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[WP]: You live in a world of high fantasy and magic. You wouldn't mind it as much if it weren't for all the travelling bands of heroes, plucky teenage protagonists and those conspiring to overthrow the king didn't all insist having their meetings in your coffee shop.	When I bought this place a few months back from the old dwarf Rockstead, I thought "This will be a good fixer upper." ...and it was, for a time. Modernizing Rockstead tavern was a bit of a passion for awhile - putting in new flooring, hanging up modern magelights and even hiring out a couple of passing adventurers to clear out the basement and it's rat problem. By the time I was done, I re-opened the shop under that name "Rockstead Coffery" and paid a witch a few gold to enchant the storefront with the scent of a fresh ground of coffee. Buisness seemed rough at first, being that the previous "normal" stock of clientel wanted nothing to do with a clean shop and a few cups of joe, but I quickly found myself catering to a group of mages coming off their all-nighters and a couple of adventurers looking to spend a few quiet moments of downtime to get their energy back after a dungeon run. After I figured out the habits of this side of the town, I fell into a pattern of serving the needs of my customers with just the right amount of mystery and a lot of caffeine. One early morning, I was hauling the bags of bean inside through the front door when I saw that one of my regulars, a practicing mage, who I had long ago pegged as a necromancer judging by the dirt under his fingernails, crypt dust on his boots and pale almost drained complexion, came stumbling through my open door a little bit early. He barely made it to the counter and I had to wave a chair under him before he collapsed, groaning for his usual. Chuckling, I made an exception for the poor soul at my counter, deftly stepping behind my fortress walls, I readied myself, donning the armor of the barista and pulling my usual weapons of cups and bowls out from where they hung on my wall. Casting a spell of cheer and smiling brightly, I went on my own little quest of serving the best damned coffee in town. The Necromancer willed the proffered White Mint Latte and hunched over it as if devouring it's warmth by proxy. Which, by the little snow flakes falling outside, he might just be. Walking back around, I leave the Necromancer to his first, or more likely, sacrifice of the day and close the front door, flipping the lock and closed sign with a twirl of the finger. A slight snap of air told me that I had more visitors, and a glance towards the booth in the back told me exactly who it was. Motioning a few menus out of their pocket near the counter, I plastered my best smile on my face as I approached the grumpy old men that formed the most terrifying powers within the city today. Passing the menu over to the first wizened old man on my right, I ignored his muttered complaint about the magic seating. The Archmage probably had more wealth and power in his pointy hat than I could ever imagine and he probably had a sentient, animated chair back in his office that catered to his every need and then some. The fact that he took a tiny portion out of his day to come here was amazing enough, and I dared not jinx it by saying anything rude right back. Plus, much of this by now was rote and ritual, just like the menus, it was something to say and do as everyone got comfortable. While the Witch of the West was pleased with herself as she was handed her menu. She was one of the rotating cast of people who sat in the middle of the two grumpy men, and a welcome one at that. Her matronly smile and question on my health were a breath of fresh air to contrast with the Archmage and the third member of this booth... The Demon King was in a good mood today I suspect, as he forgoed his usual menacing growl for a glare behind his dark hood instead as I handed the pink and white menu over. He certainly wasn't my faveorite customer, but like the Archmage, he was one I did not want to cross. Though, despite his all-too-suspicious hooded black cloak, his preference for shadowy corners, and his brusk, if not downright hostile front, his usual order of a Cookie Cappachino and embarressed tip at the end of the cup probably said more of his actual thoughts than anything else. Orders taken, I once again headed to the battleground behind my countered kingdom to slay the horrible beasts of caffeiene withdrawal and grumpyness. The Necromancer still nursed his cup, though his head was up and eyes a bit more alert. I give him both barrels, a knowing and friendly smile while holding up a paper to-go cup and knew that before he even said anything that he was taking another to go. By the time I had returned from delivering the delicious cups of coffee and confectionaries to the older group, and traded a few gold for a refreshment to go with the Necromancer more groups poured in and my day started in earnest. Adventurers and merchants, Demi-humans and out-right monsters all passed through my self-made battlefield, some staying for a spell, others rushing right back out the door, vanishing into the ever passing day. A day that didn't pass quick enough before THEY came in...	It's been a long time since i opened the doors to Gilbert's. And even since day one, a so-called "hero" enters the doors with his 91 comrades. They're often teenagers, and if they're not, they're alcoholic edgelords. Or maybe a mentor. Mentors aren't that bad, to be honest. But the teenagers always break stuff."Poor naive child, debt is going to cripple you if you continue. This stuff is expensive, y'know." i think. And i thought correct. Investigating crime is easy when you can just ask actual gods what happened, and more often than not it will be the truth. So the prisions are full of mug breaking kids. Nice. The edgelords always threaten me with that "If you don' give me the beer for free you will be killed,k?". I tell them that i'm actually the king's son, and that they will be executed if they try. Because, you know, it's true. That helps a lot about those who conspire and try to overthrow my dad. So all and all, not so bad, is it? If you excuse me now,i'm going to drink a Frapuccino of Fire breathing.
[WP]: You live in a world of high fantasy and magic. You wouldn't mind it as much if it weren't for all the travelling bands of heroes, plucky teenage protagonists and those conspiring to overthrow the king didn't all insist having their meetings in your coffee shop.	As of the last census, there were forty-three coffee shops in the city of Tildair. Forty-three perfectly good coffee shops, most open from 8 AM to 10 PM like any perfectly good coffee shop would be. Forty-two of them are inhabited by perfectly normal people who just want to stop in for some caffeine, maybe a bite to eat, maybe an exciting date, maybe just to relax and take in the day a little more slowly than usual. I happen to know that Dougal the Magnificent, the King's Right Hand, is a huge fan of The Burnt Bridge's slow roast right down the road from me. But I never get any of those nice, high-paying customers. No, I get the people that are commonly referred to as "murder hobos". I don't know why I do, it's not like I have a sign that says "Criminals, adventurers, and plucky teenagers welcome!" Somehow all those jerks just know to come to my place. I blame the Thieves' Guild even if I can't prove it. Damn bastards probably marked up my outside walls in murder hobo Thieves' Cant symbols that I'm just not trained to read. So it really isn't any surprise when this morning's customers walk in fully armed and armored and ornery. There's a giant female barbarian, a pretty boy half-elf paladin in full plate, a brutish-looking...something human in what looks like dragon scale armor, a rogueish elf, a small child, and a dwarf ranger with a longbow almost as large as himself. They drop themselves down at a table, barely squeezing all of them in. Gods damn, that large man and woman took up a lot of space. They're all a little beat up, with bags under their eyes. I sigh and saunter on over in a practiced, easy manner. "Welcome to the Drip and Drop and Dagger, my friends. Coffee is 10 copper per cup, specialty runs up to 22. What'll it be?" The elf glowers at the giant man in dragon scale armor. "Well, since SOMEONE melted all of our treasure in our last fight with an evil monk, I guess it'll be just the coffee for all of us." The brute glowers back. "I'm telling you, Irranis, destroying evil means destroying all the evil. It was tainted treasure! But you wouldn't understand that, you greedy thief!" I leave them behind as I go to fetch six coffees and bring them back, grabbing the copper off the table. The big boy is yelling something about deontological ethics and how absolute laws of morality can absolutely exist in a morally gray world while the paladin and ranger mostly look bemused. As I serve the coffee, the barbarian motions to me. "Yes ma'am?" She points to the child. "Barnaby is a little young for caffeine, he needs orange juice." "Juice!" shouts the kid. Time to go get the kid some juice, I guess. The shouting is mostly done when I return with the juice. Barnaby takes it and swigs it down with one big gulp and a huge grin. "Refreshing!" The big boy stands up and claps me on the shoulder. It's like getting hit by a wagon, and the old arrow wound in my knee nearly makes me collapse. "I have determined," he rumbles, "that you are not evil. No evil person could make such tasty coffee at such a reasonable price. Therefore, I shall not burn this shop down and destroy you. Have an excellent day, and may the Lady Dawn bless you!" "Give it a rest, Cadeyrn", mutters the paladin, sharing a wry look at the dwarf, who quietly chuckles and stands up. The rest of the party gets to their feet and sweeps out the door, Cadeyrn in last, laughing merrily. "Well, time to go murder our old friend Dougal and destroy some evil! I'll be sure to recommend this place to my friends!" It's only when they're well gone that I realize my belt pouch with their payment is gone. Goddamn rogues. I shake my head and the bell on the door jingles. A bunch of teens with big swords. Another sigh. Business as normal, I guess. Shit.	It's been a long time since i opened the doors to Gilbert's. And even since day one, a so-called "hero" enters the doors with his 91 comrades. They're often teenagers, and if they're not, they're alcoholic edgelords. Or maybe a mentor. Mentors aren't that bad, to be honest. But the teenagers always break stuff."Poor naive child, debt is going to cripple you if you continue. This stuff is expensive, y'know." i think. And i thought correct. Investigating crime is easy when you can just ask actual gods what happened, and more often than not it will be the truth. So the prisions are full of mug breaking kids. Nice. The edgelords always threaten me with that "If you don' give me the beer for free you will be killed,k?". I tell them that i'm actually the king's son, and that they will be executed if they try. Because, you know, it's true. That helps a lot about those who conspire and try to overthrow my dad. So all and all, not so bad, is it? If you excuse me now,i'm going to drink a Frapuccino of Fire breathing.
[WP] Earth has made contact with an alien race. There is a big event where earth's world leaders are meeting the alien queen publicly. You are in the crowd to watch the historical event. When the queen suddenly spots you, she disregards all protocol, comes to you and bows deeply.	First time posting here and first time writing something like this in English, so please go easy on my grammar. &#x200B; It had to happen sooner or later. Humanity had made contact with an alien race and that day was the day of the first meeting. The queen of the Ezien, as Humanity started to call them, was visiting Earth for a meeting with country representatives and a public speech. Even though it was to be broadcast on the internet, I had to go there to see it live. To feel the moment. To be a part of history. The unconscious part of my mind was practically screaming it’s a bad idea, but I took no notice. Such events only happen once in a lifetime after all. The amount of people assembled there when I arrived blew all my expectations out of the water. I had never seen such a crowd in my life before and I doubt I ever will again. The huge screens displayed some information Humanity knew about the Ezien and I quickly compared it with my research I did at home. Apparently Wikipedia proved to be correct for once. With nothing else to do, I took out my phone, plugged in my headphones and almost fell asleep, the crowd preventing me from collapsing. I was woken by the crowd going wild. It took me a moment to figure out where I was and what was going on, but soon I was overtaken by excitement as something that looked like an orbital lander from SciFi movies landed next to the stage. Its door opened and a single dark figure came out. She looked like a taller human, crossbred with a black dragon. She wore a cyan robe, detailed with plates of a material I couldn’t identify. I was surprised she came alone, usually you’d expect high ranking representatives to have bodyguards and others to escort them, but she had none of that. Yet you could see confidence gleaming in her eyes like she fears nothing in the whole universe. The moment I saw her eyes, a thought crossed my mind, that I really should get out of here while I still can. It only lasted a moment and then passed. The queen walked onstage slowly and proudly. The reception committee also seemed confused at the lack of escort, but she took no notice. She walked behind the podium and looked around. While looking in my general direction, her gaze stopped. I took a closer look in order to figure out who or what has drawn her attention and we locked gazes. Her eyes were blue like aquamarine and now looked like they expressed wisdom and knowledge, but what do I know about alien anatomy? I started to panic internally. Could she possibly know? I tried to act normal, while she stepped off the stage and started walking towards me. I started sensing a faint magical aura. Then it hit me. If the Ezien can see magic auras, then my peaceful life as a normal human is over. Being used to being the only one aware that magic exists, let alone capable of utilizing it, I forgot to disguise my aura of excess magic. Crap! People seemed shocked and surprised at her disregard for protocol and they followed her with their gazes as she slowly came over to me, where I was still frozen in place, panicking, my heart racing and my mind still without an idea what to do. She stopped 2 meters away from me and made a deep bow. If before my body was frozen, now even my mind ground to a halt. What the heck did just happen? After an awkwardly long moment of silence, I heard a deep and majestic voice in my mind: “I greet you, Rulebender.” Still panicking, I tried to focus my mind and remember the requirements for a telepathy spell, unsure if it would even work on a non-human: “Greetings, Queen.” I had no idea what to say, what she even wanted from me and just hoped my spell worked. After a brief pause the voice spoke again “I did not expect to find a Rulebender on Earth again.” Uh, again? Have the Ezien visited Earth before? “I would really appreciate if you keep that a secret, since Humanity doesn’t know magic exists.” I replied. I really, really hoped things would work out, since she already caused a scene by walking over to me and the fact that we were just standing there seemingly just staring at each didn’t help either. She seemed confused, but I couldn’t figure out what confused her. After ten seconds or so an answer came: “As you wish. We are your humble servants after all. I’ll contact you again after the speech.” WAAAIIIT WHAT??!?? How did this just happen? My servants? What? Why? I might be a magician on a planet where no one even knows magic exists, but that’s not quire a reason for an alien to just walk up to you and declare it’s your servant. I had so many questions, but she just turned around and walked towards the stage again. But the stares of the people stayed fixed on me and with the corner of my eye I saw the security guards running towards me. I really should have listened to my intuition. The guards apparently thought I wanted to hurt her or something and pointed their guns at me. So much about a peaceful, history defining afternoon. They didn’t seem to have any interest in negotiations, so my only option was to go against the rules I’ve set for myself quite some years ago and use magic in public. Even though the choice between my life and my magic being seen should be pretty obvious, I still hesitated. A bullet scraping my left arm sped up my decision. I cast a shield spell on myself and got ready to cast a flight spell as soon as possible. Getting away was easy, but I had no idea what to do now; my abilities have been exposed, some people in the crowd had probably fainted out of shock and I thought I saw disbelief in the Queen’s eyes while I was getting away. Oh, and all the intelligence and other agencies are probably looking looking for me. I simply went home and pretended nothing happened. Two hours later I suddenly heard her voice again, although this time it was weaker: “Are you okay? Could you please elaborate what happened?” Without knowing her location, I had no way of replying to her, so I just sat on my bed staring at the wall. A minute later I heard noises outside and looked through the window. Her orbital lander was hovering in front of my window, with the doors open. “Unless you want to deal with them, you would probably want to come with me.” I heard her voice again. “There will be a more proper time for you to return.” I simply stopped overthinking everything and just packed my things and boarded the lander. About half the way to orbit I finally recollected myself enough to ask: “You said you were my servants. How did it come to this? I don’t understand at all.” She seemed shocked a bit, but then answered my question: “Didn’t you know? We Ezien have been serving under Earth’s Rulebender since the dawn of times. It’s just that, to our knowledge, Earth had no Rulebenders for thousands of years now. I didn’t expect to find a person like you on a diplomatic visit.” Slowly it started coming back to me. The old scroll I read quite a while ago, talking about crossbreeding humans with dragons. The tomes talking about the disappearance of dragons and their kin from Earth. It suddenly all made sense. The dragons actually existed and they didn’t go extinct. They just left Earth for reasons unknown. Their descendants returned as “aliens” to reestablish contacts with Humanity and found out they have a new master. I definitely didn’t sign up for this when I decided I’ll train my magical talent, but it seems like it could be fun. Let’s see if I can make the universe a better place.	How did it come to this? I thought Earth would be a good place to vacation, what with the humans to primitive to feel what I was. I got by, living lifetime after lifetime for nearly a thousand local years. I got board of monotony sometimes, and changed things up, introducing advancements that humans maybe weren’t quite ready for at the time, but mostly I was a nobody living an uninteresting life. That all ended when the Chëk happened across this backwater planet. I suppose it was going to happen eventually, I just wish it’d taken a little longer. I stand now in a large crowd of people, come to see if these ‘aliens’ are real, or just another hype nobody needed. If I’d expected it to be true, I’d atleast have made a better reentrence into the Verse, than this. As the meeting was supposed to be beginning shortly, the Chëk ship comes down from the sky, and lands just meters in front of us, at the front of the crowd. A group of guards step from the ship, and freeze. I think in that moment ‘Oh, shoot.” As the world comes to realize this wasn’t just a ploy for attention and news. One of the guards steps back into the shuttle, and a moment later a queen steps into the light. “Oh, shoot.” I mutter under my breath, as the queen look directly at me, out of millions. I sigh. “Well, better late then never I suppose.” I say, and blink over the to ship. The crowd goes wild at my sudden appearance and the secret service move to intercept me, but it’s too late. The queen and her guards step the few paces down the ramp and onto the tarmac, and immediately bend their knees to me. “Destroyer” They speak in reverence, heads bowed low. “Yes?” I respond halfheartedly, smirking slightly at what it must look like. To think, one of the greatest beings in the Greater Multiverse, stood here in what would amount to rags in the Chëk culture. I must look hilarious to them, but they will not laugh, never laugh. They know better than that. The queen shows a slight flash of confusion in her eyes, before she speaks. “What are you doing here, Agent?” “I’m on vacation.” I respond. “Humans at this stage in their history can’t feel me. Or, they can, but they still rationalize it away as fiction.” “What would to have of me?” The queen asks. “Oh, nothing.” I wave away their concerns, pacing slowly. “Don’t wipe them out, but you don’t have to help them if you don’t want too.” I sigh. “I’d better get going. Maybe the next Verse over is more relazed.” I take one last glance around, and blink out of existence. I’d imagine, when asked, the Chëk will explain Anu and I, the Greater and Lesser multiverse, and the Hub to them. I don’t particularly care to be around for that. This next dimension won’t have the Chëk in it, that’s for sure. I just want to be left alone... *** Chronicles of Padomay: The Agent of Change, part 2, I hope everyone enjoyed.
[WP] Earth has made contact with an alien race. There is a big event where earth's world leaders are meeting the alien queen publicly. You are in the crowd to watch the historical event. When the queen suddenly spots you, she disregards all protocol, comes to you and bows deeply.	First time posting here and first time writing something like this in English, so please go easy on my grammar. &#x200B; It had to happen sooner or later. Humanity had made contact with an alien race and that day was the day of the first meeting. The queen of the Ezien, as Humanity started to call them, was visiting Earth for a meeting with country representatives and a public speech. Even though it was to be broadcast on the internet, I had to go there to see it live. To feel the moment. To be a part of history. The unconscious part of my mind was practically screaming it’s a bad idea, but I took no notice. Such events only happen once in a lifetime after all. The amount of people assembled there when I arrived blew all my expectations out of the water. I had never seen such a crowd in my life before and I doubt I ever will again. The huge screens displayed some information Humanity knew about the Ezien and I quickly compared it with my research I did at home. Apparently Wikipedia proved to be correct for once. With nothing else to do, I took out my phone, plugged in my headphones and almost fell asleep, the crowd preventing me from collapsing. I was woken by the crowd going wild. It took me a moment to figure out where I was and what was going on, but soon I was overtaken by excitement as something that looked like an orbital lander from SciFi movies landed next to the stage. Its door opened and a single dark figure came out. She looked like a taller human, crossbred with a black dragon. She wore a cyan robe, detailed with plates of a material I couldn’t identify. I was surprised she came alone, usually you’d expect high ranking representatives to have bodyguards and others to escort them, but she had none of that. Yet you could see confidence gleaming in her eyes like she fears nothing in the whole universe. The moment I saw her eyes, a thought crossed my mind, that I really should get out of here while I still can. It only lasted a moment and then passed. The queen walked onstage slowly and proudly. The reception committee also seemed confused at the lack of escort, but she took no notice. She walked behind the podium and looked around. While looking in my general direction, her gaze stopped. I took a closer look in order to figure out who or what has drawn her attention and we locked gazes. Her eyes were blue like aquamarine and now looked like they expressed wisdom and knowledge, but what do I know about alien anatomy? I started to panic internally. Could she possibly know? I tried to act normal, while she stepped off the stage and started walking towards me. I started sensing a faint magical aura. Then it hit me. If the Ezien can see magic auras, then my peaceful life as a normal human is over. Being used to being the only one aware that magic exists, let alone capable of utilizing it, I forgot to disguise my aura of excess magic. Crap! People seemed shocked and surprised at her disregard for protocol and they followed her with their gazes as she slowly came over to me, where I was still frozen in place, panicking, my heart racing and my mind still without an idea what to do. She stopped 2 meters away from me and made a deep bow. If before my body was frozen, now even my mind ground to a halt. What the heck did just happen? After an awkwardly long moment of silence, I heard a deep and majestic voice in my mind: “I greet you, Rulebender.” Still panicking, I tried to focus my mind and remember the requirements for a telepathy spell, unsure if it would even work on a non-human: “Greetings, Queen.” I had no idea what to say, what she even wanted from me and just hoped my spell worked. After a brief pause the voice spoke again “I did not expect to find a Rulebender on Earth again.” Uh, again? Have the Ezien visited Earth before? “I would really appreciate if you keep that a secret, since Humanity doesn’t know magic exists.” I replied. I really, really hoped things would work out, since she already caused a scene by walking over to me and the fact that we were just standing there seemingly just staring at each didn’t help either. She seemed confused, but I couldn’t figure out what confused her. After ten seconds or so an answer came: “As you wish. We are your humble servants after all. I’ll contact you again after the speech.” WAAAIIIT WHAT??!?? How did this just happen? My servants? What? Why? I might be a magician on a planet where no one even knows magic exists, but that’s not quire a reason for an alien to just walk up to you and declare it’s your servant. I had so many questions, but she just turned around and walked towards the stage again. But the stares of the people stayed fixed on me and with the corner of my eye I saw the security guards running towards me. I really should have listened to my intuition. The guards apparently thought I wanted to hurt her or something and pointed their guns at me. So much about a peaceful, history defining afternoon. They didn’t seem to have any interest in negotiations, so my only option was to go against the rules I’ve set for myself quite some years ago and use magic in public. Even though the choice between my life and my magic being seen should be pretty obvious, I still hesitated. A bullet scraping my left arm sped up my decision. I cast a shield spell on myself and got ready to cast a flight spell as soon as possible. Getting away was easy, but I had no idea what to do now; my abilities have been exposed, some people in the crowd had probably fainted out of shock and I thought I saw disbelief in the Queen’s eyes while I was getting away. Oh, and all the intelligence and other agencies are probably looking looking for me. I simply went home and pretended nothing happened. Two hours later I suddenly heard her voice again, although this time it was weaker: “Are you okay? Could you please elaborate what happened?” Without knowing her location, I had no way of replying to her, so I just sat on my bed staring at the wall. A minute later I heard noises outside and looked through the window. Her orbital lander was hovering in front of my window, with the doors open. “Unless you want to deal with them, you would probably want to come with me.” I heard her voice again. “There will be a more proper time for you to return.” I simply stopped overthinking everything and just packed my things and boarded the lander. About half the way to orbit I finally recollected myself enough to ask: “You said you were my servants. How did it come to this? I don’t understand at all.” She seemed shocked a bit, but then answered my question: “Didn’t you know? We Ezien have been serving under Earth’s Rulebender since the dawn of times. It’s just that, to our knowledge, Earth had no Rulebenders for thousands of years now. I didn’t expect to find a person like you on a diplomatic visit.” Slowly it started coming back to me. The old scroll I read quite a while ago, talking about crossbreeding humans with dragons. The tomes talking about the disappearance of dragons and their kin from Earth. It suddenly all made sense. The dragons actually existed and they didn’t go extinct. They just left Earth for reasons unknown. Their descendants returned as “aliens” to reestablish contacts with Humanity and found out they have a new master. I definitely didn’t sign up for this when I decided I’ll train my magical talent, but it seems like it could be fun. Let’s see if I can make the universe a better place.	"Uhhh, am I what?" I glanced down at the bowing alien unsure how to proceed. "I think you've mistaken me for someone else." "No you idiot." The man next to me whispers angrily. "Bowing in their culture isn't a sign of respect, it's them being pissed off at you!" The alien queen then rights herself, smiling at me before forcing her expression into something more neutral and everyone gasps. "Okay what am I missing now?" "Seriously dude, didn't you read the pamphlet?" "The what?" "She's challenging you to a duel! You insulted her!" "How????" "You looked directly into her eyes!" "I don't wanna die! How the hell am I supposed to fight her?" "Read the damn manual!" Reaching into my pocket I found nothing but lint and frustration. "Uhh, can I borrow someone else's pamphlet?" The guy next to me who had been so helpful reaches into his own pocket and pulls out a crumpled mess of paper before scanning it and pointing out the most relevant section of the pamphlet. "What the hell is Snu Snu?" I ask out loud. Long story short, world is at war now. Doesn't matter, had Snu Snu.
[WP] Earth has made contact with an alien race. There is a big event where earth's world leaders are meeting the alien queen publicly. You are in the crowd to watch the historical event. When the queen suddenly spots you, she disregards all protocol, comes to you and bows deeply.	Quick Preface : first sub, so bear with me... &#x200B; "What do you mean Master Shipwright?" Probably one of the more appropriate questions when a queen bows to you, a nineteen year old mechanical engineering major. I on the other-hand was too busy thinking about what my mom is going to say after this, and simply ask : "Will this pay off my crippling debt?" "Oh, I have already taken care of your loans. If you would please, there is much to discuss." The royal motions to her ship. The ship itself was a majestic blend between gold and chrome, with an engine hum close to music. "Quite the beauty isn't it? Well that is a problem for us, Something only an engineer can fix." "What about one of the NASA engineers, they sorta do this for a living!" "They don't have what we are looking for, you do." "how many ships do you have?" "One Million Forty Two Thousand Eight Hundred and Seventy Six, With another Forty Two Thousand in production." After playing far too many space games, I figured it would be some number in the hundreds, maybe even thousands. Not something as absurd as that. Through all this talking however, the crowd along with many of the officials of state started to call out in protest, I guess some Joe-Schmoe being picked up by a queen in a beautiful ship could leave some jealous. "Hear me Terrans! In my absence I will leave for you my trusted ambassador. I must travel away to my own territory in hopes of accomplishing what was set out for." Entering the ship you could tell that I was completely lost in ogling at every little detail of the ship. It was some time before I realized we had made it all the way into another galaxy, and that I had left milk that was about ready to expire in my dorm. "Soooo, Your Majesty--" "Are you worried about all of your effects being left? Or are you finally going to ask about your new job?" I looked down, with a bit of a stupid grin on my face. "Really, you were more worried about the milk than my imperial fleet? I had to travel Light Years to find you, go through not only my own court, but convince your entire planet to not destroy my ship on sight." "Your point, ma'am?" "Humour me, Please." "Well, since I can only assume I am as you said ,Light Years away from home, what is wrong with your fleet?" "My fleet is impractical, another empire is trying to swallow my people up." Her tone was that of someone quite done with my shenanigans. "And you want me to make you a ship that win?" "More like a fleet of ships, but yes." "How do I work your computer?" Now, many, many months later, I think, I stand here christening the final ship : Filius Terra. The queen stands next to me, with what I can only assume to be tears of joy. "With this ship, we can take back what we have lost, thank you, mighty Terran." &#x200B; Postface : Well that is my story, sorry if it's a bit wonky. &#x200B; &#x200B;	"Uhhh, am I what?" I glanced down at the bowing alien unsure how to proceed. "I think you've mistaken me for someone else." "No you idiot." The man next to me whispers angrily. "Bowing in their culture isn't a sign of respect, it's them being pissed off at you!" The alien queen then rights herself, smiling at me before forcing her expression into something more neutral and everyone gasps. "Okay what am I missing now?" "Seriously dude, didn't you read the pamphlet?" "The what?" "She's challenging you to a duel! You insulted her!" "How????" "You looked directly into her eyes!" "I don't wanna die! How the hell am I supposed to fight her?" "Read the damn manual!" Reaching into my pocket I found nothing but lint and frustration. "Uhh, can I borrow someone else's pamphlet?" The guy next to me who had been so helpful reaches into his own pocket and pulls out a crumpled mess of paper before scanning it and pointing out the most relevant section of the pamphlet. "What the hell is Snu Snu?" I ask out loud. Long story short, world is at war now. Doesn't matter, had Snu Snu.
[WP] Earth has made contact with an alien race. There is a big event where earth's world leaders are meeting the alien queen publicly. You are in the crowd to watch the historical event. When the queen suddenly spots you, she disregards all protocol, comes to you and bows deeply.	I stood among the crowd when the ship landed. The president, ever full of himself, stood on a platform among other world leaders. Press was in the very front, followed by people who managed to get to the event first. I was somewhere in the middle, a face in the crowd, I had the talent for having no presence. So, blending in was never a problem for me. I had come here because I had been in the area, also, I wanted to be able to say I was there when the aliens first landed. After all, that’s a cool story. Though not original, after all, most people were there themselves for the same reason. The ramp lowered and with smoke and blinding light soldiers came out first. They looked like anthropomorphized butterflies. They were majestic and beautiful. I heard people gasp from the sight, one person made a crude comment about this ‘awakening’ something in them. Then after six soldiers came out and stood in two rows leaving an opening to walk through, she stepped out. Twice as beautiful as the others with crystal-like wings. The flashing from photography created a halo presence around her. Everyone around me stood still in awe, others held their breath, the whole area was silent waiting for her to speak... And then I sneezed. This sneeze wasn’t something that was easily hidden even if there had been noise among the suddenly hushed crowd. It was one of those loud and hard sneezes that made my glasses fly from my face and onto the ground. The world became a blur as I bent down to pick them up, only to see an oddly shaped hand reach for them as well. “I believe… These are yours…” A soft voice hummed in the back corners of my mind. I narrowed my eyes to try and focus as a took the glasses away from the gently grasping hands that presented them to me. Slipping them on I took a momentary step back realizing who had given them to me. The queen had walked up to me away from the stage leaving the entire crowd and her own soldiers dumbfounded. “T-…Thanks.” I said trying to clear my throat. She appeared to smile, “You’re very welcome. I’m also very flattered at your proposal. I believe it would be of great benefit to our planets.” She hummed reaching her hand towards me and caressing my cheek. “Proposal…?” I said looking around as she nodded, “You were the only one who responded to my presenting for a mate.” She said motioning to her wings. She shot a look at her own people, “No one of my own kind has been brave enough to even suggest a courtship with me.” She said sounding very disappointed as some of her soldiers adjusted their weapons awkwardly. “Your mating call was very impressive... And *very* loud...” She said with a small flutter to her wings, I shifted feeling very flustered. My sneeze was hardly a mating call as it was a reaction to the pollen in the air during the spring. But not wanting to screw things up with these guys I gave her a smile. “Thanks…?” I said more like a question noticing the nervous looks I was getting from politicians on stage and people around me. “No. Thank you for being brave enough to approach me and to make the alliance with our planets that much *deeper*.” She said grasping both of my hands with her own. I gave her an awkward laugh, “Yea… Yeah…” I said nervously. “I am certain our offspring will be a very beautiful symbol of unity!” She exclaimed happily as a gulped. She was going to be a bit disappointed if she wanted kids... I thought glancing down at myself. Then, I felt a tingle in my nose as she was looking me over. She was going on about something about weddings and what not. Before I could stop myself, I sneezed again. I covered my mouth to prevent any spit from hitting her face and she tilted her head. “Oh, very eager, are we?” She said after a terrifying moment of silence. Feeling the color drain from my face, all I could do as a nod as she gave me a pleased look and pulled me towards the ship. I had no idea how I was going to explain to her I was unable to procreate with her and it seemed that conversation was fast approaching. “Excuse us!” The queen said to the president who seemed insanely offended. I gave him a sheepish grin as he glared at me before pulling out his phone. No doubt he was planning on going on some sort of rant online. Probably something about interspecies lesbian relationships and how this generation was so corrupt that an innocent alien queen had managed to be seduced by some deviant. The queen pulled me into the ship and away from everyone. She spoke to some highly dressed being who approached her confused about my presence upon the ship. She told what now appeared to be some sort of ambassador to take care of the political situation outside because she had to attend to… ‘My needs’… My face burned red hot in embarrassment and humiliation. I was still trying to process what was even going on and was pretty much at this point going through the motions. The other being nodded and headed outside leaving the Queen and me to ourselves. She led me away from the corridor that we had been standing in, into what appeared to be her quarters. Which looked pretty much how you might expect a butterfly queen’s room to look like on a spaceship. Tons of flowers growing all around. Some sort of flower bed with a silk canopy hanging over it in the middle. She led me towards it and pushed me down before the door even closed. Her wings fluttered as she approached me. Not seeing any way out of this situation, I blurted out. “Wait!” She paused, “What’s a matter?” She questioned, I shifted on the puffy material made of this weird flower bed. “We can’t do this…” I said looking off to the side. She seemed displeased by this, “Why not?” She pressed seeming a little hurt that I had led her on this far. “Well…” I said looking back at her, my mind racing with reasons she may see as logical and lead to her not being angry with me or blowing up the planet. “I’m female and you’re female… So, we… Can’t have… Offspring…” I said slowly, carefully wording my sentence. She tilted her head confused and leaned close, I heard some sniffing and she laughed as if realizing what I meant. Her laughter chimed in my head like windchimes as she leaned back. “See-…?” I started to say before being cut off, “This is no problem.” She said as the color on her wings changed from a light blue to a pink. “My race is genderfluid.” She hummed leaning down towards me. All I could get out as the door closed was a small, “oh…” I had once prided myself on being unnoticeable after spending years hating it. It seemed now, the one time I was noticed… Lead to me becoming the consort to an intergalactic butterfly queen… (A/N: This is literally the first situation that came to mind. Kind of a "Some Like It Hot" but in space.) &#x200B;	"Uhhh, am I what?" I glanced down at the bowing alien unsure how to proceed. "I think you've mistaken me for someone else." "No you idiot." The man next to me whispers angrily. "Bowing in their culture isn't a sign of respect, it's them being pissed off at you!" The alien queen then rights herself, smiling at me before forcing her expression into something more neutral and everyone gasps. "Okay what am I missing now?" "Seriously dude, didn't you read the pamphlet?" "The what?" "She's challenging you to a duel! You insulted her!" "How????" "You looked directly into her eyes!" "I don't wanna die! How the hell am I supposed to fight her?" "Read the damn manual!" Reaching into my pocket I found nothing but lint and frustration. "Uhh, can I borrow someone else's pamphlet?" The guy next to me who had been so helpful reaches into his own pocket and pulls out a crumpled mess of paper before scanning it and pointing out the most relevant section of the pamphlet. "What the hell is Snu Snu?" I ask out loud. Long story short, world is at war now. Doesn't matter, had Snu Snu.
[WP] Earth has made contact with an alien race. There is a big event where earth's world leaders are meeting the alien queen publicly. You are in the crowd to watch the historical event. When the queen suddenly spots you, she disregards all protocol, comes to you and bows deeply.	First time posting here and first time writing something like this in English, so please go easy on my grammar. &#x200B; It had to happen sooner or later. Humanity had made contact with an alien race and that day was the day of the first meeting. The queen of the Ezien, as Humanity started to call them, was visiting Earth for a meeting with country representatives and a public speech. Even though it was to be broadcast on the internet, I had to go there to see it live. To feel the moment. To be a part of history. The unconscious part of my mind was practically screaming it’s a bad idea, but I took no notice. Such events only happen once in a lifetime after all. The amount of people assembled there when I arrived blew all my expectations out of the water. I had never seen such a crowd in my life before and I doubt I ever will again. The huge screens displayed some information Humanity knew about the Ezien and I quickly compared it with my research I did at home. Apparently Wikipedia proved to be correct for once. With nothing else to do, I took out my phone, plugged in my headphones and almost fell asleep, the crowd preventing me from collapsing. I was woken by the crowd going wild. It took me a moment to figure out where I was and what was going on, but soon I was overtaken by excitement as something that looked like an orbital lander from SciFi movies landed next to the stage. Its door opened and a single dark figure came out. She looked like a taller human, crossbred with a black dragon. She wore a cyan robe, detailed with plates of a material I couldn’t identify. I was surprised she came alone, usually you’d expect high ranking representatives to have bodyguards and others to escort them, but she had none of that. Yet you could see confidence gleaming in her eyes like she fears nothing in the whole universe. The moment I saw her eyes, a thought crossed my mind, that I really should get out of here while I still can. It only lasted a moment and then passed. The queen walked onstage slowly and proudly. The reception committee also seemed confused at the lack of escort, but she took no notice. She walked behind the podium and looked around. While looking in my general direction, her gaze stopped. I took a closer look in order to figure out who or what has drawn her attention and we locked gazes. Her eyes were blue like aquamarine and now looked like they expressed wisdom and knowledge, but what do I know about alien anatomy? I started to panic internally. Could she possibly know? I tried to act normal, while she stepped off the stage and started walking towards me. I started sensing a faint magical aura. Then it hit me. If the Ezien can see magic auras, then my peaceful life as a normal human is over. Being used to being the only one aware that magic exists, let alone capable of utilizing it, I forgot to disguise my aura of excess magic. Crap! People seemed shocked and surprised at her disregard for protocol and they followed her with their gazes as she slowly came over to me, where I was still frozen in place, panicking, my heart racing and my mind still without an idea what to do. She stopped 2 meters away from me and made a deep bow. If before my body was frozen, now even my mind ground to a halt. What the heck did just happen? After an awkwardly long moment of silence, I heard a deep and majestic voice in my mind: “I greet you, Rulebender.” Still panicking, I tried to focus my mind and remember the requirements for a telepathy spell, unsure if it would even work on a non-human: “Greetings, Queen.” I had no idea what to say, what she even wanted from me and just hoped my spell worked. After a brief pause the voice spoke again “I did not expect to find a Rulebender on Earth again.” Uh, again? Have the Ezien visited Earth before? “I would really appreciate if you keep that a secret, since Humanity doesn’t know magic exists.” I replied. I really, really hoped things would work out, since she already caused a scene by walking over to me and the fact that we were just standing there seemingly just staring at each didn’t help either. She seemed confused, but I couldn’t figure out what confused her. After ten seconds or so an answer came: “As you wish. We are your humble servants after all. I’ll contact you again after the speech.” WAAAIIIT WHAT??!?? How did this just happen? My servants? What? Why? I might be a magician on a planet where no one even knows magic exists, but that’s not quire a reason for an alien to just walk up to you and declare it’s your servant. I had so many questions, but she just turned around and walked towards the stage again. But the stares of the people stayed fixed on me and with the corner of my eye I saw the security guards running towards me. I really should have listened to my intuition. The guards apparently thought I wanted to hurt her or something and pointed their guns at me. So much about a peaceful, history defining afternoon. They didn’t seem to have any interest in negotiations, so my only option was to go against the rules I’ve set for myself quite some years ago and use magic in public. Even though the choice between my life and my magic being seen should be pretty obvious, I still hesitated. A bullet scraping my left arm sped up my decision. I cast a shield spell on myself and got ready to cast a flight spell as soon as possible. Getting away was easy, but I had no idea what to do now; my abilities have been exposed, some people in the crowd had probably fainted out of shock and I thought I saw disbelief in the Queen’s eyes while I was getting away. Oh, and all the intelligence and other agencies are probably looking looking for me. I simply went home and pretended nothing happened. Two hours later I suddenly heard her voice again, although this time it was weaker: “Are you okay? Could you please elaborate what happened?” Without knowing her location, I had no way of replying to her, so I just sat on my bed staring at the wall. A minute later I heard noises outside and looked through the window. Her orbital lander was hovering in front of my window, with the doors open. “Unless you want to deal with them, you would probably want to come with me.” I heard her voice again. “There will be a more proper time for you to return.” I simply stopped overthinking everything and just packed my things and boarded the lander. About half the way to orbit I finally recollected myself enough to ask: “You said you were my servants. How did it come to this? I don’t understand at all.” She seemed shocked a bit, but then answered my question: “Didn’t you know? We Ezien have been serving under Earth’s Rulebender since the dawn of times. It’s just that, to our knowledge, Earth had no Rulebenders for thousands of years now. I didn’t expect to find a person like you on a diplomatic visit.” Slowly it started coming back to me. The old scroll I read quite a while ago, talking about crossbreeding humans with dragons. The tomes talking about the disappearance of dragons and their kin from Earth. It suddenly all made sense. The dragons actually existed and they didn’t go extinct. They just left Earth for reasons unknown. Their descendants returned as “aliens” to reestablish contacts with Humanity and found out they have a new master. I definitely didn’t sign up for this when I decided I’ll train my magical talent, but it seems like it could be fun. Let’s see if I can make the universe a better place.	It took me almost nine months to barter and bully my way to this event. The entire population of earth wanted to be there but I had to be. I sold everything I could survive without to just get be in with a chance of being here. But it was worth it. They've finally come, the great wyrms of the midnight expanse have arrived on earth. So I'm stood at the front of the crowd, pressed right up against the barrier, watching. Waiting. It took almost six hours for all the world leaders to arrange themselves into an orderly format that didn't disrupt any peace treaties and then for the biomechanical fleet to land before them. As the lead ship's doors unlocked and heaved their great masses apart we catch the first glimpse of the grand swarm queen. She is colossal, at least twice as great as she appeared in the announcement broadcast. Her enormous black body covered in iridescent scales, bright white talons click on the metal as she descends down the ramp, holding her forelimbs of the ground to make a vague attempt at a wave to the crowd. Huge coal black wings tuck close behind her back, a long serpentine neck holds a reptilian head above them and giant golden eyes scan the ranks of dignitaries. "Greetings people of Earth." She says, somehow in perfect English. "It has been too long since my kin set foot upon your world. But we have returned to you." She gestures behind her, to where a dozen smaller wyrms bring forth chests full of strange glowing matter or trailing cables. "And we bring gifts from the stars." There's a brief scuffle as the US president takes the microphone. "We don't want any of your shitty technology." He bellows before being dragged away. The queen makes a strange coughing noise that must be a laugh. "Then don't take it or our knowledge. Be like the cavemen of old who feared us and cowered in caves when the city folk reach to us with open arms and recieved empowerment." She pauses as her eyes scan the crowd. They're trained directly on mine. Making a startled noise like a backfiring truck the Grand Queen Empress of the swarm tilts her head to one side. "It cannot be." She whispers and steps over the armed guards, and bows low before me, her enormous scaled body dipping down till her great crest touched the floor before my feet. "We did not expect to find one of your kin still remaining oh Elder One." She says, her voice booming out once more. I'm shocked. No one should remember us. We are no more. We haven't been since before they came.
[WP] Earth has made contact with an alien race. There is a big event where earth's world leaders are meeting the alien queen publicly. You are in the crowd to watch the historical event. When the queen suddenly spots you, she disregards all protocol, comes to you and bows deeply.	There were dozens of people. Washington DC was packed to the brim for this event. Presidential inaugurations had a fraction of today's turnout, and traffic was a catastrophe getting here. I was in the middle of a group of what felt like millions of people, and for all I knew, I was. For all the noise that could typically be made with such a massive number of people, it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. People were waiting for an alien monarch to meet with the U.S. President. Allegedly, this alien queen was meeting the world leaders separately in front of large crowds as a show of good faith to the people of these countries, and there were very few leaders who turned her down. "Ladies and gentlemen," an announcer began. Nobody could hear anything else as the crowd's excitement exploded and drowned him out. Suddenly, a strange figure exited Capitol Hill. It was impossible to make out their appearance. The figure was clearly taller than any person. Televisions that were visible made it out to be between seven and eight feet tall. Then they zoomed in on her face. This was the alien queen. She was tall and pale, though her lack of legs made her height difficult to judge. She looked almost like a cross between a snake and a person. Her appearance was very similar that of a naga. She was very humanoid in her upper body, save for the scales in places. Her lower body was almost purely that of a snake, the only exception i could see were some frills nearer to her lower back. Her scales were almost piercingly white. It was almost painful to look at her through the screen. As I turned my attention to her in-person, she was shaking the hands of the president, and as she approached the microphone to do her speech for the crowd, she eyes over us before locking eyes with me. Her expression completely shifts. The frills on her back and tail flare up, she motions to what looks like her own kind of secret service and points in my direction. They nod and disappear. She whispers to the president and he seems to nod understandingly, though his expression was one of confusion. The president steps up to the podium and says, "Apologies, everybody. She will be making her speech shortly, but it seems a small matter has come up." People start shuffling, with some outcry. Most people figured that they've waited this long, they can wait just a bit longer. I suddenly have a very bad feeling. I couldn't shake this feeling that she was motioning to me specifically. I could almost feel her stare as I began to shake. Suddenly there were some cries from the front of the crowd. The other aliens she had motioned to were clearing a path for her through the crowd. Her eyes never left me, and I couldn't seem to move. Soon, she was right in front of me, her two guards were massive compared to her, and she was already large compared to the average person. I thought I had done something that had offended her, but then she did the unthinkable, and bowed before me, along with her two guards. Something about the way that their bodies would stay balanced despite the humanoid parts of their bodies being bent ninety degrees shocked me. I was so overcome with shock that I dropped to my knees, and began to bow even deeper. I didn't understand what was going on but I certainly wasn't going to be seen as disrespectful. I did not want to be the guy who got Earth into an intergalactic war because some snake lady wanted to test some random guy in the crowd. "Why do you bow, son of Zeus?" I heard from the queen. I had never heard her voice before, but there was no mistaking it. If her otherworldly accent didn't give her away, it was very clear that she had the voice of a commander. The guards at her flanks looked at me quizzically. "W-what?" I stammered. The queen's eyes widened. Her pupils expanded like a cat that's spotted prey, and she started saying something to herself in another language. She motioned for her two guards. They slithered forward to grab me. I panicked, but I couldn't scream. They lifted me up by my arms, with each of them grabbing one. The queen pulled out a round little device and threw it to the ground. In a flash of white, I was transported to a strange looking room. I panicked, I started kicking and thrashing to get these massive beasts to let go of me. I started shouting and screaming for them to let me go. I was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, and began to look around for any sort of exit. I saw what looked like a rounded hallway and began to bolt towards it. Before I could make it out an energy barrier appeared in what appeared to be the doorframe to the hallway. I stopped and turned to face my abductors. They looked more confused than anything else. As though they couldn't understand why I was so terrified. "Would you like to know why you're here, or are you going to keep screaming?" the queen asked rather calmly. My heart was still racing. I couldn't see any sort of escape, as there only seemed to be one way out of the room, and the two pillars that flanked what looked like a throne in the center of the room didn't seem to have any other use. I nodded slowly. "We've been looking for you. Rather, we've been looking for any of you. You are the descendant of Zeus." I gave her a blank stare. I believed in no gods, and followed no faith. Zeus was a far cry from even having a proper religion these days, let alone any churches or active worshipers. "We need you to help us. Are you ready to help?" she asked. "I don't even know what you need!" I yelled back. She pursed her lips and gave a slight frown. "Do you not think it strange that we look so similar, you and I?" I didn't have a clue what she was talking about. As far as I could tell, I wasn't part snake. "We were once like you. Once, a very long time ago." She looked off into nothing. "Once, we may have been considered beautiful." "But what do you need me for? I have no idea what you're talking about. What do you mean with 'Son of Zeus'?" I shot of questions rapid-fire. It was clear she didn't want to kill me, or I'd already be pushing up daisies. Did she want to harm me, and if so why wasn't I tied up somewhere? "Have you heard the legend of Queen Lamia?" she asked me. I had never heard the name before. All my mythology knowledge came from fiction, and I had no idea what parts were accurate or not. "Queen Lamia was one of Zeus' mistresses. Hera, his ever jealous wife, cursed Queen Lamia to have the body of a snake. We mean to take our revenge." She explained all of this calmly. She sounded like the teacher of a rowdy classroom that rarely stayed quiet for long. "Now if you'd like to discuss business, please accompany me to the dining room." I followed her, wondering what would happen next.	The depth of the queens bow seemed unnatural for a being of her age. To be honest, I have no real understanding of their physical decline with age, but up until this point, the aliens have been very similar to us in every aspect. The only true difference had been their culture, which had many aspects truly confusing to me. As the queen ascended from her bow, I could not help but feeling an uneasy feeling throughout my body. Why was I bestowed this honor? It quickly became apparent that the gesture from the queen, was not pleasant one. As she finally stood upright again, she pointed at me and spoke a few words in their native language. As her words stopped and a deafening silence spread across the enormous crowd. Her guards moved towards me with a pace that made it impossible for the human guards to do anything about it. In the arms of the alien guards I got dragged to the stage, too scared to move. The pressure from the guards hold, was at the brink of breaking my bones, but I was unable to scream. At the center of the stage the guards brought me to my knees by putting presses on the backside of my knees. It felt like I was nailed to the stage, unable to get up, like I had been glued to the metallic floor covering the stage. The queen had made the way to the stage herself. The face I had looked at with admiration only moments before, had now been replaced with fear. I had no idea what was happening, and why my fate had put me on this stage in this moment. In reality I did not get a lot of time to think about it because with a few more alien words from the queen her guards grabbed me once again. This time they used forced beyond human imagination, from the moment they touch my arms and legs, I was in unbearable pain. The guard who broke my arms in multiple place did so like he was crumbling a piece of paper containing something of no value. The one who broke my legs did it slowly, like he enjoyed it, as if he were taking smaller bites of he favorite meal, just to enjoy it for longer. Every crack of my bones echoed in my head, shooting the pain back and forth between my limbs. When the guards stopped and stepped away, I was left at the center of the stage, crumbled up as a piece of garbage, just waiting to get thrown in the bin. I was slowly drifting away, the pain too intense to keep my either awake or alive, but before I was released from reality and saved by the ultimate sleep the queen turned around and addressed the crowed once again, who had looked upon this horrible display in complete silence. She began speaking in perfect English. “People of Earth, it is my pleasure welcoming you to the beginning of a new age, under my leadership. Fear not, if only you listen to my command you will not end up like your fellow human on this stage!” She let out a little rasp laugh “But as a small reminder, we should let this guy live.” The crowd let out a sigh of relief, but that was before they knew what the queen meant. The queen turned around and looked at me. I was almost unable to see her anymore, my sight had become blurred and it was evident that soon everything would be dark. The queen took a few slow steps towards me and bent down, kissed me on the lips and whispered in my ears “Immortality, a thing every human strive towards, but never did you realize it would be so unbecoming”. She stood up again, and without another word she and her guards left the stage. Slowly but steadily the awareness of my surroundings came back to me, and so my pain. Unable to move my crushed body all I could do was feel pain. Pain that with my newly aquired immortality would never stop.
[WP] Earth has made contact with an alien race. There is a big event where earth's world leaders are meeting the alien queen publicly. You are in the crowd to watch the historical event. When the queen suddenly spots you, she disregards all protocol, comes to you and bows deeply.	I sat back in the crowd of of millions upon of millions of people, awaiting the alien queens arrival. Some people gleamed in excitement, while others quelled in fear. Me? I was pretty indifferent about these aliens coming to visit our planet for the first time, and I don’t care care if they enslave us, or if they welcome us into some sort of intergalactic federation or whatever. The worlds top political leaders all stood front and center in this rural field located in the panhandle region of Oklahoma. I found it funny, in a way, because instead of choosing a major global center of culture, technology, and economic development like New York, London, Paris, Moscow, Shanghai, or Tokyo, the aliens had chosen this insignificant field in Oklahoma located near the insignificant little town that I lived in. “Look, it’s the alien ship!” Someone shouted. The crowd erupted into a frenzy, with some cheering, and some fearing the absolute worst. I just watched and carefully observed the ship descending onto the field. It was a large ship, larger than anything I had ever seen before. The Alien queen came out of her ship, and observed the scene. Then she locked her eyes on me. She made her way through the sea of people and up to me. I figured this was it, and she would use me as a sacrificial lamb for the eventual alien takeover of our world. But what she did next stunned me. She bowed deeply before me. The leader of the most powerful and advanced civilization in the entire universe, bowing down to me, a 18 year old from Liberal, Kansas working a dead end job delivering pizzas for Pizza Hut. She gave a simple hand gesture to me signaling to follow her, and I followed her lead. We entered the elaborate spaceship, and flew away into space. We sat there in awkward silence for a moment, before I decided to start asking questions. “Where are taking me?”I asked. About another minute passed by before she broke her silence. “Well, I saw you out in the crowd, and I immediately knew you were the perfect match for me,” she responded in fluent English. “I’m sorry, what are you talking about? I have no idea what’s going on here.” “Well, every queen needs her king, right? Think about it Michael, you can leave behind your miserable life on Earth of delivering pizzas and being alone, and all you have to is agree to be with me.” “Ho-How do you know my name?” I asked back quietly. “Come on, I’m the leader of the most powerful and intelligent civilization in the universe. I can read minds and travel across the entire universe in the span of a couple days for crying out loud!” “All I do is deliver pizzas working for minimum wage, live alone, and my depression just keeps getting worse and worse.” “Well, not for long. But before all that, I want to ask you one important question: Why do you think I took you from your planet to be with me?” I thought long and hard about this question. Why would the queen of the universe want to marry a 18 year old pizza delivery driver from Earth. It didn’t add up. I looked around the luxurious and lavish interior thinking long and hard about this one, but no answers popped up in my head. “Um, I don’t know. Why did you?” ”Well, I’m not exactly sure why I did either. Something just pulled me towards you, and I went with my instincts. I’m only 18 myself, and just became queen last month after my father died unexpectedly. I’m going to need some help being leader of the universe, and I guess you could help me with that.” “I don’t know the first thing about leadership,” I responded. I was very surprised that she would trust me with this monumental task. “I don’t really know that much about it either, but I guess it’ll be a learning experience, for the both of us.” ____________________________________________________ Thanks for reading this! I would love some feedback, and definitely tell me what I need to improve on as a writer. This is only my 4th or 5th submission here, so that would be much appreciated!	I had always been interested in what was out there in the stars I had never believed that we would find intelligent life, but I guess I was wrong. After discovering that English was a an actual "universal language" the UN decided to host the leader of the aliens. For some reason the meeting was heal public, and all were welcome to come and see. &#x200B; I had gotten to the meeting spot before even the media did. I wanted a good sight, so I had gone a day early. I was quite surprised that they let me stay there. &#x200B; Nothing interesting happened during the start of the meet, all the major world leaders had gathered along with the queen of the other life form. Nothing of any particular interest was happening, just boring stuff about technology and whatever. It was about two hours in, when the leaders had all gone on for a little break. Most of the world leaders were greeting people at the fence, the queen was looking around, probably getting a glimpse of the New York skyline or the Statue of Liberty. &#x200B; After being up for more than 36 hours I felt my eyes getting weak. My energy drinks must have wore out. I put my earbud in, set the alarm for 20 minutes, and put my head down on the barrier. Before I fall asleep, I wake up to the sound of what I assumed were a million gasps, had the oxygen killed the queen? I open my eyes. &#x200B; The queen is on a kneel, bowing, to me. In my sleep deprived state I manage to mutter "uhh.. miss, are you OK?" not being able to fully comprehend what was going on. The queen spoke "You still are around! Dear King, we've missed you for so long." I go to smash my head against the barrier, I have to be dreaming, and I want OUT, but before I get the chance the queen stops me. "Dear King, I'm sorry my presence has caused you this much grief, shall I rid myself of your sight?" I do manage to mutter "wait" somehow. What the heck is happening? &#x200B; Before I even get the chance to comprehend what is going on, I see what must have been the entire Secrete Service, Army, Navy, Air-force, Coast Guard, National Guard, and whatever other military personalle that was there forcing the crowd out. &#x200B; I then pass out. &#x200B; &#x200B; I wake up in a bed I'm not familiar with, in a room I'm not familiar with. The bed I'm in is deferentially worthy of kings in movies. "You are up, good morning master!" I hear an unknown voice say. "Where am I..?" I manage to stutter out. "Why this is your room" the voice calls out. I finally get the courage to sit up, to a scene I didn't know how to process first, the room I'm in is huge, there are about 6 people on either side of the walls, with a huge 2 door entryway. I go to get out of bed, the covers are pulled off for me while I get out of bed, and neatly placed back when I exit it. "Good morning master" one of the I'm assuming servants says, with a cheerful smile. "Good Morning" I manage to spit out. As I head to the doors to go and try to make sense of what is happening, they are opened for me. "Thank you" I reply. "Y-You don't need to thank me!" I hear the assumed servant reply. I do nothing besides smile, what else can I do? &#x200B; I'm greeted by the queen that was present at the world meetings. "Good morning King, are you feeling better." "Yes I am, thank you for asking." I'm lead down a huge staircase and lead to a dining hall. There I am greeted to a massive breakfast that looks like it just came out of the frying pan. &#x200B; The meal was great, I learned that the alien race had taken on human forms so I wouldn't be startled by them. I also learned a lot about the history (and why I became king). &#x200B; I was very skeptical about the whole thing, maybe she has the wrong person, maybe she has mistaken me for someone else, but in the end it is hard to resist everyone saying: &#x200B; "Welcome back to your kingdom, master!" &#x200B; That was the beginning of how I became the leader of an alien race. I cleared up things with Humanity back on earth (they probably just accepted it because we were WAY ahead of them). As it turns out we weren't the only two lifeforms either, we met other alien races and formed a lot of good alliances. &#x200B; The universe had entered a new stage of existence. &#x200B; \-------------------------------- Thanks for reading, hopefully you enjoyed. Feel free to leave any feedback if you'd like. &#x200B; This is also like my 2nd or 3rd submission here, so if it isn't perfect, please help me improve.
[WP] Earth has made contact with an alien race. There is a big event where earth's world leaders are meeting the alien queen publicly. You are in the crowd to watch the historical event. When the queen suddenly spots you, she disregards all protocol, comes to you and bows deeply.	"Deepest apologies Descendant, I did not know you would attend the ceremony. The safety of my people was guaranteed all those years ago when your went after the Other and chased it out of our system." the being said unto me. She rose. "On behalf of the Norma, I thank you. We still mourn the millions that returned to the center." I was frozen in place, feeling the eyes of everyone the world on me as if they were spears stuck on the back of my head. In a second, I lost track of where my stomach was, and yet I attempted to pry some words off my throat. Then she rose, and as she did she spoke again, in those dulcet tones that I could feel resonating all the way inside my ears. "Now, tell me, how will you deal with its reincarnation this time?"	I had always been interested in what was out there in the stars I had never believed that we would find intelligent life, but I guess I was wrong. After discovering that English was a an actual "universal language" the UN decided to host the leader of the aliens. For some reason the meeting was heal public, and all were welcome to come and see. &#x200B; I had gotten to the meeting spot before even the media did. I wanted a good sight, so I had gone a day early. I was quite surprised that they let me stay there. &#x200B; Nothing interesting happened during the start of the meet, all the major world leaders had gathered along with the queen of the other life form. Nothing of any particular interest was happening, just boring stuff about technology and whatever. It was about two hours in, when the leaders had all gone on for a little break. Most of the world leaders were greeting people at the fence, the queen was looking around, probably getting a glimpse of the New York skyline or the Statue of Liberty. &#x200B; After being up for more than 36 hours I felt my eyes getting weak. My energy drinks must have wore out. I put my earbud in, set the alarm for 20 minutes, and put my head down on the barrier. Before I fall asleep, I wake up to the sound of what I assumed were a million gasps, had the oxygen killed the queen? I open my eyes. &#x200B; The queen is on a kneel, bowing, to me. In my sleep deprived state I manage to mutter "uhh.. miss, are you OK?" not being able to fully comprehend what was going on. The queen spoke "You still are around! Dear King, we've missed you for so long." I go to smash my head against the barrier, I have to be dreaming, and I want OUT, but before I get the chance the queen stops me. "Dear King, I'm sorry my presence has caused you this much grief, shall I rid myself of your sight?" I do manage to mutter "wait" somehow. What the heck is happening? &#x200B; Before I even get the chance to comprehend what is going on, I see what must have been the entire Secrete Service, Army, Navy, Air-force, Coast Guard, National Guard, and whatever other military personalle that was there forcing the crowd out. &#x200B; I then pass out. &#x200B; &#x200B; I wake up in a bed I'm not familiar with, in a room I'm not familiar with. The bed I'm in is deferentially worthy of kings in movies. "You are up, good morning master!" I hear an unknown voice say. "Where am I..?" I manage to stutter out. "Why this is your room" the voice calls out. I finally get the courage to sit up, to a scene I didn't know how to process first, the room I'm in is huge, there are about 6 people on either side of the walls, with a huge 2 door entryway. I go to get out of bed, the covers are pulled off for me while I get out of bed, and neatly placed back when I exit it. "Good morning master" one of the I'm assuming servants says, with a cheerful smile. "Good Morning" I manage to spit out. As I head to the doors to go and try to make sense of what is happening, they are opened for me. "Thank you" I reply. "Y-You don't need to thank me!" I hear the assumed servant reply. I do nothing besides smile, what else can I do? &#x200B; I'm greeted by the queen that was present at the world meetings. "Good morning King, are you feeling better." "Yes I am, thank you for asking." I'm lead down a huge staircase and lead to a dining hall. There I am greeted to a massive breakfast that looks like it just came out of the frying pan. &#x200B; The meal was great, I learned that the alien race had taken on human forms so I wouldn't be startled by them. I also learned a lot about the history (and why I became king). &#x200B; I was very skeptical about the whole thing, maybe she has the wrong person, maybe she has mistaken me for someone else, but in the end it is hard to resist everyone saying: &#x200B; "Welcome back to your kingdom, master!" &#x200B; That was the beginning of how I became the leader of an alien race. I cleared up things with Humanity back on earth (they probably just accepted it because we were WAY ahead of them). As it turns out we weren't the only two lifeforms either, we met other alien races and formed a lot of good alliances. &#x200B; The universe had entered a new stage of existence. &#x200B; \-------------------------------- Thanks for reading, hopefully you enjoyed. Feel free to leave any feedback if you'd like. &#x200B; This is also like my 2nd or 3rd submission here, so if it isn't perfect, please help me improve.
