I thought about turning back right then and there. The rules were simple: squeeze a coin tightly between your hands and think, and you transport to the time and location that coin was created. That’s how I ended up in the heart of London, 1780.
I fumbled in my pocket for the 2017 penny to ride home. My fingers only found lint. I checked the pocket in my V-neck, but no luck. Just a card with the phone number of Stacy from the Shake Shack downtown. The penny must have fallen out on the street when I landed.
I sprinted back into the road, searching on my hands and knees. The horses had pounded manure and sludge into the cracks, but I had no choice. I scratched through the muck in circles around me.
“C’mon, c’mon, where are you?”
I felt an impact on my back-side and fell to the ground. “I told you to get out of the street, peasant!” It was the merchant from before. I stood up and faced him. He back-handed me across the face, leaving a stinging welt. That was it.
I grabbed him and threw him into the mud. He yelped and reached up to grab me but I snatched his arm across my body and snapped it. He wailed in pain. “Un-hand me, commoner!”
I stepped off of him and saw policemen running down the street towards us. Shit, this was not going to end well. It looked like my tour of 1780 was going to include a prison visit.
Then a bearded man in a ponytail appeared with a THUD next to me on the street. He was wearing a Grateful Dead t-shirt and no shoes. I seized my opportunity and rifled through his pockets, coming up with a heavy silver coin. 1973, close enough.
I squeezed the coin with all my might...and woke up in a dark facility. The vault read: “Fort Knox Secure Facility.”
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"*Shit*," I whispered furiously, digging and sweeping my hand through the itchy horsehair trousers I'd managed to acquire. Surely that coin had to be in h--- There was a hole in the 'pocket' of these trousers.
I slowly poked my finger through like a teenage boy on prom night, even with the same thunderstruck expression on my face.
"No," I whispered... "I can never go all the way home again.. Fuck me.."
I was already fucked though.
I had coins from 1922.. to 1836.. to 1969.. to 2001.. to 2011.. to 2016.. But that had been the only coin that truly mattered, I realized now. My 2017 penny. I felt like maybe this was nature's way of preventing this wonderful travel I'd stumbled upon. For this to happen while I was being pursued by murderous bandits would just be cruel fate otherwise.
An arrow smashed into the tree inches from my head and I screamed as splinters sprayed into my eyes. I screamed wordlessly, in agony and fear and rage. I felt the slipstream of another arrow waft and wash against my cheek..
Desperately my fingers were fumbling in the other horsehair 'pocket'. For any coin, any year but this one.. Hopefully near medical condition. I felt a coin slide against my fingers and my heartrate jacked as I groped further for it. Yes, there it w--!
Blinding pain shot through my entire body as what could be none other than a third arrow ripped through my shoulder before embedding itself into the bone there.. I collapsed to my knees, sobbing and screaming uncontrollably.
*The ccccoin*... my ravaged mind stuttered glitchily. *Must.. Bring it to lips.. Whisper.. say The Words..*
My right arm dangled uselessly so I awkwardly took the coin from that numb hand, with my left hand. I brought it to my trembling lips.
"*Klaatu berada nikto*."
I went back to screaming in agony as I was whisked away to whatever year.
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[WP] You discover you can travel in time, but only if you have a coin with the date of your destination. While exploring 1780's england, you lose your 2017 penny that's your ticket home.
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Father left it to me to persuade Grandma – “You’re the only one patient enough for that mule,” he said, before he left with the last few carts of produce for the market in the next town. “We’re leaving next week, with or without her.”
I found Grandma at the edge of the field, near the fence which marked the extent of Father’s wealth. The crops had just been harvested the day before, and sunlight glinted off stray stalks of wheat twisting in the wind. She had her head down, and she was looking intently at the leather pouch in her hands, turning it over, loosening and then re-drawing the tie-strings. She barely looked up when I called to her.
“Grandma,” I said. “Please don’t be stubborn. The farm’s been sold, there’s no turning back from that. Father’s already found housing for us in the city. If we don’t go, there’s nowhere here for us to stay.”
“I can’t go, Robyn”, she said. “I’ve said as much. This is the only place where he can find me. If I go to the city, and he returns…”
I leaned on the fence, closed my eyes, felt the breeze on my face. The thought that this time next week I would be squeezed together with a thousand other humans made my stomach turn, but the difference between me and Grandma was, I knew how to roll with the punches. Times were a-changing, and soon there would be no more farms, just endless cities of steam and steel.
“You have to think of it this way, Grandma,” I said. “No one’s doubting that Grandpa loved you. But things happen at sea. Maybe… maybe he’s stuck at a port, somewhere across the ocean, and the captain’s run out of gold to bring them back. Maybe he wants to return, but he cannot, and never will. I too wish he would come back, but it’s been… thirty years? Or more? Maybe…”
“He wasn’t a sailor, Robyn,” Grandma said. “I never told you or your father the whole truth. Your Grandpa was a traveller, that’s for sure, just not the kind of sailor that we know.”
“What do you mean?”
Grandma sighed, then sat down, back to the fence. I followed suit, next to her, and she held my hand in hers. There was so much raw pain in her voice that I was worried she would burst in tears.
“I was a young girl then, not much older than you are now. I met your Grandpa at the tavern. I was wiping down the tables, serving up the mead, when your Grandpa stumbled in. Everyone didn’t pay much notice at first, but his clothing, his speech… we couldn’t tell if he was a nobleman waylaid from a fancy dress party, or a madman from the asylum. But he had good coin, and he paid in advance for a whole month’s board. No one argues with money like that.
“I got to know him better and better. He may have kept to himself, but someone had to bring him his meals. He was a bright man, your Grandpa. Quirky, weird, but intelligent. He had all these books with him, and he would scribble in them incessantly. He said he was a scholar, here to study our town. I said be my guest! We plant wheat, we drink mead, and after dark we sow our seeds! He just laughed, and asked if I was keen to learn with him. I had nothing better to pass the time, and so I agreed.
“We passed the weeks like that, Robyn. A couple of days in the inn, then he would disappear for a week or so, then he would return. Always with more books, more notes, more writings. And in that time, at which point did your Grandpa cross from being a guest in the tavern to a squatter in my heart? I cannot say. I was young, and he was kind to me, much more so than the boys around here. The day I went to him, told him I was carrying your father, I expected him to cast me out, but instead he took me into his arms, laughed and said that had helped him decide once and for all to stay.
“He explained it to me then, but I confess, I did not understand half of it. He said he could travel through time, that he came from the future. He said that he had been deliberating about the end of his assignment, since it meant that he had to leave, for good, and he no longer wanted to. He wanted to stay, in this small town of ours, with me, with our child. He said he did not give a damn if it broke the rules, that was what he was going to do.
“He had me bring him to the deepest swamp around these parts. Once there, we stood at the edge, and he threw a gleaming disc of silver right into the middle of that bog. I thought he was throwing away good money. But your Grandpa said that was how determined he was that he was going to stay with me. He said it was a coin from his time, and that he had used it to travel between then and now, and without it he would be forced to stay here forever. I had your Grandpa, what more did I need? Certainly not answers.
“But that didn’t stop them. One night, I awoke to find the whole house shaking. Men broke in, dressed in the same awkward fashions your Grandpa cast himself in when he first arrived. They dragged him screaming from the house, and they disappeared in the fields, in a flash of blue light. I couldn’t catch up, I was heavy with your father then.
“Who would believe me? That bandits had kidnapped your Grandpa? And so I told everyone he had left to be a sailor, that he would return, and here I have waited, till this day.”
Grandma was quiet for a spell, and I searched frantically for the words to fill that silence. I settled for questioning the contents of the pouch, instead of the soundness of her mind.
“Oh, this?” she said. “I found this amongst your father’s books. It was from his time. There was a note there, you can see it yourself.”
She opened the pouch, poured out the contents into my cupped hands. I saw the note, folded in half, the creases about to split. I also saw a rectangular… glass, or crystal, coated white on one side, black on the other. It was thin, and I thought it brittle, but it was surprisingly study and resilient. There were chips at the edges, no doubt where Grandma had tapped on it over the years.
“What is this?” I asked.
“The note is the key, Robyn. He left instructions on how to use the glass. And I did. Alone, crying, wondering what my next step would be, I followed his instructions. The glass came to life, it did. And your Grandpa’s face was there, moving, and in his voice, the glass told me that if ever he was abducted, that I had to be patient. He would do everything in his power to return to me.”
“Can I see that?” I asked. “Can you… do the same thing you did to the glass?”
“I cannot,” Grandma said. “I watched his essence speak to me for a hundred times, back to back. Witchcraft, it was. But then it went dark, and it never worked again after that. This is all I have left. The only proof that your Grandpa ever existed.”
I handed back the pouch to her, and she tied it back up, slipped it into her pockets.
“What will you do, Grandma?” I asked. “You cannot stay here. There will be no place for you here.”
Grandma smiled, then kissed me on the forehead, hugged me tight.
“I’ll be fine, Robyn. After all, there’s never been a place for me since your Grandpa left.”
---
/r/rarelyfunny
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1786, a fun year for drinking and merrymaking, though it's time to go home. November 2017. Wait, where is my penny.....shit?!
Well how do I get home?
What is the closest coin I have?
British 50p from 2014, that'll do.
I hold it in my hand and say the words, it's new years eve 2014. I live my life and on January 22nd I find my first 2015 coin. I say the words again and it's once again December 31st...2015.
Well I am glad this works.
It takes about another 2 months in my timeframe to get home. What can I say, I learned my lesson, but it could be worse.
My fellow travellers, my advice if you do find yourself stranded is to become a street beggar, it doesn't take long for a newly minted coin to drop in your cup. If you remember a beggar in Portsmouth UK in 2015 and 2016, it was probably me. I must admit picking a familiar city has it's downsides, seeing 27 year old me wonder past was surreal.
I only had three years to make up but even in that timeframe it took me a while. Good luck, and I hope this helps.
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I'm sorry if this has already been done, I'm new to Reddit! I love reading writing prompts and kinda want to write for one eventually😁
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[WP] Everyone is born with a number on their hand. This number can represent anything from the number of steps that they'll walk in their lifetime to how many burgers they'll eat. You're born with a zero.
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"Seriously?" I asked in disbelief.
"Yep." Randy the soothesayer replied. "That there zero is the number of people that will ever love you."
"What about my parents?" I questioned.
" Zero." Randy answered.
"My friends?"
"Ze-her-oh." Randy sounded out impatiently.
"My girlfri-" I attempted to implore.
"Zero!" Randy interrupted. "Dude, nobody loves you. The answer will always be zero."
Sitting back in the cheap retail folding chair I slumped my shoulders as Randy glanced me over with a look of relative pity. Everything in my life suddenly made sense as I thought back on all of the stale words of forced concern from my family. How my friends never really seemed to care as much for me. And how my girlfriend was always finding reasons to cancel on our plans.
"Wh- what do I do now?" I wondered aloud.
"Buddy." Randy started. "This a blessing as much as it is a curse."
"How?" I muttered lightly as my head fell into my hands. Tears nearly breaking forth from my eyes.
"No one can bullshit you." Randy explained. "You know that nobody loves you. Yeah, that sucks. On the bright side you *know* that nobody loves you." He emphasized with a wink. "Your never gonna get the wool pulled over your eyes again."
As I mopped in self pity I could feel that his words actually carried some weight. With a sullen look about me I glanced up at him and realized he was right. It sucks that my life has been a lie but there's a certain comfort in knowing that. If the number had been a two or a three I'd have to guess who in my life or would be in my life actually loved me and who was just faking it. This way I at least have a concrete answer. No question and zero doubt, I knew a solid undeniable fact about my life.
In a spur of adrenaline I whipped my phone out of my pocket and called my girlfriend Claire. She picked up after four rings. "What?" She said with only the slightest tone of compassion that only came across as mockery now.
"Nothing much." I assured her. "But we need to break it off. It's not you, it's me, literally. I'll grab my stuff from the apartment later. Buh-bye." And then U abruptly hung up. After a ten second silence in which she didn't attempt to contact me back I let out a sigh of relief.
"Feel better?" Randy asked with an amused smile. Not a cruel kind of smile, but one of genuine respect.
"Yeah." I replied blankly, still adjusting to my rash decision. "I really sort of do feel a lot better."
"Blessing and a curse." Randy replied.
Not breaking stride I then called my mother with my cell next. First call to voicemail. Second rang three times before a pickup. "Yes?" Answered my mother with what I now recognized as a oaridt of actual love.
"Fuck you." I declared. "I worked two jobs over the summers and full time during college because you said working to pay for college myself would make a better man. But you just didn't care enough to actually help me with my education. You even pressured me into living on my own and paying my own bills! I didn't get to enjoy my four years of college in the slightest because you uncaring bastards didn't want to bother with me!" By this point I was pretty much yelling. "You didn't even remember to invite me back home for thanksgiving in my senior year! And top it all off you payed for Jason's college in full! So fuck you!"
And then I abruptly hung up the phone. She tried to call me back twice but stopped after I ignored both calls.
"Whoa." Randy whistled. "Lots of pent up aggression in that one."
"Yeah." I huffed. "Always blamed for stuff growing up and they always took my brothers side. Thought it was just in my head until now."
"Kind of nice to know right?" Randy laughed, getting a kick out of my change of character.
"Yeah." I huffed again.
My eyes suddenly went wide with shock as I glanced down at the back of my hand. A chill ran up my spine as I stared at my number a ng d a cold sweat broke out across my pores. I could feel the skin of my face growing pale.
"What's going on? Realization just set in?" Randy inquired, still seemingly amused.
"I- is it- is possible for a number to- well- change?" I asked evenly with a stuttered voice.
"Yeah, in some cases. Numbers have been known to go up or down. Anything from zero to infinity. Sometimes Destiny isn't set in stone but don't get your hopes up." Randy explained with a hint if pity.
"Uh- yeah." I responded. "Any ever go lower than that?" I asked as I regained some of my composure.
Randy looked over at my hand and reacted in the same as way I did, face going pale and lifeless as he gripped the table with bony hands. His entire joyful demeanor fell apart as he glared at the negative one engraved beneath my knuckles.
"No." Randy replied sullenly. "Never lower."
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It’s a question that plagued me every day. Ever since I could grasp the concept of what the numbers meant. Everyone was born with a small set of numbers on the inside of their right wrist. The writing was perfect on all them as if created by a machine. It didn’t people long to figure out we were connected to that number. When that number is met we no longer exist.
My mother had the number 6 on her wrist. It stood for her 6 children. We know now because she died giving birth to me her sixth. I was her number. I was her limit. It is tough to think about.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
A message from my partner James. “Good Luck at your interview today.”
Oh yeah I have a huge job interview today. My first interview ever for my dream job where I would be working with penguins. That is what set me off. It’s what made me begin to think about my number so much? The number emblazoned on my arm was 0.
I had never known what it meant. It could mean anything really. I’ve always assumed it means that whatever does kill me in the universe it will happen before I can even complete my first attempt.
When I was 12 I stayed up late on the internet looking to see if there were others like me. To my surprise I found entire message boards filled with the “null” as we called ourselves. There were many theories about what our numbers meant and if they were any different than the normal. Most shared the same thoughts as me. Others had wild beliefs about what the 0 meant. Often times getting consumed by the lore that we were un-killable. Somedays I wish I could be like them.
So here I am sitting in front of my window staring down into the streets below. Overwhelmed with anxiety as I am whenever I try anything new. Sometimes though, I feel like the normals have it worse than we do. Once I have gotten over my fear and crippling anxiety and tried something I know longer live in fear of that thing. It’s time for me to make a choice. I only have a few minutes left to leave and still get there on time.
I looked over at the door. Could this be it could this be the last time I walk out of my house. I take a deep breath and pull myself up from the chair. The blood began to move much quicker within my veins. I began to feel light headed. Maybe this was a bad idea? Maybe I shouldn’t do this.
My foot took a step closer to the door. Then my other followed.
I can do this. I have nothing to fear.
My hand reached out for the door knob. I paused. I took one last moment to weigh all the possibilities.
I turned the nob and stepped into the crisp winter air.
“Goodbye house” I whispered
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[WP] By an odd accident your toddlers crayon scribbles turn out to be the exact runes needed to summon a demon to this world, who will obey the summoners every command. Unfortunately, your toddler only knows 5 words.
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The demon had been living with Darnell and his family for about three weeks. He wasn't exactly opposed to it, but after a while cleaning up his red embers, it got to be annoying. Though, Darnell knew he shouldn't complain as the demon was taking care of his toddler as both he and his wife had full-time jobs to attend to. He couldn't take a month off to care for the little munchkin and Eliza certainly couldn't do much now that the height of wedding season was upon them.
It was a lucky coincidence that his daughter was able to summon this demon, he thought to himself on the commute home from work. If it weren't for her crayon siblings, they'd be making half the income. Darnell and Eliza had tried swapping sick days, three days here for him, two for her, the weekend, and then switch, but it never worked out. A big project landed in his hands or a specific client needed just an extra little bit of attention. No matter what, little Cynthia was proving to be a big handful. That was until Qarth'waxynu appeared in the foyer one day, as Cynthia finished scribbling her inadvertent demon summoning ritual. Darnell was quite shocked to see the six-foot-six red-embered demon with wings stretching against the walls of his hallway staring down at his child. He picked her up and in an instant, Qarth'waxynu explained that he had been summoned by Cynthia, and there to obey her every command. Cynthia knew no more than five words three weeks ago.
So yes, it was lucky that Qarth'waxynu was summoned when he was, though Darnell and Eliza still never fully understood how it happened, they accepted him with open arms. Acting as Cynthia's translator, Darnell explained that she was commanding him to feed, bath, clean, and shelter her while they were gone. To teach her how to be a human. A hard task for a demon, but Qarth'waxynu stepped right up. And so it had been like that for the last three weeks, Darnell had wondered how long it would stay.
He dropped his suitcase against the foyer and placed his hat and jacket on the rack. The slight tapping of feet against hardwood jolted his attention to the hallway entrance, where Cynthia, wrapped in a black and red cloth, was running down (something that Qarth'waxynu had taught her). "Dada!"
He smiled, then said, "Munchkin." He opened his arms and knelt towards the ground as Cynthia fell into him. He lifted her up and as always, Qarth'waxynu was standing there. His wings were tucked neatly behind him and he wore a white apron, burnt black at the edges, against his usual outfit. On the front, the apron read *Best Chef in Hell.* Darnell said, "How was she today?"
"She knows more than she lets on," the demon said. Darnell never got used to his voice, that was both raspy and soothing at the same time. "I have taught the munchkin three more words since dawn."
"We call it morning here, big guy," Darnell said, letting Cynthia rest in his arm as he patted Qarth'waxynu with his free hand. "Dinner?"
"The munchkin has been fed," he said, following behind. "I have prepared a meal for you and the Missus."
Darnell walked into the kitchen to find three place settings, along with Cynthia's high chair, at the table. Eliza was already at the island, a little ways from the table, drinking a glass of wine. Hell's finest, according to Qarth'waxynu. An excellent red brought up from Italy. In the first few days, Qarth'waxynu had believed Darnell and Eliza had summoned the demon, and tried to win their favor through gifts. Their apartment now had every favor he could muster from Hell.
"Did she say her new words?" Eliza said, placing a kiss on Darnell's cheek.
"She did not," he said and bounced Cynthia in his hands. "Did you learn a new word today, sweetie?"
"Free!" Cynthia explained, flailing her arms. "Free free free!"
Darnell smirked. "Interesting choice," he said and placed her down in the high chair. "Dinner looks lovely tonight, Q."
Qarth'waxynu nodded in the corner, moving the chair for both Eliza and Darnell. They took their seats, and a moment later the food was served. Qarth'waxynu sat in silence. Darnell explained his newest project at work. Arnold, down the hall, had just been laid off--something about him and offshore accounts--and so the executives gave Darnell the biggest project of the year. Eliza thought that was certainly the best decision they could make and told him (and Qarth'waxynu) about the new bride. A real bride from Hell, she said, smirking out the corner of her mouth. Qarth'waxynu said nothing.
Dinner continued. Qarth'waxynu fed Cynthia as Darnell and Eliza drank and ate and explained their days away. Eventually, they all crowded around to go to bed. Eliza and Darnell set Cynthia to bed and made sure Qarth'waxynu had enough amenities for his twenty-fifth consecutive night. "Almost a month now," Eliza said, "we've enjoyed it greatly."
They left him in the room, after he summoned his portal and received his daily rations. The two had to supervise this, as to make sure he kept his contract fulfilled. They went to bed afterwards. Darnell enjoyed a passionate night with his wife and around three hours later--awaking in a hot sweat--Darnell walked towards the kitchen to get a glass of water.
He passed by his daughters bed and heard whispers. Darnell leaned closer to the door, pushing it open just slightly so he could see inside.
"Say it with me dearie, Kha-arth-wax-e-nu," Qarth'waxynu said to Darnell's small toddler. "Free Qarth'waxynu."
"Free Kha!" Cynthia exclaimed, lifted her hands to the air.
Qarth'waxynu's head lowered. He took a few deep breaths, "You've got the first part, you just need to say the rest."
"Free Kha--freekha!---freeda!"
"No, no, not dada," Qarth'waxynu said, waving his hands in the air. "Free me! Free Qarth'waxynu."
"Free! Free!" Little Cynthia exclaimed. She jumped in her bed, flailing her arms. Darnell watched the whole thing, silently smiling to himself, before Qarth'waxynu took a deeper breath, which rattled his wings. They shot outwards and Cynthia laughed loudly. "Free! *Free!*"
"Yes, yes, little munchkin," Qarth'waxynu said. Darnell wasn't sure if he was smiling, but his voice was endearing enough. He liked Cynthia, Darnell was sure of it. "Free means fly."
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*Adored this prompt! Hope you liked my take. /r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs for more!*
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Jared!.... Jared! Jared wake up you lazy piece of shit! The man named Jared Mundy opened his eyes and jumped from the folding chair he was sleeping peacefully on just moments ago. "Wha.. why the fuck did you wake me up Randy, you better have a good darn reason!". "Why don't you take a look outside and see for yourself ". Jared rubbed his eyes and walked towards the office door. As soon as he opened the door he was met with a cold wind. Immediately he could feel the veins in his nose and ears shrink. "You've got to be kiddin''me, It's not even december yet". He pulled his US border patrol hat firmly over his ears and stepped outside. At first glance everything seemed fine, the fence he had been guarding for over 6 years was just as rusty as ever, and there were no mexicans in sight.
SLAM
A deafening rumble echoed through the wasteland.
Jared instinctively dropped to the ground, his ears ringing and his heart racing. "Did the wet-backs blow a hole in the fence again"? Fearing the worst, he looked up, and then looked back down, and back up again.
There was a wall. No really, there was a wall right in front of him.
Completely baffled, Jared pinched himself on the wrist, desperately wanting to wake up from this bizarre dream. He felt a small pain, incomparable to the pain in his ears, but it definitely was there. He was not dreaming, and there really was a wall where the fence used to be. Not only that, but there was someone standing ontop of it. Jared couldn't see the figure clearly, his eyes still being irritated by dust and sand and from having just woken up. The figure seemed to be oblivious to Jared's presence, or he simply didn't care. Either way, Jared slowly rubbed in his eyes again and blinked a few times, making sure not to make any noise. He could now see a lot more clearly. The thing that stood ontop of the brick wall was not human. It was atleast 3 foot taller than a adult man, with facial features that reminded Jared of a goat, and arms that seemed out of proportion with the rest of it's hairless black body.
General Kelly was walking through the hallway, making long strides in a steady rythm. Even though he just got a unnerving call from the defense department he maintained a calm and confident composure. As he approached the door to the Oval office he took a second to fully inhale and exhale, and then walked in. His employer was sitting on the floor, next to him was a sheet of paper and a few colored crayons. "Mr president, I just recieved information i must share with you"
"I know General, trust me, i know"" The president said, and smiled.
Only now General Kelly noticed the words that were written down on the paper.
WE NEED TO BUILD A WALL.
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[WP] By an odd accident your toddlers crayon scribbles turn out to be the exact runes needed to summon a demon to this world, who will obey the summoners every command. Unfortunately, your toddler only knows 5 words.
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The demon appeared out of thin air, surrounded by a puff of smoke. "MY NAME IS DRACONIUS EVERFLAME," he said, bowing deeply. "I PLEDGE ALLEGIANCE TO YOU, AND WILL CARRY OUT YOUR EVERY ORDER." He took a gander at the child. "YOU ARE FAR TINIER THAN THE OTHER HUMANS I HAVE SERVED, MY LADY."
She pointed at his face with a tiny little finger, and began to laugh.
Draconius took a step back. "MY FACE IS NOT FUNNY, TINY HUMAN. IT INSPIRES FEAR." He composed himself, and sat down. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?"
She giggled more ferociously, and said: "Eat candy!"
At this, the demon grinned widely. There was a loud *crack*, and a puff of black smoke. When it cleared, there sat her neighbor -- Candy Jones -- looking *very* confused. "I SHALL EAT THIS WOMAN FOR YOU, TINY HUMAN."
"No!" the toddler yelled, defiant. "CANDY!" She waddled into the kitchen and pointed to a Milky Way bar, just out of reach.
Draconius Everflame sighed.
There was another puff of black smoke, and then a pile of candy. Snickers, Starbursts, Milky Way -- everything a child could want! It was a downright smorgasbord, and the demon was quite pleased with himself. "SHALL I MAKE THE CANDY FLY AT HIGH VELOCITIES AND HIT PEOPLE IN THE FACE?"
"No. Eat candy." She squealed, and ran towards the pile. Tearing open the wrappers, she stuck them in her mouth, until melted chocolate was all over her face. Draconius Everflame reached for a 3 Musketeers --
"No!" she shrieked.
"NO?"
"*My* candy!" She grinned broadly, tore open another piece of candy, and replied mischievously: "You eat poo-poo."
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Jared!.... Jared! Jared wake up you lazy piece of shit! The man named Jared Mundy opened his eyes and jumped from the folding chair he was sleeping peacefully on just moments ago. "Wha.. why the fuck did you wake me up Randy, you better have a good darn reason!". "Why don't you take a look outside and see for yourself ". Jared rubbed his eyes and walked towards the office door. As soon as he opened the door he was met with a cold wind. Immediately he could feel the veins in his nose and ears shrink. "You've got to be kiddin''me, It's not even december yet". He pulled his US border patrol hat firmly over his ears and stepped outside. At first glance everything seemed fine, the fence he had been guarding for over 6 years was just as rusty as ever, and there were no mexicans in sight.
SLAM
A deafening rumble echoed through the wasteland.
Jared instinctively dropped to the ground, his ears ringing and his heart racing. "Did the wet-backs blow a hole in the fence again"? Fearing the worst, he looked up, and then looked back down, and back up again.
There was a wall. No really, there was a wall right in front of him.
Completely baffled, Jared pinched himself on the wrist, desperately wanting to wake up from this bizarre dream. He felt a small pain, incomparable to the pain in his ears, but it definitely was there. He was not dreaming, and there really was a wall where the fence used to be. Not only that, but there was someone standing ontop of it. Jared couldn't see the figure clearly, his eyes still being irritated by dust and sand and from having just woken up. The figure seemed to be oblivious to Jared's presence, or he simply didn't care. Either way, Jared slowly rubbed in his eyes again and blinked a few times, making sure not to make any noise. He could now see a lot more clearly. The thing that stood ontop of the brick wall was not human. It was atleast 3 foot taller than a adult man, with facial features that reminded Jared of a goat, and arms that seemed out of proportion with the rest of it's hairless black body.
General Kelly was walking through the hallway, making long strides in a steady rythm. Even though he just got a unnerving call from the defense department he maintained a calm and confident composure. As he approached the door to the Oval office he took a second to fully inhale and exhale, and then walked in. His employer was sitting on the floor, next to him was a sheet of paper and a few colored crayons. "Mr president, I just recieved information i must share with you"
"I know General, trust me, i know"" The president said, and smiled.
Only now General Kelly noticed the words that were written down on the paper.
WE NEED TO BUILD A WALL.
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[WP] By an odd accident your toddlers crayon scribbles turn out to be the exact runes needed to summon a demon to this world, who will obey the summoners every command. Unfortunately, your toddler only knows 5 words.
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The world did not end in fire.
There was no final battle, no glorious charge. No heroes or martyrs, no last stands and no speeches.
The world was murdered in it's sleep. The tools of it's destruction weren't metal and flame, but wax and paper.
The final rune was scrawled in Mango Tango orange, the Crayola worked to a nub squeezed between pudgy, sticky fingers. Seven billion people in the world, all doing countless things at any given time, it's a matter of simple probability that eventually someone would write the summons, whether with intent or by accident.
As fate would have it, the man behind the weapon was not yet a man at all, but 2 year old James McGrady.
James set the crayon down and stared at his handiwork, scribbled on the ochre wallpaper of his parent's Boston colonial. Not realizing the gravitas of his actions, he immediately plunged the mangled corpse of his last crayon into his mouth and mashed it into bits between his molars.
The Earth shook. Books fell from their shelves. Too young to be afraid, James stood and looked around. The sky was supposed to be blue, he's pretty sure, but it seemed a different color. Red? Mommy's shoes color to be sure, but the name escapes him.
I LIVE
the words weren't spoken so much as they simply *were*. It wasn't a voice that spoke them, they just simply existed.
The Earth parted beyond the bay window to James's left and swallowed the suburban front yard, as well as Mr. McGrady's Subaru Outback, its green fender barely peeking from the hole. Green? Maybe brown? James scratched his head.
From the pit arose the twisted and horrible body of the Nameless. Adorned in corpses and wreathed in flame, it's muscular arms gripped the edge of the fiery hole and writhed from the Earth. It's form was indescribable in any language known to mankind, seeming to have both claws and tentacles instead of fingers, both a head and face and yet neither. It's being was both there and not there, phasing in and out of our reality like a giant beating heart.
MORTAL, the not-voice spoke, I AM BOUND TO YOU FOR 6 DAYS AND 6 NIGHTS SPEAK YOUR BIDDING
Unfamiliar with the concept of names, but curious as to who the figure at the window was, James selected at random one of the two names he had learned and spoke it out more as a question than a statement.
"Da da?"
AS YOU COMMAND
James's father materialized downstairs, upright but still asleep from his nap moments ago where he was laying in bed. The faceplant woke him up though.
As he pushed himself off the floor, but before Mr. McGrady could speak, James blurted out, in an excited note,
"Cookie!"
YOUR WILL IS MINE
And with the misunderstood command, James's father became a chocolate chip cookie.
It was at this point that James made his grave error, the one that would bring the annihilation of the human race. You see, James only knew probably 5 people, and his father was the one raising him. So out of those five people, one was now a cookie. This is a pretty big percentage and James was too young to understand percentages, but old enough to realize what he is looking at. So it's only natural he wanted to make sure everyone else he knows is still human and not a dessert food. But his phrasing left a little to be desired.
"Everyone cookie?"
SO IT SHALL BE
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Jared!.... Jared! Jared wake up you lazy piece of shit! The man named Jared Mundy opened his eyes and jumped from the folding chair he was sleeping peacefully on just moments ago. "Wha.. why the fuck did you wake me up Randy, you better have a good darn reason!". "Why don't you take a look outside and see for yourself ". Jared rubbed his eyes and walked towards the office door. As soon as he opened the door he was met with a cold wind. Immediately he could feel the veins in his nose and ears shrink. "You've got to be kiddin''me, It's not even december yet". He pulled his US border patrol hat firmly over his ears and stepped outside. At first glance everything seemed fine, the fence he had been guarding for over 6 years was just as rusty as ever, and there were no mexicans in sight.
SLAM
A deafening rumble echoed through the wasteland.
Jared instinctively dropped to the ground, his ears ringing and his heart racing. "Did the wet-backs blow a hole in the fence again"? Fearing the worst, he looked up, and then looked back down, and back up again.
There was a wall. No really, there was a wall right in front of him.
Completely baffled, Jared pinched himself on the wrist, desperately wanting to wake up from this bizarre dream. He felt a small pain, incomparable to the pain in his ears, but it definitely was there. He was not dreaming, and there really was a wall where the fence used to be. Not only that, but there was someone standing ontop of it. Jared couldn't see the figure clearly, his eyes still being irritated by dust and sand and from having just woken up. The figure seemed to be oblivious to Jared's presence, or he simply didn't care. Either way, Jared slowly rubbed in his eyes again and blinked a few times, making sure not to make any noise. He could now see a lot more clearly. The thing that stood ontop of the brick wall was not human. It was atleast 3 foot taller than a adult man, with facial features that reminded Jared of a goat, and arms that seemed out of proportion with the rest of it's hairless black body.
General Kelly was walking through the hallway, making long strides in a steady rythm. Even though he just got a unnerving call from the defense department he maintained a calm and confident composure. As he approached the door to the Oval office he took a second to fully inhale and exhale, and then walked in. His employer was sitting on the floor, next to him was a sheet of paper and a few colored crayons. "Mr president, I just recieved information i must share with you"
"I know General, trust me, i know"" The president said, and smiled.
Only now General Kelly noticed the words that were written down on the paper.
WE NEED TO BUILD A WALL.
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[WP] All the heroes in the world have been beaten by the great evil. The only one who stands between him and destroying the world is you. You have no powers and just happened to be there and witness it all. The evil thinks you are the final boss of heroes.
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I was standing there, blankly looking at him, the "great villain", the "fifth horseman of the apocalypse", the most "evil conception there is", and yet, I could find myself scared, in fact, I was amused, amused by the irony of this situation.
I smiled. It was more of a smirk than a smile but I did. I took a deep breath and closes my eyes. Trying to analyze the situation. I was bad, that much I figured out from the start.
Who knew that such a creature lurked underneath the surface of our planet. A being that could absorb the evil from people and use it to power itself up. I had supposedly absorbed all the evil in the world a was able to defeat all the heroes. It should've ended there but I just had to go to New York that week didn't I?
And here was I thinking this kind of things only happen in movies. The person you would expect the least becomes the hero. But am I really the hero in this case? Is this helping my situation or just making it worse?
He looked ready to attack. From his expression I could see he was terrified. Why wouldn't he be? He was almost killed by the other heroes and now this guy comes in front of him acting like he's the final boss.
I knew I could only do one thing. I started running towards him as he was gathering power. This was my only chance. I tackled him with all of my might.
I felt like my soul was being pulled out of my body. It was horrible, and, at the same time, it made me feel liberated.
What happened next was an explosion of nothing.
He had reached it's maximum capacity.
Who would've guessed that me, a notorious serial killer would end up saving the world
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Your name is Michael Travis. You're a stuntman turned freelance pilot, and you make your living serving as what essentially amounts to an international taxi for the Enhanced. Superheroes, in other words. You haven't got any powers yourself, but you're a damn good pilot and mechanic. You fly a heavily modified Cessna with just enough fuel capacity to safely cross the Atlantic, and you thought this would be just another day. Some threats of an attack in London came in yesterday, so you grabbed a couple Enhanced from New York that couldn't snag jet tickets on short notice and ferried them over.
They weren't amazingly popular, but you'd dealt with them before. Concretia, real name Ashley Sinclair, with the ability to absorb the properties of whatever she touched. Then Sabrina Brooks, who'd elected not to maintain a secret identity, and was essentially a grown-up magical girl. When the three of you caught sight of the city, London was burning bright enough that it looked like an orange dot on the horizon.
Panicking, you pushed your little plane as fast as it could go. You'd buzzed Big Ben, normally horribly dangerous and seven kinds of illegal but it gave Sinclair and Brooks a way out of your plane and they could both take a fall like a professional when they had time to plan it.
The fires had snapped them out of the air like the maw of a hungry animal when they'd descended the clock tower.
Now, closer to the flames, you could tell that they were unique. Burning in the shape of sabercats, dinosaurs, and other primordial predators, they chased your plane like a toy. You'd never flown this fast or this recklessly in your life, but when the chips are down, you're still one of the best pilots in the world, and things like safety margins take less priority when you're evading a pterodactyl made of fire.
Then the voice sounded in your head. *Ah, a survivor. Better even than the rest of these champions. You must be their leader.*
A sudden increase in weight in the back of the plane almost ruins your latest maneuver, but you compensate at the last second, completing an Immelman turn that takes you between a giant eagle and a tyrannosaurus. "So, King of Heroes, my name is Abbadon." The voice sounds from directly behind you. You pull the plane into a steep ascent, pouring on the thrust so that you'll stall out and reverse direction in a couple seconds, and turn to face its source.
Abbadon, as he calls himself, is a tall, pale man with a curved pair of jet-black horns. Dressed in a business suit and with no weapons, there's no way he should have accounted for enough weight to almost throw you into a tailspin, but you know enough about the Enhanced not to judge a book by its cover. "I don't know what you mean by 'King of Heroes,'" you say. "I'm just a pilot."
"A pilot who can evade my creations even when all of the world's champions have been consumed by the flames?"
"Well, yes. Honestly I just don't think people appreciate fire as a hazard when they're Enhanced. I happen to like not being near it."
Abbadon lets out a mildly off-put sounding *hmm* before asking you a question. "Well, then. Was that really all of the heroes?"
You shrug. "We were probably the slowest bus in, since Concretia and Sabrina were low priority heroes. We expected them to be on cleanup by now, honestly. So yeah. Not likely to be any more."
The man slumps into the seat of your plane with a paradoxically undignified error as you stall out. "That's disappointing. I at least thought taking over the world would be a challenge."
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[WP] All the heroes in the world have been beaten by the great evil. The only one who stands between him and destroying the world is you. You have no powers and just happened to be there and witness it all. The evil thinks you are the final boss of heroes.
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Ezren the Just struggled to breathe. His chest felt like tight bands of truesteel encased it and his hands were heavy and hot.
*Why am I on the ground? How did I get here?*
As his thoughts slowly coalesced back into normalcy, the groans of his dying Companions filled his ears. He cast his eyes around him as sweat beads dropped from his brow.
*Janos the Proud. Sandred the Sly. Thur, Son of the Moon. So many. They are all dead or dying. We have lost.*
It was the quiet voice that brought him back fully to the present. That average, soft voice that somehow invoked the deepest of tremors in his gut. Ezren was long past the entry to manhood and had known war since he was a child but this… this voice… it *terrified* him. The being behind that voice had pillaged lands for decades and was responsible for the deaths of so many.
"Yes... good. Come back to me, Ezren. I want you to see this. Not because you deserve it but to honor what we once were, so long ago. I want you to witness!"
Summoning the last vestiges of his will, Ezren pushed himself to his hands and knees and then grunted with the effort to get a leg up. He raised his head and saw stars swimming in his view. His ears had a tinny ring in them that made the dying groans around him all the more piteous.
He was bloodied, he was broken, but he was not yet dead. He would continue to fight.
“Balthror… you must not go through with this! It was forbidden from long ago. You must not harness the Winds of Time!”
“Fool! I will not sit by your temple’s *teachings* any longer! Your priests warn and wail out of fear and cowardice of the unknown! I alone have seen what is coming. I alone have seen what lurks in the night. If we are to be strong enough, we must draw from the powers of this world, from the very powers of time and space!”
The dark sorcerer's voice was not deep or particularly loud but Ezren could practically feel the evil madness seeping through his words.
“Balthror, you can’t! You will destroy this world that you claim to love! We were never close, Balthror, but we fought side by side as young men. Why would you do this? Why destroy it all on some nameless fear?”
Balthror just sneered at him and turned to the side, clearly not interested in wasting more time on arguing. He had won. No need to explain more. His eyes centered on the altar in the middle of the stone room.
Atop the altar was a dark orb, a void of all light which hovering above the ancient stones. Balthror's hands started to move rapidly. Sudden lines of light and something... dark... started to flash and twist around his fingers. Bursts of lightning quickly shot out to the void and just as quickly shot back. The temperature in the room plummeted so quickly that Balthror’s spoken words became fog in front of his face.
As Balthror continued his incantations, Ezren slowly steeled his mind against the agony racing through his body, willing himself for one more strike. The hilt of his truesteel sword was inches from his grasp. Balthror’s dark magic gave him protection from most physical blows but maybe, just maybe, a true strike to the head would suffice. Ezren knew that it would not work but he still must try.
With the last ounce of energy in his body, Ezren jumped to his feet with his sword and lunged towards the dark sorcerer. His sword shot out at the head of the being that used to be a mortal man. Ezren poured every bit of his strength into the thrust, willing the sword to pierce the sorceror's eldritch defenses.
The point of the sword stopped suddenly in the air well in front of the dark robed figure. Ezren screamed out at the flaring pain in his wrist and shoulder from the impact of the thwarted blow. He crumpled to the ground, defeated and humiliated. Balthror didn’t even look at Ezren as he continued his dark incantation.
Moments later, the void of darkness expanded rapidly, growing from the size of a man’s fist to something much larger like the mouth of a cave. Lightning shot out of and back into the darkness and the coldness of the air burned Ezren’s lungs. Ezren screamed. He could feel hopelessness settle in his soul like a frozen anchor.
A sudden implosion of air caused Ezren to slam his mouth shut, slicing open his tongue and filling him with the coppery taste of blood. Balthror was thrown back several yards but somehow managed to land with a foot beneath him. He scrambled back to his feet rapidly.
Where the portal had once been stood a man. He looked like no man Ezren had ever seen before. He wore no armor or sword and his clothes were thin. They were made from a material that was unfamiliar to Ezren. The man had stains on his shirt and he was certainly no warrior. Though he looked strong enough, his belly extended far beyond his belt and the man’s awkward stumbling had none of a warrior’s grace. The stranger had a massive beard and wore a strange accoutrement on his head. It was red with white markings and extended over his eyes by several inches.
The man looked around a bit and swore loudly. Though Ezren had never heard this tongue before, he could somehow understand the man’s speech quite clearly though his words came out strange as though the man were sucking on a stone of his throat.
“What in the flying fuck is happening to me? Where the fuck am I? Ahh shit I am going to be late for dinner and the missus is gonna whoop my ass! She’ll think I’ve been drinking with Billy again! Fuck!”
This seemingly tirade at himself continued on for several more moments as the man looked around while occasionally spitting a brown substance on the stone floor of the ancient temple. The tirade stopped when Balthror coughed loudly and began to speak.
“And who are you? Some champion that the Absent Gods have summoned to do battle with me? Do you not understand? Look around you, fool! I have harnessed the power of Stone and Moon. I have summoned the Nine Beings and chained them to my will. By the power of my Words I have broken the Companions. Ezren the Just lays broken before me, his legendary sword useless in his hands. Fool!”
The man raised the red item on his head just slightly before crossing his arms across his chest over his prodigious gut.
“Listen here, boy. You talk too much. Shut the fuck up. I ain’t got no good goddamn idea what you are going on about but I was just taking a load from ‘tlanta down to the coast when a fucking deer came out of nowhere and I hit a telephone pole. Last thing I knew, some damn ‘lectrical line was hittin my cab and I could feel the sparks flying. Now where the fuck am I?”
Balthror stood still, looking at the man for several long seconds. The silence started to grow ponderous and thick in the room, haltered only by the now occasional groans from one of the Companions unlucky enough to still be living. Finally, Balthror shook himself and barked a laugh.
“The portal. Time and space. You fool! Don’t you see? You are an accident! You are a mistake! You have been mistakenly summoned here. You are no champion! You are a weak wretch that I will cast down and destroy! Prepare yourself for doom!”
Balthror’s otherwise mild voice raised to a howl by the end of his rant, his hands coming up and moving into a complex pattern. Motes of light started to form around his fingertips.
The stranger took a sudden step back and reached behind his back and pulled forth a shiny metal… something. It looked like a miniature club with a handle embedded on the end. The handle was fashioned at an angle so the shiny silver tube pointed to the dark sorcerer. The man sounded somewhat fearful as he responded.
“Now listen here mister. God don’t make no junk so I’m ain’t no damn mistake. I got no beef with you but I don’t like what you just said. Put your hands down and cut the shit or I’ll end you.”
Balthror said nothing and the motes of color grew in size and brightness. Their motion sped up and started to move out in random patterns closer and closer to the stranger.
The man’s eyes widened under the red cloth on his head and he stammered a few times. His thumb pulled something back on club and an audible click resounded in the stone chamber.
“Last warning, mister! I will end you, motherfucker!”
Balthror just roared in response and shoved his hands out in a sudden jerk, sending the motes of lights out at the stranger as fast as a speeding hawk.
There was a sudden **BOOM** and Ezren screamed again in pain as his already damaged ears were overloaded by the echoes of noise in the stone room. Ezren lost consciousness.
CONTINUED
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Your name is Michael Travis. You're a stuntman turned freelance pilot, and you make your living serving as what essentially amounts to an international taxi for the Enhanced. Superheroes, in other words. You haven't got any powers yourself, but you're a damn good pilot and mechanic. You fly a heavily modified Cessna with just enough fuel capacity to safely cross the Atlantic, and you thought this would be just another day. Some threats of an attack in London came in yesterday, so you grabbed a couple Enhanced from New York that couldn't snag jet tickets on short notice and ferried them over.
They weren't amazingly popular, but you'd dealt with them before. Concretia, real name Ashley Sinclair, with the ability to absorb the properties of whatever she touched. Then Sabrina Brooks, who'd elected not to maintain a secret identity, and was essentially a grown-up magical girl. When the three of you caught sight of the city, London was burning bright enough that it looked like an orange dot on the horizon.
Panicking, you pushed your little plane as fast as it could go. You'd buzzed Big Ben, normally horribly dangerous and seven kinds of illegal but it gave Sinclair and Brooks a way out of your plane and they could both take a fall like a professional when they had time to plan it.
The fires had snapped them out of the air like the maw of a hungry animal when they'd descended the clock tower.
Now, closer to the flames, you could tell that they were unique. Burning in the shape of sabercats, dinosaurs, and other primordial predators, they chased your plane like a toy. You'd never flown this fast or this recklessly in your life, but when the chips are down, you're still one of the best pilots in the world, and things like safety margins take less priority when you're evading a pterodactyl made of fire.
Then the voice sounded in your head. *Ah, a survivor. Better even than the rest of these champions. You must be their leader.*
A sudden increase in weight in the back of the plane almost ruins your latest maneuver, but you compensate at the last second, completing an Immelman turn that takes you between a giant eagle and a tyrannosaurus. "So, King of Heroes, my name is Abbadon." The voice sounds from directly behind you. You pull the plane into a steep ascent, pouring on the thrust so that you'll stall out and reverse direction in a couple seconds, and turn to face its source.
Abbadon, as he calls himself, is a tall, pale man with a curved pair of jet-black horns. Dressed in a business suit and with no weapons, there's no way he should have accounted for enough weight to almost throw you into a tailspin, but you know enough about the Enhanced not to judge a book by its cover. "I don't know what you mean by 'King of Heroes,'" you say. "I'm just a pilot."
"A pilot who can evade my creations even when all of the world's champions have been consumed by the flames?"
"Well, yes. Honestly I just don't think people appreciate fire as a hazard when they're Enhanced. I happen to like not being near it."
Abbadon lets out a mildly off-put sounding *hmm* before asking you a question. "Well, then. Was that really all of the heroes?"
You shrug. "We were probably the slowest bus in, since Concretia and Sabrina were low priority heroes. We expected them to be on cleanup by now, honestly. So yeah. Not likely to be any more."
The man slumps into the seat of your plane with a paradoxically undignified error as you stall out. "That's disappointing. I at least thought taking over the world would be a challenge."
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[WP] All the heroes in the world have been beaten by the great evil. The only one who stands between him and destroying the world is you. You have no powers and just happened to be there and witness it all. The evil thinks you are the final boss of heroes.
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The demon stood in the corridor, flames licking its body. Its glowing red eyes bore a malice of ages, a contempt that had festered in the bowels of the underworld for aeons. Smoke billowed from its nose, curling up to the ceiling in acrid yellow clouds.
"Who dares to stand in the way of D'thora, destroyer of worlds?" his deep, gravelly bass voice boomed. "Which fool chooses to challenge my will?"
I sucked on the end of my toothpick, deliberately making the asshole wait for my reply.
It's all about power dynamics, dude.
"Name's Bob," I finally replied.
The demon's face went from one of undisguised contempt to one of irritation and confusion.
"Bob?" he asked.
"Bob," I replied.
The demon paused, the look of confusion becoming more intense.
"Bob what? Bob the reaper? Bob the light guardian? Bob, the eternal defender of the people?"
I paused once again, before replying.
"Nope. Just Bob."
The demon's gaze fell from my face, and he stared at the floor, evidently lost in thought.
"Odd," he muttered in his gravelly voice. "I don't recall any heroes named Bob. I'm sure my lord would have mentioned it before I started this whole thing."
"Well," I said slowly, as if addressing a child, "That might be because I ain't no hero."
His eyes shot back up to mine. "What do you mean, you aren't a hero?"
"Ain't a hero, plain as that. I'm the custodian."
A wave of understanding washed over the demon's face. "Ahh, I see. You're the guardian of this facility then. It remains under your protection and custody."
"Nuh uh," I said, shaking my head slowly. "I'm just the custodian."
The confusion returned. "I don't understand."
"I... am... the custodian," I said slowly. Caretaker. Janitor. Whatever you wanna call it. I clean the place."
"You... you clean it?" it growled.
"Yup," I replied.
"You are not a hero?"
"Nope."
"Then... nothing stands between me and the artifact! Move aside, mortal!"
"Nope," I said, chewing on the toothpick. "You ain't goin' in there. I just waxed the floor."
"I go where I please!" exploded the demon, charging forward.
I whipped the portal gun from my pocket, firing it at the floor in front of the demon. He tried to stop, but his hooves slipped on the freshly waxed floor, and he slid inside it the hole and into an eternal void. The portal sealed itself with a soft 'pop'.
I smiled to myself. There were some benefits to working at Area 51. But within moments, the smile faded as I realized what had just happened.
"Shit. Now I gotta rewax that part of the floor."
|
Your name is Michael Travis. You're a stuntman turned freelance pilot, and you make your living serving as what essentially amounts to an international taxi for the Enhanced. Superheroes, in other words. You haven't got any powers yourself, but you're a damn good pilot and mechanic. You fly a heavily modified Cessna with just enough fuel capacity to safely cross the Atlantic, and you thought this would be just another day. Some threats of an attack in London came in yesterday, so you grabbed a couple Enhanced from New York that couldn't snag jet tickets on short notice and ferried them over.
They weren't amazingly popular, but you'd dealt with them before. Concretia, real name Ashley Sinclair, with the ability to absorb the properties of whatever she touched. Then Sabrina Brooks, who'd elected not to maintain a secret identity, and was essentially a grown-up magical girl. When the three of you caught sight of the city, London was burning bright enough that it looked like an orange dot on the horizon.
Panicking, you pushed your little plane as fast as it could go. You'd buzzed Big Ben, normally horribly dangerous and seven kinds of illegal but it gave Sinclair and Brooks a way out of your plane and they could both take a fall like a professional when they had time to plan it.
The fires had snapped them out of the air like the maw of a hungry animal when they'd descended the clock tower.
Now, closer to the flames, you could tell that they were unique. Burning in the shape of sabercats, dinosaurs, and other primordial predators, they chased your plane like a toy. You'd never flown this fast or this recklessly in your life, but when the chips are down, you're still one of the best pilots in the world, and things like safety margins take less priority when you're evading a pterodactyl made of fire.
Then the voice sounded in your head. *Ah, a survivor. Better even than the rest of these champions. You must be their leader.*
A sudden increase in weight in the back of the plane almost ruins your latest maneuver, but you compensate at the last second, completing an Immelman turn that takes you between a giant eagle and a tyrannosaurus. "So, King of Heroes, my name is Abbadon." The voice sounds from directly behind you. You pull the plane into a steep ascent, pouring on the thrust so that you'll stall out and reverse direction in a couple seconds, and turn to face its source.
Abbadon, as he calls himself, is a tall, pale man with a curved pair of jet-black horns. Dressed in a business suit and with no weapons, there's no way he should have accounted for enough weight to almost throw you into a tailspin, but you know enough about the Enhanced not to judge a book by its cover. "I don't know what you mean by 'King of Heroes,'" you say. "I'm just a pilot."
"A pilot who can evade my creations even when all of the world's champions have been consumed by the flames?"
"Well, yes. Honestly I just don't think people appreciate fire as a hazard when they're Enhanced. I happen to like not being near it."
Abbadon lets out a mildly off-put sounding *hmm* before asking you a question. "Well, then. Was that really all of the heroes?"
You shrug. "We were probably the slowest bus in, since Concretia and Sabrina were low priority heroes. We expected them to be on cleanup by now, honestly. So yeah. Not likely to be any more."
The man slumps into the seat of your plane with a paradoxically undignified error as you stall out. "That's disappointing. I at least thought taking over the world would be a challenge."
|
|
[WP] All the heroes in the world have been beaten by the great evil. The only one who stands between him and destroying the world is you. You have no powers and just happened to be there and witness it all. The evil thinks you are the final boss of heroes.
|
Ezren the Just struggled to breathe. His chest felt like tight bands of truesteel encased it and his hands were heavy and hot.
*Why am I on the ground? How did I get here?*
As his thoughts slowly coalesced back into normalcy, the groans of his dying Companions filled his ears. He cast his eyes around him as sweat beads dropped from his brow.
*Janos the Proud. Sandred the Sly. Thur, Son of the Moon. So many. They are all dead or dying. We have lost.*
It was the quiet voice that brought him back fully to the present. That average, soft voice that somehow invoked the deepest of tremors in his gut. Ezren was long past the entry to manhood and had known war since he was a child but this… this voice… it *terrified* him. The being behind that voice had pillaged lands for decades and was responsible for the deaths of so many.
"Yes... good. Come back to me, Ezren. I want you to see this. Not because you deserve it but to honor what we once were, so long ago. I want you to witness!"
Summoning the last vestiges of his will, Ezren pushed himself to his hands and knees and then grunted with the effort to get a leg up. He raised his head and saw stars swimming in his view. His ears had a tinny ring in them that made the dying groans around him all the more piteous.
He was bloodied, he was broken, but he was not yet dead. He would continue to fight.
“Balthror… you must not go through with this! It was forbidden from long ago. You must not harness the Winds of Time!”
“Fool! I will not sit by your temple’s *teachings* any longer! Your priests warn and wail out of fear and cowardice of the unknown! I alone have seen what is coming. I alone have seen what lurks in the night. If we are to be strong enough, we must draw from the powers of this world, from the very powers of time and space!”
The dark sorcerer's voice was not deep or particularly loud but Ezren could practically feel the evil madness seeping through his words.
“Balthror, you can’t! You will destroy this world that you claim to love! We were never close, Balthror, but we fought side by side as young men. Why would you do this? Why destroy it all on some nameless fear?”
Balthror just sneered at him and turned to the side, clearly not interested in wasting more time on arguing. He had won. No need to explain more. His eyes centered on the altar in the middle of the stone room.
Atop the altar was a dark orb, a void of all light which hovering above the ancient stones. Balthror's hands started to move rapidly. Sudden lines of light and something... dark... started to flash and twist around his fingers. Bursts of lightning quickly shot out to the void and just as quickly shot back. The temperature in the room plummeted so quickly that Balthror’s spoken words became fog in front of his face.
As Balthror continued his incantations, Ezren slowly steeled his mind against the agony racing through his body, willing himself for one more strike. The hilt of his truesteel sword was inches from his grasp. Balthror’s dark magic gave him protection from most physical blows but maybe, just maybe, a true strike to the head would suffice. Ezren knew that it would not work but he still must try.
With the last ounce of energy in his body, Ezren jumped to his feet with his sword and lunged towards the dark sorcerer. His sword shot out at the head of the being that used to be a mortal man. Ezren poured every bit of his strength into the thrust, willing the sword to pierce the sorceror's eldritch defenses.
The point of the sword stopped suddenly in the air well in front of the dark robed figure. Ezren screamed out at the flaring pain in his wrist and shoulder from the impact of the thwarted blow. He crumpled to the ground, defeated and humiliated. Balthror didn’t even look at Ezren as he continued his dark incantation.
Moments later, the void of darkness expanded rapidly, growing from the size of a man’s fist to something much larger like the mouth of a cave. Lightning shot out of and back into the darkness and the coldness of the air burned Ezren’s lungs. Ezren screamed. He could feel hopelessness settle in his soul like a frozen anchor.
A sudden implosion of air caused Ezren to slam his mouth shut, slicing open his tongue and filling him with the coppery taste of blood. Balthror was thrown back several yards but somehow managed to land with a foot beneath him. He scrambled back to his feet rapidly.
Where the portal had once been stood a man. He looked like no man Ezren had ever seen before. He wore no armor or sword and his clothes were thin. They were made from a material that was unfamiliar to Ezren. The man had stains on his shirt and he was certainly no warrior. Though he looked strong enough, his belly extended far beyond his belt and the man’s awkward stumbling had none of a warrior’s grace. The stranger had a massive beard and wore a strange accoutrement on his head. It was red with white markings and extended over his eyes by several inches.