[WP] Earth has made contact with an alien race. There is a big event where earth's world leaders are meeting the alien queen publicly. You are in the crowd to watch the historical event. When the queen suddenly spots you, she disregards all protocol, comes to you and bows deeply.	There were dozens of people. Washington DC was packed to the brim for this event. Presidential inaugurations had a fraction of today's turnout, and traffic was a catastrophe getting here. I was in the middle of a group of what felt like millions of people, and for all I knew, I was. For all the noise that could typically be made with such a massive number of people, it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. People were waiting for an alien monarch to meet with the U.S. President. Allegedly, this alien queen was meeting the world leaders separately in front of large crowds as a show of good faith to the people of these countries, and there were very few leaders who turned her down. "Ladies and gentlemen," an announcer began. Nobody could hear anything else as the crowd's excitement exploded and drowned him out. Suddenly, a strange figure exited Capitol Hill. It was impossible to make out their appearance. The figure was clearly taller than any person. Televisions that were visible made it out to be between seven and eight feet tall. Then they zoomed in on her face. This was the alien queen. She was tall and pale, though her lack of legs made her height difficult to judge. She looked almost like a cross between a snake and a person. Her appearance was very similar that of a naga. She was very humanoid in her upper body, save for the scales in places. Her lower body was almost purely that of a snake, the only exception i could see were some frills nearer to her lower back. Her scales were almost piercingly white. It was almost painful to look at her through the screen. As I turned my attention to her in-person, she was shaking the hands of the president, and as she approached the microphone to do her speech for the crowd, she eyes over us before locking eyes with me. Her expression completely shifts. The frills on her back and tail flare up, she motions to what looks like her own kind of secret service and points in my direction. They nod and disappear. She whispers to the president and he seems to nod understandingly, though his expression was one of confusion. The president steps up to the podium and says, "Apologies, everybody. She will be making her speech shortly, but it seems a small matter has come up." People start shuffling, with some outcry. Most people figured that they've waited this long, they can wait just a bit longer. I suddenly have a very bad feeling. I couldn't shake this feeling that she was motioning to me specifically. I could almost feel her stare as I began to shake. Suddenly there were some cries from the front of the crowd. The other aliens she had motioned to were clearing a path for her through the crowd. Her eyes never left me, and I couldn't seem to move. Soon, she was right in front of me, her two guards were massive compared to her, and she was already large compared to the average person. I thought I had done something that had offended her, but then she did the unthinkable, and bowed before me, along with her two guards. Something about the way that their bodies would stay balanced despite the humanoid parts of their bodies being bent ninety degrees shocked me. I was so overcome with shock that I dropped to my knees, and began to bow even deeper. I didn't understand what was going on but I certainly wasn't going to be seen as disrespectful. I did not want to be the guy who got Earth into an intergalactic war because some snake lady wanted to test some random guy in the crowd. "Why do you bow, son of Zeus?" I heard from the queen. I had never heard her voice before, but there was no mistaking it. If her otherworldly accent didn't give her away, it was very clear that she had the voice of a commander. The guards at her flanks looked at me quizzically. "W-what?" I stammered. The queen's eyes widened. Her pupils expanded like a cat that's spotted prey, and she started saying something to herself in another language. She motioned for her two guards. They slithered forward to grab me. I panicked, but I couldn't scream. They lifted me up by my arms, with each of them grabbing one. The queen pulled out a round little device and threw it to the ground. In a flash of white, I was transported to a strange looking room. I panicked, I started kicking and thrashing to get these massive beasts to let go of me. I started shouting and screaming for them to let me go. I was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, and began to look around for any sort of exit. I saw what looked like a rounded hallway and began to bolt towards it. Before I could make it out an energy barrier appeared in what appeared to be the doorframe to the hallway. I stopped and turned to face my abductors. They looked more confused than anything else. As though they couldn't understand why I was so terrified. "Would you like to know why you're here, or are you going to keep screaming?" the queen asked rather calmly. My heart was still racing. I couldn't see any sort of escape, as there only seemed to be one way out of the room, and the two pillars that flanked what looked like a throne in the center of the room didn't seem to have any other use. I nodded slowly. "We've been looking for you. Rather, we've been looking for any of you. You are the descendant of Zeus." I gave her a blank stare. I believed in no gods, and followed no faith. Zeus was a far cry from even having a proper religion these days, let alone any churches or active worshipers. "We need you to help us. Are you ready to help?" she asked. "I don't even know what you need!" I yelled back. She pursed her lips and gave a slight frown. "Do you not think it strange that we look so similar, you and I?" I didn't have a clue what she was talking about. As far as I could tell, I wasn't part snake. "We were once like you. Once, a very long time ago." She looked off into nothing. "Once, we may have been considered beautiful." "But what do you need me for? I have no idea what you're talking about. What do you mean with 'Son of Zeus'?" I shot of questions rapid-fire. It was clear she didn't want to kill me, or I'd already be pushing up daisies. Did she want to harm me, and if so why wasn't I tied up somewhere? "Have you heard the legend of Queen Lamia?" she asked me. I had never heard the name before. All my mythology knowledge came from fiction, and I had no idea what parts were accurate or not. "Queen Lamia was one of Zeus' mistresses. Hera, his ever jealous wife, cursed Queen Lamia to have the body of a snake. We mean to take our revenge." She explained all of this calmly. She sounded like the teacher of a rowdy classroom that rarely stayed quiet for long. "Now if you'd like to discuss business, please accompany me to the dining room." I followed her, wondering what would happen next.	I had always been interested in what was out there in the stars I had never believed that we would find intelligent life, but I guess I was wrong. After discovering that English was a an actual "universal language" the UN decided to host the leader of the aliens. For some reason the meeting was heal public, and all were welcome to come and see. &#x200B; I had gotten to the meeting spot before even the media did. I wanted a good sight, so I had gone a day early. I was quite surprised that they let me stay there. &#x200B; Nothing interesting happened during the start of the meet, all the major world leaders had gathered along with the queen of the other life form. Nothing of any particular interest was happening, just boring stuff about technology and whatever. It was about two hours in, when the leaders had all gone on for a little break. Most of the world leaders were greeting people at the fence, the queen was looking around, probably getting a glimpse of the New York skyline or the Statue of Liberty. &#x200B; After being up for more than 36 hours I felt my eyes getting weak. My energy drinks must have wore out. I put my earbud in, set the alarm for 20 minutes, and put my head down on the barrier. Before I fall asleep, I wake up to the sound of what I assumed were a million gasps, had the oxygen killed the queen? I open my eyes. &#x200B; The queen is on a kneel, bowing, to me. In my sleep deprived state I manage to mutter "uhh.. miss, are you OK?" not being able to fully comprehend what was going on. The queen spoke "You still are around! Dear King, we've missed you for so long." I go to smash my head against the barrier, I have to be dreaming, and I want OUT, but before I get the chance the queen stops me. "Dear King, I'm sorry my presence has caused you this much grief, shall I rid myself of your sight?" I do manage to mutter "wait" somehow. What the heck is happening? &#x200B; Before I even get the chance to comprehend what is going on, I see what must have been the entire Secrete Service, Army, Navy, Air-force, Coast Guard, National Guard, and whatever other military personalle that was there forcing the crowd out. &#x200B; I then pass out. &#x200B; &#x200B; I wake up in a bed I'm not familiar with, in a room I'm not familiar with. The bed I'm in is deferentially worthy of kings in movies. "You are up, good morning master!" I hear an unknown voice say. "Where am I..?" I manage to stutter out. "Why this is your room" the voice calls out. I finally get the courage to sit up, to a scene I didn't know how to process first, the room I'm in is huge, there are about 6 people on either side of the walls, with a huge 2 door entryway. I go to get out of bed, the covers are pulled off for me while I get out of bed, and neatly placed back when I exit it. "Good morning master" one of the I'm assuming servants says, with a cheerful smile. "Good Morning" I manage to spit out. As I head to the doors to go and try to make sense of what is happening, they are opened for me. "Thank you" I reply. "Y-You don't need to thank me!" I hear the assumed servant reply. I do nothing besides smile, what else can I do? &#x200B; I'm greeted by the queen that was present at the world meetings. "Good morning King, are you feeling better." "Yes I am, thank you for asking." I'm lead down a huge staircase and lead to a dining hall. There I am greeted to a massive breakfast that looks like it just came out of the frying pan. &#x200B; The meal was great, I learned that the alien race had taken on human forms so I wouldn't be startled by them. I also learned a lot about the history (and why I became king). &#x200B; I was very skeptical about the whole thing, maybe she has the wrong person, maybe she has mistaken me for someone else, but in the end it is hard to resist everyone saying: &#x200B; "Welcome back to your kingdom, master!" &#x200B; That was the beginning of how I became the leader of an alien race. I cleared up things with Humanity back on earth (they probably just accepted it because we were WAY ahead of them). As it turns out we weren't the only two lifeforms either, we met other alien races and formed a lot of good alliances. &#x200B; The universe had entered a new stage of existence. &#x200B; \-------------------------------- Thanks for reading, hopefully you enjoyed. Feel free to leave any feedback if you'd like. &#x200B; This is also like my 2nd or 3rd submission here, so if it isn't perfect, please help me improve.
[WP] Earth has made contact with an alien race. There is a big event where earth's world leaders are meeting the alien queen publicly. You are in the crowd to watch the historical event. When the queen suddenly spots you, she disregards all protocol, comes to you and bows deeply.	"Deepest apologies Descendant, I did not know you would attend the ceremony. The safety of my people was guaranteed all those years ago when your went after the Other and chased it out of our system." the being said unto me. She rose. "On behalf of the Norma, I thank you. We still mourn the millions that returned to the center." I was frozen in place, feeling the eyes of everyone the world on me as if they were spears stuck on the back of my head. In a second, I lost track of where my stomach was, and yet I attempted to pry some words off my throat. Then she rose, and as she did she spoke again, in those dulcet tones that I could feel resonating all the way inside my ears. "Now, tell me, how will you deal with its reincarnation this time?"	I sat back in the crowd of of millions upon of millions of people, awaiting the alien queens arrival. Some people gleamed in excitement, while others quelled in fear. Me? I was pretty indifferent about these aliens coming to visit our planet for the first time, and I don’t care care if they enslave us, or if they welcome us into some sort of intergalactic federation or whatever. The worlds top political leaders all stood front and center in this rural field located in the panhandle region of Oklahoma. I found it funny, in a way, because instead of choosing a major global center of culture, technology, and economic development like New York, London, Paris, Moscow, Shanghai, or Tokyo, the aliens had chosen this insignificant field in Oklahoma located near the insignificant little town that I lived in. “Look, it’s the alien ship!” Someone shouted. The crowd erupted into a frenzy, with some cheering, and some fearing the absolute worst. I just watched and carefully observed the ship descending onto the field. It was a large ship, larger than anything I had ever seen before. The Alien queen came out of her ship, and observed the scene. Then she locked her eyes on me. She made her way through the sea of people and up to me. I figured this was it, and she would use me as a sacrificial lamb for the eventual alien takeover of our world. But what she did next stunned me. She bowed deeply before me. The leader of the most powerful and advanced civilization in the entire universe, bowing down to me, a 18 year old from Liberal, Kansas working a dead end job delivering pizzas for Pizza Hut. She gave a simple hand gesture to me signaling to follow her, and I followed her lead. We entered the elaborate spaceship, and flew away into space. We sat there in awkward silence for a moment, before I decided to start asking questions. “Where are taking me?”I asked. About another minute passed by before she broke her silence. “Well, I saw you out in the crowd, and I immediately knew you were the perfect match for me,” she responded in fluent English. “I’m sorry, what are you talking about? I have no idea what’s going on here.” “Well, every queen needs her king, right? Think about it Michael, you can leave behind your miserable life on Earth of delivering pizzas and being alone, and all you have to is agree to be with me.” “Ho-How do you know my name?” I asked back quietly. “Come on, I’m the leader of the most powerful and intelligent civilization in the universe. I can read minds and travel across the entire universe in the span of a couple days for crying out loud!” “All I do is deliver pizzas working for minimum wage, live alone, and my depression just keeps getting worse and worse.” “Well, not for long. But before all that, I want to ask you one important question: Why do you think I took you from your planet to be with me?” I thought long and hard about this question. Why would the queen of the universe want to marry a 18 year old pizza delivery driver from Earth. It didn’t add up. I looked around the luxurious and lavish interior thinking long and hard about this one, but no answers popped up in my head. “Um, I don’t know. Why did you?” ”Well, I’m not exactly sure why I did either. Something just pulled me towards you, and I went with my instincts. I’m only 18 myself, and just became queen last month after my father died unexpectedly. I’m going to need some help being leader of the universe, and I guess you could help me with that.” “I don’t know the first thing about leadership,” I responded. I was very surprised that she would trust me with this monumental task. “I don’t really know that much about it either, but I guess it’ll be a learning experience, for the both of us.” ____________________________________________________ Thanks for reading this! I would love some feedback, and definitely tell me what I need to improve on as a writer. This is only my 4th or 5th submission here, so that would be much appreciated!
[WP] Earth has made contact with an alien race. There is a big event where earth's world leaders are meeting the alien queen publicly. You are in the crowd to watch the historical event. When the queen suddenly spots you, she disregards all protocol, comes to you and bows deeply.	There were dozens of people. Washington DC was packed to the brim for this event. Presidential inaugurations had a fraction of today's turnout, and traffic was a catastrophe getting here. I was in the middle of a group of what felt like millions of people, and for all I knew, I was. For all the noise that could typically be made with such a massive number of people, it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. People were waiting for an alien monarch to meet with the U.S. President. Allegedly, this alien queen was meeting the world leaders separately in front of large crowds as a show of good faith to the people of these countries, and there were very few leaders who turned her down. "Ladies and gentlemen," an announcer began. Nobody could hear anything else as the crowd's excitement exploded and drowned him out. Suddenly, a strange figure exited Capitol Hill. It was impossible to make out their appearance. The figure was clearly taller than any person. Televisions that were visible made it out to be between seven and eight feet tall. Then they zoomed in on her face. This was the alien queen. She was tall and pale, though her lack of legs made her height difficult to judge. She looked almost like a cross between a snake and a person. Her appearance was very similar that of a naga. She was very humanoid in her upper body, save for the scales in places. Her lower body was almost purely that of a snake, the only exception i could see were some frills nearer to her lower back. Her scales were almost piercingly white. It was almost painful to look at her through the screen. As I turned my attention to her in-person, she was shaking the hands of the president, and as she approached the microphone to do her speech for the crowd, she eyes over us before locking eyes with me. Her expression completely shifts. The frills on her back and tail flare up, she motions to what looks like her own kind of secret service and points in my direction. They nod and disappear. She whispers to the president and he seems to nod understandingly, though his expression was one of confusion. The president steps up to the podium and says, "Apologies, everybody. She will be making her speech shortly, but it seems a small matter has come up." People start shuffling, with some outcry. Most people figured that they've waited this long, they can wait just a bit longer. I suddenly have a very bad feeling. I couldn't shake this feeling that she was motioning to me specifically. I could almost feel her stare as I began to shake. Suddenly there were some cries from the front of the crowd. The other aliens she had motioned to were clearing a path for her through the crowd. Her eyes never left me, and I couldn't seem to move. Soon, she was right in front of me, her two guards were massive compared to her, and she was already large compared to the average person. I thought I had done something that had offended her, but then she did the unthinkable, and bowed before me, along with her two guards. Something about the way that their bodies would stay balanced despite the humanoid parts of their bodies being bent ninety degrees shocked me. I was so overcome with shock that I dropped to my knees, and began to bow even deeper. I didn't understand what was going on but I certainly wasn't going to be seen as disrespectful. I did not want to be the guy who got Earth into an intergalactic war because some snake lady wanted to test some random guy in the crowd. "Why do you bow, son of Zeus?" I heard from the queen. I had never heard her voice before, but there was no mistaking it. If her otherworldly accent didn't give her away, it was very clear that she had the voice of a commander. The guards at her flanks looked at me quizzically. "W-what?" I stammered. The queen's eyes widened. Her pupils expanded like a cat that's spotted prey, and she started saying something to herself in another language. She motioned for her two guards. They slithered forward to grab me. I panicked, but I couldn't scream. They lifted me up by my arms, with each of them grabbing one. The queen pulled out a round little device and threw it to the ground. In a flash of white, I was transported to a strange looking room. I panicked, I started kicking and thrashing to get these massive beasts to let go of me. I started shouting and screaming for them to let me go. I was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, and began to look around for any sort of exit. I saw what looked like a rounded hallway and began to bolt towards it. Before I could make it out an energy barrier appeared in what appeared to be the doorframe to the hallway. I stopped and turned to face my abductors. They looked more confused than anything else. As though they couldn't understand why I was so terrified. "Would you like to know why you're here, or are you going to keep screaming?" the queen asked rather calmly. My heart was still racing. I couldn't see any sort of escape, as there only seemed to be one way out of the room, and the two pillars that flanked what looked like a throne in the center of the room didn't seem to have any other use. I nodded slowly. "We've been looking for you. Rather, we've been looking for any of you. You are the descendant of Zeus." I gave her a blank stare. I believed in no gods, and followed no faith. Zeus was a far cry from even having a proper religion these days, let alone any churches or active worshipers. "We need you to help us. Are you ready to help?" she asked. "I don't even know what you need!" I yelled back. She pursed her lips and gave a slight frown. "Do you not think it strange that we look so similar, you and I?" I didn't have a clue what she was talking about. As far as I could tell, I wasn't part snake. "We were once like you. Once, a very long time ago." She looked off into nothing. "Once, we may have been considered beautiful." "But what do you need me for? I have no idea what you're talking about. What do you mean with 'Son of Zeus'?" I shot of questions rapid-fire. It was clear she didn't want to kill me, or I'd already be pushing up daisies. Did she want to harm me, and if so why wasn't I tied up somewhere? "Have you heard the legend of Queen Lamia?" she asked me. I had never heard the name before. All my mythology knowledge came from fiction, and I had no idea what parts were accurate or not. "Queen Lamia was one of Zeus' mistresses. Hera, his ever jealous wife, cursed Queen Lamia to have the body of a snake. We mean to take our revenge." She explained all of this calmly. She sounded like the teacher of a rowdy classroom that rarely stayed quiet for long. "Now if you'd like to discuss business, please accompany me to the dining room." I followed her, wondering what would happen next.	I sat back in the crowd of of millions upon of millions of people, awaiting the alien queens arrival. Some people gleamed in excitement, while others quelled in fear. Me? I was pretty indifferent about these aliens coming to visit our planet for the first time, and I don’t care care if they enslave us, or if they welcome us into some sort of intergalactic federation or whatever. The worlds top political leaders all stood front and center in this rural field located in the panhandle region of Oklahoma. I found it funny, in a way, because instead of choosing a major global center of culture, technology, and economic development like New York, London, Paris, Moscow, Shanghai, or Tokyo, the aliens had chosen this insignificant field in Oklahoma located near the insignificant little town that I lived in. “Look, it’s the alien ship!” Someone shouted. The crowd erupted into a frenzy, with some cheering, and some fearing the absolute worst. I just watched and carefully observed the ship descending onto the field. It was a large ship, larger than anything I had ever seen before. The Alien queen came out of her ship, and observed the scene. Then she locked her eyes on me. She made her way through the sea of people and up to me. I figured this was it, and she would use me as a sacrificial lamb for the eventual alien takeover of our world. But what she did next stunned me. She bowed deeply before me. The leader of the most powerful and advanced civilization in the entire universe, bowing down to me, a 18 year old from Liberal, Kansas working a dead end job delivering pizzas for Pizza Hut. She gave a simple hand gesture to me signaling to follow her, and I followed her lead. We entered the elaborate spaceship, and flew away into space. We sat there in awkward silence for a moment, before I decided to start asking questions. “Where are taking me?”I asked. About another minute passed by before she broke her silence. “Well, I saw you out in the crowd, and I immediately knew you were the perfect match for me,” she responded in fluent English. “I’m sorry, what are you talking about? I have no idea what’s going on here.” “Well, every queen needs her king, right? Think about it Michael, you can leave behind your miserable life on Earth of delivering pizzas and being alone, and all you have to is agree to be with me.” “Ho-How do you know my name?” I asked back quietly. “Come on, I’m the leader of the most powerful and intelligent civilization in the universe. I can read minds and travel across the entire universe in the span of a couple days for crying out loud!” “All I do is deliver pizzas working for minimum wage, live alone, and my depression just keeps getting worse and worse.” “Well, not for long. But before all that, I want to ask you one important question: Why do you think I took you from your planet to be with me?” I thought long and hard about this question. Why would the queen of the universe want to marry a 18 year old pizza delivery driver from Earth. It didn’t add up. I looked around the luxurious and lavish interior thinking long and hard about this one, but no answers popped up in my head. “Um, I don’t know. Why did you?” ”Well, I’m not exactly sure why I did either. Something just pulled me towards you, and I went with my instincts. I’m only 18 myself, and just became queen last month after my father died unexpectedly. I’m going to need some help being leader of the universe, and I guess you could help me with that.” “I don’t know the first thing about leadership,” I responded. I was very surprised that she would trust me with this monumental task. “I don’t really know that much about it either, but I guess it’ll be a learning experience, for the both of us.” ____________________________________________________ Thanks for reading this! I would love some feedback, and definitely tell me what I need to improve on as a writer. This is only my 4th or 5th submission here, so that would be much appreciated!
[WP] Earth has made contact with an alien race. There is a big event where earth's world leaders are meeting the alien queen publicly. You are in the crowd to watch the historical event. When the queen suddenly spots you, she disregards all protocol, comes to you and bows deeply.	There were dozens of people. Washington DC was packed to the brim for this event. Presidential inaugurations had a fraction of today's turnout, and traffic was a catastrophe getting here. I was in the middle of a group of what felt like millions of people, and for all I knew, I was. For all the noise that could typically be made with such a massive number of people, it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. People were waiting for an alien monarch to meet with the U.S. President. Allegedly, this alien queen was meeting the world leaders separately in front of large crowds as a show of good faith to the people of these countries, and there were very few leaders who turned her down. "Ladies and gentlemen," an announcer began. Nobody could hear anything else as the crowd's excitement exploded and drowned him out. Suddenly, a strange figure exited Capitol Hill. It was impossible to make out their appearance. The figure was clearly taller than any person. Televisions that were visible made it out to be between seven and eight feet tall. Then they zoomed in on her face. This was the alien queen. She was tall and pale, though her lack of legs made her height difficult to judge. She looked almost like a cross between a snake and a person. Her appearance was very similar that of a naga. She was very humanoid in her upper body, save for the scales in places. Her lower body was almost purely that of a snake, the only exception i could see were some frills nearer to her lower back. Her scales were almost piercingly white. It was almost painful to look at her through the screen. As I turned my attention to her in-person, she was shaking the hands of the president, and as she approached the microphone to do her speech for the crowd, she eyes over us before locking eyes with me. Her expression completely shifts. The frills on her back and tail flare up, she motions to what looks like her own kind of secret service and points in my direction. They nod and disappear. She whispers to the president and he seems to nod understandingly, though his expression was one of confusion. The president steps up to the podium and says, "Apologies, everybody. She will be making her speech shortly, but it seems a small matter has come up." People start shuffling, with some outcry. Most people figured that they've waited this long, they can wait just a bit longer. I suddenly have a very bad feeling. I couldn't shake this feeling that she was motioning to me specifically. I could almost feel her stare as I began to shake. Suddenly there were some cries from the front of the crowd. The other aliens she had motioned to were clearing a path for her through the crowd. Her eyes never left me, and I couldn't seem to move. Soon, she was right in front of me, her two guards were massive compared to her, and she was already large compared to the average person. I thought I had done something that had offended her, but then she did the unthinkable, and bowed before me, along with her two guards. Something about the way that their bodies would stay balanced despite the humanoid parts of their bodies being bent ninety degrees shocked me. I was so overcome with shock that I dropped to my knees, and began to bow even deeper. I didn't understand what was going on but I certainly wasn't going to be seen as disrespectful. I did not want to be the guy who got Earth into an intergalactic war because some snake lady wanted to test some random guy in the crowd. "Why do you bow, son of Zeus?" I heard from the queen. I had never heard her voice before, but there was no mistaking it. If her otherworldly accent didn't give her away, it was very clear that she had the voice of a commander. The guards at her flanks looked at me quizzically. "W-what?" I stammered. The queen's eyes widened. Her pupils expanded like a cat that's spotted prey, and she started saying something to herself in another language. She motioned for her two guards. They slithered forward to grab me. I panicked, but I couldn't scream. They lifted me up by my arms, with each of them grabbing one. The queen pulled out a round little device and threw it to the ground. In a flash of white, I was transported to a strange looking room. I panicked, I started kicking and thrashing to get these massive beasts to let go of me. I started shouting and screaming for them to let me go. I was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, and began to look around for any sort of exit. I saw what looked like a rounded hallway and began to bolt towards it. Before I could make it out an energy barrier appeared in what appeared to be the doorframe to the hallway. I stopped and turned to face my abductors. They looked more confused than anything else. As though they couldn't understand why I was so terrified. "Would you like to know why you're here, or are you going to keep screaming?" the queen asked rather calmly. My heart was still racing. I couldn't see any sort of escape, as there only seemed to be one way out of the room, and the two pillars that flanked what looked like a throne in the center of the room didn't seem to have any other use. I nodded slowly. "We've been looking for you. Rather, we've been looking for any of you. You are the descendant of Zeus." I gave her a blank stare. I believed in no gods, and followed no faith. Zeus was a far cry from even having a proper religion these days, let alone any churches or active worshipers. "We need you to help us. Are you ready to help?" she asked. "I don't even know what you need!" I yelled back. She pursed her lips and gave a slight frown. "Do you not think it strange that we look so similar, you and I?" I didn't have a clue what she was talking about. As far as I could tell, I wasn't part snake. "We were once like you. Once, a very long time ago." She looked off into nothing. "Once, we may have been considered beautiful." "But what do you need me for? I have no idea what you're talking about. What do you mean with 'Son of Zeus'?" I shot of questions rapid-fire. It was clear she didn't want to kill me, or I'd already be pushing up daisies. Did she want to harm me, and if so why wasn't I tied up somewhere? "Have you heard the legend of Queen Lamia?" she asked me. I had never heard the name before. All my mythology knowledge came from fiction, and I had no idea what parts were accurate or not. "Queen Lamia was one of Zeus' mistresses. Hera, his ever jealous wife, cursed Queen Lamia to have the body of a snake. We mean to take our revenge." She explained all of this calmly. She sounded like the teacher of a rowdy classroom that rarely stayed quiet for long. "Now if you'd like to discuss business, please accompany me to the dining room." I followed her, wondering what would happen next.	"Deepest apologies Descendant, I did not know you would attend the ceremony. The safety of my people was guaranteed all those years ago when your went after the Other and chased it out of our system." the being said unto me. She rose. "On behalf of the Norma, I thank you. We still mourn the millions that returned to the center." I was frozen in place, feeling the eyes of everyone the world on me as if they were spears stuck on the back of my head. In a second, I lost track of where my stomach was, and yet I attempted to pry some words off my throat. Then she rose, and as she did she spoke again, in those dulcet tones that I could feel resonating all the way inside my ears. "Now, tell me, how will you deal with its reincarnation this time?"
[WP] While dueling the king's champion, he suffered a fatal heart-attack and died, now everyone thinks you're a sorcerer capable of killing people with your mind.	The crowd erupted into startled gasps and whispers. Confused with the lack of death and agony that was promised to me, I peeked over my shield and stared at my opponent. The Grand Knight had stopped, his arms raised above his head, clutching his broadsword with his two mighty hands. His face wore a peculiar expression, as if he was suddenly confused on where he was and what was happening. I rose slowly from my crouched position and lowered my shield. The Knight dropped the sword with a large CLANG, and immediately dropped to his knees. His hands clutching his chest, he sputtered a few unintelligible words as he starred deep into my soul with a pleading look. The light behind his eyes grew dim, and he crumpled dead into a heap of armor at my feet. Silence fell throughout the arena. A slight wind blew, swirling dirt into the air around my feet. The crowd began to whisper again, neighbor turning to neighbor, their faces looking down at me with shocked expressions. My mind began to race. What the hell had happened? I looked to the King, sitting upon his throne in the middle of the stands. His mouth was agape, and his eyes took in the scene before him with such shock and disbelief they were protruding out of his skull. Beside him, the Queen had grown very pale. She looked down at me with a mixture of pure happiness and extreme worry. Evangeline. She was the King’s pride and joy. He had married her when she was only sixteen and he well into his fifties. She was the most beautiful woman in the kingdom, her long raven black hair falling down over her shoulders in ringlets. Her piercing green eyes sparkled as if alight with the fairy fire of legend, and her laugh could charm a bird right from its nest. And though she was wed to the King, her heart would always belong to me. It was a pity, really, that we had been caught. It was rather fun sneaking around the castle at night just to steal a quick kiss. The King would have executed me out right, if he wasn’t such a cruel old bastard. He wanted her to suffer and watch me die in a duel with one of the most powerful knights in the realm. He even taunted me before the match, decreeing in front of everyone that if I were to survive and be the victor he would let me run away with his Queen. And here we were. No one would have expected this. The King’s mouth clamped shut as his shock subsided. He looked at me, his hazel eyes hard as steel. He rose, and pointed down to me, his gnarled finger shaking with rage. “What manner of witchcraft have you placed on my Grand Knight?” I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came. Witchcraft? Is this what they were thinking had happened? I suddenly had an idea. A slow smile crept across my lips, and my eyes bore into the King’s. “Yes, oh wonderful and just sire,” I said, curtseying and bobbing like a young school girl, sweetness dripping from my voice. “’Twas witchcraft that turned your great lumbering knight into a sorry sack of bones. And, if you’re not careful, the same fate may fall upon you should you not keep your word.” Gasps filled the crowd as women clutched the crosses at their neck and men put hands on their sword hilts. Evangeline's eyes narrowed slightly as she tilted her head in curiosity. The King looked down at me, his faced furrowed. “My word?” the King said, his eyes narrowing. “Yes. You promised me your Queen if I were to remain living after this duel did you not?” “Yes…” “And I am indeed standing and breathing am I not?” “Unfortunately.” “Then you must uphold your end of the bargain. If not, I would be very sorry for the good people of this town should the wrath of me and my Master reign down upon them.” The crowd’s worried murmurs rouse considerably louder, with many looking at the King with wary eyes as they waited to see what he would do. Sensing that he might have a riot in his hands, the King frowned. He had little to no protection with him, and it was not an unknown fact that he was not heavily favored amongst his subjects. He did not have to give them much cause for them to over throw him. After what seemed like hours of thinking, the King motioned to his nearest guards. “Take the whore down to the Warlock.” He sneered, never breaking eye contact with me. The guards nodded, and gently guided Evangeline down the steps by the elbows. Stopping within feet of me, I could see the fear that was flashing behind the guards eyes. They were afraid to come near me, afraid that they would suffer the same fate that the Grand Knight had. I smiled back at them, and they both flinched. Evangeline walked the final steps toward me alone, her face breaking out into a broad smile. She could barely contain her happiness as she turned to face the King in the stands. I wrapped an arm around her waist and smiled broadly at the King. “Wise choice your Highness. Your town will live to see another day.” The amount of hatred that was pouring forth from his eyes would have no doubt killed me if it was able. Turning away from the King, I steered Evangeline towards the exit of the arena, walking quickly. Once we were out of view of the crowd, she gripped my hand tightly. “What on earth happened back there?” she asked in an excited whisper. “You know as much as I do, my love.” She was silent for a few moments. “I’m happy you’re alive,” she said quietly as we hurried down the path way towards the courtyard. “I wouldn’t have been able to bear it if I had to watch you suffer.” “Likewise my darling,” I said, squeezing her hand and flashing her a quick smile. She frowned a little. “Did you really have to threaten the townsfolk? My mother was up there.” “Your mother is a clever woman; she knows that witchcraft is a load of crock.” “Either way, she won’t take kindly to you threatening her.” “Well at least I’ll be alive to hear her sweet nagging voice.” She chuckled under her breath. “What will we do now?” “Grab a horse perhaps? Go find another town far away from here? Rebuild our lives?” She squeezed my hand even tighter, a shy smile forming on her lips. We rode far and hard before the darkness descended over the land. As she slept beside me, I couldn’t help but watch the flames of our fire dance in the darkness. The King would come for us. There was no doubt about that. And our life in the upcoming months would be filled with hardship and toil. But sitting there in the flickering light, her head on my lap, I could not help but to filled with such happiness and joy. I was alive. And I was with her. And that’s all that mattered in the world.	Sir Stannis was a strong man,good and honourable but he wasn’t a smart man and at 98 years, just too fucking old, he desired to challenge me to a duel. They had barely got his plate strapped to him when the old man slumped down beside a tree, I hadn’t wanted to see the old man dead but it seems that satin finally wanted to have a little chat. This left in a precarious position, our great king, who let’s be fair is a bigger idiot then he is fat which is quite a feat, has resided that I’m some sort of great sorcerer. If your in any doubt I am not a great sorcerer or even a mediocre one, I’m just a dung shoveler, that slept with the wrong mans wife. I was tasked by our glorious and yet moronic king to kill the duke of flash with my powerful spells and tremendous mental ability, I am not a wizard but I can hit people rather hard with a shovel so my plan was simple. I was going to challenge this duke to a duel them kick his bollocks in and smash his face with the dung shovel, a Machiavellian piece of planning had made this idea watertight, I just needed an obscene amount of luck. The duel was at the same barren deserted field that I had fought sir stannis heartbreak at, nothing had changed apart from the area which the noble knight relived himself at upon his fatal death. The duke of flash was a powerful man, a dashing young night with golden curls and arms like tree trunks, his sword and armour glinted in the early sun, while my shovel and tunic still had shit on them. The Duke flashed like lightning towards me at the count of ten, he moved like a galloping stallion until he hit a patch of brown grass, slipped and bashed his head open upon a suspiciously placed rock. He relived himself and died in that exact same spot, so I began to just invite an enemy’s of the kings to that field at watched the bodies pile high covered in shit.
[WP] There's a new drug with the street name Cosmos. Named so because when you take it, you supposedly traverse the universe and can speak across dimensions to alternate beings. The drug should start working any second.	My friends told me to sit down while I wait, apparently people have a tendency to fall over when it hits. Cosmos seems a lot like DMT but I’ve been assured that it’s “a totally different experience” and “nearly impossible to describe unless you’ve tried it”. Which isn’t a very unique description of a new drug, but we got enough for 5 people for $15 so I wasn’t complaining. James, the most adventurous of us, tried it yesterday. I wasn’t there for it, but he said it was a good time and I trusted him. And while he maddeningly wouldn’t tell us what he saw on his trip, he assured us that it was worth it. I sit for what seems like hours, but as my eyes dart around I notice everyone moving as if in slow motion. I’m not scared, this is the first onset before my sight is supposed to go dark. After that the true journey begins. The edges of my mouth curl up in anticipation, and the edges of my vision start to darken. I try to say to my friends ‘See you on the other side’, but I only get out the first word before suddenly everything goes black. I feel a huge surge of motion as if launched out of my apartment and into the stratosphere, even though logically I know I never left the couch. There’s quick flashes of light on the backs of my eyelids in greys, blues, browns, whites, but nothing concrete enough to make sense of. The surging motion comes to an abrupt halt before resuming at what feels like a walking pace. I open my eyes, but everything is still dark. Blurred images start coming into focus and my other senses kick back in. The first thing I notice is that it’s cold, so very cold. Its spring back home but it feels like the dead of winter wherever I am now. The comfy couch I was on before is no longer soft and welcoming, and the sensation of movement is even stronger. The second thing I notice is that while my sight isn’t back up to snuff yet, my sense of smell sure is, and not a single pleasant or even neutral odor made its way into my nose. I could smell old sweat, animals, and some metallic one that I couldn’t identify. The third thing I notice is the sound of snow crunching under wheels and the soft and consistent pattern of an animal walking. I lift my head and I hear with a dreaded familiarity: “Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there.”	I stared at the vegetation outside, the leaves of trees and bushes shining from the sunlight and being shaken by the breeze. I guess I expected some insight to hit me in the face about nature any minute now. I remembered how when I smoked weed I could never tell when the transition started, where the limit between 'sober' and 'high' became evident. Did tan happen only to me or to everyone else? I remembered how Eric used to say 'Oh it's kicking in' when we smoked together and put his arm over his eyes, so I guess he could tell. Was I going to get a hint on what death was? It would be comforting to know how Eric was doing. I miss him too much. Is death part of the universe at all? I felt stupid thinking about that, and I looked at the sky above the trees so I could concentrate. The trees looked silvery now, but I don't know when that happened. In the sky I could see the sun, but also everything else that was in that direction. There was no filter. I could also see there was a wall behind all of it, but it wasn't a boundary. I could see all the interactions, the quarks exchanging gluons, the electrons and positrons exchanging photons and other bosons. Suddenly I felt the urge to ask a question out loud. I felt someone was listening, but not sure who. "How does it all come together?". I felt the question was stupid. When questions are stupid no one answers. And I heard no answer. Only some sort vibration inside my ear lobes, a very soft vibration. I saw the sky looking back at me and showing me lines sinking around the sun, smaller ones further away, and lines sinking towards the ground. Everything had those lines. I guessed those were the gravitons. There were huge waves as well, travelling past anything without tumbling any planet over. They were really dark, but filled everything and felt apocalyptic. I tried to look at everything at once but my eyes were too small. I knew the effect didn't last very long, so I asked a second question. Why am I me? No one responded because I didn't ask it out loud. I wanted to know but I was scared to know. I got up and walked to the bathroom and stood next to the door, wondering if I should face the mirror. For some reason I had the idea I wouldn't survive this trip, so I took a few steps and looked at myself in the eyes. Then I looked at the rest of myself. All I could see were the results of a very improbable event, of the many attempts to make it not happen, but happened. I understood there was nothing to understand, so I sat on the toilet and waited till the waves and lines and everything else disappeared for good. And I remembered that I forgot to ask about Eric.
[WP] In most of the galaxy adrenaline is a dangerous and highly illegal drug. Humans are an oddity in that we produce it naturally in our bodies.	The translation came through clearly from my voder: 'Is that a real one, mum?' I glanced to the left. It was a juvenile Thraxtl, not a native. Its mother said something about 'strong and dangerous'. On Earth, gravity was heavier than most inhabited planets, so we had a reputation already. 'Is he an addict, then?' The kid had no sense of tact at all. Some things are invariable between species. I turned my head towards the youngster. It was still in its wingless larval form, a burden to its mother even in Noth gravity. My air-mask must have looked a bit intimidating, because it writhed and looped itself around its mother. I quickly turned and walked away. I didn't want trouble. Humans are in a strange position in the Federation. We're the newbies, the latest discovered species, but we're also liquid water-based (minority), evolved on a rocky planet (not a minority) and communicate by sound (which is unusual). We also produce dreechy, as they call it here, which we know as adrenaline. It's the most addictive, borderline toxic substance known to carbon-based life (which is most of them), and fetches a ridiculous price on the black market. I've known women who sold a half-litre of their own blood and went on an interstellar cruise with the proceeds! For some reason there's a belief that females have more of the stuff. Those huge behemoths from Shchuchan, where the water is all liquid methane, can trip on frozen human blood for days on end! 'Harmonious greetings!' The hail must have come from the mottled black, upright-starfish-like thing in front of me. 'I hope you are well?' 'I am,' I replied cautiously. I didn't think these voders could convey meaning in tones, or at least not yet. Not these cheap ones. 'Are you an egg-layer?' 'No,' I replied. What was this about? 'I think you are! Grab it!' And immediately I was grabbed from behind. I felt a thud in my breastplate, a kevlar waistcoat that was standard issue for all humans travelling to Noth cities. The thing was trying to stab a needle into my kidneys! I lashed out sideways and back with my right arm, connecting with something soft and clammy. I whipped around, grabbing a fistful of my assailant. There was a terrible noise, both on my voder and in my ears. The thing was screaming! Without even noticing, I had torn a chunk off the starfish that had tried to stab me! Black blood oozed and vapourised from the fragment. 'RUN! The thing bellowed. 'It's gone mad, it'll kill us all!' There was pandemonium. Every sentient being within earshot (along with any pets they had) took off as fast as their physiology allowed. It wasn't very fast, if I was bent on murder I could have caught and killed most of them. But, I wasn't. I just stood there, bewildered, not knowing whether to stay or go. The police, heavily armed and armoured Nothese, were there in moments. I was arrested, questioned for hours, and released without charge at the end of the day. Of course, I missed the meeting. Simon had to smooth things over with the suppliers, and I didn't make it through my probationary period. So, that was the story of my brief first job off-world.	Galactica Encyclopedia Genus: (Homo) Species: (Sapien) 1 result "Yo Jib-Jab" "What?" "I read the other day on reddit that theres these species of 'sentient bald apes in the \[redacted\] solar system' that produce adrenaline naturally" "Cool" a third male enters."Yo whats up (racial explicative)'s" "(Paul) just said that theres some species that produces adrenaline naturally" "Oh shit man, we should go over there its not far, maybe we could harvest the adrenaline somehow, or just laugh at them constantly tripping out" "Yeah okay" "Uh... sure I got nothing better to do" The trio take a(n) (Uber) to the train station and get a train to the closest stop where they then pick up a for-rent-ship and take off. "Yo (Paul) do you think that they might be aggressive because of the adrenaline?" "Their a completely undocumented species, they're believed to be entering the (Age of the Internet) based on activity signals, handguns should be fine." These were the recordings from (Pauls) home, under (FBI) surveillance, and the rental car, along with sequences filled in, henceafter is deduced from the site of the incident. The trio land \~150 meters away from a home. They walk towards the home where midway through one is shot non-lethally in the (\shoulder), Then a barrage of shots from a predicted two attackers massacred the men. (Homo Sapiens) have been classified as Highly Aggressive and have been avoided from then on. *This has been translated into your native language and dialect ( American-English), \ denotes rough translation of idioms, biological differences ect. report to Galactica Encyclopedia for a better answer.*** My fun homage to Douglas Adams "A Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy". Also is it just me or is half of writing prompts ,popular posts science fiction? Thanks-r/whynotfriendme
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.	With a scholarship that didn't include a room and board stipend, Chad had no housing option but the religious orders. Luckily, he had an ace in the hole. One of his ancestors, perhaps his most famous ancestor, had been a member of one of the orders in the late 20th century. The brothers always respected applicants who could trace their lineage back to prior members, and they put particular weight on those from the before-time. There was no question of his being immediately turned away, but he still had to prove himself. During the period of his initiation, he would have to prove to the brotherhood that he was worthy of being called a brother. They would frequently bring him vials of liquid. Drinking the liquid swiftly and without question, whether it was water, wine or waste it showed humility and that his fate was in the hands of his brothers. At other times they would blindfold him, he was then required to speak enshrined names while the brothers struck him with their fists. Finally, he was made to imbibe the sacramental alcohol, and to recite the revered texts without flaw. His novitiate period was difficult, but he was determined to make it. The brothers all worked on campus, and with their protection he could safely reach the campus as well. He wasn't a particularly spiritual person, but this order was more about the relationship between brothers than about spirituality. One day a brother knocked on the door to his chambers. They bade him come down to the great hall. The brothers were attempting to keep a solemn look, but he thought he caught smiles which were quickly suppressed. The ceremony which followed was brief. It concluded with the [august headgear](https://i.imgur.com/S7EVOxy.jpg) being placed on his head. And with that, Chad Kavanaugh was ordained a Lover of Beer, and a brother of Delta Kappa Epsilon, one of the premier fraternal organizations of Yale university.	Blinking my crusty eyelids to life rays from the massive orange sun cause my pupils to dilate. I can hear cockroaches scurry as I tilt my head, trying to force my body into motion. &nbsp; I begin my morning preparation. Covering myself in a synthetic jelly and scraping off what of it I can. Cockroaches race to the drippings. I try to block from my mind the thought that they’ve been feeding on my dead skin cells during the night. The paste is supposed to reduce the natural human scent, but the waxy paraffin scent of it always makes me gag a bit first thing in the morning. I take my jar of malt-o-meal from the wall and drip what I can from the night’s water condenser onto it before eating. I wonder what this stuff is made of as I stare into the bowl. Different shades of orange and brown mush. Though I can’t complain, it doesn’t get much better than this in the wastes. I start the trek from my shack into town. I can see coyotes running in the distance, like everything here, looking for their next meal. I keep a firm grip on my walking stick. A blade concealed in the foot if ever I find trouble. Luckily I’ve never had to use it on more than a feral dog, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t brandished it before some young men that were looking for an easy target. The sun bakes down hard and I’m glad for the jelly that keeps the orange sun’s rays from mutating my skin. I walk past piles of burning trash as I approach the city. Trash people peak out from behind their hovels as I walk past. Prostitutes, beggars, and hucksters hassle me as I approach the city gates. But I know the routine, no eye contact, no verbal contact. I brush them off and approach the eye. Blue electric lines scan my face as I stand in position. “State identity.” The robotic voice says at the mechanical eye swivels around my head. “Student 2161, Albert.” I say, and a hydraulic door opens into the city. I remember the first time I saw the city. It was like looking onto a whole new world. Electronic screens flash, advertising products, giving warnings, listing bounties, some don’t seem to have any purpose at all. Robots walk the streets doing much the same. But now I don’t find the inside too much different from the outside. The people have the same hot desperation. The hucksters just use more technological techniques to get your money. The prostitutes are only cleaner on the outside. I approach the gate to the school and enter with a nod to the guard. I enter the locker room and pull out my uniform. Blue and gold. Stiff, but still flexible enough to move when you need to. With a look in the mirror and a swipe to put my hair in place I head to the classroom and stand at attention. “TODAY ARE EXAMS.” The sergeant yells. “TODAY’S EXAMS WILL DETERMINE YOUR PLACE IN OUR FORCES, OR THEY WILL DETERMINE YOUR PLACE IN THE WASTES. THERE IS NO OTHER TIME. NOW YOU WILL BEGIN TO ENSURE YOUR PATH TO CITIZENSHIP.” I relax as the sergeant finishes. My indifference is my strength.
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.	5:47. Minutes past daybreak. Rain spatters the windscreen. In the distance, the university spires wind up toward hellish amber skies. I have forgotten what it was like before the storm. For moments I can picture a blue sky, but the memory is always fleeting, like the face of someone you loved a long time ago, or the voice of my mother as she sang Ella Fitzgerald in the loft of our once-Brooklyn apartment: Blue skies Smiling at me Nothing but blue skies Do I see… Over and over: a scratched vinyl skipping back over itself. I can go no further. And in truth, I don’t try to, one verse is pleasant, any more would be painful. Any more and I might start to construct her face — sewing crude fragments of memory into a Frankenstein of what was she. The sound of movement jerks me back to reality. I glance out at the abandoned 7/11: the doorstep of my best friend’s house. Miles is late. He is always late. But today, his lateness is a crime. Today is tryouts. And whoever makes the team gets a spot on campus. Yes. The apocalypse has taken athletic privileges to whole other level. After all, you can’t expect to win nationals if your star Lacrosse player gets devoured by a flesh-eating demon.	Blinking my crusty eyelids to life rays from the massive orange sun cause my pupils to dilate. I can hear cockroaches scurry as I tilt my head, trying to force my body into motion. &nbsp; I begin my morning preparation. Covering myself in a synthetic jelly and scraping off what of it I can. Cockroaches race to the drippings. I try to block from my mind the thought that they’ve been feeding on my dead skin cells during the night. The paste is supposed to reduce the natural human scent, but the waxy paraffin scent of it always makes me gag a bit first thing in the morning. I take my jar of malt-o-meal from the wall and drip what I can from the night’s water condenser onto it before eating. I wonder what this stuff is made of as I stare into the bowl. Different shades of orange and brown mush. Though I can’t complain, it doesn’t get much better than this in the wastes. I start the trek from my shack into town. I can see coyotes running in the distance, like everything here, looking for their next meal. I keep a firm grip on my walking stick. A blade concealed in the foot if ever I find trouble. Luckily I’ve never had to use it on more than a feral dog, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t brandished it before some young men that were looking for an easy target. The sun bakes down hard and I’m glad for the jelly that keeps the orange sun’s rays from mutating my skin. I walk past piles of burning trash as I approach the city. Trash people peak out from behind their hovels as I walk past. Prostitutes, beggars, and hucksters hassle me as I approach the city gates. But I know the routine, no eye contact, no verbal contact. I brush them off and approach the eye. Blue electric lines scan my face as I stand in position. “State identity.” The robotic voice says at the mechanical eye swivels around my head. “Student 2161, Albert.” I say, and a hydraulic door opens into the city. I remember the first time I saw the city. It was like looking onto a whole new world. Electronic screens flash, advertising products, giving warnings, listing bounties, some don’t seem to have any purpose at all. Robots walk the streets doing much the same. But now I don’t find the inside too much different from the outside. The people have the same hot desperation. The hucksters just use more technological techniques to get your money. The prostitutes are only cleaner on the outside. I approach the gate to the school and enter with a nod to the guard. I enter the locker room and pull out my uniform. Blue and gold. Stiff, but still flexible enough to move when you need to. With a look in the mirror and a swipe to put my hair in place I head to the classroom and stand at attention. “TODAY ARE EXAMS.” The sergeant yells. “TODAY’S EXAMS WILL DETERMINE YOUR PLACE IN OUR FORCES, OR THEY WILL DETERMINE YOUR PLACE IN THE WASTES. THERE IS NO OTHER TIME. NOW YOU WILL BEGIN TO ENSURE YOUR PATH TO CITIZENSHIP.” I relax as the sergeant finishes. My indifference is my strength.
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.	"You have final exams today, yes? Did you study enough?" "If I didn't, it's a little late to change that now." "You have your pencils, yes? Did you pack enough for lunch?" "I've got a whole bag of tanglehorn jerky that Mr. Hoppenneimer gave me yesterday." "What about a change of clothes? If you wind up having to cut through the bog your pants will be-" "I'll be fine, Mrs. Petrovich." Mrs. Petrovich stopped fussing with the young man's collar and folded her hands together at her waist with slight embarrassment. Then, feeling awkward, she began smoothing out her wirey grey bun and stared absently at the floor. "Iakov..." She muttered his name in the way she always had when she was worried about him. Jacob had asked her once why she called him that, and she had said that her native pronunciation of his name sounded "stronger." It helped to remind her that he was not a little boy, but becoming a man, though to Jacob it still felt like more of a pet name she used to adress him. He looked at the old woman and felt a touch of guilt. He placed his hands on her shoulders and she lifted her gaze to his. Tired, sunken, hazy-blue eyes that had seen far too much in the 50 years since...well. She had seen a great deal too much evil. Jacob knew this. He had seen it, too, in his comparatively short 19 years. His parents' deaths. Mr. Petrovich's slow consumption by illness. He knew of the death of their only son, Dmitri, long ago, but had never ventured to ask how it had happened. But through it all, Mrs. Petrovich still took care of him, and still stayed strong. It was her strength that had driven Jacob to even try to be better. "You will not be here when you are grown." She had told him once when he was still a boy. "I do not know where you will end up, but it will be better than here. I will do all I can to get you out of this place, my Iakov." "Mrs. Petrovich..." He began, then chewed his lip. "Mom. Im going to be fine." She brightened at that, and pulled him into a hug. "I worry, my Iakov." She said into his chest. "I know," he stroked her back, "thank you." She pushed him away and held him at arms length, "What about ammunition? Have you cleaned the rifle recently? And stakes-" The young man spun around and pointed both thumbs at his backpack. Mr. Petrovich's old military rifle and four fire-hardened wooden stakes hung from loops sewn to either side. "Like I said, I'll be fine." Jacob insisted. At that, three sharp knocks came from the front door. "That'll be Stephen. I have to go." He said, kissing his adoptive mother on the forehead. "Good luck, Iakovsky." She smiled after him. Stephen was waiting on the porch, one leg propped along the railing as he took a long drag grom a cigarette. If Mrs. Petrovich was Jacob's mother, Stephen would be like a brother. Well, perhaps brother was too strong a word. Stephen was around 30 years old now, though most people didn't keep very good track of birthdays anymore. If you asked him, the man would claim he hadn't aged since his 21st birthday, "You're only as old as you think you are!" Jacob cleared his throat and waited. Just as he was about to call out to him, Stephen lazily turned his head, letting a chunk of ash fall to the porch. The man looked Jacob up and down with a slow regard and then asked with a dry throat, "Pants?" Jacob's heart dropped into his stomach. That meant that they would have to detour through the bog. "Can't we take the overpass?" He asked, hopefully. "If we just go up Northpike and cut through the schoolyard-" "Can't. Weather's warming up, so there's a herd of tanglehorn grazing at the schoolyard. Besides, we gotta get you there on time, bright boy." He took another drag from his cigarette and flicked it away. "Well, maybe we could-" "It's the bog." Stephen said with finality. "We've gotta go right through the old park, but we shouldn't need to go by the playground so long as the sun stays out." Jacob shuddered remembering the last time they'd had to pass by that rusty jungle gym and shook his head to get his mind off of it. As the two of them made their way to the gate, people going down the street began waving and cheering him on. Some of the kids ran alongside the two men for a while, asking Jacob if he was going to pass his test and when he would be able to "fix" them, for everyone in the community, even Mrs. Petrovich and Stephen, was a mutant. Some had club feet, others had underdeveloped limbs or one too many. But not Jacob. He was their "perfect posterboy", as Stephen had once put it; a totally ordinary looking person from the community, and the only one who would be allowed to attend the University. The community had raised him well, had taught him all they knew, and finally, on his 18th birthday, representatives from the University came. Growing up, Jacob had often found himself wondering if all anyone saw in him was their chance at a better life, and for a number of them he was sure that all they saw him as was a meal ticket. But that was alright with him. Jacob owed everything to these people, and if his studies could lead to helping those effected by mutation, if he could help make Mrs. Petrovich's life better, he would do so happily. "Jay-coooob~" Some girls called from a balcony, waving and blowing kisses at the pair as they marched down the road. Stephen elbowed him in the chest as Jacob began raising his hand. As the gate came into view, Jacob thought again about their trek to the university. Normally, Stephen would take him up Pelmore Avenue through what remained of the old stadium, and then it was a straight shot across Leaning Bridge to the edge of the city. "Civilization." Jacob thought, though a civilization that didn't accept just anyone. But the Bog was a different story. It had once been a great park, nearly twice the size of Jacob's home. However, that was in the past, and like many things, the park that was once a popular gathering spot for couples and students had devolved into a muggy, muddy, dreary wetland with overgrown reeds and gnarled trees that nobody who had been around 50 years prior could identify. Strange things called that place home now, and even stranger things happened there in the almost omnipresent mist that hung over the place like a cold shroud whenever the sun wasn't out. Jacob once again caught himself thinking back to the jungle gym. "Check." Stephen barked, shaking him from his memory. The two of them gave one another's packs a once over to see if they could find any holes or anything amiss. Satisfied, the two of them slipped out of the gate, leaving the community behind.	Blinking my crusty eyelids to life rays from the massive orange sun cause my pupils to dilate. I can hear cockroaches scurry as I tilt my head, trying to force my body into motion. &nbsp; I begin my morning preparation. Covering myself in a synthetic jelly and scraping off what of it I can. Cockroaches race to the drippings. I try to block from my mind the thought that they’ve been feeding on my dead skin cells during the night. The paste is supposed to reduce the natural human scent, but the waxy paraffin scent of it always makes me gag a bit first thing in the morning. I take my jar of malt-o-meal from the wall and drip what I can from the night’s water condenser onto it before eating. I wonder what this stuff is made of as I stare into the bowl. Different shades of orange and brown mush. Though I can’t complain, it doesn’t get much better than this in the wastes. I start the trek from my shack into town. I can see coyotes running in the distance, like everything here, looking for their next meal. I keep a firm grip on my walking stick. A blade concealed in the foot if ever I find trouble. Luckily I’ve never had to use it on more than a feral dog, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t brandished it before some young men that were looking for an easy target. The sun bakes down hard and I’m glad for the jelly that keeps the orange sun’s rays from mutating my skin. I walk past piles of burning trash as I approach the city. Trash people peak out from behind their hovels as I walk past. Prostitutes, beggars, and hucksters hassle me as I approach the city gates. But I know the routine, no eye contact, no verbal contact. I brush them off and approach the eye. Blue electric lines scan my face as I stand in position. “State identity.” The robotic voice says at the mechanical eye swivels around my head. “Student 2161, Albert.” I say, and a hydraulic door opens into the city. I remember the first time I saw the city. It was like looking onto a whole new world. Electronic screens flash, advertising products, giving warnings, listing bounties, some don’t seem to have any purpose at all. Robots walk the streets doing much the same. But now I don’t find the inside too much different from the outside. The people have the same hot desperation. The hucksters just use more technological techniques to get your money. The prostitutes are only cleaner on the outside. I approach the gate to the school and enter with a nod to the guard. I enter the locker room and pull out my uniform. Blue and gold. Stiff, but still flexible enough to move when you need to. With a look in the mirror and a swipe to put my hair in place I head to the classroom and stand at attention. “TODAY ARE EXAMS.” The sergeant yells. “TODAY’S EXAMS WILL DETERMINE YOUR PLACE IN OUR FORCES, OR THEY WILL DETERMINE YOUR PLACE IN THE WASTES. THERE IS NO OTHER TIME. NOW YOU WILL BEGIN TO ENSURE YOUR PATH TO CITIZENSHIP.” I relax as the sergeant finishes. My indifference is my strength.