The man looked around a bit and swore loudly. Though Ezren had never heard this tongue before, he could somehow understand the man’s speech quite clearly though his words came out strange as though the man were sucking on a stone of his throat.
“What in the flying fuck is happening to me? Where the fuck am I? Ahh shit I am going to be late for dinner and the missus is gonna whoop my ass! She’ll think I’ve been drinking with Billy again! Fuck!”
This seemingly tirade at himself continued on for several more moments as the man looked around while occasionally spitting a brown substance on the stone floor of the ancient temple. The tirade stopped when Balthror coughed loudly and began to speak.
“And who are you? Some champion that the Absent Gods have summoned to do battle with me? Do you not understand? Look around you, fool! I have harnessed the power of Stone and Moon. I have summoned the Nine Beings and chained them to my will. By the power of my Words I have broken the Companions. Ezren the Just lays broken before me, his legendary sword useless in his hands. Fool!”
The man raised the red item on his head just slightly before crossing his arms across his chest over his prodigious gut.
“Listen here, boy. You talk too much. Shut the fuck up. I ain’t got no good goddamn idea what you are going on about but I was just taking a load from ‘tlanta down to the coast when a fucking deer came out of nowhere and I hit a telephone pole. Last thing I knew, some damn ‘lectrical line was hittin my cab and I could feel the sparks flying. Now where the fuck am I?”
Balthror stood still, looking at the man for several long seconds. The silence started to grow ponderous and thick in the room, haltered only by the now occasional groans from one of the Companions unlucky enough to still be living. Finally, Balthror shook himself and barked a laugh.
“The portal. Time and space. You fool! Don’t you see? You are an accident! You are a mistake! You have been mistakenly summoned here. You are no champion! You are a weak wretch that I will cast down and destroy! Prepare yourself for doom!”
Balthror’s otherwise mild voice raised to a howl by the end of his rant, his hands coming up and moving into a complex pattern. Motes of light started to form around his fingertips.
The stranger took a sudden step back and reached behind his back and pulled forth a shiny metal… something. It looked like a miniature club with a handle embedded on the end. The handle was fashioned at an angle so the shiny silver tube pointed to the dark sorcerer. The man sounded somewhat fearful as he responded.
“Now listen here mister. God don’t make no junk so I’m ain’t no damn mistake. I got no beef with you but I don’t like what you just said. Put your hands down and cut the shit or I’ll end you.”
Balthror said nothing and the motes of color grew in size and brightness. Their motion sped up and started to move out in random patterns closer and closer to the stranger.
The man’s eyes widened under the red cloth on his head and he stammered a few times. His thumb pulled something back on club and an audible click resounded in the stone chamber.
“Last warning, mister! I will end you, motherfucker!”
Balthror just roared in response and shoved his hands out in a sudden jerk, sending the motes of lights out at the stranger as fast as a speeding hawk.
There was a sudden **BOOM** and Ezren screamed again in pain as his already damaged ears were overloaded by the echoes of noise in the stone room. Ezren lost consciousness.
CONTINUED
|
A weary and battered man, soaked in the blood of heroes, crests the last of the steps to the flat white plateau which another has found himself disoriented atop.
*where am I?*, the second wants to ask, but the other's appearance does not lend itself to thoughts of welcome or civilised help.
Then again, bloodwalker (whence that name?) is sure to look up in a moment, and notice him there. Perhaps best to get off on a civilised foot, it at all possible?
"Greetings!"
The streak of blood trailing the man across the pristine white floor, (that doesn't spread or soak, as if.. caged? in this place), ceases its progression with the heavy fall of a boot.
The man raises his great head from its driving position before him. It is ugly beyond measure, but in its misshapen brutality, not in maggots or writhing tentacles. *Why would it be ugly in maggots or writhing tentacles?* The lost man doesn't know, but he knows something is more wrong with the man than mere brutality, or mere murder, or even mere rivers of blood.
*Since when are these things mere*, wonders the man. Before he can wonder at such a thought coming to him, an ordinary man (-surely?) he is interrupted by answer.
"Since the devourer sullied the steps of heaven.. with his ungracious presence" answers the man.
For some reason he doesn't understand, the lost man does not jump back and shrink into a ball.
-Perhaps he is dreaming.
Instead he thinks, *you can read thoughts?*
"Stop playing stupid, whoever you are, or whoevers you are." "There is nothing to be stalled for, no more time to be gained. You will cast me from the steps, as was foreordained, -you will break me on the wheel. Or I will stain the gates with the blood of the last champion, and break them after all." The man stopped and laughed at his pun. -after *all*. "You know this, I know this. Why delay? I am only getting stronger, healing from my wounds as we speak."
*I must be drea..*
a throaty laugh burst from the man, interrupting his thought. "Very funny! ..Alright, I don't mind waiting. If it's to my entertainment as well as advantage. Perhaps the fates have changed their tune, since I.." he dropped to a whisper "..had a little word with them"
The lost man rubbed his forehead and blinked his eyes. He tried to think quietly, not wanting to provoke another outburst from the hallucination. *There must have been some kind of mistake...*
no discordant ear splitting laugh pierced his attention, it seemed to be working
*..perhaps a translation error. 'Final' champion.. could be 'no' champion? Maybe someone..*
he suddenly stopped his thoughts. As if finally stepping from a dream trance, a (seeming) realisation came that the man's laughter was the least was the least of his worries, that the only thing seemingly delaying his demise was the man's idea that he was a champion, -whom it might benefit him to strengthen before facing.
These thoughts were rapid and preverbal, and he hoped the man could not make sense of them.
The man, -bloodwalker (whence that name?), was regarding him with keen interest. "Well this is new, this is an interesting way to set a trap. It's creative! I commend it." a bored look passed across his face "But I'm not that stupid, I'm not that antsy, and I'm not going to fly at you just because I can hear you fear and mean it. You're up to something, and I can wait"
The man did look stronger now, more malevolent now. Those maggots and tentacles might appear at any second.. But it was then that the clock struck twelve, -as a sudden sound of liquid evaporating marked the dissapearance of the last drop of blood from the no-longer-trail at the man's heel, leaving him stranded on the white floor.
Correction, -where were the steps? The endless white plane.
Where was the gate?
Surely at his back, looming endlessly up, for a vast shadow began to sweep across the plane.
It was then that he remembered who he was. The man's son, memory wiped and used for a stooge. A moment's sympathy, too imperceptible for bloodwalker to find and stamp out, a moment's thought of recognition manifesting as curiosity. Some moment's delay, and the simple trap could spring.
-Since bloodwalker had entered *the realm*, he would not have been for an instant without an excess of fresh blood, so he made his way deeper and deeper into the wards, so far insulated, so safe from them, as to not recognise their purpose. If he could only be kept here, between the stair and the gate, where blood fled, he could be paralyzed, defeated in an instant.
That was the plan.
..But there had been one oversight. With the son's memory wipe, he had forgotten his father's crimes, forgotten who put him in the grave, and for what end. And he had always been one quick to action, and loyal to a fault.
So he threw himself forward, even as the shadow twisted to pull him back, struggling forward and forward and forward, and just close enough to rend his skin with his teeth and sprinkle a shower of blood sweeping forward, a drop to land at the feet of the man who he remembered was his father, and that those who had fooled him wished to defeat.
And so the challenger appeared through a cracked and screaming gate, losing a third its essence squeezing through its imploding form, that had shrunk from the moment the first blood touched the ground, and *collapsed* from the point that bloodwalker added his own to the mix.
_
"No matter", spoke the champion. "I will cast you from the steps, and break you on the wheel"
"Ah, but your gates are cracked, and stained with blood."
"Don't tell me you believed that shit... Do you really think this is heaven? That I am master of the world? I am but the master of your paltry tribe, and this my plane. The fates are lies, fool, pretender to dust. I wrote them to ward off believers and halfwits. Not draw them here! No matter.. Should you cast me down, all you'll be is king of no one left. You halfwit! I'm going to cast you from the steps, and break you on the wheel, -only for wasting my fucking time!.
Uncertainty showed on bloodwalker's face for the first time, but it found familiar ground again even as the god charged. "Graaaahhh... Either way, your realm shall be mine!"
|
|
[WP] All the heroes in the world have been beaten by the great evil. The only one who stands between him and destroying the world is you. You have no powers and just happened to be there and witness it all. The evil thinks you are the final boss of heroes.
|
The demon stood in the corridor, flames licking its body. Its glowing red eyes bore a malice of ages, a contempt that had festered in the bowels of the underworld for aeons. Smoke billowed from its nose, curling up to the ceiling in acrid yellow clouds.
"Who dares to stand in the way of D'thora, destroyer of worlds?" his deep, gravelly bass voice boomed. "Which fool chooses to challenge my will?"
I sucked on the end of my toothpick, deliberately making the asshole wait for my reply.
It's all about power dynamics, dude.
"Name's Bob," I finally replied.
The demon's face went from one of undisguised contempt to one of irritation and confusion.
"Bob?" he asked.
"Bob," I replied.
The demon paused, the look of confusion becoming more intense.
"Bob what? Bob the reaper? Bob the light guardian? Bob, the eternal defender of the people?"
I paused once again, before replying.
"Nope. Just Bob."
The demon's gaze fell from my face, and he stared at the floor, evidently lost in thought.
"Odd," he muttered in his gravelly voice. "I don't recall any heroes named Bob. I'm sure my lord would have mentioned it before I started this whole thing."
"Well," I said slowly, as if addressing a child, "That might be because I ain't no hero."
His eyes shot back up to mine. "What do you mean, you aren't a hero?"
"Ain't a hero, plain as that. I'm the custodian."
A wave of understanding washed over the demon's face. "Ahh, I see. You're the guardian of this facility then. It remains under your protection and custody."
"Nuh uh," I said, shaking my head slowly. "I'm just the custodian."
The confusion returned. "I don't understand."
"I... am... the custodian," I said slowly. Caretaker. Janitor. Whatever you wanna call it. I clean the place."
"You... you clean it?" it growled.
"Yup," I replied.
"You are not a hero?"
"Nope."
"Then... nothing stands between me and the artifact! Move aside, mortal!"
"Nope," I said, chewing on the toothpick. "You ain't goin' in there. I just waxed the floor."
"I go where I please!" exploded the demon, charging forward.
I whipped the portal gun from my pocket, firing it at the floor in front of the demon. He tried to stop, but his hooves slipped on the freshly waxed floor, and he slid inside it the hole and into an eternal void. The portal sealed itself with a soft 'pop'.
I smiled to myself. There were some benefits to working at Area 51. But within moments, the smile faded as I realized what had just happened.
"Shit. Now I gotta rewax that part of the floor."
|
A weary and battered man, soaked in the blood of heroes, crests the last of the steps to the flat white plateau which another has found himself disoriented atop.
*where am I?*, the second wants to ask, but the other's appearance does not lend itself to thoughts of welcome or civilised help.
Then again, bloodwalker (whence that name?) is sure to look up in a moment, and notice him there. Perhaps best to get off on a civilised foot, it at all possible?
"Greetings!"
The streak of blood trailing the man across the pristine white floor, (that doesn't spread or soak, as if.. caged? in this place), ceases its progression with the heavy fall of a boot.
The man raises his great head from its driving position before him. It is ugly beyond measure, but in its misshapen brutality, not in maggots or writhing tentacles. *Why would it be ugly in maggots or writhing tentacles?* The lost man doesn't know, but he knows something is more wrong with the man than mere brutality, or mere murder, or even mere rivers of blood.
*Since when are these things mere*, wonders the man. Before he can wonder at such a thought coming to him, an ordinary man (-surely?) he is interrupted by answer.
"Since the devourer sullied the steps of heaven.. with his ungracious presence" answers the man.
For some reason he doesn't understand, the lost man does not jump back and shrink into a ball.
-Perhaps he is dreaming.
Instead he thinks, *you can read thoughts?*
"Stop playing stupid, whoever you are, or whoevers you are." "There is nothing to be stalled for, no more time to be gained. You will cast me from the steps, as was foreordained, -you will break me on the wheel. Or I will stain the gates with the blood of the last champion, and break them after all." The man stopped and laughed at his pun. -after *all*. "You know this, I know this. Why delay? I am only getting stronger, healing from my wounds as we speak."
*I must be drea..*
a throaty laugh burst from the man, interrupting his thought. "Very funny! ..Alright, I don't mind waiting. If it's to my entertainment as well as advantage. Perhaps the fates have changed their tune, since I.." he dropped to a whisper "..had a little word with them"
The lost man rubbed his forehead and blinked his eyes. He tried to think quietly, not wanting to provoke another outburst from the hallucination. *There must have been some kind of mistake...*
no discordant ear splitting laugh pierced his attention, it seemed to be working
*..perhaps a translation error. 'Final' champion.. could be 'no' champion? Maybe someone..*
he suddenly stopped his thoughts. As if finally stepping from a dream trance, a (seeming) realisation came that the man's laughter was the least was the least of his worries, that the only thing seemingly delaying his demise was the man's idea that he was a champion, -whom it might benefit him to strengthen before facing.
These thoughts were rapid and preverbal, and he hoped the man could not make sense of them.
The man, -bloodwalker (whence that name?), was regarding him with keen interest. "Well this is new, this is an interesting way to set a trap. It's creative! I commend it." a bored look passed across his face "But I'm not that stupid, I'm not that antsy, and I'm not going to fly at you just because I can hear you fear and mean it. You're up to something, and I can wait"
The man did look stronger now, more malevolent now. Those maggots and tentacles might appear at any second.. But it was then that the clock struck twelve, -as a sudden sound of liquid evaporating marked the dissapearance of the last drop of blood from the no-longer-trail at the man's heel, leaving him stranded on the white floor.
Correction, -where were the steps? The endless white plane.
Where was the gate?
Surely at his back, looming endlessly up, for a vast shadow began to sweep across the plane.
It was then that he remembered who he was. The man's son, memory wiped and used for a stooge. A moment's sympathy, too imperceptible for bloodwalker to find and stamp out, a moment's thought of recognition manifesting as curiosity. Some moment's delay, and the simple trap could spring.
-Since bloodwalker had entered *the realm*, he would not have been for an instant without an excess of fresh blood, so he made his way deeper and deeper into the wards, so far insulated, so safe from them, as to not recognise their purpose. If he could only be kept here, between the stair and the gate, where blood fled, he could be paralyzed, defeated in an instant.
That was the plan.
..But there had been one oversight. With the son's memory wipe, he had forgotten his father's crimes, forgotten who put him in the grave, and for what end. And he had always been one quick to action, and loyal to a fault.
So he threw himself forward, even as the shadow twisted to pull him back, struggling forward and forward and forward, and just close enough to rend his skin with his teeth and sprinkle a shower of blood sweeping forward, a drop to land at the feet of the man who he remembered was his father, and that those who had fooled him wished to defeat.
And so the challenger appeared through a cracked and screaming gate, losing a third its essence squeezing through its imploding form, that had shrunk from the moment the first blood touched the ground, and *collapsed* from the point that bloodwalker added his own to the mix.
_
"No matter", spoke the champion. "I will cast you from the steps, and break you on the wheel"
"Ah, but your gates are cracked, and stained with blood."
"Don't tell me you believed that shit... Do you really think this is heaven? That I am master of the world? I am but the master of your paltry tribe, and this my plane. The fates are lies, fool, pretender to dust. I wrote them to ward off believers and halfwits. Not draw them here! No matter.. Should you cast me down, all you'll be is king of no one left. You halfwit! I'm going to cast you from the steps, and break you on the wheel, -only for wasting my fucking time!.
Uncertainty showed on bloodwalker's face for the first time, but it found familiar ground again even as the god charged. "Graaaahhh... Either way, your realm shall be mine!"
|
|
[WP] All the heroes in the world have been beaten by the great evil. The only one who stands between him and destroying the world is you. You have no powers and just happened to be there and witness it all. The evil thinks you are the final boss of heroes.
|
Ezren the Just struggled to breathe. His chest felt like tight bands of truesteel encased it and his hands were heavy and hot.
*Why am I on the ground? How did I get here?*
As his thoughts slowly coalesced back into normalcy, the groans of his dying Companions filled his ears. He cast his eyes around him as sweat beads dropped from his brow.
*Janos the Proud. Sandred the Sly. Thur, Son of the Moon. So many. They are all dead or dying. We have lost.*
It was the quiet voice that brought him back fully to the present. That average, soft voice that somehow invoked the deepest of tremors in his gut. Ezren was long past the entry to manhood and had known war since he was a child but this… this voice… it *terrified* him. The being behind that voice had pillaged lands for decades and was responsible for the deaths of so many.
"Yes... good. Come back to me, Ezren. I want you to see this. Not because you deserve it but to honor what we once were, so long ago. I want you to witness!"
Summoning the last vestiges of his will, Ezren pushed himself to his hands and knees and then grunted with the effort to get a leg up. He raised his head and saw stars swimming in his view. His ears had a tinny ring in them that made the dying groans around him all the more piteous.
He was bloodied, he was broken, but he was not yet dead. He would continue to fight.
“Balthror… you must not go through with this! It was forbidden from long ago. You must not harness the Winds of Time!”
“Fool! I will not sit by your temple’s *teachings* any longer! Your priests warn and wail out of fear and cowardice of the unknown! I alone have seen what is coming. I alone have seen what lurks in the night. If we are to be strong enough, we must draw from the powers of this world, from the very powers of time and space!”
The dark sorcerer's voice was not deep or particularly loud but Ezren could practically feel the evil madness seeping through his words.
“Balthror, you can’t! You will destroy this world that you claim to love! We were never close, Balthror, but we fought side by side as young men. Why would you do this? Why destroy it all on some nameless fear?”
Balthror just sneered at him and turned to the side, clearly not interested in wasting more time on arguing. He had won. No need to explain more. His eyes centered on the altar in the middle of the stone room.
Atop the altar was a dark orb, a void of all light which hovering above the ancient stones. Balthror's hands started to move rapidly. Sudden lines of light and something... dark... started to flash and twist around his fingers. Bursts of lightning quickly shot out to the void and just as quickly shot back. The temperature in the room plummeted so quickly that Balthror’s spoken words became fog in front of his face.
As Balthror continued his incantations, Ezren slowly steeled his mind against the agony racing through his body, willing himself for one more strike. The hilt of his truesteel sword was inches from his grasp. Balthror’s dark magic gave him protection from most physical blows but maybe, just maybe, a true strike to the head would suffice. Ezren knew that it would not work but he still must try.
With the last ounce of energy in his body, Ezren jumped to his feet with his sword and lunged towards the dark sorcerer. His sword shot out at the head of the being that used to be a mortal man. Ezren poured every bit of his strength into the thrust, willing the sword to pierce the sorceror's eldritch defenses.
The point of the sword stopped suddenly in the air well in front of the dark robed figure. Ezren screamed out at the flaring pain in his wrist and shoulder from the impact of the thwarted blow. He crumpled to the ground, defeated and humiliated. Balthror didn’t even look at Ezren as he continued his dark incantation.
Moments later, the void of darkness expanded rapidly, growing from the size of a man’s fist to something much larger like the mouth of a cave. Lightning shot out of and back into the darkness and the coldness of the air burned Ezren’s lungs. Ezren screamed. He could feel hopelessness settle in his soul like a frozen anchor.
A sudden implosion of air caused Ezren to slam his mouth shut, slicing open his tongue and filling him with the coppery taste of blood. Balthror was thrown back several yards but somehow managed to land with a foot beneath him. He scrambled back to his feet rapidly.
Where the portal had once been stood a man. He looked like no man Ezren had ever seen before. He wore no armor or sword and his clothes were thin. They were made from a material that was unfamiliar to Ezren. The man had stains on his shirt and he was certainly no warrior. Though he looked strong enough, his belly extended far beyond his belt and the man’s awkward stumbling had none of a warrior’s grace. The stranger had a massive beard and wore a strange accoutrement on his head. It was red with white markings and extended over his eyes by several inches.
The man looked around a bit and swore loudly. Though Ezren had never heard this tongue before, he could somehow understand the man’s speech quite clearly though his words came out strange as though the man were sucking on a stone of his throat.
“What in the flying fuck is happening to me? Where the fuck am I? Ahh shit I am going to be late for dinner and the missus is gonna whoop my ass! She’ll think I’ve been drinking with Billy again! Fuck!”
This seemingly tirade at himself continued on for several more moments as the man looked around while occasionally spitting a brown substance on the stone floor of the ancient temple. The tirade stopped when Balthror coughed loudly and began to speak.
“And who are you? Some champion that the Absent Gods have summoned to do battle with me? Do you not understand? Look around you, fool! I have harnessed the power of Stone and Moon. I have summoned the Nine Beings and chained them to my will. By the power of my Words I have broken the Companions. Ezren the Just lays broken before me, his legendary sword useless in his hands. Fool!”
The man raised the red item on his head just slightly before crossing his arms across his chest over his prodigious gut.
“Listen here, boy. You talk too much. Shut the fuck up. I ain’t got no good goddamn idea what you are going on about but I was just taking a load from ‘tlanta down to the coast when a fucking deer came out of nowhere and I hit a telephone pole. Last thing I knew, some damn ‘lectrical line was hittin my cab and I could feel the sparks flying. Now where the fuck am I?”
Balthror stood still, looking at the man for several long seconds. The silence started to grow ponderous and thick in the room, haltered only by the now occasional groans from one of the Companions unlucky enough to still be living. Finally, Balthror shook himself and barked a laugh.
“The portal. Time and space. You fool! Don’t you see? You are an accident! You are a mistake! You have been mistakenly summoned here. You are no champion! You are a weak wretch that I will cast down and destroy! Prepare yourself for doom!”
Balthror’s otherwise mild voice raised to a howl by the end of his rant, his hands coming up and moving into a complex pattern. Motes of light started to form around his fingertips.
The stranger took a sudden step back and reached behind his back and pulled forth a shiny metal… something. It looked like a miniature club with a handle embedded on the end. The handle was fashioned at an angle so the shiny silver tube pointed to the dark sorcerer. The man sounded somewhat fearful as he responded.
“Now listen here mister. God don’t make no junk so I’m ain’t no damn mistake. I got no beef with you but I don’t like what you just said. Put your hands down and cut the shit or I’ll end you.”
Balthror said nothing and the motes of color grew in size and brightness. Their motion sped up and started to move out in random patterns closer and closer to the stranger.
The man’s eyes widened under the red cloth on his head and he stammered a few times. His thumb pulled something back on club and an audible click resounded in the stone chamber.
“Last warning, mister! I will end you, motherfucker!”
Balthror just roared in response and shoved his hands out in a sudden jerk, sending the motes of lights out at the stranger as fast as a speeding hawk.
There was a sudden **BOOM** and Ezren screamed again in pain as his already damaged ears were overloaded by the echoes of noise in the stone room. Ezren lost consciousness.
CONTINUED
|
I was standing there, blankly looking at him, the "great villain", the "fifth horseman of the apocalypse", the most "evil conception there is", and yet, I could find myself scared, in fact, I was amused, amused by the irony of this situation.
I smiled. It was more of a smirk than a smile but I did. I took a deep breath and closes my eyes. Trying to analyze the situation. I was bad, that much I figured out from the start.
Who knew that such a creature lurked underneath the surface of our planet. A being that could absorb the evil from people and use it to power itself up. I had supposedly absorbed all the evil in the world a was able to defeat all the heroes. It should've ended there but I just had to go to New York that week didn't I?
And here was I thinking this kind of things only happen in movies. The person you would expect the least becomes the hero. But am I really the hero in this case? Is this helping my situation or just making it worse?
He looked ready to attack. From his expression I could see he was terrified. Why wouldn't he be? He was almost killed by the other heroes and now this guy comes in front of him acting like he's the final boss.
I knew I could only do one thing. I started running towards him as he was gathering power. This was my only chance. I tackled him with all of my might.
I felt like my soul was being pulled out of my body. It was horrible, and, at the same time, it made me feel liberated.
What happened next was an explosion of nothing.
He had reached it's maximum capacity.
Who would've guessed that me, a notorious serial killer would end up saving the world
|
|
[WP] All the heroes in the world have been beaten by the great evil. The only one who stands between him and destroying the world is you. You have no powers and just happened to be there and witness it all. The evil thinks you are the final boss of heroes.
|
The demon stood in the corridor, flames licking its body. Its glowing red eyes bore a malice of ages, a contempt that had festered in the bowels of the underworld for aeons. Smoke billowed from its nose, curling up to the ceiling in acrid yellow clouds.
"Who dares to stand in the way of D'thora, destroyer of worlds?" his deep, gravelly bass voice boomed. "Which fool chooses to challenge my will?"
I sucked on the end of my toothpick, deliberately making the asshole wait for my reply.
It's all about power dynamics, dude.
"Name's Bob," I finally replied.
The demon's face went from one of undisguised contempt to one of irritation and confusion.
"Bob?" he asked.
"Bob," I replied.
The demon paused, the look of confusion becoming more intense.
"Bob what? Bob the reaper? Bob the light guardian? Bob, the eternal defender of the people?"
I paused once again, before replying.
"Nope. Just Bob."
The demon's gaze fell from my face, and he stared at the floor, evidently lost in thought.
"Odd," he muttered in his gravelly voice. "I don't recall any heroes named Bob. I'm sure my lord would have mentioned it before I started this whole thing."
"Well," I said slowly, as if addressing a child, "That might be because I ain't no hero."
His eyes shot back up to mine. "What do you mean, you aren't a hero?"
"Ain't a hero, plain as that. I'm the custodian."
A wave of understanding washed over the demon's face. "Ahh, I see. You're the guardian of this facility then. It remains under your protection and custody."
"Nuh uh," I said, shaking my head slowly. "I'm just the custodian."
The confusion returned. "I don't understand."
"I... am... the custodian," I said slowly. Caretaker. Janitor. Whatever you wanna call it. I clean the place."
"You... you clean it?" it growled.
"Yup," I replied.
"You are not a hero?"
"Nope."
"Then... nothing stands between me and the artifact! Move aside, mortal!"
"Nope," I said, chewing on the toothpick. "You ain't goin' in there. I just waxed the floor."
"I go where I please!" exploded the demon, charging forward.
I whipped the portal gun from my pocket, firing it at the floor in front of the demon. He tried to stop, but his hooves slipped on the freshly waxed floor, and he slid inside it the hole and into an eternal void. The portal sealed itself with a soft 'pop'.
I smiled to myself. There were some benefits to working at Area 51. But within moments, the smile faded as I realized what had just happened.
"Shit. Now I gotta rewax that part of the floor."
|
I was standing there, blankly looking at him, the "great villain", the "fifth horseman of the apocalypse", the most "evil conception there is", and yet, I could find myself scared, in fact, I was amused, amused by the irony of this situation.
I smiled. It was more of a smirk than a smile but I did. I took a deep breath and closes my eyes. Trying to analyze the situation. I was bad, that much I figured out from the start.
Who knew that such a creature lurked underneath the surface of our planet. A being that could absorb the evil from people and use it to power itself up. I had supposedly absorbed all the evil in the world a was able to defeat all the heroes. It should've ended there but I just had to go to New York that week didn't I?
And here was I thinking this kind of things only happen in movies. The person you would expect the least becomes the hero. But am I really the hero in this case? Is this helping my situation or just making it worse?
He looked ready to attack. From his expression I could see he was terrified. Why wouldn't he be? He was almost killed by the other heroes and now this guy comes in front of him acting like he's the final boss.
I knew I could only do one thing. I started running towards him as he was gathering power. This was my only chance. I tackled him with all of my might.
I felt like my soul was being pulled out of my body. It was horrible, and, at the same time, it made me feel liberated.
What happened next was an explosion of nothing.
He had reached it's maximum capacity.
Who would've guessed that me, a notorious serial killer would end up saving the world
|
|
[WP] All the heroes in the world have been beaten by the great evil. The only one who stands between him and destroying the world is you. You have no powers and just happened to be there and witness it all. The evil thinks you are the final boss of heroes.
|
The demon stood in the corridor, flames licking its body. Its glowing red eyes bore a malice of ages, a contempt that had festered in the bowels of the underworld for aeons. Smoke billowed from its nose, curling up to the ceiling in acrid yellow clouds.
"Who dares to stand in the way of D'thora, destroyer of worlds?" his deep, gravelly bass voice boomed. "Which fool chooses to challenge my will?"
I sucked on the end of my toothpick, deliberately making the asshole wait for my reply.
It's all about power dynamics, dude.
"Name's Bob," I finally replied.
The demon's face went from one of undisguised contempt to one of irritation and confusion.
"Bob?" he asked.
"Bob," I replied.
The demon paused, the look of confusion becoming more intense.
"Bob what? Bob the reaper? Bob the light guardian? Bob, the eternal defender of the people?"
I paused once again, before replying.
"Nope. Just Bob."
The demon's gaze fell from my face, and he stared at the floor, evidently lost in thought.
"Odd," he muttered in his gravelly voice. "I don't recall any heroes named Bob. I'm sure my lord would have mentioned it before I started this whole thing."
"Well," I said slowly, as if addressing a child, "That might be because I ain't no hero."
His eyes shot back up to mine. "What do you mean, you aren't a hero?"
"Ain't a hero, plain as that. I'm the custodian."
A wave of understanding washed over the demon's face. "Ahh, I see. You're the guardian of this facility then. It remains under your protection and custody."
"Nuh uh," I said, shaking my head slowly. "I'm just the custodian."
The confusion returned. "I don't understand."
"I... am... the custodian," I said slowly. Caretaker. Janitor. Whatever you wanna call it. I clean the place."
"You... you clean it?" it growled.
"Yup," I replied.
"You are not a hero?"
"Nope."
"Then... nothing stands between me and the artifact! Move aside, mortal!"
"Nope," I said, chewing on the toothpick. "You ain't goin' in there. I just waxed the floor."
"I go where I please!" exploded the demon, charging forward.
I whipped the portal gun from my pocket, firing it at the floor in front of the demon. He tried to stop, but his hooves slipped on the freshly waxed floor, and he slid inside it the hole and into an eternal void. The portal sealed itself with a soft 'pop'.
I smiled to myself. There were some benefits to working at Area 51. But within moments, the smile faded as I realized what had just happened.
"Shit. Now I gotta rewax that part of the floor."
|
Ezren the Just struggled to breathe. His chest felt like tight bands of truesteel encased it and his hands were heavy and hot.
*Why am I on the ground? How did I get here?*
As his thoughts slowly coalesced back into normalcy, the groans of his dying Companions filled his ears. He cast his eyes around him as sweat beads dropped from his brow.
*Janos the Proud. Sandred the Sly. Thur, Son of the Moon. So many. They are all dead or dying. We have lost.*
It was the quiet voice that brought him back fully to the present. That average, soft voice that somehow invoked the deepest of tremors in his gut. Ezren was long past the entry to manhood and had known war since he was a child but this… this voice… it *terrified* him. The being behind that voice had pillaged lands for decades and was responsible for the deaths of so many.
"Yes... good. Come back to me, Ezren. I want you to see this. Not because you deserve it but to honor what we once were, so long ago. I want you to witness!"
Summoning the last vestiges of his will, Ezren pushed himself to his hands and knees and then grunted with the effort to get a leg up. He raised his head and saw stars swimming in his view. His ears had a tinny ring in them that made the dying groans around him all the more piteous.
He was bloodied, he was broken, but he was not yet dead. He would continue to fight.
“Balthror… you must not go through with this! It was forbidden from long ago. You must not harness the Winds of Time!”
“Fool! I will not sit by your temple’s *teachings* any longer! Your priests warn and wail out of fear and cowardice of the unknown! I alone have seen what is coming. I alone have seen what lurks in the night. If we are to be strong enough, we must draw from the powers of this world, from the very powers of time and space!”
The dark sorcerer's voice was not deep or particularly loud but Ezren could practically feel the evil madness seeping through his words.
“Balthror, you can’t! You will destroy this world that you claim to love! We were never close, Balthror, but we fought side by side as young men. Why would you do this? Why destroy it all on some nameless fear?”
Balthror just sneered at him and turned to the side, clearly not interested in wasting more time on arguing. He had won. No need to explain more. His eyes centered on the altar in the middle of the stone room.
Atop the altar was a dark orb, a void of all light which hovering above the ancient stones. Balthror's hands started to move rapidly. Sudden lines of light and something... dark... started to flash and twist around his fingers. Bursts of lightning quickly shot out to the void and just as quickly shot back. The temperature in the room plummeted so quickly that Balthror’s spoken words became fog in front of his face.
As Balthror continued his incantations, Ezren slowly steeled his mind against the agony racing through his body, willing himself for one more strike. The hilt of his truesteel sword was inches from his grasp. Balthror’s dark magic gave him protection from most physical blows but maybe, just maybe, a true strike to the head would suffice. Ezren knew that it would not work but he still must try.
With the last ounce of energy in his body, Ezren jumped to his feet with his sword and lunged towards the dark sorcerer. His sword shot out at the head of the being that used to be a mortal man. Ezren poured every bit of his strength into the thrust, willing the sword to pierce the sorceror's eldritch defenses.
The point of the sword stopped suddenly in the air well in front of the dark robed figure. Ezren screamed out at the flaring pain in his wrist and shoulder from the impact of the thwarted blow. He crumpled to the ground, defeated and humiliated. Balthror didn’t even look at Ezren as he continued his dark incantation.
Moments later, the void of darkness expanded rapidly, growing from the size of a man’s fist to something much larger like the mouth of a cave. Lightning shot out of and back into the darkness and the coldness of the air burned Ezren’s lungs. Ezren screamed. He could feel hopelessness settle in his soul like a frozen anchor.
A sudden implosion of air caused Ezren to slam his mouth shut, slicing open his tongue and filling him with the coppery taste of blood. Balthror was thrown back several yards but somehow managed to land with a foot beneath him. He scrambled back to his feet rapidly.
Where the portal had once been stood a man. He looked like no man Ezren had ever seen before. He wore no armor or sword and his clothes were thin. They were made from a material that was unfamiliar to Ezren. The man had stains on his shirt and he was certainly no warrior. Though he looked strong enough, his belly extended far beyond his belt and the man’s awkward stumbling had none of a warrior’s grace. The stranger had a massive beard and wore a strange accoutrement on his head. It was red with white markings and extended over his eyes by several inches.
The man looked around a bit and swore loudly. Though Ezren had never heard this tongue before, he could somehow understand the man’s speech quite clearly though his words came out strange as though the man were sucking on a stone of his throat.
“What in the flying fuck is happening to me? Where the fuck am I? Ahh shit I am going to be late for dinner and the missus is gonna whoop my ass! She’ll think I’ve been drinking with Billy again! Fuck!”
This seemingly tirade at himself continued on for several more moments as the man looked around while occasionally spitting a brown substance on the stone floor of the ancient temple. The tirade stopped when Balthror coughed loudly and began to speak.
“And who are you? Some champion that the Absent Gods have summoned to do battle with me? Do you not understand? Look around you, fool! I have harnessed the power of Stone and Moon. I have summoned the Nine Beings and chained them to my will. By the power of my Words I have broken the Companions. Ezren the Just lays broken before me, his legendary sword useless in his hands. Fool!”
The man raised the red item on his head just slightly before crossing his arms across his chest over his prodigious gut.
“Listen here, boy. You talk too much. Shut the fuck up. I ain’t got no good goddamn idea what you are going on about but I was just taking a load from ‘tlanta down to the coast when a fucking deer came out of nowhere and I hit a telephone pole. Last thing I knew, some damn ‘lectrical line was hittin my cab and I could feel the sparks flying. Now where the fuck am I?”
Balthror stood still, looking at the man for several long seconds. The silence started to grow ponderous and thick in the room, haltered only by the now occasional groans from one of the Companions unlucky enough to still be living. Finally, Balthror shook himself and barked a laugh.
“The portal. Time and space. You fool! Don’t you see? You are an accident! You are a mistake! You have been mistakenly summoned here. You are no champion! You are a weak wretch that I will cast down and destroy! Prepare yourself for doom!”
Balthror’s otherwise mild voice raised to a howl by the end of his rant, his hands coming up and moving into a complex pattern. Motes of light started to form around his fingertips.
The stranger took a sudden step back and reached behind his back and pulled forth a shiny metal… something. It looked like a miniature club with a handle embedded on the end. The handle was fashioned at an angle so the shiny silver tube pointed to the dark sorcerer. The man sounded somewhat fearful as he responded.
“Now listen here mister. God don’t make no junk so I’m ain’t no damn mistake. I got no beef with you but I don’t like what you just said. Put your hands down and cut the shit or I’ll end you.”
Balthror said nothing and the motes of color grew in size and brightness. Their motion sped up and started to move out in random patterns closer and closer to the stranger.
The man’s eyes widened under the red cloth on his head and he stammered a few times. His thumb pulled something back on club and an audible click resounded in the stone chamber.
“Last warning, mister! I will end you, motherfucker!”
Balthror just roared in response and shoved his hands out in a sudden jerk, sending the motes of lights out at the stranger as fast as a speeding hawk.
There was a sudden **BOOM** and Ezren screamed again in pain as his already damaged ears were overloaded by the echoes of noise in the stone room. Ezren lost consciousness.
CONTINUED
|
|
[WP] You are a guy on a bus eating a sandwich. Some guy sits beside you and accidentally knocks your sandwich to the floor. Oh boy are you ever upset about it.
|
*"What have you done?"*
"Oh geez I'm so sorry, that sandwich looked delicious I'll-"
*"You have no idea what you've just done, do you?"*
"I'll pay you back as soon as we're off the bus, I swear it was-"
*"Those were my mother's ashes."*
"What?"
*"When people die sometimes they get incinerated in a special oven instead of getting buried."*
"I'm aware what cremation is. But that was a just sandwich."
*"She's not JUST a sandwich she was my mother!"*
"Jesus Christ dude were you going to eat your mother's ashes?"
*"No you sick freak! My mother was interested in the dark arts so this was required"*
"Wait wait, so she was going to curse you or something if you didn't put her in a sandwich."
*"No you idiot."*
"Well I'm lost."
*"Don't you see? My mother was a witch, so we cremated her in to sand and put her between two pieces of bread. She literally WAS the sand-witch."*
"Get help sir"
|
"Oh my GOD! That was my fuckin lunch ya nitwit mongoloid dickhead," I practically snarled at the guy, leaning forward and hopelessly picking at the scattered remains on the bus floor.
I scoffed in furious disbelief before straightening back up and taking a closer look at the stranger sitting beside me. It was a testament to how outraged I really was -- and a testament to the strength of the hangover storming my brain like the beach at Normandy -- that I didn't scream and scramble to a new seat immediately.
Or off of the bus entirely.
The man sitting beside me *had no face*. No, that wasn't entirely true. As he turned towards me I saw that the left side of his face was still present; the right side of it which had been turned towards me was a worm-eaten, decomposed mess. As I watched the tiny ugly face of a ratlet peeked from the man's filthy, grime-filled suit pocket.
That was another thing. The guy was dressed like he'd just come from a wedding, that was my first thought. And my second was far more spine-tingling.. He also looked like he might have just come from a funeral. He looked a hell of a lot more like that.
"Have you.." I cleared my throat, not liking how small, squeaky.. and scared my voice had sounded at first. "Have you ever seen a movie called *The Dark Knight*?"
The man stared at me, his left eye - it was a pleasantly light baby blue I thought to myself with a kind of hysterically insane nonchalance - blinking without concern. Meanwhile, there was a red ruin, an empty socket.. where his right eye should have been.
I had been attempting to smile and make conversation for some reason.. Maybe my mind was still trying to reboot from a precautionary shutdown upon first seeing Mr. Two Face.
"Why so serious?" this guy, this... impossibility croaked quietly with what remained of his lips.
|
|
[WP] A murder mystery where every character believes themself responsible for the death, and tries to cover it up.
|
*Didn't stick the script too well. Thought I would post it anyway!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“God dammit who do you work for? Who are you covering for Max?” The detective had not slept well for the last week. Miranda had been murdered and no one they interviewed had given them any good information. Max was found wandering outside of the building where the murder happened mumbling about Miranda.
“I watched her die. She was so sad.” Max said.
“Who killed her Max? If she was sad then you should tell us who it was!” he shouted at the man. Max had to be restrained in the chair, he had thrown himself against every surface in an attempt to end his life.
“I did.” Max said in a short staccato fashion rocking in his seat.
“We have gone over this Max, we can see you on the video footage. The entire time we can see you standing in the corner of the room. All the lights go out and a second after that you ran out the door where other eyewitnesses confirm you stayed.” The detective had grown impatient. “Why would you kill Miranda anyway?”
Shrinking Max sloughed in his chair. He had stopped rocking back and forth and stared blankly at the ground. The detective tried to snap him out of it but there was no use.
“I’m done with him.” The detective said to his colleague. Walking towards the door he could hear Max still trying to free himself from his restraints.
Just days ago Miranda had come to him seeking help. She had told him that someone was following her. She had not seen anyone but could feel the presence of someone watching her every move. Suddenly she would wake up, still walking but in unfamiliar parts of town. Convinced that someone had been placing drugs in her drinks and following her until she lost control to the drug she went to the only person she thought could help.
Suddenly a scream came from behind him and he spun around to see Max in tears.
“I stabbed her in the chest! How can you not see the blood that still covers my hands.” Max said hysterically. The detective had heard this already and continued into the hallway.
They had found Miranda without any obvious wounds. Max was one of the detective’s men and had been following her to the last place she had been awake, the building where she was then found dead. The cause was determined to be blunt trauma to the back of her head.
Maria, Miranda’s best friend, was in the next room. She had gone with the other two out of concern for Miranda’s health. She had seen her friend grow weary from the feeling of constantly being followed. Although she gave no more help than Max on determining what happened in the building she was in a more stable condition. The detective took a deep breath before entering the room.
“Maria, can you tell me anything new about your friend?” he calmly asked as he slid in the chair in front of her. His colleagues said that Maria had seemed more cooperative recently, maybe she could start to clear this up for him.
“Miranda was not there that day?” She said almost puzzled at the detectives question. “I killed her when she came at me with a knife the day before.”
“Maria, your family all says they were with you the day before. We saw Miranda with you and Max walking into the building that day.” The detective’s shoulders slumped as he responded.
“No, no!” Tears welling in her eyes. It seemed like she believed everything she was saying.
He couldn’t take this anymore, he left. Shaking his head the detective strolled down the hallway. If you looked close you could see the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.
That night the detective was at his house washing his hands in the bathroom when he felt it. Looking into the mirror he saw the figure slowly emerge from behind him. A cloud of black smoke forming above his shoulder.
“Good work” the figure said, sending a chill down the man's spine.
“What do you want from me?” The detective choked out the words.
Laughing the figure melted back into a smoke that creeped around the man as tears fell from his face. Looking through the mirror he could see the truth. He had been in the building that day when the other two arrived. Miranda was not with them. Instead, where Miranda was supposed to be he saw it. The figure that now tormented his nightmares and haunted him during the day.
|
Another scream rang out. Julia, the person who I has drove to commit suicide. My horrible ways to her must of affected her more than I thought. Why was I murdering them? I wish I could answer that question, but it's what I'm trying to figure out too.
That time when Jacob claimed he was getting murdered? That was probably the trap I placed town, clamping the victims legs and squeezing them in agony, not killing until every last drip of blood runs out.
All the time, I've been trying to cover up my murders. Luckily, everybody else has been acting really suspicious... as if they themselves were the murderer. But I know the truth. My knife plunged into Margaret's stomach, twisting her intestines about. I couldn't stop myself, everything was just a blur. I had no control, I felt nothing during the time.
Next on the list was Harry. I tried ripping the list apart, throwing my knife in the trashcan. But somehow... It always found its way back to me. I promptly stuffed Harry into a box, sealing away any breathing room. It was probably only a few hours until he died.
My mother and father would be depressed, angered, hell I can't think of words to describe their fury that I, Amelia, would grow up to be a murderer. I looked down at my list:
- ~~Jacob~~
- ~~Julia~~
- ~~Margaret~~
- ~~Harry~~
- George
- Angela
- AND NEVER AMELIA HAHAHAHAHHA
It was time to go back to bed... everything was so tiresome and I really didn't want to wake up. The bed felt comfortable, like the one at the place I called home.
It was the next day. I was in a white room with no windows, a mouse trap on the floor and a little bed.
"Patient 3243, Amelia. We need to talk to you."
"Patients 432, 5678, 219, 8464, 10234 and 753, otherwise know as Jacob, Julia, Margaret, Harry, George and Angela, you will have to wait until we have your sanity check."
|
|
[WP] A murder mystery where every character believes themself responsible for the death, and tries to cover it up.
|
When we awoke, we were sitting at a long, elegant dining table. Only instead of a feast, all that we saw before us was one thing.
The corpse.
In truth, it was less of a dead body than it was meat in a vaguely human shape. The wrists appeared to have been slashed so that it seemed as though great gaping gills dotted his pale arms. His belly was skewered with a dagger. His legs had been crushed under the weight of an immense stone that, upon closer inspection, appeared to have been pushed from the balcony above us. His head had been bashed in so that the look of surprise on his concave skull was strangely stretched out. It was almost as though a cartoony mallet had been the weapon of choice. His throat bulged as though someone had crammed something large into it to cut off his air supply. There was no smell, though. Someone had neatly vacuum packed the entire grisly affair, stone and all.
As we all watched, a bubble of seawater, complete with a small fish, bubbled out of his mouth, and it became very obvious to all of us that somehow, despite the impossibility of the statement, he'd been drowned.
"Ok, class," I said, looking at the others, "this is the final test before you receive your coroner's certification."
"But," sputtered a man with a panicked expression on his face, "didn't we all-"
I grinned, my mouth stretching into a grin that silenced him instantly. "Find cause of death, and you find the murderer. So, then, which one of you will it be, while the rest of you go free? You have five hours."
|
Another scream rang out. Julia, the person who I has drove to commit suicide. My horrible ways to her must of affected her more than I thought. Why was I murdering them? I wish I could answer that question, but it's what I'm trying to figure out too.
That time when Jacob claimed he was getting murdered? That was probably the trap I placed town, clamping the victims legs and squeezing them in agony, not killing until every last drip of blood runs out.
All the time, I've been trying to cover up my murders. Luckily, everybody else has been acting really suspicious... as if they themselves were the murderer. But I know the truth. My knife plunged into Margaret's stomach, twisting her intestines about. I couldn't stop myself, everything was just a blur. I had no control, I felt nothing during the time.
Next on the list was Harry. I tried ripping the list apart, throwing my knife in the trashcan. But somehow... It always found its way back to me. I promptly stuffed Harry into a box, sealing away any breathing room. It was probably only a few hours until he died.
My mother and father would be depressed, angered, hell I can't think of words to describe their fury that I, Amelia, would grow up to be a murderer. I looked down at my list:
- ~~Jacob~~
- ~~Julia~~
- ~~Margaret~~
- ~~Harry~~
- George
- Angela
- AND NEVER AMELIA HAHAHAHAHHA
It was time to go back to bed... everything was so tiresome and I really didn't want to wake up. The bed felt comfortable, like the one at the place I called home.
It was the next day. I was in a white room with no windows, a mouse trap on the floor and a little bed.
"Patient 3243, Amelia. We need to talk to you."
"Patients 432, 5678, 219, 8464, 10234 and 753, otherwise know as Jacob, Julia, Margaret, Harry, George and Angela, you will have to wait until we have your sanity check."
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[WP] A murder mystery where every character believes themself responsible for the death, and tries to cover it up.
|
“I swear, I didn’t do anything.” The girl gulped. “I have an alibi.”
“Sure you do Brooks.” A woman growled, placing the tips of her fingers to the table and scowling. “I’ve got several officers checking out your story, but for now, honestly I want you out of my sight.” Her detective badge glimmered against fluorescent light as she lifted the girl out of her chair and handed her over to one of the officers standing by.
“Lord almighty.” She huffed, slumping back into her chair as soon as the interrogation room was empty. Hesitantly, she glanced down as the gun holstered at her hip. Was this wrong? Trying to pass off her own crime onto another poor soul? If she really was the one to shoot Tommy Winters... this was the only way to keep her kids out of the system, they couldn’t lose her from one mistake. She’d just have to pass the blame off on someone hopeless.
“Anne?” The door swung open lightly and a dark head peered in. “We’ve got Sam Gallardo for you in room 3. Says he didn’t have anything to do with it, but the warrant to search his phone cleared and we found something interesting in his search history.”
The man dropped a file in front of Anne and she flipped through it.
“Kid searched up, how to lay low if you killed someone, just a few hours after Tommy was killed. Sam’s our guy.” He grinned.
“Thanks Lee.” She smiled, giving his cheek a pat on her way out the door.
“Anything for you.” He whispered to himself, glancing after her as she walked off. Looks like she still didn’t suspect him...good. No way she would feel for him if she knew he’d killed a man. The evidence he’d planted on Sam Gallardo’s phone was working it’s magic.
As he followed Anne’s lead out of the room, he saw her glancing in at Gia Brooks, Anne had seemed really suspicious of her almost immediately, which struck Lee as odd, but Anne Fergus always had her reasons.
“I heard you’ve got something on Sammie G. You gonna release me now lady?” Gia spat as Anne walked by.
“No chance in hell little girl.” She growled back.
Gia watched as the detective walked past her holding cell. Hopefully whatever they had on Sam was enough to outweigh whatever they had on her. She’d been so careful not to be seen as she fled from the crash scene, but how was she supposed to know that Tommy was gonna die when she hit him. Hopefully they didn’t ever check on her car.
The last thing Gia heard from the detective was “Samuel Gallardo! I want a word with you.” As she threw open the door to the interrogation room, spun the chair around, sat, and leaned forward into the chair’s back.
“What’s this?” She asked, dropping the folder and pointing to the picture of his search history.
“I didn’t search that,” He replied flatly.
“Well then who did smart guy?”
“Hell if I know. You have any idea how much my phone gets passed around during the day? All the sweet ladies want to give me their digits and you know I’m not about to turn their pretty faces away.”
Anne scrunched her nose up tight in disgust.
“Detective Fergus?” A voice paged into the the room, it was the coroner.
Anne eyed Sam up and down, “Don’t do anything stupid til I get back.”
“But once you’re back here I can be as moronic as I want?” He snickered, mentally high fiving himself as she made her quick exit.
Everything was going smoothly for Sam so far. He’d gotten under her skin, hadn’t broken his cool, and had a reasonable excuse for why that would be in his search history. As long as they didn’t start getting too nosy and start sniffing around his garage, he’d be fine. God forbid, if Tommy Winters died from his supply, it wouldn’t be his fault. However, the cops wouldn’t see it that way.
“What is it Maxus?” Anne murmured, pulling the coroner aside.
He handed her a sheet of paper, the coroners report. “I found something interesting. Yes, Tommy was in a car crash and shot,” Anne winced, “the night of the murder, but that didn’t kill him.”
“It didn’t?” She was baffled, perhaps it wasn’t her fault?
“No, he also had an exceptionally large amount of methamphetamine in his system, but that didn’t do it either. What got to him first, was enough tranquilizer to knock out a herd of elephants.”
“Tranquilizer?” Anne was near speechless. Who in town had access to that in such a large quantity?
“Yes ma’am. Looks like you didn’t do it after all.” The coroner winked as he turned to walk away.
“What? You know that I?”
“Please, you’re the only person I know who packs this kind of heat.” He tossed the bullet into their air like a coin, and snatched it back into his fist.
“Max? Isn’t that evidence that you’re playing with?”
“Only if you want it to be.” He turned to face her, a single eyebrow raised.
Anne smile, dragging her fingers across her lips as if zipping them, Maxus repeated it back.
“Good luck Detective.” He tipped an imaginary hat and sauntered off.
“Powers that be, give me strength. I’m gonna need it.
————
Apologies if anything was factually incorrect, I didn’t get the chance to do much research before writing this :)
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Another scream rang out. Julia, the person who I has drove to commit suicide. My horrible ways to her must of affected her more than I thought. Why was I murdering them? I wish I could answer that question, but it's what I'm trying to figure out too.
That time when Jacob claimed he was getting murdered? That was probably the trap I placed town, clamping the victims legs and squeezing them in agony, not killing until every last drip of blood runs out.
All the time, I've been trying to cover up my murders. Luckily, everybody else has been acting really suspicious... as if they themselves were the murderer. But I know the truth. My knife plunged into Margaret's stomach, twisting her intestines about. I couldn't stop myself, everything was just a blur. I had no control, I felt nothing during the time.
Next on the list was Harry. I tried ripping the list apart, throwing my knife in the trashcan. But somehow... It always found its way back to me. I promptly stuffed Harry into a box, sealing away any breathing room. It was probably only a few hours until he died.
My mother and father would be depressed, angered, hell I can't think of words to describe their fury that I, Amelia, would grow up to be a murderer. I looked down at my list:
- ~~Jacob~~
- ~~Julia~~
- ~~Margaret~~
- ~~Harry~~
- George
- Angela
- AND NEVER AMELIA HAHAHAHAHHA
It was time to go back to bed... everything was so tiresome and I really didn't want to wake up. The bed felt comfortable, like the one at the place I called home.
It was the next day. I was in a white room with no windows, a mouse trap on the floor and a little bed.
"Patient 3243, Amelia. We need to talk to you."
"Patients 432, 5678, 219, 8464, 10234 and 753, otherwise know as Jacob, Julia, Margaret, Harry, George and Angela, you will have to wait until we have your sanity check."
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[WP] A murder mystery where every character believes themself responsible for the death, and tries to cover it up.
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In the spectral light of the space-between-her-ears, Rachel’s emotions deliberated. Grady, the spurned soulmate, lay twitching on the kitchen tile. He’d taken a hard fall during his latest attempt at reconciliation, and now a pool of crimson blossomed beneath his temple.
Everyone was a suspect.
Many of the emotions pointed will-o-wisp fingers at Rage.
“This wouldn’t be the first time,” they shouted. “He’s hurt others before.”
And it was true. The burly bloke had a tendency to bulldoze Rachel’s senses. Steam sometimes roiled from his nostrils and he bellowed like a T-Rex. Usually his tantrums lead to tear-streaked pillows. Or words Rachel could never reel back through a telephone line. Once, even, he’d driven Rachel so frenzied that she’d actually struck her daughter Tricia. A smack across the cheeks. Nothing over the top, but enough that Guilt shamed him for weeks.
To be quite honest, Rage himself wasn’t sure he was innocent. But he wouldn’t go down without a fight. Amidst the pointing fingers, he puffed out his chest and bellowed:
“It’s Jealousy that done it! Lay off’a me!”
All the streetlight eyes went wide. Murmurs spiderwebbed through the crowd, Emotions rumbled angrily like distant summer thunder. Could it be true? Quite possibly. They had a history, you see. Jealousy made Rachel’s eyes whirl in their sockets. She was always making her do the strangest of things.
“I suppose it’s possible,” Rationalization piped up. “She did see Grady flirting with someone at the gym.”
Everyone gasped. Jealousy slunk in the corner--a slender wisp of sparkler smoke. All the attention made her blush. The other emotions urged her to speak. Reluctantly, she stammered.
“It had only been *one* year, for Christ sakes. Flirting with some low-cut skank after *one. year*. Rachel is raining tears into cartons of ice cream on a nightly basis. I can’t remember the last time she had a night’s sleep. She dodges wellness checks left and right. Meanwhile he... well. He’d always wanted someone with a nice…”
Realization dawned on Jealousy. Perhaps she played a part, sure (she was always working on Rachel subliminally), but she’d never have her *kill* anyone! It was simply not true.
She had to divert the blame. Her eyes darted to potential candidates, before settling at once on a lumbering figure with an upturned chin.
“But what about Vengeance?!” she shrieked.
“Yes! Fair point,” cried Ignorance. “I swore I saw her smile!”
Vengeance swept her cape behind her in sudden offense. Static electricity riveted her hair on end. The emotions nearest her took several steps back.
“Why, the dishonor! I have never been so outraged in...I mean...I would be the first to admit, Grady’s death is a piece of karmic justice. As terrible as that sounds. He *was* supposed to be watching our baby Tricia.”
Murmurs of affirmation.
Over to the left, lanky Sadness squeaked back tears.
“I...it’s shameful to admit. I do sort of feel good…” Vengeance continued. “I suppose it’s possible…”
“I think we’ve heard enough,” Ignorance declared. “A clear cut case. Vengeance for the death of our baby girl.”
Ignorance’s barrel chest puffed out as he continued.
“In a stunning feat of irony, justice has been served to both Grady and Vengeance on this fateful day.”
The other emotions murmured, thankful to be cleared of the charge. In unison, they moved to gather up Vengeance and purge it from Rachel’s consciousness. Her Vengeance would be turned on its head and morphed into slimy, dripping humiliation. A terrible near future loomed on the horizon. Rachel would be locked up behind bars, forever forced to confront the fact that her own sense of misaligned justice had--
“Wait!” A voice echoed off the gleaming walls.
The entirety of the-space-between-her-ears fell silent.
A tiny child--an exact replica of Tricia--stood shaking before the oncoming crowd.
“I’ve messed it all up,” little Grief cried. “Now there’s no going back.”
Ignorance frowned. The blubbery lines of his spotty face rippled and waved. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Are you confessing?
“Yes,” Grief croaked.
Vengeance stooped low, placing a hand on the tiny girl. Her stark features softened as she whispered:
“Did you really do it?”
“He had her eyes,” Grief cried. “The color of sea foam. Every time I looked at them it was like I was seeing Tricia again. Cast strange underneath flashing red and blue.”
Grief began wailing. Soon enough Rage joined in.
“I done it too!” he shrieked. “I can’t control me’self. Tricia was everything."
Jealousy collapsed to the floor.
“Just...the thought of another child...with those eyes...another woman…”
One by one, the emotions found blame within themselves. Upon doing so, they whirled and riveted. They spun around the-space-between-her-ears like spent balloons. The entire foundation of everything began to shake. The lights grew blight and bleary. One by one, they expanded and popped.
It was all too much.
In the kitchen, Rachel collapsed to the floor, tugging on Grady’s lifeless shoe. Tears stung her eyes.
“Get up Grady,” she cried, to no response.
When the terrible red and blue began to flash through her window, the authorities found her hyperventilating over his body.
"I don't know what happened," she stammered on repeat.
"I don't know what happened."
_______________
r/writerscrywhiskey
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Another scream rang out. Julia, the person who I has drove to commit suicide. My horrible ways to her must of affected her more than I thought. Why was I murdering them? I wish I could answer that question, but it's what I'm trying to figure out too.
That time when Jacob claimed he was getting murdered? That was probably the trap I placed town, clamping the victims legs and squeezing them in agony, not killing until every last drip of blood runs out.
All the time, I've been trying to cover up my murders. Luckily, everybody else has been acting really suspicious... as if they themselves were the murderer. But I know the truth. My knife plunged into Margaret's stomach, twisting her intestines about. I couldn't stop myself, everything was just a blur. I had no control, I felt nothing during the time.
Next on the list was Harry. I tried ripping the list apart, throwing my knife in the trashcan. But somehow... It always found its way back to me. I promptly stuffed Harry into a box, sealing away any breathing room. It was probably only a few hours until he died.
My mother and father would be depressed, angered, hell I can't think of words to describe their fury that I, Amelia, would grow up to be a murderer. I looked down at my list:
- ~~Jacob~~
- ~~Julia~~
- ~~Margaret~~
- ~~Harry~~
- George
- Angela
- AND NEVER AMELIA HAHAHAHAHHA
It was time to go back to bed... everything was so tiresome and I really didn't want to wake up. The bed felt comfortable, like the one at the place I called home.
It was the next day. I was in a white room with no windows, a mouse trap on the floor and a little bed.
"Patient 3243, Amelia. We need to talk to you."
"Patients 432, 5678, 219, 8464, 10234 and 753, otherwise know as Jacob, Julia, Margaret, Harry, George and Angela, you will have to wait until we have your sanity check."
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[WP] A murder mystery where every character believes themself responsible for the death, and tries to cover it up.
|
As I hoped I didn't appear too visibly shaken, I quickly interjected into the groups conversation that I thought the death seemed to be a suicide. Everyone appeared to fight over one another for the chance to agree with me. Much to my relief, the matter was settled within seconds and the police were quick to agree with the consensus of a group of 45 people.
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Another scream rang out. Julia, the person who I has drove to commit suicide. My horrible ways to her must of affected her more than I thought. Why was I murdering them? I wish I could answer that question, but it's what I'm trying to figure out too.
That time when Jacob claimed he was getting murdered? That was probably the trap I placed town, clamping the victims legs and squeezing them in agony, not killing until every last drip of blood runs out.
All the time, I've been trying to cover up my murders. Luckily, everybody else has been acting really suspicious... as if they themselves were the murderer. But I know the truth. My knife plunged into Margaret's stomach, twisting her intestines about. I couldn't stop myself, everything was just a blur. I had no control, I felt nothing during the time.
Next on the list was Harry. I tried ripping the list apart, throwing my knife in the trashcan. But somehow... It always found its way back to me. I promptly stuffed Harry into a box, sealing away any breathing room. It was probably only a few hours until he died.
My mother and father would be depressed, angered, hell I can't think of words to describe their fury that I, Amelia, would grow up to be a murderer. I looked down at my list:
- ~~Jacob~~
- ~~Julia~~
- ~~Margaret~~
- ~~Harry~~
- George
- Angela
- AND NEVER AMELIA HAHAHAHAHHA
It was time to go back to bed... everything was so tiresome and I really didn't want to wake up. The bed felt comfortable, like the one at the place I called home.
It was the next day. I was in a white room with no windows, a mouse trap on the floor and a little bed.
"Patient 3243, Amelia. We need to talk to you."
"Patients 432, 5678, 219, 8464, 10234 and 753, otherwise know as Jacob, Julia, Margaret, Harry, George and Angela, you will have to wait until we have your sanity check."
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[WP] A murder mystery where every character believes themself responsible for the death, and tries to cover it up.
|
Mr. Johnson's friends were a varied bunch.
Dr. Sanders was his doctor -- a skillful surgeon who had removed the tumor in his lung. Miss Wilmington was an old friend from St. Mary's, who had too many cats and baked too many cookies. Eva was a beautiful, vivid woman, with a promising acting career. And Jerry was the man's younger brother -- a ne'er do well, living off their father's money.
But they all had one thing in common: they had been betrayed by him.
So when his body was found, not a tear was shed. "He's dead," Jerry announced, faking a quivering lip.
"That's a shame," Dr. Sanders said. *Thank God that old coot is dead!* "Cancer's just such a tragic thing. I worked so hard to remove the entire tumor, but, you know, maybe I left a piece in... by accident, of course!" *He made a fool out of me. To correct my spelling -- in front of my colleagues, my wife! So what, I misspelled 'weird'?! Who cares! Or... 'wierd'? Whatever.*
"Actually, he didn't die from the cancer," Jerry said.
Miss Wilmington stiffened, and wrapped her hand-knit scarf tightly around her neck. "Oh my! I don't... suppose he suffered a terrible allergic reaction?" *I told him, he'd pay for stepping on Mister Friddles!* "I made peanut butter cookies... it must've simply slipped my mind that he's deathly allergic to them... oh, dear..." She feigned a sob, and put her head in her hands.
Eva twirled her long, blonde hair around a finger. "It must have been that terrible fall," she lamented. "Poor thing. We were walking out by the beach --" *and I tripped him --* "and he suddenly tripped on a branch. Fell right into the sidewalk." She fake-blew her nose. *What a dick -- rejecting me! I'm 20 years younger than him -- a good-looking woman, everyone says so... and he had the audacity to say I'm 'not his type'?! Asshole!*
Jerry stood before the three, his knees weak. *I always lived in his shadow. He got the snazzy law degree, the money, the girls, and all of Father's affections. Damn him! Dammit! And the worst part -- I didn't even get to kill him! I gave him too many of his pills, 'by accident', and it actually made him feel* better*!*
Jerry sat down with the rest, his head in his hands.
"While home alone last night, he choked on a peppermint candy."
---
r/CSDouglas
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Another scream rang out. Julia, the person who I has drove to commit suicide. My horrible ways to her must of affected her more than I thought. Why was I murdering them? I wish I could answer that question, but it's what I'm trying to figure out too.
That time when Jacob claimed he was getting murdered? That was probably the trap I placed town, clamping the victims legs and squeezing them in agony, not killing until every last drip of blood runs out.
All the time, I've been trying to cover up my murders. Luckily, everybody else has been acting really suspicious... as if they themselves were the murderer. But I know the truth. My knife plunged into Margaret's stomach, twisting her intestines about. I couldn't stop myself, everything was just a blur. I had no control, I felt nothing during the time.
Next on the list was Harry. I tried ripping the list apart, throwing my knife in the trashcan. But somehow... It always found its way back to me. I promptly stuffed Harry into a box, sealing away any breathing room. It was probably only a few hours until he died.
My mother and father would be depressed, angered, hell I can't think of words to describe their fury that I, Amelia, would grow up to be a murderer. I looked down at my list:
- ~~Jacob~~
- ~~Julia~~
- ~~Margaret~~
- ~~Harry~~
- George
- Angela
- AND NEVER AMELIA HAHAHAHAHHA
It was time to go back to bed... everything was so tiresome and I really didn't want to wake up. The bed felt comfortable, like the one at the place I called home.
It was the next day. I was in a white room with no windows, a mouse trap on the floor and a little bed.
"Patient 3243, Amelia. We need to talk to you."
"Patients 432, 5678, 219, 8464, 10234 and 753, otherwise know as Jacob, Julia, Margaret, Harry, George and Angela, you will have to wait until we have your sanity check."
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[WP] A murder mystery where every character believes themself responsible for the death, and tries to cover it up.
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“I swear, I didn’t do anything.” The girl gulped. “I have an alibi.”
“Sure you do Brooks.” A woman growled, placing the tips of her fingers to the table and scowling. “I’ve got several officers checking out your story, but for now, honestly I want you out of my sight.” Her detective badge glimmered against fluorescent light as she lifted the girl out of her chair and handed her over to one of the officers standing by.
“Lord almighty.” She huffed, slumping back into her chair as soon as the interrogation room was empty. Hesitantly, she glanced down as the gun holstered at her hip. Was this wrong? Trying to pass off her own crime onto another poor soul? If she really was the one to shoot Tommy Winters... this was the only way to keep her kids out of the system, they couldn’t lose her from one mistake. She’d just have to pass the blame off on someone hopeless.
“Anne?” The door swung open lightly and a dark head peered in. “We’ve got Sam Gallardo for you in room 3. Says he didn’t have anything to do with it, but the warrant to search his phone cleared and we found something interesting in his search history.”
The man dropped a file in front of Anne and she flipped through it.
“Kid searched up, how to lay low if you killed someone, just a few hours after Tommy was killed. Sam’s our guy.” He grinned.
“Thanks Lee.” She smiled, giving his cheek a pat on her way out the door.
“Anything for you.” He whispered to himself, glancing after her as she walked off. Looks like she still didn’t suspect him...good. No way she would feel for him if she knew he’d killed a man. The evidence he’d planted on Sam Gallardo’s phone was working it’s magic.
As he followed Anne’s lead out of the room, he saw her glancing in at Gia Brooks, Anne had seemed really suspicious of her almost immediately, which struck Lee as odd, but Anne Fergus always had her reasons.
“I heard you’ve got something on Sammie G. You gonna release me now lady?” Gia spat as Anne walked by.
“No chance in hell little girl.” She growled back.
Gia watched as the detective walked past her holding cell. Hopefully whatever they had on Sam was enough to outweigh whatever they had on her. She’d been so careful not to be seen as she fled from the crash scene, but how was she supposed to know that Tommy was gonna die when she hit him. Hopefully they didn’t ever check on her car.
The last thing Gia heard from the detective was “Samuel Gallardo! I want a word with you.” As she threw open the door to the interrogation room, spun the chair around, sat, and leaned forward into the chair’s back.
“What’s this?” She asked, dropping the folder and pointing to the picture of his search history.
“I didn’t search that,” He replied flatly.
“Well then who did smart guy?”
“Hell if I know. You have any idea how much my phone gets passed around during the day? All the sweet ladies want to give me their digits and you know I’m not about to turn their pretty faces away.”
Anne scrunched her nose up tight in disgust.
“Detective Fergus?” A voice paged into the the room, it was the coroner.
Anne eyed Sam up and down, “Don’t do anything stupid til I get back.”
“But once you’re back here I can be as moronic as I want?” He snickered, mentally high fiving himself as she made her quick exit.
Everything was going smoothly for Sam so far. He’d gotten under her skin, hadn’t broken his cool, and had a reasonable excuse for why that would be in his search history. As long as they didn’t start getting too nosy and start sniffing around his garage, he’d be fine. God forbid, if Tommy Winters died from his supply, it wouldn’t be his fault. However, the cops wouldn’t see it that way.
“What is it Maxus?” Anne murmured, pulling the coroner aside.
He handed her a sheet of paper, the coroners report. “I found something interesting. Yes, Tommy was in a car crash and shot,” Anne winced, “the night of the murder, but that didn’t kill him.”
“It didn’t?” She was baffled, perhaps it wasn’t her fault?
“No, he also had an exceptionally large amount of methamphetamine in his system, but that didn’t do it either. What got to him first, was enough tranquilizer to knock out a herd of elephants.”
“Tranquilizer?” Anne was near speechless. Who in town had access to that in such a large quantity?
“Yes ma’am. Looks like you didn’t do it after all.” The coroner winked as he turned to walk away.
“What? You know that I?”
“Please, you’re the only person I know who packs this kind of heat.” He tossed the bullet into their air like a coin, and snatched it back into his fist.
“Max? Isn’t that evidence that you’re playing with?”
“Only if you want it to be.” He turned to face her, a single eyebrow raised.
Anne smile, dragging her fingers across her lips as if zipping them, Maxus repeated it back.
“Good luck Detective.” He tipped an imaginary hat and sauntered off.
“Powers that be, give me strength. I’m gonna need it.
————
Apologies if anything was factually incorrect, I didn’t get the chance to do much research before writing this :)
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*Didn't stick the script too well. Thought I would post it anyway!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“God dammit who do you work for? Who are you covering for Max?” The detective had not slept well for the last week. Miranda had been murdered and no one they interviewed had given them any good information. Max was found wandering outside of the building where the murder happened mumbling about Miranda.
“I watched her die. She was so sad.” Max said.
“Who killed her Max? If she was sad then you should tell us who it was!” he shouted at the man. Max had to be restrained in the chair, he had thrown himself against every surface in an attempt to end his life.
“I did.” Max said in a short staccato fashion rocking in his seat.
“We have gone over this Max, we can see you on the video footage. The entire time we can see you standing in the corner of the room. All the lights go out and a second after that you ran out the door where other eyewitnesses confirm you stayed.” The detective had grown impatient. “Why would you kill Miranda anyway?”
Shrinking Max sloughed in his chair. He had stopped rocking back and forth and stared blankly at the ground. The detective tried to snap him out of it but there was no use.
“I’m done with him.” The detective said to his colleague. Walking towards the door he could hear Max still trying to free himself from his restraints.
Just days ago Miranda had come to him seeking help. She had told him that someone was following her. She had not seen anyone but could feel the presence of someone watching her every move. Suddenly she would wake up, still walking but in unfamiliar parts of town. Convinced that someone had been placing drugs in her drinks and following her until she lost control to the drug she went to the only person she thought could help.
Suddenly a scream came from behind him and he spun around to see Max in tears.
“I stabbed her in the chest! How can you not see the blood that still covers my hands.” Max said hysterically. The detective had heard this already and continued into the hallway.
They had found Miranda without any obvious wounds. Max was one of the detective’s men and had been following her to the last place she had been awake, the building where she was then found dead. The cause was determined to be blunt trauma to the back of her head.
Maria, Miranda’s best friend, was in the next room. She had gone with the other two out of concern for Miranda’s health. She had seen her friend grow weary from the feeling of constantly being followed. Although she gave no more help than Max on determining what happened in the building she was in a more stable condition. The detective took a deep breath before entering the room.
“Maria, can you tell me anything new about your friend?” he calmly asked as he slid in the chair in front of her. His colleagues said that Maria had seemed more cooperative recently, maybe she could start to clear this up for him.
“Miranda was not there that day?” She said almost puzzled at the detectives question. “I killed her when she came at me with a knife the day before.”
“Maria, your family all says they were with you the day before. We saw Miranda with you and Max walking into the building that day.” The detective’s shoulders slumped as he responded.
“No, no!” Tears welling in her eyes. It seemed like she believed everything she was saying.
He couldn’t take this anymore, he left. Shaking his head the detective strolled down the hallway. If you looked close you could see the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.
That night the detective was at his house washing his hands in the bathroom when he felt it. Looking into the mirror he saw the figure slowly emerge from behind him. A cloud of black smoke forming above his shoulder.
“Good work” the figure said, sending a chill down the man's spine.
“What do you want from me?” The detective choked out the words.
Laughing the figure melted back into a smoke that creeped around the man as tears fell from his face. Looking through the mirror he could see the truth. He had been in the building that day when the other two arrived. Miranda was not with them. Instead, where Miranda was supposed to be he saw it. The figure that now tormented his nightmares and haunted him during the day.
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[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
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When it first showed up to our sensors, everyone thought it was just an interested asteroid. Sure, it was oblong, and one of the first we'd ever observed, but it was hardly anything special. People speculated that it was an alien ship, but no one really believed it.
That is, until it spontaneously reversed it's trajectory. One day, it was headed out of the solar system faster than any man made craft. The next, it was hurtling towards Earth with unnatural precision.
The impact alone wiped out Canada and part of the USA. Debris clouded the atmosphere, and the world went dark. It was few month before it began to spread.
It wasn't just a space rock or a ship. It was *alive*. And it was hungry. It spread like rot, sucking the life out of everything it touched. Concrete disintegrated, steel corroded to dust, and flames did nothing. Wherever it went, it spewed noxious, toxic gas. Scientists recognized it as a terraforming device. We called it the Plague.
People died in their homes, refusing to leave. People stuck in the traffic of evacuation found themselves trapped in a ring of the creeping rot. It seemed to seek out life, so that it could trap it and kill it. High altitude flight was impossible due to debris, and low altitude was incredibly dangerous, because the gas that permeated the atmosphere above the Plague was impossible to filter.
The human population steadily shrank, until the only free continent left was Australia. There were less than 10,000 of us when it happened. People began exhibiting strange power. Some could read minds. Others could teleport. Still others controlled the elements. I had the ability to fly. One thing that everyone had in common, however, was to share their energy with each other, from any distance, to boost one another's power.
Eventually, one man was found with the power to destroy the Plague.
His power was unique. It looked like raw energy, and it erased any Plague it came in contact with. He fired it from his hands as beams and blasts of blue or yellow light. Humanity immediately knew what they had to do.
I was one of a team sent with him, comprised of myself, two other fliers, a wind mage to clear the air, a telepath to communicate remotely, and the man himself. Our mission was to fly to the source of the Plague to destroy it once and for all.
The flight was short. In less than a day, we reached the origin. It was the only feature in a smooth, shiny black wasteland. A pillar of darkness, like a monument to humanities destruction.
At his command, the telepath broadcast his speech to the rest of humanity. I was the one flying him, and I'll never forget his words.
As he raised his arms above his head, he bellowed at the top of his lungs.
"PEOPLE OF EARTH! *LEND ME YOUR ENERGY*!"
Fukin' weebs.
|
The problem with humans is their curiosity. Even after a new species from the stars reigns hell upon every continent, impaling billions on the ends of their spears, curiosity still prevails. When enough people finally lay dead in the streets the survivors came to a realization. Every time someone died it allowed a little more magic to flow through the human race's veins. Bringing us back to the plight and pillar of humanity, curiosity. Or more specifically the curiosity of one Oleg Bishopi, Ph.D. and the charming young girl just waking up among the piles of medical equipment and samples strewn across his basement.
"Wonderful" The Doctor cheered through a thick accent, "We can begin"
"Mmmph" responded the girl through tightly wrapped bandages. Her eyes were wide with fear, something restraining her neck forcing her gaze to the ceiling. She tried to move her legs and felt something entirely new. She attempted to kick her leg and instead felt four legs react. Each one longer than they should be. She tried the other to the same response, only on the other side.
"Your name is Platythomisus Sapien and I am your father" The Doctor stated.
The girl looked at him for a moment, searching for some piece of information to cling onto. An immediate feeling in her chest told her opposite. A moment in time flashed through her mind, cheap birthday streamers clinging to the walls, a handmade lopsided cake, and her father. A tall man in a light green button down, his brown hand on her shoulder with a smile behind his thick mustache. She opened her eyes again, the man in front of her was not her father. His skin was akin to snow, and he had the figure of a beer bottle. He wore a light blue coat that reached his ankles with an apron over top, slick with blood. Thick rubber gloves clung to his hand.
"You'll notice the improvements" He smiled, gesturing towards her lower half.
She jerked against the instrument around her neck. The doctor made a small noise as if just remembering her restraints. He paced over to her and placed a gloved hand around her neck, the other behind her. She heard a click, and suddenly her head was free. She stared down. Her stomach was bare. Her eyes crept down to her waistline, where her skin abruptly became a sickening yellow. Her legs were gone, instead, a large mass took their place. The yellow mass held large black dots across it. Eight spindling legs stretched out with three joints each. At the second joint the leg shifted to a jet black. She screamed.
"Silence, girl" The doctor commanded.
She did not quiet. She flailed her many legs and ripped at her own waist, trying to break free. The doctor stumbled backward. She tore off the restraint at her neck. The doctor began to scramble through his desk. The girl shoved a hand into her waist, amazed at her own strength. Hot blood trickled onto her new arachnid bottom. She pushed hard, a ripping pain seared through her. She screamed louder. The doctor retrieved a needle and thrust it into a nearby bottle.
"I SAID SILENCE!" He cried back.
She grabbed the back of his neck with her bloodied hand. She slammed him into the cement wall. The sound of snapping bones rang out.
"Why" She grunted, holding her other hand against her fresh wound.
"You already had the magic" He began, trying to pull his head free from the cement. "You could summon spiders. This was just an experi-"
The girl pushed him harder. Another cracking sound, she dropped the limp body. She stared back down at herself. A disgusting body covered in blood. The crimson was starting to dry across the bright yellow legs. Her heart sank when she looked down at the man. *Did I mean to?*, she asked herself. It felt like a weight on a hook, dragging her stomach into the floor. She clenched her fists and felt hot tears stream down her face. She leaned on to the wall and sobbed. Her legs seemed to adjust by themselves, almost on instinct. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away as she sank to the floor, more blood smearing across the cement into a floor drain at the center of the room. A light flashed into the room as the one metal door swung open. A boy stepped through, a rifle in his hands prodding the room. He glanced down and yelled out. The girl could hear footsteps down the hall. An older man, a greying beard framing his face, stepped through holding a pistol. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. He turned away for a moment to look at the boy, who in turn was unable to take his eyes off the girl attached to such a horrific abomination. Both seemed too shaken to act. Finally, the boy walked over, gun still firmly in hand. He grabbed the light blue coat hanging off the doctor's corpse and handed it to the girl. She pulled it around her torso and looked down at her wound. The boy almost jumped back.
"Dad" He said "We need to take her to the medicine men"
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
There was a shiver creeping its was up my spine, slowly poking at every nerve it crossed. The frequency of the shivers has kept increasing... I’m I think I’m starting to figure out why.
A few days ago, my squad and I had retraced our steps while crossing the Alps, seeking refuge is a cave just a couple hundred feet down the western mountain side. A major blizzard heading toward us, there was going to be no way for us to push through to the Eastern War front in Austria without some of us freezing to death. Anyway, that night is when the Awakening happened. Half of us were asleep, the others on guard, waiting, watching for signs of extraterrestrial life; Zens to be more precise. They showed up only a couple of months ago and already an estimated 880 million people have died. I don’t know the true scientific name for them, but I do know they are a force to be reckoned with. Twice the size of the average human and five times as strong. Bullets can hurt them if you hit the right spot, but even then, they don’t go down easy. We just carry our rifles around to feel a bit safer.
As the night shift took their posts, the rest of us took to our sleep, but not for long. After just 2 hrs of our bodies shocked us awake. I myself awoke to a small fire balls dancing around my finger-tips.
“Oh shit! Jesus, somebody help!” I shouted, flailing my hand around, trying to pat out the flames on my blanket, but it just burst into ashes.
Nobody came, and for a moment, things went silent for me. I took a look around the room. Some of the watch and some of the sleepers, all reacting the same as I was. Stan was bent over, hold a hand full of icicles. Marks arm was sparking with electricity. Jack was trying to calm Stan down, but Jack’s body was filled with purple spots. Each spot was like looking at a flowing river of dark purple sludge. Richie was keeping his distance from the rest of us. It was in that moment that I looked down at my hand and realized the flames didn’t burn. After using common sense, I realized they weren’t even touching me. As soon as it became clear to me, the flames vanished. I turned my attention back to the group who had all realized the same thing. Everyone had calmed down, but we’re breathing heavily.
“What the hell was that?” asked Mark.
I looked at my hand once more, “I have no goddamned idea.”
“That was fucked up man!” Richie shouted, cowering in the back of the cave, “you guys stay the hell away from me!”
“Richie nobody is gonna hurt you man, just take it easy all rig... Richie... your... shit...” Stan muttered, covering his mouth with one hand and brushing the other over his head.
My head turned to Richie. A circular spot on his blue jacket was darker than the rest, and right in the middle, sticking out of his gut, was an icicle.
Mark and Jack rushed to his side, throwing Richie’s weakened arms out of the way as he tried to block them. All I could do was stand there with Stan. We’d seen death before, some of our closest friends had succumbed to it, it wasn’t new to any of us. Mark and Jack could try anything they wanted, but that icicle was too big, and he was losing too much blood.
Mark was the calm one, “Honestly Rich, it’s not that bad, it’s just a flesh wound,” he tried saying with a smile.
“You really think so Jack, it must feel worse than it looks then,” Richie said with a light chuckle.
You could see it in his eyes, the light fading away. His body and mind going numb. He was accepting his fate... being killed by a friend.
“Richie, stay with me man!” Jack yelled, putting pressure around the wound, “You’re not dying on my you got that!”
“Ha... this ain’t a move Mark... words can’t magically heal me... kill some Zens for me will ya?” Richie spoke his last words.
Richie’s body went limp, his head dropping to the side. That was the first shiver. It was different than the normal shiver of death, it was more like a small shock running from my tailbone to my neck, like a shiver of life. I know everybody else felt it too.
“What now?” Stan muttered.
The others all looked at me, “We move on, and we kill some Zens,” I said, looking down at my hand, the flames reignited, a bit bigger than before.
Part 2: Eastern Battle Front
If enough people want it.
|
The problem with humans is their curiosity. Even after a new species from the stars reigns hell upon every continent, impaling billions on the ends of their spears, curiosity still prevails. When enough people finally lay dead in the streets the survivors came to a realization. Every time someone died it allowed a little more magic to flow through the human race's veins. Bringing us back to the plight and pillar of humanity, curiosity. Or more specifically the curiosity of one Oleg Bishopi, Ph.D. and the charming young girl just waking up among the piles of medical equipment and samples strewn across his basement.
"Wonderful" The Doctor cheered through a thick accent, "We can begin"
"Mmmph" responded the girl through tightly wrapped bandages. Her eyes were wide with fear, something restraining her neck forcing her gaze to the ceiling. She tried to move her legs and felt something entirely new. She attempted to kick her leg and instead felt four legs react. Each one longer than they should be. She tried the other to the same response, only on the other side.
"Your name is Platythomisus Sapien and I am your father" The Doctor stated.
The girl looked at him for a moment, searching for some piece of information to cling onto. An immediate feeling in her chest told her opposite. A moment in time flashed through her mind, cheap birthday streamers clinging to the walls, a handmade lopsided cake, and her father. A tall man in a light green button down, his brown hand on her shoulder with a smile behind his thick mustache. She opened her eyes again, the man in front of her was not her father. His skin was akin to snow, and he had the figure of a beer bottle. He wore a light blue coat that reached his ankles with an apron over top, slick with blood. Thick rubber gloves clung to his hand.
"You'll notice the improvements" He smiled, gesturing towards her lower half.
She jerked against the instrument around her neck. The doctor made a small noise as if just remembering her restraints. He paced over to her and placed a gloved hand around her neck, the other behind her. She heard a click, and suddenly her head was free. She stared down. Her stomach was bare. Her eyes crept down to her waistline, where her skin abruptly became a sickening yellow. Her legs were gone, instead, a large mass took their place. The yellow mass held large black dots across it. Eight spindling legs stretched out with three joints each. At the second joint the leg shifted to a jet black. She screamed.
"Silence, girl" The doctor commanded.
She did not quiet. She flailed her many legs and ripped at her own waist, trying to break free. The doctor stumbled backward. She tore off the restraint at her neck. The doctor began to scramble through his desk. The girl shoved a hand into her waist, amazed at her own strength. Hot blood trickled onto her new arachnid bottom. She pushed hard, a ripping pain seared through her. She screamed louder. The doctor retrieved a needle and thrust it into a nearby bottle.
"I SAID SILENCE!" He cried back.
She grabbed the back of his neck with her bloodied hand. She slammed him into the cement wall. The sound of snapping bones rang out.
"Why" She grunted, holding her other hand against her fresh wound.
"You already had the magic" He began, trying to pull his head free from the cement. "You could summon spiders. This was just an experi-"
The girl pushed him harder. Another cracking sound, she dropped the limp body. She stared back down at herself. A disgusting body covered in blood. The crimson was starting to dry across the bright yellow legs. Her heart sank when she looked down at the man. *Did I mean to?*, she asked herself. It felt like a weight on a hook, dragging her stomach into the floor. She clenched her fists and felt hot tears stream down her face. She leaned on to the wall and sobbed. Her legs seemed to adjust by themselves, almost on instinct. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away as she sank to the floor, more blood smearing across the cement into a floor drain at the center of the room. A light flashed into the room as the one metal door swung open. A boy stepped through, a rifle in his hands prodding the room. He glanced down and yelled out. The girl could hear footsteps down the hall. An older man, a greying beard framing his face, stepped through holding a pistol. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. He turned away for a moment to look at the boy, who in turn was unable to take his eyes off the girl attached to such a horrific abomination. Both seemed too shaken to act. Finally, the boy walked over, gun still firmly in hand. He grabbed the light blue coat hanging off the doctor's corpse and handed it to the girl. She pulled it around her torso and looked down at her wound. The boy almost jumped back.
"Dad" He said "We need to take her to the medicine men"
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
At first, the aliens came in hordes. Wiped out everyone and everything they sensed a heart beat in. I lost my whole family within days, my father was the first to go protecting my older brother, then my mum protecting both of us. My brother and I were on the run for months until we got sloppy, stayed in the same place too long and he died protecting me. Somehow started a fire and took out 6 of those bastard aliens at once, made me proud to be related to him. That was 2 years ago, I’ve been alone ever since.
.
The blood curdling screams of those found make it hard to sleep, the goosebumps that used to cover my skin everytime I heard that scream don’t appear anymore but the knowledge of what is happening to those screaming is a horror in its own. In an effort to drown out those screams I remind myself of the golden rule, move to a new spot every 3 days. When that doesn’t work I focus on my surroundings and close my eyes,I can almost see my surroundings identically in my head. I close my eyes and hope to get some rest for tonight, tomorrow is when I find a new spot.
.
I jolt upright, I swear I heard a noise. Everything in the room I slept in has moved around, somethings been here. I get up slowly, crouch low and move around the house. Searching each and every room, i feel different. As if I feel that the room is empty before turning into it. Through my travels I’ve bumped into other people, traded items, bought weapons and been given food. I’ve also heard stories of survivors manifesting powers, magic even. The ability to summon storms or move water, throw fire or read minds. After determining the house is safe I sit down and close my eyes. I picture the house in my mind and focus as hard as I can. A blueprint like imagine appears in my mind, turning and growing, a 3D image replica of the layout. I can see myself sitting next to the tv, my mind zooms into the room in in. This is some crazy shit, I wonder what else I can do. I picture the tv next to me exploding and I focus as hard as I can.
BOOM.
“Kid! Kid! Wake up!”
Struggling, I wake up but keep my eyes closed. Fuck that was dumb, blowing up the tv right next to myself yeah, nice one idiot.
“Oh thank god he’s awake, he blew up a tv next to himself” I can see the young girl sitting next to me, another man pacing in the corner of the room and another, older female sitting down in a chair. I try to open my eyes and the searing pain becomes obvious in my left eye.
“Glass cut your eye pretty deep, hit the cornea and maybe sliced some nerves. I was only a nursing student so I’m not too sure” the girl says apologetically, I look at her with my right eye and ask her how she knew I blew the tv up, her mother tells me her daughter was a mute her whole life but a couple of months ago she talked for the first time, but it wasn’t with her mouth. It was with her mind. She’s telepathic. They tell me they’ve heard of a colony of people that are gaining powers in the north and that they are heading there, I’m welcome to go with them....
Part 2 if anyone wants it available
|
The problem with humans is their curiosity. Even after a new species from the stars reigns hell upon every continent, impaling billions on the ends of their spears, curiosity still prevails. When enough people finally lay dead in the streets the survivors came to a realization. Every time someone died it allowed a little more magic to flow through the human race's veins. Bringing us back to the plight and pillar of humanity, curiosity. Or more specifically the curiosity of one Oleg Bishopi, Ph.D. and the charming young girl just waking up among the piles of medical equipment and samples strewn across his basement.
"Wonderful" The Doctor cheered through a thick accent, "We can begin"
"Mmmph" responded the girl through tightly wrapped bandages. Her eyes were wide with fear, something restraining her neck forcing her gaze to the ceiling. She tried to move her legs and felt something entirely new. She attempted to kick her leg and instead felt four legs react. Each one longer than they should be. She tried the other to the same response, only on the other side.
"Your name is Platythomisus Sapien and I am your father" The Doctor stated.
The girl looked at him for a moment, searching for some piece of information to cling onto. An immediate feeling in her chest told her opposite. A moment in time flashed through her mind, cheap birthday streamers clinging to the walls, a handmade lopsided cake, and her father. A tall man in a light green button down, his brown hand on her shoulder with a smile behind his thick mustache. She opened her eyes again, the man in front of her was not her father. His skin was akin to snow, and he had the figure of a beer bottle. He wore a light blue coat that reached his ankles with an apron over top, slick with blood. Thick rubber gloves clung to his hand.
"You'll notice the improvements" He smiled, gesturing towards her lower half.
She jerked against the instrument around her neck. The doctor made a small noise as if just remembering her restraints. He paced over to her and placed a gloved hand around her neck, the other behind her. She heard a click, and suddenly her head was free. She stared down. Her stomach was bare. Her eyes crept down to her waistline, where her skin abruptly became a sickening yellow. Her legs were gone, instead, a large mass took their place. The yellow mass held large black dots across it. Eight spindling legs stretched out with three joints each. At the second joint the leg shifted to a jet black. She screamed.
"Silence, girl" The doctor commanded.
She did not quiet. She flailed her many legs and ripped at her own waist, trying to break free. The doctor stumbled backward. She tore off the restraint at her neck. The doctor began to scramble through his desk. The girl shoved a hand into her waist, amazed at her own strength. Hot blood trickled onto her new arachnid bottom. She pushed hard, a ripping pain seared through her. She screamed louder. The doctor retrieved a needle and thrust it into a nearby bottle.
"I SAID SILENCE!" He cried back.
She grabbed the back of his neck with her bloodied hand. She slammed him into the cement wall. The sound of snapping bones rang out.
"Why" She grunted, holding her other hand against her fresh wound.
"You already had the magic" He began, trying to pull his head free from the cement. "You could summon spiders. This was just an experi-"
The girl pushed him harder. Another cracking sound, she dropped the limp body. She stared back down at herself. A disgusting body covered in blood. The crimson was starting to dry across the bright yellow legs. Her heart sank when she looked down at the man. *Did I mean to?*, she asked herself. It felt like a weight on a hook, dragging her stomach into the floor. She clenched her fists and felt hot tears stream down her face. She leaned on to the wall and sobbed. Her legs seemed to adjust by themselves, almost on instinct. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away as she sank to the floor, more blood smearing across the cement into a floor drain at the center of the room. A light flashed into the room as the one metal door swung open. A boy stepped through, a rifle in his hands prodding the room. He glanced down and yelled out. The girl could hear footsteps down the hall. An older man, a greying beard framing his face, stepped through holding a pistol. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. He turned away for a moment to look at the boy, who in turn was unable to take his eyes off the girl attached to such a horrific abomination. Both seemed too shaken to act. Finally, the boy walked over, gun still firmly in hand. He grabbed the light blue coat hanging off the doctor's corpse and handed it to the girl. She pulled it around her torso and looked down at her wound. The boy almost jumped back.
"Dad" He said "We need to take her to the medicine men"
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
"Nobody knows exactly how long they've been here. By the time they revealed themselves on that fateful day, it was too late. They had infiltrated every facet of our lives, from our neighbourhoods to our government.
Shapeshifters.
They had been our friends, our co-workers, our in-laws. A small colony had landed originally, but their numbers had increased exponentially. We were outnumbered. We were outfought. We were almost completely eradicated.
Until the awakening.
As children growing up in the Western world, we had heard stories of magic, of witches and wizards. Arthurian legends of Merlin. In the East, tales of Genii were abound. Dismissed as folklore for generations, we had assumed it was all fairy tales, a way for our ancestors to explain what they did not understand. How wrong we were.
There is speculation as to why magic has returned, but nobody really understands. One theory I hear the men discuss is that as the number of humans decreased, their power increased. I saw a film along that premise once. I wonder if I'll ever get to see another film, read another book. I wonder if I'll ever be able to relax again at all. Some think that magic returning is God's way of saving humanity. I'm not buying that. I can't believe in a higher power after what I've seen. Where was their fucking God when the aliens first landed? When their numbers grew? WHEN THEY BUTCHERED OUR FAMILIES IN OUR OWN HOMES?? Fuck God. We are the gods now.
Our resistance is small, but it is not the only one. We like it that way. No outsiders. We had been unable to fight them at first. Against their natural, bug-like form, our bullets are useless. In their human form they could be shot, but they acted just like us, *looked* just like us. You could never tell who was one of them, at least not until the power returned. It gave our eyes a reddish glow, marked us from them. Their alien eyes hadn't been able to pick up on it, and we had taken advantage. We butchered thousands of them before they realised we could tell them apart. It wasn't enough. It's never enough.
Some of us have learnt to harness our power, our magic. We can fight the bugs in their natural form, which is how they spend all of their time now. We can break through their carapaces. We can call in the elements at will, rain down fire and brimstone on them. WE CAN BURN THESE UGLY MOTHERFUCKERS FROM THE INSIDE USING ONLY THE POWER OF THOUGHT!
But they are many, and we are few. And so the battle rages on. I am sending this message out, in the hope that anyone is still listening. In the hope that anyone is still out there at all.
Let us not go down without a fight. They may have us on the back foot for now, but the human race is stronger than you or I ever thought possible! Harness your power! TAKE AS MANY OF THESE ALIEN SONS OF BITCHES DOWN WITH YOU AS YOU CAN!"
*End Transmission*
|
The problem with humans is their curiosity. Even after a new species from the stars reigns hell upon every continent, impaling billions on the ends of their spears, curiosity still prevails. When enough people finally lay dead in the streets the survivors came to a realization. Every time someone died it allowed a little more magic to flow through the human race's veins. Bringing us back to the plight and pillar of humanity, curiosity. Or more specifically the curiosity of one Oleg Bishopi, Ph.D. and the charming young girl just waking up among the piles of medical equipment and samples strewn across his basement.
"Wonderful" The Doctor cheered through a thick accent, "We can begin"
"Mmmph" responded the girl through tightly wrapped bandages. Her eyes were wide with fear, something restraining her neck forcing her gaze to the ceiling. She tried to move her legs and felt something entirely new. She attempted to kick her leg and instead felt four legs react. Each one longer than they should be. She tried the other to the same response, only on the other side.
"Your name is Platythomisus Sapien and I am your father" The Doctor stated.
The girl looked at him for a moment, searching for some piece of information to cling onto. An immediate feeling in her chest told her opposite. A moment in time flashed through her mind, cheap birthday streamers clinging to the walls, a handmade lopsided cake, and her father. A tall man in a light green button down, his brown hand on her shoulder with a smile behind his thick mustache. She opened her eyes again, the man in front of her was not her father. His skin was akin to snow, and he had the figure of a beer bottle. He wore a light blue coat that reached his ankles with an apron over top, slick with blood. Thick rubber gloves clung to his hand.
"You'll notice the improvements" He smiled, gesturing towards her lower half.
She jerked against the instrument around her neck. The doctor made a small noise as if just remembering her restraints. He paced over to her and placed a gloved hand around her neck, the other behind her. She heard a click, and suddenly her head was free. She stared down. Her stomach was bare. Her eyes crept down to her waistline, where her skin abruptly became a sickening yellow. Her legs were gone, instead, a large mass took their place. The yellow mass held large black dots across it. Eight spindling legs stretched out with three joints each. At the second joint the leg shifted to a jet black. She screamed.
"Silence, girl" The doctor commanded.
She did not quiet. She flailed her many legs and ripped at her own waist, trying to break free. The doctor stumbled backward. She tore off the restraint at her neck. The doctor began to scramble through his desk. The girl shoved a hand into her waist, amazed at her own strength. Hot blood trickled onto her new arachnid bottom. She pushed hard, a ripping pain seared through her. She screamed louder. The doctor retrieved a needle and thrust it into a nearby bottle.
"I SAID SILENCE!" He cried back.
She grabbed the back of his neck with her bloodied hand. She slammed him into the cement wall. The sound of snapping bones rang out.
"Why" She grunted, holding her other hand against her fresh wound.
"You already had the magic" He began, trying to pull his head free from the cement. "You could summon spiders. This was just an experi-"
The girl pushed him harder. Another cracking sound, she dropped the limp body. She stared back down at herself. A disgusting body covered in blood. The crimson was starting to dry across the bright yellow legs. Her heart sank when she looked down at the man. *Did I mean to?*, she asked herself. It felt like a weight on a hook, dragging her stomach into the floor. She clenched her fists and felt hot tears stream down her face. She leaned on to the wall and sobbed. Her legs seemed to adjust by themselves, almost on instinct. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away as she sank to the floor, more blood smearing across the cement into a floor drain at the center of the room. A light flashed into the room as the one metal door swung open. A boy stepped through, a rifle in his hands prodding the room. He glanced down and yelled out. The girl could hear footsteps down the hall. An older man, a greying beard framing his face, stepped through holding a pistol. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. He turned away for a moment to look at the boy, who in turn was unable to take his eyes off the girl attached to such a horrific abomination. Both seemed too shaken to act. Finally, the boy walked over, gun still firmly in hand. He grabbed the light blue coat hanging off the doctor's corpse and handed it to the girl. She pulled it around her torso and looked down at her wound. The boy almost jumped back.
"Dad" He said "We need to take her to the medicine men"
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
[Part 1]
When they came, it was not nearly as one would expect; at least not what the average Joe, Jane, Tom, Dick, or Harry would have expected. Aliens meant fantastically futuristic, didn’t it? They were supposed to have arrived in spaceships descending from orbit and raining death upon us with technological supremacy. They might have landed their ships and been humanoids upon emerging from their crafts, wielding laser guns, or something similar, and decimating us with that technology. Perhaps they would have been more beast like, like something from a Geiger painting…right; charging forth in a beast-like frenzy?
For all the world, back in early 2015—still very much a technological age for well over 90 percent of the Earth’s inhabitants—they had come sailing through the skies in what looked like ancient clippers, schooners, and similarly designed ships of wood. Fantastic all right; as in what had resembled the dark peoples that might have made up Sauron’s army from The Lord of The Rings trilogy. There were Orc-like creatures, and those with pointy ears and grey skin like evil Elves, and beserker men and women had come off those ships, washing forth upon our continents with sabres, swords, and bows, slaughtering those who’d gotten in the way. Far worse were the Warlocks; men and women in flowing robes of varying black or red hues, depending on their bent for different schools of magic.
Even with the common soldiers, their armors—we’d come to understand later—had been gifted with runic magic, protecting them as they butchered any careless enough to not run away, who thought glocks and shotguns would save them. Of course, governments around the world ordered jets and attack helicopters on those ships, though their machine guns and missiles exploded harmlessly against lavender colored energy shields. When that didn’t work, larger missile strikes from military bases were tried—again, having no effect on the spelled-ships. It did take well over two years, but the Earth’s population had shrunk drastically with each passing month. Of course, something strange had been realized by the dwindling population. Magic of our own was still there, and much more present as 7 billion became 5 within the first year, and to what must be perhaps less than 1 billion now, though technology had all but ceased to function with destroyed satellites, power plants vaporized, and manufacturing plants amongst the first targets of the invaders. We’re fighting back though, with our own magic, as best we can. Our magic manifests differently though, from person to person. While runes are woven with intricate hand gestures, and spells of power are worked when invoking the right words from our enemy, ours manifests quite differently.
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[Part 2 coming right up, after THESE messages...]
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The problem with humans is their curiosity. Even after a new species from the stars reigns hell upon every continent, impaling billions on the ends of their spears, curiosity still prevails. When enough people finally lay dead in the streets the survivors came to a realization. Every time someone died it allowed a little more magic to flow through the human race's veins. Bringing us back to the plight and pillar of humanity, curiosity. Or more specifically the curiosity of one Oleg Bishopi, Ph.D. and the charming young girl just waking up among the piles of medical equipment and samples strewn across his basement.
"Wonderful" The Doctor cheered through a thick accent, "We can begin"
"Mmmph" responded the girl through tightly wrapped bandages. Her eyes were wide with fear, something restraining her neck forcing her gaze to the ceiling. She tried to move her legs and felt something entirely new. She attempted to kick her leg and instead felt four legs react. Each one longer than they should be. She tried the other to the same response, only on the other side.
"Your name is Platythomisus Sapien and I am your father" The Doctor stated.
The girl looked at him for a moment, searching for some piece of information to cling onto. An immediate feeling in her chest told her opposite. A moment in time flashed through her mind, cheap birthday streamers clinging to the walls, a handmade lopsided cake, and her father. A tall man in a light green button down, his brown hand on her shoulder with a smile behind his thick mustache. She opened her eyes again, the man in front of her was not her father. His skin was akin to snow, and he had the figure of a beer bottle. He wore a light blue coat that reached his ankles with an apron over top, slick with blood. Thick rubber gloves clung to his hand.
"You'll notice the improvements" He smiled, gesturing towards her lower half.
She jerked against the instrument around her neck. The doctor made a small noise as if just remembering her restraints. He paced over to her and placed a gloved hand around her neck, the other behind her. She heard a click, and suddenly her head was free. She stared down. Her stomach was bare. Her eyes crept down to her waistline, where her skin abruptly became a sickening yellow. Her legs were gone, instead, a large mass took their place. The yellow mass held large black dots across it. Eight spindling legs stretched out with three joints each. At the second joint the leg shifted to a jet black. She screamed.
"Silence, girl" The doctor commanded.
She did not quiet. She flailed her many legs and ripped at her own waist, trying to break free. The doctor stumbled backward. She tore off the restraint at her neck. The doctor began to scramble through his desk. The girl shoved a hand into her waist, amazed at her own strength. Hot blood trickled onto her new arachnid bottom. She pushed hard, a ripping pain seared through her. She screamed louder. The doctor retrieved a needle and thrust it into a nearby bottle.
"I SAID SILENCE!" He cried back.
She grabbed the back of his neck with her bloodied hand. She slammed him into the cement wall. The sound of snapping bones rang out.
"Why" She grunted, holding her other hand against her fresh wound.
"You already had the magic" He began, trying to pull his head free from the cement. "You could summon spiders. This was just an experi-"
The girl pushed him harder. Another cracking sound, she dropped the limp body. She stared back down at herself. A disgusting body covered in blood. The crimson was starting to dry across the bright yellow legs. Her heart sank when she looked down at the man. *Did I mean to?*, she asked herself. It felt like a weight on a hook, dragging her stomach into the floor. She clenched her fists and felt hot tears stream down her face. She leaned on to the wall and sobbed. Her legs seemed to adjust by themselves, almost on instinct. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away as she sank to the floor, more blood smearing across the cement into a floor drain at the center of the room. A light flashed into the room as the one metal door swung open. A boy stepped through, a rifle in his hands prodding the room. He glanced down and yelled out. The girl could hear footsteps down the hall. An older man, a greying beard framing his face, stepped through holding a pistol. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. He turned away for a moment to look at the boy, who in turn was unable to take his eyes off the girl attached to such a horrific abomination. Both seemed too shaken to act. Finally, the boy walked over, gun still firmly in hand. He grabbed the light blue coat hanging off the doctor's corpse and handed it to the girl. She pulled it around her torso and looked down at her wound. The boy almost jumped back.
"Dad" He said "We need to take her to the medicine men"
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[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
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[Part 2]
Joe Takada hadn’t been much of a man, not really; he’d been a 120 pounds soaking wet, had glasses, and his brain was the only muscle he’d really developed over his 19 years of life. He liked more intellectual pursuits, and that was all that had mattered to him, before the invaders had come. One his favorite passions had been anime; he almost could not have gotten enough of it. With few friends, and little to no love life to speak of, the intricate stories and fluidity of those anime stories had been more of a friend than most people had been. Dragonball Z, Bleach, Naruto; he would much more like to befriend Goku or Ichigo rather than the real people around him. That’d been in 2015, of course. He would have guessed it was close to the end of 2017 now, and his life was much different. Actually, in a way, he’d like to think himself as something like Trunks though, harkening back to Dragonball Z. He wasn’t in the future, but the present was desolate now, with more buildings hulking piles of rubble than whole now—to Joe it seemed as a mirror to the future Trunks had come from. He’d even taken to wearing a sword on his back, and wearing a purple jacket, much like his favorite character from that anime. After all, he was very much like a character from the pages of Toriyama’s magna.
Joe was powerful now, though not of muscle really, though swordplay had been developing his upper body more than he might have thought. Lots of cardio too; you needed that, when marauding hordes of Orcs, Elves, and humans from another world were out to kill you and everyone else on this planet. There were fighters though, some were wielding magic much like their enemy, some had become something like super heroes, and had even taken to wearing costumes like the tales told through comic books that people had once read and watched in the movie theaters.
He’d almost drifted off to sleep, when the shifting of rubble from what must have been seventy or eighty feet down the hall had sent adrenaline surging through him, instantly rousing him into wakefulness and with a heightened sense of alertness. Uhl’Threka’s band had finally found him. I would have liked to meet them tomorrow morning, but it seems like they can’t wait for their death any longer.
Reaching down to the leylines of magic that had crisscrossed the Earth, Joe had drawn upon it until power surged through him. The only way he could think to describe it was a system more akin to the stories of Naruto. Chakra and chakra gates must have been a real thing, as the magic within him seemed to have manifested in this way. His legs and arms were stronger, and he’d been practicing martial arts, as best he could—he could throw punches and kicks far faster and more powerfully than should have been possible. It was a clumsy system, or style he supposed he should say, developed only through books pilfered from now defunct or destroyed libraries. Masking his power would have been useless, Uhl’Threka was one of the more powerful Warlocks in Oregon; he’d be able to detect the life force of one of the myriad number of rats scuttling through the building, so of course he’d be able to sense even a disguised power such as Joe might be able to make himself appear to be.
“You’ll come out now, Takada-san, so we can have a chat, yes?”
“Actually General Threka, I was going to ask you if you’d care to step outside?”
Joe didn’t let the Warlock make the mock choice though, as he flashed through a tear in the wall of his makeshift room of the week, and out into the night. Though he could see quite well in the dark, a few fires raged in buildings around him, casting a feint red and yellow glow, as well as a nearly full moon casting its own light. So there’d been plenty of illumination to see Uhl’Threka and his minions, as they came outside moments later. Two towering Kordens, the Orc-like creatures that were the true muscle of the invaders armies, stood near to eight feet tall, wicked curved swords in hand as something like smiles played about their brown, brutish faces resembling pigs more than men. Threka even had some magic underlings as well, as three Luden women trailed behind the Warlock, their thin hands already weaving runes about the lumbering beasts. Uhl’Threka himself was slight in stature, though the Warlocks’ magical might was the intimidating factor about the Luden man in a robe of dark scarlet. Even with runeic might playing about them, Joe was concerned little about the Kordens. A moment later, he let Uhl Threka know why.
Joe pushed himself nearly to the limits of his power, and performed flashing leaps, hopping on the chest of the first Korden in less than a blink of an eye, and slashing through its neck in another two or three milliseconds, the head falling to the ground in what seemed as such a slow speed as to be nearly perceived as not moving at all. Joe’s sword flashed again as he vaulted off the now dead Korden, and plunged his blade deep into the brain of the other, making a few dozen slices through it just to be sure. A bolt of purple energy almost touched Joe as he flashed back to almost exactly where he’d been standing before killing Threka’s bodyguards, but it wasn’t quick enough. What must have been a dozen more magic bolts might have killed Joe, if he’d been as weak as Uhl’Threka must have thought him to be. In a blur of motion, he deflected the magic away as if they were mosquitos of light that might have been trying to feast on his blood, deflected away and sent careening into the night.
“Listen Warlock, you know your lackeys can do nothing to me, and I see that your Korden are just about useless to you now, so let’s make this about you and me already.”
Uhl’Threka guffawed loudly at the thought, and Joe let the moment of imagined supremacy be the undoing of the Warlock’s flunkies. He brought a large amount of power into his hands, and threw out green energy beams at Threka’s female mages, felling them in quick, precise strikes. He’d thrown a few more out at Threka himself, in what Joe had hoped would be quick enough, though the Warlock seemed to become as a ghost for a moment, the beams passing harmlessly through him and into the night, destroying parts of a building behind the Luden man with loud crashes of energy meeting stone. The Warlock manifested himself a moment later in the same place with a wicked smile.
“You underestimate my mastery Takada-san, how unfortunate for you. You’ve been quite a bothersome insect, more a wasp than the worm I once thought you to be, to your credit. Wasps can be exterminated almost as easily though, as I’m sure you’re more aware than I, being a true denizen of this world.”
“You know Threka, there are species of insects that can kill a man? Yes, there are ants and wasps, and other insects, that are so poisonous tha,” Joe hoped the talking would be enough of a distraction, as he launched an attack at the Warlock. He’d flashed behind the Luden, only to be knocked aside by a massive flaring of purple-red power. Slamming into a broken down diesel truck, Joe might have slumped to the ground, had the Warlock not materialized in the spot where Joe would have fallen, and clutched at Joe’s throat.
“You’re buzzing and stinging ends here Takada-san. Know that now, even as your life ebbs from you, that I respect you. Until the very end, that’s what the san at the end of your name means in the culture of your homeland, yes…”
A red gloved-hand erupted through Uhl’Threka’s head then, and as Joe hit the ground, panting and gasping for air, he looked up to his savoir, and a smile bloomed across his face. Why hadn’t he reached out to her earlier?
“Well Joe Takada, looks like I’ve forced the argument upon you, haven’t I?”
Linda Johnson, though she referred to herself as Lady Red now, smiled down at him as he still massaged his neck. Joe realized then that she’d been right all along, that there was strength in numbers, that it would take everyone with power to have even a chance of sending the invaders back to wherever they came from.
“Yes, “ his voice still pinched a little from lack of air,” I suppose your right. I suppose it’s time you take me to the Revolt. Let me gather my things, and w-well…thank you; thank you very much.”
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The problem with humans is their curiosity. Even after a new species from the stars reigns hell upon every continent, impaling billions on the ends of their spears, curiosity still prevails. When enough people finally lay dead in the streets the survivors came to a realization. Every time someone died it allowed a little more magic to flow through the human race's veins. Bringing us back to the plight and pillar of humanity, curiosity. Or more specifically the curiosity of one Oleg Bishopi, Ph.D. and the charming young girl just waking up among the piles of medical equipment and samples strewn across his basement.
"Wonderful" The Doctor cheered through a thick accent, "We can begin"
"Mmmph" responded the girl through tightly wrapped bandages. Her eyes were wide with fear, something restraining her neck forcing her gaze to the ceiling. She tried to move her legs and felt something entirely new. She attempted to kick her leg and instead felt four legs react. Each one longer than they should be. She tried the other to the same response, only on the other side.
"Your name is Platythomisus Sapien and I am your father" The Doctor stated.
The girl looked at him for a moment, searching for some piece of information to cling onto. An immediate feeling in her chest told her opposite. A moment in time flashed through her mind, cheap birthday streamers clinging to the walls, a handmade lopsided cake, and her father. A tall man in a light green button down, his brown hand on her shoulder with a smile behind his thick mustache. She opened her eyes again, the man in front of her was not her father. His skin was akin to snow, and he had the figure of a beer bottle. He wore a light blue coat that reached his ankles with an apron over top, slick with blood. Thick rubber gloves clung to his hand.
"You'll notice the improvements" He smiled, gesturing towards her lower half.
She jerked against the instrument around her neck. The doctor made a small noise as if just remembering her restraints. He paced over to her and placed a gloved hand around her neck, the other behind her. She heard a click, and suddenly her head was free. She stared down. Her stomach was bare. Her eyes crept down to her waistline, where her skin abruptly became a sickening yellow. Her legs were gone, instead, a large mass took their place. The yellow mass held large black dots across it. Eight spindling legs stretched out with three joints each. At the second joint the leg shifted to a jet black. She screamed.
"Silence, girl" The doctor commanded.