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.	With a scholarship that didn't include a room and board stipend, Chad had no housing option but the religious orders. Luckily, he had an ace in the hole. One of his ancestors, perhaps his most famous ancestor, had been a member of one of the orders in the late 20th century. The brothers always respected applicants who could trace their lineage back to prior members, and they put particular weight on those from the before-time. There was no question of his being immediately turned away, but he still had to prove himself. During the period of his initiation, he would have to prove to the brotherhood that he was worthy of being called a brother. They would frequently bring him vials of liquid. Drinking the liquid swiftly and without question, whether it was water, wine or waste it showed humility and that his fate was in the hands of his brothers. At other times they would blindfold him, he was then required to speak enshrined names while the brothers struck him with their fists. Finally, he was made to imbibe the sacramental alcohol, and to recite the revered texts without flaw. His novitiate period was difficult, but he was determined to make it. The brothers all worked on campus, and with their protection he could safely reach the campus as well. He wasn't a particularly spiritual person, but this order was more about the relationship between brothers than about spirituality. One day a brother knocked on the door to his chambers. They bade him come down to the great hall. The brothers were attempting to keep a solemn look, but he thought he caught smiles which were quickly suppressed. The ceremony which followed was brief. It concluded with the [august headgear](https://i.imgur.com/S7EVOxy.jpg) being placed on his head. And with that, Chad Kavanaugh was ordained a Lover of Beer, and a brother of Delta Kappa Epsilon, one of the premier fraternal organizations of Yale university.	Well...."(bad word-F)" universities....about 90 percent of them are just another way to remind you that you are no more than a slave......and talking of post-post apocalyptic world.!!!........there are just 2 possibilities first, we will not be there to witness even after the first catastrophic disaster. Secondly, we already had left the earth. But for the sake of writing..........here we go.... 14 guk 8004, Blackday-q, After the catastrophic eruption of "CUBRE VIEJA" about 7 kjels' ago the earth is covered with about 20 welos thick blanket of dark fog. The temperature has fallen to -28°p. There were few attempts made by us to remove the fog but they made it worse. The radiations from the bombing were too high that some nations totally disappeared as there were no one to save them from the blue fog. After the latest attempt our satellites went out of range and we are no longer using it. To survive this "COLD-HELL" the locals of some vast areas united in order to keep human species alive. For hope and with hope we were able to make under ground farming systems and they are not sufficient to make everyone happy. But the worst of all that happened was the world is now divided in to 2 halves. The first one is on the northern hemisphere and they named them as natives of Australia, which is the derived from the ancient land of Australia. It is believed that about 5000 kjels' from now its was some where in the southern hemisphere. The second part named Us which means "we" although some believed that there was a nations somewhere in ancient time, in about 3500 CV. According to archeologists, its was the most active one in its time. On Blackday-d, An announcement was made, that the leader want all of us to have knowledge and started a university in which respected personalities teach subjects like philosophy, geology, farming, study of numbers and numerous processes of extracting water from different sources. The university was came to act last qeee. Today was my first day at that university. It is like a messy place as everyone is allowed in there. From 8 e.r. to 5 t.r. it remain totally crowdy. But the most challenging part is to make it to the university. I have been assigned a job to keep track of the upcoming storms. So My house is at on a remote mountain near a far dried river. The wasteland around my house is full of octohites. Octohites are small but sticky animals and their primary food source is bone marrow. Thank the Leader, who sucked all of their strength and made them weak. The land around here fell off deep into the core of the mountain and some times balls attack the area. All these things make it difficult to survive here and as a bonus I have to go to university and food supplies through all this hell. So I was going to university at about 9:12 e.r. I picked my tool bag and a scratcher. My dog and brother were alone at home, but there was nothing to worry, so did not think about it much as our house is under military surveillance. I was commuting through and saw a different creature out of the land limit. Land limit is the limit for after which no man is allowed. I was curious, so I followed it. Jumping through the fence which because of cold temperature ,which made it weak, fell off. I named that creature as "rudios". Rudios has wings and a bright tale with change colors according to the surroundings. But unfortunately I scared it and rudios flew some where in the dark sky fog. Just before few welos apart from university I saw my wife in walking out of women's erty. As all the ladies of particular blocks work for easy but demanding jobs and are only allowed to go home after the university is closed. She saw me and burst with joy and as she had not came home since the qeee. Today she was allowed to go home. From there I took her to university. The university was partially under ground and they were using a tower which went into the sky fog to draw power from it. Upon reaching university, we were came to know about something odd. A bad news was there, everyone working at the areas' main power station started to lost their memory and few of them had gone out on the wild lands. The other news we heard their was that someone across the ocean came in recently and they are not from the northern hemisphere. They seemed to have developed indifferent ways to generate power. My class for farming had started by now and with my wife I went to it. The university is also a way to make new links. As living on a remote mountain cuts you off from everyone. By the time the university closes, we picked my brother's wife, through wire train to military base, we went home. It is believed that on 37 opi 8009, blackday-qr, everyone will be saved by the master of the leader who lives up in the sky where the fog ends. _____________________________________________________________ Edit: there are so many mistakes........kindly report them.!! 1Edit: my English is not good......please criticise it..!!!! 127Edit: I feel odd........please make it complex...!!!!! Thanks for wasting time on this......
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.	5:47. Minutes past daybreak. Rain spatters the windscreen. In the distance, the university spires wind up toward hellish amber skies. I have forgotten what it was like before the storm. For moments I can picture a blue sky, but the memory is always fleeting, like the face of someone you loved a long time ago, or the voice of my mother as she sang Ella Fitzgerald in the loft of our once-Brooklyn apartment: Blue skies Smiling at me Nothing but blue skies Do I see… Over and over: a scratched vinyl skipping back over itself. I can go no further. And in truth, I don’t try to, one verse is pleasant, any more would be painful. Any more and I might start to construct her face — sewing crude fragments of memory into a Frankenstein of what was she. The sound of movement jerks me back to reality. I glance out at the abandoned 7/11: the doorstep of my best friend’s house. Miles is late. He is always late. But today, his lateness is a crime. Today is tryouts. And whoever makes the team gets a spot on campus. Yes. The apocalypse has taken athletic privileges to whole other level. After all, you can’t expect to win nationals if your star Lacrosse player gets devoured by a flesh-eating demon.	Well...."(bad word-F)" universities....about 90 percent of them are just another way to remind you that you are no more than a slave......and talking of post-post apocalyptic world.!!!........there are just 2 possibilities first, we will not be there to witness even after the first catastrophic disaster. Secondly, we already had left the earth. But for the sake of writing..........here we go.... 14 guk 8004, Blackday-q, After the catastrophic eruption of "CUBRE VIEJA" about 7 kjels' ago the earth is covered with about 20 welos thick blanket of dark fog. The temperature has fallen to -28°p. There were few attempts made by us to remove the fog but they made it worse. The radiations from the bombing were too high that some nations totally disappeared as there were no one to save them from the blue fog. After the latest attempt our satellites went out of range and we are no longer using it. To survive this "COLD-HELL" the locals of some vast areas united in order to keep human species alive. For hope and with hope we were able to make under ground farming systems and they are not sufficient to make everyone happy. But the worst of all that happened was the world is now divided in to 2 halves. The first one is on the northern hemisphere and they named them as natives of Australia, which is the derived from the ancient land of Australia. It is believed that about 5000 kjels' from now its was some where in the southern hemisphere. The second part named Us which means "we" although some believed that there was a nations somewhere in ancient time, in about 3500 CV. According to archeologists, its was the most active one in its time. On Blackday-d, An announcement was made, that the leader want all of us to have knowledge and started a university in which respected personalities teach subjects like philosophy, geology, farming, study of numbers and numerous processes of extracting water from different sources. The university was came to act last qeee. Today was my first day at that university. It is like a messy place as everyone is allowed in there. From 8 e.r. to 5 t.r. it remain totally crowdy. But the most challenging part is to make it to the university. I have been assigned a job to keep track of the upcoming storms. So My house is at on a remote mountain near a far dried river. The wasteland around my house is full of octohites. Octohites are small but sticky animals and their primary food source is bone marrow. Thank the Leader, who sucked all of their strength and made them weak. The land around here fell off deep into the core of the mountain and some times balls attack the area. All these things make it difficult to survive here and as a bonus I have to go to university and food supplies through all this hell. So I was going to university at about 9:12 e.r. I picked my tool bag and a scratcher. My dog and brother were alone at home, but there was nothing to worry, so did not think about it much as our house is under military surveillance. I was commuting through and saw a different creature out of the land limit. Land limit is the limit for after which no man is allowed. I was curious, so I followed it. Jumping through the fence which because of cold temperature ,which made it weak, fell off. I named that creature as "rudios". Rudios has wings and a bright tale with change colors according to the surroundings. But unfortunately I scared it and rudios flew some where in the dark sky fog. Just before few welos apart from university I saw my wife in walking out of women's erty. As all the ladies of particular blocks work for easy but demanding jobs and are only allowed to go home after the university is closed. She saw me and burst with joy and as she had not came home since the qeee. Today she was allowed to go home. From there I took her to university. The university was partially under ground and they were using a tower which went into the sky fog to draw power from it. Upon reaching university, we were came to know about something odd. A bad news was there, everyone working at the areas' main power station started to lost their memory and few of them had gone out on the wild lands. The other news we heard their was that someone across the ocean came in recently and they are not from the northern hemisphere. They seemed to have developed indifferent ways to generate power. My class for farming had started by now and with my wife I went to it. The university is also a way to make new links. As living on a remote mountain cuts you off from everyone. By the time the university closes, we picked my brother's wife, through wire train to military base, we went home. It is believed that on 37 opi 8009, blackday-qr, everyone will be saved by the master of the leader who lives up in the sky where the fog ends. _____________________________________________________________ Edit: there are so many mistakes........kindly report them.!! 1Edit: my English is not good......please criticise it..!!!! 127Edit: I feel odd........please make it complex...!!!!! Thanks for wasting time on this......
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.	"You have final exams today, yes? Did you study enough?" "If I didn't, it's a little late to change that now." "You have your pencils, yes? Did you pack enough for lunch?" "I've got a whole bag of tanglehorn jerky that Mr. Hoppenneimer gave me yesterday." "What about a change of clothes? If you wind up having to cut through the bog your pants will be-" "I'll be fine, Mrs. Petrovich." Mrs. Petrovich stopped fussing with the young man's collar and folded her hands together at her waist with slight embarrassment. Then, feeling awkward, she began smoothing out her wirey grey bun and stared absently at the floor. "Iakov..." She muttered his name in the way she always had when she was worried about him. Jacob had asked her once why she called him that, and she had said that her native pronunciation of his name sounded "stronger." It helped to remind her that he was not a little boy, but becoming a man, though to Jacob it still felt like more of a pet name she used to adress him. He looked at the old woman and felt a touch of guilt. He placed his hands on her shoulders and she lifted her gaze to his. Tired, sunken, hazy-blue eyes that had seen far too much in the 50 years since...well. She had seen a great deal too much evil. Jacob knew this. He had seen it, too, in his comparatively short 19 years. His parents' deaths. Mr. Petrovich's slow consumption by illness. He knew of the death of their only son, Dmitri, long ago, but had never ventured to ask how it had happened. But through it all, Mrs. Petrovich still took care of him, and still stayed strong. It was her strength that had driven Jacob to even try to be better. "You will not be here when you are grown." She had told him once when he was still a boy. "I do not know where you will end up, but it will be better than here. I will do all I can to get you out of this place, my Iakov." "Mrs. Petrovich..." He began, then chewed his lip. "Mom. Im going to be fine." She brightened at that, and pulled him into a hug. "I worry, my Iakov." She said into his chest. "I know," he stroked her back, "thank you." She pushed him away and held him at arms length, "What about ammunition? Have you cleaned the rifle recently? And stakes-" The young man spun around and pointed both thumbs at his backpack. Mr. Petrovich's old military rifle and four fire-hardened wooden stakes hung from loops sewn to either side. "Like I said, I'll be fine." Jacob insisted. At that, three sharp knocks came from the front door. "That'll be Stephen. I have to go." He said, kissing his adoptive mother on the forehead. "Good luck, Iakovsky." She smiled after him. Stephen was waiting on the porch, one leg propped along the railing as he took a long drag grom a cigarette. If Mrs. Petrovich was Jacob's mother, Stephen would be like a brother. Well, perhaps brother was too strong a word. Stephen was around 30 years old now, though most people didn't keep very good track of birthdays anymore. If you asked him, the man would claim he hadn't aged since his 21st birthday, "You're only as old as you think you are!" Jacob cleared his throat and waited. Just as he was about to call out to him, Stephen lazily turned his head, letting a chunk of ash fall to the porch. The man looked Jacob up and down with a slow regard and then asked with a dry throat, "Pants?" Jacob's heart dropped into his stomach. That meant that they would have to detour through the bog. "Can't we take the overpass?" He asked, hopefully. "If we just go up Northpike and cut through the schoolyard-" "Can't. Weather's warming up, so there's a herd of tanglehorn grazing at the schoolyard. Besides, we gotta get you there on time, bright boy." He took another drag from his cigarette and flicked it away. "Well, maybe we could-" "It's the bog." Stephen said with finality. "We've gotta go right through the old park, but we shouldn't need to go by the playground so long as the sun stays out." Jacob shuddered remembering the last time they'd had to pass by that rusty jungle gym and shook his head to get his mind off of it. As the two of them made their way to the gate, people going down the street began waving and cheering him on. Some of the kids ran alongside the two men for a while, asking Jacob if he was going to pass his test and when he would be able to "fix" them, for everyone in the community, even Mrs. Petrovich and Stephen, was a mutant. Some had club feet, others had underdeveloped limbs or one too many. But not Jacob. He was their "perfect posterboy", as Stephen had once put it; a totally ordinary looking person from the community, and the only one who would be allowed to attend the University. The community had raised him well, had taught him all they knew, and finally, on his 18th birthday, representatives from the University came. Growing up, Jacob had often found himself wondering if all anyone saw in him was their chance at a better life, and for a number of them he was sure that all they saw him as was a meal ticket. But that was alright with him. Jacob owed everything to these people, and if his studies could lead to helping those effected by mutation, if he could help make Mrs. Petrovich's life better, he would do so happily. "Jay-coooob~" Some girls called from a balcony, waving and blowing kisses at the pair as they marched down the road. Stephen elbowed him in the chest as Jacob began raising his hand. As the gate came into view, Jacob thought again about their trek to the university. Normally, Stephen would take him up Pelmore Avenue through what remained of the old stadium, and then it was a straight shot across Leaning Bridge to the edge of the city. "Civilization." Jacob thought, though a civilization that didn't accept just anyone. But the Bog was a different story. It had once been a great park, nearly twice the size of Jacob's home. However, that was in the past, and like many things, the park that was once a popular gathering spot for couples and students had devolved into a muggy, muddy, dreary wetland with overgrown reeds and gnarled trees that nobody who had been around 50 years prior could identify. Strange things called that place home now, and even stranger things happened there in the almost omnipresent mist that hung over the place like a cold shroud whenever the sun wasn't out. Jacob once again caught himself thinking back to the jungle gym. "Check." Stephen barked, shaking him from his memory. The two of them gave one another's packs a once over to see if they could find any holes or anything amiss. Satisfied, the two of them slipped out of the gate, leaving the community behind.	Well...."(bad word-F)" universities....about 90 percent of them are just another way to remind you that you are no more than a slave......and talking of post-post apocalyptic world.!!!........there are just 2 possibilities first, we will not be there to witness even after the first catastrophic disaster. Secondly, we already had left the earth. But for the sake of writing..........here we go.... 14 guk 8004, Blackday-q, After the catastrophic eruption of "CUBRE VIEJA" about 7 kjels' ago the earth is covered with about 20 welos thick blanket of dark fog. The temperature has fallen to -28°p. There were few attempts made by us to remove the fog but they made it worse. The radiations from the bombing were too high that some nations totally disappeared as there were no one to save them from the blue fog. After the latest attempt our satellites went out of range and we are no longer using it. To survive this "COLD-HELL" the locals of some vast areas united in order to keep human species alive. For hope and with hope we were able to make under ground farming systems and they are not sufficient to make everyone happy. But the worst of all that happened was the world is now divided in to 2 halves. The first one is on the northern hemisphere and they named them as natives of Australia, which is the derived from the ancient land of Australia. It is believed that about 5000 kjels' from now its was some where in the southern hemisphere. The second part named Us which means "we" although some believed that there was a nations somewhere in ancient time, in about 3500 CV. According to archeologists, its was the most active one in its time. On Blackday-d, An announcement was made, that the leader want all of us to have knowledge and started a university in which respected personalities teach subjects like philosophy, geology, farming, study of numbers and numerous processes of extracting water from different sources. The university was came to act last qeee. Today was my first day at that university. It is like a messy place as everyone is allowed in there. From 8 e.r. to 5 t.r. it remain totally crowdy. But the most challenging part is to make it to the university. I have been assigned a job to keep track of the upcoming storms. So My house is at on a remote mountain near a far dried river. The wasteland around my house is full of octohites. Octohites are small but sticky animals and their primary food source is bone marrow. Thank the Leader, who sucked all of their strength and made them weak. The land around here fell off deep into the core of the mountain and some times balls attack the area. All these things make it difficult to survive here and as a bonus I have to go to university and food supplies through all this hell. So I was going to university at about 9:12 e.r. I picked my tool bag and a scratcher. My dog and brother were alone at home, but there was nothing to worry, so did not think about it much as our house is under military surveillance. I was commuting through and saw a different creature out of the land limit. Land limit is the limit for after which no man is allowed. I was curious, so I followed it. Jumping through the fence which because of cold temperature ,which made it weak, fell off. I named that creature as "rudios". Rudios has wings and a bright tale with change colors according to the surroundings. But unfortunately I scared it and rudios flew some where in the dark sky fog. Just before few welos apart from university I saw my wife in walking out of women's erty. As all the ladies of particular blocks work for easy but demanding jobs and are only allowed to go home after the university is closed. She saw me and burst with joy and as she had not came home since the qeee. Today she was allowed to go home. From there I took her to university. The university was partially under ground and they were using a tower which went into the sky fog to draw power from it. Upon reaching university, we were came to know about something odd. A bad news was there, everyone working at the areas' main power station started to lost their memory and few of them had gone out on the wild lands. The other news we heard their was that someone across the ocean came in recently and they are not from the northern hemisphere. They seemed to have developed indifferent ways to generate power. My class for farming had started by now and with my wife I went to it. The university is also a way to make new links. As living on a remote mountain cuts you off from everyone. By the time the university closes, we picked my brother's wife, through wire train to military base, we went home. It is believed that on 37 opi 8009, blackday-qr, everyone will be saved by the master of the leader who lives up in the sky where the fog ends. _____________________________________________________________ Edit: there are so many mistakes........kindly report them.!! 1Edit: my English is not good......please criticise it..!!!! 127Edit: I feel odd........please make it complex...!!!!! Thanks for wasting time on this......
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.	With a scholarship that didn't include a room and board stipend, Chad had no housing option but the religious orders. Luckily, he had an ace in the hole. One of his ancestors, perhaps his most famous ancestor, had been a member of one of the orders in the late 20th century. The brothers always respected applicants who could trace their lineage back to prior members, and they put particular weight on those from the before-time. There was no question of his being immediately turned away, but he still had to prove himself. During the period of his initiation, he would have to prove to the brotherhood that he was worthy of being called a brother. They would frequently bring him vials of liquid. Drinking the liquid swiftly and without question, whether it was water, wine or waste it showed humility and that his fate was in the hands of his brothers. At other times they would blindfold him, he was then required to speak enshrined names while the brothers struck him with their fists. Finally, he was made to imbibe the sacramental alcohol, and to recite the revered texts without flaw. His novitiate period was difficult, but he was determined to make it. The brothers all worked on campus, and with their protection he could safely reach the campus as well. He wasn't a particularly spiritual person, but this order was more about the relationship between brothers than about spirituality. One day a brother knocked on the door to his chambers. They bade him come down to the great hall. The brothers were attempting to keep a solemn look, but he thought he caught smiles which were quickly suppressed. The ceremony which followed was brief. It concluded with the [august headgear](https://i.imgur.com/S7EVOxy.jpg) being placed on his head. And with that, Chad Kavanaugh was ordained a Lover of Beer, and a brother of Delta Kappa Epsilon, one of the premier fraternal organizations of Yale university.	“Go to school Danny” the figure lifts his arm which holds a machete and swings it down upon the dense undergrowth, carving a few more steps forward “Go get an edu- another swing and a step -CAtion Danny” “It’ll be - yet another swing and step forward as the figure breaks into a small clearing - GOod for you” The figure stands in the clearing, leaning on his machete while catching his breath. Taking his sleeve he wipes the dust, sweat and a odd purple liquid from his face. “Phew, well if I’m correct that’s most of the way...so where the hell is the city?” The figure takes a moment to look around noticing, not for the first time the ruins of civilization that surround him. “Look at this, look at what once was all around us! The sheer amount of control they had! Can you imagine what life was like with fossil fuels? The MACHINES!!! Gods what I wouldn’t give for a excavator and a full tank! To not have to cut my way through another vine. Oh gods that’s the dream!” the figure stretches his arms out and lazily spins in a circle as a second figure, smaller in stature with what appears to be a suitcase in tow now exits the forest growth. “Well Danny you know it was those exact machines that lead to the bloom right? It was people’s greed for more and more that lead to the mass extinctions and the broadening of temperate regions that caused this and frankly the rest of the world to enter a super period of growth...then extreme extinction once companies decided to produce a virus that killed of the vines that replaced...well they replaced damn near everything didn’t they?” The figure stops spinning and turns to face the new individual. Then begins half heartedly hacking at a few vines. “Then why aren’t he vines gone? Huh Mrs.Smarty pants?” “Because the same corporations that thought they could control things and destroyed the world the first time are BAD at controlling the world and managed to kill only the FRUIT bearing vines Danny. Did you pay absolutely no attention to our lessons?” “Camiel, you really know how to kill a mood don’t you?” “...” “...” There is a momentary pause as the two stare at each other and eventually the individual you assume is Danny looks down and returns to cutting vines. “I’ve been told that, yes. But I don’t see why you drool over the rusted remains of what was, THEY did it wrong and you’re getting a free ride at TU for getting ME there alive. So can we please focus on getting ME somewhere with air conditioning and barred windows, you know I hate sleeping out here where the bugs can get in” “Yeah yeah I gotcha, don’tcha worry your pretty little head, if I’m reading the maps correctly and no one’s shifted the axis of the earth we’re not too far out.” “Good, I hate it out here. It reminds me of what we’ve lost. Can we please just go already? Our escorts are dead and all I have right now is...you...so if you wouldn’t mind I would prefer we push on until we make it.” “Fair enough, but you really should be thanking me for not just leaving you to those bugs. A lesser individual would have cut their losses and run instead of fighting a pair of four foot long fire ants or did you forget that?” “Sorry Danny, it’s been a tough trip and.. I just want it over...” “I know, and it almost is, just a few more days and you’ll be making your own changes in the world. Lets hope you do better than the last bunch of idiots we put in power, killing off the only vines worth keeping and leaving us with this shit...what caused the initial bloom anyway?” “Danny, when we get to the university we’re going to have to get you an archive pass. Have you heard of the internet?” “I’ve heard of it, it’s like a super library or something right? Or is that...encylowikipedia?” “Almost right...ish. Not really but we’ll work on it.” And with that the two figures returned to their journey, hacking their way through the underbrush toward the main hall. Well actually if they keep going that direction they’ll hit the old parking garage. You wonder if you should go tell them that they’re already on campus and show them the right way before anymore ants show up. Or they skip over the university...then again you’re not supposed to be using the trail cameras until class in the morning. Maybe you’ll just go tell Greg, he’s supposed to be on surveillance right now anyway so he should be out there already...or you can switch to camera three and keep watching... You reach out an arm and tap the tab key to switch cameras until the figures pop back up, as you begin to wonder if this is the prodigy that was supposed to arrive two weeks ago...maybe you should tell Greg to go make sure they’re not killed by mutant ants or what is now a much more literal murder of crows...yeah...best get Greg. You leave the two figures on the screen and turn to go down the long dimly lit hallway of the sub basements that the university now calls home, intent upon finding Greg and making sure that the two who had traveled so far don’t make it this far only to die upon arrival. But it’s not like people can just stay on campus, the faculty need a break too...or so you’re told. So every season the students are sent home and have to make their way back. You wonder why no one else has taken to just living in the ruins of the city, it works well enough for you. Unlike the prodigy you’ve been watching you didn’t get free board. Actually as far as you know you’re the only unlucky sod not to receive free board...but hey, it just keeps you on your game and means that you don’t have to travel all the way back to Utah every season. Like you’d make the trip anyway. The screen fades into power save mode as your footsteps fade into the darkness, and a new moon begins to rise over a broken world. ————- Didn’t edit too much just did a scan let me know what your thoughts were and if you have any recommendations! Hope ya’ll enjoy.
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.	5:47. Minutes past daybreak. Rain spatters the windscreen. In the distance, the university spires wind up toward hellish amber skies. I have forgotten what it was like before the storm. For moments I can picture a blue sky, but the memory is always fleeting, like the face of someone you loved a long time ago, or the voice of my mother as she sang Ella Fitzgerald in the loft of our once-Brooklyn apartment: Blue skies Smiling at me Nothing but blue skies Do I see… Over and over: a scratched vinyl skipping back over itself. I can go no further. And in truth, I don’t try to, one verse is pleasant, any more would be painful. Any more and I might start to construct her face — sewing crude fragments of memory into a Frankenstein of what was she. The sound of movement jerks me back to reality. I glance out at the abandoned 7/11: the doorstep of my best friend’s house. Miles is late. He is always late. But today, his lateness is a crime. Today is tryouts. And whoever makes the team gets a spot on campus. Yes. The apocalypse has taken athletic privileges to whole other level. After all, you can’t expect to win nationals if your star Lacrosse player gets devoured by a flesh-eating demon.	“Go to school Danny” the figure lifts his arm which holds a machete and swings it down upon the dense undergrowth, carving a few more steps forward “Go get an edu- another swing and a step -CAtion Danny” “It’ll be - yet another swing and step forward as the figure breaks into a small clearing - GOod for you” The figure stands in the clearing, leaning on his machete while catching his breath. Taking his sleeve he wipes the dust, sweat and a odd purple liquid from his face. “Phew, well if I’m correct that’s most of the way...so where the hell is the city?” The figure takes a moment to look around noticing, not for the first time the ruins of civilization that surround him. “Look at this, look at what once was all around us! The sheer amount of control they had! Can you imagine what life was like with fossil fuels? The MACHINES!!! Gods what I wouldn’t give for a excavator and a full tank! To not have to cut my way through another vine. Oh gods that’s the dream!” the figure stretches his arms out and lazily spins in a circle as a second figure, smaller in stature with what appears to be a suitcase in tow now exits the forest growth. “Well Danny you know it was those exact machines that lead to the bloom right? It was people’s greed for more and more that lead to the mass extinctions and the broadening of temperate regions that caused this and frankly the rest of the world to enter a super period of growth...then extreme extinction once companies decided to produce a virus that killed of the vines that replaced...well they replaced damn near everything didn’t they?” The figure stops spinning and turns to face the new individual. Then begins half heartedly hacking at a few vines. “Then why aren’t he vines gone? Huh Mrs.Smarty pants?” “Because the same corporations that thought they could control things and destroyed the world the first time are BAD at controlling the world and managed to kill only the FRUIT bearing vines Danny. Did you pay absolutely no attention to our lessons?” “Camiel, you really know how to kill a mood don’t you?” “...” “...” There is a momentary pause as the two stare at each other and eventually the individual you assume is Danny looks down and returns to cutting vines. “I’ve been told that, yes. But I don’t see why you drool over the rusted remains of what was, THEY did it wrong and you’re getting a free ride at TU for getting ME there alive. So can we please focus on getting ME somewhere with air conditioning and barred windows, you know I hate sleeping out here where the bugs can get in” “Yeah yeah I gotcha, don’tcha worry your pretty little head, if I’m reading the maps correctly and no one’s shifted the axis of the earth we’re not too far out.” “Good, I hate it out here. It reminds me of what we’ve lost. Can we please just go already? Our escorts are dead and all I have right now is...you...so if you wouldn’t mind I would prefer we push on until we make it.” “Fair enough, but you really should be thanking me for not just leaving you to those bugs. A lesser individual would have cut their losses and run instead of fighting a pair of four foot long fire ants or did you forget that?” “Sorry Danny, it’s been a tough trip and.. I just want it over...” “I know, and it almost is, just a few more days and you’ll be making your own changes in the world. Lets hope you do better than the last bunch of idiots we put in power, killing off the only vines worth keeping and leaving us with this shit...what caused the initial bloom anyway?” “Danny, when we get to the university we’re going to have to get you an archive pass. Have you heard of the internet?” “I’ve heard of it, it’s like a super library or something right? Or is that...encylowikipedia?” “Almost right...ish. Not really but we’ll work on it.” And with that the two figures returned to their journey, hacking their way through the underbrush toward the main hall. Well actually if they keep going that direction they’ll hit the old parking garage. You wonder if you should go tell them that they’re already on campus and show them the right way before anymore ants show up. Or they skip over the university...then again you’re not supposed to be using the trail cameras until class in the morning. Maybe you’ll just go tell Greg, he’s supposed to be on surveillance right now anyway so he should be out there already...or you can switch to camera three and keep watching... You reach out an arm and tap the tab key to switch cameras until the figures pop back up, as you begin to wonder if this is the prodigy that was supposed to arrive two weeks ago...maybe you should tell Greg to go make sure they’re not killed by mutant ants or what is now a much more literal murder of crows...yeah...best get Greg. You leave the two figures on the screen and turn to go down the long dimly lit hallway of the sub basements that the university now calls home, intent upon finding Greg and making sure that the two who had traveled so far don’t make it this far only to die upon arrival. But it’s not like people can just stay on campus, the faculty need a break too...or so you’re told. So every season the students are sent home and have to make their way back. You wonder why no one else has taken to just living in the ruins of the city, it works well enough for you. Unlike the prodigy you’ve been watching you didn’t get free board. Actually as far as you know you’re the only unlucky sod not to receive free board...but hey, it just keeps you on your game and means that you don’t have to travel all the way back to Utah every season. Like you’d make the trip anyway. The screen fades into power save mode as your footsteps fade into the darkness, and a new moon begins to rise over a broken world. ————- Didn’t edit too much just did a scan let me know what your thoughts were and if you have any recommendations! Hope ya’ll enjoy.
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.	5:47. Minutes past daybreak. Rain spatters the windscreen. In the distance, the university spires wind up toward hellish amber skies. I have forgotten what it was like before the storm. For moments I can picture a blue sky, but the memory is always fleeting, like the face of someone you loved a long time ago, or the voice of my mother as she sang Ella Fitzgerald in the loft of our once-Brooklyn apartment: Blue skies Smiling at me Nothing but blue skies Do I see… Over and over: a scratched vinyl skipping back over itself. I can go no further. And in truth, I don’t try to, one verse is pleasant, any more would be painful. Any more and I might start to construct her face — sewing crude fragments of memory into a Frankenstein of what was she. The sound of movement jerks me back to reality. I glance out at the abandoned 7/11: the doorstep of my best friend’s house. Miles is late. He is always late. But today, his lateness is a crime. Today is tryouts. And whoever makes the team gets a spot on campus. Yes. The apocalypse has taken athletic privileges to whole other level. After all, you can’t expect to win nationals if your star Lacrosse player gets devoured by a flesh-eating demon.	With a scholarship that didn't include a room and board stipend, Chad had no housing option but the religious orders. Luckily, he had an ace in the hole. One of his ancestors, perhaps his most famous ancestor, had been a member of one of the orders in the late 20th century. The brothers always respected applicants who could trace their lineage back to prior members, and they put particular weight on those from the before-time. There was no question of his being immediately turned away, but he still had to prove himself. During the period of his initiation, he would have to prove to the brotherhood that he was worthy of being called a brother. They would frequently bring him vials of liquid. Drinking the liquid swiftly and without question, whether it was water, wine or waste it showed humility and that his fate was in the hands of his brothers. At other times they would blindfold him, he was then required to speak enshrined names while the brothers struck him with their fists. Finally, he was made to imbibe the sacramental alcohol, and to recite the revered texts without flaw. His novitiate period was difficult, but he was determined to make it. The brothers all worked on campus, and with their protection he could safely reach the campus as well. He wasn't a particularly spiritual person, but this order was more about the relationship between brothers than about spirituality. One day a brother knocked on the door to his chambers. They bade him come down to the great hall. The brothers were attempting to keep a solemn look, but he thought he caught smiles which were quickly suppressed. The ceremony which followed was brief. It concluded with the [august headgear](https://i.imgur.com/S7EVOxy.jpg) being placed on his head. And with that, Chad Kavanaugh was ordained a Lover of Beer, and a brother of Delta Kappa Epsilon, one of the premier fraternal organizations of Yale university.
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.	The alarm sounds and you open your eyes. For you class begins when that bell rings. Todays lesson plan is the first thing you see as it displays itsself before you. Food. You eat as the display transitions into this day's forecasted postapocalypse. A nano virus has eradicated all meaning and knowledge. You think to yourself as you prepare for the commute, "I don't know what that means." Then your mind fades into nothing. Your world goes dark as you discohere. "Class begins in one hour." Words. Language. Things. Thought. Class. Space. Hour. Time. You see. Sense and nonsense. You fall. It hurts. Pain. Body. "Ouch," you say. You. Who are you. Body. Pain. Ouch. Mind. Thought. You see. Hands? Movement. "Who am I?" Being. Questions. Answers. "I am." Where. Space. What. Room. When. Time. Now. Movement. Past. Future. Hour. "Class begins in one hour." Memory. A lifetime of memories flood into your being and you are actualized. You open the door before you and walk into class with 3 minutes to spare. "Glad to see you passed todays pop quiz on existential apocalypses. Please have a seat." As you find your seat, you hear the professor begin today's lecture "Mental decoherence apocalypses are much like those of physical decoherence. The key difference being..."	Dodging the mutants on the way to school was not too hard, they are slow and mostly stupid. Upon reaching the campus you are surprised to see the gates open and no guards. A few trampled leaflets in the mud read "No Walls! No Borders! Stop Mutant Discrimination!". Undeterred you make it to the main lecture hall which survived the blast only to discover a massacre. All the professors and other students remains are scattered around like a horrifying butcher house. The lead professor's skin is stretched like a giant kite hanging from the whiteboard. In his bloody hand is clutched a piece of paper. You climb up on the desk to reach it and read it--the minutes from the latest meeting. Agenda items include, "Post Acopolypse, Post Patriarchy. Discussion on Intersectionality in the ruins." The list goes on the same theme. The last item, "mutants are banging at the door, vote on whether they are racist or homophobic". &#x200B; Putting the note down, you leave in disgust and finally stumble on the technical college down the street. There plumbers, electricians, mechanics and engineers are busy rebuilding. You have found your post apocalyptic home.
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.	"You have final exams today, yes? Did you study enough?" "If I didn't, it's a little late to change that now." "You have your pencils, yes? Did you pack enough for lunch?" "I've got a whole bag of tanglehorn jerky that Mr. Hoppenneimer gave me yesterday." "What about a change of clothes? If you wind up having to cut through the bog your pants will be-" "I'll be fine, Mrs. Petrovich." Mrs. Petrovich stopped fussing with the young man's collar and folded her hands together at her waist with slight embarrassment. Then, feeling awkward, she began smoothing out her wirey grey bun and stared absently at the floor. "Iakov..." She muttered his name in the way she always had when she was worried about him. Jacob had asked her once why she called him that, and she had said that her native pronunciation of his name sounded "stronger." It helped to remind her that he was not a little boy, but becoming a man, though to Jacob it still felt like more of a pet name she used to adress him. He looked at the old woman and felt a touch of guilt. He placed his hands on her shoulders and she lifted her gaze to his. Tired, sunken, hazy-blue eyes that had seen far too much in the 50 years since...well. She had seen a great deal too much evil. Jacob knew this. He had seen it, too, in his comparatively short 19 years. His parents' deaths. Mr. Petrovich's slow consumption by illness. He knew of the death of their only son, Dmitri, long ago, but had never ventured to ask how it had happened. But through it all, Mrs. Petrovich still took care of him, and still stayed strong. It was her strength that had driven Jacob to even try to be better. "You will not be here when you are grown." She had told him once when he was still a boy. "I do not know where you will end up, but it will be better than here. I will do all I can to get you out of this place, my Iakov." "Mrs. Petrovich..." He began, then chewed his lip. "Mom. Im going to be fine." She brightened at that, and pulled him into a hug. "I worry, my Iakov." She said into his chest. "I know," he stroked her back, "thank you." She pushed him away and held him at arms length, "What about ammunition? Have you cleaned the rifle recently? And stakes-" The young man spun around and pointed both thumbs at his backpack. Mr. Petrovich's old military rifle and four fire-hardened wooden stakes hung from loops sewn to either side. "Like I said, I'll be fine." Jacob insisted. At that, three sharp knocks came from the front door. "That'll be Stephen. I have to go." He said, kissing his adoptive mother on the forehead. "Good luck, Iakovsky." She smiled after him. Stephen was waiting on the porch, one leg propped along the railing as he took a long drag grom a cigarette. If Mrs. Petrovich was Jacob's mother, Stephen would be like a brother. Well, perhaps brother was too strong a word. Stephen was around 30 years old now, though most people didn't keep very good track of birthdays anymore. If you asked him, the man would claim he hadn't aged since his 21st birthday, "You're only as old as you think you are!" Jacob cleared his throat and waited. Just as he was about to call out to him, Stephen lazily turned his head, letting a chunk of ash fall to the porch. The man looked Jacob up and down with a slow regard and then asked with a dry throat, "Pants?" Jacob's heart dropped into his stomach. That meant that they would have to detour through the bog. "Can't we take the overpass?" He asked, hopefully. "If we just go up Northpike and cut through the schoolyard-" "Can't. Weather's warming up, so there's a herd of tanglehorn grazing at the schoolyard. Besides, we gotta get you there on time, bright boy." He took another drag from his cigarette and flicked it away. "Well, maybe we could-" "It's the bog." Stephen said with finality. "We've gotta go right through the old park, but we shouldn't need to go by the playground so long as the sun stays out." Jacob shuddered remembering the last time they'd had to pass by that rusty jungle gym and shook his head to get his mind off of it. As the two of them made their way to the gate, people going down the street began waving and cheering him on. Some of the kids ran alongside the two men for a while, asking Jacob if he was going to pass his test and when he would be able to "fix" them, for everyone in the community, even Mrs. Petrovich and Stephen, was a mutant. Some had club feet, others had underdeveloped limbs or one too many. But not Jacob. He was their "perfect posterboy", as Stephen had once put it; a totally ordinary looking person from the community, and the only one who would be allowed to attend the University. The community had raised him well, had taught him all they knew, and finally, on his 18th birthday, representatives from the University came. Growing up, Jacob had often found himself wondering if all anyone saw in him was their chance at a better life, and for a number of them he was sure that all they saw him as was a meal ticket. But that was alright with him. Jacob owed everything to these people, and if his studies could lead to helping those effected by mutation, if he could help make Mrs. Petrovich's life better, he would do so happily. "Jay-coooob~" Some girls called from a balcony, waving and blowing kisses at the pair as they marched down the road. Stephen elbowed him in the chest as Jacob began raising his hand. As the gate came into view, Jacob thought again about their trek to the university. Normally, Stephen would take him up Pelmore Avenue through what remained of the old stadium, and then it was a straight shot across Leaning Bridge to the edge of the city. "Civilization." Jacob thought, though a civilization that didn't accept just anyone. But the Bog was a different story. It had once been a great park, nearly twice the size of Jacob's home. However, that was in the past, and like many things, the park that was once a popular gathering spot for couples and students had devolved into a muggy, muddy, dreary wetland with overgrown reeds and gnarled trees that nobody who had been around 50 years prior could identify. Strange things called that place home now, and even stranger things happened there in the almost omnipresent mist that hung over the place like a cold shroud whenever the sun wasn't out. Jacob once again caught himself thinking back to the jungle gym. "Check." Stephen barked, shaking him from his memory. The two of them gave one another's packs a once over to see if they could find any holes or anything amiss. Satisfied, the two of them slipped out of the gate, leaving the community behind.	Dodging the mutants on the way to school was not too hard, they are slow and mostly stupid. Upon reaching the campus you are surprised to see the gates open and no guards. A few trampled leaflets in the mud read "No Walls! No Borders! Stop Mutant Discrimination!". Undeterred you make it to the main lecture hall which survived the blast only to discover a massacre. All the professors and other students remains are scattered around like a horrifying butcher house. The lead professor's skin is stretched like a giant kite hanging from the whiteboard. In his bloody hand is clutched a piece of paper. You climb up on the desk to reach it and read it--the minutes from the latest meeting. Agenda items include, "Post Acopolypse, Post Patriarchy. Discussion on Intersectionality in the ruins." The list goes on the same theme. The last item, "mutants are banging at the door, vote on whether they are racist or homophobic". &#x200B; Putting the note down, you leave in disgust and finally stumble on the technical college down the street. There plumbers, electricians, mechanics and engineers are busy rebuilding. You have found your post apocalyptic home.
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.	The alarm clock wakes me up at 7AM everyday. Its not a fancy iPhone, its just a regular digital alarm clock, but it wakes me up in the morning. My classes dont start until 9 and the university is a good hour away, so i usually have enough time to shower, eat breakfast and pack my stuff for the day. Yep, i shower! We have clean, running water in the post-post apocalypse. Not everyone, granted. But i do, and i worked hard for it. The route i take to uni is rather slow, but extremely safe. I almost never see an infected, let alone interact with them. Its not that i can't deal with them, im just not a big risk taker. At least not when i dont have to. But today was different. My alarm clock ran out of batteries and didn't wake me up. The time it took for me to wake up on my own was too long for me to complete my usual morning routine. I had to cut things short. The alarm clock died, but i had a sundial outside. Pretty usefull, considering batteries and other electronics arent always available. It was about 8:15 o'clock now. I could neglect showering for a day, and i could buy food at uni. Only thing i had to do was gather my stuff and leave. I grabbed a gasmask and a baseball bat on my way out. Both were a gift from my dad before he died. My mom is dead too, dad said she died during my birth. My dad used to tell me stories about the time the apocalypse broke out, and how they had to wear a mask everytime they left the house due to random encounters with infected. The virus is airborn, which means you are always at risk when you're near those things. I stopped taking my gasmask to uni a while ago, i never run into infected anyway, there aren't a lot in the area, and it just takes up space in my backpack. But for my plan, im going to need it. The bat was also my dads. We played baseball with it sometimes, my dad really enjoyed that. He said it reminded him of the times before the apocalypse. It was a strong aluminum bat, i bashed a few heads in with this thing. Infected, you know? No humans. I never kill humans. I had a plan, and that plan was to go through a cavern in a nearby mountain. I usually go around the mountain, it doesn't take that much longer and, as i said, im not a risk taker. But i was running short on time. As i approached the cave i could hear those unholy screeches inside. I never understood the infected. Sometimes they fought, killed and ate each other. Other times they hunted together, killed the pray and distributed it equally among them, or so i heard. Like there is still some humanity left inside them. But i can assure you, its not. As i entered the cave i put on my gasmask and readied my bat. The infected are all very different, but one thing they all have in comon were their soft skulls. Espacially the crawlers, which i could hear clawing at each other inside the cave. One heavy hit to the head was enough to kill them. I made my way through the cave, usually i would go slow, espacially with crawlers around, but there was no time. I walked as quick and quiet as i could, trying not to alert them. The inside of the cave, while very linear, was also very wide, with a lot of walls and dark spaces for crawlers to hide. I could see the light on the other side already, but it was still a good 200 meters away. Crawlers dont like light, so they hide in caves during the day and crawl around the mountain at night. They never seem to get close to my house, though. They just stay on their mountain and i stay away from it. Sort of a "live and let live" type situation, i suppose. I was so hung up on that thought that i didn't even realise that they stopped fighting. It wasn't until i heard that screech again, this time far closer, that i knew i had to react fast. With lightning fast reflexes, i jumped to the side and dodged what might as well have been a bullet. These things move at incredible speeds, my best bet is to wait until right after the attack to strike when its regaining its composure.. which was right now! Without thinking, i took a swing at its head. It didn't even look at me, it must have been blinded by the light from the outside. Good for me. The metal bat hit it right on the center of its bald head. Instead of a loud, metalic clunk, i heard a fleshy, digusting sounding splash. I had completley destroyed this things head in one hit. But there was still one more of those things behind me. The other crawler was holding into a pillar made from rock, almost digging its long claws into it. Its thin arms were at least as long as its legs, which were almost twice as long as they should be. It stared at me with milky white eyes. I didn't see any pupils in this things eyes, but i felt it stare at me with pure anger. Its fangs were almost growing through its lower jaw, like a beaver who never chewed wood in his life. It's hard to believe that this thing used to be human. There was no time to dodge its attack. I just had to swing at it mid air. It leapt off the pillar and came crashing right at me. Its clawed hands flew right by me as it opened its mouth, ready to bite and, sure enough infect me. I didn't mention that the virus is blood-borne too, didnt I? If this crawler digs its teeth into me, its game over, even if i can overpower it afterwards. But thats not going to happen. I swing my bat at it, hitting it right in the face. It crashes into me, but due to its momentum it rolls right off again. I get up and, sure enough, it does to. It regains its composure while im already back on my feet to hit it again. I swing my bad sideways across its head, decapitating it and sending the head flying. The demon is dead. But more are probably coming. I should move. I quickly make my way to the end of the cave, all the while being followed by more screams and other unpleasent sounds. I had my fight moment, now its time for flight. They were searching for me inside of the cave, but i just kept on running. Eventually, i got out, with just an inch of space between one of those things and the back of my head. At least thats what it felt like. They didnt follow me out of the cave. They really dont seem to like light, or else i would surely be dead. I kept the gasmask on, just in case i ran into other infected. Luckily, i didn't, or else i would really have been late. Not dead, probably, but surely late. I arrived just about on time. 9:06 o'clock, Thats good enough. "Where were you, James? You're usually never late." "Hi dave. My uh.. my alarm didn't go off this morning, im going to have to change the batteries." "Ah, i see. Did you run into anything on your way again?" ".. Nah, there was nothing." \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ I usually dont write. Ever. But this sub has inspired me to try it. Critique is always welcome.	Dodging the mutants on the way to school was not too hard, they are slow and mostly stupid. Upon reaching the campus you are surprised to see the gates open and no guards. A few trampled leaflets in the mud read "No Walls! No Borders! Stop Mutant Discrimination!". Undeterred you make it to the main lecture hall which survived the blast only to discover a massacre. All the professors and other students remains are scattered around like a horrifying butcher house. The lead professor's skin is stretched like a giant kite hanging from the whiteboard. In his bloody hand is clutched a piece of paper. You climb up on the desk to reach it and read it--the minutes from the latest meeting. Agenda items include, "Post Acopolypse, Post Patriarchy. Discussion on Intersectionality in the ruins." The list goes on the same theme. The last item, "mutants are banging at the door, vote on whether they are racist or homophobic". &#x200B; Putting the note down, you leave in disgust and finally stumble on the technical college down the street. There plumbers, electricians, mechanics and engineers are busy rebuilding. You have found your post apocalyptic home.
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.	I used to stick to the tunnels. Remnants of the drainage system that ran beneath the city. but eventually even those became inhabited by the riders. at one time you only had to worry about the mutated rats and swarms of fire cockroaches. we found long ago that wearing a jacket or cloak sprayed in mutant ravens blood, they all left you alone. but not the riders. the gang of starving "people" that preyed on anything that moved. Often deformed, very territorial, and viciously violent. Now I could only use half of the tunnel system that i used to be able to. I lead from my family's keep to about halfway to the college. I had to get out of the tunnel system at a junction we called the crater. Long ago an explosion had created a 150 foot wide hole in the ground above one of the city squares. the subway tunnels were of course full of drifters and riders first. but there was a small access tunnel that used to have wires and pipes run in it that had been buried and forgotten about for a long time. that was our way around. we made sure to cover it up when we weren't using it. and were very cautious about when we entered or left it. someone had clearly seen one of us enter it or exit it. because one day we went to go to the college when we were attacked by a rider. luckily we had gotten the better of the attacker and were able to escape with our lives. but it meant that we could never again risk using the tunnel. I started off before first light. most of the drifters and riders would still be asleep or at least gathering their supplies from whatever encampment they stayed at the previous night. so it was slightly safer to travel. the biggest problem with travelling on the surface was that if you had cover, so did an enemy. every dune, every building, every tree was something someone could hide behind and wait for easy pickings. I had found that going from tree to tree in quick sprints, resting and observing was safest. It took me 2 hours to get to the college every day doing it this way, but it was safer than walking the artery into the city that was often packed with traders, mercenaries, riders, and drifters. the artery was called that because it was a violent bloody road. yes, you could get to the city. but you'd be stepping over slain people. mostly drifters and traders who would be killed for what they had. even if it was almost nothing. you'd see the bodies of riders on the road as well, but generally they were better armed and sometimes had armor. today started the same way. I slipped on my black pants and dark grey hoodie shirt, then grabbed my charcoal grey canvas rucksack. The rucksack had my school books, a snack for breakfast and the journey, some survival items, my knife, and my revolver. Weapons weren't officially allowed at the school, but most of the teachers would look the other way for the students who lived in the subland areas. "Okay, let's do this" I said aloud as strapped my pistol holster to my belt. I unbolted the door and walked out. I said that phrase every day. like a sort of rally speech for myself. The hallway was damp and musty. the door to the ruined building just 20 feet away into the wasteland. Crying and yelling was heard almost always in the complex. it had become commonplace and no one paid attention to it. walking out the door to the wasteland, I looked cautiously around. "Click click" I heard the sound of a hammer being cocked back. beside me in the dark someone had waited.	Dodging the mutants on the way to school was not too hard, they are slow and mostly stupid. Upon reaching the campus you are surprised to see the gates open and no guards. A few trampled leaflets in the mud read "No Walls! No Borders! Stop Mutant Discrimination!". Undeterred you make it to the main lecture hall which survived the blast only to discover a massacre. All the professors and other students remains are scattered around like a horrifying butcher house. The lead professor's skin is stretched like a giant kite hanging from the whiteboard. In his bloody hand is clutched a piece of paper. You climb up on the desk to reach it and read it--the minutes from the latest meeting. Agenda items include, "Post Acopolypse, Post Patriarchy. Discussion on Intersectionality in the ruins." The list goes on the same theme. The last item, "mutants are banging at the door, vote on whether they are racist or homophobic". &#x200B; Putting the note down, you leave in disgust and finally stumble on the technical college down the street. There plumbers, electricians, mechanics and engineers are busy rebuilding. You have found your post apocalyptic home.
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.	“...Light traffic on the 680, looks… short commute…. Accidents…” I smack the top of my radio. “Now for the weather wi-” I turn it off. I’m not here to listen to the weather report. Same thing, day after day. I brush the crumbs off of me and stack my cup on the plate, before bringing it to the sink and adding it to the pile. I’ll give them a wash when I get back. It’s still dark when I head out the door. Winter is the fucking worst, honestly. Nothing worse than leaving when it’s dark and coming home when it’s dark. At least the sky is starting to lighten. I make sure to pick a path slightly off the side of the road in the tall grass. There’s a real absence of cover on my commute, which sucks, but it’s not too bad. I can just duck down and that works for about 95% of any encounters. When I first started, I used the cars as cover, but then I realized a lot of things liked to live in and under the burned wreckages of cars. Now I have a scar on my ankle and I stay off the road. I crest a hill and I’m confronted with the sight of a massive horde of stick-worm thralls. Just slowly lumbering across the road. Just what I need. Closer, I see a figure crouched behind a shell of a car. Must be Theo. I start down the hill towards the car wreck. His eyes widen with recognition “What are you doing, idiot! Are you trying to get me killed?” he whispers. “Jeez, just trying to say hi.” I respond Probably just nerves, I thought. Commuting always sucks at first and he's taking longer to get used to it than most. I quickly glance under the car. All clear. “What if they see you? They’ll fucking kill us!” “The only thing they’re killing is my attendance this term”, I reply. “Honestly Theo, they’re pretty harmless as long as you don’t make super sudden movements, or yell, or start bleeding for some reason.” “You’re insane” “I’m insane, yeah. Let’s see who dies of heart disease first, me or you. Something tells me it’s gonna be the guy that shits his pants in panic every commute. What are you gonna do when something actually happens? Panic more? I don’t think that's possible.” He just glares at me. “Andddddd, we’re good. Hopefully no stragglers, right?” I said. "Let's stay off the road." I start towards the school again. As we walk, I try to make a little small talk. “You know, this commute is actually shorter than the one I had before the apocalypse?” No response. I continue. “Not even kidding. Usually took me over two hours, believe it or not. Now it’s closer to an hour thirty. Pretty sweet. No asshole drivers anymore, either.” “Yeah, instead you pester me for an hour.” Theo said bitterly. “I like to think this is fun, productive conversation. Imagine how boring it would be without me here?” “So boring. I wouldn’t know what I would do without you, Ava. Maybe I’ll have to walk in silence. Imagine that.” “Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Theo. I know the world ended, but you don’t need to spit on the grave of civilization like that.” As we pass a car, Theo walks to the left of it while I ass it on the right. In that half a second of separation, Theo disappears from sight. Fuck. I unsheathe my knife and jump on top of the car to try and see what took him. Giant arthropod, maybe? It was a little wetter than usual this winter. As I peer over, I see him just crouching behind the wheel well. That asshole. I kick some dirt from the top of the car into his face. Theo’s just bent over laughing at this point. I can’t help but smile a little, either. I still punch him in the arm, though. “Oh man, you should have seen the look on your face” He wheezed. “I can’t believe I finally got you” “Fuck you, theo” I said. I try to be angry, but I can’t. Pretty harmless as a prank, and it did get me. “Consider that revenge for the two hundred times you scared the shit out of me” “I’ll get you on the way back. Promise” “Oh, we’re here now,” He said. Was that a little wistfulness I heard? “See you later, I guess,” “Yeah, see you” He said and walked towards his classes. I was 30 minutes late to the lecture but I couldn’t keep a smile off my face.	Dodging the mutants on the way to school was not too hard, they are slow and mostly stupid. Upon reaching the campus you are surprised to see the gates open and no guards. A few trampled leaflets in the mud read "No Walls! No Borders! Stop Mutant Discrimination!". Undeterred you make it to the main lecture hall which survived the blast only to discover a massacre. All the professors and other students remains are scattered around like a horrifying butcher house. The lead professor's skin is stretched like a giant kite hanging from the whiteboard. In his bloody hand is clutched a piece of paper. You climb up on the desk to reach it and read it--the minutes from the latest meeting. Agenda items include, "Post Acopolypse, Post Patriarchy. Discussion on Intersectionality in the ruins." The list goes on the same theme. The last item, "mutants are banging at the door, vote on whether they are racist or homophobic". &#x200B; Putting the note down, you leave in disgust and finally stumble on the technical college down the street. There plumbers, electricians, mechanics and engineers are busy rebuilding. You have found your post apocalyptic home.
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.	Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing! I flail around in the dark, trying to shut my alarm up. My hand smacks into the cold metal of the old clock, but I fumble blindly with the buttons and switches before I successfully turn it off. I crack my eyes open, and take a breath of the radon-laced air. I look at the clock. 7:05 AM. I’m late. I leap out of bed, cursing loudly. “Watch your mouth!” It’s my mom. “Sorry!” I brush my teeth, and run downstairs, where a bowl of cold, dry cereal greets me. I wolf it down, then chug a glass of water, not even bothering to test it with a Geiger counter. Besides, I love the taste of cobalt-60 in the morning. I run to the van- a former troop carrier we found a couple years ago. Sure, it guzzles fuel like there’s no tomorrow, but Michigan roads sucked even before the Bombing. Now? You need an armored military vehicle just to drive to college. And, in this world… there might not be a tomorrow. It all started fifteen years ago. Relations with the former Russian Federation were getting tenser and tenser, and each new President was only making the situation worse. Then, we bombed the Russian troops in the Middle East, Putin lost it, and one hundred American cities went up in a cloud of nuclear fire. Washington, D.C. New York. Chicago. Los Angeles. Detroit. I was one of the lucky ones. Over a hundred million were killed in that brazen terrorist attack. We retaliated, but by then, the damage had been done. Nuclear winter caused a worldwide famine, the EMP’s wiped out 90% of every bit of technology made after 2000, and radioactive dust polluted the atmosphere, the water, the earth itself. It fell to us to rebuild. Which is why, at 7:15 in the morning, I have to wake up and go to college. I sling my bag into the passenger seat of the van, and begin the hour-long drive to Ann Arbor. The University of Michigan had suffered some damage in the Bombing, but much of it was still standing. The van bumps and jolts as it drives over roads that were terrible when new and even worse when left unmaintained. Snow blankets the ground, three inches deep. The electronic clock from the troop carrier is non-functional- but that’s why I have my dad’s watch, a handsome Shinola with a leather band. He’d been working in Detroit during the Bombing. His watch had survived, somehow. He wasn’t so lucky. My mom worked enough to pay the bills, and I managed to wrangle a scholarship to the University of Michigan. I wanted to help her out, but she insisted I go to college and help rebuild this broken world. I look up, and see I’m approaching the city of Detroit. Detroit was once an industrial powerhouse- but that was in 1950. Even in 2000, it was a shadow of its former self. Now? It’s a ruin. Anyone who was alive after the Bombing fled. All that remains are glass spires harkening to a bygone era… and traffic lights. Red light. I bring the troop carrier to a grinding stop. I take a peek at the watch. 7:45 AM. The light turns green, and I slam on the accelerator, hoping the ancient van will get me to class on time. As I close in on Ann Arbor, I am confronted by a gang of people. The AnTechs, they call themselves. They believed our technology was the cause of all this destruction. They hated the University, wanted to see it torn down. Idiots. Twenty of them stood in front of the van. I blared the horn, but they didn’t move. Part of me wanted to just run them over, but I couldn’t. “Leave now, technologist!” “What are you studying?” “Warmonger!” I wanted to fix their lives, but they were likely to kill me if I even poked my head out of the van. So I kept blasting the horn, waiting for them to clear up. They didn’t. Worse yet, class was in three minutes. I started the van’s engine, and inched it forward. They started slowly stepping out of the way, and those who didn’t were pushed aside. “Yeah, go to class!” “Learn to unleash plagues!” “Probably believes President Aurant was the cause of this.” Aurant. If it wasn’t for his anti-scientific, war-hawk presidency, we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place. And yet, these mobs believes he was some deity come to save mankind from the evils of (insert scare quotes) science! Idiots… I pull up in the parking lot next to the mechanical engineering building, kill the engine, pick up my old laptop, and leap out the door. My professor was well-known as a stickler for punctuality. I race through the corridors of the building, and push open the door. “Sorry I’m late, Prof. Slayton. It’s just been one of those days.” \\\\\\ Sorry I'm late! Just hoping I don't get buried here. Feedback welcome!	I pushed the branch out of the way and glanced out. Rain. It was pouring creating walls that swept across the barren land. Above, the sky was still dark, causing any light to stick out. It would make the journey more dangerous. But I had no choice. If I failed to show I would lose everything. The wonderful bargain I had made. Sell us your soul and we will help you out of your situation. Fuckers. Be thankful that you even got this opportunity, dweller. I let the branch slap back over in front of the window. The rain echoed on the roof. Thankfully at least there were no leaks. My computers and systems were safe. I began to get ready. Rain pants, followed by a raincoat. Both grey to match the barren land. My bag I had packed the night before was ready and charged, though now I would have to switch it over to the hard plastic one to protect my computer. I checked my bike making sure the battery was charged as well. The last thing I needed was for it to die mid way, leaving me stranded in the barrens. Everything was ready. I chugged the last bit of coffee before opening the hatch in the floor. First I lowered my bike down to the base of the tree. Then myself. I checked the cameras one last time to make sure that there was no one on the outside. I really did not need anyone to find my tree house. The coast was clear and I quickly popped out. Turning I made sure the door in the trunk closed completely concealing its existence. Everything looked good. Just a normal tree in the wood. With a deep breath I walked my bike to the tree line. There seemed to be no one. But it was hard to say. The rain wasn’t letting up making it impossible to see anything farther than a stones throw out. Time was ticking, I had no choice but to start off. With a kick of the pedals the bike hummed to life. I made sure to turn off all the lights so as not to glow and get spotted. The rain felt like small bullets upon my coat. The sound was a loud roar in my ears. My systems were reading clear at least. No other electric activity nearby. Hopefully the rain would keep all of the bandits at bay. They were not prepared for rain, but sometimes that didn’t stop them from trying. My biggest worry was the one collective I had to go through. That was typically where the problem laid. That and the gate to the city. In the distance I could just begin to make out the silhouette of the huts. The small buildings glowed a warm amber from the lights within. It wasn’t safe to have lights on, but if they did, maybe they had no sign of bandits. As I approached my systems began to pick of electric current. Not vehicular though. The signals were steady, more like generators or lights. I sped up as I passed the first hut. No one was out. Tin covered the windows causing the light to leak out the edges and cause the glow. All the people appeared to be hunkering down for the storm. Good. Once through I came to my most hated part. The desert. There was nothing. No rocks, nor trees. Not even hills. The land looked like a flat grey plane that went on infinitely. At least here, I could not get sneaked up on. The downside was, it was easy to get lost. With the rain I was solely dependent on my system to keep me heading in the correct direction. After what seemed like an eternity the lights of the university and surrounding city glowed on the horizon. Almost there. My system flashed red alerting me to a vehicle. Fantastic. I quickly grabbed the decoy from behind my seat. With any luck the rain would help it in its mission. My system began the countdown to activation. The decoy would turn on and my bike would turn off. It would mimic my bikes electrical signal and head in a different direction. In theory allowing me to continue undetected. The only downside was that my bike was now just a bike. If the decoy didn’t work, I wouldn’t be able to pedal fast enough, nor would the system power up quick enough to make a clean escape. It had happened twice before, but I had managed to still get to class. If third time's the charm, I was screwed. I strained my ears to hear anything, but all I could hear was the sound of rain on my hood. The city grew closer the gates now discernible. Should I try for it? Turn my systems back on for the last bit? The gates always kept bandits at bay due to their alert systems. No chip no entry basically. I could still get shot though. My mind whirred as fast as I slammed into the pedals. I was almost to the line when my systems came fully online. My decoy had been attacked and destroyed. I gunned it. In the distance a light flicked on and the sound of a sad engine roared. Fuckity fuck! I pulled my taser gun that shot little electrified balls. They didn’t kill but they caused momentary paralysis. If they hit an electrical system, they fried it. I placed a hand over the stem of my bike and took aim. The light belonged to a sad motorbike that was in desperate need of work. The man on it didn’t appear much better. I let a bullet fly. At the sound he swerved in an attempt to avoid my shot. The bike lost traction on the water, launching the rider. I took aim again and shot at the bike. It hit true causing the bike to hiss and pop as the electrical system fried. If there were more bandits, it didn’t matter. The gates to the city were opened a hologram above welcoming me. I rolled my eyes. If I was truly welcome the damn university would have given me housing. After a brief checkpoint I was on my way to the shiny building that was the main hall. Around me, fancy electric cars quietly zipped about heading to their respective places. I always stuck out. My dinky ancient steal bike that was jerry rigged would never fit into a world filled with perfect shine and finish. I parked my bike in the small bike parking area under the main hall. Then I stripped off my sopping wet rain gear. With a breath I settled myself. Everytime I entered the building it was like walking into a new being. I held my head higher, My shoulders back. It was hard not to be proud. I was after all the top student after having gotten in for hacking the city's main frame and shutting it down. Had I threatened the city with an ultimatum? Maybe. But I got to go to the university for it.