She did not quiet. She flailed her many legs and ripped at her own waist, trying to break free. The doctor stumbled backward. She tore off the restraint at her neck. The doctor began to scramble through his desk. The girl shoved a hand into her waist, amazed at her own strength. Hot blood trickled onto her new arachnid bottom. She pushed hard, a ripping pain seared through her. She screamed louder. The doctor retrieved a needle and thrust it into a nearby bottle.
"I SAID SILENCE!" He cried back.
She grabbed the back of his neck with her bloodied hand. She slammed him into the cement wall. The sound of snapping bones rang out.
"Why" She grunted, holding her other hand against her fresh wound.
"You already had the magic" He began, trying to pull his head free from the cement. "You could summon spiders. This was just an experi-"
The girl pushed him harder. Another cracking sound, she dropped the limp body. She stared back down at herself. A disgusting body covered in blood. The crimson was starting to dry across the bright yellow legs. Her heart sank when she looked down at the man. *Did I mean to?*, she asked herself. It felt like a weight on a hook, dragging her stomach into the floor. She clenched her fists and felt hot tears stream down her face. She leaned on to the wall and sobbed. Her legs seemed to adjust by themselves, almost on instinct. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away as she sank to the floor, more blood smearing across the cement into a floor drain at the center of the room. A light flashed into the room as the one metal door swung open. A boy stepped through, a rifle in his hands prodding the room. He glanced down and yelled out. The girl could hear footsteps down the hall. An older man, a greying beard framing his face, stepped through holding a pistol. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. He turned away for a moment to look at the boy, who in turn was unable to take his eyes off the girl attached to such a horrific abomination. Both seemed too shaken to act. Finally, the boy walked over, gun still firmly in hand. He grabbed the light blue coat hanging off the doctor's corpse and handed it to the girl. She pulled it around her torso and looked down at her wound. The boy almost jumped back.
"Dad" He said "We need to take her to the medicine men"
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[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
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*An excerpt from Stephen Colbert's award winning interview with Sergeant Major Johnathon Stewart- Veteran of the "Dead Contact War"*
Colbert: Whenever you're ready, please, tell us what it was like for you- an enlisted man- when the war broke out, and when the tide changed.
John: Rocks. Everything began, and ended, with rocks.
First it was rocks from the sky. In the early days of the invasion the aliens redirected asteroids onto a collision course with Earth. Not big enough to ruin the planet for colonization, but big enough to kill an eighth of our population in the first attack.
No one is sure who said it first, but soon after we realized who was responsible we started calling them "Stoners". You'll never hear that in anything official of course, it was just something we started saying around the FOB- I'm sorry, that's Forward Operations Base to the layman. You can take the soldier out of the suck, but you can't take the acronyms out of the soldier.
After the first wave softened us up, they started bringing in fighters. The Skipping Stones, or Skippers, were faster and more maneuverable than anything we had. in days they had shredded anything that wasn't hidden, lucky, or buried underground. And they never stopped dropping rocks on our heads. After the sun got blotted out by the smoke, sometimes the only light you'd see at noon was the glow of cities on fire. Two months in, and we were down to about five billion.
So there we were. Out gunned, out matched, and morale was in the shitter. I went from a Private First Class to Sergeant in a matter of weeks because so many people above us had already been taken out. Whatever was left of leadership skipped right over the draft and went straight to conscripting anybody with two working legs and at least one arm and an eye. It was looking like the end times, and some of the religious nuts were into it. Wasn't long before you had crazies in the streets saying that we ought to surrender to what was clearly "God's wrath". Those guys didn't last long.
Around the middle of the fourth month, the Stoners started deploying ground troops. Big fellas on four legs most of the time, two legs when they wanted to shoot you with those big ass rifles. But they were slow upright, like a bear. Covered in armor. White stuff that made us think that they were color blind, cause they would hide, but stick out like a sore thumb wherever they took cover. It was the only advantage we really had. And they realized about the same time we did that it didn't really matter if we saw them or not.
Small arms fire had no effect on the stuff. So they abandoned subtlety and would just waddle onto the field and lay us out. We lost another half billion before the "Sense" kicked in. And finally, things started to turn.
People started to have "dreams". They woke up and KNEW where they were massing troops. KNEW where they were storing munitions. And it didn't take much to confirm these dreams, because everyone was starting to have them. And of course we acted on them.
I had my first "dream" in August of 2038. About four hundred Stoners were massing in what used to be Spirit Lake, Iowa, USA. I sent it up the chain of command they launched an offensive. We caught'em with the space trousers down. It was a Stoner hospital triage for the few that were injured. And we wasted 'em all. I'd seen about a hundred fire fights and never seen one go down. To watch 'em all die like that... it still makes me wanna cry. It was beautiful, and I got another promotion out of it. And we paid for it dearly.
The Stoners retaliated with a fury. The asteroids picked up all over the globe. Stoner troops came in at twice the number they needed. Skippers swarmed around like clouds overhead. And in two weeks, the killed two billion of us. We were all ready to give up. Throw it in. Go to whatever god wanted us.
And then somebody threw a rock.
Private Jordan. Conscripted by the Army while scavenging in what used to be L.A. Skinny little seventeen year old white boy. Skiddish by all accounts. His unit got pinned down on the Northwestern front of Old Canada. Went to fire his first shot of the war, and his rifle jams. Then he realizes that he dropped his sidearm in the crossfire when he ran for cover. He looks up and sees a nine-foot Stoner standing over him, leveling a shot. He panics, grabs a rock, and chucks it as hard as he can right at the things chest plate.
It should have pinged off and got him killed. Instead it shot out of his hand at what some egghead tells me must have been something close to the speed of light. It punched a hole right through the Stoner and blew apart the roof of the building behind him. BOOM!!! "Like God was beating on the biggest, deepest drum you ever heard." That's what I said when I told the Master Sergeant.
I saw the whole thing. The jam. The Stoner. The rock. And, unfortunately, the shot that Stoner put through John's chest in it's death throws. Poor kid. He had just won us the war, and he never even had a chance to register his first kill.
So. I looked around. Found a rock about the size of my fist. And the second I picked it up, I knew why John chucked it. It was like I was meeting an old friend. The first weapon. Just an old rock. And I knew that no matter how bad a throw I was, she would hit whatever I was aiming at. So I picked my target. Cocked back my arm, and threw that stone for all I was worth. Suddenly I felt like I wasn't just throwing a rock. I was hurling all my being at them. My love, my hope, and all of my sorrow. **Boom!!!**
Some nine or ten of them died when their comrade took the shot. One second they were there, the next they were all replaced with a glowing crater of slag.
So I kept grabbing stones and throwing. Soon the rest of the unit was throwing. Quarter of an hour later, and the score was 14 dead on our side, and 90+ on theirs. We were alive. And now we had the the Stone on our side.
Of course it took a while to catch on. No one believed us at first. We tried to show our superiors on controlled ranges, but the rocks just went as far as we could throw and plunked to the ground. Like regular old rocks. It was about intent. Need. It came to us when it was necessary. And even after enough of our superiors had seen it in action, it was hard to convince people to tell their men, "Hey! Stop shooting and throw rocks at them! Trust me!"
But finally they did. With just over a billion people left, and scattered resistance fighting around the globe against an invading force larger than the original population of the planet. And there it was.
We killed them on the ground, in the air, in the sea. And once we realized that there was no "maximum effective range", we shot them right out of local space.
Soon we started putting communication together. Started regrouping and rebuilding. Ten years later and we could finally start to breathe easier. People started having kids and putting together schools. About five years after that, and you could see the sun through the ash clouds. Things were still cold and harsh, but it was over.
I lost a lot of good friends. I lost my whole family, except for my cousin in Nebraska- she still lives with me today, we just... can't handle being separated again. A lot of families are like that still. But we made it through. And it was all because a scared little seventeen year old Private threw a rock.
Yeah. It all came down to rocks.
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The problem with humans is their curiosity. Even after a new species from the stars reigns hell upon every continent, impaling billions on the ends of their spears, curiosity still prevails. When enough people finally lay dead in the streets the survivors came to a realization. Every time someone died it allowed a little more magic to flow through the human race's veins. Bringing us back to the plight and pillar of humanity, curiosity. Or more specifically the curiosity of one Oleg Bishopi, Ph.D. and the charming young girl just waking up among the piles of medical equipment and samples strewn across his basement.
"Wonderful" The Doctor cheered through a thick accent, "We can begin"
"Mmmph" responded the girl through tightly wrapped bandages. Her eyes were wide with fear, something restraining her neck forcing her gaze to the ceiling. She tried to move her legs and felt something entirely new. She attempted to kick her leg and instead felt four legs react. Each one longer than they should be. She tried the other to the same response, only on the other side.
"Your name is Platythomisus Sapien and I am your father" The Doctor stated.
The girl looked at him for a moment, searching for some piece of information to cling onto. An immediate feeling in her chest told her opposite. A moment in time flashed through her mind, cheap birthday streamers clinging to the walls, a handmade lopsided cake, and her father. A tall man in a light green button down, his brown hand on her shoulder with a smile behind his thick mustache. She opened her eyes again, the man in front of her was not her father. His skin was akin to snow, and he had the figure of a beer bottle. He wore a light blue coat that reached his ankles with an apron over top, slick with blood. Thick rubber gloves clung to his hand.
"You'll notice the improvements" He smiled, gesturing towards her lower half.
She jerked against the instrument around her neck. The doctor made a small noise as if just remembering her restraints. He paced over to her and placed a gloved hand around her neck, the other behind her. She heard a click, and suddenly her head was free. She stared down. Her stomach was bare. Her eyes crept down to her waistline, where her skin abruptly became a sickening yellow. Her legs were gone, instead, a large mass took their place. The yellow mass held large black dots across it. Eight spindling legs stretched out with three joints each. At the second joint the leg shifted to a jet black. She screamed.
"Silence, girl" The doctor commanded.
She did not quiet. She flailed her many legs and ripped at her own waist, trying to break free. The doctor stumbled backward. She tore off the restraint at her neck. The doctor began to scramble through his desk. The girl shoved a hand into her waist, amazed at her own strength. Hot blood trickled onto her new arachnid bottom. She pushed hard, a ripping pain seared through her. She screamed louder. The doctor retrieved a needle and thrust it into a nearby bottle.
"I SAID SILENCE!" He cried back.
She grabbed the back of his neck with her bloodied hand. She slammed him into the cement wall. The sound of snapping bones rang out.
"Why" She grunted, holding her other hand against her fresh wound.
"You already had the magic" He began, trying to pull his head free from the cement. "You could summon spiders. This was just an experi-"
The girl pushed him harder. Another cracking sound, she dropped the limp body. She stared back down at herself. A disgusting body covered in blood. The crimson was starting to dry across the bright yellow legs. Her heart sank when she looked down at the man. *Did I mean to?*, she asked herself. It felt like a weight on a hook, dragging her stomach into the floor. She clenched her fists and felt hot tears stream down her face. She leaned on to the wall and sobbed. Her legs seemed to adjust by themselves, almost on instinct. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away as she sank to the floor, more blood smearing across the cement into a floor drain at the center of the room. A light flashed into the room as the one metal door swung open. A boy stepped through, a rifle in his hands prodding the room. He glanced down and yelled out. The girl could hear footsteps down the hall. An older man, a greying beard framing his face, stepped through holding a pistol. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. He turned away for a moment to look at the boy, who in turn was unable to take his eyes off the girl attached to such a horrific abomination. Both seemed too shaken to act. Finally, the boy walked over, gun still firmly in hand. He grabbed the light blue coat hanging off the doctor's corpse and handed it to the girl. She pulled it around her torso and looked down at her wound. The boy almost jumped back.
"Dad" He said "We need to take her to the medicine men"
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|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
When they came the excitement lasted for almost 24 hours. Our first contact with the stars led to speculation of travel their ourselves, and of what wonders these mysterious visitors would bring. They might cure disease, end world hunger, introduce technology to make all of our most far flung fantasies realities. However, the only thing they'd brought for us was death.
Three hours and fifty seven minutes after they arrived they started sending down shuttles. These shuttles didn't go to our political capitals or any scientific or spiritual centers. They didn't even go to our military installations. They went to Tokyo, Delhi, Shanghai, Manila and Mumbai. Their goal was to kill the most human beings in the shortest amount of time.
Two minutes after they launched, they touched down. As people saw the shuttles incoming they'd begun to gather. They surrounded them and shouted greetings in their native tongues. The shuttle doors began to lower, and before they'd even touched the ground the first barrage of energy blasts had fried dozens of onlookers.
Social media posts of these attacks crashed all major website servers, but the word was out. World governments leapt to action and fired nuclear missiles at the landing sites and at the ships in orbit around the planet. They never reached their targets.
Nevertheless some people remained excited. A cohort of mostly younger men began to speak encouragement, derived from their delusions of grandeur, about how surely they'd find a weakness. A virus, a weapon, an almost magical field emitted that would shut off their technology. In truth, maybe there was something, but the rate of elimination was such that anyone truly, objectively considering the situation knew there was no hope.
Many in the Militaries around the world came to this conclusion. Each of the enemy troops came with a personal shield that normal caliber bullets and normal bombs could seem to penetrate, or at the least, any human weapon that had the capability to do so was destroyed before it had the chance to reach them. They seemed to almost be mocking us in this way. Ground troops were allowed to approach, it made them easier to slaughter. Most planes and missiles were shot down, and convoys carrying anti-tank guns destroyed.
We couldn't win, but we knew that we had weapons that could hurt them. Sixteen hours after they'd landed in the first cities, they boarded their transports and left. As anticipated they were moving towards a second wave which included New York City. Hours before planes had been launched, many going towards Washington DC as a ploy to convince the aliens that the politicians were mostly concerned about themselves. Aircraft Carriers moved towards the north east, and all military bases in the country began to trickle vehicles and weapons towards New York. Had they been paying attention, they might have noticed, they might have noticed anyway and not truly assessed the threat level. The end result was that when they touched down the United States, and their allies, launched the largest military assault in human history on New York City. Even North Korea fired their full nuclear arsenal in our support. The alien's defensive capabilities were overwhelmed. By the time their ships sliced through the last weapons that posed a threat to them, they'd lost half their force in the area.
They pulled out, but not out of defeat. Once their troops were destroyed they fired at the city from space. They vaporized the city, and enough layers of sediment that not even the island remained.
The cost for half of one of more than a dozen attack squads was the capability to mount an effective attack upon the enemy ever again. The effort did have one more important gain for humanity, one that has kept us alive even till today. In the few hours that the enemy was overwhelmed, the Military began dispersing tactical nuclear weapons to the surrounding communities. Only a few hours after New York was destroyed, they touched down in Philadelphia. Twenty minutes later they lost a third of their force that happened to be too close to a nuclear explosion.
They adjusted. They changed strategy. They wiped out all major military installations and all potential nuclear arsenals over the next few days. They had, had complete surveillance of the planet since they'd arrived and had gone back and figured out which vehicles leaving certain military installations were likely to have had bombs on them, and where they had gone. Anywhere with a small population and no significance in regards to infrastructure they destroyed from space. This had been anticipated, however, and the bombs had been moved several times by several vehicles, often to quite inconspicuous locations.
They eradicated the populations of Canada and Mexico thinking, correctly, that Americans would protect their own first. Similarly, they destroyed Eastern Europe and Germany. They realized that Pakistan and India had not sent out their bombs, destroyed their facilities, followed by the population. China had so few weapons per population, fewer that were small enough to transport, and fewer still that had been moved without being tracked. They whittled down large population areas they considered to be low risk.
Two weeks in Africa was gone, Australia and all of the island nations of the Pacific were gone. The only country in the Western Hemisphere with a population was the United States. France, the United Kingdom, and Russia remained in Europe. 1/4 of the population of China was all that remained of Asia. Israel was all that remained of the Middle East. All in all around 750 million people remained.
No one should have been surprised by the next move, everyone warned everyone else against it, but in some areas there were no alternatives, and humans are creatures of habit. They poisoned all major water supplies. Within a day half the remaining population was lost. At the same time any vehicles on the road were being destroyed from orbit.
Humans spent most time indoors. Small communities centered around clean sources of water were formed. People learned to live off the land, what roots and berries were edible, and how to hunt deer, squirrel and other game. Winter came to the Northern Hemisphere, and tens of millions more died.
A rumor spread, that a functioning military intelligence base was reporting that nearly a hundred more ships had arrived. They were sending down hundreds of transports that must contain hundreds of thousands of aliens a day. They were apparently colonizing. One colony, in a now abandoned but still mostly functional Beijing, erupted in a mushroom cloud about a week after arrival.
The retaliation was swift, three of the largest remaining population areas left were attacked, and two of them became nuclear wastelands. Then hostile activity stopped. Then the diplomats arrived. The remaining human population would be left alone, they said, if they abandoned the coasts, abandoned all areas heavy in natural resources, all cities, if they moved inland to the country, and if they gave up all electronic devices. Humanity would not come within 50 miles, roughly, of any colony, and if any alien came in contact with a human, the human's life would be forfeit. Many argued. It was clearly a stalling tactic. They might have ground installations that could detect the presence of a nuclear bomb, or they might decide that the remaining land that humans held could be forfeit, vaporized in the name of their own safety. However most agreed to go. The ones that didn't were killed, though two groups managed to get off two more nuclear bombs.
Two years after the fact those that had left were mostly left alone. The aliens were mostly busy with establishing their colonies, integrating their technology, implementing key economic pillars. They seemed to stay in their cities, though they sometimes visited the same monuments and natural wonders that humans used to appreciate. A few of their leavings made their ways into human hands, mostly trash though.
The human population continued to decline, partially due to inability to adjust, partially due to the infeasibility of maintaining certain populations with only so many resources, and partially, at least if you believed some, due to sabotage efforts by the enemy. For instance, a water supply may suddenly go bad. Fears of the water going bad became so great that all across the world certain special humans were thought to have a special power, that they were able to bless the water. Many laughed at this practice, acted as thought they took part as a joke, but many took it seriously, almost matter of fact. Soon enough it was common practice to have a priest bless a water supply every morning. Those that laughed, continued to laugh, but, they did not get sick.
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The problem with humans is their curiosity. Even after a new species from the stars reigns hell upon every continent, impaling billions on the ends of their spears, curiosity still prevails. When enough people finally lay dead in the streets the survivors came to a realization. Every time someone died it allowed a little more magic to flow through the human race's veins. Bringing us back to the plight and pillar of humanity, curiosity. Or more specifically the curiosity of one Oleg Bishopi, Ph.D. and the charming young girl just waking up among the piles of medical equipment and samples strewn across his basement.
"Wonderful" The Doctor cheered through a thick accent, "We can begin"
"Mmmph" responded the girl through tightly wrapped bandages. Her eyes were wide with fear, something restraining her neck forcing her gaze to the ceiling. She tried to move her legs and felt something entirely new. She attempted to kick her leg and instead felt four legs react. Each one longer than they should be. She tried the other to the same response, only on the other side.
"Your name is Platythomisus Sapien and I am your father" The Doctor stated.
The girl looked at him for a moment, searching for some piece of information to cling onto. An immediate feeling in her chest told her opposite. A moment in time flashed through her mind, cheap birthday streamers clinging to the walls, a handmade lopsided cake, and her father. A tall man in a light green button down, his brown hand on her shoulder with a smile behind his thick mustache. She opened her eyes again, the man in front of her was not her father. His skin was akin to snow, and he had the figure of a beer bottle. He wore a light blue coat that reached his ankles with an apron over top, slick with blood. Thick rubber gloves clung to his hand.
"You'll notice the improvements" He smiled, gesturing towards her lower half.
She jerked against the instrument around her neck. The doctor made a small noise as if just remembering her restraints. He paced over to her and placed a gloved hand around her neck, the other behind her. She heard a click, and suddenly her head was free. She stared down. Her stomach was bare. Her eyes crept down to her waistline, where her skin abruptly became a sickening yellow. Her legs were gone, instead, a large mass took their place. The yellow mass held large black dots across it. Eight spindling legs stretched out with three joints each. At the second joint the leg shifted to a jet black. She screamed.
"Silence, girl" The doctor commanded.
She did not quiet. She flailed her many legs and ripped at her own waist, trying to break free. The doctor stumbled backward. She tore off the restraint at her neck. The doctor began to scramble through his desk. The girl shoved a hand into her waist, amazed at her own strength. Hot blood trickled onto her new arachnid bottom. She pushed hard, a ripping pain seared through her. She screamed louder. The doctor retrieved a needle and thrust it into a nearby bottle.
"I SAID SILENCE!" He cried back.
She grabbed the back of his neck with her bloodied hand. She slammed him into the cement wall. The sound of snapping bones rang out.
"Why" She grunted, holding her other hand against her fresh wound.
"You already had the magic" He began, trying to pull his head free from the cement. "You could summon spiders. This was just an experi-"
The girl pushed him harder. Another cracking sound, she dropped the limp body. She stared back down at herself. A disgusting body covered in blood. The crimson was starting to dry across the bright yellow legs. Her heart sank when she looked down at the man. *Did I mean to?*, she asked herself. It felt like a weight on a hook, dragging her stomach into the floor. She clenched her fists and felt hot tears stream down her face. She leaned on to the wall and sobbed. Her legs seemed to adjust by themselves, almost on instinct. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away as she sank to the floor, more blood smearing across the cement into a floor drain at the center of the room. A light flashed into the room as the one metal door swung open. A boy stepped through, a rifle in his hands prodding the room. He glanced down and yelled out. The girl could hear footsteps down the hall. An older man, a greying beard framing his face, stepped through holding a pistol. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. He turned away for a moment to look at the boy, who in turn was unable to take his eyes off the girl attached to such a horrific abomination. Both seemed too shaken to act. Finally, the boy walked over, gun still firmly in hand. He grabbed the light blue coat hanging off the doctor's corpse and handed it to the girl. She pulled it around her torso and looked down at her wound. The boy almost jumped back.
"Dad" He said "We need to take her to the medicine men"
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[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
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I once led men to greatness. Until our race became too powerful, and *they* came to cut us down. We designed weapons and ships, specifically engineered against the invaders, but it wasn't enough. In the end, the surface was ravaged, and only a few thousand survivors, those who had sought shelter underground, remained. For their own sake I have sealed all the paths to the surface, and all the paths between shelters, so that humanity may never again band together or become noticeable enough to provoke another attack. I sincerely hope that they will come to forgive me for this...
It has been 200 years since the Great War. All the old tunnels are still sealed. Perhaps humanity has become content with their underground lives. Perhaps they have all perished, and I am the only one left, kept alive only through the energy I used to fight with. It does get so lonely on the surface. Perhaps one of the old genetic engineering facilities survived the war. I could use some company...
It has been 1000 years since the Great War. My creations have been culling any humans they find on the surface, but recently they have been overpowered in combat. One of the humans has even stolen a mech from my men. None of my officers know how a lowly human can pull it off, but I know Spiral Power when I hear about it.
I ought to keep an eye on this "Kamina" person.
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The problem with humans is their curiosity. Even after a new species from the stars reigns hell upon every continent, impaling billions on the ends of their spears, curiosity still prevails. When enough people finally lay dead in the streets the survivors came to a realization. Every time someone died it allowed a little more magic to flow through the human race's veins. Bringing us back to the plight and pillar of humanity, curiosity. Or more specifically the curiosity of one Oleg Bishopi, Ph.D. and the charming young girl just waking up among the piles of medical equipment and samples strewn across his basement.
"Wonderful" The Doctor cheered through a thick accent, "We can begin"
"Mmmph" responded the girl through tightly wrapped bandages. Her eyes were wide with fear, something restraining her neck forcing her gaze to the ceiling. She tried to move her legs and felt something entirely new. She attempted to kick her leg and instead felt four legs react. Each one longer than they should be. She tried the other to the same response, only on the other side.
"Your name is Platythomisus Sapien and I am your father" The Doctor stated.
The girl looked at him for a moment, searching for some piece of information to cling onto. An immediate feeling in her chest told her opposite. A moment in time flashed through her mind, cheap birthday streamers clinging to the walls, a handmade lopsided cake, and her father. A tall man in a light green button down, his brown hand on her shoulder with a smile behind his thick mustache. She opened her eyes again, the man in front of her was not her father. His skin was akin to snow, and he had the figure of a beer bottle. He wore a light blue coat that reached his ankles with an apron over top, slick with blood. Thick rubber gloves clung to his hand.
"You'll notice the improvements" He smiled, gesturing towards her lower half.
She jerked against the instrument around her neck. The doctor made a small noise as if just remembering her restraints. He paced over to her and placed a gloved hand around her neck, the other behind her. She heard a click, and suddenly her head was free. She stared down. Her stomach was bare. Her eyes crept down to her waistline, where her skin abruptly became a sickening yellow. Her legs were gone, instead, a large mass took their place. The yellow mass held large black dots across it. Eight spindling legs stretched out with three joints each. At the second joint the leg shifted to a jet black. She screamed.
"Silence, girl" The doctor commanded.
She did not quiet. She flailed her many legs and ripped at her own waist, trying to break free. The doctor stumbled backward. She tore off the restraint at her neck. The doctor began to scramble through his desk. The girl shoved a hand into her waist, amazed at her own strength. Hot blood trickled onto her new arachnid bottom. She pushed hard, a ripping pain seared through her. She screamed louder. The doctor retrieved a needle and thrust it into a nearby bottle.
"I SAID SILENCE!" He cried back.
She grabbed the back of his neck with her bloodied hand. She slammed him into the cement wall. The sound of snapping bones rang out.
"Why" She grunted, holding her other hand against her fresh wound.
"You already had the magic" He began, trying to pull his head free from the cement. "You could summon spiders. This was just an experi-"
The girl pushed him harder. Another cracking sound, she dropped the limp body. She stared back down at herself. A disgusting body covered in blood. The crimson was starting to dry across the bright yellow legs. Her heart sank when she looked down at the man. *Did I mean to?*, she asked herself. It felt like a weight on a hook, dragging her stomach into the floor. She clenched her fists and felt hot tears stream down her face. She leaned on to the wall and sobbed. Her legs seemed to adjust by themselves, almost on instinct. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away as she sank to the floor, more blood smearing across the cement into a floor drain at the center of the room. A light flashed into the room as the one metal door swung open. A boy stepped through, a rifle in his hands prodding the room. He glanced down and yelled out. The girl could hear footsteps down the hall. An older man, a greying beard framing his face, stepped through holding a pistol. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. He turned away for a moment to look at the boy, who in turn was unable to take his eyes off the girl attached to such a horrific abomination. Both seemed too shaken to act. Finally, the boy walked over, gun still firmly in hand. He grabbed the light blue coat hanging off the doctor's corpse and handed it to the girl. She pulled it around her torso and looked down at her wound. The boy almost jumped back.
"Dad" He said "We need to take her to the medicine men"
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
You could feel static in the air. Vibrations rippling the surface of the ground. Like a droplet hitting calm waters.
Her eyes pregnant with tears; cascading down her dirty face. If you had heard her screaming, you would feel the exact moment your heartbreaking into a thousand pieces.
She croaked out the last of her voice. Sobbing her heart out, she clutches the remnants of her younger sister. Trembling and whispering so low only angels could hear "Fuck no, Jesus please. Bring her back. Fuck. this isn't fair." If given the chance she would have sat there and repeated that last sentence over a lifetime. Over and over again.
If only she had been there. She would have found a small momentary haven for her and younger sister.
Gemma's lifeless eyes that had once danced with a playful light despite The Day of Broken Skies had wreaked havoc on our broken world under a couple of years ago. Had now been snuffed away. Stolen from her.
Sophia had never felt rage this chaotic before.
The sound of her blood coursing through her veins drowned out the distant screams and please for help.
Nearby a Senty had rounded the corner, the low baritone humming as it's tracks glided over crumbling walls and rusting cars. The dome glistening as it housed this other worldly species. A language unknown warbled excitedly as it spots Sophia.
Sophia couldn't hear the mechanised alien's weapon start to whir. Only when she felt searing hot air whoosh past her arm did the ground around her stop pulsing.
Sophia's sadness had erupted into a deafening war cry.
She abhorred them. Every last one of them. With every last molecule of her body.
She went to stand up. Instead the ground rushed away from her. She was airborne and as her rage brought her to near madness. What can only be described as the sound of a sonic boom. Darkness.
Sophia struggles to wake. She feebly pushes herself onto her knees. She knows she needs to run. She looks around to find shelter, only to find 100 metres of scorched earth surrounding her. What was left of the Sentinel, was a puddle of molten alien metal.
"What are you?" A terrified voice called from somewhere close. Sophia could only muster a whisper "please help"
Darkness.
Sophia woke to the sound of metal clanging and water rushing. She couldn't see much but a sliver of light. Her migraine made her double over, groaning as she's struggled to make sense of her surroundings.
The pitter patter of tiny feet and giggling could be heard running away. "She's awake", "she's weird", "she looks like my sister" "she's superwoman" little eyes peered into the safety of Sophia's darkness.
"GET AWAY FROM THERE" A fierce growl scattered the kids in different directions.
The huge metal door creaked open.
A giant with a barrel chest stoops to let himself into the room. Light burns Sophia's eyes as she struggles to keep them open.
"So you're a Surge?" His growls rumbling as a billow of smoke floods towards Sophia.
Hey guys,
This was my first attempt at a writing prompt or anything really like this. I don't know the etiquette on how long or short they are supposed to be.
My grammar sucks, so if you have any tips that would help, it would be appreciated!
Could you let me know if I did ok?
Apologies on mobile.
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The problem with humans is their curiosity. Even after a new species from the stars reigns hell upon every continent, impaling billions on the ends of their spears, curiosity still prevails. When enough people finally lay dead in the streets the survivors came to a realization. Every time someone died it allowed a little more magic to flow through the human race's veins. Bringing us back to the plight and pillar of humanity, curiosity. Or more specifically the curiosity of one Oleg Bishopi, Ph.D. and the charming young girl just waking up among the piles of medical equipment and samples strewn across his basement.
"Wonderful" The Doctor cheered through a thick accent, "We can begin"
"Mmmph" responded the girl through tightly wrapped bandages. Her eyes were wide with fear, something restraining her neck forcing her gaze to the ceiling. She tried to move her legs and felt something entirely new. She attempted to kick her leg and instead felt four legs react. Each one longer than they should be. She tried the other to the same response, only on the other side.
"Your name is Platythomisus Sapien and I am your father" The Doctor stated.
The girl looked at him for a moment, searching for some piece of information to cling onto. An immediate feeling in her chest told her opposite. A moment in time flashed through her mind, cheap birthday streamers clinging to the walls, a handmade lopsided cake, and her father. A tall man in a light green button down, his brown hand on her shoulder with a smile behind his thick mustache. She opened her eyes again, the man in front of her was not her father. His skin was akin to snow, and he had the figure of a beer bottle. He wore a light blue coat that reached his ankles with an apron over top, slick with blood. Thick rubber gloves clung to his hand.
"You'll notice the improvements" He smiled, gesturing towards her lower half.
She jerked against the instrument around her neck. The doctor made a small noise as if just remembering her restraints. He paced over to her and placed a gloved hand around her neck, the other behind her. She heard a click, and suddenly her head was free. She stared down. Her stomach was bare. Her eyes crept down to her waistline, where her skin abruptly became a sickening yellow. Her legs were gone, instead, a large mass took their place. The yellow mass held large black dots across it. Eight spindling legs stretched out with three joints each. At the second joint the leg shifted to a jet black. She screamed.
"Silence, girl" The doctor commanded.
She did not quiet. She flailed her many legs and ripped at her own waist, trying to break free. The doctor stumbled backward. She tore off the restraint at her neck. The doctor began to scramble through his desk. The girl shoved a hand into her waist, amazed at her own strength. Hot blood trickled onto her new arachnid bottom. She pushed hard, a ripping pain seared through her. She screamed louder. The doctor retrieved a needle and thrust it into a nearby bottle.
"I SAID SILENCE!" He cried back.
She grabbed the back of his neck with her bloodied hand. She slammed him into the cement wall. The sound of snapping bones rang out.
"Why" She grunted, holding her other hand against her fresh wound.
"You already had the magic" He began, trying to pull his head free from the cement. "You could summon spiders. This was just an experi-"
The girl pushed him harder. Another cracking sound, she dropped the limp body. She stared back down at herself. A disgusting body covered in blood. The crimson was starting to dry across the bright yellow legs. Her heart sank when she looked down at the man. *Did I mean to?*, she asked herself. It felt like a weight on a hook, dragging her stomach into the floor. She clenched her fists and felt hot tears stream down her face. She leaned on to the wall and sobbed. Her legs seemed to adjust by themselves, almost on instinct. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away as she sank to the floor, more blood smearing across the cement into a floor drain at the center of the room. A light flashed into the room as the one metal door swung open. A boy stepped through, a rifle in his hands prodding the room. He glanced down and yelled out. The girl could hear footsteps down the hall. An older man, a greying beard framing his face, stepped through holding a pistol. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. He turned away for a moment to look at the boy, who in turn was unable to take his eyes off the girl attached to such a horrific abomination. Both seemed too shaken to act. Finally, the boy walked over, gun still firmly in hand. He grabbed the light blue coat hanging off the doctor's corpse and handed it to the girl. She pulled it around her torso and looked down at her wound. The boy almost jumped back.
"Dad" He said "We need to take her to the medicine men"
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
We fought for diplomacy, for cohabitation. They had no intention of hearing our pleas. They had given us a warning: vacate the earth in fourteen days or be eradicated. There were over seven billion people on earth and no space or science organization had the means to transport even a fraction of that number to a different location, let alone the resources that it would take to sustain them.
So, in the face of their ultimatum, we fought. Independently, as first, one nation at a time, launching waves of attacks at their hubs. The United States, Russia, China, Britain; they all fell short of even damaging their ranks. Eventually, the UN announced a global alliance between every country and sovereign power on earth working together towards one goal: survival.
Under normal circumstances, finding out that most countries were harboring weapons of mass destruction would have been cause for war in itself. Under these circumstances, leaders bit their tongues, and organized attacks with weapons so devastating pieces of the world were no longer identifiable. The earth beneath them suffered, wilted, and caved, but they did not. Not even nukes, a omnipresent threat to humanity since their invention, could damage them.
It did not take long for them to realize that we had nothing bigger to throw at them, no other trump cards in our pockets. They began their offensive, and within weeks, over 6,000 years of human civilization was reduced to rubble. Seven billion shrank to seven million, and then seven thousand.
It was at this point that those of us who remained began noticing the changes. We were more in tune with our surroundings, with nature, with the earth around us. We began leaning closer and closer into the fires that kept us warm, finding that it no longer burned our finger tips. Wind no longer chapped our skin, and blizzards were cool breezes against our faces. We were becoming more than what we thought human was.
The seven thousand of us that remained were split into three separate groups, in order to prevent ever being taken out in one assault. We were somewhere in Africa, two thousand of us trekking through a desert. We knew that we were exposed, but we hoped that the vastness of the sands would be cover enough to get us closer to Europe, where we were to meet with one of the other groups to stage our last stand.
I never was a lucky man. I never won the big poker hands, found myself in the right place at the right time. I can't recall a time I ever won a scratcher either. The luckiest thing I think to ever happen to me was finding a wife who would put up with me. She was perfect, and I knew when I married her that if she was the only bit of luck I ever had in my life, that it would be more than enough.
She was killed. Two years ago. Our house collapsed right on top of her when the invasion made it to our city. She didn't have a chance to scream, or feel any pain. She was luckier than I was, and luckier than many of the thousands or millions who suffered slow deaths in the invader's wake.
I could have used a bit of her luck in that desert. We spotted their ship heading toward us in the distance, probably ten minutes before it would make it to our ranks. A few moments later, news that the other two groups had been killed blared through our radios. We looked to each other, no fear left to give, and readied ourselves for the fight. Only some of us were lucky enough to have guns. High caliber rifles in the very back of our group. The rest of us donned spears and swords. We unsheathed them, children grasping their plastic swords to ward off intruders, and raised them in the air and shouted together.
They flew closer, droves of them jumping down to the sand, standing at least two heads taller than an average human. They were faster than us as well, covering twice the distance in their long strides. We knew this scene of pale beasts hurling themselves toward us was likely our last. Still, we charged, and as instinct took over we all learned that there was nothing more human than our inclination for war.
I lead the charge, raising my rusted longsword in the air, thinking back to all of the high fantasy stories I used to enjoy, knowing that there would be no allied army making a last minute entrance to save us. Whenever I would watch those scenes, goosebumps would flood my skin, and the hair on my neck would stand straight up. I felt the same thing now as I ran toward my death.
It was euphoric. I thought about the flight or fight response, and how whenever we are put in that situation, our bodies release chemicals that make us less responsive to pain and wondered if this was my body in action. I understood how our ancestors would have fought beasts larger than us. The feeling coursing through my body was like nothing I had ever experienced. As I drew closer to them, the euphoria seemed to concentrate in my hands and feet, and I could begin to feel the earth shake harder and harder beneath me.
We closed in on one another, and the yells went silent as I jumped higher than I ever thought I could directly into the ranks of the invaders. A primal instinct kicked in, and I dropped my sword halfway through my jump, raising my fist at their leader's head. The moment before it made contact, a bolt of lightning cracked into the creature's flesh and cracked in half before falling to the ground.
As I stood in confusion, I looked behind to the last of my people. Lighting crackled and fire burst from their palms as they maintained their charge. Their fists landed as true as my own, and one by one, after years of fighting, we were finally able to witness the beauty of our enemy’s death. It was as though earth itself was fighting back. Two thousand humans remained, but we were no longer the humans we once knew. We were what humans had been millennia ago, what legend and folklore was based on.
We were the people of earth, and as we would come to find out, had a deeper connection to this planet than any of us could have guessed, let alone any foreign invaders. We had grown with this planet, and long ago, learned to harness its raw power. But power is finite, and when so many of us shared the planet, that power began to grow thinner as we prospered.
Bringing us down to our last stand, dwindling our numbers to so few, triggered the final fail safe that humanity had repressed for so long. We beat them for the first time that day, in a scorching desert that our ancestors avoided. They felt the sting of defeat for the first time, and retaliated with their full force. They had the numbers, but we had the power, and it was time for us to take our planet back.
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The problem with humans is their curiosity. Even after a new species from the stars reigns hell upon every continent, impaling billions on the ends of their spears, curiosity still prevails. When enough people finally lay dead in the streets the survivors came to a realization. Every time someone died it allowed a little more magic to flow through the human race's veins. Bringing us back to the plight and pillar of humanity, curiosity. Or more specifically the curiosity of one Oleg Bishopi, Ph.D. and the charming young girl just waking up among the piles of medical equipment and samples strewn across his basement.
"Wonderful" The Doctor cheered through a thick accent, "We can begin"
"Mmmph" responded the girl through tightly wrapped bandages. Her eyes were wide with fear, something restraining her neck forcing her gaze to the ceiling. She tried to move her legs and felt something entirely new. She attempted to kick her leg and instead felt four legs react. Each one longer than they should be. She tried the other to the same response, only on the other side.
"Your name is Platythomisus Sapien and I am your father" The Doctor stated.
The girl looked at him for a moment, searching for some piece of information to cling onto. An immediate feeling in her chest told her opposite. A moment in time flashed through her mind, cheap birthday streamers clinging to the walls, a handmade lopsided cake, and her father. A tall man in a light green button down, his brown hand on her shoulder with a smile behind his thick mustache. She opened her eyes again, the man in front of her was not her father. His skin was akin to snow, and he had the figure of a beer bottle. He wore a light blue coat that reached his ankles with an apron over top, slick with blood. Thick rubber gloves clung to his hand.
"You'll notice the improvements" He smiled, gesturing towards her lower half.
She jerked against the instrument around her neck. The doctor made a small noise as if just remembering her restraints. He paced over to her and placed a gloved hand around her neck, the other behind her. She heard a click, and suddenly her head was free. She stared down. Her stomach was bare. Her eyes crept down to her waistline, where her skin abruptly became a sickening yellow. Her legs were gone, instead, a large mass took their place. The yellow mass held large black dots across it. Eight spindling legs stretched out with three joints each. At the second joint the leg shifted to a jet black. She screamed.
"Silence, girl" The doctor commanded.
She did not quiet. She flailed her many legs and ripped at her own waist, trying to break free. The doctor stumbled backward. She tore off the restraint at her neck. The doctor began to scramble through his desk. The girl shoved a hand into her waist, amazed at her own strength. Hot blood trickled onto her new arachnid bottom. She pushed hard, a ripping pain seared through her. She screamed louder. The doctor retrieved a needle and thrust it into a nearby bottle.
"I SAID SILENCE!" He cried back.
She grabbed the back of his neck with her bloodied hand. She slammed him into the cement wall. The sound of snapping bones rang out.
"Why" She grunted, holding her other hand against her fresh wound.
"You already had the magic" He began, trying to pull his head free from the cement. "You could summon spiders. This was just an experi-"
The girl pushed him harder. Another cracking sound, she dropped the limp body. She stared back down at herself. A disgusting body covered in blood. The crimson was starting to dry across the bright yellow legs. Her heart sank when she looked down at the man. *Did I mean to?*, she asked herself. It felt like a weight on a hook, dragging her stomach into the floor. She clenched her fists and felt hot tears stream down her face. She leaned on to the wall and sobbed. Her legs seemed to adjust by themselves, almost on instinct. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away as she sank to the floor, more blood smearing across the cement into a floor drain at the center of the room. A light flashed into the room as the one metal door swung open. A boy stepped through, a rifle in his hands prodding the room. He glanced down and yelled out. The girl could hear footsteps down the hall. An older man, a greying beard framing his face, stepped through holding a pistol. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. He turned away for a moment to look at the boy, who in turn was unable to take his eyes off the girl attached to such a horrific abomination. Both seemed too shaken to act. Finally, the boy walked over, gun still firmly in hand. He grabbed the light blue coat hanging off the doctor's corpse and handed it to the girl. She pulled it around her torso and looked down at her wound. The boy almost jumped back.
"Dad" He said "We need to take her to the medicine men"
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
Bruce stood against the wall, his whole body shaking with fear. Glaring at the creatures with hate filled eyes, he knew his end was near. The Wub had lined up 10 people along a wall execution style, ready to slauter and rid the earth of the human pest. Bruce had a welling feeling in his gut, could this be the powers the people were talking about? The Wub troopers aimed there weapons for the final part of the execution. Bruce couldn't hold it any longer, it was happening and he knew it. Gas filled the street with a toxic purple and yellow haze. The prisoners survived and had only one side effect, the putred smell of sulfer. Bruce looked at the back of his jeans. A giant hole on his butt. " Dear God I'm going to die from that smell, I'm scared for life now" spoke the young girl next to Bruce. His power was growing stronger again, or was it all those chalupas he ate yesterday night? Either way it was time to move. Bruce ran down the street, his pants flayling behind him in the wind.
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The problem with humans is their curiosity. Even after a new species from the stars reigns hell upon every continent, impaling billions on the ends of their spears, curiosity still prevails. When enough people finally lay dead in the streets the survivors came to a realization. Every time someone died it allowed a little more magic to flow through the human race's veins. Bringing us back to the plight and pillar of humanity, curiosity. Or more specifically the curiosity of one Oleg Bishopi, Ph.D. and the charming young girl just waking up among the piles of medical equipment and samples strewn across his basement.
"Wonderful" The Doctor cheered through a thick accent, "We can begin"
"Mmmph" responded the girl through tightly wrapped bandages. Her eyes were wide with fear, something restraining her neck forcing her gaze to the ceiling. She tried to move her legs and felt something entirely new. She attempted to kick her leg and instead felt four legs react. Each one longer than they should be. She tried the other to the same response, only on the other side.
"Your name is Platythomisus Sapien and I am your father" The Doctor stated.
The girl looked at him for a moment, searching for some piece of information to cling onto. An immediate feeling in her chest told her opposite. A moment in time flashed through her mind, cheap birthday streamers clinging to the walls, a handmade lopsided cake, and her father. A tall man in a light green button down, his brown hand on her shoulder with a smile behind his thick mustache. She opened her eyes again, the man in front of her was not her father. His skin was akin to snow, and he had the figure of a beer bottle. He wore a light blue coat that reached his ankles with an apron over top, slick with blood. Thick rubber gloves clung to his hand.
"You'll notice the improvements" He smiled, gesturing towards her lower half.
She jerked against the instrument around her neck. The doctor made a small noise as if just remembering her restraints. He paced over to her and placed a gloved hand around her neck, the other behind her. She heard a click, and suddenly her head was free. She stared down. Her stomach was bare. Her eyes crept down to her waistline, where her skin abruptly became a sickening yellow. Her legs were gone, instead, a large mass took their place. The yellow mass held large black dots across it. Eight spindling legs stretched out with three joints each. At the second joint the leg shifted to a jet black. She screamed.
"Silence, girl" The doctor commanded.
She did not quiet. She flailed her many legs and ripped at her own waist, trying to break free. The doctor stumbled backward. She tore off the restraint at her neck. The doctor began to scramble through his desk. The girl shoved a hand into her waist, amazed at her own strength. Hot blood trickled onto her new arachnid bottom. She pushed hard, a ripping pain seared through her. She screamed louder. The doctor retrieved a needle and thrust it into a nearby bottle.
"I SAID SILENCE!" He cried back.
She grabbed the back of his neck with her bloodied hand. She slammed him into the cement wall. The sound of snapping bones rang out.
"Why" She grunted, holding her other hand against her fresh wound.
"You already had the magic" He began, trying to pull his head free from the cement. "You could summon spiders. This was just an experi-"
The girl pushed him harder. Another cracking sound, she dropped the limp body. She stared back down at herself. A disgusting body covered in blood. The crimson was starting to dry across the bright yellow legs. Her heart sank when she looked down at the man. *Did I mean to?*, she asked herself. It felt like a weight on a hook, dragging her stomach into the floor. She clenched her fists and felt hot tears stream down her face. She leaned on to the wall and sobbed. Her legs seemed to adjust by themselves, almost on instinct. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away as she sank to the floor, more blood smearing across the cement into a floor drain at the center of the room. A light flashed into the room as the one metal door swung open. A boy stepped through, a rifle in his hands prodding the room. He glanced down and yelled out. The girl could hear footsteps down the hall. An older man, a greying beard framing his face, stepped through holding a pistol. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. He turned away for a moment to look at the boy, who in turn was unable to take his eyes off the girl attached to such a horrific abomination. Both seemed too shaken to act. Finally, the boy walked over, gun still firmly in hand. He grabbed the light blue coat hanging off the doctor's corpse and handed it to the girl. She pulled it around her torso and looked down at her wound. The boy almost jumped back.
"Dad" He said "We need to take her to the medicine men"
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
Waking up it felt as if i was on fire, like electricity was burning my soul away. Piece by piece it was being ripped away in time with the rhythm of my heart. As soon as i felt that i could not go on something resonated with my mind. All of a sudden that burning was replaced with a tempered heat as if my soul itself was being reborn within those fires.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As i laid there for the next couple minutes it felt as my body was rebooting itself, my senses slowly turning back on. The first thing i noticed was the smell of smoke all around me. Struggling at first, i pushed myself off the ground to try to find the source of the smell. Walking closer to my front door the smell increased in intensity as i neared. As I opened the door i felt a rush of hot air to meet me. Outside the embers of the world that i once knew danced upon the wind like the stars in the skies. The city i had grown up in was on fire, blazing like the gods themselves dropped hell fire upon the world. Suddenly there was a massive explosion and i felt a new way of heat as i was forced to close my eyes against the light. As i the light subsided i traced the sound to the rend that part of the city once occupied.
Looking up from the destruction my heart stop, on the horizon a colossus of a ship had teardrops falling on to the ground that the city once laid. Ice filled within my gut as i gazed upon the damage that the ship had brought. Dread gripping my heart i could only think of one thing, escape.
------------------------------
After that night i began to question myself, what right do i have to live with all those that surely were lost within the eradication of the city. Why was i still alive while all those people were dead. After a few more days i began to hears whispers as the tempered heat came back to me filling me with someone. I did not know what was happening but those whispers started to cooing me into comfort. They whispered that what happened to those in the city was not my fault and that nothing i could've done could've changed what took place there. This soothed my worries some but i kept feeling i there was something that i had to do.
---------------------------------------
A week later i was stopping at a river to drink, i do not know which one anymore as i had lost all form of direction due to my hunger which was a constant pain for me. After finishing i sat on the river bank staring into the water. This was becoming increasing common lately. I do not know if it was the lack of food or the shock of destructed all those days ago but as i stared into those waters the whispers that had been my constant companion began to grow louder and louder. With there musings i began to lose myself in their words, drifting in and out of myself. As i regained myself i felt a cool blanket wrapped around myself. As if nature itself embraced me the sight around me breathtaking. Lilies sprouted around a red maple tree that wrapped around me as if to comfort me. The whispers did not silence as they once did before. Now they murmur in a chorus that clearly rang through me. The warmth that always felt now began to bubble as they spoke. "Through our sacrifice you preserve us." With that the heat within me began to rapidly cool within me, hardening into steel. I knew what i must do in that moment. Without though i heard the words "Retentat ligni vitae, e pluribus unum" come to my mouth. With that i took off, back to the ruined city.
|
The problem with humans is their curiosity. Even after a new species from the stars reigns hell upon every continent, impaling billions on the ends of their spears, curiosity still prevails. When enough people finally lay dead in the streets the survivors came to a realization. Every time someone died it allowed a little more magic to flow through the human race's veins. Bringing us back to the plight and pillar of humanity, curiosity. Or more specifically the curiosity of one Oleg Bishopi, Ph.D. and the charming young girl just waking up among the piles of medical equipment and samples strewn across his basement.
"Wonderful" The Doctor cheered through a thick accent, "We can begin"
"Mmmph" responded the girl through tightly wrapped bandages. Her eyes were wide with fear, something restraining her neck forcing her gaze to the ceiling. She tried to move her legs and felt something entirely new. She attempted to kick her leg and instead felt four legs react. Each one longer than they should be. She tried the other to the same response, only on the other side.
"Your name is Platythomisus Sapien and I am your father" The Doctor stated.
The girl looked at him for a moment, searching for some piece of information to cling onto. An immediate feeling in her chest told her opposite. A moment in time flashed through her mind, cheap birthday streamers clinging to the walls, a handmade lopsided cake, and her father. A tall man in a light green button down, his brown hand on her shoulder with a smile behind his thick mustache. She opened her eyes again, the man in front of her was not her father. His skin was akin to snow, and he had the figure of a beer bottle. He wore a light blue coat that reached his ankles with an apron over top, slick with blood. Thick rubber gloves clung to his hand.
"You'll notice the improvements" He smiled, gesturing towards her lower half.
She jerked against the instrument around her neck. The doctor made a small noise as if just remembering her restraints. He paced over to her and placed a gloved hand around her neck, the other behind her. She heard a click, and suddenly her head was free. She stared down. Her stomach was bare. Her eyes crept down to her waistline, where her skin abruptly became a sickening yellow. Her legs were gone, instead, a large mass took their place. The yellow mass held large black dots across it. Eight spindling legs stretched out with three joints each. At the second joint the leg shifted to a jet black. She screamed.
"Silence, girl" The doctor commanded.
She did not quiet. She flailed her many legs and ripped at her own waist, trying to break free. The doctor stumbled backward. She tore off the restraint at her neck. The doctor began to scramble through his desk. The girl shoved a hand into her waist, amazed at her own strength. Hot blood trickled onto her new arachnid bottom. She pushed hard, a ripping pain seared through her. She screamed louder. The doctor retrieved a needle and thrust it into a nearby bottle.
"I SAID SILENCE!" He cried back.
She grabbed the back of his neck with her bloodied hand. She slammed him into the cement wall. The sound of snapping bones rang out.
"Why" She grunted, holding her other hand against her fresh wound.
"You already had the magic" He began, trying to pull his head free from the cement. "You could summon spiders. This was just an experi-"
The girl pushed him harder. Another cracking sound, she dropped the limp body. She stared back down at herself. A disgusting body covered in blood. The crimson was starting to dry across the bright yellow legs. Her heart sank when she looked down at the man. *Did I mean to?*, she asked herself. It felt like a weight on a hook, dragging her stomach into the floor. She clenched her fists and felt hot tears stream down her face. She leaned on to the wall and sobbed. Her legs seemed to adjust by themselves, almost on instinct. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away as she sank to the floor, more blood smearing across the cement into a floor drain at the center of the room. A light flashed into the room as the one metal door swung open. A boy stepped through, a rifle in his hands prodding the room. He glanced down and yelled out. The girl could hear footsteps down the hall. An older man, a greying beard framing his face, stepped through holding a pistol. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. He turned away for a moment to look at the boy, who in turn was unable to take his eyes off the girl attached to such a horrific abomination. Both seemed too shaken to act. Finally, the boy walked over, gun still firmly in hand. He grabbed the light blue coat hanging off the doctor's corpse and handed it to the girl. She pulled it around her torso and looked down at her wound. The boy almost jumped back.
"Dad" He said "We need to take her to the medicine men"
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
We didn't acknowledge there was anything strange going on - that was, until the second-gen power armor started being able to curve bullets during testing. Right after the Alpha Event in Eurasia that wiped out almost 70% of our population.
The strange thing was, neither the smartrifles mounted on the armor nor the munitions they chambered had any sort of guidance technology. It was almost as if the soldiers had simply willed the guns to hit their targets, even with the silhouette boards 10 feet under a window. Not long after the second generation were deployed, the remaining 2.4 billion members of humanity were treated to some very uplifting news on their vidcasts.
The Enemy's soldiers had not been able to hit their mark. Footage showed human soldiers, in their black, skeletal armor, advancing fearlessly towards their lines, pulse rifle rounds and shrapnel arcing out of the way at the last second to avoid collision with Earth's chosen. It would only be another several months before they were pushed back to a tiny hold in what was formerly Mongolia. But by then, we understood. We had realized our awakening had occurred, and as we always do, we weaponized it. We razed their last bastion here, and we chased them to the ends of the stars, burning their worlds as we came across them. Yes, there are few of us. But our wrath is terrible.
|
The problem with humans is their curiosity. Even after a new species from the stars reigns hell upon every continent, impaling billions on the ends of their spears, curiosity still prevails. When enough people finally lay dead in the streets the survivors came to a realization. Every time someone died it allowed a little more magic to flow through the human race's veins. Bringing us back to the plight and pillar of humanity, curiosity. Or more specifically the curiosity of one Oleg Bishopi, Ph.D. and the charming young girl just waking up among the piles of medical equipment and samples strewn across his basement.
"Wonderful" The Doctor cheered through a thick accent, "We can begin"
"Mmmph" responded the girl through tightly wrapped bandages. Her eyes were wide with fear, something restraining her neck forcing her gaze to the ceiling. She tried to move her legs and felt something entirely new. She attempted to kick her leg and instead felt four legs react. Each one longer than they should be. She tried the other to the same response, only on the other side.
"Your name is Platythomisus Sapien and I am your father" The Doctor stated.
The girl looked at him for a moment, searching for some piece of information to cling onto. An immediate feeling in her chest told her opposite. A moment in time flashed through her mind, cheap birthday streamers clinging to the walls, a handmade lopsided cake, and her father. A tall man in a light green button down, his brown hand on her shoulder with a smile behind his thick mustache. She opened her eyes again, the man in front of her was not her father. His skin was akin to snow, and he had the figure of a beer bottle. He wore a light blue coat that reached his ankles with an apron over top, slick with blood. Thick rubber gloves clung to his hand.
"You'll notice the improvements" He smiled, gesturing towards her lower half.
She jerked against the instrument around her neck. The doctor made a small noise as if just remembering her restraints. He paced over to her and placed a gloved hand around her neck, the other behind her. She heard a click, and suddenly her head was free. She stared down. Her stomach was bare. Her eyes crept down to her waistline, where her skin abruptly became a sickening yellow. Her legs were gone, instead, a large mass took their place. The yellow mass held large black dots across it. Eight spindling legs stretched out with three joints each. At the second joint the leg shifted to a jet black. She screamed.
"Silence, girl" The doctor commanded.
She did not quiet. She flailed her many legs and ripped at her own waist, trying to break free. The doctor stumbled backward. She tore off the restraint at her neck. The doctor began to scramble through his desk. The girl shoved a hand into her waist, amazed at her own strength. Hot blood trickled onto her new arachnid bottom. She pushed hard, a ripping pain seared through her. She screamed louder. The doctor retrieved a needle and thrust it into a nearby bottle.
"I SAID SILENCE!" He cried back.
She grabbed the back of his neck with her bloodied hand. She slammed him into the cement wall. The sound of snapping bones rang out.
"Why" She grunted, holding her other hand against her fresh wound.