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.	The alarm clock wakes me up at 7AM everyday. Its not a fancy iPhone, its just a regular digital alarm clock, but it wakes me up in the morning. My classes dont start until 9 and the university is a good hour away, so i usually have enough time to shower, eat breakfast and pack my stuff for the day. Yep, i shower! We have clean, running water in the post-post apocalypse. Not everyone, granted. But i do, and i worked hard for it. The route i take to uni is rather slow, but extremely safe. I almost never see an infected, let alone interact with them. Its not that i can't deal with them, im just not a big risk taker. At least not when i dont have to. But today was different. My alarm clock ran out of batteries and didn't wake me up. The time it took for me to wake up on my own was too long for me to complete my usual morning routine. I had to cut things short. The alarm clock died, but i had a sundial outside. Pretty usefull, considering batteries and other electronics arent always available. It was about 8:15 o'clock now. I could neglect showering for a day, and i could buy food at uni. Only thing i had to do was gather my stuff and leave. I grabbed a gasmask and a baseball bat on my way out. Both were a gift from my dad before he died. My mom is dead too, dad said she died during my birth. My dad used to tell me stories about the time the apocalypse broke out, and how they had to wear a mask everytime they left the house due to random encounters with infected. The virus is airborn, which means you are always at risk when you're near those things. I stopped taking my gasmask to uni a while ago, i never run into infected anyway, there aren't a lot in the area, and it just takes up space in my backpack. But for my plan, im going to need it. The bat was also my dads. We played baseball with it sometimes, my dad really enjoyed that. He said it reminded him of the times before the apocalypse. It was a strong aluminum bat, i bashed a few heads in with this thing. Infected, you know? No humans. I never kill humans. I had a plan, and that plan was to go through a cavern in a nearby mountain. I usually go around the mountain, it doesn't take that much longer and, as i said, im not a risk taker. But i was running short on time. As i approached the cave i could hear those unholy screeches inside. I never understood the infected. Sometimes they fought, killed and ate each other. Other times they hunted together, killed the pray and distributed it equally among them, or so i heard. Like there is still some humanity left inside them. But i can assure you, its not. As i entered the cave i put on my gasmask and readied my bat. The infected are all very different, but one thing they all have in comon were their soft skulls. Espacially the crawlers, which i could hear clawing at each other inside the cave. One heavy hit to the head was enough to kill them. I made my way through the cave, usually i would go slow, espacially with crawlers around, but there was no time. I walked as quick and quiet as i could, trying not to alert them. The inside of the cave, while very linear, was also very wide, with a lot of walls and dark spaces for crawlers to hide. I could see the light on the other side already, but it was still a good 200 meters away. Crawlers dont like light, so they hide in caves during the day and crawl around the mountain at night. They never seem to get close to my house, though. They just stay on their mountain and i stay away from it. Sort of a "live and let live" type situation, i suppose. I was so hung up on that thought that i didn't even realise that they stopped fighting. It wasn't until i heard that screech again, this time far closer, that i knew i had to react fast. With lightning fast reflexes, i jumped to the side and dodged what might as well have been a bullet. These things move at incredible speeds, my best bet is to wait until right after the attack to strike when its regaining its composure.. which was right now! Without thinking, i took a swing at its head. It didn't even look at me, it must have been blinded by the light from the outside. Good for me. The metal bat hit it right on the center of its bald head. Instead of a loud, metalic clunk, i heard a fleshy, digusting sounding splash. I had completley destroyed this things head in one hit. But there was still one more of those things behind me. The other crawler was holding into a pillar made from rock, almost digging its long claws into it. Its thin arms were at least as long as its legs, which were almost twice as long as they should be. It stared at me with milky white eyes. I didn't see any pupils in this things eyes, but i felt it stare at me with pure anger. Its fangs were almost growing through its lower jaw, like a beaver who never chewed wood in his life. It's hard to believe that this thing used to be human. There was no time to dodge its attack. I just had to swing at it mid air. It leapt off the pillar and came crashing right at me. Its clawed hands flew right by me as it opened its mouth, ready to bite and, sure enough infect me. I didn't mention that the virus is blood-borne too, didnt I? If this crawler digs its teeth into me, its game over, even if i can overpower it afterwards. But thats not going to happen. I swing my bat at it, hitting it right in the face. It crashes into me, but due to its momentum it rolls right off again. I get up and, sure enough, it does to. It regains its composure while im already back on my feet to hit it again. I swing my bad sideways across its head, decapitating it and sending the head flying. The demon is dead. But more are probably coming. I should move. I quickly make my way to the end of the cave, all the while being followed by more screams and other unpleasent sounds. I had my fight moment, now its time for flight. They were searching for me inside of the cave, but i just kept on running. Eventually, i got out, with just an inch of space between one of those things and the back of my head. At least thats what it felt like. They didnt follow me out of the cave. They really dont seem to like light, or else i would surely be dead. I kept the gasmask on, just in case i ran into other infected. Luckily, i didn't, or else i would really have been late. Not dead, probably, but surely late. I arrived just about on time. 9:06 o'clock, Thats good enough. "Where were you, James? You're usually never late." "Hi dave. My uh.. my alarm didn't go off this morning, im going to have to change the batteries." "Ah, i see. Did you run into anything on your way again?" ".. Nah, there was nothing." \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ I usually dont write. Ever. But this sub has inspired me to try it. Critique is always welcome.	I pushed the branch out of the way and glanced out. Rain. It was pouring creating walls that swept across the barren land. Above, the sky was still dark, causing any light to stick out. It would make the journey more dangerous. But I had no choice. If I failed to show I would lose everything. The wonderful bargain I had made. Sell us your soul and we will help you out of your situation. Fuckers. Be thankful that you even got this opportunity, dweller. I let the branch slap back over in front of the window. The rain echoed on the roof. Thankfully at least there were no leaks. My computers and systems were safe. I began to get ready. Rain pants, followed by a raincoat. Both grey to match the barren land. My bag I had packed the night before was ready and charged, though now I would have to switch it over to the hard plastic one to protect my computer. I checked my bike making sure the battery was charged as well. The last thing I needed was for it to die mid way, leaving me stranded in the barrens. Everything was ready. I chugged the last bit of coffee before opening the hatch in the floor. First I lowered my bike down to the base of the tree. Then myself. I checked the cameras one last time to make sure that there was no one on the outside. I really did not need anyone to find my tree house. The coast was clear and I quickly popped out. Turning I made sure the door in the trunk closed completely concealing its existence. Everything looked good. Just a normal tree in the wood. With a deep breath I walked my bike to the tree line. There seemed to be no one. But it was hard to say. The rain wasn’t letting up making it impossible to see anything farther than a stones throw out. Time was ticking, I had no choice but to start off. With a kick of the pedals the bike hummed to life. I made sure to turn off all the lights so as not to glow and get spotted. The rain felt like small bullets upon my coat. The sound was a loud roar in my ears. My systems were reading clear at least. No other electric activity nearby. Hopefully the rain would keep all of the bandits at bay. They were not prepared for rain, but sometimes that didn’t stop them from trying. My biggest worry was the one collective I had to go through. That was typically where the problem laid. That and the gate to the city. In the distance I could just begin to make out the silhouette of the huts. The small buildings glowed a warm amber from the lights within. It wasn’t safe to have lights on, but if they did, maybe they had no sign of bandits. As I approached my systems began to pick of electric current. Not vehicular though. The signals were steady, more like generators or lights. I sped up as I passed the first hut. No one was out. Tin covered the windows causing the light to leak out the edges and cause the glow. All the people appeared to be hunkering down for the storm. Good. Once through I came to my most hated part. The desert. There was nothing. No rocks, nor trees. Not even hills. The land looked like a flat grey plane that went on infinitely. At least here, I could not get sneaked up on. The downside was, it was easy to get lost. With the rain I was solely dependent on my system to keep me heading in the correct direction. After what seemed like an eternity the lights of the university and surrounding city glowed on the horizon. Almost there. My system flashed red alerting me to a vehicle. Fantastic. I quickly grabbed the decoy from behind my seat. With any luck the rain would help it in its mission. My system began the countdown to activation. The decoy would turn on and my bike would turn off. It would mimic my bikes electrical signal and head in a different direction. In theory allowing me to continue undetected. The only downside was that my bike was now just a bike. If the decoy didn’t work, I wouldn’t be able to pedal fast enough, nor would the system power up quick enough to make a clean escape. It had happened twice before, but I had managed to still get to class. If third time's the charm, I was screwed. I strained my ears to hear anything, but all I could hear was the sound of rain on my hood. The city grew closer the gates now discernible. Should I try for it? Turn my systems back on for the last bit? The gates always kept bandits at bay due to their alert systems. No chip no entry basically. I could still get shot though. My mind whirred as fast as I slammed into the pedals. I was almost to the line when my systems came fully online. My decoy had been attacked and destroyed. I gunned it. In the distance a light flicked on and the sound of a sad engine roared. Fuckity fuck! I pulled my taser gun that shot little electrified balls. They didn’t kill but they caused momentary paralysis. If they hit an electrical system, they fried it. I placed a hand over the stem of my bike and took aim. The light belonged to a sad motorbike that was in desperate need of work. The man on it didn’t appear much better. I let a bullet fly. At the sound he swerved in an attempt to avoid my shot. The bike lost traction on the water, launching the rider. I took aim again and shot at the bike. It hit true causing the bike to hiss and pop as the electrical system fried. If there were more bandits, it didn’t matter. The gates to the city were opened a hologram above welcoming me. I rolled my eyes. If I was truly welcome the damn university would have given me housing. After a brief checkpoint I was on my way to the shiny building that was the main hall. Around me, fancy electric cars quietly zipped about heading to their respective places. I always stuck out. My dinky ancient steal bike that was jerry rigged would never fit into a world filled with perfect shine and finish. I parked my bike in the small bike parking area under the main hall. Then I stripped off my sopping wet rain gear. With a breath I settled myself. Everytime I entered the building it was like walking into a new being. I held my head higher, My shoulders back. It was hard not to be proud. I was after all the top student after having gotten in for hacking the city's main frame and shutting it down. Had I threatened the city with an ultimatum? Maybe. But I got to go to the university for it.
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.	I used to stick to the tunnels. Remnants of the drainage system that ran beneath the city. but eventually even those became inhabited by the riders. at one time you only had to worry about the mutated rats and swarms of fire cockroaches. we found long ago that wearing a jacket or cloak sprayed in mutant ravens blood, they all left you alone. but not the riders. the gang of starving "people" that preyed on anything that moved. Often deformed, very territorial, and viciously violent. Now I could only use half of the tunnel system that i used to be able to. I lead from my family's keep to about halfway to the college. I had to get out of the tunnel system at a junction we called the crater. Long ago an explosion had created a 150 foot wide hole in the ground above one of the city squares. the subway tunnels were of course full of drifters and riders first. but there was a small access tunnel that used to have wires and pipes run in it that had been buried and forgotten about for a long time. that was our way around. we made sure to cover it up when we weren't using it. and were very cautious about when we entered or left it. someone had clearly seen one of us enter it or exit it. because one day we went to go to the college when we were attacked by a rider. luckily we had gotten the better of the attacker and were able to escape with our lives. but it meant that we could never again risk using the tunnel. I started off before first light. most of the drifters and riders would still be asleep or at least gathering their supplies from whatever encampment they stayed at the previous night. so it was slightly safer to travel. the biggest problem with travelling on the surface was that if you had cover, so did an enemy. every dune, every building, every tree was something someone could hide behind and wait for easy pickings. I had found that going from tree to tree in quick sprints, resting and observing was safest. It took me 2 hours to get to the college every day doing it this way, but it was safer than walking the artery into the city that was often packed with traders, mercenaries, riders, and drifters. the artery was called that because it was a violent bloody road. yes, you could get to the city. but you'd be stepping over slain people. mostly drifters and traders who would be killed for what they had. even if it was almost nothing. you'd see the bodies of riders on the road as well, but generally they were better armed and sometimes had armor. today started the same way. I slipped on my black pants and dark grey hoodie shirt, then grabbed my charcoal grey canvas rucksack. The rucksack had my school books, a snack for breakfast and the journey, some survival items, my knife, and my revolver. Weapons weren't officially allowed at the school, but most of the teachers would look the other way for the students who lived in the subland areas. "Okay, let's do this" I said aloud as strapped my pistol holster to my belt. I unbolted the door and walked out. I said that phrase every day. like a sort of rally speech for myself. The hallway was damp and musty. the door to the ruined building just 20 feet away into the wasteland. Crying and yelling was heard almost always in the complex. it had become commonplace and no one paid attention to it. walking out the door to the wasteland, I looked cautiously around. "Click click" I heard the sound of a hammer being cocked back. beside me in the dark someone had waited.	I pushed the branch out of the way and glanced out. Rain. It was pouring creating walls that swept across the barren land. Above, the sky was still dark, causing any light to stick out. It would make the journey more dangerous. But I had no choice. If I failed to show I would lose everything. The wonderful bargain I had made. Sell us your soul and we will help you out of your situation. Fuckers. Be thankful that you even got this opportunity, dweller. I let the branch slap back over in front of the window. The rain echoed on the roof. Thankfully at least there were no leaks. My computers and systems were safe. I began to get ready. Rain pants, followed by a raincoat. Both grey to match the barren land. My bag I had packed the night before was ready and charged, though now I would have to switch it over to the hard plastic one to protect my computer. I checked my bike making sure the battery was charged as well. The last thing I needed was for it to die mid way, leaving me stranded in the barrens. Everything was ready. I chugged the last bit of coffee before opening the hatch in the floor. First I lowered my bike down to the base of the tree. Then myself. I checked the cameras one last time to make sure that there was no one on the outside. I really did not need anyone to find my tree house. The coast was clear and I quickly popped out. Turning I made sure the door in the trunk closed completely concealing its existence. Everything looked good. Just a normal tree in the wood. With a deep breath I walked my bike to the tree line. There seemed to be no one. But it was hard to say. The rain wasn’t letting up making it impossible to see anything farther than a stones throw out. Time was ticking, I had no choice but to start off. With a kick of the pedals the bike hummed to life. I made sure to turn off all the lights so as not to glow and get spotted. The rain felt like small bullets upon my coat. The sound was a loud roar in my ears. My systems were reading clear at least. No other electric activity nearby. Hopefully the rain would keep all of the bandits at bay. They were not prepared for rain, but sometimes that didn’t stop them from trying. My biggest worry was the one collective I had to go through. That was typically where the problem laid. That and the gate to the city. In the distance I could just begin to make out the silhouette of the huts. The small buildings glowed a warm amber from the lights within. It wasn’t safe to have lights on, but if they did, maybe they had no sign of bandits. As I approached my systems began to pick of electric current. Not vehicular though. The signals were steady, more like generators or lights. I sped up as I passed the first hut. No one was out. Tin covered the windows causing the light to leak out the edges and cause the glow. All the people appeared to be hunkering down for the storm. Good. Once through I came to my most hated part. The desert. There was nothing. No rocks, nor trees. Not even hills. The land looked like a flat grey plane that went on infinitely. At least here, I could not get sneaked up on. The downside was, it was easy to get lost. With the rain I was solely dependent on my system to keep me heading in the correct direction. After what seemed like an eternity the lights of the university and surrounding city glowed on the horizon. Almost there. My system flashed red alerting me to a vehicle. Fantastic. I quickly grabbed the decoy from behind my seat. With any luck the rain would help it in its mission. My system began the countdown to activation. The decoy would turn on and my bike would turn off. It would mimic my bikes electrical signal and head in a different direction. In theory allowing me to continue undetected. The only downside was that my bike was now just a bike. If the decoy didn’t work, I wouldn’t be able to pedal fast enough, nor would the system power up quick enough to make a clean escape. It had happened twice before, but I had managed to still get to class. If third time's the charm, I was screwed. I strained my ears to hear anything, but all I could hear was the sound of rain on my hood. The city grew closer the gates now discernible. Should I try for it? Turn my systems back on for the last bit? The gates always kept bandits at bay due to their alert systems. No chip no entry basically. I could still get shot though. My mind whirred as fast as I slammed into the pedals. I was almost to the line when my systems came fully online. My decoy had been attacked and destroyed. I gunned it. In the distance a light flicked on and the sound of a sad engine roared. Fuckity fuck! I pulled my taser gun that shot little electrified balls. They didn’t kill but they caused momentary paralysis. If they hit an electrical system, they fried it. I placed a hand over the stem of my bike and took aim. The light belonged to a sad motorbike that was in desperate need of work. The man on it didn’t appear much better. I let a bullet fly. At the sound he swerved in an attempt to avoid my shot. The bike lost traction on the water, launching the rider. I took aim again and shot at the bike. It hit true causing the bike to hiss and pop as the electrical system fried. If there were more bandits, it didn’t matter. The gates to the city were opened a hologram above welcoming me. I rolled my eyes. If I was truly welcome the damn university would have given me housing. After a brief checkpoint I was on my way to the shiny building that was the main hall. Around me, fancy electric cars quietly zipped about heading to their respective places. I always stuck out. My dinky ancient steal bike that was jerry rigged would never fit into a world filled with perfect shine and finish. I parked my bike in the small bike parking area under the main hall. Then I stripped off my sopping wet rain gear. With a breath I settled myself. Everytime I entered the building it was like walking into a new being. I held my head higher, My shoulders back. It was hard not to be proud. I was after all the top student after having gotten in for hacking the city's main frame and shutting it down. Had I threatened the city with an ultimatum? Maybe. But I got to go to the university for it.
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.	“...Light traffic on the 680, looks… short commute…. Accidents…” I smack the top of my radio. “Now for the weather wi-” I turn it off. I’m not here to listen to the weather report. Same thing, day after day. I brush the crumbs off of me and stack my cup on the plate, before bringing it to the sink and adding it to the pile. I’ll give them a wash when I get back. It’s still dark when I head out the door. Winter is the fucking worst, honestly. Nothing worse than leaving when it’s dark and coming home when it’s dark. At least the sky is starting to lighten. I make sure to pick a path slightly off the side of the road in the tall grass. There’s a real absence of cover on my commute, which sucks, but it’s not too bad. I can just duck down and that works for about 95% of any encounters. When I first started, I used the cars as cover, but then I realized a lot of things liked to live in and under the burned wreckages of cars. Now I have a scar on my ankle and I stay off the road. I crest a hill and I’m confronted with the sight of a massive horde of stick-worm thralls. Just slowly lumbering across the road. Just what I need. Closer, I see a figure crouched behind a shell of a car. Must be Theo. I start down the hill towards the car wreck. His eyes widen with recognition “What are you doing, idiot! Are you trying to get me killed?” he whispers. “Jeez, just trying to say hi.” I respond Probably just nerves, I thought. Commuting always sucks at first and he's taking longer to get used to it than most. I quickly glance under the car. All clear. “What if they see you? They’ll fucking kill us!” “The only thing they’re killing is my attendance this term”, I reply. “Honestly Theo, they’re pretty harmless as long as you don’t make super sudden movements, or yell, or start bleeding for some reason.” “You’re insane” “I’m insane, yeah. Let’s see who dies of heart disease first, me or you. Something tells me it’s gonna be the guy that shits his pants in panic every commute. What are you gonna do when something actually happens? Panic more? I don’t think that's possible.” He just glares at me. “Andddddd, we’re good. Hopefully no stragglers, right?” I said. "Let's stay off the road." I start towards the school again. As we walk, I try to make a little small talk. “You know, this commute is actually shorter than the one I had before the apocalypse?” No response. I continue. “Not even kidding. Usually took me over two hours, believe it or not. Now it’s closer to an hour thirty. Pretty sweet. No asshole drivers anymore, either.” “Yeah, instead you pester me for an hour.” Theo said bitterly. “I like to think this is fun, productive conversation. Imagine how boring it would be without me here?” “So boring. I wouldn’t know what I would do without you, Ava. Maybe I’ll have to walk in silence. Imagine that.” “Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Theo. I know the world ended, but you don’t need to spit on the grave of civilization like that.” As we pass a car, Theo walks to the left of it while I ass it on the right. In that half a second of separation, Theo disappears from sight. Fuck. I unsheathe my knife and jump on top of the car to try and see what took him. Giant arthropod, maybe? It was a little wetter than usual this winter. As I peer over, I see him just crouching behind the wheel well. That asshole. I kick some dirt from the top of the car into his face. Theo’s just bent over laughing at this point. I can’t help but smile a little, either. I still punch him in the arm, though. “Oh man, you should have seen the look on your face” He wheezed. “I can’t believe I finally got you” “Fuck you, theo” I said. I try to be angry, but I can’t. Pretty harmless as a prank, and it did get me. “Consider that revenge for the two hundred times you scared the shit out of me” “I’ll get you on the way back. Promise” “Oh, we’re here now,” He said. Was that a little wistfulness I heard? “See you later, I guess,” “Yeah, see you” He said and walked towards his classes. I was 30 minutes late to the lecture but I couldn’t keep a smile off my face.	I pushed the branch out of the way and glanced out. Rain. It was pouring creating walls that swept across the barren land. Above, the sky was still dark, causing any light to stick out. It would make the journey more dangerous. But I had no choice. If I failed to show I would lose everything. The wonderful bargain I had made. Sell us your soul and we will help you out of your situation. Fuckers. Be thankful that you even got this opportunity, dweller. I let the branch slap back over in front of the window. The rain echoed on the roof. Thankfully at least there were no leaks. My computers and systems were safe. I began to get ready. Rain pants, followed by a raincoat. Both grey to match the barren land. My bag I had packed the night before was ready and charged, though now I would have to switch it over to the hard plastic one to protect my computer. I checked my bike making sure the battery was charged as well. The last thing I needed was for it to die mid way, leaving me stranded in the barrens. Everything was ready. I chugged the last bit of coffee before opening the hatch in the floor. First I lowered my bike down to the base of the tree. Then myself. I checked the cameras one last time to make sure that there was no one on the outside. I really did not need anyone to find my tree house. The coast was clear and I quickly popped out. Turning I made sure the door in the trunk closed completely concealing its existence. Everything looked good. Just a normal tree in the wood. With a deep breath I walked my bike to the tree line. There seemed to be no one. But it was hard to say. The rain wasn’t letting up making it impossible to see anything farther than a stones throw out. Time was ticking, I had no choice but to start off. With a kick of the pedals the bike hummed to life. I made sure to turn off all the lights so as not to glow and get spotted. The rain felt like small bullets upon my coat. The sound was a loud roar in my ears. My systems were reading clear at least. No other electric activity nearby. Hopefully the rain would keep all of the bandits at bay. They were not prepared for rain, but sometimes that didn’t stop them from trying. My biggest worry was the one collective I had to go through. That was typically where the problem laid. That and the gate to the city. In the distance I could just begin to make out the silhouette of the huts. The small buildings glowed a warm amber from the lights within. It wasn’t safe to have lights on, but if they did, maybe they had no sign of bandits. As I approached my systems began to pick of electric current. Not vehicular though. The signals were steady, more like generators or lights. I sped up as I passed the first hut. No one was out. Tin covered the windows causing the light to leak out the edges and cause the glow. All the people appeared to be hunkering down for the storm. Good. Once through I came to my most hated part. The desert. There was nothing. No rocks, nor trees. Not even hills. The land looked like a flat grey plane that went on infinitely. At least here, I could not get sneaked up on. The downside was, it was easy to get lost. With the rain I was solely dependent on my system to keep me heading in the correct direction. After what seemed like an eternity the lights of the university and surrounding city glowed on the horizon. Almost there. My system flashed red alerting me to a vehicle. Fantastic. I quickly grabbed the decoy from behind my seat. With any luck the rain would help it in its mission. My system began the countdown to activation. The decoy would turn on and my bike would turn off. It would mimic my bikes electrical signal and head in a different direction. In theory allowing me to continue undetected. The only downside was that my bike was now just a bike. If the decoy didn’t work, I wouldn’t be able to pedal fast enough, nor would the system power up quick enough to make a clean escape. It had happened twice before, but I had managed to still get to class. If third time's the charm, I was screwed. I strained my ears to hear anything, but all I could hear was the sound of rain on my hood. The city grew closer the gates now discernible. Should I try for it? Turn my systems back on for the last bit? The gates always kept bandits at bay due to their alert systems. No chip no entry basically. I could still get shot though. My mind whirred as fast as I slammed into the pedals. I was almost to the line when my systems came fully online. My decoy had been attacked and destroyed. I gunned it. In the distance a light flicked on and the sound of a sad engine roared. Fuckity fuck! I pulled my taser gun that shot little electrified balls. They didn’t kill but they caused momentary paralysis. If they hit an electrical system, they fried it. I placed a hand over the stem of my bike and took aim. The light belonged to a sad motorbike that was in desperate need of work. The man on it didn’t appear much better. I let a bullet fly. At the sound he swerved in an attempt to avoid my shot. The bike lost traction on the water, launching the rider. I took aim again and shot at the bike. It hit true causing the bike to hiss and pop as the electrical system fried. If there were more bandits, it didn’t matter. The gates to the city were opened a hologram above welcoming me. I rolled my eyes. If I was truly welcome the damn university would have given me housing. After a brief checkpoint I was on my way to the shiny building that was the main hall. Around me, fancy electric cars quietly zipped about heading to their respective places. I always stuck out. My dinky ancient steal bike that was jerry rigged would never fit into a world filled with perfect shine and finish. I parked my bike in the small bike parking area under the main hall. Then I stripped off my sopping wet rain gear. With a breath I settled myself. Everytime I entered the building it was like walking into a new being. I held my head higher, My shoulders back. It was hard not to be proud. I was after all the top student after having gotten in for hacking the city's main frame and shutting it down. Had I threatened the city with an ultimatum? Maybe. But I got to go to the university for it.
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.	'Greetings young Aspirant, it is with great pleasure to inform you that among thousands of distinguished individuals... YOU ____ have been selected. That despite our excruciatingly stringent examination process, YOU ____ have emerged supreme above the rest of the candidates. YOU ____ have displayed exemplary ingenuity, a vast knowledge of the sciences and a brilliant philosophical take on the theory of Automaton self-identity.' Lilly examined the crumpled parchment paper for the hundredth time as she ambled through the mud and dirt with a big smile on her face. For every YOU ____ there was her name, scribbled in like chicken scratch. She looked up at the scornful sun, then looked down at the letter. A bead of sweat had apparently landed impeccably on her name. "Oh no!" It was smudged now, and Lilly desperately tried to wipe the sweat away, lest her sweat soil her name further. She blew on it. A moment later and it came away as merely a blank ____. She would have to write her name in again later, but that would require some form of inking implement. Something that no one in her village had possessed in centuries. She let out a tearful sigh, then continued her hundredth examination of the letter. 'It is with great enthusiasm that we invite YOU ____ , one of the very few successful Aspirants, to attend the illustrious S.O.S. (Sanctuary of Scholars). It is here where YOU ____ will harness the prodigious aspirations hidden within you and inspire a NEW WORLD.' "A new world," she felt the word with her tongue, a majestically sweet endeavor rolling around in her mouth. Oh, how grand it was for her to just imagine what kind of future the Scholars had in mind for this tarnished world of rubble and decay. "Ahhh~ I can't wait!" 'Our schedule begins this fall, and we will be glad to welcome you to join our prestigious community of Aspirants. Perhaps, you will one day even join the Great Hall of Scholars.' Lilly shook with excitement at the prospects of being inducted into the Great Hall of Scholars. "The Thirteenth Scholar..." she rolled the magnificent title in her mouth. So far only twelve Scholars have existed in history, and for centuries it had remained that way. Twelve Scholars whose accomplishments and contributions had changed the world so drastically that they had become eminent idols of the Academia. If she could become the Thirteenth Scholar, then she would finally be able to prove to her parents and her fellow villagers back home that she was not just an eccentric kid who spent to much time buried in her books. 'It is no secret where S.O.S. lies. Our location is a beacon of intellect and genius after all. But just as so, great things are coveted by all, including those who are undeserving and ignoble. Your first test is simple. YOU ____ must trek the wasteland and attend our welcoming ceremony before the fall of the summer solstice. Good luck and may the twelve scholars be with you! 'P.S. SOS is not responsible for any harm, or fatality incurred on this Aspirant's endevaour for enlightenment.' Lilly shoved a fist into the air. "BUH-YAH!" she roared. She had planned months for this trip. The Sanctuary of Scholars was indeed a beacon of ingenuity. It was virtually impenetrable. No raider, or faction had ever succeeded in penetrating its magnificent invisible bubble. A shimmering phenomenon of technology that no one had ever been able to reproduce. It was ancient no doubt. Lilly was sure of that and perhaps she would be one of the few who would unravel its mysteries. Lilly suddenly found herself inside a thick brush. She had finally waded through the fifthly sludge of decay and radiation, and now she was lost in a giant brush. Lilly slipped her hand into her backpack and whipped out her vorpal saw. She flicked the switch, and a laser extended along the edge of the crescent-shaped blade. She began hacking away, when suddenly, she saw something green pop into view. She looked up and suddenly found herself in a staring contest with a hulking green, mutant. She froze, stock still despite all of her instincts screaming to run. No human could match a Super mutant in physical combat. That was basic wisdom among the wasteland, and yet Lilly was having a staring contest with one. Then, before she knew it, she was making a mad dash towards the mutant with her vorpal blade raised above her head. "Whoah, Whoah, watch where you're swinging that thing!" the mutant shouted. Lilly froze again, this time for an entirely different reason. "Yo-you can talk?" she asked, puzzled. "Of course! What do you take me for? A mad blade-swinging imbecile?" "Bu-but... you're... a..." she pointed at his green, burly chest. "Hey now, just because I'm green doesn't mean I'm a savage, warmongering super-mutant out to conquer the world. That's racist you know." "Oh," she nodded understandably, then noticed a familiar crumpled piece of paper in his big green hand. "What's that paper in your hand?" --------- --------- /r/em_pathy [Part 2 Here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/Em_pathy/comments/a6f1p1/the_sanctuary_of_scholars_part_2/?)	I pushed the branch out of the way and glanced out. Rain. It was pouring creating walls that swept across the barren land. Above, the sky was still dark, causing any light to stick out. It would make the journey more dangerous. But I had no choice. If I failed to show I would lose everything. The wonderful bargain I had made. Sell us your soul and we will help you out of your situation. Fuckers. Be thankful that you even got this opportunity, dweller. I let the branch slap back over in front of the window. The rain echoed on the roof. Thankfully at least there were no leaks. My computers and systems were safe. I began to get ready. Rain pants, followed by a raincoat. Both grey to match the barren land. My bag I had packed the night before was ready and charged, though now I would have to switch it over to the hard plastic one to protect my computer. I checked my bike making sure the battery was charged as well. The last thing I needed was for it to die mid way, leaving me stranded in the barrens. Everything was ready. I chugged the last bit of coffee before opening the hatch in the floor. First I lowered my bike down to the base of the tree. Then myself. I checked the cameras one last time to make sure that there was no one on the outside. I really did not need anyone to find my tree house. The coast was clear and I quickly popped out. Turning I made sure the door in the trunk closed completely concealing its existence. Everything looked good. Just a normal tree in the wood. With a deep breath I walked my bike to the tree line. There seemed to be no one. But it was hard to say. The rain wasn’t letting up making it impossible to see anything farther than a stones throw out. Time was ticking, I had no choice but to start off. With a kick of the pedals the bike hummed to life. I made sure to turn off all the lights so as not to glow and get spotted. The rain felt like small bullets upon my coat. The sound was a loud roar in my ears. My systems were reading clear at least. No other electric activity nearby. Hopefully the rain would keep all of the bandits at bay. They were not prepared for rain, but sometimes that didn’t stop them from trying. My biggest worry was the one collective I had to go through. That was typically where the problem laid. That and the gate to the city. In the distance I could just begin to make out the silhouette of the huts. The small buildings glowed a warm amber from the lights within. It wasn’t safe to have lights on, but if they did, maybe they had no sign of bandits. As I approached my systems began to pick of electric current. Not vehicular though. The signals were steady, more like generators or lights. I sped up as I passed the first hut. No one was out. Tin covered the windows causing the light to leak out the edges and cause the glow. All the people appeared to be hunkering down for the storm. Good. Once through I came to my most hated part. The desert. There was nothing. No rocks, nor trees. Not even hills. The land looked like a flat grey plane that went on infinitely. At least here, I could not get sneaked up on. The downside was, it was easy to get lost. With the rain I was solely dependent on my system to keep me heading in the correct direction. After what seemed like an eternity the lights of the university and surrounding city glowed on the horizon. Almost there. My system flashed red alerting me to a vehicle. Fantastic. I quickly grabbed the decoy from behind my seat. With any luck the rain would help it in its mission. My system began the countdown to activation. The decoy would turn on and my bike would turn off. It would mimic my bikes electrical signal and head in a different direction. In theory allowing me to continue undetected. The only downside was that my bike was now just a bike. If the decoy didn’t work, I wouldn’t be able to pedal fast enough, nor would the system power up quick enough to make a clean escape. It had happened twice before, but I had managed to still get to class. If third time's the charm, I was screwed. I strained my ears to hear anything, but all I could hear was the sound of rain on my hood. The city grew closer the gates now discernible. Should I try for it? Turn my systems back on for the last bit? The gates always kept bandits at bay due to their alert systems. No chip no entry basically. I could still get shot though. My mind whirred as fast as I slammed into the pedals. I was almost to the line when my systems came fully online. My decoy had been attacked and destroyed. I gunned it. In the distance a light flicked on and the sound of a sad engine roared. Fuckity fuck! I pulled my taser gun that shot little electrified balls. They didn’t kill but they caused momentary paralysis. If they hit an electrical system, they fried it. I placed a hand over the stem of my bike and took aim. The light belonged to a sad motorbike that was in desperate need of work. The man on it didn’t appear much better. I let a bullet fly. At the sound he swerved in an attempt to avoid my shot. The bike lost traction on the water, launching the rider. I took aim again and shot at the bike. It hit true causing the bike to hiss and pop as the electrical system fried. If there were more bandits, it didn’t matter. The gates to the city were opened a hologram above welcoming me. I rolled my eyes. If I was truly welcome the damn university would have given me housing. After a brief checkpoint I was on my way to the shiny building that was the main hall. Around me, fancy electric cars quietly zipped about heading to their respective places. I always stuck out. My dinky ancient steal bike that was jerry rigged would never fit into a world filled with perfect shine and finish. I parked my bike in the small bike parking area under the main hall. Then I stripped off my sopping wet rain gear. With a breath I settled myself. Everytime I entered the building it was like walking into a new being. I held my head higher, My shoulders back. It was hard not to be proud. I was after all the top student after having gotten in for hacking the city's main frame and shutting it down. Had I threatened the city with an ultimatum? Maybe. But I got to go to the university for it.
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.	I used to stick to the tunnels. Remnants of the drainage system that ran beneath the city. but eventually even those became inhabited by the riders. at one time you only had to worry about the mutated rats and swarms of fire cockroaches. we found long ago that wearing a jacket or cloak sprayed in mutant ravens blood, they all left you alone. but not the riders. the gang of starving "people" that preyed on anything that moved. Often deformed, very territorial, and viciously violent. Now I could only use half of the tunnel system that i used to be able to. I lead from my family's keep to about halfway to the college. I had to get out of the tunnel system at a junction we called the crater. Long ago an explosion had created a 150 foot wide hole in the ground above one of the city squares. the subway tunnels were of course full of drifters and riders first. but there was a small access tunnel that used to have wires and pipes run in it that had been buried and forgotten about for a long time. that was our way around. we made sure to cover it up when we weren't using it. and were very cautious about when we entered or left it. someone had clearly seen one of us enter it or exit it. because one day we went to go to the college when we were attacked by a rider. luckily we had gotten the better of the attacker and were able to escape with our lives. but it meant that we could never again risk using the tunnel. I started off before first light. most of the drifters and riders would still be asleep or at least gathering their supplies from whatever encampment they stayed at the previous night. so it was slightly safer to travel. the biggest problem with travelling on the surface was that if you had cover, so did an enemy. every dune, every building, every tree was something someone could hide behind and wait for easy pickings. I had found that going from tree to tree in quick sprints, resting and observing was safest. It took me 2 hours to get to the college every day doing it this way, but it was safer than walking the artery into the city that was often packed with traders, mercenaries, riders, and drifters. the artery was called that because it was a violent bloody road. yes, you could get to the city. but you'd be stepping over slain people. mostly drifters and traders who would be killed for what they had. even if it was almost nothing. you'd see the bodies of riders on the road as well, but generally they were better armed and sometimes had armor. today started the same way. I slipped on my black pants and dark grey hoodie shirt, then grabbed my charcoal grey canvas rucksack. The rucksack had my school books, a snack for breakfast and the journey, some survival items, my knife, and my revolver. Weapons weren't officially allowed at the school, but most of the teachers would look the other way for the students who lived in the subland areas. "Okay, let's do this" I said aloud as strapped my pistol holster to my belt. I unbolted the door and walked out. I said that phrase every day. like a sort of rally speech for myself. The hallway was damp and musty. the door to the ruined building just 20 feet away into the wasteland. Crying and yelling was heard almost always in the complex. it had become commonplace and no one paid attention to it. walking out the door to the wasteland, I looked cautiously around. "Click click" I heard the sound of a hammer being cocked back. beside me in the dark someone had waited.	Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing! I flail around in the dark, trying to shut my alarm up. My hand smacks into the cold metal of the old clock, but I fumble blindly with the buttons and switches before I successfully turn it off. I crack my eyes open, and take a breath of the radon-laced air. I look at the clock. 7:05 AM. I’m late. I leap out of bed, cursing loudly. “Watch your mouth!” It’s my mom. “Sorry!” I brush my teeth, and run downstairs, where a bowl of cold, dry cereal greets me. I wolf it down, then chug a glass of water, not even bothering to test it with a Geiger counter. Besides, I love the taste of cobalt-60 in the morning. I run to the van- a former troop carrier we found a couple years ago. Sure, it guzzles fuel like there’s no tomorrow, but Michigan roads sucked even before the Bombing. Now? You need an armored military vehicle just to drive to college. And, in this world… there might not be a tomorrow. It all started fifteen years ago. Relations with the former Russian Federation were getting tenser and tenser, and each new President was only making the situation worse. Then, we bombed the Russian troops in the Middle East, Putin lost it, and one hundred American cities went up in a cloud of nuclear fire. Washington, D.C. New York. Chicago. Los Angeles. Detroit. I was one of the lucky ones. Over a hundred million were killed in that brazen terrorist attack. We retaliated, but by then, the damage had been done. Nuclear winter caused a worldwide famine, the EMP’s wiped out 90% of every bit of technology made after 2000, and radioactive dust polluted the atmosphere, the water, the earth itself. It fell to us to rebuild. Which is why, at 7:15 in the morning, I have to wake up and go to college. I sling my bag into the passenger seat of the van, and begin the hour-long drive to Ann Arbor. The University of Michigan had suffered some damage in the Bombing, but much of it was still standing. The van bumps and jolts as it drives over roads that were terrible when new and even worse when left unmaintained. Snow blankets the ground, three inches deep. The electronic clock from the troop carrier is non-functional- but that’s why I have my dad’s watch, a handsome Shinola with a leather band. He’d been working in Detroit during the Bombing. His watch had survived, somehow. He wasn’t so lucky. My mom worked enough to pay the bills, and I managed to wrangle a scholarship to the University of Michigan. I wanted to help her out, but she insisted I go to college and help rebuild this broken world. I look up, and see I’m approaching the city of Detroit. Detroit was once an industrial powerhouse- but that was in 1950. Even in 2000, it was a shadow of its former self. Now? It’s a ruin. Anyone who was alive after the Bombing fled. All that remains are glass spires harkening to a bygone era… and traffic lights. Red light. I bring the troop carrier to a grinding stop. I take a peek at the watch. 7:45 AM. The light turns green, and I slam on the accelerator, hoping the ancient van will get me to class on time. As I close in on Ann Arbor, I am confronted by a gang of people. The AnTechs, they call themselves. They believed our technology was the cause of all this destruction. They hated the University, wanted to see it torn down. Idiots. Twenty of them stood in front of the van. I blared the horn, but they didn’t move. Part of me wanted to just run them over, but I couldn’t. “Leave now, technologist!” “What are you studying?” “Warmonger!” I wanted to fix their lives, but they were likely to kill me if I even poked my head out of the van. So I kept blasting the horn, waiting for them to clear up. They didn’t. Worse yet, class was in three minutes. I started the van’s engine, and inched it forward. They started slowly stepping out of the way, and those who didn’t were pushed aside. “Yeah, go to class!” “Learn to unleash plagues!” “Probably believes President Aurant was the cause of this.” Aurant. If it wasn’t for his anti-scientific, war-hawk presidency, we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place. And yet, these mobs believes he was some deity come to save mankind from the evils of (insert scare quotes) science! Idiots… I pull up in the parking lot next to the mechanical engineering building, kill the engine, pick up my old laptop, and leap out the door. My professor was well-known as a stickler for punctuality. I race through the corridors of the building, and push open the door. “Sorry I’m late, Prof. Slayton. It’s just been one of those days.” \\\\\\ Sorry I'm late! Just hoping I don't get buried here. Feedback welcome!
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.	“...Light traffic on the 680, looks… short commute…. Accidents…” I smack the top of my radio. “Now for the weather wi-” I turn it off. I’m not here to listen to the weather report. Same thing, day after day. I brush the crumbs off of me and stack my cup on the plate, before bringing it to the sink and adding it to the pile. I’ll give them a wash when I get back. It’s still dark when I head out the door. Winter is the fucking worst, honestly. Nothing worse than leaving when it’s dark and coming home when it’s dark. At least the sky is starting to lighten. I make sure to pick a path slightly off the side of the road in the tall grass. There’s a real absence of cover on my commute, which sucks, but it’s not too bad. I can just duck down and that works for about 95% of any encounters. When I first started, I used the cars as cover, but then I realized a lot of things liked to live in and under the burned wreckages of cars. Now I have a scar on my ankle and I stay off the road. I crest a hill and I’m confronted with the sight of a massive horde of stick-worm thralls. Just slowly lumbering across the road. Just what I need. Closer, I see a figure crouched behind a shell of a car. Must be Theo. I start down the hill towards the car wreck. His eyes widen with recognition “What are you doing, idiot! Are you trying to get me killed?” he whispers. “Jeez, just trying to say hi.” I respond Probably just nerves, I thought. Commuting always sucks at first and he's taking longer to get used to it than most. I quickly glance under the car. All clear. “What if they see you? They’ll fucking kill us!” “The only thing they’re killing is my attendance this term”, I reply. “Honestly Theo, they’re pretty harmless as long as you don’t make super sudden movements, or yell, or start bleeding for some reason.” “You’re insane” “I’m insane, yeah. Let’s see who dies of heart disease first, me or you. Something tells me it’s gonna be the guy that shits his pants in panic every commute. What are you gonna do when something actually happens? Panic more? I don’t think that's possible.” He just glares at me. “Andddddd, we’re good. Hopefully no stragglers, right?” I said. "Let's stay off the road." I start towards the school again. As we walk, I try to make a little small talk. “You know, this commute is actually shorter than the one I had before the apocalypse?” No response. I continue. “Not even kidding. Usually took me over two hours, believe it or not. Now it’s closer to an hour thirty. Pretty sweet. No asshole drivers anymore, either.” “Yeah, instead you pester me for an hour.” Theo said bitterly. “I like to think this is fun, productive conversation. Imagine how boring it would be without me here?” “So boring. I wouldn’t know what I would do without you, Ava. Maybe I’ll have to walk in silence. Imagine that.” “Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Theo. I know the world ended, but you don’t need to spit on the grave of civilization like that.” As we pass a car, Theo walks to the left of it while I ass it on the right. In that half a second of separation, Theo disappears from sight. Fuck. I unsheathe my knife and jump on top of the car to try and see what took him. Giant arthropod, maybe? It was a little wetter than usual this winter. As I peer over, I see him just crouching behind the wheel well. That asshole. I kick some dirt from the top of the car into his face. Theo’s just bent over laughing at this point. I can’t help but smile a little, either. I still punch him in the arm, though. “Oh man, you should have seen the look on your face” He wheezed. “I can’t believe I finally got you” “Fuck you, theo” I said. I try to be angry, but I can’t. Pretty harmless as a prank, and it did get me. “Consider that revenge for the two hundred times you scared the shit out of me” “I’ll get you on the way back. Promise” “Oh, we’re here now,” He said. Was that a little wistfulness I heard? “See you later, I guess,” “Yeah, see you” He said and walked towards his classes. I was 30 minutes late to the lecture but I couldn’t keep a smile off my face.	Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing! I flail around in the dark, trying to shut my alarm up. My hand smacks into the cold metal of the old clock, but I fumble blindly with the buttons and switches before I successfully turn it off. I crack my eyes open, and take a breath of the radon-laced air. I look at the clock. 7:05 AM. I’m late. I leap out of bed, cursing loudly. “Watch your mouth!” It’s my mom. “Sorry!” I brush my teeth, and run downstairs, where a bowl of cold, dry cereal greets me. I wolf it down, then chug a glass of water, not even bothering to test it with a Geiger counter. Besides, I love the taste of cobalt-60 in the morning. I run to the van- a former troop carrier we found a couple years ago. Sure, it guzzles fuel like there’s no tomorrow, but Michigan roads sucked even before the Bombing. Now? You need an armored military vehicle just to drive to college. And, in this world… there might not be a tomorrow. It all started fifteen years ago. Relations with the former Russian Federation were getting tenser and tenser, and each new President was only making the situation worse. Then, we bombed the Russian troops in the Middle East, Putin lost it, and one hundred American cities went up in a cloud of nuclear fire. Washington, D.C. New York. Chicago. Los Angeles. Detroit. I was one of the lucky ones. Over a hundred million were killed in that brazen terrorist attack. We retaliated, but by then, the damage had been done. Nuclear winter caused a worldwide famine, the EMP’s wiped out 90% of every bit of technology made after 2000, and radioactive dust polluted the atmosphere, the water, the earth itself. It fell to us to rebuild. Which is why, at 7:15 in the morning, I have to wake up and go to college. I sling my bag into the passenger seat of the van, and begin the hour-long drive to Ann Arbor. The University of Michigan had suffered some damage in the Bombing, but much of it was still standing. The van bumps and jolts as it drives over roads that were terrible when new and even worse when left unmaintained. Snow blankets the ground, three inches deep. The electronic clock from the troop carrier is non-functional- but that’s why I have my dad’s watch, a handsome Shinola with a leather band. He’d been working in Detroit during the Bombing. His watch had survived, somehow. He wasn’t so lucky. My mom worked enough to pay the bills, and I managed to wrangle a scholarship to the University of Michigan. I wanted to help her out, but she insisted I go to college and help rebuild this broken world. I look up, and see I’m approaching the city of Detroit. Detroit was once an industrial powerhouse- but that was in 1950. Even in 2000, it was a shadow of its former self. Now? It’s a ruin. Anyone who was alive after the Bombing fled. All that remains are glass spires harkening to a bygone era… and traffic lights. Red light. I bring the troop carrier to a grinding stop. I take a peek at the watch. 7:45 AM. The light turns green, and I slam on the accelerator, hoping the ancient van will get me to class on time. As I close in on Ann Arbor, I am confronted by a gang of people. The AnTechs, they call themselves. They believed our technology was the cause of all this destruction. They hated the University, wanted to see it torn down. Idiots. Twenty of them stood in front of the van. I blared the horn, but they didn’t move. Part of me wanted to just run them over, but I couldn’t. “Leave now, technologist!” “What are you studying?” “Warmonger!” I wanted to fix their lives, but they were likely to kill me if I even poked my head out of the van. So I kept blasting the horn, waiting for them to clear up. They didn’t. Worse yet, class was in three minutes. I started the van’s engine, and inched it forward. They started slowly stepping out of the way, and those who didn’t were pushed aside. “Yeah, go to class!” “Learn to unleash plagues!” “Probably believes President Aurant was the cause of this.” Aurant. If it wasn’t for his anti-scientific, war-hawk presidency, we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place. And yet, these mobs believes he was some deity come to save mankind from the evils of (insert scare quotes) science! Idiots… I pull up in the parking lot next to the mechanical engineering building, kill the engine, pick up my old laptop, and leap out the door. My professor was well-known as a stickler for punctuality. I race through the corridors of the building, and push open the door. “Sorry I’m late, Prof. Slayton. It’s just been one of those days.” \\\\\\ Sorry I'm late! Just hoping I don't get buried here. Feedback welcome!
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.	'Greetings young Aspirant, it is with great pleasure to inform you that among thousands of distinguished individuals... YOU ____ have been selected. That despite our excruciatingly stringent examination process, YOU ____ have emerged supreme above the rest of the candidates. YOU ____ have displayed exemplary ingenuity, a vast knowledge of the sciences and a brilliant philosophical take on the theory of Automaton self-identity.' Lilly examined the crumpled parchment paper for the hundredth time as she ambled through the mud and dirt with a big smile on her face. For every YOU ____ there was her name, scribbled in like chicken scratch. She looked up at the scornful sun, then looked down at the letter. A bead of sweat had apparently landed impeccably on her name. "Oh no!" It was smudged now, and Lilly desperately tried to wipe the sweat away, lest her sweat soil her name further. She blew on it. A moment later and it came away as merely a blank ____. She would have to write her name in again later, but that would require some form of inking implement. Something that no one in her village had possessed in centuries. She let out a tearful sigh, then continued her hundredth examination of the letter. 'It is with great enthusiasm that we invite YOU ____ , one of the very few successful Aspirants, to attend the illustrious S.O.S. (Sanctuary of Scholars). It is here where YOU ____ will harness the prodigious aspirations hidden within you and inspire a NEW WORLD.' "A new world," she felt the word with her tongue, a majestically sweet endeavor rolling around in her mouth. Oh, how grand it was for her to just imagine what kind of future the Scholars had in mind for this tarnished world of rubble and decay. "Ahhh~ I can't wait!" 'Our schedule begins this fall, and we will be glad to welcome you to join our prestigious community of Aspirants. Perhaps, you will one day even join the Great Hall of Scholars.' Lilly shook with excitement at the prospects of being inducted into the Great Hall of Scholars. "The Thirteenth Scholar..." she rolled the magnificent title in her mouth. So far only twelve Scholars have existed in history, and for centuries it had remained that way. Twelve Scholars whose accomplishments and contributions had changed the world so drastically that they had become eminent idols of the Academia. If she could become the Thirteenth Scholar, then she would finally be able to prove to her parents and her fellow villagers back home that she was not just an eccentric kid who spent to much time buried in her books. 'It is no secret where S.O.S. lies. Our location is a beacon of intellect and genius after all. But just as so, great things are coveted by all, including those who are undeserving and ignoble. Your first test is simple. YOU ____ must trek the wasteland and attend our welcoming ceremony before the fall of the summer solstice. Good luck and may the twelve scholars be with you! 'P.S. SOS is not responsible for any harm, or fatality incurred on this Aspirant's endevaour for enlightenment.' Lilly shoved a fist into the air. "BUH-YAH!" she roared. She had planned months for this trip. The Sanctuary of Scholars was indeed a beacon of ingenuity. It was virtually impenetrable. No raider, or faction had ever succeeded in penetrating its magnificent invisible bubble. A shimmering phenomenon of technology that no one had ever been able to reproduce. It was ancient no doubt. Lilly was sure of that and perhaps she would be one of the few who would unravel its mysteries. Lilly suddenly found herself inside a thick brush. She had finally waded through the fifthly sludge of decay and radiation, and now she was lost in a giant brush. Lilly slipped her hand into her backpack and whipped out her vorpal saw. She flicked the switch, and a laser extended along the edge of the crescent-shaped blade. She began hacking away, when suddenly, she saw something green pop into view. She looked up and suddenly found herself in a staring contest with a hulking green, mutant. She froze, stock still despite all of her instincts screaming to run. No human could match a Super mutant in physical combat. That was basic wisdom among the wasteland, and yet Lilly was having a staring contest with one. Then, before she knew it, she was making a mad dash towards the mutant with her vorpal blade raised above her head. "Whoah, Whoah, watch where you're swinging that thing!" the mutant shouted. Lilly froze again, this time for an entirely different reason. "Yo-you can talk?" she asked, puzzled. "Of course! What do you take me for? A mad blade-swinging imbecile?" "Bu-but... you're... a..." she pointed at his green, burly chest. "Hey now, just because I'm green doesn't mean I'm a savage, warmongering super-mutant out to conquer the world. That's racist you know." "Oh," she nodded understandably, then noticed a familiar crumpled piece of paper in his big green hand. "What's that paper in your hand?" --------- --------- /r/em_pathy [Part 2 Here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/Em_pathy/comments/a6f1p1/the_sanctuary_of_scholars_part_2/?)	Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing! I flail around in the dark, trying to shut my alarm up. My hand smacks into the cold metal of the old clock, but I fumble blindly with the buttons and switches before I successfully turn it off. I crack my eyes open, and take a breath of the radon-laced air. I look at the clock. 7:05 AM. I’m late. I leap out of bed, cursing loudly. “Watch your mouth!” It’s my mom. “Sorry!” I brush my teeth, and run downstairs, where a bowl of cold, dry cereal greets me. I wolf it down, then chug a glass of water, not even bothering to test it with a Geiger counter. Besides, I love the taste of cobalt-60 in the morning. I run to the van- a former troop carrier we found a couple years ago. Sure, it guzzles fuel like there’s no tomorrow, but Michigan roads sucked even before the Bombing. Now? You need an armored military vehicle just to drive to college. And, in this world… there might not be a tomorrow. It all started fifteen years ago. Relations with the former Russian Federation were getting tenser and tenser, and each new President was only making the situation worse. Then, we bombed the Russian troops in the Middle East, Putin lost it, and one hundred American cities went up in a cloud of nuclear fire. Washington, D.C. New York. Chicago. Los Angeles. Detroit. I was one of the lucky ones. Over a hundred million were killed in that brazen terrorist attack. We retaliated, but by then, the damage had been done. Nuclear winter caused a worldwide famine, the EMP’s wiped out 90% of every bit of technology made after 2000, and radioactive dust polluted the atmosphere, the water, the earth itself. It fell to us to rebuild. Which is why, at 7:15 in the morning, I have to wake up and go to college. I sling my bag into the passenger seat of the van, and begin the hour-long drive to Ann Arbor. The University of Michigan had suffered some damage in the Bombing, but much of it was still standing. The van bumps and jolts as it drives over roads that were terrible when new and even worse when left unmaintained. Snow blankets the ground, three inches deep. The electronic clock from the troop carrier is non-functional- but that’s why I have my dad’s watch, a handsome Shinola with a leather band. He’d been working in Detroit during the Bombing. His watch had survived, somehow. He wasn’t so lucky. My mom worked enough to pay the bills, and I managed to wrangle a scholarship to the University of Michigan. I wanted to help her out, but she insisted I go to college and help rebuild this broken world. I look up, and see I’m approaching the city of Detroit. Detroit was once an industrial powerhouse- but that was in 1950. Even in 2000, it was a shadow of its former self. Now? It’s a ruin. Anyone who was alive after the Bombing fled. All that remains are glass spires harkening to a bygone era… and traffic lights. Red light. I bring the troop carrier to a grinding stop. I take a peek at the watch. 7:45 AM. The light turns green, and I slam on the accelerator, hoping the ancient van will get me to class on time. As I close in on Ann Arbor, I am confronted by a gang of people. The AnTechs, they call themselves. They believed our technology was the cause of all this destruction. They hated the University, wanted to see it torn down. Idiots. Twenty of them stood in front of the van. I blared the horn, but they didn’t move. Part of me wanted to just run them over, but I couldn’t. “Leave now, technologist!” “What are you studying?” “Warmonger!” I wanted to fix their lives, but they were likely to kill me if I even poked my head out of the van. So I kept blasting the horn, waiting for them to clear up. They didn’t. Worse yet, class was in three minutes. I started the van’s engine, and inched it forward. They started slowly stepping out of the way, and those who didn’t were pushed aside. “Yeah, go to class!” “Learn to unleash plagues!” “Probably believes President Aurant was the cause of this.” Aurant. If it wasn’t for his anti-scientific, war-hawk presidency, we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place. And yet, these mobs believes he was some deity come to save mankind from the evils of (insert scare quotes) science! Idiots… I pull up in the parking lot next to the mechanical engineering building, kill the engine, pick up my old laptop, and leap out the door. My professor was well-known as a stickler for punctuality. I race through the corridors of the building, and push open the door. “Sorry I’m late, Prof. Slayton. It’s just been one of those days.” \\\\\\ Sorry I'm late! Just hoping I don't get buried here. Feedback welcome!
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.	“...Light traffic on the 680, looks… short commute…. Accidents…” I smack the top of my radio. “Now for the weather wi-” I turn it off. I’m not here to listen to the weather report. Same thing, day after day. I brush the crumbs off of me and stack my cup on the plate, before bringing it to the sink and adding it to the pile. I’ll give them a wash when I get back. It’s still dark when I head out the door. Winter is the fucking worst, honestly. Nothing worse than leaving when it’s dark and coming home when it’s dark. At least the sky is starting to lighten. I make sure to pick a path slightly off the side of the road in the tall grass. There’s a real absence of cover on my commute, which sucks, but it’s not too bad. I can just duck down and that works for about 95% of any encounters. When I first started, I used the cars as cover, but then I realized a lot of things liked to live in and under the burned wreckages of cars. Now I have a scar on my ankle and I stay off the road. I crest a hill and I’m confronted with the sight of a massive horde of stick-worm thralls. Just slowly lumbering across the road. Just what I need. Closer, I see a figure crouched behind a shell of a car. Must be Theo. I start down the hill towards the car wreck. His eyes widen with recognition “What are you doing, idiot! Are you trying to get me killed?” he whispers. “Jeez, just trying to say hi.” I respond Probably just nerves, I thought. Commuting always sucks at first and he's taking longer to get used to it than most. I quickly glance under the car. All clear. “What if they see you? They’ll fucking kill us!” “The only thing they’re killing is my attendance this term”, I reply. “Honestly Theo, they’re pretty harmless as long as you don’t make super sudden movements, or yell, or start bleeding for some reason.” “You’re insane” “I’m insane, yeah. Let’s see who dies of heart disease first, me or you. Something tells me it’s gonna be the guy that shits his pants in panic every commute. What are you gonna do when something actually happens? Panic more? I don’t think that's possible.” He just glares at me. “Andddddd, we’re good. Hopefully no stragglers, right?” I said. "Let's stay off the road." I start towards the school again. As we walk, I try to make a little small talk. “You know, this commute is actually shorter than the one I had before the apocalypse?” No response. I continue. “Not even kidding. Usually took me over two hours, believe it or not. Now it’s closer to an hour thirty. Pretty sweet. No asshole drivers anymore, either.” “Yeah, instead you pester me for an hour.” Theo said bitterly. “I like to think this is fun, productive conversation. Imagine how boring it would be without me here?” “So boring. I wouldn’t know what I would do without you, Ava. Maybe I’ll have to walk in silence. Imagine that.” “Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Theo. I know the world ended, but you don’t need to spit on the grave of civilization like that.” As we pass a car, Theo walks to the left of it while I ass it on the right. In that half a second of separation, Theo disappears from sight. Fuck. I unsheathe my knife and jump on top of the car to try and see what took him. Giant arthropod, maybe? It was a little wetter than usual this winter. As I peer over, I see him just crouching behind the wheel well. That asshole. I kick some dirt from the top of the car into his face. Theo’s just bent over laughing at this point. I can’t help but smile a little, either. I still punch him in the arm, though. “Oh man, you should have seen the look on your face” He wheezed. “I can’t believe I finally got you” “Fuck you, theo” I said. I try to be angry, but I can’t. Pretty harmless as a prank, and it did get me. “Consider that revenge for the two hundred times you scared the shit out of me” “I’ll get you on the way back. Promise” “Oh, we’re here now,” He said. Was that a little wistfulness I heard? “See you later, I guess,” “Yeah, see you” He said and walked towards his classes. I was 30 minutes late to the lecture but I couldn’t keep a smile off my face.	I used to stick to the tunnels. Remnants of the drainage system that ran beneath the city. but eventually even those became inhabited by the riders. at one time you only had to worry about the mutated rats and swarms of fire cockroaches. we found long ago that wearing a jacket or cloak sprayed in mutant ravens blood, they all left you alone. but not the riders. the gang of starving "people" that preyed on anything that moved. Often deformed, very territorial, and viciously violent. Now I could only use half of the tunnel system that i used to be able to. I lead from my family's keep to about halfway to the college. I had to get out of the tunnel system at a junction we called the crater. Long ago an explosion had created a 150 foot wide hole in the ground above one of the city squares. the subway tunnels were of course full of drifters and riders first. but there was a small access tunnel that used to have wires and pipes run in it that had been buried and forgotten about for a long time. that was our way around. we made sure to cover it up when we weren't using it. and were very cautious about when we entered or left it. someone had clearly seen one of us enter it or exit it. because one day we went to go to the college when we were attacked by a rider. luckily we had gotten the better of the attacker and were able to escape with our lives. but it meant that we could never again risk using the tunnel. I started off before first light. most of the drifters and riders would still be asleep or at least gathering their supplies from whatever encampment they stayed at the previous night. so it was slightly safer to travel. the biggest problem with travelling on the surface was that if you had cover, so did an enemy. every dune, every building, every tree was something someone could hide behind and wait for easy pickings. I had found that going from tree to tree in quick sprints, resting and observing was safest. It took me 2 hours to get to the college every day doing it this way, but it was safer than walking the artery into the city that was often packed with traders, mercenaries, riders, and drifters. the artery was called that because it was a violent bloody road. yes, you could get to the city. but you'd be stepping over slain people. mostly drifters and traders who would be killed for what they had. even if it was almost nothing. you'd see the bodies of riders on the road as well, but generally they were better armed and sometimes had armor. today started the same way. I slipped on my black pants and dark grey hoodie shirt, then grabbed my charcoal grey canvas rucksack. The rucksack had my school books, a snack for breakfast and the journey, some survival items, my knife, and my revolver. Weapons weren't officially allowed at the school, but most of the teachers would look the other way for the students who lived in the subland areas. "Okay, let's do this" I said aloud as strapped my pistol holster to my belt. I unbolted the door and walked out. I said that phrase every day. like a sort of rally speech for myself. The hallway was damp and musty. the door to the ruined building just 20 feet away into the wasteland. Crying and yelling was heard almost always in the complex. it had become commonplace and no one paid attention to it. walking out the door to the wasteland, I looked cautiously around. "Click click" I heard the sound of a hammer being cocked back. beside me in the dark someone had waited.
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.	'Greetings young Aspirant, it is with great pleasure to inform you that among thousands of distinguished individuals... YOU ____ have been selected. That despite our excruciatingly stringent examination process, YOU ____ have emerged supreme above the rest of the candidates. YOU ____ have displayed exemplary ingenuity, a vast knowledge of the sciences and a brilliant philosophical take on the theory of Automaton self-identity.' Lilly examined the crumpled parchment paper for the hundredth time as she ambled through the mud and dirt with a big smile on her face. For every YOU ____ there was her name, scribbled in like chicken scratch. She looked up at the scornful sun, then looked down at the letter. A bead of sweat had apparently landed impeccably on her name. "Oh no!" It was smudged now, and Lilly desperately tried to wipe the sweat away, lest her sweat soil her name further. She blew on it. A moment later and it came away as merely a blank ____. She would have to write her name in again later, but that would require some form of inking implement. Something that no one in her village had possessed in centuries. She let out a tearful sigh, then continued her hundredth examination of the letter. 'It is with great enthusiasm that we invite YOU ____ , one of the very few successful Aspirants, to attend the illustrious S.O.S. (Sanctuary of Scholars). It is here where YOU ____ will harness the prodigious aspirations hidden within you and inspire a NEW WORLD.' "A new world," she felt the word with her tongue, a majestically sweet endeavor rolling around in her mouth. Oh, how grand it was for her to just imagine what kind of future the Scholars had in mind for this tarnished world of rubble and decay. "Ahhh~ I can't wait!" 'Our schedule begins this fall, and we will be glad to welcome you to join our prestigious community of Aspirants. Perhaps, you will one day even join the Great Hall of Scholars.' Lilly shook with excitement at the prospects of being inducted into the Great Hall of Scholars. "The Thirteenth Scholar..." she rolled the magnificent title in her mouth. So far only twelve Scholars have existed in history, and for centuries it had remained that way. Twelve Scholars whose accomplishments and contributions had changed the world so drastically that they had become eminent idols of the Academia. If she could become the Thirteenth Scholar, then she would finally be able to prove to her parents and her fellow villagers back home that she was not just an eccentric kid who spent to much time buried in her books. 'It is no secret where S.O.S. lies. Our location is a beacon of intellect and genius after all. But just as so, great things are coveted by all, including those who are undeserving and ignoble. Your first test is simple. YOU ____ must trek the wasteland and attend our welcoming ceremony before the fall of the summer solstice. Good luck and may the twelve scholars be with you! 'P.S. SOS is not responsible for any harm, or fatality incurred on this Aspirant's endevaour for enlightenment.' Lilly shoved a fist into the air. "BUH-YAH!" she roared. She had planned months for this trip. The Sanctuary of Scholars was indeed a beacon of ingenuity. It was virtually impenetrable. No raider, or faction had ever succeeded in penetrating its magnificent invisible bubble. A shimmering phenomenon of technology that no one had ever been able to reproduce. It was ancient no doubt. Lilly was sure of that and perhaps she would be one of the few who would unravel its mysteries. Lilly suddenly found herself inside a thick brush. She had finally waded through the fifthly sludge of decay and radiation, and now she was lost in a giant brush. Lilly slipped her hand into her backpack and whipped out her vorpal saw. She flicked the switch, and a laser extended along the edge of the crescent-shaped blade. She began hacking away, when suddenly, she saw something green pop into view. She looked up and suddenly found herself in a staring contest with a hulking green, mutant. She froze, stock still despite all of her instincts screaming to run. No human could match a Super mutant in physical combat. That was basic wisdom among the wasteland, and yet Lilly was having a staring contest with one. Then, before she knew it, she was making a mad dash towards the mutant with her vorpal blade raised above her head. "Whoah, Whoah, watch where you're swinging that thing!" the mutant shouted. Lilly froze again, this time for an entirely different reason. "Yo-you can talk?" she asked, puzzled. "Of course! What do you take me for? A mad blade-swinging imbecile?" "Bu-but... you're... a..." she pointed at his green, burly chest. "Hey now, just because I'm green doesn't mean I'm a savage, warmongering super-mutant out to conquer the world. That's racist you know." "Oh," she nodded understandably, then noticed a familiar crumpled piece of paper in his big green hand. "What's that paper in your hand?" --------- --------- /r/em_pathy [Part 2 Here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/Em_pathy/comments/a6f1p1/the_sanctuary_of_scholars_part_2/?)	The road stretched endlessly in front of Ellie like the broken bones of a long dead God. Jagged, uneven and most of all, forgotten. To the road's right lay the carcass of an ultra-city, its once-magnificence thoroughly wilted to hollowed out ruins. To its distant left, a violet lake churned against the shore. It must have been beautiful, once, Ellie thought. But beauty had no place in this world. Not anymore. She turned and looked behind her. Her father was halfway down the hill already, even with his limp. This had been as far as he could take her -- he had other responsibilities to see to. Now she was left with a cold metal pistol in her right hand, and a bullet of anxiety wedged into her stomach. Something hard nudged her leg. "We have to go, Ellie, or you'll be late for your first day." The rusted home-made robot rose only as far as her knee. Most of its parts had been a gift from her older sister, Juliet, on her eleventh birthday. Being a savager had its perks, and for a long time, Ellie had thought it's what she'd become, too. Chip rolled past her, its treads printing themselves onto the dusty ground. It paused, then turned its body awkwardly. "Ellie, please," it repeated. Its voice remained monotonous and empty of emotion, but the cracked screen on its face showed two round dots and a wavy, concerned mouth beneath. She took a deep breath. "I'm not sure I can do this, Chip." The curvy line on the robot's face stretched flat, then slightly upward at the corners. "Once we make it past the city, we'll almost be there. It's really not far." "No, I mean, I'm not sure I can do this every day." The robot's head tilted to its copper shoulder. "Isn't it worth it?" Ellie kicked at the dust. "How do I know? I've never been there! I can learn whatever they can teach from books that Julie finds and from-- well, from other places." She sighed. If it wasn't for her mom sending off her application--behind her back!--then she wouldn't be in this stupid position. "She did it for you, Ellie," said Chip, reading her face as if it was her mind itself. "You have potential that none of her other children have. She wants you to reach it, fully. That's all. Kalilko University will help you. It is a a new tool for you." She shrugged her backpack feeling its weight against her shoulders. Chip was right. As usual. And thinking of it as a tool suddenly didn't make it sound so bad. Didn't make him any less annoying though. She passed him by in two large strides. "Well, what are you waiting for, rustbucket?" The wavy line returned before Chip's tracks whirred into life. "Wait for me. Your father told me to stay with you." "Then you'd better hurry!" she said with half a laugh, before bursting into a sprint. --- Ellie had never been this close to the city. Hadn't been allowed. Her father's words up on the hill still echoed through her, as if she was a gong that wouldn't stop reverberating. "Bad things make their home in bad places. Stick to the road, and you won't need to use this." She had tried to steady her arms as she took the pistol from him, but they betrayed her. Her dad ruffled her hair. "You'll be fine. Make us proud." A shudder ran through her as she looked at the nearest building. A carcass, bent and burned and broken. She couldn't see anything inside the darkness of the gaping, glassless windows. But that didn't mean there wasn't anything there. "It's best not to look, Ellie." "Relax. You couldn't pay me to go in there. I'm just... curious, you know?" "I know where your curiosity always leads." She rolled her eyes. "Not always." An odour washed over the road, as if it was a wave from the lake. Chemicals that she could taste on her tongue. Remnants of bombs and bodies and the types of warfare people thought would never be used. But the air was redolent of their naivety. And of their rotting bodies. The city seemed to grow as they ventured farther along the road. The buildings, what remained of them, now towered far into the sky. Metal beams bent over, leering at the road, watching the travellers pass. For a moment, Ellie thought it was one of the buildings itself that was screaming at her. Then, as she felt the impact, she realised it had been a bullet. She crumpled onto the ground, her head facing the city. The gun lay next to her. Near to her, but out of reach of her unresponsive body. Chip was trying to say something, his mouth was pursed wide, his green visual now a bright red. But there was only silence ringing in Ellie's ears. She saw the three figures as they walked out of the cover of darkness. Out of a gaping maw in a nearby structure. They looked happy. Why were they happy? Chip was in front of her now, his tiny right arm had flipped open a feather-sized blade. A boot sent him rolling somewhere behind Ellie. A bullet followed. Ellie wanted to turn, to find him. The robot she had created. Repaired a hundred times. Had loved, in a way, she realised. But her body refused her heart's request. She barely felt the rope as it bit into her wrists and ankles.
[WP] Universities are the safest place in the post-post apocalyptic world. They protect and cultivate the bright minds that will rebuild the world. You get invited to attend, but your scholarship doesn't cover room & board. You have to commute through the dangerous wasteland to get to class on time.	Half an hour. I had half an hour to get to class. I dashed through the rooms of my home, seeking for my gas mask. Without it and my special suit, I would reach the university a melting skeleton. Fortune embraced me. Or perhaps it was the fact that my home had only two rooms, and I had little to no furniture. And so, finding both my mask and suit was as easy as finding barren lands. I dressed up, left home, and drew a deep breath. The wasteland separating home from the University breathed before me. There was no life in it, only aridity, fissures and green fumes billowing and wavering like a dense, endless fog. I walked gingerly through it, lest the sound of my feet touching the surface awakened the Underdormants.In the University they had taught us that the only weakness those creatures had, was their reach. If you managed to climb onto its back, it could never touch you. We'd had trained to fight them in simulations, but none ever killed one, we barely managed to last longer alive, hoping for a miracle. Step by step I went, heart pounding. If something happened in the beginning or the end portion of the wasteland, I could ran back to the safety of my home or university. The issue was in the middle portion, where I was standing right now. For if I awakened an Underdormant, I would have to fight it, and I only had an old, scimitar full of rust to do--. The ground trembled ferociously. I reeled, groping the air, flailing my arms aimlessly in a poor attempt to balance myself. I struck the floor, fissuring the brittle surface. A deafening racket of cracks and creaks boomed beneath me. I scrambled to my feet, and barreled toward the university; but the quivering turned overwhelming, and I lost my balance once again. There was a shattering noise, followed by a diabolical screech. And soon, a shadow loomed over me. I turned. The Underdormant was gazing at me. His entire albino, scorpion-like body was out the surface. It had sharp, curling fangs full of a vibrant green poison; eight thin, yet stone-hard legs, and a face with twenty black, unblinking eyes. It was the size of a small building, lithe as a cat, wicked as a demon, ravenous as a lion. There was a brief moment in which I thought it wouldn't eat me, but it was no more than the fantasy of a dead man. It scuttered at lightning-quick speed toward me. I unsheathed my scimitar. My hands trembled, but I braced myself. If I would die, I'd at least put up a fight. The Underdormant sprung. My eyes widened. My heart dropped to the hollow of my stomach. In its zenith, the Underdormant blocked the sun. It became a shadow, falling like a meteorite of darkness. I rolled forward desperately, barely avoiding getting crushed and stabbed by all its blade-sharp legs. I turned. It has his back turned toward me. It was my opportunity. I threw my sword and sprung, gripping myself to one of its hind legs. I clambered as the monster spun and spun, attempting to find me, but failing to do so. It thrashed, flailing the leg I was holding onto. But falling would mean death, and so I hugged that leg as if it was my deceased mother. Soon, it stopped, and shrieked. I climbed and climbed, until I managed to reach the Underdormants back. There, I buried my fingers inside the cracks of its carapace. The monster lunged again, turning midair so that it would fall on its back, making crimsn pureé out me. Desperately, I switched my grip to two cracks at the rim of its body. Holding onto them only by my fingertips, while my body dangled in the air. As we neared the ground, I lifted my legs in a quick, violent motion to the monster's carapace, pushing myself far away from it, to the empty air. The landing was terribly harsh. I heard the inner cracks of bones breaking. I was numb, dizzy and lost but still alive. But the Underdormant's shadow loomed over me again. Screeching, shrieking madly. I was a dead man--. The monster collapsed, striking the ground beside me. What had happened? There was a sea of muted voices around me. I struggled to turn, but managed to do so. The University was there, a hundred students with guns in their hands were coming toward me. They took me to the safety of the nursery. I breathed. Just like any other morning. ------------- /r/NoahElowyn	The road stretched endlessly in front of Ellie like the broken bones of a long dead God. Jagged, uneven and most of all, forgotten. To the road's right lay the carcass of an ultra-city, its once-magnificence thoroughly wilted to hollowed out ruins. To its distant left, a violet lake churned against the shore. It must have been beautiful, once, Ellie thought. But beauty had no place in this world. Not anymore. She turned and looked behind her. Her father was halfway down the hill already, even with his limp. This had been as far as he could take her -- he had other responsibilities to see to. Now she was left with a cold metal pistol in her right hand, and a bullet of anxiety wedged into her stomach. Something hard nudged her leg. "We have to go, Ellie, or you'll be late for your first day." The rusted home-made robot rose only as far as her knee. Most of its parts had been a gift from her older sister, Juliet, on her eleventh birthday. Being a savager had its perks, and for a long time, Ellie had thought it's what she'd become, too. Chip rolled past her, its treads printing themselves onto the dusty ground. It paused, then turned its body awkwardly. "Ellie, please," it repeated. Its voice remained monotonous and empty of emotion, but the cracked screen on its face showed two round dots and a wavy, concerned mouth beneath. She took a deep breath. "I'm not sure I can do this, Chip." The curvy line on the robot's face stretched flat, then slightly upward at the corners. "Once we make it past the city, we'll almost be there. It's really not far." "No, I mean, I'm not sure I can do this every day." The robot's head tilted to its copper shoulder. "Isn't it worth it?" Ellie kicked at the dust. "How do I know? I've never been there! I can learn whatever they can teach from books that Julie finds and from-- well, from other places." She sighed. If it wasn't for her mom sending off her application--behind her back!--then she wouldn't be in this stupid position. "She did it for you, Ellie," said Chip, reading her face as if it was her mind itself. "You have potential that none of her other children have. She wants you to reach it, fully. That's all. Kalilko University will help you. It is a a new tool for you." She shrugged her backpack feeling its weight against her shoulders. Chip was right. As usual. And thinking of it as a tool suddenly didn't make it sound so bad. Didn't make him any less annoying though. She passed him by in two large strides. "Well, what are you waiting for, rustbucket?" The wavy line returned before Chip's tracks whirred into life. "Wait for me. Your father told me to stay with you." "Then you'd better hurry!" she said with half a laugh, before bursting into a sprint. --- Ellie had never been this close to the city. Hadn't been allowed. Her father's words up on the hill still echoed through her, as if she was a gong that wouldn't stop reverberating. "Bad things make their home in bad places. Stick to the road, and you won't need to use this." She had tried to steady her arms as she took the pistol from him, but they betrayed her. Her dad ruffled her hair. "You'll be fine. Make us proud." A shudder ran through her as she looked at the nearest building. A carcass, bent and burned and broken. She couldn't see anything inside the darkness of the gaping, glassless windows. But that didn't mean there wasn't anything there. "It's best not to look, Ellie." "Relax. You couldn't pay me to go in there. I'm just... curious, you know?" "I know where your curiosity always leads." She rolled her eyes. "Not always." An odour washed over the road, as if it was a wave from the lake. Chemicals that she could taste on her tongue. Remnants of bombs and bodies and the types of warfare people thought would never be used. But the air was redolent of their naivety. And of their rotting bodies. The city seemed to grow as they ventured farther along the road. The buildings, what remained of them, now towered far into the sky. Metal beams bent over, leering at the road, watching the travellers pass. For a moment, Ellie thought it was one of the buildings itself that was screaming at her. Then, as she felt the impact, she realised it had been a bullet. She crumpled onto the ground, her head facing the city. The gun lay next to her. Near to her, but out of reach of her unresponsive body. Chip was trying to say something, his mouth was pursed wide, his green visual now a bright red. But there was only silence ringing in Ellie's ears. She saw the three figures as they walked out of the cover of darkness. Out of a gaping maw in a nearby structure. They looked happy. Why were they happy? Chip was in front of her now, his tiny right arm had flipped open a feather-sized blade. A boot sent him rolling somewhere behind Ellie. A bullet followed. Ellie wanted to turn, to find him. The robot she had created. Repaired a hundred times. Had loved, in a way, she realised. But her body refused her heart's request. She barely felt the rope as it bit into her wrists and ankles.
[WP] Your school opens up a time capsule stored 50 years ago. Inside, a letter had been addressed to you by name.	"And now, would the student body class president please come to the stage?", the principle announced. There were cheers and hoots as Bobby Jermaine clomped down the stairs and shook Mr. Shackleton's burly hand. His grin was ten miles high and we all knew why. He got to be the one to open the time capsule, the first time capsule. All of us were jealous. Fifty years ago the school had instituted a tradition for each senior class, a send off of sorts. The idea was each class would put ten to twenty class-defining items in the capsule and it would be sealed until, fifty years later, a new class opened it. The capsules were on display in a cabinet outside the faculty lounge. Fifty wooden boxes with bronze latches and padlocks, taunting classes for fifty years with the mysteries they held inside. Until now. For the first time in Chancellorsville High History, a class would leave behind AND open a box. Mr. Shackleton handed the key to Bobby, whose hand visibly dropped with the weight of it and began to shake. He missed the lock one the first try and popped it on the second. The principal leaned over wide-eyed and pulled his microphone back up to his mouth. "Aaaannnnddd now who's ready to hear what the class of '68 left for you!", he said, "After the rally, we will put the contents on display in the cabinet and this box," He drummed the side of it, "will be your class's time capsule!" The box contained what would be expected of sixties highschoolers: a Beatles album, a Life magazine, a few comic books, someones lunch box with Bonanza on the front, ect. The principal rattled them off excitedly giving his own opinion on each. Mr. Shackleton had been nine years old when the capsule went in and was excited to see his own class's opened in nine years. At the very end he reached in the box for more, paused, and into the microphone said, "Well, in the words of Porky Pig, T-t-that's all folks!" He grinned but his eyes darted back to the box. We all cleared out of the hall and returned to our sixth period classes. At the beginning of my seventh, the intercom buzzed on. "Would Michael York please report to the front office? Would Michael York please report to the front office?" The class ooed as I left my desk and shuffled down the hall. I ran my fingers through my hair and lengthened my stride excitedly. I didn't know what this was about but I was damn curious. "The, uh, principal wanted to see me?" I said to the secretary. "Back here Mike!" Mr. Shackleton called down the hall. I nodded to the secretary and walked down to his office. Mr. Shackleton sat across from me with a yellowed envelope in front of him. He gestured a chair and flicked the letter off of his desk holding it up for me to see. I took a seat. "Do you know what this is?", he said, "More importantly, do you see who it is to?" "'Michael Z. York, 231 W. Shaffer Blvd' That's my name and address all right. I'm not sure why you have my mail though." I said, raising an eyebrow. "It was in the capsule Mike.", he said raising one back. "It was what?", I said. "In a fifty year old time capsule. That no one has opened. Should have opened. Care to explain?" he said. "Can I read it? Have you read it?" I sputtered "Why would you need to read it? I assume you put it there. Science fiction non-sense that it is." he said, his voice growing agitated "Please", I said He flicked the letter across the desk at me and I caught it. I opened it and read: Dear Mikey, I'm sorry that I'm going to leave you and your mother. By the time you're reading this it'll be 6 hours since I vanished. Your mom is probably only now realizing it. I'm sorry you'll never see me again. I have 32 years until you're even born. I'll be 74 by then and 92 by the time it all loops back. A lot can happen in that time and I'm not even sure I can stay in the past like this. There are things following me here. Things that don't want me here. Things that don't understand I have no way to leave here. Oh God, it's so messed up Mikey. My little boy. I'm not sure what your mother has told you about me. About what happened to me. I'm sure its not the truth though because she doesn't know the truth. The truth is I went out one morning for a jog in the woods, took a route off the beaten path to try some free form running, and when I came back out it was 1968. I managed to bribe some kid into sneaking this into the time capsule before they seal it. Take care of your mother. For me. I love you both more than anything in this world. I know your probably believe this letter is bullshit but even if you do, always remember I love you. I'm using the name Reggie Baker now, if I'm still alive please find me. Even if I'm demented I'll know my own son. Your Ba-Ba-Dad I pocketed the letter and ran from the room. Mr Shackleton called after me but I didn't listen. Instead I called my dad and got no response. I called my mom and she asked if I had been able to reach my father at all. She hadn't heard from him all day. He had even missed their lunch date. I googled Reggie Baker and my hometown, finding a hit for the local psych ward. &#x200B;	Dear Lucile Poppelreiter, Yes. This is from the future of a guy you didn’t even know. It’s not from your grandpa who thought he could magically predict the name of his future grandchildren or anything plausible like that. No, this is totally different. By the time you finishing reading this letter you will have 5 minutes to execute plan alpha. Execute the plan by going down stairs and pulling the fire alarm next to room 201. If you do not do this within five minutes of reading this letter then everything will go wrong. You will then have 3 minutes to run to the other side of the school and go into the bathroom by room 844 and into the third stall from the door. There will be a key on the floor. Use the key to open the janitors closet by room 1244 this time. One minute will be left to open the closet and find the marked brick on the wall to the left. Trust me, you’ll know which one it is. Tap it 7 times with no breaks and then wait. You must do it quickly, but not too quick. Timing is everything on this. Please focus and accept this mission. When we have arrived then you will know your next mission, should you choose to accept it. Now, go! Help us, please. You have no idea how important this is. The quicker it gets done the better.
[WP] Zombies exist but it’s not an apocalypse. Just another day to day inconvenience like rain or your car breaking down.	“Come on!” Alliane pulled on Jonah’s arm. “You can’t see anything from there, get closer!” She stood on one of the city’s outer walls trying to get her boyfriend to look at the river of zombies shambling below. Jonah crinkled his nose and shook his head. “I can’t get any closer to that stench, how can you stand it?” Alliane turned over the railing and stared down at the walking corpses. They shuffled through an empty concrete moat built around the city moaning the whole way. She made a show of inhaling a deep breath through her nostrils. Alliane exhaled then turned back to Jonah with a disgusted face. “Blech,” she giggled. “Never smelled that before.” She left the railing and led Jonah towards the elevator. “We’re on an adventure and you need to be more adventurous.” “I’m adventurous, I just don’t like stinky smells,” he grumbled as they stepped into the elevator. Alliane realized he may have taken it more seriously than she intended. She kissed his cheek as an apology then changed the subject. “We’ll get the picture then move on. What’s next on the list?” “Uh..,” Jonah pulled his cell phone out and swiped through the screens until he pulled up a picture of a list. “A ladder.” “A ladder? That’s kind of boring,” Alliane said. “I don’t think those girls gave us all the rules.” “Maybe they didn’t understand it either,” Jonah handed his phone to Alliane. “It says #07 La Escalera,” he shrugged. “I don’t know why it’s in Spanish, but that’s a ladder. I don’t know what the number is, maybe we have to find one with the number seven on it?” The elevator glided to halt then dinged. The doors opened and Alliane stepped out first. She headed straight for the viewing window. “That’s super easy, we can grab a ladder from here and draw a seven on it,” she looked back to wink an emerald eye at him. “Two birds, one stone.” They reached a wide glass wall that separated the zombies from the tourists. The glass turned into concrete at about eight feet. The horde of corpses blocked out most of the sunlight leaving a dim interior. On one side, people stood in front of the glass wall and posed with frightened faces for the camera. On the other side, the legion ignored the unending flashes and continued to flow forward. “Here,” Jonah handed his phone to Alliane then he stood in front of the clear wall. Alliane snapped a quick picture and then they swapped places. After Jonah took Alliane’s picture he joined her by the wall and watched the zombies. “Do you think they’re blind?” Jonah asked as he wrapped his arm around Alliane. “Probably. They are dead,” she replied. “No, that’s not it,” a woman’s voice said from beside them. The couple turned to see a young woman wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a green vest that identified her as a docent. “Hi,” she smiled at them and pressed a hand to her chest. “I’m Mundo.” Jonah waved with his free hand and Alliane smiled. “I’m Jonah and this is Alliane.” Mundo nodded at the parade of corpses behind them. “Their eyes work fine, but the glass is treated. It’s kind of like a two-way mirror, but they only see black.” “Oh I see. Thank you for the information,” Jonah said. “No problem,” Mundo said. “Anything else I can help you with?” They both shook their heads. “Not unless you can help us find a ladder around here,” Alliane giggled then turned her attention back to the zombies. She knew they’d be leaving soon and she wanted to enjoy every moment. “Ignore her, we’re fine. Thank you again,” Mundo gave him a curious look. “An Escalera?” she asked. Immediately both heads whipped around to face her. “Why did you say it in Spanish?” Jonah asked. “What’s Spanish?” Mundo asked. Alliane’s hand flew fast and sharp to smack Jonah on the back of his head. “It’s nothing, just an inside joke between us,” Alliane said quickly. “RIGHT, honey?” “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I’m so used to talking to her things slip out sometimes.” Mundo stared at them with piercing eyes, but the corners of her lips tugged upward. A smile slowly spread across her face. “Oh my god,” she said. Her eyes widened and seemed to sparkle more, even in the dim light. She began bouncing in place with excitement. “You don’t know what you are, do you???!” Her restraint withered with every second as she became more energetic. Jonah saw severe worry flash over Alliane’s face. ‘I know that we’re leaving,” he said. “But thank you again.” “You guys are from a different universe!” Mundo blurted out. “Two actually, one each,” she corrected herself in a quieter tone. They stopped walking. “What makes you say that?” Jonah asked. He guided Alliane away from Mundo and tried to put himself between them. “I NEVER get to explain it to anyone, this is awesome! FOLLOW ME!” She grabbed the closest hand, Jonah’s, and led them to the cafeteria in a hurry. She sat them at a small booth. “Wait here, I’ll get us some drinks. I’ve got a lot to tell you about yourselves,” she turned and took two steps away. Then she stopped and turned around. “OH, please don’t leave. You’re not in any danger, I promise.” Jonah and Alliane nodded, then Mundo turned away again. After two more steps, she stopped and turned around again. “BUT, if you do leave do yourselves a favor. Look for a Mundo on the next Earth you visit. We can explain things to you.” She turned and walked to the counter. “Up to you, hon,” Jonah said. They both watched Mundo get in a short line with three bottled waters. Alliane shrugged. “She called the ladder an escalera, that can’t be a coincidence. Plus, she somehow knew we weren’t from here. Let’s listen. Maybe she can help us with other items on the scavenger hunt too, not just the ladder.” \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day in 2018, this is #350. You can find them collected on my [blog](https://hugoverse.info/). If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](https://hugoverse.info/2017/11/25/hugoverse-guidebook/) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](https://hugoverse.info/2017/10/23/hugoverse-timeline/) to find the stories in order.	I watched a lot of movies about the end of the world in various forms; zombie movies were one of my favourites. It happened, it finally happened and as predicated the virus spread and part of the population turned into mindless zombies ... the only problem being that they ended up being a massive disappointment. The zombies were not like in the movies, they did not use their arms at all, dropped by their sides and just walked around trying to eat you. All anyone had to do, was to put your hand on their forehead (stretched out) and they would never be able to get close to you ... it felt silly at first, but you get used to it. &#x200B; Sometimes it would take days or even weeks for my (zombie) ex-girlfriend would turn up to my front door, still thinking that she lived here. I was not the only one to have this fate, others had zombie boyfriends and girlfriends (exes and "current partners") turn up at their place; it turns out that they mindlessly walk around but gravitate towards something familiar. At first we laughed at how silly it was, she would wait at the front door to be let in ... clearly the most ineffective zombies in the world, the only way that you would get bitten is if you physically put your finger in her mouth ... and who would be stupid enough to do that! &#x200B; You would think we would be able to dispose of them, who would not jump at the chance to get rid of their exes as they are not human anymore. The government passed a law and they are to continue to "live" as they were not causing any issues for people. So, yep the zombie apocalypse turned out to just be a massive inconvenience.
[WP] Everyone is born with an accompanying spirit. Each have unique powers that grow in strength. Some grow in the presence of plants, fire or water etc, but yours has always been weak (this earns you disdain from your peers). One day you're attending a funeral when you notice it has grown slightly.	He was never close to his grandma and going to her funeral was more out of respect for his mom than any real grief. Greg never attended one of these services before, but he was familiar with the tradition. Once a person dies, their spirit wasn’t long for this world. It was the duty of the loved one’s left behind to dismiss the spirit. Free it’s essence from its human bonds so that it may find its own peace. And grandma’s wasn’t an exception to that rule. Mom stood from her seat, taking a second to compose herself before approaching the altar. Her own spirit curled around her neck, it’s wind tugging gently at her curls in an act of reassurance. Both human and spirit were necessary. Greg watched their slow march up the stairs, lifting a hand to the tiny, green puff at his own shoulder. It didn’t stop his morbid thoughts of the future, when he would need to face his mom the same way she faced hers. His little speck of a spirit, he loved it so much, but would they be up to a task like this? Greg shook his head, clearing his mind and focusing on the ceremony. It wasn’t the time for self-pity. Her body was laid out on the altar, wearing her best Sunday outfit, hair painstakingly stylized around a painted face. She looked peaceful, with her wrinkles smoothed out and the slight upward turn of her lips. Almost as if she was asleep. With four legs folded beneath it, laying right over her once-beating heart, was her companion of almost nine decades. A simple water spirit, it’s body frozen solid in its time of mourning. Mom stood over the body, extending out a hand to allow her wind spirit to flutter down her finger tips. That was when Greg felt the subtle weight on his shoulder grow heavier. Greg blinked, turning to his little spirit as it leaned over from its perch. It’s white, beady eyes stared straight at the altar. Then he felt its rising excitement. The connection they shared reverberating with an unfamiliar power that soon became overpowering. It beckoned for Greg, urged him to rise from his seat. Gasps followed him as he did as asked, ignoring the rumbling of the crowded church as he joined his mom on the altar. Gently, Greg pushed his mom to the side, ignoring her surprised cries as he stared not at the corpse of his once grandma, but at the spirit that lay in mourning. It was the first time the water spirit moved, turning its faceless head towards Greg in a crackling of ice. He felt his spirit's request, the first the little thing ever made in their entire life together. Taking a step back, Greg lifted his hand, mirroring his mom’s earlier posed as the puff rolled off his shoulder and down his arm. It rested in the palm of his hand, feeling a hundred pounds too heavy compared to its normally feather-like existence. It’s’ excitement grew, reaching out with thousands of thread like limbs. It reached for the water spirit’s head, gluing to its frozen skin. Then it pulsated, the body shaking as it began to grow from Gregg’s palm. He wanted to drop it at first, the sensation too much. Like it was trying to consume his soul. But he remained frozen in place, forced to watch as the water spirit began to melt. Water droplets beaded on its skin, sliding not with gravity, but towards his now massive puffball. The water slid up the threads, like beads on necklace, before disappearing in its body. An eternity passed, watching his grandma‘s spirit melt, mesmerized as the power he never thought he could experience grew. He didn’t even know why no one thought to intervene, though Greg was grateful. He didn’t want it to stop. This power, it was too much to deny. It filled a hole he had spent his entire life ignoring. All those years being mocked, but look at them now. He and his spirit, finally finding their true purpose. By the time his spirit finished, there wasn’t even a drop of water left. The green spirit shivered before slumping over, landing with a loud thump on the ground. Then it rose up on unsteady legs, it’s form fluctuating between the puffball it was and the water spirit it consumed. Greg stepped up to it, resting a hand on a close approximation of its forehead and feeling the spirits excitement grow. It took in nine decades of experience and made it its own. Greg could feel it. The memories and the power it brought. Spirits prosper in the presence of their nature. Water for grandma or a windy day for mom. That day Greg discovered the truth of his spirit. It hummed against his hand, already asking him for another opportunity. For the next spirit on the cusp of death. The consequences of what they had done loomed over them, their audience ready to pounce for his act of desecration. But Greg didn’t care. His spirit had found its purpose, and now that he had a taste, there was no stopping him.	My friend had just died, his spirit was one of the strongest I’d known. Everyone thought he would be a great leader one day whether it be business or politics. But here he was in his grave his spirit diminishing. But I felt good, in fact I felt great! My friend was dead and I felt great, was I a terrible person? I realized my spirit had grown, the one piece of me that was never there can to me in a time of death and sorrow. I looked in and deep and I saw the mark that lie within. I was no longer someone who could be with others in their time of need, because I was their end. I was the cause of my friends death, at his bedside my spirit drained him. While now it drains the sorrow of everyone here. My name is no longer Fred, but it accompanies meaning and truth. My name is now and forever will be grim. I will be there in the end times, I see it now. As I am passed through age to age, as I have always been. No one will ever know, because ignorance is bliss and this world tries to live in bliss dodging truth after truth. I walk a lone road now, people still never see my aura as it truly is. They see it as it was before that fateful week, the funeral, the death. I drain them, their last clinging bits of life whether they could fight through it or not I am the vulture and they are my prey. This world is the desert in which I roam desolate, but filled with hope. Forever shall I walk my lonely road, for I am the only one who can walk it.
[WP] Everyone is born with an accompanying spirit. Each have unique powers that grow in strength. Some grow in the presence of plants, fire or water etc, but yours has always been weak (this earns you disdain from your peers). One day you're attending a funeral when you notice it has grown slightly.	Funerals were a very strange procession. They were a look back on a human and their spirit. A time to really reflect on how we are all just as mortal as each other and no single one of us would outlast time. We were all waiting to go. To some, this made people somber. Others hopeful. And one, larger. "Ritus, what happened?" I whispered to him as he continued to slowly increase in size. "I... I'm not--," he took a moment to take in a full breath, like he'd never breathed before in his life. His figure had lost its pale look and almost began glowing. I stepped out of the room before the people behind me got upset that he was blocking their view. "No!!" he yelled, tugging at my essence to return inside the room. "What is it Ritus? Why are you growing? Is it death?" I asked, a little worried. "No, it's mourning. Not just normal sadness or depression, but the mourning of what's lost and could never return. Please master, you must return me inside, I've never felt so good before in my existence," he said, tugging harder at me. "Hold on, I just want to understand what's ha--" "What's there to understand?" he yelled, his eyes bulging out of his nebulous figure. "I need to be in that room.. I need to feel that power! It's draining from me every second we waste out here! Haven't you always wanted a strong spirit?" He was panicking, and I could feel that he was telling the truth. This surge in mood and power wouldn't last long. "Ritus, calm down. It sounds like you're already addicted to your growth energy, and it's not like we can come about it at a moment's notice!" I hissed, trying to keep our commotion quiet. He growled and went from tugging to dragging me back inside the room at full force. I yelped, as Ritus had never contained enough energy to move laundry in my room, but he was carrying me with no problem. He plopped me back in my chair to a few stern glances from the upset audience. Ritus began flexing and humming as his strength began waxing again. "Young man, can you please calm your spirit down?" the man at the podium asked nicely. I was so embarrassed, but Ritus didn't even seem to have noticed. He was three times his size now and growing. Flames began appearing at the tips of his fingers. He grinned a mischievous grin. "Young man!" the man at the podium repeated, a little more worried as Ritus began filling the room. I realized that this display might be causing those in pain to have more feeling of mourning. "Not to worry, we were just leaving. Sorry for causing a commotion," I said pathetically, standing up to leave. Ritus refused to let me go. "So this is the power you've been holding out on me, my master?" he asked coyly, looking at the full flames in his hands. "Ritus, we've done enough, let's go!" I announced, attempting to take another step. He wouldn't allow it. "Young man, get your spirit under control, this is--" the old man's spirit darted in front of him, and he gasped as he was shielded from a flame from Ritus. "What is wrong with you?" the old man's older spirit cried incredulously. "I don't like the old man speaking over me," Ritus claimed, looking at the other people and spirits in the room, tempting them to challenge him. "Ritus, we're leaving," I said again. I still couldn't move. I thought quickly. I had an idea, but it probably wouldn't end well either way. "Ritus, you're planning on hurting these people with your newfound power!?" I exclaimed in mock fear. It wasn't hard to pretend as I was a little scared of this new version of my spirit. The room's mood turned from a sour form of sadness to immediate panic and fear. Ritus shrunk down a noticeable degree. "What? No, I--" "You told me you were going to hurt these people outside! You said that only their spirits could stop you!" I yelled more emphatically. He shrunk to about half his size. "No!" he panicked. "Please, master, I know what you're trying to do and I'm sorry! Please just stop while I still have this much--" "Enough power to hurt these people? Is that what you want to be left with?" I cried. Tears stung at my eyes. I didn't realize it, but this was the first time I had to chastise my spirit. I didn't realize it would be this difficult. A few people in the audience screamed, spirits included. People started running from the room. In the pandemonium, he had become magnitudes smaller, back to his normal self. No one was sad anymore, sole for one thing: Ritus. He looked at me with big eyes. They hurt to look at. It was a pain that wouldn't help his power, for it was not the pain of sadness nor mourning the loss of his power, it was a feeling of betrayal from his master, whom he served loyally for years. And in his first chance to be able to do more for his master, he was brought back down to his lowly, pathetic form. But he also felt my betrayal. The loss of trust in my spirit, who went mad with power the moment he was able to gain some. "How could you do this to me?" we asked each other. ________________________________________ For more stories, come check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer!	My friend had just died, his spirit was one of the strongest I’d known. Everyone thought he would be a great leader one day whether it be business or politics. But here he was in his grave his spirit diminishing. But I felt good, in fact I felt great! My friend was dead and I felt great, was I a terrible person? I realized my spirit had grown, the one piece of me that was never there can to me in a time of death and sorrow. I looked in and deep and I saw the mark that lie within. I was no longer someone who could be with others in their time of need, because I was their end. I was the cause of my friends death, at his bedside my spirit drained him. While now it drains the sorrow of everyone here. My name is no longer Fred, but it accompanies meaning and truth. My name is now and forever will be grim. I will be there in the end times, I see it now. As I am passed through age to age, as I have always been. No one will ever know, because ignorance is bliss and this world tries to live in bliss dodging truth after truth. I walk a lone road now, people still never see my aura as it truly is. They see it as it was before that fateful week, the funeral, the death. I drain them, their last clinging bits of life whether they could fight through it or not I am the vulture and they are my prey. This world is the desert in which I roam desolate, but filled with hope. Forever shall I walk my lonely road, for I am the only one who can walk it.
[WP] Years have passed since you were killed on death row, and currently you're settled in heaven. Soon, a familiar face walk towards the gates. Its your executioner.	I sat on the curb and watched placidly as Peter greeted the man had pushed the lethal concoction through my veins. He was older now, naturally; the last I had seen him, his hair hadn't been so grey and his face hadn't all those lines. Of course, he would be able to change that anytime he wished; typically everybody in Heaven chose their mid-twenties to early-thirties face, unsurprisingly. I didn't have to change mine, though. "Hello, Mr. MacDonald," I said cheerfully as he stepped inside the Gates, looking around in wonder. "Or may I call you John?" "What? Oh, John is fine," he said in dazed voice, shaking his head. "Sorry, still feeling overwhelmed right now. Anyway, have we met before? You seem familiar..." "My name is Crowl. Atticus Crowl." For several seconds, he just stared at me. I could almost see his neurons firing across dusty, long-forgotten synapses as old memories began to resurface. "You...you were at the State Penitentiary..." "On death row, yes." I scratched my arm, right where the the needle had been inserted. I had chosen to keep the scar visible. His eyes flickered down, widened, and then jumped back up to my face. "I...injected you." I nodded. "Judging from how you look now, many years must have passed since then, huh? I'm surprised you still remember me." He fumbled his shirt and looked down. Was he nervous? Embarrassed? "How could I forget you? After what I did?" "Well, it was your job. I'm sure there were many others after me that--" He shook his head violently. "I quit after your...death. I couldn't handle it anymore." John looked at me again with eyes suddenly brimming with tears. "The real truth came out a few years later. You were - are \- innocent." "Yes, I knew that," I said simply. "But you didn't." "Even still..." he wrung his hands helplessly. "I can't...I shouldn't have..." I reached forward and pulled him into an embrace. He began to sob. "Forgive yourself," I urged quietly. "I feel no hatred toward you. And neither should you - after all, you're here, aren't you?" Many more seconds before he stepped back. His eyes were red, but he had put on a weak smile. "That's better," I said, grinning in return. "Now, let me show you around. We may have gotten off to a rough start,in a manner of speaking, but we have all eternity to become friends." &#x200B; &#x200B; &#x200B; Liked that story? Want more like it? Check out r/Idreamofdragons!	I was sat on a bench when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned to look. I couldn't deny that a part of my chest heaved with great pain when I set eyes upon my killer. He was wearing a black shirt, a black tie, black trousers, staring at me with a eerie astonishment that sunk through my skin. "You're in Heaven?" He sneered at me with those same unreadable eyes. I could never understand him. The thoughts he had inside his skull. "I never once lied about my innocence," I said, though my cheeks were burning, an emotion I couldn't quite grasp. This man murdered me. And yet here he stood with me in Heaven. "Yes, it seems I simply fulfilled my duty as was my service. To follow orders, to never question innocence or guilt," he smiled and took a seat beside me. The garden was my favourite place to sit. The wilderness hiding in the shrubbery and the treetops would swoop through and I'd see glances of animals who had been made extinct by my own human race. Majestic beings. I had always wanted to see the world before destruction. And here I could. Plants and colours and creatures my wildest dreams could never imitate. And now I sat with him. "You know, I don't remember your name," he said. I had hoped ignoring him would make him go away. I stood up and cleared my throat, back turned to him. "It's not Roger, is it?" He asked. I tried to walk away but he touched my shoulder, a firm grip. "Look, I'm sorry that I killed you," he said. Words I never thought I would ever need to hear. Did I want to know the man who sent me here was sorry? The man who uprooted me from my family? I couldn't blame him, I knew I couldn't. But the pain was too much. It was too much to be away from them, waiting. Unable to see any of them grow. And he took that from me. I thought I would never see any of them again. "Leave me be," I spluttered the words out. "I don't have much time here," he said, "But I asked for the chance to find you." I couldn't make any sense of him. What did he want from me? I was already dead. "I won't ask again," I took a step. "The truth is, I... committed suicide." My throat was tight. I didn't want to care. Why would I want to know? Why did he want to find me to tell me this? "I'm going to Hell," he continued to speak. I couldn't face him. "They found out you were innocent years after. Years. And I never stopped hearing your wife's shriek when your death was announced." Maybe that was the strange noise I heard before I found myself staring at a replicate of my childhood home as myself. And I always knew justice would eventually come to light. "I used to enjoy it. Hearing your wife scream," he said. I couldn't make any sense of anything. "But then, then I started hearing it all the time. Every time I heard silence, that scream would seep through. And then I would see your dead body floating above my head at night. And the news came out. And I... I couldn't take it. And as much as I enjoyed it at first, I... I couldn't take it," he repeated himself. "So I took my life." I turned to face the smiling man with tears running down his face. "And I'm sorry. And I will suffer," he said. "So you can be rest assured that I will suffer forever for what I did to you, the life I chose." My heart ached. I couldn't face a crying man without losing a few precious tears of my own. Sure. It was done. I was dead. My family far from my grasp. But I would see them again. I would see them and I would hold them in my arms. I didn't know his story, his life. Not a thing. All I know was that he killed me. And yet here he was, crying before me. "I don't ask for forgiveness or acceptance or anything. I just wanted... wanted you to know that I am sorry that I took your life. And I hope that you wait many more years before you see your family so that they live for long, a long life. They work hard to find justice for people like you." He began to fade away. I tried to reach out to him and say the words closed up inside of me. But he was gone by the time I found the strength to say the words. And so, I was alone again. r/astoriawriter
[WP] You receive an extraordinary gift: the power to bring your art to life.	It's the greatest gift I have ever received. That single wish I always wished I had. Bring art to life. It's perfect. If I want anything I draw it. Dresses, check. Nice scarf, check. New glass to replace the one I broke, check. All at my fingertips. All on beck and call. I want for very little and since art has always been my life it's no different. Even if money is tight all I need is food and rent. Heat I draw a fire. I have drawn all I could want that I've not inherited from family. Yet there's one fatal drawback. No power can create something from nothing. Whatever I wish to create must be supplied. I cannot defy physics no matter how hard I try. And given the... dubious source of my gift the tithe is blood. It was hard to begin with. Dozens of trips to hospital. Four emergency blood transfusions and it took nearly seventeen months of therapy to escape the looming threat of institutionalization for suicidal tendencies. Now I know my limits. A little bit creation here and a little there. Just enough to keep me from dangerous levels. Bigger projects require me to stop a lot till I'm full before I cut down as low as I can safely manage. It works even if it's not perfect. And yet... It's not enough. Creating true art will kill me. A new dress can leave me all feeling faint for weeks. Making furniture will leave me bedridden. And my patron won't let me stock and store for later. Sacrifices must be fresh. Sacrifices must be made explicitly for the purpose at the time. But another's life is too high a price to pay for global recognition of my power isn't it?	“No no no no.” Not good enough. James looks at those haunted eyes. Filled with tears. He hesitates. But it’s still not good enough. Smoke fills the air. His ears are still ringing as he gets the mop to clean up. He makes himself a cup of coffee. And the eyes come back to him. He blinks a few times and forces the image out of his mind. He looks at a photograph on the desk drawer. “I’m so close sweetie. Next time it will be perfect. I just know it.” He paints furiously. He is in a haze and isn’t really sure of anything. He doesn’t know when his last meal was. He doesn’t remember when he last slept. His throat is parched. There is a glass of water on the table beside him. And pills. Lot of pills. But he needs to be awake. He needs to paint. He’s so close. He can almost feel the warmth of her body. Her scent is so close. “No.” The shot rings out again. Another body added to the pile. He doesn’t bother with the clean up anymore. Just gets the next canvas out. “It will be better this time. I’m sure this one will be perfect.” His heart is racing. His body is shutting down. But he is close. He downs another couple of pills and starts again. Darkness has started creeping in at the edge of his vision. His sight is blurry. His hands are trembling. He clutches his left side again. He is sweating. The ac is on at full blast. Why is he sweating? But through it all his hands never stop. The brush strokes continue. Till he falls down. And there she is. Standing over him. He blinks a few times hoping to clear his vision. So he can look at her. He can make out her yellow dress. He dress she was wearing that day. That damned day. “Karen!” “It is ok James. We’re almost there.” “Did I succeed?” “I don’t know. Did you?” “None of them were real enough. None of them were perfect. You were perfect.” She laughs. He has missed that sound. “I wasn’t perfect James. No one is. But it’s time for you to sleep now.” “But you aren’t like the others. You sound like her. You are perfect.” She smiles an enigmatic smile and runs her hand over his face, closing his eyes. The last traces of life leave his body. But he does with a smile on his face. A stack of bodies lie to the side. All of them resembling a woman long dead. An empty canvas page falls to the ground.