"You already had the magic" He began, trying to pull his head free from the cement. "You could summon spiders. This was just an experi-"
The girl pushed him harder. Another cracking sound, she dropped the limp body. She stared back down at herself. A disgusting body covered in blood. The crimson was starting to dry across the bright yellow legs. Her heart sank when she looked down at the man. *Did I mean to?*, she asked herself. It felt like a weight on a hook, dragging her stomach into the floor. She clenched her fists and felt hot tears stream down her face. She leaned on to the wall and sobbed. Her legs seemed to adjust by themselves, almost on instinct. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away as she sank to the floor, more blood smearing across the cement into a floor drain at the center of the room. A light flashed into the room as the one metal door swung open. A boy stepped through, a rifle in his hands prodding the room. He glanced down and yelled out. The girl could hear footsteps down the hall. An older man, a greying beard framing his face, stepped through holding a pistol. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. He turned away for a moment to look at the boy, who in turn was unable to take his eyes off the girl attached to such a horrific abomination. Both seemed too shaken to act. Finally, the boy walked over, gun still firmly in hand. He grabbed the light blue coat hanging off the doctor's corpse and handed it to the girl. She pulled it around her torso and looked down at her wound. The boy almost jumped back.
"Dad" He said "We need to take her to the medicine men"
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
Kevin listened to the Oracle while sitting on the cloth that covered the pile of rubble beneath it. He's heard the tale more times than he can count: on that fateful day, 25th December of the year 2017, fleets of starships darkened the sky, and leveled the human civilization.
The oracle spoke of times when humans were plenty, the time when people would gather in the weekends for drinks, the time when people fought amongst themselves over petty differences… They're all gone now. The aliens wiped them all out. All those years of hard work, all the things they have learned over time, the monuments they managed to build were all erased when the fleet arrived, and, according to the Oracle, “glassed the planet”. The oracle never spoke about how many were killed, perhaps even he doesn't know. He did however, spoke in detail as to the destruction of civilizations: How the tallest buildings erupted in flames, how the people simply turned to ash without even burning, how none managed to find out a way to deal with the aliens despite many of them spending thousands of hours practicing how to fight them…
The next part always dreads Kevin. The oracle would move close to him, ignite the candles in the hut with a motion of his hand, and tell Kevin it is his destiny to overthrow the aliens, before telling him to put out the candles without leaving his seat.
Kevin sat as still as he can. This is going to be another failure, another time he would disappoint the Oracle and his people… It's not like he doesn't have any idea on what the oracle wants him to do. Kevin knew the oracle meant for him to create a gust of wind with his mind, similar to how the Oracle lit the candles with his mind.
“Oracle…” Kevin said while lowering his head in shame, “you know I can't do it, I've been trying since the first time I was here. There's just nothing I can do...”
Kevin remained in his seat, concentrating on creating a wind to put out all the candles. He had been doing this dance every week since he was ten. And now, five years later, he still hasn't been able to accomplish this simple feat.
Kevin continued to think of the wind, a strong breeze came through the door, blowing out all the candles. Just as Kevin was wondering whether this meant success for him, the Oracle signaled him to hide under the rug he was sitting on, before doing so himself. Kevin knew the alien patrols are nearby. Unlike putting out the candles, hiding from aliens is never something he had trouble with. Although he is having a tingly feeling, something is not right.
And then he realized, none of them packed the candles. He pondered what he should do, as he heard the footsteps of three aliens jumping onto the ground. Each step they take, their greaves make a sound that warns everyone nearby of their presence. The message is clear -- be out of their sight, or be killed.
The footsteps growing ever closer. The aliens will search the area when they see the candles. Kevin thought of his next step. There are none. Had he been able to put out the candles earlier…
The scream of the Oracle pulled Kevin back to reality. As he peeked from a hole in his cover, he saw one of the aliens, in his shiny silver armor, holding the Oracle in the air. The other two were stand next to him, crossing their arms, probably enjoying the sight of their comrade killing an old man.
Kevin thought of what he should do: continue to hide, and let the aliens take his mentor? Or would he try to fight them, and die. The Oracle would never wanted him to throw his life away for anyone, that he knows. He is important to overthrowing the aliens. But what good would he be if he didn't save the man that taught him everything. What good would he be if he died here...
Another scream. Kevin two pieces of debris, got out of his cover, and hurled them at the aliens. The aliens stood steadfast, letting their armor deflect the rocks. Kevin picked up another one, threw it at them again, nothing. Another one, and another…
Until his arms grew tired and his couldn't pick up anymore rocks. The aliens looked at one another, as one of them produced a pistols from his holster, and began taking aim at Kevin…
*Why am I so useless*
Kevin thought to himself as he stared the alien in the eyes, prepared to die, he is useless anyway.
The alien squeezed the trigger, a blue bolt of energy launched at Kevin. He instinctively raised his hand at the bolt. Just as the bolt was about to hit him, he felt a warm wave of energy concentrate on his hand, flowing to his palm, and outward to the incoming projectile.
The bolt hit his hand, but it didn't hurt. And the feeling of warmth continued flowing through Kevin.
Kevin concentrated, looking at the aliens who are going to kill his friend. He let the energy wave concentrate on his hand again. Except this time the feeling is much more intense. He looked at the aliens one more time, and unleashed the wave of energy at them. He watched as his assailants come into contact with the wave of blue energy, and burned to ash in mere seconds.
Kevin rushes towards the Oracle and helped him get up. Together, they packed up their camp and headed home.
|
The problem with humans is their curiosity. Even after a new species from the stars reigns hell upon every continent, impaling billions on the ends of their spears, curiosity still prevails. When enough people finally lay dead in the streets the survivors came to a realization. Every time someone died it allowed a little more magic to flow through the human race's veins. Bringing us back to the plight and pillar of humanity, curiosity. Or more specifically the curiosity of one Oleg Bishopi, Ph.D. and the charming young girl just waking up among the piles of medical equipment and samples strewn across his basement.
"Wonderful" The Doctor cheered through a thick accent, "We can begin"
"Mmmph" responded the girl through tightly wrapped bandages. Her eyes were wide with fear, something restraining her neck forcing her gaze to the ceiling. She tried to move her legs and felt something entirely new. She attempted to kick her leg and instead felt four legs react. Each one longer than they should be. She tried the other to the same response, only on the other side.
"Your name is Platythomisus Sapien and I am your father" The Doctor stated.
The girl looked at him for a moment, searching for some piece of information to cling onto. An immediate feeling in her chest told her opposite. A moment in time flashed through her mind, cheap birthday streamers clinging to the walls, a handmade lopsided cake, and her father. A tall man in a light green button down, his brown hand on her shoulder with a smile behind his thick mustache. She opened her eyes again, the man in front of her was not her father. His skin was akin to snow, and he had the figure of a beer bottle. He wore a light blue coat that reached his ankles with an apron over top, slick with blood. Thick rubber gloves clung to his hand.
"You'll notice the improvements" He smiled, gesturing towards her lower half.
She jerked against the instrument around her neck. The doctor made a small noise as if just remembering her restraints. He paced over to her and placed a gloved hand around her neck, the other behind her. She heard a click, and suddenly her head was free. She stared down. Her stomach was bare. Her eyes crept down to her waistline, where her skin abruptly became a sickening yellow. Her legs were gone, instead, a large mass took their place. The yellow mass held large black dots across it. Eight spindling legs stretched out with three joints each. At the second joint the leg shifted to a jet black. She screamed.
"Silence, girl" The doctor commanded.
She did not quiet. She flailed her many legs and ripped at her own waist, trying to break free. The doctor stumbled backward. She tore off the restraint at her neck. The doctor began to scramble through his desk. The girl shoved a hand into her waist, amazed at her own strength. Hot blood trickled onto her new arachnid bottom. She pushed hard, a ripping pain seared through her. She screamed louder. The doctor retrieved a needle and thrust it into a nearby bottle.
"I SAID SILENCE!" He cried back.
She grabbed the back of his neck with her bloodied hand. She slammed him into the cement wall. The sound of snapping bones rang out.
"Why" She grunted, holding her other hand against her fresh wound.
"You already had the magic" He began, trying to pull his head free from the cement. "You could summon spiders. This was just an experi-"
The girl pushed him harder. Another cracking sound, she dropped the limp body. She stared back down at herself. A disgusting body covered in blood. The crimson was starting to dry across the bright yellow legs. Her heart sank when she looked down at the man. *Did I mean to?*, she asked herself. It felt like a weight on a hook, dragging her stomach into the floor. She clenched her fists and felt hot tears stream down her face. She leaned on to the wall and sobbed. Her legs seemed to adjust by themselves, almost on instinct. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away as she sank to the floor, more blood smearing across the cement into a floor drain at the center of the room. A light flashed into the room as the one metal door swung open. A boy stepped through, a rifle in his hands prodding the room. He glanced down and yelled out. The girl could hear footsteps down the hall. An older man, a greying beard framing his face, stepped through holding a pistol. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. He turned away for a moment to look at the boy, who in turn was unable to take his eyes off the girl attached to such a horrific abomination. Both seemed too shaken to act. Finally, the boy walked over, gun still firmly in hand. He grabbed the light blue coat hanging off the doctor's corpse and handed it to the girl. She pulled it around her torso and looked down at her wound. The boy almost jumped back.
"Dad" He said "We need to take her to the medicine men"
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
I don't know how to start here. None of this makes any sense.
I grew up watching the old Superman movies on tape. I grew up wanting to be like the man himself; I always thought I'd do what he did if I ended up with his powers. I remember fantasizing about it maybe a week before first contact; it was a thought I had often.
I told myself I'd skip the subtext and buy an actual Superman costume online before I went flying around the world chucking nukes into deep space and putting out forest fires. So that when people saw me coming, they'd know I was coming to help.
There are a few problems with that now. The first one that comes to mind is, there's no one left to impress like that. The other six survivors don't need or want Superman right now, besides, you guys are all as invincible as I am.
Second, I'm not as good a guy as Clark Kent ever was. I see that now; let me explain. There are seven human beings still alive on Earth; the rest of us were wiped out by aliens. They brought colony ships the size of the Moon, dozens of them; you can see the whole fleet at night. I can't imagine how many of them there are. Hundreds of billions? Trillions?
Trillions of them against seven of us, and we're winning. One of us brought down a colony ship yesterday. Again, this thing was moon-sized and filled with billions of aliens. She took a running start and jumped from the Earth's surface hard enough to punch a hole out the back of the ship. The whole thing just shattered into scrap metal.
I think we should surrender. I haven't said so out loud, not to any of you, but I still think it. Seven of us against trillions of them, and why are we fighting? I don't think it's for revenge, but it's something close. It isn't to save the world; we got these powers too late for that. Therein lies the problem. Nothing we do to these invaders will bring back the people they killled. Our actions from now on can only decide what happens to us and the aliens. I think a trillion lives are worth more than seven, no matter how we ended up in this situation. No matter who those lives are, human or otherwise.
I dunno if you agree with that or not. I dunno which choice Superman would make. I can't even picture him thinking of a moral dilemma like this. To Superman, the right thing to do is instantly obvious. Me though; I have to think on it.
So I thought on it, and I realized something. Whatever the source of our powers is, whether you call it magic or mana or Light or a million other things; there is a source. It's something only humans can use. And we can be reasonably sure evolution just doesn't do this.
I think there's a God. I never believed in Him before first contact, and for a while afterward I kinda figured the existence of aliens confirmed it. I read a book once that had this line about evolution. *There were only two known causes of purposeful complexity. Natural selection, which produced things like butterflies. And intelligent engineering, which produced things like cars.*
This magic, whatever it really is, it didn't evolve. It was created, and whatever entity has the resources to create a source of magic must, by definition, be a god. One that specifically took interest in humans for a number of possible reasons, including ones suggested by a few of our religions. And those religions usually also claim that God has *been* here, to Earth, and spoke in person with His creations. Wherever He is now, he hasn't been paying attention.
One inference leads to another. If magic, then God. If God, then Heaven. If Heaven, then afterlife and souls and *one possible chance* to undo the extinction of the human race and end the conflict with these aliens without murdering them all. God isn't paying attention though, so someone has to go find Him and tell Him to look this way.
I'm leaving. I don't know what will happen to me if I fly too far from Earth or the Sun; maybe the magic will cut off and I'll need air again and I'll die out there in space. I don't even know where I'm going; which way God went; so I'm relying on faith and that sounds like a shitty plan, but I have to do it.
I leave this note to you, the six of you, and I hope you forgive me. I hope you do what you can to spare the enemy's life, and I hope I come back one day to fix this. If not, this is my suicide note. There are worse ways to die.
I have to do this. The chance to save seven billion lives, however slim, is worth the risk to my one life, however great. Now that I think about it, that does sound almost like what Superman might say.
Goodbye.
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The problem with humans is their curiosity. Even after a new species from the stars reigns hell upon every continent, impaling billions on the ends of their spears, curiosity still prevails. When enough people finally lay dead in the streets the survivors came to a realization. Every time someone died it allowed a little more magic to flow through the human race's veins. Bringing us back to the plight and pillar of humanity, curiosity. Or more specifically the curiosity of one Oleg Bishopi, Ph.D. and the charming young girl just waking up among the piles of medical equipment and samples strewn across his basement.
"Wonderful" The Doctor cheered through a thick accent, "We can begin"
"Mmmph" responded the girl through tightly wrapped bandages. Her eyes were wide with fear, something restraining her neck forcing her gaze to the ceiling. She tried to move her legs and felt something entirely new. She attempted to kick her leg and instead felt four legs react. Each one longer than they should be. She tried the other to the same response, only on the other side.
"Your name is Platythomisus Sapien and I am your father" The Doctor stated.
The girl looked at him for a moment, searching for some piece of information to cling onto. An immediate feeling in her chest told her opposite. A moment in time flashed through her mind, cheap birthday streamers clinging to the walls, a handmade lopsided cake, and her father. A tall man in a light green button down, his brown hand on her shoulder with a smile behind his thick mustache. She opened her eyes again, the man in front of her was not her father. His skin was akin to snow, and he had the figure of a beer bottle. He wore a light blue coat that reached his ankles with an apron over top, slick with blood. Thick rubber gloves clung to his hand.
"You'll notice the improvements" He smiled, gesturing towards her lower half.
She jerked against the instrument around her neck. The doctor made a small noise as if just remembering her restraints. He paced over to her and placed a gloved hand around her neck, the other behind her. She heard a click, and suddenly her head was free. She stared down. Her stomach was bare. Her eyes crept down to her waistline, where her skin abruptly became a sickening yellow. Her legs were gone, instead, a large mass took their place. The yellow mass held large black dots across it. Eight spindling legs stretched out with three joints each. At the second joint the leg shifted to a jet black. She screamed.
"Silence, girl" The doctor commanded.
She did not quiet. She flailed her many legs and ripped at her own waist, trying to break free. The doctor stumbled backward. She tore off the restraint at her neck. The doctor began to scramble through his desk. The girl shoved a hand into her waist, amazed at her own strength. Hot blood trickled onto her new arachnid bottom. She pushed hard, a ripping pain seared through her. She screamed louder. The doctor retrieved a needle and thrust it into a nearby bottle.
"I SAID SILENCE!" He cried back.
She grabbed the back of his neck with her bloodied hand. She slammed him into the cement wall. The sound of snapping bones rang out.
"Why" She grunted, holding her other hand against her fresh wound.
"You already had the magic" He began, trying to pull his head free from the cement. "You could summon spiders. This was just an experi-"
The girl pushed him harder. Another cracking sound, she dropped the limp body. She stared back down at herself. A disgusting body covered in blood. The crimson was starting to dry across the bright yellow legs. Her heart sank when she looked down at the man. *Did I mean to?*, she asked herself. It felt like a weight on a hook, dragging her stomach into the floor. She clenched her fists and felt hot tears stream down her face. She leaned on to the wall and sobbed. Her legs seemed to adjust by themselves, almost on instinct. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away as she sank to the floor, more blood smearing across the cement into a floor drain at the center of the room. A light flashed into the room as the one metal door swung open. A boy stepped through, a rifle in his hands prodding the room. He glanced down and yelled out. The girl could hear footsteps down the hall. An older man, a greying beard framing his face, stepped through holding a pistol. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. He turned away for a moment to look at the boy, who in turn was unable to take his eyes off the girl attached to such a horrific abomination. Both seemed too shaken to act. Finally, the boy walked over, gun still firmly in hand. He grabbed the light blue coat hanging off the doctor's corpse and handed it to the girl. She pulled it around her torso and looked down at her wound. The boy almost jumped back.
"Dad" He said "We need to take her to the medicine men"
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[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
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There is a crucial aspect to conflict one must remember above all else; when victory is the desired outcome, all costs must be put on the line. If you truly seek your goal, you must be willing to sacrifice everything. Because if it comes down to it, that moment when you must choose between victory and survival… the choice must be obvious.
---
I wouldn’t have been able to do it without him. Not that the task was impossible with only one person, but the sheer magnitude of the decision, the guilt of suffering the consequences – it was too much for my morality to endure. I still harbor some resentment, and I wish there was another way. But I have no regrets. If it was necessary, I’d do it all again. The gnawing at the back of my head, telling me I was selfish and incompetent, never stopped. I accept it as punishment for my sin. No amount of atonement could justify the deaths of so many.
I find it hard to believe, myself. The display had counted 7.9 billion – the outcome was so harsh that it was easier to count the survivors than try to comprehend the casualties.
I suppose I must start at the beginning.
---
My name is Daijiro Kojima. I grew up in Moni, a country town at the foot of a mountain. Our people disliked the modern world, and chose to abstain from the technologies of the so-called Western Man. My brother Kentaro disproved of this very much. He scolded our chief often for being “ancient” and “dictatorial.” I couldn’t disagree with his accusations, as they were, to an extent, true. We held to old customs, and we clung to the advice and teachings of our chief. It was unsafe to wander outside the fence, thanks to the wolves roaming the forest, so we were largely restricted to wandering the farms and the streets. It was a peaceful life, though, and we ate well in the company of our families.
Every week we gathered to pay tribute to the Effigy of the Mount, feeding it the fruits of our farms and cattle so it could sustain us with bountiful harvests. I didn’t know how, but the soil here was… different. To this day I was unsure of it, perhaps being a trick of the light or just my imagination, but the ground seemed to give off an ever so faint glow under the moon, just barely noticeable. I attributed the glow to be the spirit of the mount moving in the ground. Every year we reaped rewards that far exceeded the effort we put in.
We thanked the chief for his leadership, and we thanked the mount for its generosity. We were merry and happy.
---
Kentaro and I always trained with the village guardsmen, learning how to use the sword and be fleet of foot. The latter skills were always emphasized, as the chief said that our swordsmanship would be no match for the weapons of the outside world. The elders, those who travelled across the land and meditated in the fields, told us stories of the Western Man – I always wondered about the term, as they were apparently to the East and North too, even the South where the ocean is. Why call them Western if they are everywhere? But, I digress. The elders told us of the extensive range of their armaments, and the frightening speed of their attacks. It was something out of a magic story, I was sure. Kentaro told me he would protect me if the Western Man came to our village, but I always shrugged him off. We were both past childhood anyway. I was more than capable of protecting myself.
But I never expected us to be the ones killing them.
---
It happened while I was picking a primrose for mother. I’d been growing one behind one of the storehouses, so it would be kept a surprise. She loved flowers, especially pink ones. It would make the perfect birthday present. It became dark so suddenly that I thought a vine had torn off the storehouse and fallen over me, but I looked up to see the clouds break apart and disappear, absorbed into a blackened sky. It was dark as night, and I stumbled through the leaves towards light. After feeling along the sides of building walls along the street for a while, amidst panicking women and screaming children, I found myself in the village square. Guards ran to and for with torches, yelling to each other and ushering civilians to safety. I saw my father carrying boxes with some other men. I was confused – why was the sky black? Had the sun run away before the moon was ready to wake? Was the Mount angry at us?
And then Kentaro was by my side.
“Hey, Dai… everything’s going to be okay, hear me? We’ll figure this out.”
I nodded. The chief stumbled past with a heavy box, but my brother caught him by the shoulder.
“Hey, old man, what’s going on? Where’s the light gone?”
Eyes wide, the chief turned to us. “Get everyone you can find and gather them at the effigy. I had no idea they would return, not at a time like this.”
“What are you talking about? Are we under attack?”
“I’ll explain everything later. The most important thing now is to get everyone to safety. Here,” he fumbled in his pocked for a second and retrieved a small object, shoving it into Kentaro’s hand. “Take this. Offer it to the effigy as you would a tribute. We need to protect everyone we can.”
“You got it, old man. Come on, Dai.”
So we took a torch and scampered about, sending everyone we could at the effigy. Mother showed up too, and I suddenly remembered the primrose I’d left behind the storehouse. She asked about our father, and we didn’t see him there. More of the guardsmen were arriving, and he wasn’t among them. Kentaro and I left to look for him, starting first at the barracks then progressing through the streets. We figured he’d gone to the effigy while we were searching, so we started heading back. However, as we passed a farm we saw a dozen or so men staring at the sky. We followed their gaze and there, in the air above us, we saw the blackness move. It seemed to bend and shift, as if it was a giant piece of cartilage. Parts of it seemed to brighten slightly, and I saw a multitude of small specks appearing from the lighter parts. I watched as the specks grew larger, then realized they were distant objects heading towards us. Kentaro put his hand on my shoulder.
“Dai… we should go.”
“But… what are those? Birds?”
“Whatever they are, it can’t be good.”
For a second there was a bright flash amidst the objects, and a split second later the farmers screamed. The dirt around them erupted, spewing mounds of soil into the air. They scrambled back, running for the effigy. Kentaro and I didn’t hesitate any longer. When we returned, the chief was waiting for us, more stressed than I’d ever seen him.
“You left and took the key with you?! Do you have any idea of the risk you just put us in?!” His loud voice drew several eyes from those around us.
“Oh, sorry… this thing, right?” Kentaro drew out the object he’d been given before. It was about half the size of his palm, colored black and shaped like a disc, engraved with the face of a cat, just like the one on the effigy. They say that black cats are a sign of good fortune. And by the looks of things, we’re going to need all the fortune we can get.
“Yes yes yes – give it here!” The chief snatched the disc from Kentaro’s hand and hurried over to the effigy, dropping it in the tribute slot. The disc would travel down a pipe and end up… somewhere. I was unsure of where the tributes ended up but I was certain it wasn’t underneath the chief’s house like some kids had joked.
“What now, old man?” Kentaro asked, arms on his hips.
“Ken, show some respect.” Father said, appearing from the group to slap Kentaro across the back.
“S-sorry, chief.”
The chief was silent, instead speaking with a sly grin. The earth shook, forcing me to steady myself on Kentaro’s arm. The effigy broke open, splitting the cat’s face in two. There were several loud gasps and outcries from those gathered, but the chief urged them to calm down. The cracked effigy left a big hole in the ground, laden with steps that seemed to descend to the center of the earth.
“Everyone, follow me! Carry everything you can!” The chief yelled, rushing down the hole and disappearing into the darkness, followed by the residents from the village. I looked back to the objects in the sky, which were approaching all the while. They must’ve been a hundred miles when we first saw them, but I was sure they were a mere couple miles away now.
I felt a pair of hands gripping my shoulders, moving me forward. “Come on, Dai, let’s go!” Kentaro had a huge smile on his face, eyes wide.
“Brother..?”
“This is exciting, right? Something different is happening!” Did he fail to notice the power of those things? Exploding the ground from so far away in an instant? He always was a strange one, I suppose.
So we descended the steps, each of us carrying a box of supplies. Food, I think. We travelled for maybe 10 minutes, and I felt the temperature slowly dropping. I looked up and could no longer see the entrance nor feel the rumbling from the explosions. Eventually we reached a flat area of dirt, about the size of a house interior. The whole village crowded there, staring at the large wall opposite the end of the steps. It was made of metal, and shined so clearly that in the light of the torches, we could see our reflections. The wall was adorned with strange markings and indentations. The chief walked up to it, putting a hand against it. He sighed, as if in disappointment. I saw his lips move, but he made no sound.
**PART TWO IN CHILD COMMENT**
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The problem with humans is their curiosity. Even after a new species from the stars reigns hell upon every continent, impaling billions on the ends of their spears, curiosity still prevails. When enough people finally lay dead in the streets the survivors came to a realization. Every time someone died it allowed a little more magic to flow through the human race's veins. Bringing us back to the plight and pillar of humanity, curiosity. Or more specifically the curiosity of one Oleg Bishopi, Ph.D. and the charming young girl just waking up among the piles of medical equipment and samples strewn across his basement.
"Wonderful" The Doctor cheered through a thick accent, "We can begin"
"Mmmph" responded the girl through tightly wrapped bandages. Her eyes were wide with fear, something restraining her neck forcing her gaze to the ceiling. She tried to move her legs and felt something entirely new. She attempted to kick her leg and instead felt four legs react. Each one longer than they should be. She tried the other to the same response, only on the other side.
"Your name is Platythomisus Sapien and I am your father" The Doctor stated.
The girl looked at him for a moment, searching for some piece of information to cling onto. An immediate feeling in her chest told her opposite. A moment in time flashed through her mind, cheap birthday streamers clinging to the walls, a handmade lopsided cake, and her father. A tall man in a light green button down, his brown hand on her shoulder with a smile behind his thick mustache. She opened her eyes again, the man in front of her was not her father. His skin was akin to snow, and he had the figure of a beer bottle. He wore a light blue coat that reached his ankles with an apron over top, slick with blood. Thick rubber gloves clung to his hand.
"You'll notice the improvements" He smiled, gesturing towards her lower half.
She jerked against the instrument around her neck. The doctor made a small noise as if just remembering her restraints. He paced over to her and placed a gloved hand around her neck, the other behind her. She heard a click, and suddenly her head was free. She stared down. Her stomach was bare. Her eyes crept down to her waistline, where her skin abruptly became a sickening yellow. Her legs were gone, instead, a large mass took their place. The yellow mass held large black dots across it. Eight spindling legs stretched out with three joints each. At the second joint the leg shifted to a jet black. She screamed.
"Silence, girl" The doctor commanded.
She did not quiet. She flailed her many legs and ripped at her own waist, trying to break free. The doctor stumbled backward. She tore off the restraint at her neck. The doctor began to scramble through his desk. The girl shoved a hand into her waist, amazed at her own strength. Hot blood trickled onto her new arachnid bottom. She pushed hard, a ripping pain seared through her. She screamed louder. The doctor retrieved a needle and thrust it into a nearby bottle.
"I SAID SILENCE!" He cried back.
She grabbed the back of his neck with her bloodied hand. She slammed him into the cement wall. The sound of snapping bones rang out.
"Why" She grunted, holding her other hand against her fresh wound.
"You already had the magic" He began, trying to pull his head free from the cement. "You could summon spiders. This was just an experi-"
The girl pushed him harder. Another cracking sound, she dropped the limp body. She stared back down at herself. A disgusting body covered in blood. The crimson was starting to dry across the bright yellow legs. Her heart sank when she looked down at the man. *Did I mean to?*, she asked herself. It felt like a weight on a hook, dragging her stomach into the floor. She clenched her fists and felt hot tears stream down her face. She leaned on to the wall and sobbed. Her legs seemed to adjust by themselves, almost on instinct. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away as she sank to the floor, more blood smearing across the cement into a floor drain at the center of the room. A light flashed into the room as the one metal door swung open. A boy stepped through, a rifle in his hands prodding the room. He glanced down and yelled out. The girl could hear footsteps down the hall. An older man, a greying beard framing his face, stepped through holding a pistol. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. He turned away for a moment to look at the boy, who in turn was unable to take his eyes off the girl attached to such a horrific abomination. Both seemed too shaken to act. Finally, the boy walked over, gun still firmly in hand. He grabbed the light blue coat hanging off the doctor's corpse and handed it to the girl. She pulled it around her torso and looked down at her wound. The boy almost jumped back.
"Dad" He said "We need to take her to the medicine men"
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[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
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Turns out the universe isn't cold and uncaring. Turns out the universe actually wants to give us what we want. Turns out 8 billion people all projecting their wishes out into the fuzzy warm-hearted void of existence confuses the heck out of the old machinery. What I mean to say is of the bunch of us humans shouting at mama universe, those who got what they were wishing for were few and far between; the odd miracle here and there, a “lucky toss” once in awhile. You get it.
It's different now. When the culling began, I...no, let me skip this part. Slowly, during the months after the event, people thought they were going crazy. Some of the surviving doctors called it PTSD or something. The more susceptible started hearing this background chatter emerge from the white noise narrated stream of consciousness. Took us another 4 billion lost for the first to get it. They were hearing the fearful calls of their brethrens’ minds. Some of the resistance’ stands got 'lucky’. Nothing sustainable, remotely helpful in the big picture; not that any even put it even together until way later anyways.
On the way down to the last wretched few all of this got stronger, more noticeable until even most doubting could no longer deny having joined their fellow men (as few of us as remained) in a shared mind. Some called it God, some Gaia, some just called it magic. It really don’t matter. Once you figure out that you dreamed up this world together, it's not a huge stretch of imagination to imagine the intruders gone. Wasn't even a fight anymore.
Billions lost, just a few ragged men and women with the power to raise cities from the oceans. We prospered fast, as they say we did before. But we also grew fast. Now, only very few can still hear the voices of mind and even fewer can get their small wishes heard by the void.
****
The old man harrumphed, happy with his audience's captivated gazes. He sharpened his mind’s words into a needle tip of will and let it fly, making the fire in the cave in their midst flare, just for a second. His tribe exclaimed with exaltation at the power their shaman wielded.
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The problem with humans is their curiosity. Even after a new species from the stars reigns hell upon every continent, impaling billions on the ends of their spears, curiosity still prevails. When enough people finally lay dead in the streets the survivors came to a realization. Every time someone died it allowed a little more magic to flow through the human race's veins. Bringing us back to the plight and pillar of humanity, curiosity. Or more specifically the curiosity of one Oleg Bishopi, Ph.D. and the charming young girl just waking up among the piles of medical equipment and samples strewn across his basement.
"Wonderful" The Doctor cheered through a thick accent, "We can begin"
"Mmmph" responded the girl through tightly wrapped bandages. Her eyes were wide with fear, something restraining her neck forcing her gaze to the ceiling. She tried to move her legs and felt something entirely new. She attempted to kick her leg and instead felt four legs react. Each one longer than they should be. She tried the other to the same response, only on the other side.
"Your name is Platythomisus Sapien and I am your father" The Doctor stated.
The girl looked at him for a moment, searching for some piece of information to cling onto. An immediate feeling in her chest told her opposite. A moment in time flashed through her mind, cheap birthday streamers clinging to the walls, a handmade lopsided cake, and her father. A tall man in a light green button down, his brown hand on her shoulder with a smile behind his thick mustache. She opened her eyes again, the man in front of her was not her father. His skin was akin to snow, and he had the figure of a beer bottle. He wore a light blue coat that reached his ankles with an apron over top, slick with blood. Thick rubber gloves clung to his hand.
"You'll notice the improvements" He smiled, gesturing towards her lower half.
She jerked against the instrument around her neck. The doctor made a small noise as if just remembering her restraints. He paced over to her and placed a gloved hand around her neck, the other behind her. She heard a click, and suddenly her head was free. She stared down. Her stomach was bare. Her eyes crept down to her waistline, where her skin abruptly became a sickening yellow. Her legs were gone, instead, a large mass took their place. The yellow mass held large black dots across it. Eight spindling legs stretched out with three joints each. At the second joint the leg shifted to a jet black. She screamed.
"Silence, girl" The doctor commanded.
She did not quiet. She flailed her many legs and ripped at her own waist, trying to break free. The doctor stumbled backward. She tore off the restraint at her neck. The doctor began to scramble through his desk. The girl shoved a hand into her waist, amazed at her own strength. Hot blood trickled onto her new arachnid bottom. She pushed hard, a ripping pain seared through her. She screamed louder. The doctor retrieved a needle and thrust it into a nearby bottle.
"I SAID SILENCE!" He cried back.
She grabbed the back of his neck with her bloodied hand. She slammed him into the cement wall. The sound of snapping bones rang out.
"Why" She grunted, holding her other hand against her fresh wound.
"You already had the magic" He began, trying to pull his head free from the cement. "You could summon spiders. This was just an experi-"
The girl pushed him harder. Another cracking sound, she dropped the limp body. She stared back down at herself. A disgusting body covered in blood. The crimson was starting to dry across the bright yellow legs. Her heart sank when she looked down at the man. *Did I mean to?*, she asked herself. It felt like a weight on a hook, dragging her stomach into the floor. She clenched her fists and felt hot tears stream down her face. She leaned on to the wall and sobbed. Her legs seemed to adjust by themselves, almost on instinct. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away as she sank to the floor, more blood smearing across the cement into a floor drain at the center of the room. A light flashed into the room as the one metal door swung open. A boy stepped through, a rifle in his hands prodding the room. He glanced down and yelled out. The girl could hear footsteps down the hall. An older man, a greying beard framing his face, stepped through holding a pistol. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. He turned away for a moment to look at the boy, who in turn was unable to take his eyes off the girl attached to such a horrific abomination. Both seemed too shaken to act. Finally, the boy walked over, gun still firmly in hand. He grabbed the light blue coat hanging off the doctor's corpse and handed it to the girl. She pulled it around her torso and looked down at her wound. The boy almost jumped back.
"Dad" He said "We need to take her to the medicine men"
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
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There were some that called it a sign from God, another purging of humanity like the great flood. I never cared, all that I needed to know was that they were smart, and didn't like to go underground, best place for safe houses in my opinion. I was in one of these so called safe houses, if a sewer tunnel filled with lamps and sleeping bags counts as a house, that I first heard these claims.
Left that particular house after that conversation, it wasn't safe. The bastards killed everyone there, by the time I returned the tunnel had collapsed. No signs of life anywhere.
4 weeks ago humanity was attacked by a race of unknown origin. Humanity fought back but it was useless. These things, or "clickers" as the survivor colonies refer to them due to their habit of releasing a strange clicking sound, ever seen that movie Predator? Like the predator clicks. Anyway these clickers were ruthless and brutally efficient. Russia was the first major nation to go down, falling in only 7 hours, soon all of Asia was conquered. Fast forwards 4 weeks and humans have become rats, running through tunnels, breaching the surface only for food or water.
Under earth is safer than above it. I don't know why but they hate it underground, they won't search through tunnels too often. But if they know someone's there they will come.
On this particular day I was sleeping in an above ground safe house. More accurately in one of the cars of an abandoned military train. The thing was perfect, armored, still functioning partway so it was warm and could lock up very tightly. I was bundled in my sleeping bag in a car that had the doors sealed tight. I had awoken from a sound I had heard outside. Namely the gunshots.
That was about 30 minutes ago. But 2 minutes previously I thought I had heard a familiar clicking. I inhaled and sure enough the stench of motor oil and salt water hit my nostrils, an odd odor that clickers emitted.
Suddenly the side of the car rattled as someone, or something, tried to open the door. It rattled a few more times before there was a bang that blasted the door into pieces.
The clicker regarded me, I don't actually know what the things look like, they're always wearing the same armor, rectangular slabs of metal. It raised a serrated blade and charged.
I stumbled backwards and my left hand fell into an open control panel full of wires I had to cut to disable the alarm systems on the cars. There was still electricity in those cables. I was expecting a massive pain, I'd maybe to blackout. What I wasn't expecting was for the energy to travel down my arm and then blast from my other hand straight into the clicker. Whatever metal that armor was apparently conducted electricity as the clicker shrieked, then collapsed into the ground, smoke pouring from in between the plates.
I looked at my hand, blue energy danced from my fingers, suddenly a loud howl broke the eerie silence, a howl that meant a clicker had heart the blast. The things were slow, I likely had 5 minutes. I had packed my bag and was about to go when I glanced at the dead clicker. Curiosity struck but I still needed to get away.
Do I: Run or Investigate the Body
Edit: continuing story.
I ran over to the thing, maybe finally a chance to see what they looked like, that metal was probably valuable as well. I looked all over the armor and finally found a small blue pad on the neck, I pressed it and with hissing steam the plates folded away revealing the front of the thing.
I understood now why they covered their faces. The skin was like tanned cow hide, it was covered in what looks like blisters. The eyes were dark and hollow. The worst part was the mandible jaw. Strangely if the mandible jaw was closed the creature might look human.
The howling got louder. I remembered I was on a schedule, I grabbed anything that looked useful. An odd device that looked like a flashlight with a grip and trigger, a few plates of armor, and the blade it had held. A blade that resembled a knife sized serrated Khopesh.
Now I had picked up a few tricks since this whole thing went down, one of which was that most clickers with the exception of a few that has been wearing red plates instead of black, seemed to be blind. A scientist I had met in the first week said the clicking was echolactation, wait that wasn't it... Oh who cares.
They relied on smell to distinguish each other and that armor still had the salty oil smell. I put the plates back into place, with a groan hoisted the dead clicker out, lay down in the armor and pressed the blue button.
The layers closed down and everything was dark, of course if these things things were blind a visor wasn't needed. The second thing I noticed was that there was still a LOT of electricity surging through the armor.
Now I'm no scientist but I'm fairly certain I should have been cooked alive. No time for that now. I tried to tear the helmet off and somehow succeeded. I sprinted out of there, the armor surprisingly light, snagging my pack under my arm as I ran.
7 years, and many incinerations, electrocutions, crushings, and drownings later the clickers finally retreated. Leaving behind only a strange gold box, oddly resembling an Egyptian coffin. Nobody could open it. I walked up to it and slid the blade I'd carried for seven years into a small slot in the box. It clicked and opened and I was staring at my own dead body...
Roger woke with a start. "Okay that's it, no more pizza before sleep."
|
The problem with humans is their curiosity. Even after a new species from the stars reigns hell upon every continent, impaling billions on the ends of their spears, curiosity still prevails. When enough people finally lay dead in the streets the survivors came to a realization. Every time someone died it allowed a little more magic to flow through the human race's veins. Bringing us back to the plight and pillar of humanity, curiosity. Or more specifically the curiosity of one Oleg Bishopi, Ph.D. and the charming young girl just waking up among the piles of medical equipment and samples strewn across his basement.
"Wonderful" The Doctor cheered through a thick accent, "We can begin"
"Mmmph" responded the girl through tightly wrapped bandages. Her eyes were wide with fear, something restraining her neck forcing her gaze to the ceiling. She tried to move her legs and felt something entirely new. She attempted to kick her leg and instead felt four legs react. Each one longer than they should be. She tried the other to the same response, only on the other side.
"Your name is Platythomisus Sapien and I am your father" The Doctor stated.
The girl looked at him for a moment, searching for some piece of information to cling onto. An immediate feeling in her chest told her opposite. A moment in time flashed through her mind, cheap birthday streamers clinging to the walls, a handmade lopsided cake, and her father. A tall man in a light green button down, his brown hand on her shoulder with a smile behind his thick mustache. She opened her eyes again, the man in front of her was not her father. His skin was akin to snow, and he had the figure of a beer bottle. He wore a light blue coat that reached his ankles with an apron over top, slick with blood. Thick rubber gloves clung to his hand.
"You'll notice the improvements" He smiled, gesturing towards her lower half.
She jerked against the instrument around her neck. The doctor made a small noise as if just remembering her restraints. He paced over to her and placed a gloved hand around her neck, the other behind her. She heard a click, and suddenly her head was free. She stared down. Her stomach was bare. Her eyes crept down to her waistline, where her skin abruptly became a sickening yellow. Her legs were gone, instead, a large mass took their place. The yellow mass held large black dots across it. Eight spindling legs stretched out with three joints each. At the second joint the leg shifted to a jet black. She screamed.
"Silence, girl" The doctor commanded.
She did not quiet. She flailed her many legs and ripped at her own waist, trying to break free. The doctor stumbled backward. She tore off the restraint at her neck. The doctor began to scramble through his desk. The girl shoved a hand into her waist, amazed at her own strength. Hot blood trickled onto her new arachnid bottom. She pushed hard, a ripping pain seared through her. She screamed louder. The doctor retrieved a needle and thrust it into a nearby bottle.
"I SAID SILENCE!" He cried back.
She grabbed the back of his neck with her bloodied hand. She slammed him into the cement wall. The sound of snapping bones rang out.
"Why" She grunted, holding her other hand against her fresh wound.
"You already had the magic" He began, trying to pull his head free from the cement. "You could summon spiders. This was just an experi-"
The girl pushed him harder. Another cracking sound, she dropped the limp body. She stared back down at herself. A disgusting body covered in blood. The crimson was starting to dry across the bright yellow legs. Her heart sank when she looked down at the man. *Did I mean to?*, she asked herself. It felt like a weight on a hook, dragging her stomach into the floor. She clenched her fists and felt hot tears stream down her face. She leaned on to the wall and sobbed. Her legs seemed to adjust by themselves, almost on instinct. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away as she sank to the floor, more blood smearing across the cement into a floor drain at the center of the room. A light flashed into the room as the one metal door swung open. A boy stepped through, a rifle in his hands prodding the room. He glanced down and yelled out. The girl could hear footsteps down the hall. An older man, a greying beard framing his face, stepped through holding a pistol. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. He turned away for a moment to look at the boy, who in turn was unable to take his eyes off the girl attached to such a horrific abomination. Both seemed too shaken to act. Finally, the boy walked over, gun still firmly in hand. He grabbed the light blue coat hanging off the doctor's corpse and handed it to the girl. She pulled it around her torso and looked down at her wound. The boy almost jumped back.
"Dad" He said "We need to take her to the medicine men"
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
"Hang on, so there's some fixed amount of power and it's divided equally among all humans?"
"Yep."
"And you, a strange alien creature, have culled the human population in order to increase the power granted to any one individual?"
"Exactly. Do you want to try out your new powers?"
"I've a few questions first actually -- as a more advanced intelligence you're certainly aware of evolution, of the fact that all life forms here on earth share a common ancestor, of the fact that distinct species arise by a process of natural selection, where only those which adapt best to their environment survive?"
"Go on..."
"And you're telling me that the human species possess some special access to magical powers, with the magnitude of each individual's access _depending explicitly on the number of other alive humans_?
"Yeah. Is there a problem?"
"You bet there's a problem. What we call human life is unavoidably arbitrary. If we draw up the family tree showing the ancestry of all humans, at some point we make it back to some gross slime that definitely isn't human, and so at some point between today and whenever the slime was around we need to choose some generation and say 'Ok, after this we're human'. Maybe before we were neanderthal, or what have you, but neanderthal is just a label we made up too, every species is. You're telling me that whether or not an organism is labeled human actually has (1) some effect on the organism, and, worse, (2) some effect on every other organism we call human. But as I've argued, these labels are completely arbitrary."
"You know you can fly now? Don't you want to try that out?"
"We even have a maximally human organism, against which all other organisms are compared to test their human-ness? It's Carl Linnaeus -- in honour of all the work he did on species [we locked his skeleton up somewhere](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Type_(biology)#Lectotype) and granted him the title of Ur-human. Which means that everyone alive today is slightly less human than some family of Swedish nerds in the 1700s. And if we'd happened to have chosen someone else, we'd have a different ordering of humanity in terms of human-ness."
"You can teleport! You could go somewhere else, somewhere far far away, _right now_. Wouldn't that be fun?"
"Worse, we haven't stopped evolving. At some point in the future we'll be so far from Carl Linnaeus that we'll need a new label to describe us. Do those powers disappear then? Once we arbitrarily decide to call ourselves something else? Seems hard to believe really."
"Oh My God do you know this is why no one has bothered to contact you people all this time? I'm leaving. Do us all a favour and don't go developing any sort of space exploration program. If I see a human come anywhere near our star system I will see to their Zapping myself."
"How will you decide whether the organism is human or not?"
[See also](http://slatestarcodex.com/2014/11/21/the-categories-were-made-for-man-not-man-for-the-categories/)
|
The problem with humans is their curiosity. Even after a new species from the stars reigns hell upon every continent, impaling billions on the ends of their spears, curiosity still prevails. When enough people finally lay dead in the streets the survivors came to a realization. Every time someone died it allowed a little more magic to flow through the human race's veins. Bringing us back to the plight and pillar of humanity, curiosity. Or more specifically the curiosity of one Oleg Bishopi, Ph.D. and the charming young girl just waking up among the piles of medical equipment and samples strewn across his basement.
"Wonderful" The Doctor cheered through a thick accent, "We can begin"
"Mmmph" responded the girl through tightly wrapped bandages. Her eyes were wide with fear, something restraining her neck forcing her gaze to the ceiling. She tried to move her legs and felt something entirely new. She attempted to kick her leg and instead felt four legs react. Each one longer than they should be. She tried the other to the same response, only on the other side.
"Your name is Platythomisus Sapien and I am your father" The Doctor stated.
The girl looked at him for a moment, searching for some piece of information to cling onto. An immediate feeling in her chest told her opposite. A moment in time flashed through her mind, cheap birthday streamers clinging to the walls, a handmade lopsided cake, and her father. A tall man in a light green button down, his brown hand on her shoulder with a smile behind his thick mustache. She opened her eyes again, the man in front of her was not her father. His skin was akin to snow, and he had the figure of a beer bottle. He wore a light blue coat that reached his ankles with an apron over top, slick with blood. Thick rubber gloves clung to his hand.
"You'll notice the improvements" He smiled, gesturing towards her lower half.
She jerked against the instrument around her neck. The doctor made a small noise as if just remembering her restraints. He paced over to her and placed a gloved hand around her neck, the other behind her. She heard a click, and suddenly her head was free. She stared down. Her stomach was bare. Her eyes crept down to her waistline, where her skin abruptly became a sickening yellow. Her legs were gone, instead, a large mass took their place. The yellow mass held large black dots across it. Eight spindling legs stretched out with three joints each. At the second joint the leg shifted to a jet black. She screamed.
"Silence, girl" The doctor commanded.
She did not quiet. She flailed her many legs and ripped at her own waist, trying to break free. The doctor stumbled backward. She tore off the restraint at her neck. The doctor began to scramble through his desk. The girl shoved a hand into her waist, amazed at her own strength. Hot blood trickled onto her new arachnid bottom. She pushed hard, a ripping pain seared through her. She screamed louder. The doctor retrieved a needle and thrust it into a nearby bottle.
"I SAID SILENCE!" He cried back.
She grabbed the back of his neck with her bloodied hand. She slammed him into the cement wall. The sound of snapping bones rang out.
"Why" She grunted, holding her other hand against her fresh wound.
"You already had the magic" He began, trying to pull his head free from the cement. "You could summon spiders. This was just an experi-"
The girl pushed him harder. Another cracking sound, she dropped the limp body. She stared back down at herself. A disgusting body covered in blood. The crimson was starting to dry across the bright yellow legs. Her heart sank when she looked down at the man. *Did I mean to?*, she asked herself. It felt like a weight on a hook, dragging her stomach into the floor. She clenched her fists and felt hot tears stream down her face. She leaned on to the wall and sobbed. Her legs seemed to adjust by themselves, almost on instinct. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away as she sank to the floor, more blood smearing across the cement into a floor drain at the center of the room. A light flashed into the room as the one metal door swung open. A boy stepped through, a rifle in his hands prodding the room. He glanced down and yelled out. The girl could hear footsteps down the hall. An older man, a greying beard framing his face, stepped through holding a pistol. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. He turned away for a moment to look at the boy, who in turn was unable to take his eyes off the girl attached to such a horrific abomination. Both seemed too shaken to act. Finally, the boy walked over, gun still firmly in hand. He grabbed the light blue coat hanging off the doctor's corpse and handed it to the girl. She pulled it around her torso and looked down at her wound. The boy almost jumped back.
"Dad" He said "We need to take her to the medicine men"
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
First contact was made almost ten years ago. They seemed well versed in warfare, in less than a day there wasn't a satellite left in the sky or a cable under the sea. Communication between nations fell to old ground bounce long range radios pulled out of mothballs. Conventional weapons proved to be ineffective and the nuclear option didn't fare much better. Eventually even the old analog radios where jammed. Steadily they started to wipe us out. Great mechanized beasts roamed the land, directed energy weapons reduced any caught in there sight to ash.
Slowly word began to spread of old legends come to light. Wizards, witches even warlocks making pacts with demons to gain power. Men and women alike where seen calling fourth searing bolts of lighting from the sky. Ripping the ground open to devour and crush any of the aliens creations that wandered to close to the last bastions of humanity. Liquefying the great metal monsters with conjured fire. Even death was no relief to our fallen comrades as the necromancers raised forth gargantuan armies of the dead. Crushing the invaders with the sheer mass of rotting meat and gleaming bone. As our species continued to fight for our existence more of the things that go bump in the night started coming to light.
At first they appeared to be fellow humans but it soon became clear that was not the case. The first were the Werewolves, nigh unkillable but by blessed silver. Transforming into great beasts they used claws and teeth to rend through armor only magic could penetrate. These furry juggernauts relied on humans not for food as in the old tales but as breeding stock. As we continued to dwindle in number they could no longer stalk the shadows. Though small in numbers they made up for it in shear brutality. Soon all of the others concealed in the shadows made themselves known. The vampires where less well received than the wolves but in the end they needed us. Becoming a donor for one elevated ones physically abilities for a time. Though to somes disappointment, crosses, sunlight and garlic did not faze them.
The Fae became another ally though much less trustful, one had to be cautious when speaking with them. Never make an open ended bargain with one, it never ends in your favor. Whatever the invaders mechanized army consisted of it was not iron and they seemed to take much glee in the wanton destruction they could wield. Many hopped the elves and dwarves of some fairy tales would come to be but to this day none have materialized. Though the dragons made there presence known they more are focused on what little territory they still held and if you happen to occupy it you have one hell of a home security system. Rumblings of the old gods walking among man once more have been heard but not verified.
As of now hope has yet to completely die for humanity and its newly rediscovered allies. While the dragons and invaders still rule the skies we have done much to retake the land. The current status of humanity as a whole is still not truly known, while magic is useful as a weapons it does not give it self over willingly to be used to pass missives. Communication over the oceans and across continents is still a slow process and we are just starting to retake the seas.
-Field Commander, 3rd Magus Division, Capt Jasper D. Wulf
|
The problem with humans is their curiosity. Even after a new species from the stars reigns hell upon every continent, impaling billions on the ends of their spears, curiosity still prevails. When enough people finally lay dead in the streets the survivors came to a realization. Every time someone died it allowed a little more magic to flow through the human race's veins. Bringing us back to the plight and pillar of humanity, curiosity. Or more specifically the curiosity of one Oleg Bishopi, Ph.D. and the charming young girl just waking up among the piles of medical equipment and samples strewn across his basement.
"Wonderful" The Doctor cheered through a thick accent, "We can begin"
"Mmmph" responded the girl through tightly wrapped bandages. Her eyes were wide with fear, something restraining her neck forcing her gaze to the ceiling. She tried to move her legs and felt something entirely new. She attempted to kick her leg and instead felt four legs react. Each one longer than they should be. She tried the other to the same response, only on the other side.
"Your name is Platythomisus Sapien and I am your father" The Doctor stated.
The girl looked at him for a moment, searching for some piece of information to cling onto. An immediate feeling in her chest told her opposite. A moment in time flashed through her mind, cheap birthday streamers clinging to the walls, a handmade lopsided cake, and her father. A tall man in a light green button down, his brown hand on her shoulder with a smile behind his thick mustache. She opened her eyes again, the man in front of her was not her father. His skin was akin to snow, and he had the figure of a beer bottle. He wore a light blue coat that reached his ankles with an apron over top, slick with blood. Thick rubber gloves clung to his hand.
"You'll notice the improvements" He smiled, gesturing towards her lower half.
She jerked against the instrument around her neck. The doctor made a small noise as if just remembering her restraints. He paced over to her and placed a gloved hand around her neck, the other behind her. She heard a click, and suddenly her head was free. She stared down. Her stomach was bare. Her eyes crept down to her waistline, where her skin abruptly became a sickening yellow. Her legs were gone, instead, a large mass took their place. The yellow mass held large black dots across it. Eight spindling legs stretched out with three joints each. At the second joint the leg shifted to a jet black. She screamed.
"Silence, girl" The doctor commanded.
She did not quiet. She flailed her many legs and ripped at her own waist, trying to break free. The doctor stumbled backward. She tore off the restraint at her neck. The doctor began to scramble through his desk. The girl shoved a hand into her waist, amazed at her own strength. Hot blood trickled onto her new arachnid bottom. She pushed hard, a ripping pain seared through her. She screamed louder. The doctor retrieved a needle and thrust it into a nearby bottle.
"I SAID SILENCE!" He cried back.
She grabbed the back of his neck with her bloodied hand. She slammed him into the cement wall. The sound of snapping bones rang out.
"Why" She grunted, holding her other hand against her fresh wound.
"You already had the magic" He began, trying to pull his head free from the cement. "You could summon spiders. This was just an experi-"
The girl pushed him harder. Another cracking sound, she dropped the limp body. She stared back down at herself. A disgusting body covered in blood. The crimson was starting to dry across the bright yellow legs. Her heart sank when she looked down at the man. *Did I mean to?*, she asked herself. It felt like a weight on a hook, dragging her stomach into the floor. She clenched her fists and felt hot tears stream down her face. She leaned on to the wall and sobbed. Her legs seemed to adjust by themselves, almost on instinct. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away as she sank to the floor, more blood smearing across the cement into a floor drain at the center of the room. A light flashed into the room as the one metal door swung open. A boy stepped through, a rifle in his hands prodding the room. He glanced down and yelled out. The girl could hear footsteps down the hall. An older man, a greying beard framing his face, stepped through holding a pistol. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. He turned away for a moment to look at the boy, who in turn was unable to take his eyes off the girl attached to such a horrific abomination. Both seemed too shaken to act. Finally, the boy walked over, gun still firmly in hand. He grabbed the light blue coat hanging off the doctor's corpse and handed it to the girl. She pulled it around her torso and looked down at her wound. The boy almost jumped back.
"Dad" He said "We need to take her to the medicine men"
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
I awoke in the night, the distant sounds of screams altogether too familiar. It didn't sound isolated - they must have found a safe-haven. Hundreds would be massacred. It was just like I said; don't bunch together. Don't rely on each other for support. Survival is all about laying low, keeping quiet and hoping that luck was on your side.
I'd been having a strange dream. It wasn't a nightmare, which was rare already; it was more of a premonition. I'd felt a burning sensation in my hand, as if there were energy coursing through it. The feeling still stuck with me, and I focused on it to try drown out the screams.
********
There were more of them now; towering beasts, eldritch monstrosities. We'd imagined aliens as these advanced beings, visiting us with technology that we could not even comprehend, bestowing knowledge and gifts. But no.
They were unimaginable nightmares, drifting in through space, landing on our forsaken planet and hunting us mercilessly. Our combined efforts only took down a few, and the ensuing nuclear winter only made things worse. And now they hunt us down without rest. It doesn't seem to be for sustenance - they ignore other animals, though they will harm them if it is in their way. No; it feels like eradication. And more come every day.
But the the dreams won't go away. What little sleep I have is filled with feelings of flame and fury; of ominous premonition, of terrifying power. I feel that energy more and more. I suspect that I am going mad, but I'd rather be mad than dead. And judging by my travels, it seems that I am one of the few left with the privilege of choice.
Sleep comes to me eventually, the incessant chittering of the aliens filtering through my dreams of intrigue, of primal power.
*****
I awoke to a sound of crashing, of beastly lumbering.
*I've been found.*
I sprinted from my lair, a crumbling ruin, just as a jagged tentacle pierced through the foundations. Rubble collapsed around me as I leapt through a window, landing on the floor below in a clumsy roll. There was no time to think about the pain - only escape.
I ran as fast as I could, praying that it was only one, praying that it could not keep up. There were many different forms of alien, and most of the massive ones were slow in the city. They could run at least as fast as a man, but the buildings and ruins proved ample obstacles. With a bit of luck, I could survive this. I had done so before.
A sudden crash to my right sent glass flying just ahead of me. An arthropod the size of a large dog landed in front of me, its razor-sharp legs digging into the floor. There was no chance of running from it. But if I climbed the building to avoid it, my pursuer would destroy it as if it was a cardboard box. I had two choices, but either led to death.
My right hand burned, a sharp red glow emitting from my palm. It felt like trapped electricity. Like every bit of primal power focused into a single thought.
A choice:
Shall I **fight**, or **flee**?
****
[Part II](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7i4fn8/wp_resurge_ii/) | [Part III](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7i4p1p/wp_resurgence_iii/) | [Part IV (new)](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7i65tc/wp_resurgence_iv/)
It's a 'Choose Your Own Adventure' story! Vote on whichever choice you like best, and I hope I won't disappoint :)
/r/CroatianSpy
|
The problem with humans is their curiosity. Even after a new species from the stars reigns hell upon every continent, impaling billions on the ends of their spears, curiosity still prevails. When enough people finally lay dead in the streets the survivors came to a realization. Every time someone died it allowed a little more magic to flow through the human race's veins. Bringing us back to the plight and pillar of humanity, curiosity. Or more specifically the curiosity of one Oleg Bishopi, Ph.D. and the charming young girl just waking up among the piles of medical equipment and samples strewn across his basement.