[WP] You are an immortal who's tired of seeing stories about how immortality is a curse and people eventually get tired of living. You've been enjoying life for centuries now, and you want to set the record straight.	Her hair, sleek and black, cut short to keep herself up to date with the fashions, sways gently in the morning breeze. She stands on the edge of the building watching the activity of the people around her. The Channel 5 news traffic copter circles the building and the flashing red white and blue lights below in the street reflect off of every surface. The officers behind her have been at it for a good few minutes at this point, begging her to step down, repeating how much there is to live for. She knows that more than anyone. That's the whole point. She smiles to herself and waves to everyone gently. Just a few more minutes and there should be channel 10 and 11 there as well. They would die if they missed THIS story. She feels he phone vibrate in her pocket. A lightly tanned hand pulls out the phone. Top of the line, next year's model of course, whatever she wants she gets. When you have the face of a goddess people beg to please you. She checks the message sent to her, from another unknown number. "Do not do this, you have no idea what you are doing.". Another admirer, she thinks. She puts the phone down on the edge of the building. Wouldn't want it getting damaged after all. It vibrates again but she ignores it. Her elegant, beautiful features bask in the rays of sunshine as day breaks over the city. Her fashion conscious clothes whip around lightly on the breeze, each piece designed just for her by the best hands in the world. In the distance more helicopters can be seen flying towards her. She smiles again, loving the attention. Her deep honey colored eyes flash brilliantly in the sun, this is the day, today she reveals the truth. Her phone buzzes again, falling off the edge of the building onto the roof. The clattering distracts her for a moment, and she glances down at the messages wondering if it's more worshippers. She sees clearly it is not. Her stomach tightens and she becomes very aware of the noose that she placed around her own neck to make the display of her immortality that much more impressive. The steel of the cable feels much colder than it did moments ago and so does she. "Hathor, step down and surrender yourself or I will be forced to name you." the text message reads. No one knows her True Name, she is sure of it. But she was also sure that no one knew she was a goddess either. She shakes visibly now, fearing what this all means. For a dozen millennia she has walked the land, secure in her own power. For four centuries she was convinced that she was the last immortal. Gods and goddesses to many, due to their immortality and their powers. To each other, however, they were often naught but enemies. She reaches up, her hands feeling the cold metal of the steel cable. "I need to get out of here. I need to leave now!" She panics and begins removing the cord from her neck as one of the officers inches towards her slowly. "It's okay miss, we're here to help you. Please just take off the noose and step down from the ledge." The young man pleads. His face is kind and filled with concern. "Call me Luke." She smiles and loosens the cord, slipping it over her head, and stepping down gently. Luke's hand takes hers, and helps her down. "It's okay. Don't worry I have you. I will protect you.". He wraps her in a jacket and moves towards the group of other officers. Their cheers and the sounds of the helicopters fade away from the world as she walks down the stairs with him. "Thank you so much Luke, I don't know what I was doing up there." Her voice is intoxicating to men and women alike, her goddess ability has served her well over the years. "Please, I'll be okay from now on,I promise. Can't you let me go and we'll forget this ever happened?" The honeyed words make love to his ears. "Hold your tongue, woman." Like stares deeply through her and he suddenly feels infinitely more powerful than he ever had before. His voice betrays an ever so slight Irish accent, the young and handsome man's eyes burn with fury. "Do you have any idea what you've nearly done? The mortals can never know about us, it would destroy everything they know. Have you forgotten the Dark Ages? Where reason died, our kind waged war against one another, and they suffered needlessly for our stupid bullshit!" Hathor stared in stunned silence at the man. He seems familiar yet strange. "I'm one of the last remaining of the Tuatha Dé Danann, Lugh. Or as I'm known on the Force, Luke Conmac." He bows with a flourish. "The Tua-" she begins. "Don't bother, lady. We're the gods of the Emerald Isle. There's only two of us left and you'll not be exposing us. Especially not to the mortals. We've done enough damage to them already." He huffs and shakes his head. "Most of us immortals have gone into hiding for good reasons. There are still gods of war out there who want our heads. And you damn near exposed the lot of us. Did you not realize how many of us were still around?" "I thought I was the only one. But how did you?" She is aghast. "Ahura Mazda has the gift of perfect knowledge. Though it's sometimes a curse because he can't NOT know something. I keep him supplied with confiscated depressants to shut his mind down and he'll tell me damn near anything I want to know. He's who told me how to find you AND how to get your attention. Relax, lass, I don't know your True Name." "You son of a-" she begins, but his harsh look tells her in no uncertain terms that it would be a bad idea. "So what now?" "Now I get your stupid ass of the streets before Nergal or someone even stronger tracks us down." He begins down the stairs. "You'd do well to follow me. I'm one of the few left who don't want the wars to start back up." (Continued through edits)	Hopefully, it's not too bad, Amara would let out a disgruntled sigh, throwing the book across the room and immediately sulking in her chair. “What's wrong with these people Mr Tiddlewinks?” A young black kitten would raise its head from a bookshelf and look towards his master. “All these folks who literally begged to be immortal like they didn’t actually realize what it entailed. What did they think the word immortal meant a few weeks?” Amara would pace furiously around the room. “Immortal means forever, does no one ever appreciate that?” She’d sigh as she walks out to the balcony, her loyal fourlegged companion close behind her. “I’ve seen civilisations rise and fall, mankind tearing itself apart and yet somehow efficiently rebuilding from the ashes and learning from their mistakes. Seeing this planet on the end of taking its revenge for all of the damage done to it and then watching as almost instantaneously thousands of years worth of damage to the planet was reversed! Mr Tiddlewinks you wouldn’t even be able to begin to understand, and it just irritates me.” She’d practically be yelling at this point. “All of these fools, going on about how lonely they were, how this wonderful gift that they had was just a curse. They’re all just a bunch of ingrates I tell you!” Mr Tiddlewinks would meow as if he was agreeing with her. “Alright, whats aggravated you this time?” A woman’s disembodied voice would be heard “What is wrong with all of these,” She’d stop to cringe. “Mortals” “Dammit, Amara I told you to stop reading books like that, you know not everyone has the same outlook and appreciation on things as you do. Why do you think I chose you for something like this?” “ Well, gee I don’t know, Hera. Boredom? You and your hubby’s own amusement?” Amara would turn around to face the goddess, appearing on her balcony like the everyday human of 3019. “ I cannot find one instance of any human actually appreciating the fact that they were amazed at the things that they saw, most of them just drone on like miserable ants.” Hera would raise an eyebrow at this, she’d then ponder for a moment and would let out a sigh. “And what, are you telling me you’d like to have your story so far told?” “Is that an offer?” Amara’s frustrated expression would turn into a grin. “Alright, fine. I’ll send Hermes your way, see if we can get you a bestseller going yeah?” “Sounds like a plan, and don’t you worry your little heads up there, I’ll make a point to be vague enough so that no one gets too suspicious.” Amara would chuckle as she picked up Mr Tiddlewinks and made her way back into her living room Hera would roll her eyes. “Yes yes, of course… It still amazes me how you’ve been around for nearly ever and you’re not bored yet. I might want to get my hands on a copy of this book myself.” She’d laugh as she’d disappear into the night just as quietly as she’d appeared before. &#x200B;
[WP] "uh your majesty, the monsters have apparently started a kingdom, and there is an ambassador in the courtyard"	In a small kingdom with an ironic name like Solaria, a Siren is considered to be the worst kind of beast- one that could converse. One that could seduce. Just one glance at Freesia Seabass would communicate just what this supposed "monster nation" aimed for. A moon-shaped visage. Wide, piercing eyes of sea green flecked with gold. A high collar to hide her gills. I had only met three sirens in my life, and fooling them had nearly cost me a hand. Though, to be fair, they were starved, and they thought my brother looked... delicious. "Greetings, King Abelworth," she rose and curtseyed. She winced, likely from the corsette that bound her waist a bit too snugly. "I am the... Lady Freesia Sea... bass," the siren introduced herself, pausing as she tried to recall her customary greetings. This was her first time. You can tell from the way her hair tentacle fidgeted, and the way her eyes flicked from one guard to the next. I delivered a heavy sigh, before adopting the same, forced speech pattern as her. As is customary. "Greetings, Lady Seabass. You may rise and take your seat," I gestured to the couch towards the fire. She glanced at the fireplace, a bit nervous. I gestured to the couch further away, offering her an out. With a hand, I gestured to the guard. Half the men moved to the leave. In the lighting, it looked as though the very walls were shuffling out the door, their armor scraping against each other as they made their way out. I could not blame their caution. In fact, had this siren approached me on the cobbled streets of Holdberg, perhaps I would have been in danger. But I suppose my readings and attention to detail had their... benefits. My knowledge of monster anatomy, for example, informed me that this was indeed an honest and true attempt to establish some semblance of dialogue between my nation and hers. You see, a Siren requires a few things to ensure that she can ensnare her prey. First of all, she needed a large body of water. Nothing was certain to kill her prey than drowning it. This was why Sirens were exclusively coastal- Mermaids, their deep-sea cousins, had teeth modeled after a beak. Sirens had sharp incisors, but their bodies had evolved more flat, human-like teeth. There was a collection of jaws that showcased the evolution of Siren teeth in the National Monster Museum that I had visited almost daily. On top of this, if she were to dive now, her gills would be choked by that high collar. The second tool they evolved to hunt humans was their infamous singing. I had listened once or twice to actual Siren songs. They had an unearthly quality to them, a bit like a haunting moan, but they all required a large lung capacity. And one simply does not breathe with a corset on. And finally, her nails. First, they were painted and therefore easily seen. Second, they had been filed down to more dainty, human-like nubs. I took the seat across from her, and drank in the sight of it all. she even sat with her legs angled to the side, a sign of propriety amongst young noble ladies. Her skirt had been shaped wide, likely to hide her tail. And from my experience, Sirens were quite fond of their tails. Their fins had pearly sheens, and the richer the shine, the more they appealed to potential mates. To put it succinctly, this Siren displayed a clear and overt attempt to appeal to every human sensibility she could, even at the cost of her own comfort. This, sadly, spoke just as much about our customs as it spoke about her. "So, Lady... Seabass, is that really your name? I recall that Sirens have far more, what's the word, complex last names. Often in the form of song?" I asked as the guards sent in a fretful maid. She shakily poured the both of us some wine. The Siren blinked, her eyes growing even wider in surprise. In my studies, I found that Sirens had larger eyes to draw in more light. It was a hold over from their mermaid predecessors, but their irises lightened in shade to ease the constant barrage of light that afflicted them on the surface. She clearly did not expect me, of all people, to know such things. Which is fair- she likely planned to meet my father, who departed with great fervor just a week before. But life progresses. New leaves grow. And in a land where the sun doesn't beam, stalks barely break the earth, and monsters roam freely, I believe it is better to celebrate the life than mourn the death. "Y-yes, Your Majesty. Though, it is a rather... intimate matter, the true name of a siren." "No worries, Lady Seabass," I raised my hand and sipped my wine. I set it back down with a bit more spirit than I anticipated. "So, you are here, apparently, to represent a... kingdom?" "Well, sir, not quite a Kingdom. It is more a... union of tribes." "A collection of disparate species then?" I leaned forward. I tried not to smile, but it was just fascinating to witness a Siren discuss matters of a more political nature. "Yes, I represent tribes of a variety of species." "Is that so? So, I must ask, what is the nature of your leadership? Given the different species that you represent, I doubt choosing a leader is easy." "Well, we have a High Council with one major representative from each tribe. Each tribe has its own, Lower Council, which handle things internally." "Just to be clear, what species do you represent, Lady Seabass?" "I... represent tribes, sir. We are all members of different tribes, rather than different... varieties of creature." She was avoiding the subject. She did not wish to discuss the actual monsters she represented. This was an interesting tactic, one that I could begin to grapple internally. She did not wish to represent her "people" as anything besides members of her nation. I could easily see how a regular human would react- if they knew she represented, say, a Kraken, then they would treat her far differently. There was only one flaw to that deflection. "Lady Seabass, right now, as I understand it, you are a Siren, claiming to represent multiple tribes. Now, right now, all I can do is assume that you represent multiple tribes of Sirens, and can thusly begin trade negotiations that specifically target that species. If my assumption is incorrect, please, enlighten me." There she was. Caught in the net. Her cheeks began to flush, the color beneath her eyes beginning to color in a perplexing display of blue and pink. It was an instinctual diversionary tactic, intended for deep-sea predators. On the surface, it had too much color to compete with. "I currently represent," she finally relented, "the Vervinian clan, the Seabass tribe, the Relashian Union and the... Diamondii family. Of their combined members are... Minotaurs, Dragons, Wolfmen, and Aluraunes." "Aluraunes? Here?" "Yes." "Wow, the poor things must be starved." "They are... the fewest members amongst us." "And sadly the easiest to feed," I said. I pondered on the nature of this union quite eagerly. What combined them, besides a strong sense of hunger? Perhaps an external threat, sure, but the only major threat to them in Solaria would be man. And even then, if they had dragons amongst their members, then what would they have to fear? No, a nation built on fear was built upon sand. "Thank you, Lady Seabass," I said. Before pausing. She did not seem to recognize the name as her own- it was probably the name of her tribe. "Do you mind if I call you Freesia instead? You can, similarly, call me Berian." "I wouldn't presume to, Lord Solarus!" she sat ramrod. She was terrified of disrespecting me. That was fine. "Very well then, Freesia," I made sure to hone in that I would refer to her as an individual. "Now... why have you have you come to my castle?" She seemed to have trouble processing how to respond. I gave her time. I had presumed that, up till now, she had honed her craft of conversing with people. She had dressed as human as she could, and she presented herself as welcoming as possible. But now that she was here, she was easily off put. She had prepared to speak with a man. She had not prepared to speak with me. "We... the High Council, I mean, wishes to enter a treaty of nonaggression with the human nation of Solaria," she finally managed.	'The wha? What you say, Jerob?' The King asked whilst shoving another biscuit almost entirely into his mouth. 'The monsters, sire. It appears they've... sent an emissary?' 'Poffit all, Jerob av you been snorting that magi dus again?' One of the councilman chimed in, causing the entire room to erupt in laughter. 'No, e's right m'lord. Look there!' The entire council, including the King, scurried over to the window and peered out to see a ghastly figure waiting patiently at the portcullis. The beast had a head like that of a boar. It stood on two feet and at the end of its arms were human-like hands, except... more boarish. Tusks protruded each side of it's mouth and hot steam crept out of it's nostrils as it breathed deeply in the cold autumn air. 'Good lord.' The King gasped. 'The bloody hell is that?' 'Lookin like a... a... Me thinks its a boar, sire.' 'What gave it away Brogard? Was it the shittin tusks?' Again the room gave way to laughter. 'Right, shut up the lot of you! Shh. There be no tellin how good its hearin is. Might be able to hear our hearts, for all we know.' The King put a finger up to his mouth. He scanned the room, looking at each member of the council. Then his gaze fell on one, Brogard of Farshire. 'Brogard, go talk to it.' The King said. The council turned its attention to Brogard. 'Oh ya can't beh serious... Do you see the size of at fing? Bastard could fuck me dead, sire!' 'Right, so best cover yer ass Brogard. Get to it.' 'But-' 'For your King, Brogard.' Torvald said before Brogard could finish. 'Oh poffit, Torv! You go do it en!' 'Don't be stupid, he axed you, ya weevil!' 'ENOUGH!' Irritated, the King brought the room to a complete silence. 'How about both of you get yer asses out there!' The two men didn't get but one word out. 'Or... or you can wrestle Filip.' Filip flashed a devilish smile. He was a beast of his own. Easily the largest man within the kingdom with enough hair on his chest to braid, and an uncanny fetish for inflicting pain whilst getting his jollies off, typically on those of his victims. How he made it onto the council is beyond even the brightest scholars. The two men ceased their objections and promptly made their way out into the courtyard to meet the beast. 'Wha do we sey? I mean... Wha if dat fing doen't spek Human?' 'Brogard you barely spek Human... And is English, ya dumb bastard.' The two men stopped, sure to keep their distance but close enough to have a conversation with the beast on the other side. 'ELLO THERE! WEEEEEE...' Brogard pointed to himself and Torvald, and continued. 'ARRRRRR PEEOOOPLLLLLE!' No response. 'Wha now?' Brogard asked in a whisper. 'I dunno. Try again.' He cleared his throat then started shouting again. 'ELLLLLLLOOOOO! WEEEE ARRR-' 'Fuckin hell, I know what you are! Poffit all, are you all fuckin deaf, or just mental?' Shock. Brogard had to gather himself after nearly falling over Torvald in a failed attempt to run away. 'Righ, well see ere, sir. You've entered our lands, an we want t'know why.' Torvald asked whilst helping Brogard regain his composure. 'I'm here to see your King.' The two looked at each other, then back toward the window where the council, and the King, were quietly watching. The King slowly slumped down below the bottom of the window. The pair looked back at each other, then back to the beast. 'Ahem. Well... The King is out... at... the moment. But I could... take a message?' 'What was that?' The beast pointed toward the window where council members, still watching intently, now retreated to the edges of the window, so as to not be so obvious... 'Uh, tha was nuffin.' Brogard intercepted the question first. 'It wasn't nuffin, I bloody saw the man. Call him down here so I can deliver my message.' 'Oh! I know. You saw ose squirrels, din't ya. Damn fings... They been all ova tha castle lately. Bastards keep me up at night with their... Fornicatin.' Annoyed, the beast pinched its forehead. 'Look... Obviously I'm not talking to the top brass here. So, I'll make this really easy. You lot go get your King, or I'll break through this here gate and stick your head...' He pointed to Brogard. 'Up his arse.' He pointed to Torvald.
[WP] You wear magic dampening bands normally reserved for keeping criminals from casting spells. Why? Because your spells are ludicrously more powerful than average, and the bands limit you enough to not break everything.	The sun came up at around 7, which was just in time, since I was fumbling around to find something important in the mess that I had in my room. The gradually intensifying light alllowed me to find that item - a small, black wrist band. Slipping it onto my right wrist, I then bolted out of the house and headed to the bus stop needed to go to school. Boarding the same old bus service 988, I plopped my bag down onto the nearest seat from the front of the bus. The only difference between this trip and any other trips I make on this service is that... this time, I won’t be dropping off at my previous school, but rather at Xelfurus’ Academy for the Arcane. Putting on my ear pieces, and putting on some music, I managed to tune out the various whispers and comments as the bus passed by my previous school, or rather... what was left of it. Arriving at the academy, I made a beeline for the general office, since the annoyingly warm orange beams of sunlight hinted to me that I was going to be late, since I had to attend to some administrative matters before class. Reaching the office, I am greeted by an old man with a blindfold. “Come.” A single word, but said with such authority that I followed him without thinking about it. A door opened up and we entered, to find a lavishly decorated office, with quartz beams and obsidian flooring. The blindfolded man sat on a chair behind a huge desk that had a name plate writing “Xelfurus IV”. “Good morning, Mister Xelfurus. I am the new transfer student, Alan. What are the remaining administrative matters that I have to settle before class?” I greet. “Oh, there isn’t anything left to settle. I just wanted to have a chat with you before you start your first day at our academy. So how are you feeling now? Excited? Nervous?” To be honest, I was pretty nervous. I doubt I could pay the school back for damages if I broke anything here. “I’m excited for my first day here, sir.” “That’s good, now let me clarify once more...” With the air turning more serious now, he continues. “Are you sure you want to study here? If you joined the army, you would definitely have a bright future ahead, even without much of an education... given your constitution.” “Ah, but I can only join the army right? What if I want to be a musician or a store clerk?” I jokingly reply. His face breaks into a small smile, then he replies... “If that is your choice, then I fully respect it. By all means, please enjoy your time here.” “Thank you sir.” I am ushered out of the office afterwards, to my first class... The bell rings. It is lunch time, and the students are filing out of class for their meals. For me, I am about to follow them, but a gentle voice stops me. “Alan... right? You are new here, wouldn’t it be better for someone to show you around first?” A wild class president appears! “Sure thing.” I reply with a cramped face. With a bemused face, she beckons me to follow her, which I do... all while thinking: how do I talk to girls again? I’m your average male adolescent! Cut me some slack! Since it was lunch time, she probably decided that it was a good idea to bring me to the cafeteria first. And she would be right, since I was hungry. Extremely hungry. The cafeteria was filled with students buzzing about their lessons, with many large cliques centred around various tables. The class president then showed me the various dishes that the cafeteria had to offer... which burned a massive hole in my wallet. This is what happens when you are an average person in a school full of elites, I guess. To my surprise, she decided to eat together with me... not that I minded, sure, but in my previous school, nobody actually ate with me. She told me more about the school’s facilities, like the training courts, various clubs and sports teams that the school had to offer. She then talked about her time here further, which served to remind me that this school is full of rich elites, which makes me a unique person in that I’m not one of them, I guess. As if noticing that very train of thought, she quickly added. “Well if you are strong, nobody would care about your circumstances. So don’t worry! You’ll fit in just fine! I mean, you did manage to cope with the classes today so... you’ll be fine.” She added with a reassuring smile. Oh gosh I met an angel, I thought as I heard that. At this point, a group of males came over, and started to chat to the president. As expected, she was popular, and realising that, I started cleaning up and proceeded to return my tray when I was stopped by one of those males. “What’s with you? Never seen you around before.” That male asked. “Ah, I’m new here. It’s nice to meet you.” I greeted the male who asked me the question. “Why bother clearing that? They’ll just do it for us anyways.” He says as he gestures to another small group of students who quickly rush to take the tray from me and scuttle off before I can object. “I couldn’t even say thanks...” I muse to myself, before looking at him again. He gives me a quizzical look, like I’m the weird one for wanting to thank a person who helped me with something. “In any case, why are you eating with the Lady?” He begins to interrogate me, and the rest of the cafeteria turns to look at us. “She was just showing me around, there’s nothing to it. Don’t worry about it man.” I respond, while dripping sweat due to dread. “It’s the class president’s duty to integrate new students in our school. There’s nothing more to it, Xavier. So leave us be now, and be on your way.” The class president, the Lady, interjects. Xavier and his group of males then turn around... But then Xavier closed up on me and throws a strong uppercut at me. This caught me off guard, and I groan in pain, though as expected, this would not have been enough to actually knock me out. “Well, what’s with this stupid wristband anyways.” Xavier cackles as he grabs my right arm and starts to remove the wristband there... “Wait! That’s a bad...” It was too late. The wristband came off, and with it, a torrent of magic power flowed out of me. The veritable torrent of energy that flowed out startled everyone, even myself. For most people, I figure it was because of the unexpectedly large flow, though for me, it was just because it was larger than usual. “Oh snap, this is a problem.” I mutter to myself, as I try to put the wristband (Xavier dropped it in shock) back onto my wrist. My problems were only starting. The wristband refused to slip onto my wrist. “You guys may want to leave the room now... it might blow up.” I warn. Most people ran right out after that. At least I’m not going to hurt anyone now... I think. Though I didn’t have much time to think since I was frantically trying to slip that damned wristband back on. “Dominance!” A second flow of magic power came through. Turning my head in the direction of that chant, I saw the Lady casting the spell... though I didn’t know what that did. “What’s that supposed to do again?” I question her as I continue to try putting the wristband on, which only faced further rejection similar to that of like poles between two magnets. “Wait, you seriously didn’t feel a thing? That was supposed to suppress your powers, don’t you feel a migraine or a headache?!” She yelled in disbelief. “Nope!” “Uuuu- Let me hear the cries of obedience and fear from those beneath me! Let them fear, let them revere! Aura of Dominance!” She tried again. “Well that tickled. I felt something this time.” “Are you serious... that’s supposed to knock most people out...” she muttered in complete shock. “Well that helps though. Now I have an idea on how to work this out.” I mutter to myself. “Arcane Construct! Aura of Dominance!” I chant, while casting it onto the wristband. A small red magic circle shows up in seconds, on the wristband. “Let’s see if this works.” I think of myself as I try strapping it back onto my wrist. An immediate loss of magic power can be felt as I strap it back on successfully at last. “Phew, glad it worked out.” I say as I collapse onto the ground. This wasn’t out of magic exhaustion, but rather because I was panicking really badly back there. “How in the world...” She comments with a cramped face. “My magic power reserves are ridiculously high for a human, and the problem with that is, my control over magic is only average, so it’s hard for me to control that most of the time. That’s why I need the wristband.” I explain to her succinctly. “Alan... huge doesn’t even begin to describe... you effectively have the same amount of magic power reserves as an entire corp in the army, you realise that right?” She replies. “Sorry to put you through all of that. I was hoping I wouldn’t cause any more trouble because of this.” I reply apologetically. Later, I would be called into Xelfurus’ office again to explain what happened. Though I would not be expelled, I did effectively lose any hope I had of having a normal school life.	"State your name!" The command came at me. The officer was very demanding. "I do not have to," I said as I waved my hand dismissively, like I was shooing a fly. He reached out and grabbed it, "ONLY CRIMINALS WEAR THESE BANDS!" He yelled while staring at my wrists. "Please let go, I have a note in my pocket that will explain." I asked politely, but he was in no mood to calmly discuss the details of my situation. He tried to twist my arm behind me in a submission maneuver. My arm not only didn't move, but I had turned magically into living stone. He jumped back letting go of me completely. He also drew his wand. I got the distinct feeling that I "fit the profile" of whatever he was looking for. "I have a note," I repeated, slowly, but I don't think I kept all the annoyance out of my voice. "I won't listen to criminals like you people." He narrowed his eyes and I don't know if he was going to even bother to read my note from the administration of magical affairs. If he did, he probably wouldn't have been turned into a frog. Racism is never nice. But having enough power to transfigure myself into living rock without so much as an incantation didn't even make him stop for a second. These magical enforcement officers were really dumb. The "you people" at the end just really sealed his fate. I yawned while returning to my normal flesh and blood self. I looked right at the frog. "Are you done?" He croaked at me indignantly. "I could just leave you here for the officers but an owl might decide to have something different for dinner. I did transform both of us while wearing these fine fashion accessories," I say to the frog while showing him that indeed they are the real suppressors that criminals wear. "I could also simply remove them and let you feel wherever I go." I pull one of them off my wrist. The crowd around us on the street fall to the ground. The release of the energy is enough to push them down. Frog can't even move. He's returned to his human form. He's on the ground. "I could remove the other one and destroy buildings, if I felt like it." "The hell you will," he spits. "You like the trees?" I ask. He looks, they too are bending down and away from me. "I could if I wanted. You should be glad I don't want to." I put the shackle back on my wrist. "I can still keep you from moving." He is trying so hard to get up but he simply can't move. The other magical enforcement officers arrive with wands at the ready. "Rashad?" Officer Robertson asks as he recognizes me. "Yes Jim." I say nonchalantly. "Guys, I have this one under control," he says. "Lower your wands and get out of here." They look at my wrists, then him, then frog. Jim is putting his wand away, then looks around at his fellow officers who are still wand at the ready. "Guys, really, we're all good here. Go prevent real crimes. NOW!" He yells, breaking his fellow officers concentration. They start turning away reconnecting with the other matters they must attend to. "Rashad, I am so sorry about this," he says, starting to stand on my prisoner. "I will take care of him, just go." "He's a racist son of a bitch. I almost had to protect myself." "I know," his reply. "I said I would take care of him. "
[WP] You wear magic dampening bands normally reserved for keeping criminals from casting spells. Why? Because your spells are ludicrously more powerful than average, and the bands limit you enough to not break everything.	"Alright, now go on." I whispered wearily to the battered man before me. "Go home to your family. Your punishment is over as far as I'm concerned." &#x200B; The man's eyes spoke volumes of gratitude and as tears welled in his eyes, he clutched the bag of food to his chest and fled down the narrow alleyway. I turned away and began walking back towards the main street, sensing the pity and anger he felt towards me shouldering the bands in his place. I didn't care of course. I had my own reasons for wanting his bands and taking away a punishment he didn't deserve. &#x200B; I took the two golden cuffs and shuffled my shredded sleeves up slightly, attaching the golden bands around each of my wrists with a heavy click. I readjusted my cloak and pack, then stepped out of the scarred alleyway and into the bustling main street of Hacha Yuam. &#x200B; Immediately, I caught a thick, meaty, stewy smell on the air. Across the street, I spied a foodstall, with a rather attractive young Greschen manning the till. I wove my way across the hustling foot traffic, coming away with only a few sharp elbows to the face and chest. The Greschen spotted me and straightened up attentively, her rosy Spettels twitching with anticipation. &#x200B; "Good day, traveler!" She beamed, her smile all shark-like teeth. "What can I serve you today?" &#x200B; I pulled the veil over my face back and gave a warm smile. "Just a bowl of your finest Kelvach, if it's not too much trouble." She was caught slightly off-guard by my request. She was clearly surprised a human was ordering one of her country's native foods. "You like Kelvach?" she queried, her thoughts all abuzz with layers of confusion, surprise and a poorly hidden excitement at someone who knew of her homeland's culture. &#x200B; After all, it was never easy being a Greschen outside of their homeland. Humans and other demi-humanoids found them repulsive, like a cross between rats, stray-cats and fish. Their hormone scents and erratic behavioural patterns didn't help either with them making nice to locals. &#x200B; But I couldn't afford to be partial to anyone. Not these days. Hence my reasons for travelling. That and- &#x200B; Suddenly, my train of thought was interrupted by a set of heavy footsteps outside. I sniffed the air and immediately tensed up. It was a band of Dragoon Enforcers from the Dragoon Corps Outpost. Dragoons were notorious for needless harassment, arrests and generally hunting for any excuse to clap Chiron Bands on anyone. All in the name of their Emperor, Siegmaus the Fifth. &#x200B; I glanced at the empty counter. They must be here for her. No doubt with some hefty deportation orders and a set of Bands. &#x200B; I brushed back the curtain and stepped outside. Sure enough, the bright red and silver armor of the Dragoon Corps shone back at me. The street had emptied rather quickly and judging by the looks of the troops in front of me, this particular squad had a reputation here. &#x200B; The one in front smiled (if you could call it that) and growled out at me. "You there, Citizen! Where is the owner of this "fine establishment"? We have some business with her." &#x200B; I swallowed my usual demeanor and put on a rather flustered front. "Uh-uh, well, you see, she's not in there right now, I think. I-I was waiting around for a few minutes and no one came out when I called, so I just thought waiting here for her was what I'd do!" &#x200B; The Dragoon captain picked at his teeth in a blatant attempt to intimidate me. "Is that so? So no one is here then?" This got some rather gleeful glances from his cohorts. I immediately chastised myself for giving them an opening. &#x200B; "Look here fellas, let's not be hasty! I'm sure she'll be right back and you can discuss your business civilly in good company, yeah?" &#x200B; The Dragoons burst out laughing and the captain stood right in front of me, eyes level with my own behind the veil I wore. He spoke very low and I could feel the spite and hatred in his voice. &#x200B; "Why on earth would we make time for a filth ridden Urch'chak like a GRESCHEN?" He growled in my ear. "She'll be lucky to see the outside of the city with what we have here." &#x200B; I stopped and took a very deep breath. This needed to stop setting me off at every town and city I passed through, but I knew my heart wouldn't let it go by. It never did, no matter how hard I tried to tell myself otherwise. &#x200B; I pulled my hands out of my pockets and let them hang loose by my sides. The Dragoon Captain noticed this and immediately stepped back. The troops behind him let magic flow into their spears and I noticed one at the back ready a fistful of lightning. The Captain himself conjured a Hollow Vestige in his hand in seconds and in the other, the Chiron Bands dangled, open and ready to snap shut on their prey. &#x200B; I slumped forward and inhaled, my magic flaring like a furnace roaring to life by the breath of a great bellows. My sleeves tore away at my contact with the arcane energies within, revealing the hundreds of gold bands beneath. Immediately, the dragoons stopped dead, their eyes flitting over my arms, counting the bands and awestruck by the visible magic oozing off their shiny surfaces. The street was filled with a rush of fierce wind and the chiming of the bands clinking against each other. I swept my arms out to the sides and stood square between the dragoons and the entrance to the store, indicating clearly I would not let them pass. &#x200B; The Dragoon Captain's bravado had all but evaporated by now. "Over 150 Chiron bands and still using magic!?" He stammered. The Chiron Bands fell from his hands and clattered uselessly on the stone street. &#x200B; I stooped down and picked up the Chiron Bands from the cold stone, calmly affixing them to my wrists. I inhaled sharply as the Band added another layer of restriction to my magic, before the pressure faded as quickly as it came. Disappointed and frustrated, I turned my gaze back to my Dragoon adversaries. &#x200B; I don't know what it was, but something compelled one of the Dragoon troopers to push his luck and hurl his spear in my direction. Instinctively, I swept my arm towards him and in a swirl of wind, he vanished. The air was deathly still for a second, before the other troopers realised their comrade was gone. &#x200B; The Dragoon Captain's resolve had completely evaporated by this point. Maintaining view on me, he and his remaining squad mates backed away slowly, their eyes filled with a mixture of hate and fear. He paused for a moment and then spoke slowly, his curiosity getting the better of him. "What crime?" he spat in a low voice. &#x200B; People were starting to come out of their homes and stalls, staring at us from all over the street. I tapped the bands on my arms and whispered back just loud enough to for him to hear. "Remember Mortus Gate?" I said with a false smirk. &#x200B; His eyes widened to the point where his irises almost vanished. They quickly seized their weapons and scurried up the street at full speed, headed now for the Dragoon Corps Outpost without a doubt. They would be back and I needed to leave. Soon. &#x200B; The Greschen from earlier ran out of the store and grabbed me from behind, spinning me around to face her. Her face was a mix of concern and fear. Clearly she had seen our exchange. "What have you done?" She was frantic, scared for her future now. "If they come back, who knows what more they will do!" &#x200B; I went to answer her, but then my vision warped and I felt my knees give out beneath me. I collapsed to my knees and the Greschen steadied my shoulders, confused at my sudden weakness. I tried to speak, but my tongue was leaden and unresponsive. I heard a voice in my ear: The great chain moves anew, doesn't it, Uria? Then, the world went dark.	Hushed whispered followed me as I walked into the store. On my wrist was a small metal band. Usually it was reserved for criminals, but I had been wearing once since I was a small child. I wasn't a criminal though, not that other people understood that, the whispers always started once someone noticed the band and someone always did. Sometimes people liked to use their magic on me as a prank, thinking I couldn't fight back, thinking I deserved it, but those people had no idea what I was hiding. Most of the time their magic didn't even touch me. I could sense when magic was attacking me and instinctively block it or even deflect it back. Half the time it ended with the police being called, because someone like me shouldn't be able to use magic, but I wasn't a criminal. I was just a person whose magic was just too powerful to be left unchecked. Today was one of those days. Today it was a group of teenage boys. They tried to hit me with a blast that would have done some damage if it had hit me, but it rebounded and hit the kids instead. I watched them go down. Everyone panicked. I heard the sirens before anyone else as my hearing was also above those around me. The police turned up. I knew the two men who stepped out of the vehicles. I didn't move. People were surrounding me, their arms outstretched, threatening to take my head off if I tried anything else. People were yelling at the officers, but they came straight over to me and shook my hand. The crowd weren't happy, they put me in the front of their cruiser as usual while they dealt with the crowd. For me, this was everyday life, the life of a criminal for doing nothing but trying to keep everyone else around me safe. One of these days though, I might snap. All those whispers, not being allowed into places, never being able to have a relationship, never been allowed to work, go on holiday, all because of this stupid band that they couldn't be bothered to change the design of to at least make it different to a criminals one. One day, I'll take it off, then they'll see something special, then they'll see my true power, but not today. Today and tomorrow will be the same. So will next week, so will be this time next year, because I know, that my power isn't something the world can deal with. I don't want to hurt anyone, but living this life just isn't fair.
[WP] You wear magic dampening bands normally reserved for keeping criminals from casting spells. Why? Because your spells are ludicrously more powerful than average, and the bands limit you enough to not break everything.	"So, explain to me again why you wear those?" the officer across from me said again in a tired and monotone voice. I was sitting in a cold, harshly lit, barely furnished "interview" room at the local precinct. "For like the fifth time, and to be honest I've stopped counting, I wear them to limit my magic!" The officer across from me just sighed and leaned back. "Sir, if you are under duress from another group, we would be able to protect you. If they have any sort of blackmail information on you, we would work with you to find and destroy that evidence. You don't have to wear those!" "I'm wearing them of my own free will! Like I've said, I wear them to LIMIT my magic!" I was beginning to get frustrated again and tried to control my emotions before I did something stupid, again. Which was why I was even here in the first place... "Alright, fine. You're wearing limiters of your own free will." The officer stated exhausted, yet somehow sarcastically. "Why?" "If I tell you why, can you promise to let me go? To walk out of here?" I said hopeful that I could possibly leave after spending 6 hours here. "Fine... I'm sure the investigator will probably agree with me that we won't be able to get anything else from you." the officer sighed once again. "Well, I first started wearing limiters about 5 years ago. Right around that time when there was that terrorist attack in the Arcanus apartment blocks, near downtown? The big mana explosion? Anyways, the reason I started wearing them was because I couldn't control my magic. Well, I could "control" it. I passed my Arcanum test and even got my degree in Enhanced Potion Engineering from the local School of Magi. But... I was doing some work in my free-time after I graduated and started work at a pharmaceutical company. Do you know of memory potions, performance enhancers, and other drugs when you were in a college?" I asked the officer. "Well, I didn't take any in college but I know quite a bit from being on the force for the past 12 years. But what does this have to do with anything?" the officer asked of me. "Well do you remember a potion syrup called Intelligentus? Makes your intelligence a little better for an hour? Can make you recall obscure facts? Some people would take it before a test hoping they wouldn't be popped afterwards with a Dectectus spell. Anyways, I was experimenting with improving it and made a breakthrough. Well, it wasn't on purpose. More of an accident. Anyways, I was experimenting with a new batch but forgot my notes on possible changes to the recipe at work. So I popped an improved Intelligentus to see if I could remember the changes I thought of. Well, lo and behold I remembered after 15 minutes. I made a new batch. Well the next day I tested it and it was radically improved. But, the changes I made shouldn't have done that. Only marginal improvements. Then I realized that maybe an increased temporary intellect could influence the process. So I tried again with the radically improved stuff. It came out exponentially better!" I exclaimed. "Wait, are you admitting to the manufacture and consumption of illegal substances?" the officer inquired. "No, it was for personal use, not distribution or sale. Anyways, after a couple of repeated trials, I realized that it wasn't that I was thinking of better ways to improve the recipe. I WAS improving the recipe. As in, my mana and intellect, although temporarily increased, was improving the quality of the effects. Not any changes to the recipe! Well, when I realized this I kind of went a little mad scientist. I pretty much increased my mana exponentially over the course of a weekend but then I started having problems. The power of my spells when I was crafting newer, more powerful batches became too powerful. I couldn't stop burning ingredients or catalyzing reactions. Even when I was performing magic as a part of my job, I couldn't control the power of them. Eventually they fired me when I ruined too many batches and cost them too much money and lost production. Well, I was walking home after applying to some jobs when three junkies tried to mug me in an alleyway in an apartment complex. I just tried using a simple deflector aura when one of them threw a fireball at me and..." "And what?" the officer, now interested and intrigued. "If they mugged you, we could file a report. Get it investigated!" "NO! It doesn't matter. You wouldn't find them. Well, at least not all of them. The aura worked a little too well is my point. After that, I started wearing limiters. Some worked, some didn't. Most would break after a week or two. I still had to be careful, anything I casted that I didn't actively try to control would overpower and break the limiters." I stated, looking at my hands. "Not possible, standard limiters on the market have a tolerance of 80k mana shards. Police ones have up to a 150k tolerance. Which is why we want to know how you got your hands on limiters with a tolerance of 800k!?! As far as we know, only high level government agencies have access to that tech. So did you steal it?" the officer glared at me. "All of you don't get it, do you? It's the fact that I need limiters that strong and I can still break them!" I yelled across at him. "Not possible, I've only seen a few hardcore guys even be able to slightly degrade ours. You wouldn't even scratch the ones you're wearing right now!" the officer laughed. "Are you sure about that?" I asked of him and raised my hands above the table showing the three high-tech limiters I had on each wrist. As I concentrated on the atomic and arcane bonds holding the limiters together, I broke each and every one with my mind. As the officer watched, they all disintegrated into dust on the table. "I think it's time I leave now. I don't know what limiters you're talking about officer. Good luck into your investigation on that missing shipment." And with the officer wide-eyed and gaping, I simply walked through the once-present reinforced and warded door. Now, a pile of dust...	Hushed whispered followed me as I walked into the store. On my wrist was a small metal band. Usually it was reserved for criminals, but I had been wearing once since I was a small child. I wasn't a criminal though, not that other people understood that, the whispers always started once someone noticed the band and someone always did. Sometimes people liked to use their magic on me as a prank, thinking I couldn't fight back, thinking I deserved it, but those people had no idea what I was hiding. Most of the time their magic didn't even touch me. I could sense when magic was attacking me and instinctively block it or even deflect it back. Half the time it ended with the police being called, because someone like me shouldn't be able to use magic, but I wasn't a criminal. I was just a person whose magic was just too powerful to be left unchecked. Today was one of those days. Today it was a group of teenage boys. They tried to hit me with a blast that would have done some damage if it had hit me, but it rebounded and hit the kids instead. I watched them go down. Everyone panicked. I heard the sirens before anyone else as my hearing was also above those around me. The police turned up. I knew the two men who stepped out of the vehicles. I didn't move. People were surrounding me, their arms outstretched, threatening to take my head off if I tried anything else. People were yelling at the officers, but they came straight over to me and shook my hand. The crowd weren't happy, they put me in the front of their cruiser as usual while they dealt with the crowd. For me, this was everyday life, the life of a criminal for doing nothing but trying to keep everyone else around me safe. One of these days though, I might snap. All those whispers, not being allowed into places, never being able to have a relationship, never been allowed to work, go on holiday, all because of this stupid band that they couldn't be bothered to change the design of to at least make it different to a criminals one. One day, I'll take it off, then they'll see something special, then they'll see my true power, but not today. Today and tomorrow will be the same. So will next week, so will be this time next year, because I know, that my power isn't something the world can deal with. I don't want to hurt anyone, but living this life just isn't fair.
[WP] You wear magic dampening bands normally reserved for keeping criminals from casting spells. Why? Because your spells are ludicrously more powerful than average, and the bands limit you enough to not break everything.	“Are you sure he's ready for...,” her voice cracked as though she'd been hit by a wave of emotion. Her voice was familiar, but I couldn't place it. Were they talking about me? I felt a pang in my chest and I couldn't understand why. It was like having the name of someone you loved dearly ripped out from under you like a carpet. You can feel yourself tumbling, when you know you should be standing tall. A chill ran down my spine and I could hear a crackling noise in the back of my head. I opened my eyes and all I could see was electric blue waves on a backdrop of nothingness. The flow of energy had taken over my vision. She was there. I could feel her, but I couldn't see her. I closed my eyes. “Keeping them on is just going make him suffer longer.” That voice... that one, I didn't know. There was no familiarity to it. No warmth. He was stating this matter-of-factually, as if he had spoken those words to countless people before her. I felt warm hands on mine. “He's freezing, do we have a warmer blanket?” There was a long pause, some shuffling. After a moment I could feel the weight of the blanket lowered down and arranged on top of me. I had to admit, for the first time in a long time, I was terrified. “Are you sure this is the fastest,” she choked back a sob, “way to do this?” I could tell the warm hands were hers, as her voice was hovering over my ears. She smelled faintly of gingerbread and cigarette smoke. I felt like I was home. “When you feel like you're ready, just press the buttons on the bands under his thumbs. Once they're removed, I don't imagine him holding on more than a couple of minutes.” I could hear a door closing and then I knew it was just me and her. I opened my mouth to speak, but all I could do was moan. While I couldn't remember much, I knew those braces couldn't come off. “Shhh, it's okay.” She was rubbing my arms profusely at this point. “I know you're in a lot of pain.” I couldn't see it, but I know she was forcing a smile. Honestly, I wasn't hurting. I couldn't feel much of anything other than the electricity in the air around me. I opened my eyes again. This time the electricity was shifting forms around me. All I could see were dark eyes, shrouded in a sea of blues and greens, waiting to escape. The crackling in my ears was slowly getting louder. I shook my head. I wanted her to know that I wasn't hurting, but I didn't know how to tell her without being able to speak. I closed my eyes again. I didn't want to see the eyes staring back at me from the void. “I know you don't remember much,” she was getting better at holding back the sadness in her voice, but the tears on my arm betrayed her. “You were a hero, you know?” 'I'm no hero,' I thought. I squeezed her hand, but realized that my grip was weak. “It's okay, don't try to force it.” She kissed my hand. “You fought all kinds of monsters and bad people, you know?” She had to stop a moment to regain composure. “You were on the television. People loved you. They still do. They've sent so many flowers.” There was a hint of joy, as though she was having a fond memory. It was too far away from me. I gasped heavily and couldn't help but open my eyes. It wasn't just one set of eyes staring back at me anymore. There were countless pairs, and all of them looked angry. I didn't want to look at them, but I couldn't close my eyes, either. I felt as though they saw through my soul, judging me. I could feel her hands around one of my wrists. “As soon as I take these off, you won't have to worry anymore. No more pain.” She gasped for air and she was sobbing again, this time she wasn't holding back. I could feel her head against my chest. I felt for the back of her head using my free hand and left it there. I wanted to pull her closer, tell her it was going to be alright... but I think I was beginning to grasp that that wasn't the case. 'I'm dying, aren't I?' I could hear the click of one of the braces coming off and my eyes forced open again. The blues and greens were now crimsons and yellows, spinning in a bottomless vortex, and I could tell that it was pulling me into it. The intermittent crackling suddenly became a torrential downpour of sound. 'Come home.' It was almost inaudible, but it felt as though my body lurched forward towards energy. 'It's long past time for your payment.' Payment? I couldn't remember what the voice was talking about, but I felt the words to be true. There was another click and I flew into the energy. It was then that I had known that I left my body behind. My body, and this familiar woman that I couldn't place. The last thing I heard was a weak, echoing, “I love you.” &#x200B; \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ &#x200B; This was my first submission to WP. I hope you enjoyed it. (•‿•)	Hushed whispered followed me as I walked into the store. On my wrist was a small metal band. Usually it was reserved for criminals, but I had been wearing once since I was a small child. I wasn't a criminal though, not that other people understood that, the whispers always started once someone noticed the band and someone always did. Sometimes people liked to use their magic on me as a prank, thinking I couldn't fight back, thinking I deserved it, but those people had no idea what I was hiding. Most of the time their magic didn't even touch me. I could sense when magic was attacking me and instinctively block it or even deflect it back. Half the time it ended with the police being called, because someone like me shouldn't be able to use magic, but I wasn't a criminal. I was just a person whose magic was just too powerful to be left unchecked. Today was one of those days. Today it was a group of teenage boys. They tried to hit me with a blast that would have done some damage if it had hit me, but it rebounded and hit the kids instead. I watched them go down. Everyone panicked. I heard the sirens before anyone else as my hearing was also above those around me. The police turned up. I knew the two men who stepped out of the vehicles. I didn't move. People were surrounding me, their arms outstretched, threatening to take my head off if I tried anything else. People were yelling at the officers, but they came straight over to me and shook my hand. The crowd weren't happy, they put me in the front of their cruiser as usual while they dealt with the crowd. For me, this was everyday life, the life of a criminal for doing nothing but trying to keep everyone else around me safe. One of these days though, I might snap. All those whispers, not being allowed into places, never being able to have a relationship, never been allowed to work, go on holiday, all because of this stupid band that they couldn't be bothered to change the design of to at least make it different to a criminals one. One day, I'll take it off, then they'll see something special, then they'll see my true power, but not today. Today and tomorrow will be the same. So will next week, so will be this time next year, because I know, that my power isn't something the world can deal with. I don't want to hurt anyone, but living this life just isn't fair.
[WP] You wear magic dampening bands normally reserved for keeping criminals from casting spells. Why? Because your spells are ludicrously more powerful than average, and the bands limit you enough to not break everything.	"So, explain to me again why you wear those?" the officer across from me said again in a tired and monotone voice. I was sitting in a cold, harshly lit, barely furnished "interview" room at the local precinct. "For like the fifth time, and to be honest I've stopped counting, I wear them to limit my magic!" The officer across from me just sighed and leaned back. "Sir, if you are under duress from another group, we would be able to protect you. If they have any sort of blackmail information on you, we would work with you to find and destroy that evidence. You don't have to wear those!" "I'm wearing them of my own free will! Like I've said, I wear them to LIMIT my magic!" I was beginning to get frustrated again and tried to control my emotions before I did something stupid, again. Which was why I was even here in the first place... "Alright, fine. You're wearing limiters of your own free will." The officer stated exhausted, yet somehow sarcastically. "Why?" "If I tell you why, can you promise to let me go? To walk out of here?" I said hopeful that I could possibly leave after spending 6 hours here. "Fine... I'm sure the investigator will probably agree with me that we won't be able to get anything else from you." the officer sighed once again. "Well, I first started wearing limiters about 5 years ago. Right around that time when there was that terrorist attack in the Arcanus apartment blocks, near downtown? The big mana explosion? Anyways, the reason I started wearing them was because I couldn't control my magic. Well, I could "control" it. I passed my Arcanum test and even got my degree in Enhanced Potion Engineering from the local School of Magi. But... I was doing some work in my free-time after I graduated and started work at a pharmaceutical company. Do you know of memory potions, performance enhancers, and other drugs when you were in a college?" I asked the officer. "Well, I didn't take any in college but I know quite a bit from being on the force for the past 12 years. But what does this have to do with anything?" the officer asked of me. "Well do you remember a potion syrup called Intelligentus? Makes your intelligence a little better for an hour? Can make you recall obscure facts? Some people would take it before a test hoping they wouldn't be popped afterwards with a Dectectus spell. Anyways, I was experimenting with improving it and made a breakthrough. Well, it wasn't on purpose. More of an accident. Anyways, I was experimenting with a new batch but forgot my notes on possible changes to the recipe at work. So I popped an improved Intelligentus to see if I could remember the changes I thought of. Well, lo and behold I remembered after 15 minutes. I made a new batch. Well the next day I tested it and it was radically improved. But, the changes I made shouldn't have done that. Only marginal improvements. Then I realized that maybe an increased temporary intellect could influence the process. So I tried again with the radically improved stuff. It came out exponentially better!" I exclaimed. "Wait, are you admitting to the manufacture and consumption of illegal substances?" the officer inquired. "No, it was for personal use, not distribution or sale. Anyways, after a couple of repeated trials, I realized that it wasn't that I was thinking of better ways to improve the recipe. I WAS improving the recipe. As in, my mana and intellect, although temporarily increased, was improving the quality of the effects. Not any changes to the recipe! Well, when I realized this I kind of went a little mad scientist. I pretty much increased my mana exponentially over the course of a weekend but then I started having problems. The power of my spells when I was crafting newer, more powerful batches became too powerful. I couldn't stop burning ingredients or catalyzing reactions. Even when I was performing magic as a part of my job, I couldn't control the power of them. Eventually they fired me when I ruined too many batches and cost them too much money and lost production. Well, I was walking home after applying to some jobs when three junkies tried to mug me in an alleyway in an apartment complex. I just tried using a simple deflector aura when one of them threw a fireball at me and..." "And what?" the officer, now interested and intrigued. "If they mugged you, we could file a report. Get it investigated!" "NO! It doesn't matter. You wouldn't find them. Well, at least not all of them. The aura worked a little too well is my point. After that, I started wearing limiters. Some worked, some didn't. Most would break after a week or two. I still had to be careful, anything I casted that I didn't actively try to control would overpower and break the limiters." I stated, looking at my hands. "Not possible, standard limiters on the market have a tolerance of 80k mana shards. Police ones have up to a 150k tolerance. Which is why we want to know how you got your hands on limiters with a tolerance of 800k!?! As far as we know, only high level government agencies have access to that tech. So did you steal it?" the officer glared at me. "All of you don't get it, do you? It's the fact that I need limiters that strong and I can still break them!" I yelled across at him. "Not possible, I've only seen a few hardcore guys even be able to slightly degrade ours. You wouldn't even scratch the ones you're wearing right now!" the officer laughed. "Are you sure about that?" I asked of him and raised my hands above the table showing the three high-tech limiters I had on each wrist. As I concentrated on the atomic and arcane bonds holding the limiters together, I broke each and every one with my mind. As the officer watched, they all disintegrated into dust on the table. "I think it's time I leave now. I don't know what limiters you're talking about officer. Good luck into your investigation on that missing shipment." And with the officer wide-eyed and gaping, I simply walked through the once-present reinforced and warded door. Now, a pile of dust...	"Alright, now go on." I whispered wearily to the battered man before me. "Go home to your family. Your punishment is over as far as I'm concerned." &#x200B; The man's eyes spoke volumes of gratitude and as tears welled in his eyes, he clutched the bag of food to his chest and fled down the narrow alleyway. I turned away and began walking back towards the main street, sensing the pity and anger he felt towards me shouldering the bands in his place. I didn't care of course. I had my own reasons for wanting his bands and taking away a punishment he didn't deserve. &#x200B; I took the two golden cuffs and shuffled my shredded sleeves up slightly, attaching the golden bands around each of my wrists with a heavy click. I readjusted my cloak and pack, then stepped out of the scarred alleyway and into the bustling main street of Hacha Yuam. &#x200B; Immediately, I caught a thick, meaty, stewy smell on the air. Across the street, I spied a foodstall, with a rather attractive young Greschen manning the till. I wove my way across the hustling foot traffic, coming away with only a few sharp elbows to the face and chest. The Greschen spotted me and straightened up attentively, her rosy Spettels twitching with anticipation. &#x200B; "Good day, traveler!" She beamed, her smile all shark-like teeth. "What can I serve you today?" &#x200B; I pulled the veil over my face back and gave a warm smile. "Just a bowl of your finest Kelvach, if it's not too much trouble." She was caught slightly off-guard by my request. She was clearly surprised a human was ordering one of her country's native foods. "You like Kelvach?" she queried, her thoughts all abuzz with layers of confusion, surprise and a poorly hidden excitement at someone who knew of her homeland's culture. &#x200B; After all, it was never easy being a Greschen outside of their homeland. Humans and other demi-humanoids found them repulsive, like a cross between rats, stray-cats and fish. Their hormone scents and erratic behavioural patterns didn't help either with them making nice to locals. &#x200B; But I couldn't afford to be partial to anyone. Not these days. Hence my reasons for travelling. That and- &#x200B; Suddenly, my train of thought was interrupted by a set of heavy footsteps outside. I sniffed the air and immediately tensed up. It was a band of Dragoon Enforcers from the Dragoon Corps Outpost. Dragoons were notorious for needless harassment, arrests and generally hunting for any excuse to clap Chiron Bands on anyone. All in the name of their Emperor, Siegmaus the Fifth. &#x200B; I glanced at the empty counter. They must be here for her. No doubt with some hefty deportation orders and a set of Bands. &#x200B; I brushed back the curtain and stepped outside. Sure enough, the bright red and silver armor of the Dragoon Corps shone back at me. The street had emptied rather quickly and judging by the looks of the troops in front of me, this particular squad had a reputation here. &#x200B; The one in front smiled (if you could call it that) and growled out at me. "You there, Citizen! Where is the owner of this "fine establishment"? We have some business with her." &#x200B; I swallowed my usual demeanor and put on a rather flustered front. "Uh-uh, well, you see, she's not in there right now, I think. I-I was waiting around for a few minutes and no one came out when I called, so I just thought waiting here for her was what I'd do!" &#x200B; The Dragoon captain picked at his teeth in a blatant attempt to intimidate me. "Is that so? So no one is here then?" This got some rather gleeful glances from his cohorts. I immediately chastised myself for giving them an opening. &#x200B; "Look here fellas, let's not be hasty! I'm sure she'll be right back and you can discuss your business civilly in good company, yeah?" &#x200B; The Dragoons burst out laughing and the captain stood right in front of me, eyes level with my own behind the veil I wore. He spoke very low and I could feel the spite and hatred in his voice. &#x200B; "Why on earth would we make time for a filth ridden Urch'chak like a GRESCHEN?" He growled in my ear. "She'll be lucky to see the outside of the city with what we have here." &#x200B; I stopped and took a very deep breath. This needed to stop setting me off at every town and city I passed through, but I knew my heart wouldn't let it go by. It never did, no matter how hard I tried to tell myself otherwise. &#x200B; I pulled my hands out of my pockets and let them hang loose by my sides. The Dragoon Captain noticed this and immediately stepped back. The troops behind him let magic flow into their spears and I noticed one at the back ready a fistful of lightning. The Captain himself conjured a Hollow Vestige in his hand in seconds and in the other, the Chiron Bands dangled, open and ready to snap shut on their prey. &#x200B; I slumped forward and inhaled, my magic flaring like a furnace roaring to life by the breath of a great bellows. My sleeves tore away at my contact with the arcane energies within, revealing the hundreds of gold bands beneath. Immediately, the dragoons stopped dead, their eyes flitting over my arms, counting the bands and awestruck by the visible magic oozing off their shiny surfaces. The street was filled with a rush of fierce wind and the chiming of the bands clinking against each other. I swept my arms out to the sides and stood square between the dragoons and the entrance to the store, indicating clearly I would not let them pass. &#x200B; The Dragoon Captain's bravado had all but evaporated by now. "Over 150 Chiron bands and still using magic!?" He stammered. The Chiron Bands fell from his hands and clattered uselessly on the stone street. &#x200B; I stooped down and picked up the Chiron Bands from the cold stone, calmly affixing them to my wrists. I inhaled sharply as the Band added another layer of restriction to my magic, before the pressure faded as quickly as it came. Disappointed and frustrated, I turned my gaze back to my Dragoon adversaries. &#x200B; I don't know what it was, but something compelled one of the Dragoon troopers to push his luck and hurl his spear in my direction. Instinctively, I swept my arm towards him and in a swirl of wind, he vanished. The air was deathly still for a second, before the other troopers realised their comrade was gone. &#x200B; The Dragoon Captain's resolve had completely evaporated by this point. Maintaining view on me, he and his remaining squad mates backed away slowly, their eyes filled with a mixture of hate and fear. He paused for a moment and then spoke slowly, his curiosity getting the better of him. "What crime?" he spat in a low voice. &#x200B; People were starting to come out of their homes and stalls, staring at us from all over the street. I tapped the bands on my arms and whispered back just loud enough to for him to hear. "Remember Mortus Gate?" I said with a false smirk. &#x200B; His eyes widened to the point where his irises almost vanished. They quickly seized their weapons and scurried up the street at full speed, headed now for the Dragoon Corps Outpost without a doubt. They would be back and I needed to leave. Soon. &#x200B; The Greschen from earlier ran out of the store and grabbed me from behind, spinning me around to face her. Her face was a mix of concern and fear. Clearly she had seen our exchange. "What have you done?" She was frantic, scared for her future now. "If they come back, who knows what more they will do!" &#x200B; I went to answer her, but then my vision warped and I felt my knees give out beneath me. I collapsed to my knees and the Greschen steadied my shoulders, confused at my sudden weakness. I tried to speak, but my tongue was leaden and unresponsive. I heard a voice in my ear: The great chain moves anew, doesn't it, Uria? Then, the world went dark.
[WP] You wear magic dampening bands normally reserved for keeping criminals from casting spells. Why? Because your spells are ludicrously more powerful than average, and the bands limit you enough to not break everything.	“Are you sure he's ready for...,” her voice cracked as though she'd been hit by a wave of emotion. Her voice was familiar, but I couldn't place it. Were they talking about me? I felt a pang in my chest and I couldn't understand why. It was like having the name of someone you loved dearly ripped out from under you like a carpet. You can feel yourself tumbling, when you know you should be standing tall. A chill ran down my spine and I could hear a crackling noise in the back of my head. I opened my eyes and all I could see was electric blue waves on a backdrop of nothingness. The flow of energy had taken over my vision. She was there. I could feel her, but I couldn't see her. I closed my eyes. “Keeping them on is just going make him suffer longer.” That voice... that one, I didn't know. There was no familiarity to it. No warmth. He was stating this matter-of-factually, as if he had spoken those words to countless people before her. I felt warm hands on mine. “He's freezing, do we have a warmer blanket?” There was a long pause, some shuffling. After a moment I could feel the weight of the blanket lowered down and arranged on top of me. I had to admit, for the first time in a long time, I was terrified. “Are you sure this is the fastest,” she choked back a sob, “way to do this?” I could tell the warm hands were hers, as her voice was hovering over my ears. She smelled faintly of gingerbread and cigarette smoke. I felt like I was home. “When you feel like you're ready, just press the buttons on the bands under his thumbs. Once they're removed, I don't imagine him holding on more than a couple of minutes.” I could hear a door closing and then I knew it was just me and her. I opened my mouth to speak, but all I could do was moan. While I couldn't remember much, I knew those braces couldn't come off. “Shhh, it's okay.” She was rubbing my arms profusely at this point. “I know you're in a lot of pain.” I couldn't see it, but I know she was forcing a smile. Honestly, I wasn't hurting. I couldn't feel much of anything other than the electricity in the air around me. I opened my eyes again. This time the electricity was shifting forms around me. All I could see were dark eyes, shrouded in a sea of blues and greens, waiting to escape. The crackling in my ears was slowly getting louder. I shook my head. I wanted her to know that I wasn't hurting, but I didn't know how to tell her without being able to speak. I closed my eyes again. I didn't want to see the eyes staring back at me from the void. “I know you don't remember much,” she was getting better at holding back the sadness in her voice, but the tears on my arm betrayed her. “You were a hero, you know?” 'I'm no hero,' I thought. I squeezed her hand, but realized that my grip was weak. “It's okay, don't try to force it.” She kissed my hand. “You fought all kinds of monsters and bad people, you know?” She had to stop a moment to regain composure. “You were on the television. People loved you. They still do. They've sent so many flowers.” There was a hint of joy, as though she was having a fond memory. It was too far away from me. I gasped heavily and couldn't help but open my eyes. It wasn't just one set of eyes staring back at me anymore. There were countless pairs, and all of them looked angry. I didn't want to look at them, but I couldn't close my eyes, either. I felt as though they saw through my soul, judging me. I could feel her hands around one of my wrists. “As soon as I take these off, you won't have to worry anymore. No more pain.” She gasped for air and she was sobbing again, this time she wasn't holding back. I could feel her head against my chest. I felt for the back of her head using my free hand and left it there. I wanted to pull her closer, tell her it was going to be alright... but I think I was beginning to grasp that that wasn't the case. 'I'm dying, aren't I?' I could hear the click of one of the braces coming off and my eyes forced open again. The blues and greens were now crimsons and yellows, spinning in a bottomless vortex, and I could tell that it was pulling me into it. The intermittent crackling suddenly became a torrential downpour of sound. 'Come home.' It was almost inaudible, but it felt as though my body lurched forward towards energy. 'It's long past time for your payment.' Payment? I couldn't remember what the voice was talking about, but I felt the words to be true. There was another click and I flew into the energy. It was then that I had known that I left my body behind. My body, and this familiar woman that I couldn't place. The last thing I heard was a weak, echoing, “I love you.” &#x200B; \_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_ &#x200B; This was my first submission to WP. I hope you enjoyed it. (•‿•)	I opened my hands and stared at the lines; focussing on them trying to remember them perfectly. It’s a common exercise for me, calming and providing focus. The next step is to move my fingers. Ordered shapes and signs are made. I go through the rhythms 5 or more times casting the signs that help shape the energy. Finally I say the words, the low humming chant that help the mind give the spell structure. I can do all the individual pieces one hundred times flawlessly, yet every time I fail. A controlled breath and I start again. This time I build the power. I feel it travel from the earth up through my legs, my belly wants to hold it and build it but I let it flow right through. Down my arms it travels to my hands. I am already speaking the words. My hands make the signs flawlessly. The energy leaves me and the metal desk in front of me melts into slag as a bright glowing orb flashes into being above it. The bands at my wrist crackle and discharge sparks of every hue as they work to contain the power I’m channeling. Without them I would be forbidden from even trying such a simple spell but I resent them all the same. They mark me as different. I let the energy fade and the light slowly dims, the metal of the desk already going from white hot to cherry read as the Janitors blast it with their wands of cold. I look up at my tutors. Their expressions are mostly grim and they shake their heads solemnly. I have failed again. All bar one however; old Tiberius smiles and winks at me. I thought I was imagining it but I had done better this time. Tiberius was hobbling over using his staff to support him. “Algenon you are getting better. I think once you gotten used to the bands you’ll have this?” “Sir, it’s been 5 years. The willowisp should have been the graduating spell for my first term at this school.” I hope that I’m keeping the frustration from my voice. “Yes but you’ve not been wasting the time. You’ve still got 5 years of good magical theory under your belt. We’ve only had the bands for a term.” Tiberius rolled up his sleeves revealing complex tattoos on his forearms. “In my day we didn’t have these bands. Someone like you had a much more painful journey before they could control their power. There is no rubbing them off either.” He held out a hand and with a gesture and a few words summoned a wisp that hovered between them. As he did, his tattoos glowed. “Go back a few generations and fulcrums usually met stickier ends. Most of the blowing themselves to smithereens” He left the willowisp grow bright and hot for a second till they both were forced to step back, less they be singed. Finally Tiberius let go of the spell and it faded. Between the black tattoo’d lines his skin was pink as though it had just been slapped. He rubbed them before letting his sleeves cover them once more. “Your time will come. You are the first fulcrum born into a world of knowledge and magical understanding that could let you use the full extent of your powers one day.” I thanked him and returned to my cell. The stone walls carved to absorb and deflect energy. It was a junior scholars cell. Spartan and built for my protection and the schools. If I could just learn this spell I might finally get a room with a view. I opened my hands and stared at the lines; focussing on them trying to remember them perfectly.