"Wonderful" The Doctor cheered through a thick accent, "We can begin"
"Mmmph" responded the girl through tightly wrapped bandages. Her eyes were wide with fear, something restraining her neck forcing her gaze to the ceiling. She tried to move her legs and felt something entirely new. She attempted to kick her leg and instead felt four legs react. Each one longer than they should be. She tried the other to the same response, only on the other side.
"Your name is Platythomisus Sapien and I am your father" The Doctor stated.
The girl looked at him for a moment, searching for some piece of information to cling onto. An immediate feeling in her chest told her opposite. A moment in time flashed through her mind, cheap birthday streamers clinging to the walls, a handmade lopsided cake, and her father. A tall man in a light green button down, his brown hand on her shoulder with a smile behind his thick mustache. She opened her eyes again, the man in front of her was not her father. His skin was akin to snow, and he had the figure of a beer bottle. He wore a light blue coat that reached his ankles with an apron over top, slick with blood. Thick rubber gloves clung to his hand.
"You'll notice the improvements" He smiled, gesturing towards her lower half.
She jerked against the instrument around her neck. The doctor made a small noise as if just remembering her restraints. He paced over to her and placed a gloved hand around her neck, the other behind her. She heard a click, and suddenly her head was free. She stared down. Her stomach was bare. Her eyes crept down to her waistline, where her skin abruptly became a sickening yellow. Her legs were gone, instead, a large mass took their place. The yellow mass held large black dots across it. Eight spindling legs stretched out with three joints each. At the second joint the leg shifted to a jet black. She screamed.
"Silence, girl" The doctor commanded.
She did not quiet. She flailed her many legs and ripped at her own waist, trying to break free. The doctor stumbled backward. She tore off the restraint at her neck. The doctor began to scramble through his desk. The girl shoved a hand into her waist, amazed at her own strength. Hot blood trickled onto her new arachnid bottom. She pushed hard, a ripping pain seared through her. She screamed louder. The doctor retrieved a needle and thrust it into a nearby bottle.
"I SAID SILENCE!" He cried back.
She grabbed the back of his neck with her bloodied hand. She slammed him into the cement wall. The sound of snapping bones rang out.
"Why" She grunted, holding her other hand against her fresh wound.
"You already had the magic" He began, trying to pull his head free from the cement. "You could summon spiders. This was just an experi-"
The girl pushed him harder. Another cracking sound, she dropped the limp body. She stared back down at herself. A disgusting body covered in blood. The crimson was starting to dry across the bright yellow legs. Her heart sank when she looked down at the man. *Did I mean to?*, she asked herself. It felt like a weight on a hook, dragging her stomach into the floor. She clenched her fists and felt hot tears stream down her face. She leaned on to the wall and sobbed. Her legs seemed to adjust by themselves, almost on instinct. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away as she sank to the floor, more blood smearing across the cement into a floor drain at the center of the room. A light flashed into the room as the one metal door swung open. A boy stepped through, a rifle in his hands prodding the room. He glanced down and yelled out. The girl could hear footsteps down the hall. An older man, a greying beard framing his face, stepped through holding a pistol. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. He turned away for a moment to look at the boy, who in turn was unable to take his eyes off the girl attached to such a horrific abomination. Both seemed too shaken to act. Finally, the boy walked over, gun still firmly in hand. He grabbed the light blue coat hanging off the doctor's corpse and handed it to the girl. She pulled it around her torso and looked down at her wound. The boy almost jumped back.
"Dad" He said "We need to take her to the medicine men"
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
All us helpless billions watch on our little glowing rectangles as our fellow humans die in droves. They fall screaming, choking, burning. The internet’s bad in the house, so we hunker on the steps of the chicken coop to see it.
Together we watch the end of the world. Our breath clouds and storms around us. But we do not notice the cold. Our hearts and bones are lead.
My siblings don’t make a sound. I look between the three of them and the black, faultless sky. I wonder if the afterlife looks like night, or if just looks like nothing. I wonder if I’ll find out soon.
Somewhere far away, death shrieks scarlet overhead. Ships with roving eyes swarm the sky like an army of locusts. Bodies, whole and unwhole, strewn out one atop the other, left where they fell. Entire skyscrapers collapse like dominoes. News anchors weep, openly, if they’re on the air at all. My sister flicks restlessly through live streams, unable to pick which tragedy to behold.
We crowd my oldest sister’s phone, barely able to watch yet unable to look away.
She stops at the live press conference from the president. His voice is grave and hollow; he speaks to us from a dark room in some bunker somewhere. He says, “—at this point we have little hope. We will defend ourselves to the end, but tonight, please, stay inside, stay with your loved ones—”
My brother Aaron has his head between his knees. When we were kids he ran screaming after the cougar that took his puppy. (Aaron didn't catch it.) I never believed fear was an emotion he had. “Turn that shit off,” he gasps.
“Ignoring the aliens invading our fucking planet won’t make them go away,” Maya snaps but she switches to Facebook. Not that any of her friends would have time to post *oh shit I’m dying*, anyway.
Out here, under the unblinking stars, surrounded by a chorus of crickets and coyote, I can’t fathom what waits out there.
“Someone has to tell Papa,” Jackie murmurs. She is my twin, but you can’t tell. People always seem disappointed that there’s such a thing as non-identical twin sisters.
“You’ll just scare him.” Maya, the oldest, has always been the unofficial boss of all of us. She made it official when Dad started mistaking her for our mother and trying to scramble uncracked eggs.
“He deserves to know,” she insists.
“If they come here,” Maya says through her teeth, “we’re not getting a panicked old man into the truck without hurting someone, alright?” Her words hang frozen for a moment.
“Do you think they’ll come out here?” I whisper. I am the youngest by eight minutes, and I am good at the part.
“No,” says Jackie, quickly. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
Aaron pulls his beanie over his eyes. “I wouldn’t rule it out, Jack.”
Maya gasps into her fingers. “Oh, god, they’re in Spokane.”
Bile shoots up my throat. That’s barely a hundred miles from here. Not even a particularly large city. I wonder if they’re hunting us one by one. Like rabbits.
“Shit, is that Maddie’s—?” Aaron snatches the phone from her hands.
I lean over his shoulder to see.
My sister’s friend has pressed her phone lens to the window of her dorm room. In the background, she speaks in rapid, panicked whispers with her roommate.
Outside her window mortars plummet in blue and yellow streaks, big as bowling balls. I hear her cry, “Are they bombing us?” as the first one connects. It blooms soundlessly, a pale yellow locus, and then the power of it explodes outward.
It takes Maddie maybe six seconds to die. She has enough time to say, “I need to call my mom,” as the wall of smoke and debris rushes toward her like a sulfurous tsunami. The window shatters. The video goes black.
I don’t even realize what I’ve seen until Maya starts bawling into her hands.
A strange fire tingles in my palms, my belly. I feel the urge to move. To rise and fight.
“We have to do *something*,” I say.
Aaron looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Like what?”
My fingers dance against the leg of my jeans. I know I should be scared as hell, but something in me is restless. Hungry for something very old, and long-forgotten.
I stand up and face my siblings. I look them over carefully, in case this is the last time I see them. “We will not just watch.” I point at the house. “We won’t just let them kill everything and everyone and just stand here and *watch*.”
Just south of us, down beyond the hide of the mountain, the sky turns red with fire.
Tears stream down my brother’s cheek. “I can’t believe this is fucking it.”
I shake my head, insistently. Insanely. I don’t know why, but I can’t accept that this *is* it. That this is truly how we fall.
I ball my fists up at my sides. A furious heat snaps at the bars of my ribs, yearning to set on those who dared attack our home, of all places. Our dad, of all people.
I let the hate and heat fill me.
Flame chases down my forearm, over my knuckles. The white hot of anger. My fist is a coal and my flesh is carved from the mountain, and I will destroy anything that threatens the ones I love.
“Elektra,” my brother says, oddly calm, "why is your hand glowing?"
I look at my palm and grin. The fire finds my belly now. The chaos delights some new-awoken part of me that I had never known I possessed. It is like catching my reflection in an angle I have never seen before. I am myself, but different.
“I think...” I laugh, despite the clouds of smoke rising from town. It rises out of me like a bird. I have never felt smaller or stronger. “I think I did it on purpose.”
***
/r/shoringupfragments
~~Doing part 2 right now~~
update: I accidentally deleted what I was working on. I'm going to go angrily eat cupcakes and try again.
ETA: I fell asleep :( I will post part two in a couple of hours when I'm on my break. You can check here or my sub. Thank you so much for reading.
|
The problem with humans is their curiosity. Even after a new species from the stars reigns hell upon every continent, impaling billions on the ends of their spears, curiosity still prevails. When enough people finally lay dead in the streets the survivors came to a realization. Every time someone died it allowed a little more magic to flow through the human race's veins. Bringing us back to the plight and pillar of humanity, curiosity. Or more specifically the curiosity of one Oleg Bishopi, Ph.D. and the charming young girl just waking up among the piles of medical equipment and samples strewn across his basement.
"Wonderful" The Doctor cheered through a thick accent, "We can begin"
"Mmmph" responded the girl through tightly wrapped bandages. Her eyes were wide with fear, something restraining her neck forcing her gaze to the ceiling. She tried to move her legs and felt something entirely new. She attempted to kick her leg and instead felt four legs react. Each one longer than they should be. She tried the other to the same response, only on the other side.
"Your name is Platythomisus Sapien and I am your father" The Doctor stated.
The girl looked at him for a moment, searching for some piece of information to cling onto. An immediate feeling in her chest told her opposite. A moment in time flashed through her mind, cheap birthday streamers clinging to the walls, a handmade lopsided cake, and her father. A tall man in a light green button down, his brown hand on her shoulder with a smile behind his thick mustache. She opened her eyes again, the man in front of her was not her father. His skin was akin to snow, and he had the figure of a beer bottle. He wore a light blue coat that reached his ankles with an apron over top, slick with blood. Thick rubber gloves clung to his hand.
"You'll notice the improvements" He smiled, gesturing towards her lower half.
She jerked against the instrument around her neck. The doctor made a small noise as if just remembering her restraints. He paced over to her and placed a gloved hand around her neck, the other behind her. She heard a click, and suddenly her head was free. She stared down. Her stomach was bare. Her eyes crept down to her waistline, where her skin abruptly became a sickening yellow. Her legs were gone, instead, a large mass took their place. The yellow mass held large black dots across it. Eight spindling legs stretched out with three joints each. At the second joint the leg shifted to a jet black. She screamed.
"Silence, girl" The doctor commanded.
She did not quiet. She flailed her many legs and ripped at her own waist, trying to break free. The doctor stumbled backward. She tore off the restraint at her neck. The doctor began to scramble through his desk. The girl shoved a hand into her waist, amazed at her own strength. Hot blood trickled onto her new arachnid bottom. She pushed hard, a ripping pain seared through her. She screamed louder. The doctor retrieved a needle and thrust it into a nearby bottle.
"I SAID SILENCE!" He cried back.
She grabbed the back of his neck with her bloodied hand. She slammed him into the cement wall. The sound of snapping bones rang out.
"Why" She grunted, holding her other hand against her fresh wound.
"You already had the magic" He began, trying to pull his head free from the cement. "You could summon spiders. This was just an experi-"
The girl pushed him harder. Another cracking sound, she dropped the limp body. She stared back down at herself. A disgusting body covered in blood. The crimson was starting to dry across the bright yellow legs. Her heart sank when she looked down at the man. *Did I mean to?*, she asked herself. It felt like a weight on a hook, dragging her stomach into the floor. She clenched her fists and felt hot tears stream down her face. She leaned on to the wall and sobbed. Her legs seemed to adjust by themselves, almost on instinct. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away as she sank to the floor, more blood smearing across the cement into a floor drain at the center of the room. A light flashed into the room as the one metal door swung open. A boy stepped through, a rifle in his hands prodding the room. He glanced down and yelled out. The girl could hear footsteps down the hall. An older man, a greying beard framing his face, stepped through holding a pistol. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. He turned away for a moment to look at the boy, who in turn was unable to take his eyes off the girl attached to such a horrific abomination. Both seemed too shaken to act. Finally, the boy walked over, gun still firmly in hand. He grabbed the light blue coat hanging off the doctor's corpse and handed it to the girl. She pulled it around her torso and looked down at her wound. The boy almost jumped back.
"Dad" He said "We need to take her to the medicine men"
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
Part 1 | [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/jraywang/comments/7i53fr/reaper_part_2/) | [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/jraywang/comments/7iavci/reaper_part_3/) | [Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/jraywang/comments/7iokx3/reaper_part_4/)
---
I wouldn’t call it a war. Extermination maybe. Though I’d more aptly describe it as a harvest. By the time they reached our world and penetrated the stratosphere, people sought them out in droves to be harvested. Of course, they knew what that actually meant. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have been so eager.
Ten years before the *Angels* descended from the sky, they had already sent what some referred to as divine retribution: a virus. Though this virus in particular only targeted women. It spread faster than a wildfire and had a 100% mortality rate. Worse yet, it was completely undetectable. In our desperation, we became animals. We locked our wives, daughters, and mothers deep underground under the constant shine of UV radiation and still they got infected. Within five years, the last woman had died leaving the rest of humanity to slowly die with her.
By the time they arrived, we welcomed them with open arms into every one of our major cities. Most bowed their heads and practically begged to be killed. Some fought against them. These were the ones that still remembered the pain of watching their daughters, wives, and mothers die. They couldn’t hope to survive, but at least they could enact their own version of divine retribution.
Looking back at it now, I know that the *Angels* planned for them. They wanted us to retaliate. Otherwise, where would be the fun? Men charged at them by the millions. Some to die. Some to kill. To the *Angels*, it was all the same.
Until we killed the first one.
Back when I used to write, I always made sure to name my hero something memorable. If not a strange name, then certainly a strange title. Evan the Incorruptible. Matthew the Harbinger. But in real life, heroes rarely have titles, some don’t even have names. That was the case for humanity’s last hero because nobody knew who he was.
We had only stories. The stories ranged from fantastical to downright fiction, but they always ended the same. We had killed one. The *Angels* must’ve been as skeptical as we were because they refused to change their tactics. They kept all our major cities and welcomed anyone to try and take it back.
By the fifth dead *Angel*, they learned of their miscalculation. Soon, we learned of it as well. Human beings shared mana and with it, we could do wondrous or terrible things. Magic no longer belonged to the realm of fiction. The elements bent to our will. Lightning struck where we pointed, tornados formed where we stood, the ground swallowed up entire cities as we willed it.
Suddenly, men stopped volunteering to be harvested. With their newfound power, they decided to fight back, even if victory had already been stolen from us. They had turned us into animals and then backed us into a corner. Foolish.
And that was good enough for us. Looking back, I wonder if we were as foolish as the *Angels*. We, who were content with dying in our little blazes of glory, having accomplished nothing but thinning their ranks by just a bit. It was selfish, but what is there to expect from men who had nothing else to live for?
None of us had the vision you had. The vision you have.
---
---
Tyler put the pen down, staring at the word *you*. He wondered if his letter would ever find its way to this certain *you*. While humanity had become animals, one man had gone even further. He had been called a monster by both *Angel* and man. Nobody knew which side he fought for, only that he killed both indiscriminately.
If Tyler were to write his story, he wouldn’t know whether to make this man the villain or the hero. Oh how he wished he could’ve written this story, but the only way this story continued was if he died. Beside his letter and pen, sitting at the edge of his wooden table was a silver revolver. The single lightbulb above him glinted off its barrel.
A small grin spread across Tyler’s face. He grabbed the gun, its metal like ice, and pressed it to his temple. Enough humans had died where he could stop the bullet with only his thoughts. The bullet couldn’t even hurt him unless he wanted it to. But he did. For the sake of humanity, he needed the bullet to kill him.
With his free hand, he picked the pen back up.
---
---
As the last storyteller on Earth, I bestow you the title of Reaper. A monster. A villain. Our last hero.
Go forth, Reaper, my death as an offering. With my passing, there will be only four humans left. I have already contacted two of them and they will die with me. The last I’m sure you will easily find as your powers will have increased two-fold. By then, your mind will stretch the globe, perhaps even the stars. And when you become the last human alive, I cannot even fathom how powerful you will be.
Show our *Angels* how fragile they are in the face of a god.
---
---
Tyler pulled the trigger.
---
/r/jraywang
---
Part 1 | [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/jraywang/comments/7i53fr/reaper_part_2/) | [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/jraywang/comments/7iavci/reaper_part_3/) | [Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/jraywang/comments/7iokx3/reaper_part_4/)
|
The problem with humans is their curiosity. Even after a new species from the stars reigns hell upon every continent, impaling billions on the ends of their spears, curiosity still prevails. When enough people finally lay dead in the streets the survivors came to a realization. Every time someone died it allowed a little more magic to flow through the human race's veins. Bringing us back to the plight and pillar of humanity, curiosity. Or more specifically the curiosity of one Oleg Bishopi, Ph.D. and the charming young girl just waking up among the piles of medical equipment and samples strewn across his basement.
"Wonderful" The Doctor cheered through a thick accent, "We can begin"
"Mmmph" responded the girl through tightly wrapped bandages. Her eyes were wide with fear, something restraining her neck forcing her gaze to the ceiling. She tried to move her legs and felt something entirely new. She attempted to kick her leg and instead felt four legs react. Each one longer than they should be. She tried the other to the same response, only on the other side.
"Your name is Platythomisus Sapien and I am your father" The Doctor stated.
The girl looked at him for a moment, searching for some piece of information to cling onto. An immediate feeling in her chest told her opposite. A moment in time flashed through her mind, cheap birthday streamers clinging to the walls, a handmade lopsided cake, and her father. A tall man in a light green button down, his brown hand on her shoulder with a smile behind his thick mustache. She opened her eyes again, the man in front of her was not her father. His skin was akin to snow, and he had the figure of a beer bottle. He wore a light blue coat that reached his ankles with an apron over top, slick with blood. Thick rubber gloves clung to his hand.
"You'll notice the improvements" He smiled, gesturing towards her lower half.
She jerked against the instrument around her neck. The doctor made a small noise as if just remembering her restraints. He paced over to her and placed a gloved hand around her neck, the other behind her. She heard a click, and suddenly her head was free. She stared down. Her stomach was bare. Her eyes crept down to her waistline, where her skin abruptly became a sickening yellow. Her legs were gone, instead, a large mass took their place. The yellow mass held large black dots across it. Eight spindling legs stretched out with three joints each. At the second joint the leg shifted to a jet black. She screamed.
"Silence, girl" The doctor commanded.
She did not quiet. She flailed her many legs and ripped at her own waist, trying to break free. The doctor stumbled backward. She tore off the restraint at her neck. The doctor began to scramble through his desk. The girl shoved a hand into her waist, amazed at her own strength. Hot blood trickled onto her new arachnid bottom. She pushed hard, a ripping pain seared through her. She screamed louder. The doctor retrieved a needle and thrust it into a nearby bottle.
"I SAID SILENCE!" He cried back.
She grabbed the back of his neck with her bloodied hand. She slammed him into the cement wall. The sound of snapping bones rang out.
"Why" She grunted, holding her other hand against her fresh wound.
"You already had the magic" He began, trying to pull his head free from the cement. "You could summon spiders. This was just an experi-"
The girl pushed him harder. Another cracking sound, she dropped the limp body. She stared back down at herself. A disgusting body covered in blood. The crimson was starting to dry across the bright yellow legs. Her heart sank when she looked down at the man. *Did I mean to?*, she asked herself. It felt like a weight on a hook, dragging her stomach into the floor. She clenched her fists and felt hot tears stream down her face. She leaned on to the wall and sobbed. Her legs seemed to adjust by themselves, almost on instinct. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away as she sank to the floor, more blood smearing across the cement into a floor drain at the center of the room. A light flashed into the room as the one metal door swung open. A boy stepped through, a rifle in his hands prodding the room. He glanced down and yelled out. The girl could hear footsteps down the hall. An older man, a greying beard framing his face, stepped through holding a pistol. His eyes went wide at the sight before him. He turned away for a moment to look at the boy, who in turn was unable to take his eyes off the girl attached to such a horrific abomination. Both seemed too shaken to act. Finally, the boy walked over, gun still firmly in hand. He grabbed the light blue coat hanging off the doctor's corpse and handed it to the girl. She pulled it around her torso and looked down at her wound. The boy almost jumped back.
"Dad" He said "We need to take her to the medicine men"
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
When it first showed up to our sensors, everyone thought it was just an interested asteroid. Sure, it was oblong, and one of the first we'd ever observed, but it was hardly anything special. People speculated that it was an alien ship, but no one really believed it.
That is, until it spontaneously reversed it's trajectory. One day, it was headed out of the solar system faster than any man made craft. The next, it was hurtling towards Earth with unnatural precision.
The impact alone wiped out Canada and part of the USA. Debris clouded the atmosphere, and the world went dark. It was few month before it began to spread.
It wasn't just a space rock or a ship. It was *alive*. And it was hungry. It spread like rot, sucking the life out of everything it touched. Concrete disintegrated, steel corroded to dust, and flames did nothing. Wherever it went, it spewed noxious, toxic gas. Scientists recognized it as a terraforming device. We called it the Plague.
People died in their homes, refusing to leave. People stuck in the traffic of evacuation found themselves trapped in a ring of the creeping rot. It seemed to seek out life, so that it could trap it and kill it. High altitude flight was impossible due to debris, and low altitude was incredibly dangerous, because the gas that permeated the atmosphere above the Plague was impossible to filter.
The human population steadily shrank, until the only free continent left was Australia. There were less than 10,000 of us when it happened. People began exhibiting strange power. Some could read minds. Others could teleport. Still others controlled the elements. I had the ability to fly. One thing that everyone had in common, however, was to share their energy with each other, from any distance, to boost one another's power.
Eventually, one man was found with the power to destroy the Plague.
His power was unique. It looked like raw energy, and it erased any Plague it came in contact with. He fired it from his hands as beams and blasts of blue or yellow light. Humanity immediately knew what they had to do.
I was one of a team sent with him, comprised of myself, two other fliers, a wind mage to clear the air, a telepath to communicate remotely, and the man himself. Our mission was to fly to the source of the Plague to destroy it once and for all.
The flight was short. In less than a day, we reached the origin. It was the only feature in a smooth, shiny black wasteland. A pillar of darkness, like a monument to humanities destruction.
At his command, the telepath broadcast his speech to the rest of humanity. I was the one flying him, and I'll never forget his words.
As he raised his arms above his head, he bellowed at the top of his lungs.
"PEOPLE OF EARTH! *LEND ME YOUR ENERGY*!"
Fukin' weebs.
|
Our first official contact with them was the day they descended like wasps onto every major metropolitan area and began sucking motherfuckers right off the street. I'm talking people being vacuumed straight up outta their loafers. at first it was a funny sight, but then the drones came down and scoured the entire earth.
They processed all but the finest specimen. I was among them , thank Xenu. There were about 1 million of us, they quarantined us in Las Vegas, or what once was Las Vegas.
It wasn't long before people started noticing strange happenings. Some claimed to have bent a spoon with their mind, others could share thoughts silently. As the days went on peoples abilities became undeniable.
This caught our overseers' eyes. They immediately conducted tests and operations on us, often to fatal results. But as the specimens dwindled our powers grew. We took note of this, but did our best to keep it under wraps.
Our shrinking mob had no hope, no leader, no organization, not even a common language, but perhaps these powers were our secret ace in the hole. A power shared by all mankind might be enough to do away with these tentacled bastards.
I myself had been vivisected twice by this point, among countless other ordeals and probes. Needless to say I had had enough. I was also, by that time, able to lift a car with my mind. Ever so slightly, mind you, I would focus all of my will on raising a car on the street just a few millimeters of the ground. so as not to garner suspicion from the eyes in the sky.
We all could feel the surge of power when one of our own succumbed to the brutal treatments those monsters put them through. Everyone could feel the power within them, but now it seemed only I was willing and able to use them.
The fact that I killed them all so easily is a testament to that. None of them had the power to defend themselves, and had resigned themselves to whatever fate these hentai monster looking sons a bitches had in store for them.
But I couldn't let Humanity go down like that, without a fight. I knew if I had the entirety of this power I alone could take them out. I didn't want to kill my own, but its better that it was one of us than one of them that did it.
I plucked several of their ships from the sky and plunged them into into the ocean. It was an amazing sight. So satisfying. I almost came. But then he came down from upon high and explained the truth of it all to me
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
At first, the aliens came in hordes. Wiped out everyone and everything they sensed a heart beat in. I lost my whole family within days, my father was the first to go protecting my older brother, then my mum protecting both of us. My brother and I were on the run for months until we got sloppy, stayed in the same place too long and he died protecting me. Somehow started a fire and took out 6 of those bastard aliens at once, made me proud to be related to him. That was 2 years ago, I’ve been alone ever since.
.
The blood curdling screams of those found make it hard to sleep, the goosebumps that used to cover my skin everytime I heard that scream don’t appear anymore but the knowledge of what is happening to those screaming is a horror in its own. In an effort to drown out those screams I remind myself of the golden rule, move to a new spot every 3 days. When that doesn’t work I focus on my surroundings and close my eyes,I can almost see my surroundings identically in my head. I close my eyes and hope to get some rest for tonight, tomorrow is when I find a new spot.
.
I jolt upright, I swear I heard a noise. Everything in the room I slept in has moved around, somethings been here. I get up slowly, crouch low and move around the house. Searching each and every room, i feel different. As if I feel that the room is empty before turning into it. Through my travels I’ve bumped into other people, traded items, bought weapons and been given food. I’ve also heard stories of survivors manifesting powers, magic even. The ability to summon storms or move water, throw fire or read minds. After determining the house is safe I sit down and close my eyes. I picture the house in my mind and focus as hard as I can. A blueprint like imagine appears in my mind, turning and growing, a 3D image replica of the layout. I can see myself sitting next to the tv, my mind zooms into the room in in. This is some crazy shit, I wonder what else I can do. I picture the tv next to me exploding and I focus as hard as I can.
BOOM.
“Kid! Kid! Wake up!”
Struggling, I wake up but keep my eyes closed. Fuck that was dumb, blowing up the tv right next to myself yeah, nice one idiot.
“Oh thank god he’s awake, he blew up a tv next to himself” I can see the young girl sitting next to me, another man pacing in the corner of the room and another, older female sitting down in a chair. I try to open my eyes and the searing pain becomes obvious in my left eye.
“Glass cut your eye pretty deep, hit the cornea and maybe sliced some nerves. I was only a nursing student so I’m not too sure” the girl says apologetically, I look at her with my right eye and ask her how she knew I blew the tv up, her mother tells me her daughter was a mute her whole life but a couple of months ago she talked for the first time, but it wasn’t with her mouth. It was with her mind. She’s telepathic. They tell me they’ve heard of a colony of people that are gaining powers in the north and that they are heading there, I’m welcome to go with them....
Part 2 if anyone wants it available
|
Our first official contact with them was the day they descended like wasps onto every major metropolitan area and began sucking motherfuckers right off the street. I'm talking people being vacuumed straight up outta their loafers. at first it was a funny sight, but then the drones came down and scoured the entire earth.
They processed all but the finest specimen. I was among them , thank Xenu. There were about 1 million of us, they quarantined us in Las Vegas, or what once was Las Vegas.
It wasn't long before people started noticing strange happenings. Some claimed to have bent a spoon with their mind, others could share thoughts silently. As the days went on peoples abilities became undeniable.
This caught our overseers' eyes. They immediately conducted tests and operations on us, often to fatal results. But as the specimens dwindled our powers grew. We took note of this, but did our best to keep it under wraps.
Our shrinking mob had no hope, no leader, no organization, not even a common language, but perhaps these powers were our secret ace in the hole. A power shared by all mankind might be enough to do away with these tentacled bastards.
I myself had been vivisected twice by this point, among countless other ordeals and probes. Needless to say I had had enough. I was also, by that time, able to lift a car with my mind. Ever so slightly, mind you, I would focus all of my will on raising a car on the street just a few millimeters of the ground. so as not to garner suspicion from the eyes in the sky.
We all could feel the surge of power when one of our own succumbed to the brutal treatments those monsters put them through. Everyone could feel the power within them, but now it seemed only I was willing and able to use them.
The fact that I killed them all so easily is a testament to that. None of them had the power to defend themselves, and had resigned themselves to whatever fate these hentai monster looking sons a bitches had in store for them.
But I couldn't let Humanity go down like that, without a fight. I knew if I had the entirety of this power I alone could take them out. I didn't want to kill my own, but its better that it was one of us than one of them that did it.
I plucked several of their ships from the sky and plunged them into into the ocean. It was an amazing sight. So satisfying. I almost came. But then he came down from upon high and explained the truth of it all to me
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
"Nobody knows exactly how long they've been here. By the time they revealed themselves on that fateful day, it was too late. They had infiltrated every facet of our lives, from our neighbourhoods to our government.
Shapeshifters.
They had been our friends, our co-workers, our in-laws. A small colony had landed originally, but their numbers had increased exponentially. We were outnumbered. We were outfought. We were almost completely eradicated.
Until the awakening.
As children growing up in the Western world, we had heard stories of magic, of witches and wizards. Arthurian legends of Merlin. In the East, tales of Genii were abound. Dismissed as folklore for generations, we had assumed it was all fairy tales, a way for our ancestors to explain what they did not understand. How wrong we were.
There is speculation as to why magic has returned, but nobody really understands. One theory I hear the men discuss is that as the number of humans decreased, their power increased. I saw a film along that premise once. I wonder if I'll ever get to see another film, read another book. I wonder if I'll ever be able to relax again at all. Some think that magic returning is God's way of saving humanity. I'm not buying that. I can't believe in a higher power after what I've seen. Where was their fucking God when the aliens first landed? When their numbers grew? WHEN THEY BUTCHERED OUR FAMILIES IN OUR OWN HOMES?? Fuck God. We are the gods now.
Our resistance is small, but it is not the only one. We like it that way. No outsiders. We had been unable to fight them at first. Against their natural, bug-like form, our bullets are useless. In their human form they could be shot, but they acted just like us, *looked* just like us. You could never tell who was one of them, at least not until the power returned. It gave our eyes a reddish glow, marked us from them. Their alien eyes hadn't been able to pick up on it, and we had taken advantage. We butchered thousands of them before they realised we could tell them apart. It wasn't enough. It's never enough.
Some of us have learnt to harness our power, our magic. We can fight the bugs in their natural form, which is how they spend all of their time now. We can break through their carapaces. We can call in the elements at will, rain down fire and brimstone on them. WE CAN BURN THESE UGLY MOTHERFUCKERS FROM THE INSIDE USING ONLY THE POWER OF THOUGHT!
But they are many, and we are few. And so the battle rages on. I am sending this message out, in the hope that anyone is still listening. In the hope that anyone is still out there at all.
Let us not go down without a fight. They may have us on the back foot for now, but the human race is stronger than you or I ever thought possible! Harness your power! TAKE AS MANY OF THESE ALIEN SONS OF BITCHES DOWN WITH YOU AS YOU CAN!"
*End Transmission*
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Our first official contact with them was the day they descended like wasps onto every major metropolitan area and began sucking motherfuckers right off the street. I'm talking people being vacuumed straight up outta their loafers. at first it was a funny sight, but then the drones came down and scoured the entire earth.
They processed all but the finest specimen. I was among them , thank Xenu. There were about 1 million of us, they quarantined us in Las Vegas, or what once was Las Vegas.
It wasn't long before people started noticing strange happenings. Some claimed to have bent a spoon with their mind, others could share thoughts silently. As the days went on peoples abilities became undeniable.
This caught our overseers' eyes. They immediately conducted tests and operations on us, often to fatal results. But as the specimens dwindled our powers grew. We took note of this, but did our best to keep it under wraps.
Our shrinking mob had no hope, no leader, no organization, not even a common language, but perhaps these powers were our secret ace in the hole. A power shared by all mankind might be enough to do away with these tentacled bastards.
I myself had been vivisected twice by this point, among countless other ordeals and probes. Needless to say I had had enough. I was also, by that time, able to lift a car with my mind. Ever so slightly, mind you, I would focus all of my will on raising a car on the street just a few millimeters of the ground. so as not to garner suspicion from the eyes in the sky.
We all could feel the surge of power when one of our own succumbed to the brutal treatments those monsters put them through. Everyone could feel the power within them, but now it seemed only I was willing and able to use them.
The fact that I killed them all so easily is a testament to that. None of them had the power to defend themselves, and had resigned themselves to whatever fate these hentai monster looking sons a bitches had in store for them.
But I couldn't let Humanity go down like that, without a fight. I knew if I had the entirety of this power I alone could take them out. I didn't want to kill my own, but its better that it was one of us than one of them that did it.
I plucked several of their ships from the sky and plunged them into into the ocean. It was an amazing sight. So satisfying. I almost came. But then he came down from upon high and explained the truth of it all to me
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[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
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[Part 1]
When they came, it was not nearly as one would expect; at least not what the average Joe, Jane, Tom, Dick, or Harry would have expected. Aliens meant fantastically futuristic, didn’t it? They were supposed to have arrived in spaceships descending from orbit and raining death upon us with technological supremacy. They might have landed their ships and been humanoids upon emerging from their crafts, wielding laser guns, or something similar, and decimating us with that technology. Perhaps they would have been more beast like, like something from a Geiger painting…right; charging forth in a beast-like frenzy?
For all the world, back in early 2015—still very much a technological age for well over 90 percent of the Earth’s inhabitants—they had come sailing through the skies in what looked like ancient clippers, schooners, and similarly designed ships of wood. Fantastic all right; as in what had resembled the dark peoples that might have made up Sauron’s army from The Lord of The Rings trilogy. There were Orc-like creatures, and those with pointy ears and grey skin like evil Elves, and beserker men and women had come off those ships, washing forth upon our continents with sabres, swords, and bows, slaughtering those who’d gotten in the way. Far worse were the Warlocks; men and women in flowing robes of varying black or red hues, depending on their bent for different schools of magic.
Even with the common soldiers, their armors—we’d come to understand later—had been gifted with runic magic, protecting them as they butchered any careless enough to not run away, who thought glocks and shotguns would save them. Of course, governments around the world ordered jets and attack helicopters on those ships, though their machine guns and missiles exploded harmlessly against lavender colored energy shields. When that didn’t work, larger missile strikes from military bases were tried—again, having no effect on the spelled-ships. It did take well over two years, but the Earth’s population had shrunk drastically with each passing month. Of course, something strange had been realized by the dwindling population. Magic of our own was still there, and much more present as 7 billion became 5 within the first year, and to what must be perhaps less than 1 billion now, though technology had all but ceased to function with destroyed satellites, power plants vaporized, and manufacturing plants amongst the first targets of the invaders. We’re fighting back though, with our own magic, as best we can. Our magic manifests differently though, from person to person. While runes are woven with intricate hand gestures, and spells of power are worked when invoking the right words from our enemy, ours manifests quite differently.
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[Part 2 coming right up, after THESE messages...]
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Our first official contact with them was the day they descended like wasps onto every major metropolitan area and began sucking motherfuckers right off the street. I'm talking people being vacuumed straight up outta their loafers. at first it was a funny sight, but then the drones came down and scoured the entire earth.
They processed all but the finest specimen. I was among them , thank Xenu. There were about 1 million of us, they quarantined us in Las Vegas, or what once was Las Vegas.
It wasn't long before people started noticing strange happenings. Some claimed to have bent a spoon with their mind, others could share thoughts silently. As the days went on peoples abilities became undeniable.
This caught our overseers' eyes. They immediately conducted tests and operations on us, often to fatal results. But as the specimens dwindled our powers grew. We took note of this, but did our best to keep it under wraps.
Our shrinking mob had no hope, no leader, no organization, not even a common language, but perhaps these powers were our secret ace in the hole. A power shared by all mankind might be enough to do away with these tentacled bastards.
I myself had been vivisected twice by this point, among countless other ordeals and probes. Needless to say I had had enough. I was also, by that time, able to lift a car with my mind. Ever so slightly, mind you, I would focus all of my will on raising a car on the street just a few millimeters of the ground. so as not to garner suspicion from the eyes in the sky.
We all could feel the surge of power when one of our own succumbed to the brutal treatments those monsters put them through. Everyone could feel the power within them, but now it seemed only I was willing and able to use them.
The fact that I killed them all so easily is a testament to that. None of them had the power to defend themselves, and had resigned themselves to whatever fate these hentai monster looking sons a bitches had in store for them.
But I couldn't let Humanity go down like that, without a fight. I knew if I had the entirety of this power I alone could take them out. I didn't want to kill my own, but its better that it was one of us than one of them that did it.
I plucked several of their ships from the sky and plunged them into into the ocean. It was an amazing sight. So satisfying. I almost came. But then he came down from upon high and explained the truth of it all to me
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[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
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[Part 2]
Joe Takada hadn’t been much of a man, not really; he’d been a 120 pounds soaking wet, had glasses, and his brain was the only muscle he’d really developed over his 19 years of life. He liked more intellectual pursuits, and that was all that had mattered to him, before the invaders had come. One his favorite passions had been anime; he almost could not have gotten enough of it. With few friends, and little to no love life to speak of, the intricate stories and fluidity of those anime stories had been more of a friend than most people had been. Dragonball Z, Bleach, Naruto; he would much more like to befriend Goku or Ichigo rather than the real people around him. That’d been in 2015, of course. He would have guessed it was close to the end of 2017 now, and his life was much different. Actually, in a way, he’d like to think himself as something like Trunks though, harkening back to Dragonball Z. He wasn’t in the future, but the present was desolate now, with more buildings hulking piles of rubble than whole now—to Joe it seemed as a mirror to the future Trunks had come from. He’d even taken to wearing a sword on his back, and wearing a purple jacket, much like his favorite character from that anime. After all, he was very much like a character from the pages of Toriyama’s magna.
Joe was powerful now, though not of muscle really, though swordplay had been developing his upper body more than he might have thought. Lots of cardio too; you needed that, when marauding hordes of Orcs, Elves, and humans from another world were out to kill you and everyone else on this planet. There were fighters though, some were wielding magic much like their enemy, some had become something like super heroes, and had even taken to wearing costumes like the tales told through comic books that people had once read and watched in the movie theaters.
He’d almost drifted off to sleep, when the shifting of rubble from what must have been seventy or eighty feet down the hall had sent adrenaline surging through him, instantly rousing him into wakefulness and with a heightened sense of alertness. Uhl’Threka’s band had finally found him. I would have liked to meet them tomorrow morning, but it seems like they can’t wait for their death any longer.
Reaching down to the leylines of magic that had crisscrossed the Earth, Joe had drawn upon it until power surged through him. The only way he could think to describe it was a system more akin to the stories of Naruto. Chakra and chakra gates must have been a real thing, as the magic within him seemed to have manifested in this way. His legs and arms were stronger, and he’d been practicing martial arts, as best he could—he could throw punches and kicks far faster and more powerfully than should have been possible. It was a clumsy system, or style he supposed he should say, developed only through books pilfered from now defunct or destroyed libraries. Masking his power would have been useless, Uhl’Threka was one of the more powerful Warlocks in Oregon; he’d be able to detect the life force of one of the myriad number of rats scuttling through the building, so of course he’d be able to sense even a disguised power such as Joe might be able to make himself appear to be.
“You’ll come out now, Takada-san, so we can have a chat, yes?”
“Actually General Threka, I was going to ask you if you’d care to step outside?”
Joe didn’t let the Warlock make the mock choice though, as he flashed through a tear in the wall of his makeshift room of the week, and out into the night. Though he could see quite well in the dark, a few fires raged in buildings around him, casting a feint red and yellow glow, as well as a nearly full moon casting its own light. So there’d been plenty of illumination to see Uhl’Threka and his minions, as they came outside moments later. Two towering Kordens, the Orc-like creatures that were the true muscle of the invaders armies, stood near to eight feet tall, wicked curved swords in hand as something like smiles played about their brown, brutish faces resembling pigs more than men. Threka even had some magic underlings as well, as three Luden women trailed behind the Warlock, their thin hands already weaving runes about the lumbering beasts. Uhl’Threka himself was slight in stature, though the Warlocks’ magical might was the intimidating factor about the Luden man in a robe of dark scarlet. Even with runeic might playing about them, Joe was concerned little about the Kordens. A moment later, he let Uhl Threka know why.
Joe pushed himself nearly to the limits of his power, and performed flashing leaps, hopping on the chest of the first Korden in less than a blink of an eye, and slashing through its neck in another two or three milliseconds, the head falling to the ground in what seemed as such a slow speed as to be nearly perceived as not moving at all. Joe’s sword flashed again as he vaulted off the now dead Korden, and plunged his blade deep into the brain of the other, making a few dozen slices through it just to be sure. A bolt of purple energy almost touched Joe as he flashed back to almost exactly where he’d been standing before killing Threka’s bodyguards, but it wasn’t quick enough. What must have been a dozen more magic bolts might have killed Joe, if he’d been as weak as Uhl’Threka must have thought him to be. In a blur of motion, he deflected the magic away as if they were mosquitos of light that might have been trying to feast on his blood, deflected away and sent careening into the night.
“Listen Warlock, you know your lackeys can do nothing to me, and I see that your Korden are just about useless to you now, so let’s make this about you and me already.”
Uhl’Threka guffawed loudly at the thought, and Joe let the moment of imagined supremacy be the undoing of the Warlock’s flunkies. He brought a large amount of power into his hands, and threw out green energy beams at Threka’s female mages, felling them in quick, precise strikes. He’d thrown a few more out at Threka himself, in what Joe had hoped would be quick enough, though the Warlock seemed to become as a ghost for a moment, the beams passing harmlessly through him and into the night, destroying parts of a building behind the Luden man with loud crashes of energy meeting stone. The Warlock manifested himself a moment later in the same place with a wicked smile.
“You underestimate my mastery Takada-san, how unfortunate for you. You’ve been quite a bothersome insect, more a wasp than the worm I once thought you to be, to your credit. Wasps can be exterminated almost as easily though, as I’m sure you’re more aware than I, being a true denizen of this world.”
“You know Threka, there are species of insects that can kill a man? Yes, there are ants and wasps, and other insects, that are so poisonous tha,” Joe hoped the talking would be enough of a distraction, as he launched an attack at the Warlock. He’d flashed behind the Luden, only to be knocked aside by a massive flaring of purple-red power. Slamming into a broken down diesel truck, Joe might have slumped to the ground, had the Warlock not materialized in the spot where Joe would have fallen, and clutched at Joe’s throat.
“You’re buzzing and stinging ends here Takada-san. Know that now, even as your life ebbs from you, that I respect you. Until the very end, that’s what the san at the end of your name means in the culture of your homeland, yes…”
A red gloved-hand erupted through Uhl’Threka’s head then, and as Joe hit the ground, panting and gasping for air, he looked up to his savoir, and a smile bloomed across his face. Why hadn’t he reached out to her earlier?
“Well Joe Takada, looks like I’ve forced the argument upon you, haven’t I?”
Linda Johnson, though she referred to herself as Lady Red now, smiled down at him as he still massaged his neck. Joe realized then that she’d been right all along, that there was strength in numbers, that it would take everyone with power to have even a chance of sending the invaders back to wherever they came from.
“Yes, “ his voice still pinched a little from lack of air,” I suppose your right. I suppose it’s time you take me to the Revolt. Let me gather my things, and w-well…thank you; thank you very much.”
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Our first official contact with them was the day they descended like wasps onto every major metropolitan area and began sucking motherfuckers right off the street. I'm talking people being vacuumed straight up outta their loafers. at first it was a funny sight, but then the drones came down and scoured the entire earth.
They processed all but the finest specimen. I was among them , thank Xenu. There were about 1 million of us, they quarantined us in Las Vegas, or what once was Las Vegas.
It wasn't long before people started noticing strange happenings. Some claimed to have bent a spoon with their mind, others could share thoughts silently. As the days went on peoples abilities became undeniable.
This caught our overseers' eyes. They immediately conducted tests and operations on us, often to fatal results. But as the specimens dwindled our powers grew. We took note of this, but did our best to keep it under wraps.
Our shrinking mob had no hope, no leader, no organization, not even a common language, but perhaps these powers were our secret ace in the hole. A power shared by all mankind might be enough to do away with these tentacled bastards.
I myself had been vivisected twice by this point, among countless other ordeals and probes. Needless to say I had had enough. I was also, by that time, able to lift a car with my mind. Ever so slightly, mind you, I would focus all of my will on raising a car on the street just a few millimeters of the ground. so as not to garner suspicion from the eyes in the sky.
We all could feel the surge of power when one of our own succumbed to the brutal treatments those monsters put them through. Everyone could feel the power within them, but now it seemed only I was willing and able to use them.
The fact that I killed them all so easily is a testament to that. None of them had the power to defend themselves, and had resigned themselves to whatever fate these hentai monster looking sons a bitches had in store for them.
But I couldn't let Humanity go down like that, without a fight. I knew if I had the entirety of this power I alone could take them out. I didn't want to kill my own, but its better that it was one of us than one of them that did it.
I plucked several of their ships from the sky and plunged them into into the ocean. It was an amazing sight. So satisfying. I almost came. But then he came down from upon high and explained the truth of it all to me
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[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
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*An excerpt from Stephen Colbert's award winning interview with Sergeant Major Johnathon Stewart- Veteran of the "Dead Contact War"*
Colbert: Whenever you're ready, please, tell us what it was like for you- an enlisted man- when the war broke out, and when the tide changed.
John: Rocks. Everything began, and ended, with rocks.
First it was rocks from the sky. In the early days of the invasion the aliens redirected asteroids onto a collision course with Earth. Not big enough to ruin the planet for colonization, but big enough to kill an eighth of our population in the first attack.
No one is sure who said it first, but soon after we realized who was responsible we started calling them "Stoners". You'll never hear that in anything official of course, it was just something we started saying around the FOB- I'm sorry, that's Forward Operations Base to the layman. You can take the soldier out of the suck, but you can't take the acronyms out of the soldier.
After the first wave softened us up, they started bringing in fighters. The Skipping Stones, or Skippers, were faster and more maneuverable than anything we had. in days they had shredded anything that wasn't hidden, lucky, or buried underground. And they never stopped dropping rocks on our heads. After the sun got blotted out by the smoke, sometimes the only light you'd see at noon was the glow of cities on fire. Two months in, and we were down to about five billion.
So there we were. Out gunned, out matched, and morale was in the shitter. I went from a Private First Class to Sergeant in a matter of weeks because so many people above us had already been taken out. Whatever was left of leadership skipped right over the draft and went straight to conscripting anybody with two working legs and at least one arm and an eye. It was looking like the end times, and some of the religious nuts were into it. Wasn't long before you had crazies in the streets saying that we ought to surrender to what was clearly "God's wrath". Those guys didn't last long.
Around the middle of the fourth month, the Stoners started deploying ground troops. Big fellas on four legs most of the time, two legs when they wanted to shoot you with those big ass rifles. But they were slow upright, like a bear. Covered in armor. White stuff that made us think that they were color blind, cause they would hide, but stick out like a sore thumb wherever they took cover. It was the only advantage we really had. And they realized about the same time we did that it didn't really matter if we saw them or not.
Small arms fire had no effect on the stuff. So they abandoned subtlety and would just waddle onto the field and lay us out. We lost another half billion before the "Sense" kicked in. And finally, things started to turn.
People started to have "dreams". They woke up and KNEW where they were massing troops. KNEW where they were storing munitions. And it didn't take much to confirm these dreams, because everyone was starting to have them. And of course we acted on them.
I had my first "dream" in August of 2038. About four hundred Stoners were massing in what used to be Spirit Lake, Iowa, USA. I sent it up the chain of command they launched an offensive. We caught'em with the space trousers down. It was a Stoner hospital triage for the few that were injured. And we wasted 'em all. I'd seen about a hundred fire fights and never seen one go down. To watch 'em all die like that... it still makes me wanna cry. It was beautiful, and I got another promotion out of it. And we paid for it dearly.
The Stoners retaliated with a fury. The asteroids picked up all over the globe. Stoner troops came in at twice the number they needed. Skippers swarmed around like clouds overhead. And in two weeks, the killed two billion of us. We were all ready to give up. Throw it in. Go to whatever god wanted us.
And then somebody threw a rock.
Private Jordan. Conscripted by the Army while scavenging in what used to be L.A. Skinny little seventeen year old white boy. Skiddish by all accounts. His unit got pinned down on the Northwestern front of Old Canada. Went to fire his first shot of the war, and his rifle jams. Then he realizes that he dropped his sidearm in the crossfire when he ran for cover. He looks up and sees a nine-foot Stoner standing over him, leveling a shot. He panics, grabs a rock, and chucks it as hard as he can right at the things chest plate.
It should have pinged off and got him killed. Instead it shot out of his hand at what some egghead tells me must have been something close to the speed of light. It punched a hole right through the Stoner and blew apart the roof of the building behind him. BOOM!!! "Like God was beating on the biggest, deepest drum you ever heard." That's what I said when I told the Master Sergeant.
I saw the whole thing. The jam. The Stoner. The rock. And, unfortunately, the shot that Stoner put through John's chest in it's death throws. Poor kid. He had just won us the war, and he never even had a chance to register his first kill.
So. I looked around. Found a rock about the size of my fist. And the second I picked it up, I knew why John chucked it. It was like I was meeting an old friend. The first weapon. Just an old rock. And I knew that no matter how bad a throw I was, she would hit whatever I was aiming at. So I picked my target. Cocked back my arm, and threw that stone for all I was worth. Suddenly I felt like I wasn't just throwing a rock. I was hurling all my being at them. My love, my hope, and all of my sorrow. **Boom!!!**
Some nine or ten of them died when their comrade took the shot. One second they were there, the next they were all replaced with a glowing crater of slag.
So I kept grabbing stones and throwing. Soon the rest of the unit was throwing. Quarter of an hour later, and the score was 14 dead on our side, and 90+ on theirs. We were alive. And now we had the the Stone on our side.
Of course it took a while to catch on. No one believed us at first. We tried to show our superiors on controlled ranges, but the rocks just went as far as we could throw and plunked to the ground. Like regular old rocks. It was about intent. Need. It came to us when it was necessary. And even after enough of our superiors had seen it in action, it was hard to convince people to tell their men, "Hey! Stop shooting and throw rocks at them! Trust me!"
But finally they did. With just over a billion people left, and scattered resistance fighting around the globe against an invading force larger than the original population of the planet. And there it was.
We killed them on the ground, in the air, in the sea. And once we realized that there was no "maximum effective range", we shot them right out of local space.
Soon we started putting communication together. Started regrouping and rebuilding. Ten years later and we could finally start to breathe easier. People started having kids and putting together schools. About five years after that, and you could see the sun through the ash clouds. Things were still cold and harsh, but it was over.
I lost a lot of good friends. I lost my whole family, except for my cousin in Nebraska- she still lives with me today, we just... can't handle being separated again. A lot of families are like that still. But we made it through. And it was all because a scared little seventeen year old Private threw a rock.
Yeah. It all came down to rocks.
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Our first official contact with them was the day they descended like wasps onto every major metropolitan area and began sucking motherfuckers right off the street. I'm talking people being vacuumed straight up outta their loafers. at first it was a funny sight, but then the drones came down and scoured the entire earth.
They processed all but the finest specimen. I was among them , thank Xenu. There were about 1 million of us, they quarantined us in Las Vegas, or what once was Las Vegas.
It wasn't long before people started noticing strange happenings. Some claimed to have bent a spoon with their mind, others could share thoughts silently. As the days went on peoples abilities became undeniable.
This caught our overseers' eyes. They immediately conducted tests and operations on us, often to fatal results. But as the specimens dwindled our powers grew. We took note of this, but did our best to keep it under wraps.
Our shrinking mob had no hope, no leader, no organization, not even a common language, but perhaps these powers were our secret ace in the hole. A power shared by all mankind might be enough to do away with these tentacled bastards.
I myself had been vivisected twice by this point, among countless other ordeals and probes. Needless to say I had had enough. I was also, by that time, able to lift a car with my mind. Ever so slightly, mind you, I would focus all of my will on raising a car on the street just a few millimeters of the ground. so as not to garner suspicion from the eyes in the sky.
We all could feel the surge of power when one of our own succumbed to the brutal treatments those monsters put them through. Everyone could feel the power within them, but now it seemed only I was willing and able to use them.
The fact that I killed them all so easily is a testament to that. None of them had the power to defend themselves, and had resigned themselves to whatever fate these hentai monster looking sons a bitches had in store for them.
But I couldn't let Humanity go down like that, without a fight. I knew if I had the entirety of this power I alone could take them out. I didn't want to kill my own, but its better that it was one of us than one of them that did it.
I plucked several of their ships from the sky and plunged them into into the ocean. It was an amazing sight. So satisfying. I almost came. But then he came down from upon high and explained the truth of it all to me
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[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
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When they came the excitement lasted for almost 24 hours. Our first contact with the stars led to speculation of travel their ourselves, and of what wonders these mysterious visitors would bring. They might cure disease, end world hunger, introduce technology to make all of our most far flung fantasies realities. However, the only thing they'd brought for us was death.
Three hours and fifty seven minutes after they arrived they started sending down shuttles. These shuttles didn't go to our political capitals or any scientific or spiritual centers. They didn't even go to our military installations. They went to Tokyo, Delhi, Shanghai, Manila and Mumbai. Their goal was to kill the most human beings in the shortest amount of time.
Two minutes after they launched, they touched down. As people saw the shuttles incoming they'd begun to gather. They surrounded them and shouted greetings in their native tongues. The shuttle doors began to lower, and before they'd even touched the ground the first barrage of energy blasts had fried dozens of onlookers.
Social media posts of these attacks crashed all major website servers, but the word was out. World governments leapt to action and fired nuclear missiles at the landing sites and at the ships in orbit around the planet. They never reached their targets.
Nevertheless some people remained excited. A cohort of mostly younger men began to speak encouragement, derived from their delusions of grandeur, about how surely they'd find a weakness. A virus, a weapon, an almost magical field emitted that would shut off their technology. In truth, maybe there was something, but the rate of elimination was such that anyone truly, objectively considering the situation knew there was no hope.
Many in the Militaries around the world came to this conclusion. Each of the enemy troops came with a personal shield that normal caliber bullets and normal bombs could seem to penetrate, or at the least, any human weapon that had the capability to do so was destroyed before it had the chance to reach them. They seemed to almost be mocking us in this way. Ground troops were allowed to approach, it made them easier to slaughter. Most planes and missiles were shot down, and convoys carrying anti-tank guns destroyed.
We couldn't win, but we knew that we had weapons that could hurt them. Sixteen hours after they'd landed in the first cities, they boarded their transports and left. As anticipated they were moving towards a second wave which included New York City. Hours before planes had been launched, many going towards Washington DC as a ploy to convince the aliens that the politicians were mostly concerned about themselves. Aircraft Carriers moved towards the north east, and all military bases in the country began to trickle vehicles and weapons towards New York. Had they been paying attention, they might have noticed, they might have noticed anyway and not truly assessed the threat level. The end result was that when they touched down the United States, and their allies, launched the largest military assault in human history on New York City. Even North Korea fired their full nuclear arsenal in our support. The alien's defensive capabilities were overwhelmed. By the time their ships sliced through the last weapons that posed a threat to them, they'd lost half their force in the area.
They pulled out, but not out of defeat. Once their troops were destroyed they fired at the city from space. They vaporized the city, and enough layers of sediment that not even the island remained.
The cost for half of one of more than a dozen attack squads was the capability to mount an effective attack upon the enemy ever again. The effort did have one more important gain for humanity, one that has kept us alive even till today. In the few hours that the enemy was overwhelmed, the Military began dispersing tactical nuclear weapons to the surrounding communities. Only a few hours after New York was destroyed, they touched down in Philadelphia. Twenty minutes later they lost a third of their force that happened to be too close to a nuclear explosion.
They adjusted. They changed strategy. They wiped out all major military installations and all potential nuclear arsenals over the next few days. They had, had complete surveillance of the planet since they'd arrived and had gone back and figured out which vehicles leaving certain military installations were likely to have had bombs on them, and where they had gone. Anywhere with a small population and no significance in regards to infrastructure they destroyed from space. This had been anticipated, however, and the bombs had been moved several times by several vehicles, often to quite inconspicuous locations.
They eradicated the populations of Canada and Mexico thinking, correctly, that Americans would protect their own first. Similarly, they destroyed Eastern Europe and Germany. They realized that Pakistan and India had not sent out their bombs, destroyed their facilities, followed by the population. China had so few weapons per population, fewer that were small enough to transport, and fewer still that had been moved without being tracked. They whittled down large population areas they considered to be low risk.
Two weeks in Africa was gone, Australia and all of the island nations of the Pacific were gone. The only country in the Western Hemisphere with a population was the United States. France, the United Kingdom, and Russia remained in Europe. 1/4 of the population of China was all that remained of Asia. Israel was all that remained of the Middle East. All in all around 750 million people remained.
No one should have been surprised by the next move, everyone warned everyone else against it, but in some areas there were no alternatives, and humans are creatures of habit. They poisoned all major water supplies. Within a day half the remaining population was lost. At the same time any vehicles on the road were being destroyed from orbit.
Humans spent most time indoors. Small communities centered around clean sources of water were formed. People learned to live off the land, what roots and berries were edible, and how to hunt deer, squirrel and other game. Winter came to the Northern Hemisphere, and tens of millions more died.
A rumor spread, that a functioning military intelligence base was reporting that nearly a hundred more ships had arrived. They were sending down hundreds of transports that must contain hundreds of thousands of aliens a day. They were apparently colonizing. One colony, in a now abandoned but still mostly functional Beijing, erupted in a mushroom cloud about a week after arrival.
The retaliation was swift, three of the largest remaining population areas left were attacked, and two of them became nuclear wastelands. Then hostile activity stopped. Then the diplomats arrived. The remaining human population would be left alone, they said, if they abandoned the coasts, abandoned all areas heavy in natural resources, all cities, if they moved inland to the country, and if they gave up all electronic devices. Humanity would not come within 50 miles, roughly, of any colony, and if any alien came in contact with a human, the human's life would be forfeit. Many argued. It was clearly a stalling tactic. They might have ground installations that could detect the presence of a nuclear bomb, or they might decide that the remaining land that humans held could be forfeit, vaporized in the name of their own safety. However most agreed to go. The ones that didn't were killed, though two groups managed to get off two more nuclear bombs.
Two years after the fact those that had left were mostly left alone. The aliens were mostly busy with establishing their colonies, integrating their technology, implementing key economic pillars. They seemed to stay in their cities, though they sometimes visited the same monuments and natural wonders that humans used to appreciate. A few of their leavings made their ways into human hands, mostly trash though.
The human population continued to decline, partially due to inability to adjust, partially due to the infeasibility of maintaining certain populations with only so many resources, and partially, at least if you believed some, due to sabotage efforts by the enemy. For instance, a water supply may suddenly go bad. Fears of the water going bad became so great that all across the world certain special humans were thought to have a special power, that they were able to bless the water. Many laughed at this practice, acted as thought they took part as a joke, but many took it seriously, almost matter of fact. Soon enough it was common practice to have a priest bless a water supply every morning. Those that laughed, continued to laugh, but, they did not get sick.
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Our first official contact with them was the day they descended like wasps onto every major metropolitan area and began sucking motherfuckers right off the street. I'm talking people being vacuumed straight up outta their loafers. at first it was a funny sight, but then the drones came down and scoured the entire earth.
They processed all but the finest specimen. I was among them , thank Xenu. There were about 1 million of us, they quarantined us in Las Vegas, or what once was Las Vegas.
It wasn't long before people started noticing strange happenings. Some claimed to have bent a spoon with their mind, others could share thoughts silently. As the days went on peoples abilities became undeniable.
This caught our overseers' eyes. They immediately conducted tests and operations on us, often to fatal results. But as the specimens dwindled our powers grew. We took note of this, but did our best to keep it under wraps.
Our shrinking mob had no hope, no leader, no organization, not even a common language, but perhaps these powers were our secret ace in the hole. A power shared by all mankind might be enough to do away with these tentacled bastards.
I myself had been vivisected twice by this point, among countless other ordeals and probes. Needless to say I had had enough. I was also, by that time, able to lift a car with my mind. Ever so slightly, mind you, I would focus all of my will on raising a car on the street just a few millimeters of the ground. so as not to garner suspicion from the eyes in the sky.
We all could feel the surge of power when one of our own succumbed to the brutal treatments those monsters put them through. Everyone could feel the power within them, but now it seemed only I was willing and able to use them.
The fact that I killed them all so easily is a testament to that. None of them had the power to defend themselves, and had resigned themselves to whatever fate these hentai monster looking sons a bitches had in store for them.
But I couldn't let Humanity go down like that, without a fight. I knew if I had the entirety of this power I alone could take them out. I didn't want to kill my own, but its better that it was one of us than one of them that did it.
I plucked several of their ships from the sky and plunged them into into the ocean. It was an amazing sight. So satisfying. I almost came. But then he came down from upon high and explained the truth of it all to me
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[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
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I once led men to greatness. Until our race became too powerful, and *they* came to cut us down. We designed weapons and ships, specifically engineered against the invaders, but it wasn't enough. In the end, the surface was ravaged, and only a few thousand survivors, those who had sought shelter underground, remained. For their own sake I have sealed all the paths to the surface, and all the paths between shelters, so that humanity may never again band together or become noticeable enough to provoke another attack. I sincerely hope that they will come to forgive me for this...
It has been 200 years since the Great War. All the old tunnels are still sealed. Perhaps humanity has become content with their underground lives. Perhaps they have all perished, and I am the only one left, kept alive only through the energy I used to fight with. It does get so lonely on the surface. Perhaps one of the old genetic engineering facilities survived the war. I could use some company...
It has been 1000 years since the Great War. My creations have been culling any humans they find on the surface, but recently they have been overpowered in combat. One of the humans has even stolen a mech from my men. None of my officers know how a lowly human can pull it off, but I know Spiral Power when I hear about it.
I ought to keep an eye on this "Kamina" person.
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Our first official contact with them was the day they descended like wasps onto every major metropolitan area and began sucking motherfuckers right off the street. I'm talking people being vacuumed straight up outta their loafers. at first it was a funny sight, but then the drones came down and scoured the entire earth.
They processed all but the finest specimen. I was among them , thank Xenu. There were about 1 million of us, they quarantined us in Las Vegas, or what once was Las Vegas.
It wasn't long before people started noticing strange happenings. Some claimed to have bent a spoon with their mind, others could share thoughts silently. As the days went on peoples abilities became undeniable.
This caught our overseers' eyes. They immediately conducted tests and operations on us, often to fatal results. But as the specimens dwindled our powers grew. We took note of this, but did our best to keep it under wraps.
Our shrinking mob had no hope, no leader, no organization, not even a common language, but perhaps these powers were our secret ace in the hole. A power shared by all mankind might be enough to do away with these tentacled bastards.
I myself had been vivisected twice by this point, among countless other ordeals and probes. Needless to say I had had enough. I was also, by that time, able to lift a car with my mind. Ever so slightly, mind you, I would focus all of my will on raising a car on the street just a few millimeters of the ground. so as not to garner suspicion from the eyes in the sky.
We all could feel the surge of power when one of our own succumbed to the brutal treatments those monsters put them through. Everyone could feel the power within them, but now it seemed only I was willing and able to use them.
The fact that I killed them all so easily is a testament to that. None of them had the power to defend themselves, and had resigned themselves to whatever fate these hentai monster looking sons a bitches had in store for them.
But I couldn't let Humanity go down like that, without a fight. I knew if I had the entirety of this power I alone could take them out. I didn't want to kill my own, but its better that it was one of us than one of them that did it.
I plucked several of their ships from the sky and plunged them into into the ocean. It was an amazing sight. So satisfying. I almost came. But then he came down from upon high and explained the truth of it all to me
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[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
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You could feel static in the air. Vibrations rippling the surface of the ground. Like a droplet hitting calm waters.
Her eyes pregnant with tears; cascading down her dirty face. If you had heard her screaming, you would feel the exact moment your heartbreaking into a thousand pieces.
She croaked out the last of her voice. Sobbing her heart out, she clutches the remnants of her younger sister. Trembling and whispering so low only angels could hear "Fuck no, Jesus please. Bring her back. Fuck. this isn't fair." If given the chance she would have sat there and repeated that last sentence over a lifetime. Over and over again.
If only she had been there. She would have found a small momentary haven for her and younger sister.
Gemma's lifeless eyes that had once danced with a playful light despite The Day of Broken Skies had wreaked havoc on our broken world under a couple of years ago. Had now been snuffed away. Stolen from her.
Sophia had never felt rage this chaotic before.
The sound of her blood coursing through her veins drowned out the distant screams and please for help.
Nearby a Senty had rounded the corner, the low baritone humming as it's tracks glided over crumbling walls and rusting cars. The dome glistening as it housed this other worldly species. A language unknown warbled excitedly as it spots Sophia.
Sophia couldn't hear the mechanised alien's weapon start to whir. Only when she felt searing hot air whoosh past her arm did the ground around her stop pulsing.
Sophia's sadness had erupted into a deafening war cry.
She abhorred them. Every last one of them. With every last molecule of her body.
She went to stand up. Instead the ground rushed away from her. She was airborne and as her rage brought her to near madness. What can only be described as the sound of a sonic boom. Darkness.
Sophia struggles to wake. She feebly pushes herself onto her knees. She knows she needs to run. She looks around to find shelter, only to find 100 metres of scorched earth surrounding her. What was left of the Sentinel, was a puddle of molten alien metal.
"What are you?" A terrified voice called from somewhere close. Sophia could only muster a whisper "please help"
Darkness.
Sophia woke to the sound of metal clanging and water rushing. She couldn't see much but a sliver of light. Her migraine made her double over, groaning as she's struggled to make sense of her surroundings.
The pitter patter of tiny feet and giggling could be heard running away. "She's awake", "she's weird", "she looks like my sister" "she's superwoman" little eyes peered into the safety of Sophia's darkness.
"GET AWAY FROM THERE" A fierce growl scattered the kids in different directions.
The huge metal door creaked open.
A giant with a barrel chest stoops to let himself into the room. Light burns Sophia's eyes as she struggles to keep them open.
"So you're a Surge?" His growls rumbling as a billow of smoke floods towards Sophia.
Hey guys,
This was my first attempt at a writing prompt or anything really like this. I don't know the etiquette on how long or short they are supposed to be.
My grammar sucks, so if you have any tips that would help, it would be appreciated!
Could you let me know if I did ok?
Apologies on mobile.
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Our first official contact with them was the day they descended like wasps onto every major metropolitan area and began sucking motherfuckers right off the street. I'm talking people being vacuumed straight up outta their loafers. at first it was a funny sight, but then the drones came down and scoured the entire earth.
They processed all but the finest specimen. I was among them , thank Xenu. There were about 1 million of us, they quarantined us in Las Vegas, or what once was Las Vegas.
It wasn't long before people started noticing strange happenings. Some claimed to have bent a spoon with their mind, others could share thoughts silently. As the days went on peoples abilities became undeniable.
This caught our overseers' eyes. They immediately conducted tests and operations on us, often to fatal results. But as the specimens dwindled our powers grew. We took note of this, but did our best to keep it under wraps.
Our shrinking mob had no hope, no leader, no organization, not even a common language, but perhaps these powers were our secret ace in the hole. A power shared by all mankind might be enough to do away with these tentacled bastards.
I myself had been vivisected twice by this point, among countless other ordeals and probes. Needless to say I had had enough. I was also, by that time, able to lift a car with my mind. Ever so slightly, mind you, I would focus all of my will on raising a car on the street just a few millimeters of the ground. so as not to garner suspicion from the eyes in the sky.
We all could feel the surge of power when one of our own succumbed to the brutal treatments those monsters put them through. Everyone could feel the power within them, but now it seemed only I was willing and able to use them.
The fact that I killed them all so easily is a testament to that. None of them had the power to defend themselves, and had resigned themselves to whatever fate these hentai monster looking sons a bitches had in store for them.
But I couldn't let Humanity go down like that, without a fight. I knew if I had the entirety of this power I alone could take them out. I didn't want to kill my own, but its better that it was one of us than one of them that did it.
I plucked several of their ships from the sky and plunged them into into the ocean. It was an amazing sight. So satisfying. I almost came. But then he came down from upon high and explained the truth of it all to me
|
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[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
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We fought for diplomacy, for cohabitation. They had no intention of hearing our pleas. They had given us a warning: vacate the earth in fourteen days or be eradicated. There were over seven billion people on earth and no space or science organization had the means to transport even a fraction of that number to a different location, let alone the resources that it would take to sustain them.
So, in the face of their ultimatum, we fought. Independently, as first, one nation at a time, launching waves of attacks at their hubs. The United States, Russia, China, Britain; they all fell short of even damaging their ranks. Eventually, the UN announced a global alliance between every country and sovereign power on earth working together towards one goal: survival.
Under normal circumstances, finding out that most countries were harboring weapons of mass destruction would have been cause for war in itself. Under these circumstances, leaders bit their tongues, and organized attacks with weapons so devastating pieces of the world were no longer identifiable. The earth beneath them suffered, wilted, and caved, but they did not. Not even nukes, a omnipresent threat to humanity since their invention, could damage them.
It did not take long for them to realize that we had nothing bigger to throw at them, no other trump cards in our pockets. They began their offensive, and within weeks, over 6,000 years of human civilization was reduced to rubble. Seven billion shrank to seven million, and then seven thousand.
It was at this point that those of us who remained began noticing the changes. We were more in tune with our surroundings, with nature, with the earth around us. We began leaning closer and closer into the fires that kept us warm, finding that it no longer burned our finger tips. Wind no longer chapped our skin, and blizzards were cool breezes against our faces. We were becoming more than what we thought human was.
The seven thousand of us that remained were split into three separate groups, in order to prevent ever being taken out in one assault. We were somewhere in Africa, two thousand of us trekking through a desert. We knew that we were exposed, but we hoped that the vastness of the sands would be cover enough to get us closer to Europe, where we were to meet with one of the other groups to stage our last stand.
I never was a lucky man. I never won the big poker hands, found myself in the right place at the right time. I can't recall a time I ever won a scratcher either. The luckiest thing I think to ever happen to me was finding a wife who would put up with me. She was perfect, and I knew when I married her that if she was the only bit of luck I ever had in my life, that it would be more than enough.
She was killed. Two years ago. Our house collapsed right on top of her when the invasion made it to our city. She didn't have a chance to scream, or feel any pain. She was luckier than I was, and luckier than many of the thousands or millions who suffered slow deaths in the invader's wake.
I could have used a bit of her luck in that desert. We spotted their ship heading toward us in the distance, probably ten minutes before it would make it to our ranks. A few moments later, news that the other two groups had been killed blared through our radios. We looked to each other, no fear left to give, and readied ourselves for the fight. Only some of us were lucky enough to have guns. High caliber rifles in the very back of our group. The rest of us donned spears and swords. We unsheathed them, children grasping their plastic swords to ward off intruders, and raised them in the air and shouted together.
They flew closer, droves of them jumping down to the sand, standing at least two heads taller than an average human. They were faster than us as well, covering twice the distance in their long strides. We knew this scene of pale beasts hurling themselves toward us was likely our last. Still, we charged, and as instinct took over we all learned that there was nothing more human than our inclination for war.
I lead the charge, raising my rusted longsword in the air, thinking back to all of the high fantasy stories I used to enjoy, knowing that there would be no allied army making a last minute entrance to save us. Whenever I would watch those scenes, goosebumps would flood my skin, and the hair on my neck would stand straight up. I felt the same thing now as I ran toward my death.
It was euphoric. I thought about the flight or fight response, and how whenever we are put in that situation, our bodies release chemicals that make us less responsive to pain and wondered if this was my body in action. I understood how our ancestors would have fought beasts larger than us. The feeling coursing through my body was like nothing I had ever experienced. As I drew closer to them, the euphoria seemed to concentrate in my hands and feet, and I could begin to feel the earth shake harder and harder beneath me.
We closed in on one another, and the yells went silent as I jumped higher than I ever thought I could directly into the ranks of the invaders. A primal instinct kicked in, and I dropped my sword halfway through my jump, raising my fist at their leader's head. The moment before it made contact, a bolt of lightning cracked into the creature's flesh and cracked in half before falling to the ground.
As I stood in confusion, I looked behind to the last of my people. Lighting crackled and fire burst from their palms as they maintained their charge. Their fists landed as true as my own, and one by one, after years of fighting, we were finally able to witness the beauty of our enemy’s death. It was as though earth itself was fighting back. Two thousand humans remained, but we were no longer the humans we once knew. We were what humans had been millennia ago, what legend and folklore was based on.
We were the people of earth, and as we would come to find out, had a deeper connection to this planet than any of us could have guessed, let alone any foreign invaders. We had grown with this planet, and long ago, learned to harness its raw power. But power is finite, and when so many of us shared the planet, that power began to grow thinner as we prospered.
Bringing us down to our last stand, dwindling our numbers to so few, triggered the final fail safe that humanity had repressed for so long. We beat them for the first time that day, in a scorching desert that our ancestors avoided. They felt the sting of defeat for the first time, and retaliated with their full force. They had the numbers, but we had the power, and it was time for us to take our planet back.
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Our first official contact with them was the day they descended like wasps onto every major metropolitan area and began sucking motherfuckers right off the street. I'm talking people being vacuumed straight up outta their loafers. at first it was a funny sight, but then the drones came down and scoured the entire earth.
They processed all but the finest specimen. I was among them , thank Xenu. There were about 1 million of us, they quarantined us in Las Vegas, or what once was Las Vegas.
It wasn't long before people started noticing strange happenings. Some claimed to have bent a spoon with their mind, others could share thoughts silently. As the days went on peoples abilities became undeniable.
This caught our overseers' eyes. They immediately conducted tests and operations on us, often to fatal results. But as the specimens dwindled our powers grew. We took note of this, but did our best to keep it under wraps.
Our shrinking mob had no hope, no leader, no organization, not even a common language, but perhaps these powers were our secret ace in the hole. A power shared by all mankind might be enough to do away with these tentacled bastards.
I myself had been vivisected twice by this point, among countless other ordeals and probes. Needless to say I had had enough. I was also, by that time, able to lift a car with my mind. Ever so slightly, mind you, I would focus all of my will on raising a car on the street just a few millimeters of the ground. so as not to garner suspicion from the eyes in the sky.
We all could feel the surge of power when one of our own succumbed to the brutal treatments those monsters put them through. Everyone could feel the power within them, but now it seemed only I was willing and able to use them.
The fact that I killed them all so easily is a testament to that. None of them had the power to defend themselves, and had resigned themselves to whatever fate these hentai monster looking sons a bitches had in store for them.
But I couldn't let Humanity go down like that, without a fight. I knew if I had the entirety of this power I alone could take them out. I didn't want to kill my own, but its better that it was one of us than one of them that did it.
I plucked several of their ships from the sky and plunged them into into the ocean. It was an amazing sight. So satisfying. I almost came. But then he came down from upon high and explained the truth of it all to me
|
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[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
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Bruce stood against the wall, his whole body shaking with fear. Glaring at the creatures with hate filled eyes, he knew his end was near. The Wub had lined up 10 people along a wall execution style, ready to slauter and rid the earth of the human pest. Bruce had a welling feeling in his gut, could this be the powers the people were talking about? The Wub troopers aimed there weapons for the final part of the execution. Bruce couldn't hold it any longer, it was happening and he knew it. Gas filled the street with a toxic purple and yellow haze. The prisoners survived and had only one side effect, the putred smell of sulfer. Bruce looked at the back of his jeans. A giant hole on his butt. " Dear God I'm going to die from that smell, I'm scared for life now" spoke the young girl next to Bruce. His power was growing stronger again, or was it all those chalupas he ate yesterday night? Either way it was time to move. Bruce ran down the street, his pants flayling behind him in the wind.
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Our first official contact with them was the day they descended like wasps onto every major metropolitan area and began sucking motherfuckers right off the street. I'm talking people being vacuumed straight up outta their loafers. at first it was a funny sight, but then the drones came down and scoured the entire earth.
They processed all but the finest specimen. I was among them , thank Xenu. There were about 1 million of us, they quarantined us in Las Vegas, or what once was Las Vegas.
It wasn't long before people started noticing strange happenings. Some claimed to have bent a spoon with their mind, others could share thoughts silently. As the days went on peoples abilities became undeniable.
This caught our overseers' eyes. They immediately conducted tests and operations on us, often to fatal results. But as the specimens dwindled our powers grew. We took note of this, but did our best to keep it under wraps.
Our shrinking mob had no hope, no leader, no organization, not even a common language, but perhaps these powers were our secret ace in the hole. A power shared by all mankind might be enough to do away with these tentacled bastards.
I myself had been vivisected twice by this point, among countless other ordeals and probes. Needless to say I had had enough. I was also, by that time, able to lift a car with my mind. Ever so slightly, mind you, I would focus all of my will on raising a car on the street just a few millimeters of the ground. so as not to garner suspicion from the eyes in the sky.
We all could feel the surge of power when one of our own succumbed to the brutal treatments those monsters put them through. Everyone could feel the power within them, but now it seemed only I was willing and able to use them.
The fact that I killed them all so easily is a testament to that. None of them had the power to defend themselves, and had resigned themselves to whatever fate these hentai monster looking sons a bitches had in store for them.
But I couldn't let Humanity go down like that, without a fight. I knew if I had the entirety of this power I alone could take them out. I didn't want to kill my own, but its better that it was one of us than one of them that did it.
I plucked several of their ships from the sky and plunged them into into the ocean. It was an amazing sight. So satisfying. I almost came. But then he came down from upon high and explained the truth of it all to me
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[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
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Waking up it felt as if i was on fire, like electricity was burning my soul away. Piece by piece it was being ripped away in time with the rhythm of my heart. As soon as i felt that i could not go on something resonated with my mind. All of a sudden that burning was replaced with a tempered heat as if my soul itself was being reborn within those fires.
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As i laid there for the next couple minutes it felt as my body was rebooting itself, my senses slowly turning back on. The first thing i noticed was the smell of smoke all around me. Struggling at first, i pushed myself off the ground to try to find the source of the smell. Walking closer to my front door the smell increased in intensity as i neared. As I opened the door i felt a rush of hot air to meet me. Outside the embers of the world that i once knew danced upon the wind like the stars in the skies. The city i had grown up in was on fire, blazing like the gods themselves dropped hell fire upon the world. Suddenly there was a massive explosion and i felt a new way of heat as i was forced to close my eyes against the light. As i the light subsided i traced the sound to the rend that part of the city once occupied.
Looking up from the destruction my heart stop, on the horizon a colossus of a ship had teardrops falling on to the ground that the city once laid. Ice filled within my gut as i gazed upon the damage that the ship had brought. Dread gripping my heart i could only think of one thing, escape.
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After that night i began to question myself, what right do i have to live with all those that surely were lost within the eradication of the city. Why was i still alive while all those people were dead. After a few more days i began to hears whispers as the tempered heat came back to me filling me with someone. I did not know what was happening but those whispers started to cooing me into comfort. They whispered that what happened to those in the city was not my fault and that nothing i could've done could've changed what took place there. This soothed my worries some but i kept feeling i there was something that i had to do.
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A week later i was stopping at a river to drink, i do not know which one anymore as i had lost all form of direction due to my hunger which was a constant pain for me. After finishing i sat on the river bank staring into the water. This was becoming increasing common lately. I do not know if it was the lack of food or the shock of destructed all those days ago but as i stared into those waters the whispers that had been my constant companion began to grow louder and louder. With there musings i began to lose myself in their words, drifting in and out of myself. As i regained myself i felt a cool blanket wrapped around myself. As if nature itself embraced me the sight around me breathtaking. Lilies sprouted around a red maple tree that wrapped around me as if to comfort me. The whispers did not silence as they once did before. Now they murmur in a chorus that clearly rang through me. The warmth that always felt now began to bubble as they spoke. "Through our sacrifice you preserve us." With that the heat within me began to rapidly cool within me, hardening into steel. I knew what i must do in that moment. Without though i heard the words "Retentat ligni vitae, e pluribus unum" come to my mouth. With that i took off, back to the ruined city.
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Our first official contact with them was the day they descended like wasps onto every major metropolitan area and began sucking motherfuckers right off the street. I'm talking people being vacuumed straight up outta their loafers. at first it was a funny sight, but then the drones came down and scoured the entire earth.
They processed all but the finest specimen. I was among them , thank Xenu. There were about 1 million of us, they quarantined us in Las Vegas, or what once was Las Vegas.
It wasn't long before people started noticing strange happenings. Some claimed to have bent a spoon with their mind, others could share thoughts silently. As the days went on peoples abilities became undeniable.
This caught our overseers' eyes. They immediately conducted tests and operations on us, often to fatal results. But as the specimens dwindled our powers grew. We took note of this, but did our best to keep it under wraps.
Our shrinking mob had no hope, no leader, no organization, not even a common language, but perhaps these powers were our secret ace in the hole. A power shared by all mankind might be enough to do away with these tentacled bastards.
I myself had been vivisected twice by this point, among countless other ordeals and probes. Needless to say I had had enough. I was also, by that time, able to lift a car with my mind. Ever so slightly, mind you, I would focus all of my will on raising a car on the street just a few millimeters of the ground. so as not to garner suspicion from the eyes in the sky.
We all could feel the surge of power when one of our own succumbed to the brutal treatments those monsters put them through. Everyone could feel the power within them, but now it seemed only I was willing and able to use them.
The fact that I killed them all so easily is a testament to that. None of them had the power to defend themselves, and had resigned themselves to whatever fate these hentai monster looking sons a bitches had in store for them.
But I couldn't let Humanity go down like that, without a fight. I knew if I had the entirety of this power I alone could take them out. I didn't want to kill my own, but its better that it was one of us than one of them that did it.
I plucked several of their ships from the sky and plunged them into into the ocean. It was an amazing sight. So satisfying. I almost came. But then he came down from upon high and explained the truth of it all to me
|
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[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
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I don't know how to start here. None of this makes any sense.
I grew up watching the old Superman movies on tape. I grew up wanting to be like the man himself; I always thought I'd do what he did if I ended up with his powers. I remember fantasizing about it maybe a week before first contact; it was a thought I had often.
I told myself I'd skip the subtext and buy an actual Superman costume online before I went flying around the world chucking nukes into deep space and putting out forest fires. So that when people saw me coming, they'd know I was coming to help.
There are a few problems with that now. The first one that comes to mind is, there's no one left to impress like that. The other six survivors don't need or want Superman right now, besides, you guys are all as invincible as I am.
Second, I'm not as good a guy as Clark Kent ever was. I see that now; let me explain. There are seven human beings still alive on Earth; the rest of us were wiped out by aliens. They brought colony ships the size of the Moon, dozens of them; you can see the whole fleet at night. I can't imagine how many of them there are. Hundreds of billions? Trillions?
Trillions of them against seven of us, and we're winning. One of us brought down a colony ship yesterday. Again, this thing was moon-sized and filled with billions of aliens. She took a running start and jumped from the Earth's surface hard enough to punch a hole out the back of the ship. The whole thing just shattered into scrap metal.
I think we should surrender. I haven't said so out loud, not to any of you, but I still think it. Seven of us against trillions of them, and why are we fighting? I don't think it's for revenge, but it's something close. It isn't to save the world; we got these powers too late for that. Therein lies the problem. Nothing we do to these invaders will bring back the people they killled. Our actions from now on can only decide what happens to us and the aliens. I think a trillion lives are worth more than seven, no matter how we ended up in this situation. No matter who those lives are, human or otherwise.
I dunno if you agree with that or not. I dunno which choice Superman would make. I can't even picture him thinking of a moral dilemma like this. To Superman, the right thing to do is instantly obvious. Me though; I have to think on it.
So I thought on it, and I realized something. Whatever the source of our powers is, whether you call it magic or mana or Light or a million other things; there is a source. It's something only humans can use. And we can be reasonably sure evolution just doesn't do this.
I think there's a God. I never believed in Him before first contact, and for a while afterward I kinda figured the existence of aliens confirmed it. I read a book once that had this line about evolution. *There were only two known causes of purposeful complexity. Natural selection, which produced things like butterflies. And intelligent engineering, which produced things like cars.*
This magic, whatever it really is, it didn't evolve. It was created, and whatever entity has the resources to create a source of magic must, by definition, be a god. One that specifically took interest in humans for a number of possible reasons, including ones suggested by a few of our religions. And those religions usually also claim that God has *been* here, to Earth, and spoke in person with His creations. Wherever He is now, he hasn't been paying attention.
One inference leads to another. If magic, then God. If God, then Heaven. If Heaven, then afterlife and souls and *one possible chance* to undo the extinction of the human race and end the conflict with these aliens without murdering them all. God isn't paying attention though, so someone has to go find Him and tell Him to look this way.
I'm leaving. I don't know what will happen to me if I fly too far from Earth or the Sun; maybe the magic will cut off and I'll need air again and I'll die out there in space. I don't even know where I'm going; which way God went; so I'm relying on faith and that sounds like a shitty plan, but I have to do it.
I leave this note to you, the six of you, and I hope you forgive me. I hope you do what you can to spare the enemy's life, and I hope I come back one day to fix this. If not, this is my suicide note. There are worse ways to die.
I have to do this. The chance to save seven billion lives, however slim, is worth the risk to my one life, however great. Now that I think about it, that does sound almost like what Superman might say.
Goodbye.
|
Our first official contact with them was the day they descended like wasps onto every major metropolitan area and began sucking motherfuckers right off the street. I'm talking people being vacuumed straight up outta their loafers. at first it was a funny sight, but then the drones came down and scoured the entire earth.
They processed all but the finest specimen. I was among them , thank Xenu. There were about 1 million of us, they quarantined us in Las Vegas, or what once was Las Vegas.
It wasn't long before people started noticing strange happenings. Some claimed to have bent a spoon with their mind, others could share thoughts silently. As the days went on peoples abilities became undeniable.
This caught our overseers' eyes. They immediately conducted tests and operations on us, often to fatal results. But as the specimens dwindled our powers grew. We took note of this, but did our best to keep it under wraps.
Our shrinking mob had no hope, no leader, no organization, not even a common language, but perhaps these powers were our secret ace in the hole. A power shared by all mankind might be enough to do away with these tentacled bastards.
I myself had been vivisected twice by this point, among countless other ordeals and probes. Needless to say I had had enough. I was also, by that time, able to lift a car with my mind. Ever so slightly, mind you, I would focus all of my will on raising a car on the street just a few millimeters of the ground. so as not to garner suspicion from the eyes in the sky.
We all could feel the surge of power when one of our own succumbed to the brutal treatments those monsters put them through. Everyone could feel the power within them, but now it seemed only I was willing and able to use them.
The fact that I killed them all so easily is a testament to that. None of them had the power to defend themselves, and had resigned themselves to whatever fate these hentai monster looking sons a bitches had in store for them.
But I couldn't let Humanity go down like that, without a fight. I knew if I had the entirety of this power I alone could take them out. I didn't want to kill my own, but its better that it was one of us than one of them that did it.
I plucked several of their ships from the sky and plunged them into into the ocean. It was an amazing sight. So satisfying. I almost came. But then he came down from upon high and explained the truth of it all to me
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
There is a crucial aspect to conflict one must remember above all else; when victory is the desired outcome, all costs must be put on the line. If you truly seek your goal, you must be willing to sacrifice everything. Because if it comes down to it, that moment when you must choose between victory and survival… the choice must be obvious.
---
I wouldn’t have been able to do it without him. Not that the task was impossible with only one person, but the sheer magnitude of the decision, the guilt of suffering the consequences – it was too much for my morality to endure. I still harbor some resentment, and I wish there was another way. But I have no regrets. If it was necessary, I’d do it all again. The gnawing at the back of my head, telling me I was selfish and incompetent, never stopped. I accept it as punishment for my sin. No amount of atonement could justify the deaths of so many.
I find it hard to believe, myself. The display had counted 7.9 billion – the outcome was so harsh that it was easier to count the survivors than try to comprehend the casualties.
I suppose I must start at the beginning.
---
My name is Daijiro Kojima. I grew up in Moni, a country town at the foot of a mountain. Our people disliked the modern world, and chose to abstain from the technologies of the so-called Western Man. My brother Kentaro disproved of this very much. He scolded our chief often for being “ancient” and “dictatorial.” I couldn’t disagree with his accusations, as they were, to an extent, true. We held to old customs, and we clung to the advice and teachings of our chief. It was unsafe to wander outside the fence, thanks to the wolves roaming the forest, so we were largely restricted to wandering the farms and the streets. It was a peaceful life, though, and we ate well in the company of our families.
Every week we gathered to pay tribute to the Effigy of the Mount, feeding it the fruits of our farms and cattle so it could sustain us with bountiful harvests. I didn’t know how, but the soil here was… different. To this day I was unsure of it, perhaps being a trick of the light or just my imagination, but the ground seemed to give off an ever so faint glow under the moon, just barely noticeable. I attributed the glow to be the spirit of the mount moving in the ground. Every year we reaped rewards that far exceeded the effort we put in.
We thanked the chief for his leadership, and we thanked the mount for its generosity. We were merry and happy.
---
Kentaro and I always trained with the village guardsmen, learning how to use the sword and be fleet of foot. The latter skills were always emphasized, as the chief said that our swordsmanship would be no match for the weapons of the outside world. The elders, those who travelled across the land and meditated in the fields, told us stories of the Western Man – I always wondered about the term, as they were apparently to the East and North too, even the South where the ocean is. Why call them Western if they are everywhere? But, I digress. The elders told us of the extensive range of their armaments, and the frightening speed of their attacks. It was something out of a magic story, I was sure. Kentaro told me he would protect me if the Western Man came to our village, but I always shrugged him off. We were both past childhood anyway. I was more than capable of protecting myself.
But I never expected us to be the ones killing them.
---
It happened while I was picking a primrose for mother. I’d been growing one behind one of the storehouses, so it would be kept a surprise. She loved flowers, especially pink ones. It would make the perfect birthday present. It became dark so suddenly that I thought a vine had torn off the storehouse and fallen over me, but I looked up to see the clouds break apart and disappear, absorbed into a blackened sky. It was dark as night, and I stumbled through the leaves towards light. After feeling along the sides of building walls along the street for a while, amidst panicking women and screaming children, I found myself in the village square. Guards ran to and for with torches, yelling to each other and ushering civilians to safety. I saw my father carrying boxes with some other men. I was confused – why was the sky black? Had the sun run away before the moon was ready to wake? Was the Mount angry at us?
And then Kentaro was by my side.
“Hey, Dai… everything’s going to be okay, hear me? We’ll figure this out.”
I nodded. The chief stumbled past with a heavy box, but my brother caught him by the shoulder.
“Hey, old man, what’s going on? Where’s the light gone?”
Eyes wide, the chief turned to us. “Get everyone you can find and gather them at the effigy. I had no idea they would return, not at a time like this.”
“What are you talking about? Are we under attack?”
“I’ll explain everything later. The most important thing now is to get everyone to safety. Here,” he fumbled in his pocked for a second and retrieved a small object, shoving it into Kentaro’s hand. “Take this. Offer it to the effigy as you would a tribute. We need to protect everyone we can.”
“You got it, old man. Come on, Dai.”
So we took a torch and scampered about, sending everyone we could at the effigy. Mother showed up too, and I suddenly remembered the primrose I’d left behind the storehouse. She asked about our father, and we didn’t see him there. More of the guardsmen were arriving, and he wasn’t among them. Kentaro and I left to look for him, starting first at the barracks then progressing through the streets. We figured he’d gone to the effigy while we were searching, so we started heading back. However, as we passed a farm we saw a dozen or so men staring at the sky. We followed their gaze and there, in the air above us, we saw the blackness move. It seemed to bend and shift, as if it was a giant piece of cartilage. Parts of it seemed to brighten slightly, and I saw a multitude of small specks appearing from the lighter parts. I watched as the specks grew larger, then realized they were distant objects heading towards us. Kentaro put his hand on my shoulder.
“Dai… we should go.”
“But… what are those? Birds?”
“Whatever they are, it can’t be good.”
For a second there was a bright flash amidst the objects, and a split second later the farmers screamed. The dirt around them erupted, spewing mounds of soil into the air. They scrambled back, running for the effigy. Kentaro and I didn’t hesitate any longer. When we returned, the chief was waiting for us, more stressed than I’d ever seen him.
“You left and took the key with you?! Do you have any idea of the risk you just put us in?!” His loud voice drew several eyes from those around us.
“Oh, sorry… this thing, right?” Kentaro drew out the object he’d been given before. It was about half the size of his palm, colored black and shaped like a disc, engraved with the face of a cat, just like the one on the effigy. They say that black cats are a sign of good fortune. And by the looks of things, we’re going to need all the fortune we can get.
“Yes yes yes – give it here!” The chief snatched the disc from Kentaro’s hand and hurried over to the effigy, dropping it in the tribute slot. The disc would travel down a pipe and end up… somewhere. I was unsure of where the tributes ended up but I was certain it wasn’t underneath the chief’s house like some kids had joked.
“What now, old man?” Kentaro asked, arms on his hips.
“Ken, show some respect.” Father said, appearing from the group to slap Kentaro across the back.
“S-sorry, chief.”
The chief was silent, instead speaking with a sly grin. The earth shook, forcing me to steady myself on Kentaro’s arm. The effigy broke open, splitting the cat’s face in two. There were several loud gasps and outcries from those gathered, but the chief urged them to calm down. The cracked effigy left a big hole in the ground, laden with steps that seemed to descend to the center of the earth.
“Everyone, follow me! Carry everything you can!” The chief yelled, rushing down the hole and disappearing into the darkness, followed by the residents from the village. I looked back to the objects in the sky, which were approaching all the while. They must’ve been a hundred miles when we first saw them, but I was sure they were a mere couple miles away now.
I felt a pair of hands gripping my shoulders, moving me forward. “Come on, Dai, let’s go!” Kentaro had a huge smile on his face, eyes wide.
“Brother..?”
“This is exciting, right? Something different is happening!” Did he fail to notice the power of those things? Exploding the ground from so far away in an instant? He always was a strange one, I suppose.
So we descended the steps, each of us carrying a box of supplies. Food, I think. We travelled for maybe 10 minutes, and I felt the temperature slowly dropping. I looked up and could no longer see the entrance nor feel the rumbling from the explosions. Eventually we reached a flat area of dirt, about the size of a house interior. The whole village crowded there, staring at the large wall opposite the end of the steps. It was made of metal, and shined so clearly that in the light of the torches, we could see our reflections. The wall was adorned with strange markings and indentations. The chief walked up to it, putting a hand against it. He sighed, as if in disappointment. I saw his lips move, but he made no sound.
**PART TWO IN CHILD COMMENT**
|
Our first official contact with them was the day they descended like wasps onto every major metropolitan area and began sucking motherfuckers right off the street. I'm talking people being vacuumed straight up outta their loafers. at first it was a funny sight, but then the drones came down and scoured the entire earth.
They processed all but the finest specimen. I was among them , thank Xenu. There were about 1 million of us, they quarantined us in Las Vegas, or what once was Las Vegas.
It wasn't long before people started noticing strange happenings. Some claimed to have bent a spoon with their mind, others could share thoughts silently. As the days went on peoples abilities became undeniable.
This caught our overseers' eyes. They immediately conducted tests and operations on us, often to fatal results. But as the specimens dwindled our powers grew. We took note of this, but did our best to keep it under wraps.
Our shrinking mob had no hope, no leader, no organization, not even a common language, but perhaps these powers were our secret ace in the hole. A power shared by all mankind might be enough to do away with these tentacled bastards.
I myself had been vivisected twice by this point, among countless other ordeals and probes. Needless to say I had had enough. I was also, by that time, able to lift a car with my mind. Ever so slightly, mind you, I would focus all of my will on raising a car on the street just a few millimeters of the ground. so as not to garner suspicion from the eyes in the sky.
We all could feel the surge of power when one of our own succumbed to the brutal treatments those monsters put them through. Everyone could feel the power within them, but now it seemed only I was willing and able to use them.
The fact that I killed them all so easily is a testament to that. None of them had the power to defend themselves, and had resigned themselves to whatever fate these hentai monster looking sons a bitches had in store for them.
But I couldn't let Humanity go down like that, without a fight. I knew if I had the entirety of this power I alone could take them out. I didn't want to kill my own, but its better that it was one of us than one of them that did it.
I plucked several of their ships from the sky and plunged them into into the ocean. It was an amazing sight. So satisfying. I almost came. But then he came down from upon high and explained the truth of it all to me
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
"Hang on, so there's some fixed amount of power and it's divided equally among all humans?"
"Yep."
"And you, a strange alien creature, have culled the human population in order to increase the power granted to any one individual?"
"Exactly. Do you want to try out your new powers?"
"I've a few questions first actually -- as a more advanced intelligence you're certainly aware of evolution, of the fact that all life forms here on earth share a common ancestor, of the fact that distinct species arise by a process of natural selection, where only those which adapt best to their environment survive?"
"Go on..."
"And you're telling me that the human species possess some special access to magical powers, with the magnitude of each individual's access _depending explicitly on the number of other alive humans_?
"Yeah. Is there a problem?"
"You bet there's a problem. What we call human life is unavoidably arbitrary. If we draw up the family tree showing the ancestry of all humans, at some point we make it back to some gross slime that definitely isn't human, and so at some point between today and whenever the slime was around we need to choose some generation and say 'Ok, after this we're human'. Maybe before we were neanderthal, or what have you, but neanderthal is just a label we made up too, every species is. You're telling me that whether or not an organism is labeled human actually has (1) some effect on the organism, and, worse, (2) some effect on every other organism we call human. But as I've argued, these labels are completely arbitrary."
"You know you can fly now? Don't you want to try that out?"
"We even have a maximally human organism, against which all other organisms are compared to test their human-ness? It's Carl Linnaeus -- in honour of all the work he did on species [we locked his skeleton up somewhere](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Type_(biology)#Lectotype) and granted him the title of Ur-human. Which means that everyone alive today is slightly less human than some family of Swedish nerds in the 1700s. And if we'd happened to have chosen someone else, we'd have a different ordering of humanity in terms of human-ness."
"You can teleport! You could go somewhere else, somewhere far far away, _right now_. Wouldn't that be fun?"
"Worse, we haven't stopped evolving. At some point in the future we'll be so far from Carl Linnaeus that we'll need a new label to describe us. Do those powers disappear then? Once we arbitrarily decide to call ourselves something else? Seems hard to believe really."
"Oh My God do you know this is why no one has bothered to contact you people all this time? I'm leaving. Do us all a favour and don't go developing any sort of space exploration program. If I see a human come anywhere near our star system I will see to their Zapping myself."
"How will you decide whether the organism is human or not?"
[See also](http://slatestarcodex.com/2014/11/21/the-categories-were-made-for-man-not-man-for-the-categories/)
|
Our first official contact with them was the day they descended like wasps onto every major metropolitan area and began sucking motherfuckers right off the street. I'm talking people being vacuumed straight up outta their loafers. at first it was a funny sight, but then the drones came down and scoured the entire earth.
They processed all but the finest specimen. I was among them , thank Xenu. There were about 1 million of us, they quarantined us in Las Vegas, or what once was Las Vegas.
It wasn't long before people started noticing strange happenings. Some claimed to have bent a spoon with their mind, others could share thoughts silently. As the days went on peoples abilities became undeniable.
This caught our overseers' eyes. They immediately conducted tests and operations on us, often to fatal results. But as the specimens dwindled our powers grew. We took note of this, but did our best to keep it under wraps.
Our shrinking mob had no hope, no leader, no organization, not even a common language, but perhaps these powers were our secret ace in the hole. A power shared by all mankind might be enough to do away with these tentacled bastards.
I myself had been vivisected twice by this point, among countless other ordeals and probes. Needless to say I had had enough. I was also, by that time, able to lift a car with my mind. Ever so slightly, mind you, I would focus all of my will on raising a car on the street just a few millimeters of the ground. so as not to garner suspicion from the eyes in the sky.
We all could feel the surge of power when one of our own succumbed to the brutal treatments those monsters put them through. Everyone could feel the power within them, but now it seemed only I was willing and able to use them.
The fact that I killed them all so easily is a testament to that. None of them had the power to defend themselves, and had resigned themselves to whatever fate these hentai monster looking sons a bitches had in store for them.
But I couldn't let Humanity go down like that, without a fight. I knew if I had the entirety of this power I alone could take them out. I didn't want to kill my own, but its better that it was one of us than one of them that did it.
I plucked several of their ships from the sky and plunged them into into the ocean. It was an amazing sight. So satisfying. I almost came. But then he came down from upon high and explained the truth of it all to me
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
First contact was made almost ten years ago. They seemed well versed in warfare, in less than a day there wasn't a satellite left in the sky or a cable under the sea. Communication between nations fell to old ground bounce long range radios pulled out of mothballs. Conventional weapons proved to be ineffective and the nuclear option didn't fare much better. Eventually even the old analog radios where jammed. Steadily they started to wipe us out. Great mechanized beasts roamed the land, directed energy weapons reduced any caught in there sight to ash.
Slowly word began to spread of old legends come to light. Wizards, witches even warlocks making pacts with demons to gain power. Men and women alike where seen calling fourth searing bolts of lighting from the sky. Ripping the ground open to devour and crush any of the aliens creations that wandered to close to the last bastions of humanity. Liquefying the great metal monsters with conjured fire. Even death was no relief to our fallen comrades as the necromancers raised forth gargantuan armies of the dead. Crushing the invaders with the sheer mass of rotting meat and gleaming bone. As our species continued to fight for our existence more of the things that go bump in the night started coming to light.
At first they appeared to be fellow humans but it soon became clear that was not the case. The first were the Werewolves, nigh unkillable but by blessed silver. Transforming into great beasts they used claws and teeth to rend through armor only magic could penetrate. These furry juggernauts relied on humans not for food as in the old tales but as breeding stock. As we continued to dwindle in number they could no longer stalk the shadows. Though small in numbers they made up for it in shear brutality. Soon all of the others concealed in the shadows made themselves known. The vampires where less well received than the wolves but in the end they needed us. Becoming a donor for one elevated ones physically abilities for a time. Though to somes disappointment, crosses, sunlight and garlic did not faze them.
The Fae became another ally though much less trustful, one had to be cautious when speaking with them. Never make an open ended bargain with one, it never ends in your favor. Whatever the invaders mechanized army consisted of it was not iron and they seemed to take much glee in the wanton destruction they could wield. Many hopped the elves and dwarves of some fairy tales would come to be but to this day none have materialized. Though the dragons made there presence known they more are focused on what little territory they still held and if you happen to occupy it you have one hell of a home security system. Rumblings of the old gods walking among man once more have been heard but not verified.
As of now hope has yet to completely die for humanity and its newly rediscovered allies. While the dragons and invaders still rule the skies we have done much to retake the land. The current status of humanity as a whole is still not truly known, while magic is useful as a weapons it does not give it self over willingly to be used to pass missives. Communication over the oceans and across continents is still a slow process and we are just starting to retake the seas.
-Field Commander, 3rd Magus Division, Capt Jasper D. Wulf
|
Our first official contact with them was the day they descended like wasps onto every major metropolitan area and began sucking motherfuckers right off the street. I'm talking people being vacuumed straight up outta their loafers. at first it was a funny sight, but then the drones came down and scoured the entire earth.
They processed all but the finest specimen. I was among them , thank Xenu. There were about 1 million of us, they quarantined us in Las Vegas, or what once was Las Vegas.
It wasn't long before people started noticing strange happenings. Some claimed to have bent a spoon with their mind, others could share thoughts silently. As the days went on peoples abilities became undeniable.
This caught our overseers' eyes. They immediately conducted tests and operations on us, often to fatal results. But as the specimens dwindled our powers grew. We took note of this, but did our best to keep it under wraps.
Our shrinking mob had no hope, no leader, no organization, not even a common language, but perhaps these powers were our secret ace in the hole. A power shared by all mankind might be enough to do away with these tentacled bastards.
I myself had been vivisected twice by this point, among countless other ordeals and probes. Needless to say I had had enough. I was also, by that time, able to lift a car with my mind. Ever so slightly, mind you, I would focus all of my will on raising a car on the street just a few millimeters of the ground. so as not to garner suspicion from the eyes in the sky.
We all could feel the surge of power when one of our own succumbed to the brutal treatments those monsters put them through. Everyone could feel the power within them, but now it seemed only I was willing and able to use them.
The fact that I killed them all so easily is a testament to that. None of them had the power to defend themselves, and had resigned themselves to whatever fate these hentai monster looking sons a bitches had in store for them.
But I couldn't let Humanity go down like that, without a fight. I knew if I had the entirety of this power I alone could take them out. I didn't want to kill my own, but its better that it was one of us than one of them that did it.
I plucked several of their ships from the sky and plunged them into into the ocean. It was an amazing sight. So satisfying. I almost came. But then he came down from upon high and explained the truth of it all to me
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
I awoke in the night, the distant sounds of screams altogether too familiar. It didn't sound isolated - they must have found a safe-haven. Hundreds would be massacred. It was just like I said; don't bunch together. Don't rely on each other for support. Survival is all about laying low, keeping quiet and hoping that luck was on your side.
I'd been having a strange dream. It wasn't a nightmare, which was rare already; it was more of a premonition. I'd felt a burning sensation in my hand, as if there were energy coursing through it. The feeling still stuck with me, and I focused on it to try drown out the screams.
********
There were more of them now; towering beasts, eldritch monstrosities. We'd imagined aliens as these advanced beings, visiting us with technology that we could not even comprehend, bestowing knowledge and gifts. But no.
They were unimaginable nightmares, drifting in through space, landing on our forsaken planet and hunting us mercilessly. Our combined efforts only took down a few, and the ensuing nuclear winter only made things worse. And now they hunt us down without rest. It doesn't seem to be for sustenance - they ignore other animals, though they will harm them if it is in their way. No; it feels like eradication. And more come every day.
But the the dreams won't go away. What little sleep I have is filled with feelings of flame and fury; of ominous premonition, of terrifying power. I feel that energy more and more. I suspect that I am going mad, but I'd rather be mad than dead. And judging by my travels, it seems that I am one of the few left with the privilege of choice.
Sleep comes to me eventually, the incessant chittering of the aliens filtering through my dreams of intrigue, of primal power.
*****
I awoke to a sound of crashing, of beastly lumbering.
*I've been found.*
I sprinted from my lair, a crumbling ruin, just as a jagged tentacle pierced through the foundations. Rubble collapsed around me as I leapt through a window, landing on the floor below in a clumsy roll. There was no time to think about the pain - only escape.
I ran as fast as I could, praying that it was only one, praying that it could not keep up. There were many different forms of alien, and most of the massive ones were slow in the city. They could run at least as fast as a man, but the buildings and ruins proved ample obstacles. With a bit of luck, I could survive this. I had done so before.
A sudden crash to my right sent glass flying just ahead of me. An arthropod the size of a large dog landed in front of me, its razor-sharp legs digging into the floor. There was no chance of running from it. But if I climbed the building to avoid it, my pursuer would destroy it as if it was a cardboard box. I had two choices, but either led to death.
My right hand burned, a sharp red glow emitting from my palm. It felt like trapped electricity. Like every bit of primal power focused into a single thought.
A choice:
Shall I **fight**, or **flee**?
****
[Part II](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7i4fn8/wp_resurge_ii/) | [Part III](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7i4p1p/wp_resurgence_iii/) | [Part IV (new)](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7i65tc/wp_resurgence_iv/)
It's a 'Choose Your Own Adventure' story! Vote on whichever choice you like best, and I hope I won't disappoint :)
/r/CroatianSpy
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Our first official contact with them was the day they descended like wasps onto every major metropolitan area and began sucking motherfuckers right off the street. I'm talking people being vacuumed straight up outta their loafers. at first it was a funny sight, but then the drones came down and scoured the entire earth.
They processed all but the finest specimen. I was among them , thank Xenu. There were about 1 million of us, they quarantined us in Las Vegas, or what once was Las Vegas.
It wasn't long before people started noticing strange happenings. Some claimed to have bent a spoon with their mind, others could share thoughts silently. As the days went on peoples abilities became undeniable.
This caught our overseers' eyes. They immediately conducted tests and operations on us, often to fatal results. But as the specimens dwindled our powers grew. We took note of this, but did our best to keep it under wraps.
Our shrinking mob had no hope, no leader, no organization, not even a common language, but perhaps these powers were our secret ace in the hole. A power shared by all mankind might be enough to do away with these tentacled bastards.
I myself had been vivisected twice by this point, among countless other ordeals and probes. Needless to say I had had enough. I was also, by that time, able to lift a car with my mind. Ever so slightly, mind you, I would focus all of my will on raising a car on the street just a few millimeters of the ground. so as not to garner suspicion from the eyes in the sky.
We all could feel the surge of power when one of our own succumbed to the brutal treatments those monsters put them through. Everyone could feel the power within them, but now it seemed only I was willing and able to use them.
The fact that I killed them all so easily is a testament to that. None of them had the power to defend themselves, and had resigned themselves to whatever fate these hentai monster looking sons a bitches had in store for them.
But I couldn't let Humanity go down like that, without a fight. I knew if I had the entirety of this power I alone could take them out. I didn't want to kill my own, but its better that it was one of us than one of them that did it.
I plucked several of their ships from the sky and plunged them into into the ocean. It was an amazing sight. So satisfying. I almost came. But then he came down from upon high and explained the truth of it all to me
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[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
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All us helpless billions watch on our little glowing rectangles as our fellow humans die in droves. They fall screaming, choking, burning. The internet’s bad in the house, so we hunker on the steps of the chicken coop to see it.
Together we watch the end of the world. Our breath clouds and storms around us. But we do not notice the cold. Our hearts and bones are lead.
My siblings don’t make a sound. I look between the three of them and the black, faultless sky. I wonder if the afterlife looks like night, or if just looks like nothing. I wonder if I’ll find out soon.
Somewhere far away, death shrieks scarlet overhead. Ships with roving eyes swarm the sky like an army of locusts. Bodies, whole and unwhole, strewn out one atop the other, left where they fell. Entire skyscrapers collapse like dominoes. News anchors weep, openly, if they’re on the air at all. My sister flicks restlessly through live streams, unable to pick which tragedy to behold.
We crowd my oldest sister’s phone, barely able to watch yet unable to look away.
She stops at the live press conference from the president. His voice is grave and hollow; he speaks to us from a dark room in some bunker somewhere. He says, “—at this point we have little hope. We will defend ourselves to the end, but tonight, please, stay inside, stay with your loved ones—”
My brother Aaron has his head between his knees. When we were kids he ran screaming after the cougar that took his puppy. (Aaron didn't catch it.) I never believed fear was an emotion he had. “Turn that shit off,” he gasps.
“Ignoring the aliens invading our fucking planet won’t make them go away,” Maya snaps but she switches to Facebook. Not that any of her friends would have time to post *oh shit I’m dying*, anyway.
Out here, under the unblinking stars, surrounded by a chorus of crickets and coyote, I can’t fathom what waits out there.
“Someone has to tell Papa,” Jackie murmurs. She is my twin, but you can’t tell. People always seem disappointed that there’s such a thing as non-identical twin sisters.
“You’ll just scare him.” Maya, the oldest, has always been the unofficial boss of all of us. She made it official when Dad started mistaking her for our mother and trying to scramble uncracked eggs.
“He deserves to know,” she insists.
“If they come here,” Maya says through her teeth, “we’re not getting a panicked old man into the truck without hurting someone, alright?” Her words hang frozen for a moment.
“Do you think they’ll come out here?” I whisper. I am the youngest by eight minutes, and I am good at the part.
“No,” says Jackie, quickly. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
Aaron pulls his beanie over his eyes. “I wouldn’t rule it out, Jack.”
Maya gasps into her fingers. “Oh, god, they’re in Spokane.”
Bile shoots up my throat. That’s barely a hundred miles from here. Not even a particularly large city. I wonder if they’re hunting us one by one. Like rabbits.
“Shit, is that Maddie’s—?” Aaron snatches the phone from her hands.
I lean over his shoulder to see.
My sister’s friend has pressed her phone lens to the window of her dorm room. In the background, she speaks in rapid, panicked whispers with her roommate.
Outside her window mortars plummet in blue and yellow streaks, big as bowling balls. I hear her cry, “Are they bombing us?” as the first one connects. It blooms soundlessly, a pale yellow locus, and then the power of it explodes outward.
It takes Maddie maybe six seconds to die. She has enough time to say, “I need to call my mom,” as the wall of smoke and debris rushes toward her like a sulfurous tsunami. The window shatters. The video goes black.
I don’t even realize what I’ve seen until Maya starts bawling into her hands.
A strange fire tingles in my palms, my belly. I feel the urge to move. To rise and fight.
“We have to do *something*,” I say.
Aaron looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Like what?”
My fingers dance against the leg of my jeans. I know I should be scared as hell, but something in me is restless. Hungry for something very old, and long-forgotten.
I stand up and face my siblings. I look them over carefully, in case this is the last time I see them. “We will not just watch.” I point at the house. “We won’t just let them kill everything and everyone and just stand here and *watch*.”
Just south of us, down beyond the hide of the mountain, the sky turns red with fire.
Tears stream down my brother’s cheek. “I can’t believe this is fucking it.”
I shake my head, insistently. Insanely. I don’t know why, but I can’t accept that this *is* it. That this is truly how we fall.
I ball my fists up at my sides. A furious heat snaps at the bars of my ribs, yearning to set on those who dared attack our home, of all places. Our dad, of all people.
I let the hate and heat fill me.
Flame chases down my forearm, over my knuckles. The white hot of anger. My fist is a coal and my flesh is carved from the mountain, and I will destroy anything that threatens the ones I love.