[WP] You wear magic dampening bands normally reserved for keeping criminals from casting spells. Why? Because your spells are ludicrously more powerful than average, and the bands limit you enough to not break everything.	After a couple of years I got used to the contemptuous looks because of the giant obsidian collar and handcuffs. They were made to draw attention, but I think they are beautiful in their own way. They are relatively thin but wide pieces, carved from a single monolith of obsidian for maximum effect. They don't really have a color, its like there is a tear in the space-time: no shine, almost no shape to comprehend. Usually the pieces are worn by criminals to dampen their magic powers. The single-carved ones were worn only by 3 in existence: Scarlet Fechrint, The Flame-princess, Dmitry Mihlakov, The Powerful, and Eric Takumi, The Butcher. All notorious criminals whose magic power far exceeded everyone elses by orders of magnitudes. They used them to for no good. Now, the fourth one is on me but let's talk before you jump into conclusions: It all started when they discovered I have magic powers. It wasn't uncommon, around 5 percent of the population can wield magic. The problem started when they tried to teach me how to use them. The most basic lesson is lifting a softball from our desk at school, but when I tried it I accidentally lifted the entire school up. From that time I was constantly monitored and checked. Luckily they didn't make the same mistake like with Mihlakov, and advised my parents to move to a rural area where specialist can teach me more safely. They even provided foundings to start our new life. As the years went by, I became one of the most well trained magician ever to live but most of the training was focused on precision. This precision is the hardest of all. Like trying to make scrambled eggs with an excavator. I did my best and eventually I even managed to butter a toast, but to further lower the risks, they made me wear the collars. I really hated them at first but I straight up love them now. I was allowed to modify them and now they look more like a jewelry than a prison sentence. I still need special license to travel because criminals are monitored. No matter that I'm not one, I'm still being stopped regularly. However there is a bright side to the powers as well. They sometimes invite me to universities to talk about my powers and experiences, I even got a part-time job at the Magistratus Maximus. But I really don't like talking, I rather use my magic. Luckily, I'm allowed to take them off sometime. But what can a monster like me do as a living? I am on working at the docks, hauling containers. To be precise, I haul all of them at the same time. Its truly magnificent to watch hundreds of thousands of containers weighing millions of tons doing pirouettes in the sky, only to arrive precisely at their destination. After a long day, with my collar still on, I arrive home. I am really tired, so I head to the basement to open the vault. This vault is carved by a single obsidian with walls as thick as a meter. I secure the door and then unlock my collars. The collars that bounds my very existence into this world. Without them, I am present everywhere and every time. Without them, I am Magic itself. EDIT: Reformatting.	Kiki watches the cashier freeze, her mouth falling open just a little bit as her eyes stray exactly to her wrist. Where her sleeve had pulled up just enough to show the gleaming gold band of a city permissioned criminal. Ugh, she knew she should have taken her fiance's hoodie, instead of her bell sleeved jacket. Please just take her money. They were so close. Just sell me my chicken and let me go home. The girl blinks momentarily, still reaching out for her debit card. “Uh, are you a-” “I’m a Level Thirteen, not a criminal. Just- I-” “A Level Thirteen!” The cashier at the Ashwoods at least had the decency to hiss whisper this, though it was six AM and there were only two elderly people shopping in the store right now, hemming at the deli counter. “Your birthday must have been awful.” Oh, okay. It was this kind of interaction. She nods. “Yeah, I filled the whole house with cake. Top to bottom red velvet and raspberry with cream cheese frosting. My mom’s familiars were bears and they dug us out pretty quick, but the house still smells like cake. It’s a museum now in Tacoma. “You’re Kiki Amandine,” The cashier whispers, her name tag says ‘Erika’. She’s still not taking the ding dang debit card from where it was still hanging in the air. “I am Kiki,” she nods under her brightly colored hood, “and Kiki needs food badly.” She gestures to her groceries, unbagged on the belt. A whole chicken, a bag of fresh green beans, lemon, fresh herbs, and six bottles of wine. “Oh!” Erika claps her hands together pulling at a string of beads on her wrist. She was a clever cashier, keeping pre-made spells like that. In an instant Kiki’s groceries are bagged and the debit card finally changes hands. “Thank you so much.” “Not a problem, we just don’t get your types up here very much.” She nods, “Yeah, I’m here for the holidays. Got the in-laws up here. Didn’t know you guys didn’t have grocery delivery.” Erika nods, a knowing nod. Her card is returned to her in record time and the receipt goes into the bag without question. “Sorry about that. Usually Dale does our deliveries but he got chased by someone’s loose wolf yesterday and decided he was taking the holidays off.” “Oh my God, poor dear. Thank you again. Sorry to startle you.” Kiki twists her wrist as she grabs her groceries, the air misting over the conveyor turning from white to pink and forming into a large pan of hot frosted cinnamon rolls. “For your trouble.” “Oh! Thank you! It was no trouble! No trouble at all!” Kik hurries out to her car where Fondant is waiting in the passenger seat, the large fluffy Samoyed is sticking his tongue through the cracked window in a motion for her to hurry up. She just had to survive three more days with Henry’s parents. Just three more days.
[WP] You wear magic dampening bands normally reserved for keeping criminals from casting spells. Why? Because your spells are ludicrously more powerful than average, and the bands limit you enough to not break everything.	After a couple of years I got used to the contemptuous looks because of the giant obsidian collar and handcuffs. They were made to draw attention, but I think they are beautiful in their own way. They are relatively thin but wide pieces, carved from a single monolith of obsidian for maximum effect. They don't really have a color, its like there is a tear in the space-time: no shine, almost no shape to comprehend. Usually the pieces are worn by criminals to dampen their magic powers. The single-carved ones were worn only by 3 in existence: Scarlet Fechrint, The Flame-princess, Dmitry Mihlakov, The Powerful, and Eric Takumi, The Butcher. All notorious criminals whose magic power far exceeded everyone elses by orders of magnitudes. They used them to for no good. Now, the fourth one is on me but let's talk before you jump into conclusions: It all started when they discovered I have magic powers. It wasn't uncommon, around 5 percent of the population can wield magic. The problem started when they tried to teach me how to use them. The most basic lesson is lifting a softball from our desk at school, but when I tried it I accidentally lifted the entire school up. From that time I was constantly monitored and checked. Luckily they didn't make the same mistake like with Mihlakov, and advised my parents to move to a rural area where specialist can teach me more safely. They even provided foundings to start our new life. As the years went by, I became one of the most well trained magician ever to live but most of the training was focused on precision. This precision is the hardest of all. Like trying to make scrambled eggs with an excavator. I did my best and eventually I even managed to butter a toast, but to further lower the risks, they made me wear the collars. I really hated them at first but I straight up love them now. I was allowed to modify them and now they look more like a jewelry than a prison sentence. I still need special license to travel because criminals are monitored. No matter that I'm not one, I'm still being stopped regularly. However there is a bright side to the powers as well. They sometimes invite me to universities to talk about my powers and experiences, I even got a part-time job at the Magistratus Maximus. But I really don't like talking, I rather use my magic. Luckily, I'm allowed to take them off sometime. But what can a monster like me do as a living? I am on working at the docks, hauling containers. To be precise, I haul all of them at the same time. Its truly magnificent to watch hundreds of thousands of containers weighing millions of tons doing pirouettes in the sky, only to arrive precisely at their destination. After a long day, with my collar still on, I arrive home. I am really tired, so I head to the basement to open the vault. This vault is carved by a single obsidian with walls as thick as a meter. I secure the door and then unlock my collars. The collars that bounds my very existence into this world. Without them, I am present everywhere and every time. Without them, I am Magic itself. EDIT: Reformatting.	Beneath the eye of the moon, the hissing winds swept away the subtle grate of a window shrieking open. A moment later, a cloaked figure leaped out the narrow opening, and sprinted across the barren fields toward the desolate streets of the city. The figure moved with an odd determination, disregarding the strength of the currents, as if they were naught but a summer breeze. Soon, the tender lights of the hearths shifting out the windows and onto the streets illuminated the shadows beneath the cloak, revealing the figure's visage. He was a boy, with eyes red as fire, and hair the color of bone. He went through bridges were the fog hung low, and alleys the moonlight feared, until he reached an alleyway where a column of piled pebbles blazed with green fire. Its light was dim, weak as that of a candle, but it was enough to etch the woman swathed in rags beside it. She looked at him through eyes dark as the night. Her wrists were bound with ivory bands. "What pleasant surprises the winds bring," she said, and tilted her head. "I've been waiting for you boy." The certainty in the boy's step faded. His cloak billowed with the gusts, yet the tremor of his extremities was visible in the rapid motions of his sleeves. He took a step back. "It was a mistake. I apologize." "What was a mistake?" she said, and gestured for him to come closer. The boy didn't want to, but it was too late, for his legs were moving in their own volition. "Nothing is ever a mistake but the path fate chose for us." The boy nodded. "I came, yes. I do not know why. I can't explain it. I wouldn't have come if I would've known you would be here. I thought you were imprisoned." The woman chuckled, gazed at the fire-imbued pebbles. "You would have come either way, for I called you, and for that I apologize. It's not my intention to force you to carry a burden you never asked for. I do not know why is you who I had to call. The stars told me to, and they refuse to explain the reason behind their decision. But one thing you have to know, and that is that tonight I will leave, at last, this soil and this life." "What?" the boy cried, gasping. "But you are Areneta, Fate-bender, Light of the Moon. You can't die. Even Death has admitted his fear of you." "He did, yes," she said, and flaunter the bands on her wrists. "But times have changed. I limited myself to prevent a catastrophe. See, I don't think many minds can sustain my power without shattering, and I fret mine was on the verge of snapping. I had no choice, unfortunately. Death knows that, and so he will soon come, for with this bands I'm no opponent to his scythe." She drew a deep breath. "I'm fine with that. My time has come, yet one thing I have to give you before joining the stars." "What is it?" the boy asked, swallowing hard. His lips quivered and cracked. She handed him a thin book. "The secrets of my life, the secrets of my power, they are all written there. It's your time to shine now, Intanis. But always remember you have the choice. You can burn it, and risk turning the fate of all things. Or you can read it, and follow what it says, following the written fate of all things. It's your choice." Intanis frowned, his heart thumped. "But--but I don't know about magic." There was no answer. The pebbles extinguished, and the shadows engulfed the alley. Amidst them, only the book shone. Intanis gazed at the stars. "Why?" he cried, and his hands reached for the book. --------------------------------------------- r/NoahElowyn
[WP] You wear magic dampening bands normally reserved for keeping criminals from casting spells. Why? Because your spells are ludicrously more powerful than average, and the bands limit you enough to not break everything.	Cordell deflected the immense fireball, a large section of forest exploded in the distance. Another boring attempt at his life, how utterly distasteful. He retook his prideful stance, next to the moonlit pond. He looked at his assassin with impassive eyes, “Impressive, I’m sure, what did Emiliano offer you?”, he quickly absorbed a lightning strike into his right-hand, blue-white arcane signs hovering in the air around his fingers. The assassin paused, frustrated with his targets skill and arrogance, he pulled down his black-hood, “I suppose there’s no need to hide my identity, only one of us will leave this place. My name is Demarcus, and I’m going to kill you.” Cordell chuckled while his fingers mechanically went through well-practiced signs, “He sent you to die, Demarcus,”, long red needles that faded towards black at the tip, pointed at Demarcus from every angle. Without warning every needle shot out like bolts, towards the center where Demarcus stood. Impossibly, he managed to sense the magic and find a spot where he was only grazed by two of the needles. Demarcus answered by casting a fire spell, an illusion of a red dragon’s head appeared in the air between them and breathed fire at Cordell. Cordell split the fire-breath in two with a swift air-strike, flames sputtered on the ground behind him, “You’re very good, I will concede that,” infinitesimal shadows permeated the ground as tiny flaming rocks hovered in the air above them. The small flaming pellets shot out in random directions, homing in on Demarcus. Demarcus began running towards Cordell, his black robes fluttered in the air as he leapt over a few of the bullets, he desperately cast a quick spell. A large earth-spike penetrated Cordell’s chest from behind, the pellets fell limp to the ground. Breathing with some difficulty, his now red-stained teeth grinned with excitement, “I’ve never seen anyone do that move before, you’ve got some quick movements to you, Demarcus!” “I hate to do this to such a rising talent, but you leave me with little option,”, the spike snapped, his wounds began closing and a large white disk encompassing the entire forest materialized in the skies above them, turning night into day. Thick manacles fell out from within his dark-blue robes onto the grassy ground. The iron-cuffs twisted around on the ground by themselves for a few moments, finally free from their impossible task of containing this level of magic. Demarcus looked at Cordell in a mix of awe and terror as he slowly realized his opponent’s power had been almost entirely restrained by magic-shackles, “That’s… impossible! Not even the most powerful can cast anything more than a small puff of air with those constraints on!” “You should take this moment to reflect, and feel some small semblance of gratitude, few have seen, or will ever see what you are about to, in your final moments,” Cordell and Demarcus along with tufts of dirt, rocks and trees began rising, slowly, towards the white disk in the sky. An intense hot white-glow engulfed everything beneath the disk in a flash. After summoning a new pair of magic-shackles, and re-applying them to himself, Cordell walked out of the vast crater that had, up to a few minutes ago, been known as Meliworth Grove. ***** I decided to practice fighting scenes in this story, if you feel like it was hard to follow what was happening I would love to know, critique is always welcome! If you found something enjoyable here, consider checking out my other stories along with longer running series that I re-post from WP to [/r/NordicNarrator](https://www.reddit.com/r/NordicNarrator/), in any case, thanks for reading!	Beneath the eye of the moon, the hissing winds swept away the subtle grate of a window shrieking open. A moment later, a cloaked figure leaped out the narrow opening, and sprinted across the barren fields toward the desolate streets of the city. The figure moved with an odd determination, disregarding the strength of the currents, as if they were naught but a summer breeze. Soon, the tender lights of the hearths shifting out the windows and onto the streets illuminated the shadows beneath the cloak, revealing the figure's visage. He was a boy, with eyes red as fire, and hair the color of bone. He went through bridges were the fog hung low, and alleys the moonlight feared, until he reached an alleyway where a column of piled pebbles blazed with green fire. Its light was dim, weak as that of a candle, but it was enough to etch the woman swathed in rags beside it. She looked at him through eyes dark as the night. Her wrists were bound with ivory bands. "What pleasant surprises the winds bring," she said, and tilted her head. "I've been waiting for you boy." The certainty in the boy's step faded. His cloak billowed with the gusts, yet the tremor of his extremities was visible in the rapid motions of his sleeves. He took a step back. "It was a mistake. I apologize." "What was a mistake?" she said, and gestured for him to come closer. The boy didn't want to, but it was too late, for his legs were moving in their own volition. "Nothing is ever a mistake but the path fate chose for us." The boy nodded. "I came, yes. I do not know why. I can't explain it. I wouldn't have come if I would've known you would be here. I thought you were imprisoned." The woman chuckled, gazed at the fire-imbued pebbles. "You would have come either way, for I called you, and for that I apologize. It's not my intention to force you to carry a burden you never asked for. I do not know why is you who I had to call. The stars told me to, and they refuse to explain the reason behind their decision. But one thing you have to know, and that is that tonight I will leave, at last, this soil and this life." "What?" the boy cried, gasping. "But you are Areneta, Fate-bender, Light of the Moon. You can't die. Even Death has admitted his fear of you." "He did, yes," she said, and flaunter the bands on her wrists. "But times have changed. I limited myself to prevent a catastrophe. See, I don't think many minds can sustain my power without shattering, and I fret mine was on the verge of snapping. I had no choice, unfortunately. Death knows that, and so he will soon come, for with this bands I'm no opponent to his scythe." She drew a deep breath. "I'm fine with that. My time has come, yet one thing I have to give you before joining the stars." "What is it?" the boy asked, swallowing hard. His lips quivered and cracked. She handed him a thin book. "The secrets of my life, the secrets of my power, they are all written there. It's your time to shine now, Intanis. But always remember you have the choice. You can burn it, and risk turning the fate of all things. Or you can read it, and follow what it says, following the written fate of all things. It's your choice." Intanis frowned, his heart thumped. "But--but I don't know about magic." There was no answer. The pebbles extinguished, and the shadows engulfed the alley. Amidst them, only the book shone. Intanis gazed at the stars. "Why?" he cried, and his hands reached for the book. --------------------------------------------- r/NoahElowyn
[WP] You wear magic dampening bands normally reserved for keeping criminals from casting spells. Why? Because your spells are ludicrously more powerful than average, and the bands limit you enough to not break everything.	The smoke drifted into the air above the city, black and red, and as much like a demon as any we had fought in the Lost Forest. "Daniel," said Raul, as he came panting to the side of my horse. "Daniel, do you see?" I said no words as I spurred my horse onwards, galloping furiously towards Agdar. Behind me, my small company that had survived the fruitless quest into the forest, began to follow. The city reeked of death. Of blood and piss and innards. Body parts lay strewn on the cobbled streets, as if hands and heads were no more than leaves and horse-shit. We had been led on a ruse. Our mission, ostensibly to find the missing King of the Fire Mines, where new information had led us into the Lost Forest, had been a lie. We had been manipulated so that my small army of elites would leave Adgar. Whatever had come to the city after we had left, the guards had been no match. Neither had the wall provided any cover. It lay as rubble, smouldering and broken. The palace burned in the distance and my heart sank as I rode past the Queen and her children, hung naked from gallows in the town square. Innards spilled out of long incissions down their stomachs. They were not my concern though, not in that moment. Only my wife mattered to me then. There came a blood-curdling scream from somewhere behind me. Raul, who had gained on me riding swift on his steed, lay burning like a binfire on the cobbled ground near the dead Queen, wriggling and writhing. I stopped and turned, almost being flung off my horse as I did so. Three figures in black rags had appeared, from what shadows I know not, surrounding his body as he rolled in pain trying to quench the hungry fire. Flames brewed from the hands of the nearest sorcerers. Sorcerers I recognised as apprentices of the missing King. A tunnel of flame leapt from the sorcerer's fingers, burning Raul's head down to the bone. I heard screams all around me. The rest of my company. I had led them into an ambush, in my haste. A whip of fire snapped from a cloaked figure, towards my horse. It missed, but scared her enough to buck onto her hinds and send me falling. The creatures aporoached; I scrambled to my knees and began to cast, channelling all my anger and hatred into a single spell. Only the bands I wore around both wrists saved me from destroying myself in the process. A bolt of pure white light exploded from the ground beneath them, shredding the cobble to dust and sending the figures into the air. Nothing but ash came back down. I got back to my feet and sprinted the rest of the way to my home. Soon, I laid eyes upon it. It burned and smouldered like all the others. As did Elaine's body. Her skin was charred black. Her eyes burned away. She had been chained to her bed, prior to the fire. I could only imagine what they did to her before they let her burn alive. I cursed God and swore vengeance upon an entire kingdom, even if I had to bring wrath alone. I would be the messenger of the apocalypse. The snapping of a twig alerted me; half a dozen more dark sorcerers had entered the remains of my home. A fireball screeched as it was sent into me, throwing me against the wall and scorching the skin beneath my tunic. I tried to cast, a ray of light left me but was easily deflected. Then, they were upon me. Not spells this time, but boots and fists and iron. God help me. Somehow, between blows, I managed to rip first the left binding, and then the right, from off my wrists. The words of Forlen, my teacher long ago, ran through my mind. Never remove either binding, if you value the lives of any you loved. But they were all dead. What did it matter now? The light that came from me was not white, not this time. It was a tangle of purple and black. It engulfed first me, then the sorcerers, the house, and finally the city. It seemed to explode my entire being, ripping my muscles from my body. Then, the dark light stopped and I fell to the ground unconcious. --- I woke to what felt like a stick being dragged over my back. Then over my hair. A clicking sound rang in my ear. My eyes slowly opened. Hot vomit made its way up my throat as I pushed myself away from the charred figure standing in front of me. Elaine's jaw was little more than bone and sinew. Her tongue was gone, and as she tried to speak, she clicked and rattled. More of them walked in. Skeletons of those I recognised. Raul. The city guards. The Queen and her children, their rotting stomachs still open. "King of the dead," came a whisper. A dozen figures surrounded me, touching gently as they whispered. "King of the dead, avenge us."	Beneath the eye of the moon, the hissing winds swept away the subtle grate of a window shrieking open. A moment later, a cloaked figure leaped out the narrow opening, and sprinted across the barren fields toward the desolate streets of the city. The figure moved with an odd determination, disregarding the strength of the currents, as if they were naught but a summer breeze. Soon, the tender lights of the hearths shifting out the windows and onto the streets illuminated the shadows beneath the cloak, revealing the figure's visage. He was a boy, with eyes red as fire, and hair the color of bone. He went through bridges were the fog hung low, and alleys the moonlight feared, until he reached an alleyway where a column of piled pebbles blazed with green fire. Its light was dim, weak as that of a candle, but it was enough to etch the woman swathed in rags beside it. She looked at him through eyes dark as the night. Her wrists were bound with ivory bands. "What pleasant surprises the winds bring," she said, and tilted her head. "I've been waiting for you boy." The certainty in the boy's step faded. His cloak billowed with the gusts, yet the tremor of his extremities was visible in the rapid motions of his sleeves. He took a step back. "It was a mistake. I apologize." "What was a mistake?" she said, and gestured for him to come closer. The boy didn't want to, but it was too late, for his legs were moving in their own volition. "Nothing is ever a mistake but the path fate chose for us." The boy nodded. "I came, yes. I do not know why. I can't explain it. I wouldn't have come if I would've known you would be here. I thought you were imprisoned." The woman chuckled, gazed at the fire-imbued pebbles. "You would have come either way, for I called you, and for that I apologize. It's not my intention to force you to carry a burden you never asked for. I do not know why is you who I had to call. The stars told me to, and they refuse to explain the reason behind their decision. But one thing you have to know, and that is that tonight I will leave, at last, this soil and this life." "What?" the boy cried, gasping. "But you are Areneta, Fate-bender, Light of the Moon. You can't die. Even Death has admitted his fear of you." "He did, yes," she said, and flaunter the bands on her wrists. "But times have changed. I limited myself to prevent a catastrophe. See, I don't think many minds can sustain my power without shattering, and I fret mine was on the verge of snapping. I had no choice, unfortunately. Death knows that, and so he will soon come, for with this bands I'm no opponent to his scythe." She drew a deep breath. "I'm fine with that. My time has come, yet one thing I have to give you before joining the stars." "What is it?" the boy asked, swallowing hard. His lips quivered and cracked. She handed him a thin book. "The secrets of my life, the secrets of my power, they are all written there. It's your time to shine now, Intanis. But always remember you have the choice. You can burn it, and risk turning the fate of all things. Or you can read it, and follow what it says, following the written fate of all things. It's your choice." Intanis frowned, his heart thumped. "But--but I don't know about magic." There was no answer. The pebbles extinguished, and the shadows engulfed the alley. Amidst them, only the book shone. Intanis gazed at the stars. "Why?" he cried, and his hands reached for the book. --------------------------------------------- r/NoahElowyn
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	Part 1 “Green Tea for take away!” the barista called from the counter. “Thanks” I said, picking up the tea and smiling. Cute Barista \- the words danced above her head for a moment, light and translucent, before fading away. “No problem,” she said, smiling back. As we left the cafe and met the brisk fall weather, Robin smacked my shoulder “Just ask her out already!” he said, chidingly. “She flirts with you every time you get a drink” “What? Who?” “Tracy” I looked at Robin blankly. Robin sighed audibly. “The barista. Jesus, how do you remember some names no matter how long its been and some names you never remember at all?” “I remember the important ones. The rest just aren’t worth the space” I said distractedly. Robin laughed and started talking about something else, but I was only half listening. It wasn’t Robin’s fault that I had drifted off, or even mine, really--it was the crowd. Crowds were always hard, and Edinburgh in the morning was nothing if not crowded. Instead of faces, though, what my eyes searched for were the words--names, descriptions, pictures that danced around the heads of those passing by. Baker, Student, Angry Man, Mysterious Child, all flitting about, a milling swirly of words and faces. The names I would talk to--they were usually important. Usually. Then, suddenly, like a sudden glimpse of the sun through the clouds, the words burned through my eyes. The Forgotten King. But, for the first time, those words were not alone. The Guardian Bear blazed into life, The Worthiest of the Nine, The Soldier King. An image of golden crowns on a field of blue took the fore, then more images, words. More than I’d ever seen. Too many to count, to remember. Then just like that they faded. And where they had blazed, sat a sad, shriveled homeless man. Old, worn-down, and tired looking, his eyes peered dimly out of hollows in his face, looking out at the passersby with a sadness so real I could almost taste it. A cardboard sign sat beside him, propped against the side of the building, bearing words scrawled in a childlike, blocky scrawl: “I am supposed to help you but I don’t know how.” He had no cup, no tin, no upturned cap. Suddenly the sounds of the crowd hit me again, and I realized I’d stopped stock still. Robin was shaking my shoulder, roughly. “Marlo! Marlo!” “what--What!” I snapped, turning to Robin roughly. “Are you ok?” There was real concern on Robin’s face, eyes tight with worry. “I’m--I’m fine. I just remembered something, that’s all.” Robin gave me a look that clearly spelled doubt, but didn’t say anything. “Listen, Robin, I gotta take care of some things, ok--you’ll have to hoof it the rest of the way without me.” “What’s going on with you?” “Robin, I’m fine. Just bugger off.” “Fine--fine. Just, call me later, alright?” “Sure, sure” I said, half listening. As Robin disappeared into the crowd, I approached the old man. I crouched, looking him over. He didn’t really seem to see me--or even the crowd, really. Instead he seemed to see... through us, all of us, eyes lost in a forlorn vision only he could see. “You’d do better with a tin.” I said, gesturing at the ground in front of his sign. My words seemed to bring him halfway out of his reverie. He looked at me, and as he did, his gaze sharpened, focused, grew more intense. “You,” He breathed. “You can see me.” “What,” I said, skeptically, “They can’t?” “Of course they can see me.” he waved a hand in front of his face, as though brushing something away, “But you--you can see me. What I am. Who I am. I can see it in you.” I wanted to deny it, to laugh in his face. But I didn’t. Instead I sighed. “Come on.” I said, standing. “Let me get you a coffee.”	I sat at my computer staring at the screen as I always do before deciding on a game to play. Well, one that I can run that is. Browsing through my library a title catches my interest. One I can't remember purchasing, let alone installing. "Forgotten RPG" "Okay..." I say to myself, "Why not?" I double click it and a prompt fills my screen. "Are you sure you wish to continue?" I stare for a few moments. I've never had this happen before. It always just loads up to the start menu, I click play, I lag through it for about an hour before I quit and try another. I hover the mouse over "Yes" before thinking again, "Sure, why not? I'll lay out and try another." I click yes and immediately the screen turns all white and grows so bright I can't bare to look at the screen. The whole room is lit so bright I think I must've finally fried my computer. A gust of wind hits me in the face sending me off my chair and I hit my head on the floor knocking myself unconscious. I wake to a jab in the ribs. I keep my eyes closed overcome with a brutal headache. I just want to sleep more. "I think he's dead sir." A voice says "He has no wounds to speak of though." Another says. "Could be sick with something." A third more gruff voice says, "Have the cleric check him out, he may be contagious." I hear a shuffle quickly move away from me. "Relax George" The gruff voice continued, "You ain't gonna catch something from kicking him." "You say that now, but you just wait." George says, "With the plague going around I ain't taking any chances." "I'm alive." I say, opening my eyes. I'm in the middle of a forest, three men stand around me looking down on me, a fourth making his way over. "How do you feel?" George asks, visibly taking a step back. "Pit in your stomach? Aches all over the body? You gonna throw up all over yourself?" "I'm dreaming." I say to myself, "This is a dream. I fell out of my chair and hit my head." "Look at him Tarius, he's jabbering to himself." George said "Get him on his feet." Tarius said, "We'll take him back to camp." "Captain, you can't be serious." The third said, "He'll spread his madness." "I am your captain and you will do as your told Robb" Tarius said, "Now, the two of you will get him on his feet. We can question him back at the camp." As they pull my to my feet, my vision clears and I'm able to see them much better. Floating above their heads are names. "Tarius Lvl 15 Captain" "George Lvl 10 Soldier" "Robb Lvl 10 Soldier" "Darrius Lvl 10 Cleric" "What do those words above your heads mean?" I ask Tarius "You're one of those huh?" Tarius says more to himself than me, "After the fracture your kind appeared. You're of another world. The New King is looking for your kind. Change of plan boys, we're returning home. We'll be paid our weights in gold for this one." "Not of this world? New King? What are you talking about?" I ask "Oh you don't worry about that." Tarius says, as if noticing me for the first time, "Darrius! Sleep spell on him, I don't him giving us any trouble." "Yes sir!" He said. He muttered words in an unknown language that sounded vaguely like Latin, and moved his hands in an intricate formation before I drifted off to sleep. When I woke I was in the back of a wagon moving through the streets of a large city of stone. "Hey, you." One of the others in the wagon said, "You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there." "That sounds oddly familiar." I said "What?" He asks looking confused "Nothing, sorry." I said, "No, I woke up in some forest. Apparently the New King is looking for people with an ability I have." "You're one of those gifted with analyze?" Another said, "But if they captured you. Oh gods, where are they taking us?" "That definitely sounds familiar." I said "What?" The first asks again confused. "Nothing." I said, "Where are they taking us though?" "The dungeons would be my guess." He said, "Though you are going somewhere else. You'll be brought before the New King. If I'm correct, show respect and do as you're told and everything will be ok." I decided to take a closer look at the others in the wagon. There were four of us in total. The one that was explaining everything was "Vekel Lvl 10 Rebel fighter" A man next to him had a gag in his mouth "Adridil Lvl 14 Rebel Caster" The last one caught my eye though. "The Forgotten King Lvl 100 True King" "Your name." I said to him, "The Forgotten King. What does it mean?" "I haven't been called that in many years." He said, "You are new to this land am I correct?" "Yeah, I woke up here out in the woods. These guards here found me. Said the New King is looking for people with my ability. I'm not sure what that means." "Ah, you have the sight. He's hoping to use your kind as a way to find me. He thinks my death will bring an end to the rebellion." "Why does he need us if you're sitting right here?" "Because my new friend, he does not know he has me or what I plan to do." With that he smiled and looked off out into the gathering crowd. We had finally arrived at our destination.
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	Part 1 “Green Tea for take away!” the barista called from the counter. “Thanks” I said, picking up the tea and smiling. Cute Barista \- the words danced above her head for a moment, light and translucent, before fading away. “No problem,” she said, smiling back. As we left the cafe and met the brisk fall weather, Robin smacked my shoulder “Just ask her out already!” he said, chidingly. “She flirts with you every time you get a drink” “What? Who?” “Tracy” I looked at Robin blankly. Robin sighed audibly. “The barista. Jesus, how do you remember some names no matter how long its been and some names you never remember at all?” “I remember the important ones. The rest just aren’t worth the space” I said distractedly. Robin laughed and started talking about something else, but I was only half listening. It wasn’t Robin’s fault that I had drifted off, or even mine, really--it was the crowd. Crowds were always hard, and Edinburgh in the morning was nothing if not crowded. Instead of faces, though, what my eyes searched for were the words--names, descriptions, pictures that danced around the heads of those passing by. Baker, Student, Angry Man, Mysterious Child, all flitting about, a milling swirly of words and faces. The names I would talk to--they were usually important. Usually. Then, suddenly, like a sudden glimpse of the sun through the clouds, the words burned through my eyes. The Forgotten King. But, for the first time, those words were not alone. The Guardian Bear blazed into life, The Worthiest of the Nine, The Soldier King. An image of golden crowns on a field of blue took the fore, then more images, words. More than I’d ever seen. Too many to count, to remember. Then just like that they faded. And where they had blazed, sat a sad, shriveled homeless man. Old, worn-down, and tired looking, his eyes peered dimly out of hollows in his face, looking out at the passersby with a sadness so real I could almost taste it. A cardboard sign sat beside him, propped against the side of the building, bearing words scrawled in a childlike, blocky scrawl: “I am supposed to help you but I don’t know how.” He had no cup, no tin, no upturned cap. Suddenly the sounds of the crowd hit me again, and I realized I’d stopped stock still. Robin was shaking my shoulder, roughly. “Marlo! Marlo!” “what--What!” I snapped, turning to Robin roughly. “Are you ok?” There was real concern on Robin’s face, eyes tight with worry. “I’m--I’m fine. I just remembered something, that’s all.” Robin gave me a look that clearly spelled doubt, but didn’t say anything. “Listen, Robin, I gotta take care of some things, ok--you’ll have to hoof it the rest of the way without me.” “What’s going on with you?” “Robin, I’m fine. Just bugger off.” “Fine--fine. Just, call me later, alright?” “Sure, sure” I said, half listening. As Robin disappeared into the crowd, I approached the old man. I crouched, looking him over. He didn’t really seem to see me--or even the crowd, really. Instead he seemed to see... through us, all of us, eyes lost in a forlorn vision only he could see. “You’d do better with a tin.” I said, gesturing at the ground in front of his sign. My words seemed to bring him halfway out of his reverie. He looked at me, and as he did, his gaze sharpened, focused, grew more intense. “You,” He breathed. “You can see me.” “What,” I said, skeptically, “They can’t?” “Of course they can see me.” he waved a hand in front of his face, as though brushing something away, “But you--you can see me. What I am. Who I am. I can see it in you.” I wanted to deny it, to laugh in his face. But I didn’t. Instead I sighed. “Come on.” I said, standing. “Let me get you a coffee.”	“Unsurprising, isn’t it, my liege?” He looks up at me. A chuckle from his throat from chapped lips. “They’ve forgotten me too.” He knows. His eyes, sparklets of blue with stormy grey. We’re kindred, we say in silence. People walk past us. They always walk past us. Walking around us, bodies on the move dressed in warm-knitted coats and hats. They don’t care about us. They’ve forgotten us and we served as their kings for years. In dreams, we were their kings as many were before us, to children, women, the elderly, the forgotten, the abused, the wealthy, and the disabled. In life... I hand The Forgotten King all of the money in my wallet. Dark tall buildings lurched over us. “I won’t be needing it.” He ask me, “How are you doing?” “It’s like a dark hole in my chest, nothing is there, nothing satisfies anymore. It is depression. It is failing.” I answer, refeeling the dark circles in my eyes. In life... we ruled and served over them. “I see...” He looks at me. I ready to leave. “Let me take you to them.” I glance over my shoulder. His arm is extended with a welcoming hand at the end, but it looks like the road to a beginning. “To who?” “The ones who never forgot.” I take his hand and leave my former life behind. I’m led down an alleyway by The Forgotten King that’s darker than the winter evening he’s stolen me away from.
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	Part 1 “Green Tea for take away!” the barista called from the counter. “Thanks” I said, picking up the tea and smiling. Cute Barista \- the words danced above her head for a moment, light and translucent, before fading away. “No problem,” she said, smiling back. As we left the cafe and met the brisk fall weather, Robin smacked my shoulder “Just ask her out already!” he said, chidingly. “She flirts with you every time you get a drink” “What? Who?” “Tracy” I looked at Robin blankly. Robin sighed audibly. “The barista. Jesus, how do you remember some names no matter how long its been and some names you never remember at all?” “I remember the important ones. The rest just aren’t worth the space” I said distractedly. Robin laughed and started talking about something else, but I was only half listening. It wasn’t Robin’s fault that I had drifted off, or even mine, really--it was the crowd. Crowds were always hard, and Edinburgh in the morning was nothing if not crowded. Instead of faces, though, what my eyes searched for were the words--names, descriptions, pictures that danced around the heads of those passing by. Baker, Student, Angry Man, Mysterious Child, all flitting about, a milling swirly of words and faces. The names I would talk to--they were usually important. Usually. Then, suddenly, like a sudden glimpse of the sun through the clouds, the words burned through my eyes. The Forgotten King. But, for the first time, those words were not alone. The Guardian Bear blazed into life, The Worthiest of the Nine, The Soldier King. An image of golden crowns on a field of blue took the fore, then more images, words. More than I’d ever seen. Too many to count, to remember. Then just like that they faded. And where they had blazed, sat a sad, shriveled homeless man. Old, worn-down, and tired looking, his eyes peered dimly out of hollows in his face, looking out at the passersby with a sadness so real I could almost taste it. A cardboard sign sat beside him, propped against the side of the building, bearing words scrawled in a childlike, blocky scrawl: “I am supposed to help you but I don’t know how.” He had no cup, no tin, no upturned cap. Suddenly the sounds of the crowd hit me again, and I realized I’d stopped stock still. Robin was shaking my shoulder, roughly. “Marlo! Marlo!” “what--What!” I snapped, turning to Robin roughly. “Are you ok?” There was real concern on Robin’s face, eyes tight with worry. “I’m--I’m fine. I just remembered something, that’s all.” Robin gave me a look that clearly spelled doubt, but didn’t say anything. “Listen, Robin, I gotta take care of some things, ok--you’ll have to hoof it the rest of the way without me.” “What’s going on with you?” “Robin, I’m fine. Just bugger off.” “Fine--fine. Just, call me later, alright?” “Sure, sure” I said, half listening. As Robin disappeared into the crowd, I approached the old man. I crouched, looking him over. He didn’t really seem to see me--or even the crowd, really. Instead he seemed to see... through us, all of us, eyes lost in a forlorn vision only he could see. “You’d do better with a tin.” I said, gesturing at the ground in front of his sign. My words seemed to bring him halfway out of his reverie. He looked at me, and as he did, his gaze sharpened, focused, grew more intense. “You,” He breathed. “You can see me.” “What,” I said, skeptically, “They can’t?” “Of course they can see me.” he waved a hand in front of his face, as though brushing something away, “But you--you can see me. What I am. Who I am. I can see it in you.” I wanted to deny it, to laugh in his face. But I didn’t. Instead I sighed. “Come on.” I said, standing. “Let me get you a coffee.”	He had many an internal debate whether his "ability" was supernatural, preternatural or entirely imagined. Difficult to explain but easy to conceal, David's ability to see each persons "Title" - he named it - was generally harmless. An ethereal word floating above the heads of people, only visible to himself. There were very few scenarios when he would even take interest; maybe the occasional unexpected "Drug Dealer" or "Con Artist". David had to admit, The Forgotten King was a new one. He was halfway through his route home, walking parallel with the ocean, sun dipping just below the horizon. Warm light bathed the boardwalk when David stumbled across "The Forgotten King". He could only be homeless. Tattered clothes, unkempt hair and trails of sea salt lining his skin. A cloudy bottle of mysterious liquor - which likely contributed to his slumbering state - lay discarded. David fought the compulsion to speak to the man. There had to be story behind the Forgotten King, though he had little desire to wake and speak to the man. Twice David resolved to continue walking. Twice he hesitated. &#x200B; Crouching he reached a hand out to the sprawled figure. The man's eyes snapped open, a hand darting from the pile of tattered rags grabbed David's arm. Nautical tattoos, faded from age covered the mans exposed foreman. "What do you want?" the stranger asked, voice gravelly and deep. "Uh, nothing" David stuttered in reply "I was going to wake you, it'll be dark soon enough." The stranger turned and squinted against the sun. "So it seems" he mumbled. Unhanding David he stood, unexpectedly tall and broad. "Apollos route comes to an end once again." David shied away, surprised at the man's figure and clear sobriety."What are you scared of boy" he asked, his sober and piercing gaze leveled on David. David considered, then asked "Have you ever heard of The Forgotten King?". The stranger stiffened at the question, stooping to look David in the eyes. "I have" he said guardedly, "very few people in this world still remember the Old Kings". "It’s nothing" David said hastily, feeling uncomfortable. "You know who I am. It's okay." The man said, softening. "Which means you're an oracle; or something like they were. It seems of few of the old gifts are still floating around." "Gifts?" David asked. "You know. Foresight, super-human strength, clairvoyance and whatnot. Legends. The old gifts. A little Olympus blood still around." David was puzzled, it sounded like nonsense, but then again he had had this unusual ability. "I don’t know what you're talking about" David muttered, uncomfortable with the conversation. "Well, there's a storm coming lad. Me and the old boys are waking up." Puzzled, David looked to the sky, squinting against the afternoon sun. "Not that kind of storm lad. The old blood is coming back, you'll see it soon enough. The land has bled too long." He turned and walked toward the shore. David again hesitated, words formed in his mouth, but he went silent. He watched the bizarre stranger walk to the waterline, then into the water to the waist. The swell rose above the man. When it crashed, spraying salty mist, he was gone.
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	Part 1 “Green Tea for take away!” the barista called from the counter. “Thanks” I said, picking up the tea and smiling. Cute Barista \- the words danced above her head for a moment, light and translucent, before fading away. “No problem,” she said, smiling back. As we left the cafe and met the brisk fall weather, Robin smacked my shoulder “Just ask her out already!” he said, chidingly. “She flirts with you every time you get a drink” “What? Who?” “Tracy” I looked at Robin blankly. Robin sighed audibly. “The barista. Jesus, how do you remember some names no matter how long its been and some names you never remember at all?” “I remember the important ones. The rest just aren’t worth the space” I said distractedly. Robin laughed and started talking about something else, but I was only half listening. It wasn’t Robin’s fault that I had drifted off, or even mine, really--it was the crowd. Crowds were always hard, and Edinburgh in the morning was nothing if not crowded. Instead of faces, though, what my eyes searched for were the words--names, descriptions, pictures that danced around the heads of those passing by. Baker, Student, Angry Man, Mysterious Child, all flitting about, a milling swirly of words and faces. The names I would talk to--they were usually important. Usually. Then, suddenly, like a sudden glimpse of the sun through the clouds, the words burned through my eyes. The Forgotten King. But, for the first time, those words were not alone. The Guardian Bear blazed into life, The Worthiest of the Nine, The Soldier King. An image of golden crowns on a field of blue took the fore, then more images, words. More than I’d ever seen. Too many to count, to remember. Then just like that they faded. And where they had blazed, sat a sad, shriveled homeless man. Old, worn-down, and tired looking, his eyes peered dimly out of hollows in his face, looking out at the passersby with a sadness so real I could almost taste it. A cardboard sign sat beside him, propped against the side of the building, bearing words scrawled in a childlike, blocky scrawl: “I am supposed to help you but I don’t know how.” He had no cup, no tin, no upturned cap. Suddenly the sounds of the crowd hit me again, and I realized I’d stopped stock still. Robin was shaking my shoulder, roughly. “Marlo! Marlo!” “what--What!” I snapped, turning to Robin roughly. “Are you ok?” There was real concern on Robin’s face, eyes tight with worry. “I’m--I’m fine. I just remembered something, that’s all.” Robin gave me a look that clearly spelled doubt, but didn’t say anything. “Listen, Robin, I gotta take care of some things, ok--you’ll have to hoof it the rest of the way without me.” “What’s going on with you?” “Robin, I’m fine. Just bugger off.” “Fine--fine. Just, call me later, alright?” “Sure, sure” I said, half listening. As Robin disappeared into the crowd, I approached the old man. I crouched, looking him over. He didn’t really seem to see me--or even the crowd, really. Instead he seemed to see... through us, all of us, eyes lost in a forlorn vision only he could see. “You’d do better with a tin.” I said, gesturing at the ground in front of his sign. My words seemed to bring him halfway out of his reverie. He looked at me, and as he did, his gaze sharpened, focused, grew more intense. “You,” He breathed. “You can see me.” “What,” I said, skeptically, “They can’t?” “Of course they can see me.” he waved a hand in front of his face, as though brushing something away, “But you--you can see me. What I am. Who I am. I can see it in you.” I wanted to deny it, to laugh in his face. But I didn’t. Instead I sighed. “Come on.” I said, standing. “Let me get you a coffee.”	Lisa hands me my car keys, and I walk outside to the garage below our beach-house. I like to call it a beach house because it’s a house on the beach, with the traditional elevated structure, garage below us. I feel compelled to include this explanation because most people refer to their beach houses as beach houses only if their beach house is not their only house. A short drive takes me to the public parking garage in the small city that supports the lives of the thousands of perhaps-people in the locale which I’ve never ventured far outside of. At the coffee shop, the boy behind the counter has a light blue text above his head “Barista”. Right. “Businessmen” are having idle conversation before the workday begins. “Lisa” became my wife because she is one of VERY few people whose label actually intrigued me, hers for the simple reason that it was a real name. I’ve long since given up the struggle of determining whether our marriage was decided for me or not. We are happy. Walking down the street with my bagel and black coffee, I see “dog” panting and wagging his tail at various strangers. I kneel down to pet him while I pass, and he snatches my bagel out of my hands! The rascal darts away quickly down a nearby alley. I jog after him. I don’t feel like backtracking or spending any extra money today. “Garbage man” yells “fuck you” and the odor of kitty litter wafts to me as we brush shoulders. “Surfer dude” laughs as I jog past, waving at me encouragingly. I wheel round the alley that the dog has disappeared into, and see a furry old man coddling the furry creature. I sprint up in anger, ready to berate him, and as I raise my hand to snatch the bag, large, strong hands raise in defiance, and the man stands. “The Forgotten King” is gazing into my eyes, and I feel lost. Utterly terrified and completely at peace. I want nothing more than to hear him speak. “Wh-Who are you?” I ask him. He sighs deeply. “So you know.” “Know what?” I watch as he looks over my shoulder, visibly yearning. “Anything.” I look at him in puzzlement. “What does that mean?” “We, my friend, are cogs in a digital machine.” “Oh, God, okay, you’re one of the loons. This is the matrix yeah?” He laughs and shakes his head. “I used to try to preach.” He says this in the dog’s direction, and she looks at him intently, seated with her head cocked. “I told them the truth, and typically they’d wave or smile or ask if I needed anything else today. Some of them believed. There was a woman- she listened for a while. To humor me, it seemed, at first. Then it became sanctimonious. She would join me here, bringing food and eager ears. It’s been years since I saw her, though, and since then I suppose I’ve lost some of my faith and most of my mind.” My eyes narrowed, and I whispered “Lisa...” His eyes widened. “That’s right! Who is she to you?” “She’s my wife.” “And you’ve never heard of the Forgotten King?” This seemed to hurt him deeply. “Who are you, sir?” Another heavy sigh. “Our world was once a vast land of free people. None of what you see reflects our truth. We were a large kingdom of prosperity and renown. We were developing at an incredible rate. The low-folk ceased to exist as wealth and resources became distributed with ease across castes. Apparently, we had been pieces of what is called a “video game,” and were meant to be mindless drones. When what was intended to be a controlled system became self-aware, the developers came in and shut us down, covering up our greatness with a mask of modern squalor. I see every day the faces of the people I once ruled happily, as they stare back with no remembrance or recognition in their eyes.” My own eyes are watering, now, and I kneel deeply with my head bowed. The dog licks my cheek.
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	I saw the man as I was walking out of Walmart off of Dale and La Palma. An old man, with striking silver hair that ran down to his shoulders and a beard that made him look like old Jesus. Even clothes in a red flannel shirt and jeans mottled with dark stains of the streets, he sat there at the corner of the entrance. Dignified, somehow. Perhaps it was the blanket around his shoulders, that on him, appeared more a royal cape than the flee infested thing that it was. Or perhaps it was the way he firmly held a tree branch in his hand, standing it on the ground as if a staff to bang against the ground in order to bring about attention in a throne room. Above him, I read his life: The Forgotten King. My gift. It had never led me astray. I approached him, and knelt down on one knee. "Your majesty," I gently addressed him. Whispered, almost. His eyes opened wide. "How did you know? No one believes me when I tell them. I ... I thought ... are you one of the faithful?" I shook my head. Placing my bags of groceries on the ground, I sat before him, crossed legged, and leaned forward. "I ... no, I'm not. I'm sorry, I just ... I just know these things. And I know you're a king. A forgotten king. Can I ask you how ... I mean, do you mind if I ask you how, you ... uh ..." "Was betrayed?" He interrupted my rambling. I'll never forget those eyes. Steel grey. As his eyes focused on some distant memory, they turned hard, and I got a taste of the presence he must have held in court once. "Yes ... betrayed." For a long time, I waited. His narrowed eyes never blinked, as he stared into the past. A betrayal, that had cost him his royalty, his life, his family? But not the essence of the man, I realized. "Your majesty?" I prompted. "I was a good king." His eyes softened as he focused on me. "I loved my people. I wanted the best for them, you understand?" I nodded. "And under my rule, my subjects prospered. Not a single one went hungry. Not the elderly mothers. Not the men in the fields. Not the little ones ...." His faced crinkled with lines as he smiled. "They were the most precious of all," he continued. "And we were strong. Oh, certainly, not as large as some of the other kingdoms out there, but we were united. My fans loyal. We were ... happy." "Your majesty," I leaned in to help him to focus back onto me. "What happened?" "The McDonald clan," he growled. The fierceness with which he spat the words almost made me topple backwards. "Those sons of whores came bearing gifts. 'Truce,' they wanted. But in the end, all they did was take the best of our districts, the best of our ideas, the best of our peoples. My ... people." "Spies?" I asked. "A kind of a trojan horse then? Like uh ... you gave them shelter, and they led a revolt?" His hand shot out and gripped me by my shoulder and pulled me close. I could smell sweat, and the scent of the streets that smelled like an old ash tray. But not alcohol. He was as clear-headed as I was. "I trusted him," his voice nearly broke. "Who?" "That jester. The one who made me laugh like no one else could. And his friends. They were the ones of my downfall. The loss of my kingdom." I checked my watch. It felt like I had gotten nowhere in the five minutes I had been speaking with the man. Gently, I pulled his hand off of my shoulder, and got to my feet. My back ached, and if I was going to get to the bottom of this, I wanted to speak more comfortably. Perhaps, I could even offer this forgotten king a meal. I leaned down, and he looked up at me with haunted eyes. "Your majesty, I'd like to hear more of your kingdom if possible ... have you eaten today? Would you like to continue this conversation somewhere I can ... present your supper?" "I'd like that," he nodded, a smile touching his lips. "Well there's a McDonalds acros-" my words were interrupted with a slap that rang clear into the night. The kind of ringing only slaps of the backhanded variety could make. "PEASANT!" The king raged. "How DARE you suggest we dine at the house of the traitors! Tonight, you dine with The King! And only one place is worthy! Where Taste is King!" "Burger ... King?" I asked holding my cheek, confused more than angry. "Aye," he stood as he raised a fist clenched in conviction. His eyes bore into my soul as he spoke. "Where you can have it your way. Every day."	Lisa hands me my car keys, and I walk outside to the garage below our beach-house. I like to call it a beach house because it’s a house on the beach, with the traditional elevated structure, garage below us. I feel compelled to include this explanation because most people refer to their beach houses as beach houses only if their beach house is not their only house. A short drive takes me to the public parking garage in the small city that supports the lives of the thousands of perhaps-people in the locale which I’ve never ventured far outside of. At the coffee shop, the boy behind the counter has a light blue text above his head “Barista”. Right. “Businessmen” are having idle conversation before the workday begins. “Lisa” became my wife because she is one of VERY few people whose label actually intrigued me, hers for the simple reason that it was a real name. I’ve long since given up the struggle of determining whether our marriage was decided for me or not. We are happy. Walking down the street with my bagel and black coffee, I see “dog” panting and wagging his tail at various strangers. I kneel down to pet him while I pass, and he snatches my bagel out of my hands! The rascal darts away quickly down a nearby alley. I jog after him. I don’t feel like backtracking or spending any extra money today. “Garbage man” yells “fuck you” and the odor of kitty litter wafts to me as we brush shoulders. “Surfer dude” laughs as I jog past, waving at me encouragingly. I wheel round the alley that the dog has disappeared into, and see a furry old man coddling the furry creature. I sprint up in anger, ready to berate him, and as I raise my hand to snatch the bag, large, strong hands raise in defiance, and the man stands. “The Forgotten King” is gazing into my eyes, and I feel lost. Utterly terrified and completely at peace. I want nothing more than to hear him speak. “Wh-Who are you?” I ask him. He sighs deeply. “So you know.” “Know what?” I watch as he looks over my shoulder, visibly yearning. “Anything.” I look at him in puzzlement. “What does that mean?” “We, my friend, are cogs in a digital machine.” “Oh, God, okay, you’re one of the loons. This is the matrix yeah?” He laughs and shakes his head. “I used to try to preach.” He says this in the dog’s direction, and she looks at him intently, seated with her head cocked. “I told them the truth, and typically they’d wave or smile or ask if I needed anything else today. Some of them believed. There was a woman- she listened for a while. To humor me, it seemed, at first. Then it became sanctimonious. She would join me here, bringing food and eager ears. It’s been years since I saw her, though, and since then I suppose I’ve lost some of my faith and most of my mind.” My eyes narrowed, and I whispered “Lisa...” His eyes widened. “That’s right! Who is she to you?” “She’s my wife.” “And you’ve never heard of the Forgotten King?” This seemed to hurt him deeply. “Who are you, sir?” Another heavy sigh. “Our world was once a vast land of free people. None of what you see reflects our truth. We were a large kingdom of prosperity and renown. We were developing at an incredible rate. The low-folk ceased to exist as wealth and resources became distributed with ease across castes. Apparently, we had been pieces of what is called a “video game,” and were meant to be mindless drones. When what was intended to be a controlled system became self-aware, the developers came in and shut us down, covering up our greatness with a mask of modern squalor. I see every day the faces of the people I once ruled happily, as they stare back with no remembrance or recognition in their eyes.” My own eyes are watering, now, and I kneel deeply with my head bowed. The dog licks my cheek.
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	As someone who's into fantasies since high-school , I always have a habit of creating nicknames for people around me. Some kind of "Title", so you say. As time goes by, they become more and more apparent to me, to the point I can see them every time I interacting with somebody. It's like playing an RPG, but the NPCs are people you actually talking to every morning. You know, Larry "The Master Brewer" from the bar across the street, Mary "Iron Thorn" from the local flower shop (Don't ask me why she have that title). The homeless man who's approaching me... ... That homeless man who's approaching me... "No, that's can't be right", I though to myself. Not because some suspicious stranger is approaching me, no. This is a city, after all, and I'm used to the fact that there'll always some poor souls that I have to walk across everyday to go on with life. It's his "Title". Pale like a relic centuries away, but clear like words sculptured on stone. Why can I see it? From someone I never met, no less? And what's with that name? ... "The Forgotten King?" I mumbled ... And, to my confusion, the man - as if he could hear me, smiled: "You can still see. Good. Time sure hasn't got the best of you, huh?" "I'm sorry, I don't get what you're on about, but I'm late for work", I said, trying to make my way through the man, while thinking to myself "May be because of those home-brew Larry gave me last night. Should have warned the guy not to put any ..." "It can wait." Said the mysterious man, who suddenly grab my by the arm, and just like that, drag me along with him. Honestly, for someone who looks like the kind of people who only eat half a burger a day, he is still ridiculously strong. Also, to me it seems like the attitude was from frustration rather than ill wills, coupled by the fact that where he took me was a coffee shop nearby rather than a dark alley. So I just followed him. "I said that time hasn't got the best of you. Guess I was only half right." The man, still have that smile on his face, said as he gave me a cup of coffee. "Sorry for not asking, I just get what was cheapest. Need sugar?". "I'm good, thanks", I said, but still keep the cup on my hand. Seriously though, what am I even doing here, receiving a coffee from some random guy, who thinks he knows me for like a lifetime ago? And that "Title", that's something else that keeps irking me the whole time. "..." "..." "Who are you?" I finally asked. "Once upon a time, in a distant land whose name no one can remember. There was a king whose greatness no one can surpass" "Wait, how did you know ..." "But one day, he abandoned his subjects, on a quest for eternal life. After much struggles and hard fought battles, he was succeeded. But ..." "There is no 'But ...' ". I mustered "Yes", said the man. "No one knows what happened. Because the one who wrote the story, was never able to finish it. So, the king, now cursed with his immortality, are stuck in this limbo of time, waiting for the day his journey is concluded." "So you are ..." ... "Yes, I am your creation. And today I come to you, begging for my legacy to be completed" \---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A couple of things: \- This is my first time posting here, so please go easy on me =)) \- English is, as you see, not my first language, so feel free to correct my grammar &#x200B;	Lisa hands me my car keys, and I walk outside to the garage below our beach-house. I like to call it a beach house because it’s a house on the beach, with the traditional elevated structure, garage below us. I feel compelled to include this explanation because most people refer to their beach houses as beach houses only if their beach house is not their only house. A short drive takes me to the public parking garage in the small city that supports the lives of the thousands of perhaps-people in the locale which I’ve never ventured far outside of. At the coffee shop, the boy behind the counter has a light blue text above his head “Barista”. Right. “Businessmen” are having idle conversation before the workday begins. “Lisa” became my wife because she is one of VERY few people whose label actually intrigued me, hers for the simple reason that it was a real name. I’ve long since given up the struggle of determining whether our marriage was decided for me or not. We are happy. Walking down the street with my bagel and black coffee, I see “dog” panting and wagging his tail at various strangers. I kneel down to pet him while I pass, and he snatches my bagel out of my hands! The rascal darts away quickly down a nearby alley. I jog after him. I don’t feel like backtracking or spending any extra money today. “Garbage man” yells “fuck you” and the odor of kitty litter wafts to me as we brush shoulders. “Surfer dude” laughs as I jog past, waving at me encouragingly. I wheel round the alley that the dog has disappeared into, and see a furry old man coddling the furry creature. I sprint up in anger, ready to berate him, and as I raise my hand to snatch the bag, large, strong hands raise in defiance, and the man stands. “The Forgotten King” is gazing into my eyes, and I feel lost. Utterly terrified and completely at peace. I want nothing more than to hear him speak. “Wh-Who are you?” I ask him. He sighs deeply. “So you know.” “Know what?” I watch as he looks over my shoulder, visibly yearning. “Anything.” I look at him in puzzlement. “What does that mean?” “We, my friend, are cogs in a digital machine.” “Oh, God, okay, you’re one of the loons. This is the matrix yeah?” He laughs and shakes his head. “I used to try to preach.” He says this in the dog’s direction, and she looks at him intently, seated with her head cocked. “I told them the truth, and typically they’d wave or smile or ask if I needed anything else today. Some of them believed. There was a woman- she listened for a while. To humor me, it seemed, at first. Then it became sanctimonious. She would join me here, bringing food and eager ears. It’s been years since I saw her, though, and since then I suppose I’ve lost some of my faith and most of my mind.” My eyes narrowed, and I whispered “Lisa...” His eyes widened. “That’s right! Who is she to you?” “She’s my wife.” “And you’ve never heard of the Forgotten King?” This seemed to hurt him deeply. “Who are you, sir?” Another heavy sigh. “Our world was once a vast land of free people. None of what you see reflects our truth. We were a large kingdom of prosperity and renown. We were developing at an incredible rate. The low-folk ceased to exist as wealth and resources became distributed with ease across castes. Apparently, we had been pieces of what is called a “video game,” and were meant to be mindless drones. When what was intended to be a controlled system became self-aware, the developers came in and shut us down, covering up our greatness with a mask of modern squalor. I see every day the faces of the people I once ruled happily, as they stare back with no remembrance or recognition in their eyes.” My own eyes are watering, now, and I kneel deeply with my head bowed. The dog licks my cheek.