“Elektra,” my brother says, oddly calm, "why is your hand glowing?"
I look at my palm and grin. The fire finds my belly now. The chaos delights some new-awoken part of me that I had never known I possessed. It is like catching my reflection in an angle I have never seen before. I am myself, but different.
“I think...” I laugh, despite the clouds of smoke rising from town. It rises out of me like a bird. I have never felt smaller or stronger. “I think I did it on purpose.”
***
/r/shoringupfragments
~~Doing part 2 right now~~
update: I accidentally deleted what I was working on. I'm going to go angrily eat cupcakes and try again.
ETA: I fell asleep :( I will post part two in a couple of hours when I'm on my break. You can check here or my sub. Thank you so much for reading.
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Our first official contact with them was the day they descended like wasps onto every major metropolitan area and began sucking motherfuckers right off the street. I'm talking people being vacuumed straight up outta their loafers. at first it was a funny sight, but then the drones came down and scoured the entire earth.
They processed all but the finest specimen. I was among them , thank Xenu. There were about 1 million of us, they quarantined us in Las Vegas, or what once was Las Vegas.
It wasn't long before people started noticing strange happenings. Some claimed to have bent a spoon with their mind, others could share thoughts silently. As the days went on peoples abilities became undeniable.
This caught our overseers' eyes. They immediately conducted tests and operations on us, often to fatal results. But as the specimens dwindled our powers grew. We took note of this, but did our best to keep it under wraps.
Our shrinking mob had no hope, no leader, no organization, not even a common language, but perhaps these powers were our secret ace in the hole. A power shared by all mankind might be enough to do away with these tentacled bastards.
I myself had been vivisected twice by this point, among countless other ordeals and probes. Needless to say I had had enough. I was also, by that time, able to lift a car with my mind. Ever so slightly, mind you, I would focus all of my will on raising a car on the street just a few millimeters of the ground. so as not to garner suspicion from the eyes in the sky.
We all could feel the surge of power when one of our own succumbed to the brutal treatments those monsters put them through. Everyone could feel the power within them, but now it seemed only I was willing and able to use them.
The fact that I killed them all so easily is a testament to that. None of them had the power to defend themselves, and had resigned themselves to whatever fate these hentai monster looking sons a bitches had in store for them.
But I couldn't let Humanity go down like that, without a fight. I knew if I had the entirety of this power I alone could take them out. I didn't want to kill my own, but its better that it was one of us than one of them that did it.
I plucked several of their ships from the sky and plunged them into into the ocean. It was an amazing sight. So satisfying. I almost came. But then he came down from upon high and explained the truth of it all to me
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[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
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When it first showed up to our sensors, everyone thought it was just an interested asteroid. Sure, it was oblong, and one of the first we'd ever observed, but it was hardly anything special. People speculated that it was an alien ship, but no one really believed it.
That is, until it spontaneously reversed it's trajectory. One day, it was headed out of the solar system faster than any man made craft. The next, it was hurtling towards Earth with unnatural precision.
The impact alone wiped out Canada and part of the USA. Debris clouded the atmosphere, and the world went dark. It was few month before it began to spread.
It wasn't just a space rock or a ship. It was *alive*. And it was hungry. It spread like rot, sucking the life out of everything it touched. Concrete disintegrated, steel corroded to dust, and flames did nothing. Wherever it went, it spewed noxious, toxic gas. Scientists recognized it as a terraforming device. We called it the Plague.
People died in their homes, refusing to leave. People stuck in the traffic of evacuation found themselves trapped in a ring of the creeping rot. It seemed to seek out life, so that it could trap it and kill it. High altitude flight was impossible due to debris, and low altitude was incredibly dangerous, because the gas that permeated the atmosphere above the Plague was impossible to filter.
The human population steadily shrank, until the only free continent left was Australia. There were less than 10,000 of us when it happened. People began exhibiting strange power. Some could read minds. Others could teleport. Still others controlled the elements. I had the ability to fly. One thing that everyone had in common, however, was to share their energy with each other, from any distance, to boost one another's power.
Eventually, one man was found with the power to destroy the Plague.
His power was unique. It looked like raw energy, and it erased any Plague it came in contact with. He fired it from his hands as beams and blasts of blue or yellow light. Humanity immediately knew what they had to do.
I was one of a team sent with him, comprised of myself, two other fliers, a wind mage to clear the air, a telepath to communicate remotely, and the man himself. Our mission was to fly to the source of the Plague to destroy it once and for all.
The flight was short. In less than a day, we reached the origin. It was the only feature in a smooth, shiny black wasteland. A pillar of darkness, like a monument to humanities destruction.
At his command, the telepath broadcast his speech to the rest of humanity. I was the one flying him, and I'll never forget his words.
As he raised his arms above his head, he bellowed at the top of his lungs.
"PEOPLE OF EARTH! *LEND ME YOUR ENERGY*!"
Fukin' weebs.
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We do not know the exact year, since time has long been an abandoned concept. But we presume it to be around the 22nd century.
There is 500 of us left now.
500 humans, out of a world population that used to be over 7 billion. We were outnumbered and outgunned. It was total genocide of the human race itself.
What could've provided such unadulterated manslaughter, you ask?
Aliens.
First came the scouts, in their UFO's in the early 1990's. Satellite's and early photography gave us this weird disc shape that was flying in the sky, we thought them to be oddly angled airplanes. We were wrong.
Then came the army, or the "droves", as we like to call them, around 2050. The world was free of war for the first time in the life of country superpowers. Terrorists and acts caused by such were no longer a thing. The world finally got it's peace. That was when the aliens decided to strike. The time to eradicate the human race was when they were at their most peaceful.
Unlike a normal genocide, where prisoners were taken into concentration camps, there were no prisoners. Everyone and everything was destroyed on sight. At first the military all across the world gave a fighting chance. Everyone banded together for a common cause; to avoid human annihilation. But they kept coming. And coming. And coming. Not only were their weapons several ages more advanced than ours, but the mere numbers they had on us gave us no chance in hell.
When the world started collapsing, leaders of government banded together to create the 1st allied world leadership. They told us we had to start hiding underground, to avoid eradication. So we did, and we were able to live and survive for a few years before getting hunted again. This time, the end seemed inevitable. Until a bright light came cascading down from the sky and forced itself into all of the remaining humans, turning them into Angels of War. We call them Angels because they had wings made out of pure light, and shot out holy beams from their fingertips.
This was the turning point in humanity.
This was when we started winning the fight for good.
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[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
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At first, the aliens came in hordes. Wiped out everyone and everything they sensed a heart beat in. I lost my whole family within days, my father was the first to go protecting my older brother, then my mum protecting both of us. My brother and I were on the run for months until we got sloppy, stayed in the same place too long and he died protecting me. Somehow started a fire and took out 6 of those bastard aliens at once, made me proud to be related to him. That was 2 years ago, I’ve been alone ever since.
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The blood curdling screams of those found make it hard to sleep, the goosebumps that used to cover my skin everytime I heard that scream don’t appear anymore but the knowledge of what is happening to those screaming is a horror in its own. In an effort to drown out those screams I remind myself of the golden rule, move to a new spot every 3 days. When that doesn’t work I focus on my surroundings and close my eyes,I can almost see my surroundings identically in my head. I close my eyes and hope to get some rest for tonight, tomorrow is when I find a new spot.
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I jolt upright, I swear I heard a noise. Everything in the room I slept in has moved around, somethings been here. I get up slowly, crouch low and move around the house. Searching each and every room, i feel different. As if I feel that the room is empty before turning into it. Through my travels I’ve bumped into other people, traded items, bought weapons and been given food. I’ve also heard stories of survivors manifesting powers, magic even. The ability to summon storms or move water, throw fire or read minds. After determining the house is safe I sit down and close my eyes. I picture the house in my mind and focus as hard as I can. A blueprint like imagine appears in my mind, turning and growing, a 3D image replica of the layout. I can see myself sitting next to the tv, my mind zooms into the room in in. This is some crazy shit, I wonder what else I can do. I picture the tv next to me exploding and I focus as hard as I can.
BOOM.
“Kid! Kid! Wake up!”
Struggling, I wake up but keep my eyes closed. Fuck that was dumb, blowing up the tv right next to myself yeah, nice one idiot.
“Oh thank god he’s awake, he blew up a tv next to himself” I can see the young girl sitting next to me, another man pacing in the corner of the room and another, older female sitting down in a chair. I try to open my eyes and the searing pain becomes obvious in my left eye.
“Glass cut your eye pretty deep, hit the cornea and maybe sliced some nerves. I was only a nursing student so I’m not too sure” the girl says apologetically, I look at her with my right eye and ask her how she knew I blew the tv up, her mother tells me her daughter was a mute her whole life but a couple of months ago she talked for the first time, but it wasn’t with her mouth. It was with her mind. She’s telepathic. They tell me they’ve heard of a colony of people that are gaining powers in the north and that they are heading there, I’m welcome to go with them....
Part 2 if anyone wants it available
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We do not know the exact year, since time has long been an abandoned concept. But we presume it to be around the 22nd century.
There is 500 of us left now.
500 humans, out of a world population that used to be over 7 billion. We were outnumbered and outgunned. It was total genocide of the human race itself.
What could've provided such unadulterated manslaughter, you ask?
Aliens.
First came the scouts, in their UFO's in the early 1990's. Satellite's and early photography gave us this weird disc shape that was flying in the sky, we thought them to be oddly angled airplanes. We were wrong.
Then came the army, or the "droves", as we like to call them, around 2050. The world was free of war for the first time in the life of country superpowers. Terrorists and acts caused by such were no longer a thing. The world finally got it's peace. That was when the aliens decided to strike. The time to eradicate the human race was when they were at their most peaceful.
Unlike a normal genocide, where prisoners were taken into concentration camps, there were no prisoners. Everyone and everything was destroyed on sight. At first the military all across the world gave a fighting chance. Everyone banded together for a common cause; to avoid human annihilation. But they kept coming. And coming. And coming. Not only were their weapons several ages more advanced than ours, but the mere numbers they had on us gave us no chance in hell.
When the world started collapsing, leaders of government banded together to create the 1st allied world leadership. They told us we had to start hiding underground, to avoid eradication. So we did, and we were able to live and survive for a few years before getting hunted again. This time, the end seemed inevitable. Until a bright light came cascading down from the sky and forced itself into all of the remaining humans, turning them into Angels of War. We call them Angels because they had wings made out of pure light, and shot out holy beams from their fingertips.
This was the turning point in humanity.
This was when we started winning the fight for good.
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
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Bruce stood against the wall, his whole body shaking with fear. Glaring at the creatures with hate filled eyes, he knew his end was near. The Wub had lined up 10 people along a wall execution style, ready to slauter and rid the earth of the human pest. Bruce had a welling feeling in his gut, could this be the powers the people were talking about? The Wub troopers aimed there weapons for the final part of the execution. Bruce couldn't hold it any longer, it was happening and he knew it. Gas filled the street with a toxic purple and yellow haze. The prisoners survived and had only one side effect, the putred smell of sulfer. Bruce looked at the back of his jeans. A giant hole on his butt. " Dear God I'm going to die from that smell, I'm scared for life now" spoke the young girl next to Bruce. His power was growing stronger again, or was it all those chalupas he ate yesterday night? Either way it was time to move. Bruce ran down the street, his pants flayling behind him in the wind.
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We do not know the exact year, since time has long been an abandoned concept. But we presume it to be around the 22nd century.
There is 500 of us left now.
500 humans, out of a world population that used to be over 7 billion. We were outnumbered and outgunned. It was total genocide of the human race itself.
What could've provided such unadulterated manslaughter, you ask?
Aliens.
First came the scouts, in their UFO's in the early 1990's. Satellite's and early photography gave us this weird disc shape that was flying in the sky, we thought them to be oddly angled airplanes. We were wrong.
Then came the army, or the "droves", as we like to call them, around 2050. The world was free of war for the first time in the life of country superpowers. Terrorists and acts caused by such were no longer a thing. The world finally got it's peace. That was when the aliens decided to strike. The time to eradicate the human race was when they were at their most peaceful.
Unlike a normal genocide, where prisoners were taken into concentration camps, there were no prisoners. Everyone and everything was destroyed on sight. At first the military all across the world gave a fighting chance. Everyone banded together for a common cause; to avoid human annihilation. But they kept coming. And coming. And coming. Not only were their weapons several ages more advanced than ours, but the mere numbers they had on us gave us no chance in hell.
When the world started collapsing, leaders of government banded together to create the 1st allied world leadership. They told us we had to start hiding underground, to avoid eradication. So we did, and we were able to live and survive for a few years before getting hunted again. This time, the end seemed inevitable. Until a bright light came cascading down from the sky and forced itself into all of the remaining humans, turning them into Angels of War. We call them Angels because they had wings made out of pure light, and shot out holy beams from their fingertips.
This was the turning point in humanity.
This was when we started winning the fight for good.
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
Waking up it felt as if i was on fire, like electricity was burning my soul away. Piece by piece it was being ripped away in time with the rhythm of my heart. As soon as i felt that i could not go on something resonated with my mind. All of a sudden that burning was replaced with a tempered heat as if my soul itself was being reborn within those fires.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As i laid there for the next couple minutes it felt as my body was rebooting itself, my senses slowly turning back on. The first thing i noticed was the smell of smoke all around me. Struggling at first, i pushed myself off the ground to try to find the source of the smell. Walking closer to my front door the smell increased in intensity as i neared. As I opened the door i felt a rush of hot air to meet me. Outside the embers of the world that i once knew danced upon the wind like the stars in the skies. The city i had grown up in was on fire, blazing like the gods themselves dropped hell fire upon the world. Suddenly there was a massive explosion and i felt a new way of heat as i was forced to close my eyes against the light. As i the light subsided i traced the sound to the rend that part of the city once occupied.
Looking up from the destruction my heart stop, on the horizon a colossus of a ship had teardrops falling on to the ground that the city once laid. Ice filled within my gut as i gazed upon the damage that the ship had brought. Dread gripping my heart i could only think of one thing, escape.
------------------------------
After that night i began to question myself, what right do i have to live with all those that surely were lost within the eradication of the city. Why was i still alive while all those people were dead. After a few more days i began to hears whispers as the tempered heat came back to me filling me with someone. I did not know what was happening but those whispers started to cooing me into comfort. They whispered that what happened to those in the city was not my fault and that nothing i could've done could've changed what took place there. This soothed my worries some but i kept feeling i there was something that i had to do.
---------------------------------------
A week later i was stopping at a river to drink, i do not know which one anymore as i had lost all form of direction due to my hunger which was a constant pain for me. After finishing i sat on the river bank staring into the water. This was becoming increasing common lately. I do not know if it was the lack of food or the shock of destructed all those days ago but as i stared into those waters the whispers that had been my constant companion began to grow louder and louder. With there musings i began to lose myself in their words, drifting in and out of myself. As i regained myself i felt a cool blanket wrapped around myself. As if nature itself embraced me the sight around me breathtaking. Lilies sprouted around a red maple tree that wrapped around me as if to comfort me. The whispers did not silence as they once did before. Now they murmur in a chorus that clearly rang through me. The warmth that always felt now began to bubble as they spoke. "Through our sacrifice you preserve us." With that the heat within me began to rapidly cool within me, hardening into steel. I knew what i must do in that moment. Without though i heard the words "Retentat ligni vitae, e pluribus unum" come to my mouth. With that i took off, back to the ruined city.
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We do not know the exact year, since time has long been an abandoned concept. But we presume it to be around the 22nd century.
There is 500 of us left now.
500 humans, out of a world population that used to be over 7 billion. We were outnumbered and outgunned. It was total genocide of the human race itself.
What could've provided such unadulterated manslaughter, you ask?
Aliens.
First came the scouts, in their UFO's in the early 1990's. Satellite's and early photography gave us this weird disc shape that was flying in the sky, we thought them to be oddly angled airplanes. We were wrong.
Then came the army, or the "droves", as we like to call them, around 2050. The world was free of war for the first time in the life of country superpowers. Terrorists and acts caused by such were no longer a thing. The world finally got it's peace. That was when the aliens decided to strike. The time to eradicate the human race was when they were at their most peaceful.
Unlike a normal genocide, where prisoners were taken into concentration camps, there were no prisoners. Everyone and everything was destroyed on sight. At first the military all across the world gave a fighting chance. Everyone banded together for a common cause; to avoid human annihilation. But they kept coming. And coming. And coming. Not only were their weapons several ages more advanced than ours, but the mere numbers they had on us gave us no chance in hell.
When the world started collapsing, leaders of government banded together to create the 1st allied world leadership. They told us we had to start hiding underground, to avoid eradication. So we did, and we were able to live and survive for a few years before getting hunted again. This time, the end seemed inevitable. Until a bright light came cascading down from the sky and forced itself into all of the remaining humans, turning them into Angels of War. We call them Angels because they had wings made out of pure light, and shot out holy beams from their fingertips.
This was the turning point in humanity.
This was when we started winning the fight for good.
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
First contact was made almost ten years ago. They seemed well versed in warfare, in less than a day there wasn't a satellite left in the sky or a cable under the sea. Communication between nations fell to old ground bounce long range radios pulled out of mothballs. Conventional weapons proved to be ineffective and the nuclear option didn't fare much better. Eventually even the old analog radios where jammed. Steadily they started to wipe us out. Great mechanized beasts roamed the land, directed energy weapons reduced any caught in there sight to ash.
Slowly word began to spread of old legends come to light. Wizards, witches even warlocks making pacts with demons to gain power. Men and women alike where seen calling fourth searing bolts of lighting from the sky. Ripping the ground open to devour and crush any of the aliens creations that wandered to close to the last bastions of humanity. Liquefying the great metal monsters with conjured fire. Even death was no relief to our fallen comrades as the necromancers raised forth gargantuan armies of the dead. Crushing the invaders with the sheer mass of rotting meat and gleaming bone. As our species continued to fight for our existence more of the things that go bump in the night started coming to light.
At first they appeared to be fellow humans but it soon became clear that was not the case. The first were the Werewolves, nigh unkillable but by blessed silver. Transforming into great beasts they used claws and teeth to rend through armor only magic could penetrate. These furry juggernauts relied on humans not for food as in the old tales but as breeding stock. As we continued to dwindle in number they could no longer stalk the shadows. Though small in numbers they made up for it in shear brutality. Soon all of the others concealed in the shadows made themselves known. The vampires where less well received than the wolves but in the end they needed us. Becoming a donor for one elevated ones physically abilities for a time. Though to somes disappointment, crosses, sunlight and garlic did not faze them.
The Fae became another ally though much less trustful, one had to be cautious when speaking with them. Never make an open ended bargain with one, it never ends in your favor. Whatever the invaders mechanized army consisted of it was not iron and they seemed to take much glee in the wanton destruction they could wield. Many hopped the elves and dwarves of some fairy tales would come to be but to this day none have materialized. Though the dragons made there presence known they more are focused on what little territory they still held and if you happen to occupy it you have one hell of a home security system. Rumblings of the old gods walking among man once more have been heard but not verified.
As of now hope has yet to completely die for humanity and its newly rediscovered allies. While the dragons and invaders still rule the skies we have done much to retake the land. The current status of humanity as a whole is still not truly known, while magic is useful as a weapons it does not give it self over willingly to be used to pass missives. Communication over the oceans and across continents is still a slow process and we are just starting to retake the seas.
-Field Commander, 3rd Magus Division, Capt Jasper D. Wulf
|
We do not know the exact year, since time has long been an abandoned concept. But we presume it to be around the 22nd century.
There is 500 of us left now.
500 humans, out of a world population that used to be over 7 billion. We were outnumbered and outgunned. It was total genocide of the human race itself.
What could've provided such unadulterated manslaughter, you ask?
Aliens.
First came the scouts, in their UFO's in the early 1990's. Satellite's and early photography gave us this weird disc shape that was flying in the sky, we thought them to be oddly angled airplanes. We were wrong.
Then came the army, or the "droves", as we like to call them, around 2050. The world was free of war for the first time in the life of country superpowers. Terrorists and acts caused by such were no longer a thing. The world finally got it's peace. That was when the aliens decided to strike. The time to eradicate the human race was when they were at their most peaceful.
Unlike a normal genocide, where prisoners were taken into concentration camps, there were no prisoners. Everyone and everything was destroyed on sight. At first the military all across the world gave a fighting chance. Everyone banded together for a common cause; to avoid human annihilation. But they kept coming. And coming. And coming. Not only were their weapons several ages more advanced than ours, but the mere numbers they had on us gave us no chance in hell.
When the world started collapsing, leaders of government banded together to create the 1st allied world leadership. They told us we had to start hiding underground, to avoid eradication. So we did, and we were able to live and survive for a few years before getting hunted again. This time, the end seemed inevitable. Until a bright light came cascading down from the sky and forced itself into all of the remaining humans, turning them into Angels of War. We call them Angels because they had wings made out of pure light, and shot out holy beams from their fingertips.
This was the turning point in humanity.
This was when we started winning the fight for good.
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
I awoke in the night, the distant sounds of screams altogether too familiar. It didn't sound isolated - they must have found a safe-haven. Hundreds would be massacred. It was just like I said; don't bunch together. Don't rely on each other for support. Survival is all about laying low, keeping quiet and hoping that luck was on your side.
I'd been having a strange dream. It wasn't a nightmare, which was rare already; it was more of a premonition. I'd felt a burning sensation in my hand, as if there were energy coursing through it. The feeling still stuck with me, and I focused on it to try drown out the screams.
********
There were more of them now; towering beasts, eldritch monstrosities. We'd imagined aliens as these advanced beings, visiting us with technology that we could not even comprehend, bestowing knowledge and gifts. But no.
They were unimaginable nightmares, drifting in through space, landing on our forsaken planet and hunting us mercilessly. Our combined efforts only took down a few, and the ensuing nuclear winter only made things worse. And now they hunt us down without rest. It doesn't seem to be for sustenance - they ignore other animals, though they will harm them if it is in their way. No; it feels like eradication. And more come every day.
But the the dreams won't go away. What little sleep I have is filled with feelings of flame and fury; of ominous premonition, of terrifying power. I feel that energy more and more. I suspect that I am going mad, but I'd rather be mad than dead. And judging by my travels, it seems that I am one of the few left with the privilege of choice.
Sleep comes to me eventually, the incessant chittering of the aliens filtering through my dreams of intrigue, of primal power.
*****
I awoke to a sound of crashing, of beastly lumbering.
*I've been found.*
I sprinted from my lair, a crumbling ruin, just as a jagged tentacle pierced through the foundations. Rubble collapsed around me as I leapt through a window, landing on the floor below in a clumsy roll. There was no time to think about the pain - only escape.
I ran as fast as I could, praying that it was only one, praying that it could not keep up. There were many different forms of alien, and most of the massive ones were slow in the city. They could run at least as fast as a man, but the buildings and ruins proved ample obstacles. With a bit of luck, I could survive this. I had done so before.
A sudden crash to my right sent glass flying just ahead of me. An arthropod the size of a large dog landed in front of me, its razor-sharp legs digging into the floor. There was no chance of running from it. But if I climbed the building to avoid it, my pursuer would destroy it as if it was a cardboard box. I had two choices, but either led to death.
My right hand burned, a sharp red glow emitting from my palm. It felt like trapped electricity. Like every bit of primal power focused into a single thought.
A choice:
Shall I **fight**, or **flee**?
****
[Part II](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7i4fn8/wp_resurge_ii/) | [Part III](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7i4p1p/wp_resurgence_iii/) | [Part IV (new)](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/comments/7i65tc/wp_resurgence_iv/)
It's a 'Choose Your Own Adventure' story! Vote on whichever choice you like best, and I hope I won't disappoint :)
/r/CroatianSpy
|
We do not know the exact year, since time has long been an abandoned concept. But we presume it to be around the 22nd century.
There is 500 of us left now.
500 humans, out of a world population that used to be over 7 billion. We were outnumbered and outgunned. It was total genocide of the human race itself.
What could've provided such unadulterated manslaughter, you ask?
Aliens.
First came the scouts, in their UFO's in the early 1990's. Satellite's and early photography gave us this weird disc shape that was flying in the sky, we thought them to be oddly angled airplanes. We were wrong.
Then came the army, or the "droves", as we like to call them, around 2050. The world was free of war for the first time in the life of country superpowers. Terrorists and acts caused by such were no longer a thing. The world finally got it's peace. That was when the aliens decided to strike. The time to eradicate the human race was when they were at their most peaceful.
Unlike a normal genocide, where prisoners were taken into concentration camps, there were no prisoners. Everyone and everything was destroyed on sight. At first the military all across the world gave a fighting chance. Everyone banded together for a common cause; to avoid human annihilation. But they kept coming. And coming. And coming. Not only were their weapons several ages more advanced than ours, but the mere numbers they had on us gave us no chance in hell.
When the world started collapsing, leaders of government banded together to create the 1st allied world leadership. They told us we had to start hiding underground, to avoid eradication. So we did, and we were able to live and survive for a few years before getting hunted again. This time, the end seemed inevitable. Until a bright light came cascading down from the sky and forced itself into all of the remaining humans, turning them into Angels of War. We call them Angels because they had wings made out of pure light, and shot out holy beams from their fingertips.
This was the turning point in humanity.
This was when we started winning the fight for good.
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
All us helpless billions watch on our little glowing rectangles as our fellow humans die in droves. They fall screaming, choking, burning. The internet’s bad in the house, so we hunker on the steps of the chicken coop to see it.
Together we watch the end of the world. Our breath clouds and storms around us. But we do not notice the cold. Our hearts and bones are lead.
My siblings don’t make a sound. I look between the three of them and the black, faultless sky. I wonder if the afterlife looks like night, or if just looks like nothing. I wonder if I’ll find out soon.
Somewhere far away, death shrieks scarlet overhead. Ships with roving eyes swarm the sky like an army of locusts. Bodies, whole and unwhole, strewn out one atop the other, left where they fell. Entire skyscrapers collapse like dominoes. News anchors weep, openly, if they’re on the air at all. My sister flicks restlessly through live streams, unable to pick which tragedy to behold.
We crowd my oldest sister’s phone, barely able to watch yet unable to look away.
She stops at the live press conference from the president. His voice is grave and hollow; he speaks to us from a dark room in some bunker somewhere. He says, “—at this point we have little hope. We will defend ourselves to the end, but tonight, please, stay inside, stay with your loved ones—”
My brother Aaron has his head between his knees. When we were kids he ran screaming after the cougar that took his puppy. (Aaron didn't catch it.) I never believed fear was an emotion he had. “Turn that shit off,” he gasps.
“Ignoring the aliens invading our fucking planet won’t make them go away,” Maya snaps but she switches to Facebook. Not that any of her friends would have time to post *oh shit I’m dying*, anyway.
Out here, under the unblinking stars, surrounded by a chorus of crickets and coyote, I can’t fathom what waits out there.
“Someone has to tell Papa,” Jackie murmurs. She is my twin, but you can’t tell. People always seem disappointed that there’s such a thing as non-identical twin sisters.
“You’ll just scare him.” Maya, the oldest, has always been the unofficial boss of all of us. She made it official when Dad started mistaking her for our mother and trying to scramble uncracked eggs.
“He deserves to know,” she insists.
“If they come here,” Maya says through her teeth, “we’re not getting a panicked old man into the truck without hurting someone, alright?” Her words hang frozen for a moment.
“Do you think they’ll come out here?” I whisper. I am the youngest by eight minutes, and I am good at the part.
“No,” says Jackie, quickly. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
Aaron pulls his beanie over his eyes. “I wouldn’t rule it out, Jack.”
Maya gasps into her fingers. “Oh, god, they’re in Spokane.”
Bile shoots up my throat. That’s barely a hundred miles from here. Not even a particularly large city. I wonder if they’re hunting us one by one. Like rabbits.
“Shit, is that Maddie’s—?” Aaron snatches the phone from her hands.
I lean over his shoulder to see.
My sister’s friend has pressed her phone lens to the window of her dorm room. In the background, she speaks in rapid, panicked whispers with her roommate.
Outside her window mortars plummet in blue and yellow streaks, big as bowling balls. I hear her cry, “Are they bombing us?” as the first one connects. It blooms soundlessly, a pale yellow locus, and then the power of it explodes outward.
It takes Maddie maybe six seconds to die. She has enough time to say, “I need to call my mom,” as the wall of smoke and debris rushes toward her like a sulfurous tsunami. The window shatters. The video goes black.
I don’t even realize what I’ve seen until Maya starts bawling into her hands.
A strange fire tingles in my palms, my belly. I feel the urge to move. To rise and fight.
“We have to do *something*,” I say.
Aaron looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Like what?”
My fingers dance against the leg of my jeans. I know I should be scared as hell, but something in me is restless. Hungry for something very old, and long-forgotten.
I stand up and face my siblings. I look them over carefully, in case this is the last time I see them. “We will not just watch.” I point at the house. “We won’t just let them kill everything and everyone and just stand here and *watch*.”
Just south of us, down beyond the hide of the mountain, the sky turns red with fire.
Tears stream down my brother’s cheek. “I can’t believe this is fucking it.”
I shake my head, insistently. Insanely. I don’t know why, but I can’t accept that this *is* it. That this is truly how we fall.
I ball my fists up at my sides. A furious heat snaps at the bars of my ribs, yearning to set on those who dared attack our home, of all places. Our dad, of all people.
I let the hate and heat fill me.
Flame chases down my forearm, over my knuckles. The white hot of anger. My fist is a coal and my flesh is carved from the mountain, and I will destroy anything that threatens the ones I love.
“Elektra,” my brother says, oddly calm, "why is your hand glowing?"
I look at my palm and grin. The fire finds my belly now. The chaos delights some new-awoken part of me that I had never known I possessed. It is like catching my reflection in an angle I have never seen before. I am myself, but different.
“I think...” I laugh, despite the clouds of smoke rising from town. It rises out of me like a bird. I have never felt smaller or stronger. “I think I did it on purpose.”
***
/r/shoringupfragments
~~Doing part 2 right now~~
update: I accidentally deleted what I was working on. I'm going to go angrily eat cupcakes and try again.
ETA: I fell asleep :( I will post part two in a couple of hours when I'm on my break. You can check here or my sub. Thank you so much for reading.
|
We do not know the exact year, since time has long been an abandoned concept. But we presume it to be around the 22nd century.
There is 500 of us left now.
500 humans, out of a world population that used to be over 7 billion. We were outnumbered and outgunned. It was total genocide of the human race itself.
What could've provided such unadulterated manslaughter, you ask?
Aliens.
First came the scouts, in their UFO's in the early 1990's. Satellite's and early photography gave us this weird disc shape that was flying in the sky, we thought them to be oddly angled airplanes. We were wrong.
Then came the army, or the "droves", as we like to call them, around 2050. The world was free of war for the first time in the life of country superpowers. Terrorists and acts caused by such were no longer a thing. The world finally got it's peace. That was when the aliens decided to strike. The time to eradicate the human race was when they were at their most peaceful.
Unlike a normal genocide, where prisoners were taken into concentration camps, there were no prisoners. Everyone and everything was destroyed on sight. At first the military all across the world gave a fighting chance. Everyone banded together for a common cause; to avoid human annihilation. But they kept coming. And coming. And coming. Not only were their weapons several ages more advanced than ours, but the mere numbers they had on us gave us no chance in hell.
When the world started collapsing, leaders of government banded together to create the 1st allied world leadership. They told us we had to start hiding underground, to avoid eradication. So we did, and we were able to live and survive for a few years before getting hunted again. This time, the end seemed inevitable. Until a bright light came cascading down from the sky and forced itself into all of the remaining humans, turning them into Angels of War. We call them Angels because they had wings made out of pure light, and shot out holy beams from their fingertips.
This was the turning point in humanity.
This was when we started winning the fight for good.
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
When it first showed up to our sensors, everyone thought it was just an interested asteroid. Sure, it was oblong, and one of the first we'd ever observed, but it was hardly anything special. People speculated that it was an alien ship, but no one really believed it.
That is, until it spontaneously reversed it's trajectory. One day, it was headed out of the solar system faster than any man made craft. The next, it was hurtling towards Earth with unnatural precision.
The impact alone wiped out Canada and part of the USA. Debris clouded the atmosphere, and the world went dark. It was few month before it began to spread.
It wasn't just a space rock or a ship. It was *alive*. And it was hungry. It spread like rot, sucking the life out of everything it touched. Concrete disintegrated, steel corroded to dust, and flames did nothing. Wherever it went, it spewed noxious, toxic gas. Scientists recognized it as a terraforming device. We called it the Plague.
People died in their homes, refusing to leave. People stuck in the traffic of evacuation found themselves trapped in a ring of the creeping rot. It seemed to seek out life, so that it could trap it and kill it. High altitude flight was impossible due to debris, and low altitude was incredibly dangerous, because the gas that permeated the atmosphere above the Plague was impossible to filter.
The human population steadily shrank, until the only free continent left was Australia. There were less than 10,000 of us when it happened. People began exhibiting strange power. Some could read minds. Others could teleport. Still others controlled the elements. I had the ability to fly. One thing that everyone had in common, however, was to share their energy with each other, from any distance, to boost one another's power.
Eventually, one man was found with the power to destroy the Plague.
His power was unique. It looked like raw energy, and it erased any Plague it came in contact with. He fired it from his hands as beams and blasts of blue or yellow light. Humanity immediately knew what they had to do.
I was one of a team sent with him, comprised of myself, two other fliers, a wind mage to clear the air, a telepath to communicate remotely, and the man himself. Our mission was to fly to the source of the Plague to destroy it once and for all.
The flight was short. In less than a day, we reached the origin. It was the only feature in a smooth, shiny black wasteland. A pillar of darkness, like a monument to humanities destruction.
At his command, the telepath broadcast his speech to the rest of humanity. I was the one flying him, and I'll never forget his words.
As he raised his arms above his head, he bellowed at the top of his lungs.
"PEOPLE OF EARTH! *LEND ME YOUR ENERGY*!"
Fukin' weebs.
|
_This is my first short story. Please be kind. Feedback is highly welcome. :)_
----
Marcus stood there. The smell of the burnt remains of his civilization made it nearly impossible to breath. People, animals, cars, buildings. Absolutely nothing was spared by these creatures that arrived some days ago, out of space. Before trying to kill anyone they started to destroy the infrastructure. Internet, power plants, water supplies and fuel depots burned down before the people started to realize what was going on. And then they became the target.
Now, on the 7th of August 2018 Marcus was one of the few survivors that were able to flee or hide in underground bunkers. Nobody knew how many actually survived but Marcus was all alone with his dad, his little sister and his girlfriend. The three only got through the inferno by hiding in the small bunker his dad was building for decades. He told anyone that they were coming one day. “It’s written down, everything, in here!” he said now and then while pointing on a weird old book he got from his grandfather from Germany. It was such kind of book you may expect to see in fantasy of medieval themed movies. Written in Latin and with a lot of weird pictures of creatures, animals, the devil and so on. Marcus was interested in the book and his contents but learning new languages was never one of his strengths. Shortly after the alien attacks his dad went crazy, telling Marcus that his time finally came.
A walnut-sized blue, shiny ball, half transparent and looking like a large drop of water hovered in Marcus’ right hand while he was watching the huge alien spaceship heading in his direction. He was calm. He felt more calm, stronger and self-confident than ever before. After a short glimpse at that blue ball in his hand his view turned to the right where his dad and his sister stood. Both were fixed on the spaceship. Both had this expression on their faces that could be literally translated to “Payback time, assholes!” Marcus took a look to his left, to his girlfriend Mina. He smiled at her as she turned her face towards him. She smiled back. Time slowed down. Space and time seemed to bend around the four, standing on that small hill. Marcus turned back to the spaceship, took a deep breath, raised his spread right hand above his head like the other three did and all four shouted the same weird sentence. “Ne quid in rerum natura mater opus”. Let mother nature do her work. And so she did.
The blue ball in Marcus’ hand became bigger, like the size of a baseball, then a basket ball. Mina’s dark brown ball, looking like a pile of dirt did the same. His father held a ball of lava and his sister was surrounded by a small cloud. The four elements. Earth, Water, Fire and Air. Mother Nature was alive and the mana running trough the bodies of the four was able to call her powers. Like it was written in the book. Magic. And this magic now turned against the foreign enemies.
The four balls began to pulse. Slow, then faster, before glaring strings rose up to the clouds, where the four elements merged and became one, a thick white string, winding like a weak tree in a heavy storm. Just a second later Marcus was hit hard by something that felt like a shock wave, throwing him off his feet and knocking him out.
A cough, then light. Marcus opened his eyes. The clear sky and the bright sun were blinding him. His dad held his head, asking him if he was okay. After some seconds Marcus realized that fresh smell of grass and the slight breeze around him. “Is that a bird singing?” asked Marcus. His dad laughed. Mina kneed besides Marcus, with a lovingly smile on her face. “We did it honey. We did it.”
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
At first, the aliens came in hordes. Wiped out everyone and everything they sensed a heart beat in. I lost my whole family within days, my father was the first to go protecting my older brother, then my mum protecting both of us. My brother and I were on the run for months until we got sloppy, stayed in the same place too long and he died protecting me. Somehow started a fire and took out 6 of those bastard aliens at once, made me proud to be related to him. That was 2 years ago, I’ve been alone ever since.
.
The blood curdling screams of those found make it hard to sleep, the goosebumps that used to cover my skin everytime I heard that scream don’t appear anymore but the knowledge of what is happening to those screaming is a horror in its own. In an effort to drown out those screams I remind myself of the golden rule, move to a new spot every 3 days. When that doesn’t work I focus on my surroundings and close my eyes,I can almost see my surroundings identically in my head. I close my eyes and hope to get some rest for tonight, tomorrow is when I find a new spot.
.
I jolt upright, I swear I heard a noise. Everything in the room I slept in has moved around, somethings been here. I get up slowly, crouch low and move around the house. Searching each and every room, i feel different. As if I feel that the room is empty before turning into it. Through my travels I’ve bumped into other people, traded items, bought weapons and been given food. I’ve also heard stories of survivors manifesting powers, magic even. The ability to summon storms or move water, throw fire or read minds. After determining the house is safe I sit down and close my eyes. I picture the house in my mind and focus as hard as I can. A blueprint like imagine appears in my mind, turning and growing, a 3D image replica of the layout. I can see myself sitting next to the tv, my mind zooms into the room in in. This is some crazy shit, I wonder what else I can do. I picture the tv next to me exploding and I focus as hard as I can.
BOOM.
“Kid! Kid! Wake up!”
Struggling, I wake up but keep my eyes closed. Fuck that was dumb, blowing up the tv right next to myself yeah, nice one idiot.
“Oh thank god he’s awake, he blew up a tv next to himself” I can see the young girl sitting next to me, another man pacing in the corner of the room and another, older female sitting down in a chair. I try to open my eyes and the searing pain becomes obvious in my left eye.
“Glass cut your eye pretty deep, hit the cornea and maybe sliced some nerves. I was only a nursing student so I’m not too sure” the girl says apologetically, I look at her with my right eye and ask her how she knew I blew the tv up, her mother tells me her daughter was a mute her whole life but a couple of months ago she talked for the first time, but it wasn’t with her mouth. It was with her mind. She’s telepathic. They tell me they’ve heard of a colony of people that are gaining powers in the north and that they are heading there, I’m welcome to go with them....
Part 2 if anyone wants it available
|
_This is my first short story. Please be kind. Feedback is highly welcome. :)_
----
Marcus stood there. The smell of the burnt remains of his civilization made it nearly impossible to breath. People, animals, cars, buildings. Absolutely nothing was spared by these creatures that arrived some days ago, out of space. Before trying to kill anyone they started to destroy the infrastructure. Internet, power plants, water supplies and fuel depots burned down before the people started to realize what was going on. And then they became the target.
Now, on the 7th of August 2018 Marcus was one of the few survivors that were able to flee or hide in underground bunkers. Nobody knew how many actually survived but Marcus was all alone with his dad, his little sister and his girlfriend. The three only got through the inferno by hiding in the small bunker his dad was building for decades. He told anyone that they were coming one day. “It’s written down, everything, in here!” he said now and then while pointing on a weird old book he got from his grandfather from Germany. It was such kind of book you may expect to see in fantasy of medieval themed movies. Written in Latin and with a lot of weird pictures of creatures, animals, the devil and so on. Marcus was interested in the book and his contents but learning new languages was never one of his strengths. Shortly after the alien attacks his dad went crazy, telling Marcus that his time finally came.
A walnut-sized blue, shiny ball, half transparent and looking like a large drop of water hovered in Marcus’ right hand while he was watching the huge alien spaceship heading in his direction. He was calm. He felt more calm, stronger and self-confident than ever before. After a short glimpse at that blue ball in his hand his view turned to the right where his dad and his sister stood. Both were fixed on the spaceship. Both had this expression on their faces that could be literally translated to “Payback time, assholes!” Marcus took a look to his left, to his girlfriend Mina. He smiled at her as she turned her face towards him. She smiled back. Time slowed down. Space and time seemed to bend around the four, standing on that small hill. Marcus turned back to the spaceship, took a deep breath, raised his spread right hand above his head like the other three did and all four shouted the same weird sentence. “Ne quid in rerum natura mater opus”. Let mother nature do her work. And so she did.
The blue ball in Marcus’ hand became bigger, like the size of a baseball, then a basket ball. Mina’s dark brown ball, looking like a pile of dirt did the same. His father held a ball of lava and his sister was surrounded by a small cloud. The four elements. Earth, Water, Fire and Air. Mother Nature was alive and the mana running trough the bodies of the four was able to call her powers. Like it was written in the book. Magic. And this magic now turned against the foreign enemies.
The four balls began to pulse. Slow, then faster, before glaring strings rose up to the clouds, where the four elements merged and became one, a thick white string, winding like a weak tree in a heavy storm. Just a second later Marcus was hit hard by something that felt like a shock wave, throwing him off his feet and knocking him out.
A cough, then light. Marcus opened his eyes. The clear sky and the bright sun were blinding him. His dad held his head, asking him if he was okay. After some seconds Marcus realized that fresh smell of grass and the slight breeze around him. “Is that a bird singing?” asked Marcus. His dad laughed. Mina kneed besides Marcus, with a lovingly smile on her face. “We did it honey. We did it.”
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
Bruce stood against the wall, his whole body shaking with fear. Glaring at the creatures with hate filled eyes, he knew his end was near. The Wub had lined up 10 people along a wall execution style, ready to slauter and rid the earth of the human pest. Bruce had a welling feeling in his gut, could this be the powers the people were talking about? The Wub troopers aimed there weapons for the final part of the execution. Bruce couldn't hold it any longer, it was happening and he knew it. Gas filled the street with a toxic purple and yellow haze. The prisoners survived and had only one side effect, the putred smell of sulfer. Bruce looked at the back of his jeans. A giant hole on his butt. " Dear God I'm going to die from that smell, I'm scared for life now" spoke the young girl next to Bruce. His power was growing stronger again, or was it all those chalupas he ate yesterday night? Either way it was time to move. Bruce ran down the street, his pants flayling behind him in the wind.
|
_This is my first short story. Please be kind. Feedback is highly welcome. :)_
----
Marcus stood there. The smell of the burnt remains of his civilization made it nearly impossible to breath. People, animals, cars, buildings. Absolutely nothing was spared by these creatures that arrived some days ago, out of space. Before trying to kill anyone they started to destroy the infrastructure. Internet, power plants, water supplies and fuel depots burned down before the people started to realize what was going on. And then they became the target.
Now, on the 7th of August 2018 Marcus was one of the few survivors that were able to flee or hide in underground bunkers. Nobody knew how many actually survived but Marcus was all alone with his dad, his little sister and his girlfriend. The three only got through the inferno by hiding in the small bunker his dad was building for decades. He told anyone that they were coming one day. “It’s written down, everything, in here!” he said now and then while pointing on a weird old book he got from his grandfather from Germany. It was such kind of book you may expect to see in fantasy of medieval themed movies. Written in Latin and with a lot of weird pictures of creatures, animals, the devil and so on. Marcus was interested in the book and his contents but learning new languages was never one of his strengths. Shortly after the alien attacks his dad went crazy, telling Marcus that his time finally came.
A walnut-sized blue, shiny ball, half transparent and looking like a large drop of water hovered in Marcus’ right hand while he was watching the huge alien spaceship heading in his direction. He was calm. He felt more calm, stronger and self-confident than ever before. After a short glimpse at that blue ball in his hand his view turned to the right where his dad and his sister stood. Both were fixed on the spaceship. Both had this expression on their faces that could be literally translated to “Payback time, assholes!” Marcus took a look to his left, to his girlfriend Mina. He smiled at her as she turned her face towards him. She smiled back. Time slowed down. Space and time seemed to bend around the four, standing on that small hill. Marcus turned back to the spaceship, took a deep breath, raised his spread right hand above his head like the other three did and all four shouted the same weird sentence. “Ne quid in rerum natura mater opus”. Let mother nature do her work. And so she did.
The blue ball in Marcus’ hand became bigger, like the size of a baseball, then a basket ball. Mina’s dark brown ball, looking like a pile of dirt did the same. His father held a ball of lava and his sister was surrounded by a small cloud. The four elements. Earth, Water, Fire and Air. Mother Nature was alive and the mana running trough the bodies of the four was able to call her powers. Like it was written in the book. Magic. And this magic now turned against the foreign enemies.
The four balls began to pulse. Slow, then faster, before glaring strings rose up to the clouds, where the four elements merged and became one, a thick white string, winding like a weak tree in a heavy storm. Just a second later Marcus was hit hard by something that felt like a shock wave, throwing him off his feet and knocking him out.
A cough, then light. Marcus opened his eyes. The clear sky and the bright sun were blinding him. His dad held his head, asking him if he was okay. After some seconds Marcus realized that fresh smell of grass and the slight breeze around him. “Is that a bird singing?” asked Marcus. His dad laughed. Mina kneed besides Marcus, with a lovingly smile on her face. “We did it honey. We did it.”
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
Waking up it felt as if i was on fire, like electricity was burning my soul away. Piece by piece it was being ripped away in time with the rhythm of my heart. As soon as i felt that i could not go on something resonated with my mind. All of a sudden that burning was replaced with a tempered heat as if my soul itself was being reborn within those fires.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As i laid there for the next couple minutes it felt as my body was rebooting itself, my senses slowly turning back on. The first thing i noticed was the smell of smoke all around me. Struggling at first, i pushed myself off the ground to try to find the source of the smell. Walking closer to my front door the smell increased in intensity as i neared. As I opened the door i felt a rush of hot air to meet me. Outside the embers of the world that i once knew danced upon the wind like the stars in the skies. The city i had grown up in was on fire, blazing like the gods themselves dropped hell fire upon the world. Suddenly there was a massive explosion and i felt a new way of heat as i was forced to close my eyes against the light. As i the light subsided i traced the sound to the rend that part of the city once occupied.
Looking up from the destruction my heart stop, on the horizon a colossus of a ship had teardrops falling on to the ground that the city once laid. Ice filled within my gut as i gazed upon the damage that the ship had brought. Dread gripping my heart i could only think of one thing, escape.
------------------------------
After that night i began to question myself, what right do i have to live with all those that surely were lost within the eradication of the city. Why was i still alive while all those people were dead. After a few more days i began to hears whispers as the tempered heat came back to me filling me with someone. I did not know what was happening but those whispers started to cooing me into comfort. They whispered that what happened to those in the city was not my fault and that nothing i could've done could've changed what took place there. This soothed my worries some but i kept feeling i there was something that i had to do.
---------------------------------------
A week later i was stopping at a river to drink, i do not know which one anymore as i had lost all form of direction due to my hunger which was a constant pain for me. After finishing i sat on the river bank staring into the water. This was becoming increasing common lately. I do not know if it was the lack of food or the shock of destructed all those days ago but as i stared into those waters the whispers that had been my constant companion began to grow louder and louder. With there musings i began to lose myself in their words, drifting in and out of myself. As i regained myself i felt a cool blanket wrapped around myself. As if nature itself embraced me the sight around me breathtaking. Lilies sprouted around a red maple tree that wrapped around me as if to comfort me. The whispers did not silence as they once did before. Now they murmur in a chorus that clearly rang through me. The warmth that always felt now began to bubble as they spoke. "Through our sacrifice you preserve us." With that the heat within me began to rapidly cool within me, hardening into steel. I knew what i must do in that moment. Without though i heard the words "Retentat ligni vitae, e pluribus unum" come to my mouth. With that i took off, back to the ruined city.
|
_This is my first short story. Please be kind. Feedback is highly welcome. :)_
----
Marcus stood there. The smell of the burnt remains of his civilization made it nearly impossible to breath. People, animals, cars, buildings. Absolutely nothing was spared by these creatures that arrived some days ago, out of space. Before trying to kill anyone they started to destroy the infrastructure. Internet, power plants, water supplies and fuel depots burned down before the people started to realize what was going on. And then they became the target.
Now, on the 7th of August 2018 Marcus was one of the few survivors that were able to flee or hide in underground bunkers. Nobody knew how many actually survived but Marcus was all alone with his dad, his little sister and his girlfriend. The three only got through the inferno by hiding in the small bunker his dad was building for decades. He told anyone that they were coming one day. “It’s written down, everything, in here!” he said now and then while pointing on a weird old book he got from his grandfather from Germany. It was such kind of book you may expect to see in fantasy of medieval themed movies. Written in Latin and with a lot of weird pictures of creatures, animals, the devil and so on. Marcus was interested in the book and his contents but learning new languages was never one of his strengths. Shortly after the alien attacks his dad went crazy, telling Marcus that his time finally came.
A walnut-sized blue, shiny ball, half transparent and looking like a large drop of water hovered in Marcus’ right hand while he was watching the huge alien spaceship heading in his direction. He was calm. He felt more calm, stronger and self-confident than ever before. After a short glimpse at that blue ball in his hand his view turned to the right where his dad and his sister stood. Both were fixed on the spaceship. Both had this expression on their faces that could be literally translated to “Payback time, assholes!” Marcus took a look to his left, to his girlfriend Mina. He smiled at her as she turned her face towards him. She smiled back. Time slowed down. Space and time seemed to bend around the four, standing on that small hill. Marcus turned back to the spaceship, took a deep breath, raised his spread right hand above his head like the other three did and all four shouted the same weird sentence. “Ne quid in rerum natura mater opus”. Let mother nature do her work. And so she did.
The blue ball in Marcus’ hand became bigger, like the size of a baseball, then a basket ball. Mina’s dark brown ball, looking like a pile of dirt did the same. His father held a ball of lava and his sister was surrounded by a small cloud. The four elements. Earth, Water, Fire and Air. Mother Nature was alive and the mana running trough the bodies of the four was able to call her powers. Like it was written in the book. Magic. And this magic now turned against the foreign enemies.
The four balls began to pulse. Slow, then faster, before glaring strings rose up to the clouds, where the four elements merged and became one, a thick white string, winding like a weak tree in a heavy storm. Just a second later Marcus was hit hard by something that felt like a shock wave, throwing him off his feet and knocking him out.
A cough, then light. Marcus opened his eyes. The clear sky and the bright sun were blinding him. His dad held his head, asking him if he was okay. After some seconds Marcus realized that fresh smell of grass and the slight breeze around him. “Is that a bird singing?” asked Marcus. His dad laughed. Mina kneed besides Marcus, with a lovingly smile on her face. “We did it honey. We did it.”
|
|
[WP] Humans once wielded formidable magical power but with over 7 billion of us on the planet now Mana has spread far to thinly to have any effect. When hostile aliens reduces humanity to a mere fraction the survivors discover an old power has begun to reawaken once again.
|
First contact was made almost ten years ago. They seemed well versed in warfare, in less than a day there wasn't a satellite left in the sky or a cable under the sea. Communication between nations fell to old ground bounce long range radios pulled out of mothballs. Conventional weapons proved to be ineffective and the nuclear option didn't fare much better. Eventually even the old analog radios where jammed. Steadily they started to wipe us out. Great mechanized beasts roamed the land, directed energy weapons reduced any caught in there sight to ash.
Slowly word began to spread of old legends come to light. Wizards, witches even warlocks making pacts with demons to gain power. Men and women alike where seen calling fourth searing bolts of lighting from the sky. Ripping the ground open to devour and crush any of the aliens creations that wandered to close to the last bastions of humanity. Liquefying the great metal monsters with conjured fire. Even death was no relief to our fallen comrades as the necromancers raised forth gargantuan armies of the dead. Crushing the invaders with the sheer mass of rotting meat and gleaming bone. As our species continued to fight for our existence more of the things that go bump in the night started coming to light.
At first they appeared to be fellow humans but it soon became clear that was not the case. The first were the Werewolves, nigh unkillable but by blessed silver. Transforming into great beasts they used claws and teeth to rend through armor only magic could penetrate. These furry juggernauts relied on humans not for food as in the old tales but as breeding stock. As we continued to dwindle in number they could no longer stalk the shadows. Though small in numbers they made up for it in shear brutality. Soon all of the others concealed in the shadows made themselves known. The vampires where less well received than the wolves but in the end they needed us. Becoming a donor for one elevated ones physically abilities for a time. Though to somes disappointment, crosses, sunlight and garlic did not faze them.
The Fae became another ally though much less trustful, one had to be cautious when speaking with them. Never make an open ended bargain with one, it never ends in your favor. Whatever the invaders mechanized army consisted of it was not iron and they seemed to take much glee in the wanton destruction they could wield. Many hopped the elves and dwarves of some fairy tales would come to be but to this day none have materialized. Though the dragons made there presence known they more are focused on what little territory they still held and if you happen to occupy it you have one hell of a home security system. Rumblings of the old gods walking among man once more have been heard but not verified.
As of now hope has yet to completely die for humanity and its newly rediscovered allies. While the dragons and invaders still rule the skies we have done much to retake the land. The current status of humanity as a whole is still not truly known, while magic is useful as a weapons it does not give it self over willingly to be used to pass missives. Communication over the oceans and across continents is still a slow process and we are just starting to retake the seas.
-Field Commander, 3rd Magus Division, Capt Jasper D. Wulf
|
_This is my first short story. Please be kind. Feedback is highly welcome. :)_
----
Marcus stood there. The smell of the burnt remains of his civilization made it nearly impossible to breath. People, animals, cars, buildings. Absolutely nothing was spared by these creatures that arrived some days ago, out of space. Before trying to kill anyone they started to destroy the infrastructure. Internet, power plants, water supplies and fuel depots burned down before the people started to realize what was going on. And then they became the target.
Now, on the 7th of August 2018 Marcus was one of the few survivors that were able to flee or hide in underground bunkers. Nobody knew how many actually survived but Marcus was all alone with his dad, his little sister and his girlfriend. The three only got through the inferno by hiding in the small bunker his dad was building for decades. He told anyone that they were coming one day. “It’s written down, everything, in here!” he said now and then while pointing on a weird old book he got from his grandfather from Germany. It was such kind of book you may expect to see in fantasy of medieval themed movies. Written in Latin and with a lot of weird pictures of creatures, animals, the devil and so on. Marcus was interested in the book and his contents but learning new languages was never one of his strengths. Shortly after the alien attacks his dad went crazy, telling Marcus that his time finally came.
A walnut-sized blue, shiny ball, half transparent and looking like a large drop of water hovered in Marcus’ right hand while he was watching the huge alien spaceship heading in his direction. He was calm. He felt more calm, stronger and self-confident than ever before. After a short glimpse at that blue ball in his hand his view turned to the right where his dad and his sister stood. Both were fixed on the spaceship. Both had this expression on their faces that could be literally translated to “Payback time, assholes!” Marcus took a look to his left, to his girlfriend Mina. He smiled at her as she turned her face towards him. She smiled back. Time slowed down. Space and time seemed to bend around the four, standing on that small hill. Marcus turned back to the spaceship, took a deep breath, raised his spread right hand above his head like the other three did and all four shouted the same weird sentence. “Ne quid in rerum natura mater opus”. Let mother nature do her work. And so she did.
The blue ball in Marcus’ hand became bigger, like the size of a baseball, then a basket ball. Mina’s dark brown ball, looking like a pile of dirt did the same. His father held a ball of lava and his sister was surrounded by a small cloud. The four elements. Earth, Water, Fire and Air. Mother Nature was alive and the mana running trough the bodies of the four was able to call her powers. Like it was written in the book. Magic. And this magic now turned against the foreign enemies.
The four balls began to pulse. Slow, then faster, before glaring strings rose up to the clouds, where the four elements merged and became one, a thick white string, winding like a weak tree in a heavy storm. Just a second later Marcus was hit hard by something that felt like a shock wave, throwing him off his feet and knocking him out.
A cough, then light. Marcus opened his eyes. The clear sky and the bright sun were blinding him. His dad held his head, asking him if he was okay. After some seconds Marcus realized that fresh smell of grass and the slight breeze around him. “Is that a bird singing?” asked Marcus. His dad laughed. Mina kneed besides Marcus, with a lovingly smile on her face. “We did it honey. We did it.”
|
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