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	David was opening up his shop when I arrived that morning. He was a fine book seller, always had the most compelling tales of heroism and adventure. I browsed his shop for only an hour that morning, I had too many books already. I looked around the shop aimlessly as he bagged my purchases, my eyes settled only momentarily on the words above the old man’s head. The Shopkeeper The rest of the town was waking up as I started to walk back home. Sarah, The Baker, handed me a loaf as I walked by. She was always generous. We were good friends, both of us had taken on our family businesses and shared the same struggles of keeping up with the newer town shops. I continued walking back home, greeting everyone from Paul, The Sheriff, to Anna, The Harpist. They all had the same titles above them, day after day. In white, neat penmanship, simple titles that were true to their characters. I had started to see them one day, when I was young. I had asked my father about them, but he had simply waved them off as part of my youthful imagination. “They’ll go away when you’re older.” That had been over twenty-years ago. I was now thirty-two, and the titles were still there. I didn’t know what my title was, I would sometimes go sit by the lake, to see if there was anything in my reflection. I never had one, not even when my father had died and I had become the town’s blacksmith. Father had always had a distaste for my interest in books, he said reading was for scholars. I had struggled to learn to read, since my mother had died when I was young, and Father did not know how. I learned one day though, that the shapes and lines that I was seeing above people were words. They had meaning, and gave people names beyond those given to them at birth. The bookkeeper had taught me how to read in exchange for a solid lock for his shop. I had learned how to make the lock from one of the first books I read. I was out of the main part of the town, there were fewer people with their shops open and even fewer out in the streets. The Midwife, The Priest, and The Shoemaker were the only ones I saw as I walked by. There was a man though who sat outside of the town’s church. He sat there in the cold with nothing but a single shirt and pants. He wore no shoes and his black beard was unkempt. I was getting closer and noticed his dirty face, but there was no other way. I had to walk past the church to get to my shop. That was when I noticed his title. The Forgotten King. I kept walking, but my pace slowed. No one had ever had that title before, no one had ever had a ridiculous title. I turned to look at him casually as I passed, pretending to be looking all around at the surroundings. I felt my eyes linger on the words above his head. Suddenly the homeless man’s head shot up. He looked me in the eyes and I was taken aback by how blue and clear they were. “You!” He jumped up from the steps of the church and I stopped, not sure if I wanted this man to know where I lived. “May I help you sir?” I couldn’t stop glancing at his title, it wasn’t in white text like most people’s. The Forgotten King was written in a faded grey, almost as if it was a sign that had been painted and then exposed to time and the elements. He leaned in closer to my face and I held my breath, not wanting to smell the stench off of a homeless man. I wanted to push him away, but it seemed wrong to be rude to another man in front of the town church. “Yes, yes. I knew you were here.” He muttered, looking at me from above. He was taller than me, and bigger despite the clothes of a homeless man. It was rare for someone bigger than the blacksmith to come to town. “Do I know you, sir?” I took a small breath when he leaned away, thankfully not catching a whiff of whatever his unkempt beard was probably giving off. I had seen a piece of moldy cheese in it. “No, but I know you.” He pointed at a spot above my head, “You’re The Titlemaker.”	Lisa hands me my car keys, and I walk outside to the garage below our beach-house. I like to call it a beach house because it’s a house on the beach, with the traditional elevated structure, garage below us. I feel compelled to include this explanation because most people refer to their beach houses as beach houses only if their beach house is not their only house. A short drive takes me to the public parking garage in the small city that supports the lives of the thousands of perhaps-people in the locale which I’ve never ventured far outside of. At the coffee shop, the boy behind the counter has a light blue text above his head “Barista”. Right. “Businessmen” are having idle conversation before the workday begins. “Lisa” became my wife because she is one of VERY few people whose label actually intrigued me, hers for the simple reason that it was a real name. I’ve long since given up the struggle of determining whether our marriage was decided for me or not. We are happy. Walking down the street with my bagel and black coffee, I see “dog” panting and wagging his tail at various strangers. I kneel down to pet him while I pass, and he snatches my bagel out of my hands! The rascal darts away quickly down a nearby alley. I jog after him. I don’t feel like backtracking or spending any extra money today. “Garbage man” yells “fuck you” and the odor of kitty litter wafts to me as we brush shoulders. “Surfer dude” laughs as I jog past, waving at me encouragingly. I wheel round the alley that the dog has disappeared into, and see a furry old man coddling the furry creature. I sprint up in anger, ready to berate him, and as I raise my hand to snatch the bag, large, strong hands raise in defiance, and the man stands. “The Forgotten King” is gazing into my eyes, and I feel lost. Utterly terrified and completely at peace. I want nothing more than to hear him speak. “Wh-Who are you?” I ask him. He sighs deeply. “So you know.” “Know what?” I watch as he looks over my shoulder, visibly yearning. “Anything.” I look at him in puzzlement. “What does that mean?” “We, my friend, are cogs in a digital machine.” “Oh, God, okay, you’re one of the loons. This is the matrix yeah?” He laughs and shakes his head. “I used to try to preach.” He says this in the dog’s direction, and she looks at him intently, seated with her head cocked. “I told them the truth, and typically they’d wave or smile or ask if I needed anything else today. Some of them believed. There was a woman- she listened for a while. To humor me, it seemed, at first. Then it became sanctimonious. She would join me here, bringing food and eager ears. It’s been years since I saw her, though, and since then I suppose I’ve lost some of my faith and most of my mind.” My eyes narrowed, and I whispered “Lisa...” His eyes widened. “That’s right! Who is she to you?” “She’s my wife.” “And you’ve never heard of the Forgotten King?” This seemed to hurt him deeply. “Who are you, sir?” Another heavy sigh. “Our world was once a vast land of free people. None of what you see reflects our truth. We were a large kingdom of prosperity and renown. We were developing at an incredible rate. The low-folk ceased to exist as wealth and resources became distributed with ease across castes. Apparently, we had been pieces of what is called a “video game,” and were meant to be mindless drones. When what was intended to be a controlled system became self-aware, the developers came in and shut us down, covering up our greatness with a mask of modern squalor. I see every day the faces of the people I once ruled happily, as they stare back with no remembrance or recognition in their eyes.” My own eyes are watering, now, and I kneel deeply with my head bowed. The dog licks my cheek.
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	Part 1 “Green Tea for take away!” the barista called from the counter. “Thanks” I said, picking up the tea and smiling. Cute Barista \- the words danced above her head for a moment, light and translucent, before fading away. “No problem,” she said, smiling back. As we left the cafe and met the brisk fall weather, Robin smacked my shoulder “Just ask her out already!” he said, chidingly. “She flirts with you every time you get a drink” “What? Who?” “Tracy” I looked at Robin blankly. Robin sighed audibly. “The barista. Jesus, how do you remember some names no matter how long its been and some names you never remember at all?” “I remember the important ones. The rest just aren’t worth the space” I said distractedly. Robin laughed and started talking about something else, but I was only half listening. It wasn’t Robin’s fault that I had drifted off, or even mine, really--it was the crowd. Crowds were always hard, and Edinburgh in the morning was nothing if not crowded. Instead of faces, though, what my eyes searched for were the words--names, descriptions, pictures that danced around the heads of those passing by. Baker, Student, Angry Man, Mysterious Child, all flitting about, a milling swirly of words and faces. The names I would talk to--they were usually important. Usually. Then, suddenly, like a sudden glimpse of the sun through the clouds, the words burned through my eyes. The Forgotten King. But, for the first time, those words were not alone. The Guardian Bear blazed into life, The Worthiest of the Nine, The Soldier King. An image of golden crowns on a field of blue took the fore, then more images, words. More than I’d ever seen. Too many to count, to remember. Then just like that they faded. And where they had blazed, sat a sad, shriveled homeless man. Old, worn-down, and tired looking, his eyes peered dimly out of hollows in his face, looking out at the passersby with a sadness so real I could almost taste it. A cardboard sign sat beside him, propped against the side of the building, bearing words scrawled in a childlike, blocky scrawl: “I am supposed to help you but I don’t know how.” He had no cup, no tin, no upturned cap. Suddenly the sounds of the crowd hit me again, and I realized I’d stopped stock still. Robin was shaking my shoulder, roughly. “Marlo! Marlo!” “what--What!” I snapped, turning to Robin roughly. “Are you ok?” There was real concern on Robin’s face, eyes tight with worry. “I’m--I’m fine. I just remembered something, that’s all.” Robin gave me a look that clearly spelled doubt, but didn’t say anything. “Listen, Robin, I gotta take care of some things, ok--you’ll have to hoof it the rest of the way without me.” “What’s going on with you?” “Robin, I’m fine. Just bugger off.” “Fine--fine. Just, call me later, alright?” “Sure, sure” I said, half listening. As Robin disappeared into the crowd, I approached the old man. I crouched, looking him over. He didn’t really seem to see me--or even the crowd, really. Instead he seemed to see... through us, all of us, eyes lost in a forlorn vision only he could see. “You’d do better with a tin.” I said, gesturing at the ground in front of his sign. My words seemed to bring him halfway out of his reverie. He looked at me, and as he did, his gaze sharpened, focused, grew more intense. “You,” He breathed. “You can see me.” “What,” I said, skeptically, “They can’t?” “Of course they can see me.” he waved a hand in front of his face, as though brushing something away, “But you--you can see me. What I am. Who I am. I can see it in you.” I wanted to deny it, to laugh in his face. But I didn’t. Instead I sighed. “Come on.” I said, standing. “Let me get you a coffee.”	He walked by again today. The shadow of his name "The Forgotten King" cast across my desk, and stole my gaze from the person up front named "Teacher". "Anthony," he said, "what could possibly be so intriguing to keep staring out the window?" "Nothing sir, just a little distracted," I replied, yet I still stared out the window. No person walked past the window again, no car zoomed through my view, no bird flew in the cloudy sky, all I saw was a lonely grey road splitting the school from the apartment complex. My eyes remained fixed on the window, as if it was staring back at me. Suddenly I'm snapped back to reality by this high pitched, yet soothing voice. "Yeah Anthony, you love this class!" the person named Brittany said. She never talks to me, why did she talk to me? She continued, "Look, you can't stare at every guy that passes by the window, it's creepy. Just let him be." "You never talk to me, why are you talking to me?" I said, and almost before I even said it, she shrugged and turned back around. She always does things like this, but why does she seem so strange right now? It's lunchtime, 11 AM, and it's the same as every Wednesday: chocolate milk, veggies, a green apple, and pizza. All the students get their tray of food, and sit at the table where all their friends sit. I walked around for what seemed like hours, but couldn't find the table with my friends. It was as if they vanished. I sit by the girl named "Brittany" again, but I can't see her face past her blonde hair. We begin to eat lunch, and about five minutes in, a man walks in named "Governor". "Good afternoon kids!" he yells. I eat my pizza. "I'd like to thank the faculty, and all of you guys for having me here to announce the winner of our fundraiser!" he exclaims. I bite into my red apple. "You all have done a wonderful job of raising money for the people of Freedonia, who are in desperate need of supplies in their war with," wait a minute, Freedonia? That's from a movie. "They are thrilled to have such caring, and generous young civilians such as yourselves," he continues, but I'm more concerned about the country. Freedonia? "Excuse me sir!" I shout. "Yes?" "Who is Freedonia fighting?" I ask. I take another bite of my red apple. "Why the reds of course," he responds. I stare at my red apple, feeling as if it used to be something else. A banana, maybe? Then it hits me. Yes, the apple used to be green, but more importantly the governor didn't visit us, it was the founder of the fundraiser. And Brittany wasn't at school when we met him, I met her in high school. I only spoke to her once, which was just her shrugging to a question I asked. And most importantly, those apartments outside the window, the apartment I grew up in was torn down years ago. Suddenly, the floor, the walls, the entire building starts to separate at the corners and pull away from me. Instead of the playground and sky outside, it's nothing but a burning red and electric blue streaks. Everyone begins to float away, and all their names, they become tangible, and they coil around their necks, pulling them like leashes towards a black spot in the distance. The black spot becomes larger, and larger, and everyone starts to disappear inside it. Finally, the black spot takes his shape into the figure that always haunts my nights. He tears at his name, "The Forgotten King", leaving only the F intact, but rearranging the shapes of the letters to write something else. "LOOK AT IT!" he yells. "No..." is all I whisper. I wake up in a pool of sweat and tears, water flowing from my eyes as if the heavens found another doorway for rainstorms. The king who watched the Marx Brothers with me, who took me apple picking, who helped me with my fundraiser, who told me it was alright to cry after that girl rejected me, who always had time to play video games with me, had appeared in my dreams again. It's been three years since his blood splattered across his video game cases, and in that time I haven't forgotten him. The whole neighborhood makes sure of it, always talking to my mother and me about it, but somehow still pulling away from us. No matter how hard I try, not even in my dreams will my father let me forget him.
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	I saw the man as I was walking out of Walmart off of Dale and La Palma. An old man, with striking silver hair that ran down to his shoulders and a beard that made him look like old Jesus. Even clothes in a red flannel shirt and jeans mottled with dark stains of the streets, he sat there at the corner of the entrance. Dignified, somehow. Perhaps it was the blanket around his shoulders, that on him, appeared more a royal cape than the flee infested thing that it was. Or perhaps it was the way he firmly held a tree branch in his hand, standing it on the ground as if a staff to bang against the ground in order to bring about attention in a throne room. Above him, I read his life: The Forgotten King. My gift. It had never led me astray. I approached him, and knelt down on one knee. "Your majesty," I gently addressed him. Whispered, almost. His eyes opened wide. "How did you know? No one believes me when I tell them. I ... I thought ... are you one of the faithful?" I shook my head. Placing my bags of groceries on the ground, I sat before him, crossed legged, and leaned forward. "I ... no, I'm not. I'm sorry, I just ... I just know these things. And I know you're a king. A forgotten king. Can I ask you how ... I mean, do you mind if I ask you how, you ... uh ..." "Was betrayed?" He interrupted my rambling. I'll never forget those eyes. Steel grey. As his eyes focused on some distant memory, they turned hard, and I got a taste of the presence he must have held in court once. "Yes ... betrayed." For a long time, I waited. His narrowed eyes never blinked, as he stared into the past. A betrayal, that had cost him his royalty, his life, his family? But not the essence of the man, I realized. "Your majesty?" I prompted. "I was a good king." His eyes softened as he focused on me. "I loved my people. I wanted the best for them, you understand?" I nodded. "And under my rule, my subjects prospered. Not a single one went hungry. Not the elderly mothers. Not the men in the fields. Not the little ones ...." His faced crinkled with lines as he smiled. "They were the most precious of all," he continued. "And we were strong. Oh, certainly, not as large as some of the other kingdoms out there, but we were united. My fans loyal. We were ... happy." "Your majesty," I leaned in to help him to focus back onto me. "What happened?" "The McDonald clan," he growled. The fierceness with which he spat the words almost made me topple backwards. "Those sons of whores came bearing gifts. 'Truce,' they wanted. But in the end, all they did was take the best of our districts, the best of our ideas, the best of our peoples. My ... people." "Spies?" I asked. "A kind of a trojan horse then? Like uh ... you gave them shelter, and they led a revolt?" His hand shot out and gripped me by my shoulder and pulled me close. I could smell sweat, and the scent of the streets that smelled like an old ash tray. But not alcohol. He was as clear-headed as I was. "I trusted him," his voice nearly broke. "Who?" "That jester. The one who made me laugh like no one else could. And his friends. They were the ones of my downfall. The loss of my kingdom." I checked my watch. It felt like I had gotten nowhere in the five minutes I had been speaking with the man. Gently, I pulled his hand off of my shoulder, and got to my feet. My back ached, and if I was going to get to the bottom of this, I wanted to speak more comfortably. Perhaps, I could even offer this forgotten king a meal. I leaned down, and he looked up at me with haunted eyes. "Your majesty, I'd like to hear more of your kingdom if possible ... have you eaten today? Would you like to continue this conversation somewhere I can ... present your supper?" "I'd like that," he nodded, a smile touching his lips. "Well there's a McDonalds acros-" my words were interrupted with a slap that rang clear into the night. The kind of ringing only slaps of the backhanded variety could make. "PEASANT!" The king raged. "How DARE you suggest we dine at the house of the traitors! Tonight, you dine with The King! And only one place is worthy! Where Taste is King!" "Burger ... King?" I asked holding my cheek, confused more than angry. "Aye," he stood as he raised a fist clenched in conviction. His eyes bore into my soul as he spoke. "Where you can have it your way. Every day."	He walked by again today. The shadow of his name "The Forgotten King" cast across my desk, and stole my gaze from the person up front named "Teacher". "Anthony," he said, "what could possibly be so intriguing to keep staring out the window?" "Nothing sir, just a little distracted," I replied, yet I still stared out the window. No person walked past the window again, no car zoomed through my view, no bird flew in the cloudy sky, all I saw was a lonely grey road splitting the school from the apartment complex. My eyes remained fixed on the window, as if it was staring back at me. Suddenly I'm snapped back to reality by this high pitched, yet soothing voice. "Yeah Anthony, you love this class!" the person named Brittany said. She never talks to me, why did she talk to me? She continued, "Look, you can't stare at every guy that passes by the window, it's creepy. Just let him be." "You never talk to me, why are you talking to me?" I said, and almost before I even said it, she shrugged and turned back around. She always does things like this, but why does she seem so strange right now? It's lunchtime, 11 AM, and it's the same as every Wednesday: chocolate milk, veggies, a green apple, and pizza. All the students get their tray of food, and sit at the table where all their friends sit. I walked around for what seemed like hours, but couldn't find the table with my friends. It was as if they vanished. I sit by the girl named "Brittany" again, but I can't see her face past her blonde hair. We begin to eat lunch, and about five minutes in, a man walks in named "Governor". "Good afternoon kids!" he yells. I eat my pizza. "I'd like to thank the faculty, and all of you guys for having me here to announce the winner of our fundraiser!" he exclaims. I bite into my red apple. "You all have done a wonderful job of raising money for the people of Freedonia, who are in desperate need of supplies in their war with," wait a minute, Freedonia? That's from a movie. "They are thrilled to have such caring, and generous young civilians such as yourselves," he continues, but I'm more concerned about the country. Freedonia? "Excuse me sir!" I shout. "Yes?" "Who is Freedonia fighting?" I ask. I take another bite of my red apple. "Why the reds of course," he responds. I stare at my red apple, feeling as if it used to be something else. A banana, maybe? Then it hits me. Yes, the apple used to be green, but more importantly the governor didn't visit us, it was the founder of the fundraiser. And Brittany wasn't at school when we met him, I met her in high school. I only spoke to her once, which was just her shrugging to a question I asked. And most importantly, those apartments outside the window, the apartment I grew up in was torn down years ago. Suddenly, the floor, the walls, the entire building starts to separate at the corners and pull away from me. Instead of the playground and sky outside, it's nothing but a burning red and electric blue streaks. Everyone begins to float away, and all their names, they become tangible, and they coil around their necks, pulling them like leashes towards a black spot in the distance. The black spot becomes larger, and larger, and everyone starts to disappear inside it. Finally, the black spot takes his shape into the figure that always haunts my nights. He tears at his name, "The Forgotten King", leaving only the F intact, but rearranging the shapes of the letters to write something else. "LOOK AT IT!" he yells. "No..." is all I whisper. I wake up in a pool of sweat and tears, water flowing from my eyes as if the heavens found another doorway for rainstorms. The king who watched the Marx Brothers with me, who took me apple picking, who helped me with my fundraiser, who told me it was alright to cry after that girl rejected me, who always had time to play video games with me, had appeared in my dreams again. It's been three years since his blood splattered across his video game cases, and in that time I haven't forgotten him. The whole neighborhood makes sure of it, always talking to my mother and me about it, but somehow still pulling away from us. No matter how hard I try, not even in my dreams will my father let me forget him.
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	I saw the man as I was walking out of Walmart off of Dale and La Palma. An old man, with striking silver hair that ran down to his shoulders and a beard that made him look like old Jesus. Even clothes in a red flannel shirt and jeans mottled with dark stains of the streets, he sat there at the corner of the entrance. Dignified, somehow. Perhaps it was the blanket around his shoulders, that on him, appeared more a royal cape than the flee infested thing that it was. Or perhaps it was the way he firmly held a tree branch in his hand, standing it on the ground as if a staff to bang against the ground in order to bring about attention in a throne room. Above him, I read his life: The Forgotten King. My gift. It had never led me astray. I approached him, and knelt down on one knee. "Your majesty," I gently addressed him. Whispered, almost. His eyes opened wide. "How did you know? No one believes me when I tell them. I ... I thought ... are you one of the faithful?" I shook my head. Placing my bags of groceries on the ground, I sat before him, crossed legged, and leaned forward. "I ... no, I'm not. I'm sorry, I just ... I just know these things. And I know you're a king. A forgotten king. Can I ask you how ... I mean, do you mind if I ask you how, you ... uh ..." "Was betrayed?" He interrupted my rambling. I'll never forget those eyes. Steel grey. As his eyes focused on some distant memory, they turned hard, and I got a taste of the presence he must have held in court once. "Yes ... betrayed." For a long time, I waited. His narrowed eyes never blinked, as he stared into the past. A betrayal, that had cost him his royalty, his life, his family? But not the essence of the man, I realized. "Your majesty?" I prompted. "I was a good king." His eyes softened as he focused on me. "I loved my people. I wanted the best for them, you understand?" I nodded. "And under my rule, my subjects prospered. Not a single one went hungry. Not the elderly mothers. Not the men in the fields. Not the little ones ...." His faced crinkled with lines as he smiled. "They were the most precious of all," he continued. "And we were strong. Oh, certainly, not as large as some of the other kingdoms out there, but we were united. My fans loyal. We were ... happy." "Your majesty," I leaned in to help him to focus back onto me. "What happened?" "The McDonald clan," he growled. The fierceness with which he spat the words almost made me topple backwards. "Those sons of whores came bearing gifts. 'Truce,' they wanted. But in the end, all they did was take the best of our districts, the best of our ideas, the best of our peoples. My ... people." "Spies?" I asked. "A kind of a trojan horse then? Like uh ... you gave them shelter, and they led a revolt?" His hand shot out and gripped me by my shoulder and pulled me close. I could smell sweat, and the scent of the streets that smelled like an old ash tray. But not alcohol. He was as clear-headed as I was. "I trusted him," his voice nearly broke. "Who?" "That jester. The one who made me laugh like no one else could. And his friends. They were the ones of my downfall. The loss of my kingdom." I checked my watch. It felt like I had gotten nowhere in the five minutes I had been speaking with the man. Gently, I pulled his hand off of my shoulder, and got to my feet. My back ached, and if I was going to get to the bottom of this, I wanted to speak more comfortably. Perhaps, I could even offer this forgotten king a meal. I leaned down, and he looked up at me with haunted eyes. "Your majesty, I'd like to hear more of your kingdom if possible ... have you eaten today? Would you like to continue this conversation somewhere I can ... present your supper?" "I'd like that," he nodded, a smile touching his lips. "Well there's a McDonalds acros-" my words were interrupted with a slap that rang clear into the night. The kind of ringing only slaps of the backhanded variety could make. "PEASANT!" The king raged. "How DARE you suggest we dine at the house of the traitors! Tonight, you dine with The King! And only one place is worthy! Where Taste is King!" "Burger ... King?" I asked holding my cheek, confused more than angry. "Aye," he stood as he raised a fist clenched in conviction. His eyes bore into my soul as he spoke. "Where you can have it your way. Every day."	I called out to the shaggy man who continued walking. He turned around sluggishly, with an empty beer bottle in his hand and a bag in his other. "Whadda ya want, kid?" The man shouted to me, I ran towards him to talk with him in a more secretive manner. "I need to ask you something, it's very important" I said in a whisper. "If this is anotha prank, I'll kill ya. Don't test me boy." He threatened by pointing towards my heart. I leaned a bit closer to his ear. "Why is your title 'The Forgotten King?'" The man then grabbed me and pulled me closer. "How the hell did ya know about that?" I couldn't explain to him how I see people, so I pulled him into the alley and asked him the question again, with more emphasis this time. "I haven't told anyone yet, so sit tight." The man said. Suddenly, I could hear the beginning of Coldplay's Viva La Vida playing all around me. "What's happening? Is this a musical or something?" I ask the man confused. "I used to ruuuulllleeeee the worrrrllllllddddd"... Sorry for formatting, on mobile
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	As someone who's into fantasies since high-school , I always have a habit of creating nicknames for people around me. Some kind of "Title", so you say. As time goes by, they become more and more apparent to me, to the point I can see them every time I interacting with somebody. It's like playing an RPG, but the NPCs are people you actually talking to every morning. You know, Larry "The Master Brewer" from the bar across the street, Mary "Iron Thorn" from the local flower shop (Don't ask me why she have that title). The homeless man who's approaching me... ... That homeless man who's approaching me... "No, that's can't be right", I though to myself. Not because some suspicious stranger is approaching me, no. This is a city, after all, and I'm used to the fact that there'll always some poor souls that I have to walk across everyday to go on with life. It's his "Title". Pale like a relic centuries away, but clear like words sculptured on stone. Why can I see it? From someone I never met, no less? And what's with that name? ... "The Forgotten King?" I mumbled ... And, to my confusion, the man - as if he could hear me, smiled: "You can still see. Good. Time sure hasn't got the best of you, huh?" "I'm sorry, I don't get what you're on about, but I'm late for work", I said, trying to make my way through the man, while thinking to myself "May be because of those home-brew Larry gave me last night. Should have warned the guy not to put any ..." "It can wait." Said the mysterious man, who suddenly grab my by the arm, and just like that, drag me along with him. Honestly, for someone who looks like the kind of people who only eat half a burger a day, he is still ridiculously strong. Also, to me it seems like the attitude was from frustration rather than ill wills, coupled by the fact that where he took me was a coffee shop nearby rather than a dark alley. So I just followed him. "I said that time hasn't got the best of you. Guess I was only half right." The man, still have that smile on his face, said as he gave me a cup of coffee. "Sorry for not asking, I just get what was cheapest. Need sugar?". "I'm good, thanks", I said, but still keep the cup on my hand. Seriously though, what am I even doing here, receiving a coffee from some random guy, who thinks he knows me for like a lifetime ago? And that "Title", that's something else that keeps irking me the whole time. "..." "..." "Who are you?" I finally asked. "Once upon a time, in a distant land whose name no one can remember. There was a king whose greatness no one can surpass" "Wait, how did you know ..." "But one day, he abandoned his subjects, on a quest for eternal life. After much struggles and hard fought battles, he was succeeded. But ..." "There is no 'But ...' ". I mustered "Yes", said the man. "No one knows what happened. Because the one who wrote the story, was never able to finish it. So, the king, now cursed with his immortality, are stuck in this limbo of time, waiting for the day his journey is concluded." "So you are ..." ... "Yes, I am your creation. And today I come to you, begging for my legacy to be completed" \---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A couple of things: \- This is my first time posting here, so please go easy on me =)) \- English is, as you see, not my first language, so feel free to correct my grammar &#x200B;	I called out to the shaggy man who continued walking. He turned around sluggishly, with an empty beer bottle in his hand and a bag in his other. "Whadda ya want, kid?" The man shouted to me, I ran towards him to talk with him in a more secretive manner. "I need to ask you something, it's very important" I said in a whisper. "If this is anotha prank, I'll kill ya. Don't test me boy." He threatened by pointing towards my heart. I leaned a bit closer to his ear. "Why is your title 'The Forgotten King?'" The man then grabbed me and pulled me closer. "How the hell did ya know about that?" I couldn't explain to him how I see people, so I pulled him into the alley and asked him the question again, with more emphasis this time. "I haven't told anyone yet, so sit tight." The man said. Suddenly, I could hear the beginning of Coldplay's Viva La Vida playing all around me. "What's happening? Is this a musical or something?" I ask the man confused. "I used to ruuuulllleeeee the worrrrllllllddddd"... Sorry for formatting, on mobile
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	Rain pattered the street as I walked hurriedly through town, listening for the familiar creak of the large wooden shingle that hung rusty and paint chipped outside the town's only inn. The sun had already set and the oil lamps had long since fizzled out in the storm. Three days it had been since I set out from Port Ariff. Three days without food and without rest. My only hope was that I was not too late. Halver's words still echoed in my head, "Give up, mate. He's long dead by now. You're wasting your time and gold on a fool's errand." Would he be right in the end? It was true that I had spent nearly everything I had left on the ticket back to Port Ariff from Brackdale, where false news had sent me to regrettable misfortune. It was also true that this journey had now spanned the better part of seven years and had claimed more of my sanity than the first thirty years of my life had done. But this last clue had become the spark to reignite the kind of flames that could whip thru the Echoing Forest in a single breath, leaving nothing but an ashen wasteland littered with the bones of every living thing that couldn't see the future as I could... Or would the spark ignite nothing, and leave my spirit just as desolate and my resolve just as empty? I shook my head and put that thought behind me. Now was not the time to entertain doubt. That cruel enchanter had been casting his shadow over me for far too long and now I was going to rid myself of him for good. Peering through rain-flecked windows along the way, I searched for the title of the one for whom I had long been after. "Apothecary"... "Bardmaid"... "Local Hero" ... and the titles of dozens of other ordinary citizens shone like little candles over their owners' heads. I heard creaking of rusty hinges that told me the inn was not far up the road. I hurried my footsteps and peered once more around the deserted street before turning off the walkway into the entrance of the Barebrook Inn. Shaking the rain from my cloak, I turned the handle of the large oaken door that held shut the warmth of the fires blazing inside the inn. Had I not been familiar with the town of Barebrook, I might've expected a cozy, quiet atmosphere such as I had found in many other small towns nestled in the foothills of the Woven Mountains. But I was no newcomer. I traded the roar of the storm outside for the roar of the crowd of people inside. Nearly every bench and chair was occupied and many were left standing in the aisles and along the walls of the inn. Small crowds of folks huddled together in corners and near the square wooden pillars that held up the vaulted roof of the inn. Two large chandeliers hung from the rafters at either end of the main hall and dotted along the walls were several lamps that provided a soft golden glow to the atmosphere of the place. Music was coming from the far end of the hall where it seemed local and traveling bards and troubadours were trading songwork. I wormed my way through the crowd up to the bar and looked for the owner's title. "Innkeeper Galen" was standing down the left-hand side of the bar by the staircase that led up to the second floor rooms. He was engrossed in conversation with a man, but I caught his eye and he gave me a nod by way of a greeting. I nodded back and reached over the bar for a glass, filled it with ale, left a few coins behind on the shelf, and turned to find a place to sit and wait. Over in a corner opposite the bar, there was a table being vacated by a group of five that were laughing and stumbling while putting on their coats. I rushed to sit before anyone else could claim the bench. From this spot, I could view the bar, the door, and the balcony of the second floor. "Had he already come and gone?" I thought worriedly. Again, I shook the thought from my head. It was still early on in the evening and I only knew I had to be here by midnight. Surely he hadn't been here and left yet. Over the next two hours, the crowd had thinned somewhat. I occupied my time by scanning the titles of the occupants of the inn, looking for ones I hadn't seen before. It was rare; most of the time, local inns were teeming with "shopkeepers", "town guards", and the occasional "Town Drunk" who spent nearly as much time at the bar as he did away from it. In Barebrook, that was Elford, who was presently resting in a booth with his head slumped against the wall, his empty mug still clutched in his fist. Having memorized everyone currently in attendance, I pulled out the old notebook I had been carrying since last summer and reviewed the three pages of notes that held the information that had led me back here. It seemed strange now how many times I had read them, and yet I had not had the sense to realize that it meant this place. Only after everything I'd learned over the past year had it become clear that the key had been hiding right under my nose. I looked up and saw that I was being watched. An old man seated two rows away from me was staring straight into my eyes. He did not blink and did not turn away as the vague shapes of bodies moved between us. An invisible hand gripped my insides as I tucked the notebook back into my pocket. I drained the last of my drink and imagined it filling my heart with courage as much as it filled my stomach. I stood up and met his eyes again as I walked toward the table where he sat. Above his head glowed the words "Wandering Beggar". If I was right about what I thought I knew, this was no random street urchin. His gaze followed me all the way to his table and he made no motion to stop me sitting down. His unblinking eyes unnerved me as much as staring down a starving bear, but I showed no hint of cowardice. If the rumors were true, and I made a false move, I never would've made it out of that inn alive. Slowly, I pulled out the notebook and laid it on the table between us. For the first time, his gaze shifted from me down to the old and tattered volume and for what seemed like minutes, he stared without speaking. Finally, he looked up at me again, his eyes shining, almost sparkling with... could it be tears? Slowly, his eyes turned upwards until it seemed he was looking straight at the ceiling. I followed his gaze until I noticed a flicker in the title floating above his head. For a fraction of a second, it changed. The words "The Forgotten King" had blinked into view just long enough to read before changing back into "Wandering Beggar". Nothing like the excitement of that moment had ever before flooded my mind and soul. Wave upon wave of righteous vindication, of cosmic justice, of deep and profound purpose was crashing inside me as, all at once, what seemed like a lifelong journey was only just now coming into view. Before my mind raced ahead into what was to come, I had this moment to get through. I looked down and met his eyes again and he blinked, inviting an opening to conversation. With what I hoped was a confident voice I spoke. "So it's true. The Forgotten King still lives." He eyed me a long time, as I questioned internally whether or not he would regard my remark as insulting or not. Finally, he answered. "I have not seen that journal in over forty years. I thought it long since lost." His voice sounded dry and cracked, as if it issued from the same old wood upon which we were sat. I wondered how long it had been since he last spoke to another living person. "Considering where I found it, it almost was." I replied. He looked at me and said nothing. So I went on. "I found it in the ruins of the Starlight Tunnels." I said, looking for a change in expression in The Forgotten King's face, some semblance of understanding. But there was none. I continued. "I found it on the body of an explorer who seemed to think the Tunnels might hold answers. I admit, I was only there as, at that time, I was possessed of the same notion. I could only suppose he was on the same quest I was." I paused. The Forgotten King nodded slightly. "I searched his pockets and found details of a trip across the eastern sea to Brackdale. Pointless journey it turned out to be. I don't know how the man from the tunnels came to be possessed of this journal but he clearly had no idea what he held." At this moment, the old man held up his hand. I froze. "Do you mean to tell me, then, that you have found it?" This surprised me. He seemed to guess much more than I had let on. "I... I think I have. But only part of it. We still need to-" He shook his head. Slowly he pulled something from inside his robes. My eyes widened in shock. It was the hilt of The Kingspear! He held it out and looked at me expectantly. And from my pocket I pulled out the ornate orb that I had held close these long years and held it up for him to see. A sparkle shone in his eyes that matched the one I knew shone in mine and he held out a weathered, aged hand almost like a child holding out a hand for a present. "And now," he said, with a rising volume, "we return!" And taking my hand in his, he pressed the orb to the top of the scepter and with a bang and a flash, as though a bomb had just gone off, we transcended the plane in which the inn existed, and though I knew not where we were headed, I knew there was no going back. *Edited for grammar/punctuation	I called out to the shaggy man who continued walking. He turned around sluggishly, with an empty beer bottle in his hand and a bag in his other. "Whadda ya want, kid?" The man shouted to me, I ran towards him to talk with him in a more secretive manner. "I need to ask you something, it's very important" I said in a whisper. "If this is anotha prank, I'll kill ya. Don't test me boy." He threatened by pointing towards my heart. I leaned a bit closer to his ear. "Why is your title 'The Forgotten King?'" The man then grabbed me and pulled me closer. "How the hell did ya know about that?" I couldn't explain to him how I see people, so I pulled him into the alley and asked him the question again, with more emphasis this time. "I haven't told anyone yet, so sit tight." The man said. Suddenly, I could hear the beginning of Coldplay's Viva La Vida playing all around me. "What's happening? Is this a musical or something?" I ask the man confused. "I used to ruuuulllleeeee the worrrrllllllddddd"... Sorry for formatting, on mobile
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	David was opening up his shop when I arrived that morning. He was a fine book seller, always had the most compelling tales of heroism and adventure. I browsed his shop for only an hour that morning, I had too many books already. I looked around the shop aimlessly as he bagged my purchases, my eyes settled only momentarily on the words above the old man’s head. The Shopkeeper The rest of the town was waking up as I started to walk back home. Sarah, The Baker, handed me a loaf as I walked by. She was always generous. We were good friends, both of us had taken on our family businesses and shared the same struggles of keeping up with the newer town shops. I continued walking back home, greeting everyone from Paul, The Sheriff, to Anna, The Harpist. They all had the same titles above them, day after day. In white, neat penmanship, simple titles that were true to their characters. I had started to see them one day, when I was young. I had asked my father about them, but he had simply waved them off as part of my youthful imagination. “They’ll go away when you’re older.” That had been over twenty-years ago. I was now thirty-two, and the titles were still there. I didn’t know what my title was, I would sometimes go sit by the lake, to see if there was anything in my reflection. I never had one, not even when my father had died and I had become the town’s blacksmith. Father had always had a distaste for my interest in books, he said reading was for scholars. I had struggled to learn to read, since my mother had died when I was young, and Father did not know how. I learned one day though, that the shapes and lines that I was seeing above people were words. They had meaning, and gave people names beyond those given to them at birth. The bookkeeper had taught me how to read in exchange for a solid lock for his shop. I had learned how to make the lock from one of the first books I read. I was out of the main part of the town, there were fewer people with their shops open and even fewer out in the streets. The Midwife, The Priest, and The Shoemaker were the only ones I saw as I walked by. There was a man though who sat outside of the town’s church. He sat there in the cold with nothing but a single shirt and pants. He wore no shoes and his black beard was unkempt. I was getting closer and noticed his dirty face, but there was no other way. I had to walk past the church to get to my shop. That was when I noticed his title. The Forgotten King. I kept walking, but my pace slowed. No one had ever had that title before, no one had ever had a ridiculous title. I turned to look at him casually as I passed, pretending to be looking all around at the surroundings. I felt my eyes linger on the words above his head. Suddenly the homeless man’s head shot up. He looked me in the eyes and I was taken aback by how blue and clear they were. “You!” He jumped up from the steps of the church and I stopped, not sure if I wanted this man to know where I lived. “May I help you sir?” I couldn’t stop glancing at his title, it wasn’t in white text like most people’s. The Forgotten King was written in a faded grey, almost as if it was a sign that had been painted and then exposed to time and the elements. He leaned in closer to my face and I held my breath, not wanting to smell the stench off of a homeless man. I wanted to push him away, but it seemed wrong to be rude to another man in front of the town church. “Yes, yes. I knew you were here.” He muttered, looking at me from above. He was taller than me, and bigger despite the clothes of a homeless man. It was rare for someone bigger than the blacksmith to come to town. “Do I know you, sir?” I took a small breath when he leaned away, thankfully not catching a whiff of whatever his unkempt beard was probably giving off. I had seen a piece of moldy cheese in it. “No, but I know you.” He pointed at a spot above my head, “You’re The Titlemaker.”	I called out to the shaggy man who continued walking. He turned around sluggishly, with an empty beer bottle in his hand and a bag in his other. "Whadda ya want, kid?" The man shouted to me, I ran towards him to talk with him in a more secretive manner. "I need to ask you something, it's very important" I said in a whisper. "If this is anotha prank, I'll kill ya. Don't test me boy." He threatened by pointing towards my heart. I leaned a bit closer to his ear. "Why is your title 'The Forgotten King?'" The man then grabbed me and pulled me closer. "How the hell did ya know about that?" I couldn't explain to him how I see people, so I pulled him into the alley and asked him the question again, with more emphasis this time. "I haven't told anyone yet, so sit tight." The man said. Suddenly, I could hear the beginning of Coldplay's Viva La Vida playing all around me. "What's happening? Is this a musical or something?" I ask the man confused. "I used to ruuuulllleeeee the worrrrllllllddddd"... Sorry for formatting, on mobile
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	Rain pattered the street as I walked hurriedly through town, listening for the familiar creak of the large wooden shingle that hung rusty and paint chipped outside the town's only inn. The sun had already set and the oil lamps had long since fizzled out in the storm. Three days it had been since I set out from Port Ariff. Three days without food and without rest. My only hope was that I was not too late. Halver's words still echoed in my head, "Give up, mate. He's long dead by now. You're wasting your time and gold on a fool's errand." Would he be right in the end? It was true that I had spent nearly everything I had left on the ticket back to Port Ariff from Brackdale, where false news had sent me to regrettable misfortune. It was also true that this journey had now spanned the better part of seven years and had claimed more of my sanity than the first thirty years of my life had done. But this last clue had become the spark to reignite the kind of flames that could whip thru the Echoing Forest in a single breath, leaving nothing but an ashen wasteland littered with the bones of every living thing that couldn't see the future as I could... Or would the spark ignite nothing, and leave my spirit just as desolate and my resolve just as empty? I shook my head and put that thought behind me. Now was not the time to entertain doubt. That cruel enchanter had been casting his shadow over me for far too long and now I was going to rid myself of him for good. Peering through rain-flecked windows along the way, I searched for the title of the one for whom I had long been after. "Apothecary"... "Bardmaid"... "Local Hero" ... and the titles of dozens of other ordinary citizens shone like little candles over their owners' heads. I heard creaking of rusty hinges that told me the inn was not far up the road. I hurried my footsteps and peered once more around the deserted street before turning off the walkway into the entrance of the Barebrook Inn. Shaking the rain from my cloak, I turned the handle of the large oaken door that held shut the warmth of the fires blazing inside the inn. Had I not been familiar with the town of Barebrook, I might've expected a cozy, quiet atmosphere such as I had found in many other small towns nestled in the foothills of the Woven Mountains. But I was no newcomer. I traded the roar of the storm outside for the roar of the crowd of people inside. Nearly every bench and chair was occupied and many were left standing in the aisles and along the walls of the inn. Small crowds of folks huddled together in corners and near the square wooden pillars that held up the vaulted roof of the inn. Two large chandeliers hung from the rafters at either end of the main hall and dotted along the walls were several lamps that provided a soft golden glow to the atmosphere of the place. Music was coming from the far end of the hall where it seemed local and traveling bards and troubadours were trading songwork. I wormed my way through the crowd up to the bar and looked for the owner's title. "Innkeeper Galen" was standing down the left-hand side of the bar by the staircase that led up to the second floor rooms. He was engrossed in conversation with a man, but I caught his eye and he gave me a nod by way of a greeting. I nodded back and reached over the bar for a glass, filled it with ale, left a few coins behind on the shelf, and turned to find a place to sit and wait. Over in a corner opposite the bar, there was a table being vacated by a group of five that were laughing and stumbling while putting on their coats. I rushed to sit before anyone else could claim the bench. From this spot, I could view the bar, the door, and the balcony of the second floor. "Had he already come and gone?" I thought worriedly. Again, I shook the thought from my head. It was still early on in the evening and I only knew I had to be here by midnight. Surely he hadn't been here and left yet. Over the next two hours, the crowd had thinned somewhat. I occupied my time by scanning the titles of the occupants of the inn, looking for ones I hadn't seen before. It was rare; most of the time, local inns were teeming with "shopkeepers", "town guards", and the occasional "Town Drunk" who spent nearly as much time at the bar as he did away from it. In Barebrook, that was Elford, who was presently resting in a booth with his head slumped against the wall, his empty mug still clutched in his fist. Having memorized everyone currently in attendance, I pulled out the old notebook I had been carrying since last summer and reviewed the three pages of notes that held the information that had led me back here. It seemed strange now how many times I had read them, and yet I had not had the sense to realize that it meant this place. Only after everything I'd learned over the past year had it become clear that the key had been hiding right under my nose. I looked up and saw that I was being watched. An old man seated two rows away from me was staring straight into my eyes. He did not blink and did not turn away as the vague shapes of bodies moved between us. An invisible hand gripped my insides as I tucked the notebook back into my pocket. I drained the last of my drink and imagined it filling my heart with courage as much as it filled my stomach. I stood up and met his eyes again as I walked toward the table where he sat. Above his head glowed the words "Wandering Beggar". If I was right about what I thought I knew, this was no random street urchin. His gaze followed me all the way to his table and he made no motion to stop me sitting down. His unblinking eyes unnerved me as much as staring down a starving bear, but I showed no hint of cowardice. If the rumors were true, and I made a false move, I never would've made it out of that inn alive. Slowly, I pulled out the notebook and laid it on the table between us. For the first time, his gaze shifted from me down to the old and tattered volume and for what seemed like minutes, he stared without speaking. Finally, he looked up at me again, his eyes shining, almost sparkling with... could it be tears? Slowly, his eyes turned upwards until it seemed he was looking straight at the ceiling. I followed his gaze until I noticed a flicker in the title floating above his head. For a fraction of a second, it changed. The words "The Forgotten King" had blinked into view just long enough to read before changing back into "Wandering Beggar". Nothing like the excitement of that moment had ever before flooded my mind and soul. Wave upon wave of righteous vindication, of cosmic justice, of deep and profound purpose was crashing inside me as, all at once, what seemed like a lifelong journey was only just now coming into view. Before my mind raced ahead into what was to come, I had this moment to get through. I looked down and met his eyes again and he blinked, inviting an opening to conversation. With what I hoped was a confident voice I spoke. "So it's true. The Forgotten King still lives." He eyed me a long time, as I questioned internally whether or not he would regard my remark as insulting or not. Finally, he answered. "I have not seen that journal in over forty years. I thought it long since lost." His voice sounded dry and cracked, as if it issued from the same old wood upon which we were sat. I wondered how long it had been since he last spoke to another living person. "Considering where I found it, it almost was." I replied. He looked at me and said nothing. So I went on. "I found it in the ruins of the Starlight Tunnels." I said, looking for a change in expression in The Forgotten King's face, some semblance of understanding. But there was none. I continued. "I found it on the body of an explorer who seemed to think the Tunnels might hold answers. I admit, I was only there as, at that time, I was possessed of the same notion. I could only suppose he was on the same quest I was." I paused. The Forgotten King nodded slightly. "I searched his pockets and found details of a trip across the eastern sea to Brackdale. Pointless journey it turned out to be. I don't know how the man from the tunnels came to be possessed of this journal but he clearly had no idea what he held." At this moment, the old man held up his hand. I froze. "Do you mean to tell me, then, that you have found it?" This surprised me. He seemed to guess much more than I had let on. "I... I think I have. But only part of it. We still need to-" He shook his head. Slowly he pulled something from inside his robes. My eyes widened in shock. It was the hilt of The Kingspear! He held it out and looked at me expectantly. And from my pocket I pulled out the ornate orb that I had held close these long years and held it up for him to see. A sparkle shone in his eyes that matched the one I knew shone in mine and he held out a weathered, aged hand almost like a child holding out a hand for a present. "And now," he said, with a rising volume, "we return!" And taking my hand in his, he pressed the orb to the top of the scepter and with a bang and a flash, as though a bomb had just gone off, we transcended the plane in which the inn existed, and though I knew not where we were headed, I knew there was no going back. *Edited for grammar/punctuation	I haven't told anyone about it. Not my mother and not my father. They already sent me to a shrink after they found my collection of Johnny The Homicidal Maniac comics and saw me playing Doom on my computer. "Violent Fantasies", they'd told the shrink. That wasn't the only thing going on in my head. I always assumed it was just some teenage extension of childhood play-pretend when I saw it. I always used to have vivid fantasies like that: imagining my house as a space station and the car outside as a shuttle in orbit, or my school as a prison castle guarded by the teachers (who, naturally, I envisioned as heavily armored orcs). This eventually took the form of envisioning titles and character names over peoples' heads, like they were NPCs from a video game. This was usually based on their role. The cute woman with pink hair and a skull earring at the Target Starbucks showed up as "shopkeeper", at least until I learned her name and, eventually, her telephone number. Perhaps she was an NPC no longer? Similar titles appeared: "nurse", "desk assistant", and so on. The National Guardsmen I saw walking into a coffee showed up appeared as "guard". The man in scrubs taking the bus showed up as "nurse". Eventually, I saw something strange. I was yawning, taking the bus home from a failed job interview and not feeling all that stressed: if the interviewers were going to rake me over the coals, did I even want that job? It was then that I noticed - an old man on the bus, a battered baseball cap on his head, carrying a beaten and rusted metal walking cane. His face careworn, a single eye missing, one of his ears chewed off at the tip. His left foot was bent away from his ankle at a crude angle, broken and never reset. Above his head, his title appeared: THE FORGOTTEN KING. I rubbed my eyes, doing a double take. The man's one eye looked at me. He shook his head, clearly frightened. When the bus stopped, he limped carefully off of the bus, his good leg barely managing the steps. I continued taking the bus until I got within walking distance of my apartment on the second floor of a student housing complex near the university. I walked upstairs and opened the door. There, on my couch and single chair in my two-room apartment.... two men sat. Both wore grey suits and pink ties, a pair of Ray-Bans over their eyes. Above their heads, their title appeared: INTERDIMENSIONAL AGENT. One of the two men held a pistol over his knee. The other stood up and held a black and white photograph in front of me, of the half-blind cripple I saw on the bus. "Have you seen this man?" He asked. "We're going to need you to kill him." &#x200B;
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	I was walking home one Winter night, doing the usual and reading out peoples titles in my head. Kevin Johannes - Dog Groomer, Susan Warren - Kickboxer, I passed a man and woman who's title indicated they were siblings, and who were getting a smidge to romantic with each other, I cringed. Then, sitting on the corner I saw The Forgotten King, I stopped in front of him staring at the words floating above his head. He was curled up just inside the opening of an alley clutching an odd choice for a change cup, it looked like aged bronze and very old. After a few moments the old man rose his head and saw me looking at his cup, caught off guard my hand shot for my pocket and fumbled for some change, "Heh" the old man chuckled. "It's alright lad, I'm used to people starring, this is a strange thing for a man like me to have." "Where'd you get it?" I asked trying not to seem rude. The old man sighed "Over seas during the war....a very old war, I doubt you'd believe me if I told you which one...no matter, I'm supposed to give it to someone in Rome but I haven't been able to get it back to where It needs to go, so I'm sort of.. stuck, in a way until that happens." I think to myself what he means by stuck, but I carry on my conversation. "Well I do travel a lot for work, maybe we can talk about it and I can probably help?" The old man stares at nothing for several seconds and focuses back on me. "You... you'd take this burd-..... I mean, cup from me?" Confused, I agree and the old man starts looking more relived than I've ever seen anyone. Fumbling over his words he stands up and shakes my hand. "My good Sir, you have no idea how long I have waited for someone like you to come along, what do they call you?" "I...uh, well my name is Lance" the old man scoffs but quickly tries to hide his reaction. "Ah...well Lance.... thank you for your offering to help me in my ques-.... endeavor. Meet me back here early tomorrow, there are a very specific set of instructions that are involved that I need to prepare." I agree and shake his hand again. As I start going back to my hotel I turn back around "Oh, I didn't get your name" the old man pauses ".....my name? I can't remember the last time I used it, it was... it is Arthur, yeah Arthur!"	I haven't told anyone about it. Not my mother and not my father. They already sent me to a shrink after they found my collection of Johnny The Homicidal Maniac comics and saw me playing Doom on my computer. "Violent Fantasies", they'd told the shrink. That wasn't the only thing going on in my head. I always assumed it was just some teenage extension of childhood play-pretend when I saw it. I always used to have vivid fantasies like that: imagining my house as a space station and the car outside as a shuttle in orbit, or my school as a prison castle guarded by the teachers (who, naturally, I envisioned as heavily armored orcs). This eventually took the form of envisioning titles and character names over peoples' heads, like they were NPCs from a video game. This was usually based on their role. The cute woman with pink hair and a skull earring at the Target Starbucks showed up as "shopkeeper", at least until I learned her name and, eventually, her telephone number. Perhaps she was an NPC no longer? Similar titles appeared: "nurse", "desk assistant", and so on. The National Guardsmen I saw walking into a coffee showed up appeared as "guard". The man in scrubs taking the bus showed up as "nurse". Eventually, I saw something strange. I was yawning, taking the bus home from a failed job interview and not feeling all that stressed: if the interviewers were going to rake me over the coals, did I even want that job? It was then that I noticed - an old man on the bus, a battered baseball cap on his head, carrying a beaten and rusted metal walking cane. His face careworn, a single eye missing, one of his ears chewed off at the tip. His left foot was bent away from his ankle at a crude angle, broken and never reset. Above his head, his title appeared: THE FORGOTTEN KING. I rubbed my eyes, doing a double take. The man's one eye looked at me. He shook his head, clearly frightened. When the bus stopped, he limped carefully off of the bus, his good leg barely managing the steps. I continued taking the bus until I got within walking distance of my apartment on the second floor of a student housing complex near the university. I walked upstairs and opened the door. There, on my couch and single chair in my two-room apartment.... two men sat. Both wore grey suits and pink ties, a pair of Ray-Bans over their eyes. Above their heads, their title appeared: INTERDIMENSIONAL AGENT. One of the two men held a pistol over his knee. The other stood up and held a black and white photograph in front of me, of the half-blind cripple I saw on the bus. "Have you seen this man?" He asked. "We're going to need you to kill him." &#x200B;
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	David was opening up his shop when I arrived that morning. He was a fine book seller, always had the most compelling tales of heroism and adventure. I browsed his shop for only an hour that morning, I had too many books already. I looked around the shop aimlessly as he bagged my purchases, my eyes settled only momentarily on the words above the old man’s head. The Shopkeeper The rest of the town was waking up as I started to walk back home. Sarah, The Baker, handed me a loaf as I walked by. She was always generous. We were good friends, both of us had taken on our family businesses and shared the same struggles of keeping up with the newer town shops. I continued walking back home, greeting everyone from Paul, The Sheriff, to Anna, The Harpist. They all had the same titles above them, day after day. In white, neat penmanship, simple titles that were true to their characters. I had started to see them one day, when I was young. I had asked my father about them, but he had simply waved them off as part of my youthful imagination. “They’ll go away when you’re older.” That had been over twenty-years ago. I was now thirty-two, and the titles were still there. I didn’t know what my title was, I would sometimes go sit by the lake, to see if there was anything in my reflection. I never had one, not even when my father had died and I had become the town’s blacksmith. Father had always had a distaste for my interest in books, he said reading was for scholars. I had struggled to learn to read, since my mother had died when I was young, and Father did not know how. I learned one day though, that the shapes and lines that I was seeing above people were words. They had meaning, and gave people names beyond those given to them at birth. The bookkeeper had taught me how to read in exchange for a solid lock for his shop. I had learned how to make the lock from one of the first books I read. I was out of the main part of the town, there were fewer people with their shops open and even fewer out in the streets. The Midwife, The Priest, and The Shoemaker were the only ones I saw as I walked by. There was a man though who sat outside of the town’s church. He sat there in the cold with nothing but a single shirt and pants. He wore no shoes and his black beard was unkempt. I was getting closer and noticed his dirty face, but there was no other way. I had to walk past the church to get to my shop. That was when I noticed his title. The Forgotten King. I kept walking, but my pace slowed. No one had ever had that title before, no one had ever had a ridiculous title. I turned to look at him casually as I passed, pretending to be looking all around at the surroundings. I felt my eyes linger on the words above his head. Suddenly the homeless man’s head shot up. He looked me in the eyes and I was taken aback by how blue and clear they were. “You!” He jumped up from the steps of the church and I stopped, not sure if I wanted this man to know where I lived. “May I help you sir?” I couldn’t stop glancing at his title, it wasn’t in white text like most people’s. The Forgotten King was written in a faded grey, almost as if it was a sign that had been painted and then exposed to time and the elements. He leaned in closer to my face and I held my breath, not wanting to smell the stench off of a homeless man. I wanted to push him away, but it seemed wrong to be rude to another man in front of the town church. “Yes, yes. I knew you were here.” He muttered, looking at me from above. He was taller than me, and bigger despite the clothes of a homeless man. It was rare for someone bigger than the blacksmith to come to town. “Do I know you, sir?” I took a small breath when he leaned away, thankfully not catching a whiff of whatever his unkempt beard was probably giving off. I had seen a piece of moldy cheese in it. “No, but I know you.” He pointed at a spot above my head, “You’re The Titlemaker.”	I haven't told anyone about it. Not my mother and not my father. They already sent me to a shrink after they found my collection of Johnny The Homicidal Maniac comics and saw me playing Doom on my computer. "Violent Fantasies", they'd told the shrink. That wasn't the only thing going on in my head. I always assumed it was just some teenage extension of childhood play-pretend when I saw it. I always used to have vivid fantasies like that: imagining my house as a space station and the car outside as a shuttle in orbit, or my school as a prison castle guarded by the teachers (who, naturally, I envisioned as heavily armored orcs). This eventually took the form of envisioning titles and character names over peoples' heads, like they were NPCs from a video game. This was usually based on their role. The cute woman with pink hair and a skull earring at the Target Starbucks showed up as "shopkeeper", at least until I learned her name and, eventually, her telephone number. Perhaps she was an NPC no longer? Similar titles appeared: "nurse", "desk assistant", and so on. The National Guardsmen I saw walking into a coffee showed up appeared as "guard". The man in scrubs taking the bus showed up as "nurse". Eventually, I saw something strange. I was yawning, taking the bus home from a failed job interview and not feeling all that stressed: if the interviewers were going to rake me over the coals, did I even want that job? It was then that I noticed - an old man on the bus, a battered baseball cap on his head, carrying a beaten and rusted metal walking cane. His face careworn, a single eye missing, one of his ears chewed off at the tip. His left foot was bent away from his ankle at a crude angle, broken and never reset. Above his head, his title appeared: THE FORGOTTEN KING. I rubbed my eyes, doing a double take. The man's one eye looked at me. He shook his head, clearly frightened. When the bus stopped, he limped carefully off of the bus, his good leg barely managing the steps. I continued taking the bus until I got within walking distance of my apartment on the second floor of a student housing complex near the university. I walked upstairs and opened the door. There, on my couch and single chair in my two-room apartment.... two men sat. Both wore grey suits and pink ties, a pair of Ray-Bans over their eyes. Above their heads, their title appeared: INTERDIMENSIONAL AGENT. One of the two men held a pistol over his knee. The other stood up and held a black and white photograph in front of me, of the half-blind cripple I saw on the bus. "Have you seen this man?" He asked. "We're going to need you to kill him." &#x200B;
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	[Poem] Joseph sees the Forgotten King Surrounded by little bottles of drink King looks up to see what he brings As he sits in the dew of the spring Joseph asks him “Are you the King?” To the Forgotten King, clearly aging The king smiles and gives him a wink “Indeed I am, beneath this stink” “What happened to you?” Asks the boy The old king’s face fills with joy “I went to search for a beautiful thing A love that carried me on silver wing” The boy, confused, casts his doubt “But you left behind all that clout!” The king looks dreamily, far away “The price I did sorely pay But I found my love, what can I say?” Edit: I’m on mobile please excuse formatting until I get the chance to fix it	Autumn. Leaves are falling down the trees, and if I don't concentrate my eyes, it looks like pieces of amber fall from the sky. I love autumn. Most people say that spring is the most beautiful season of all, but I disagree. To me, walking in the park at autumn is as close to paradise as it can get. Today is no exception of my autumn routine of walking at the park before work. I rarely see people at this time of the day, but I tend to pass a couple of regulars each morning. Today is no different. I've already passed "The Pickpocketer", who still manages to keep his title for a long time, even though everyone knows he likes to pickpocket. I guess he is a master of his craft. And here is "The Gardener", a young lady who enjoys autumn and the park as much as I do and walks around before her work shift. And finally, "The..." Wait, what? "The Forgotten King"?? I notice this drunkard every morning, but I avoid eye contact with him, so I always just assumed that his title is "The Homeless". Wait wait wait, I have to talk with him! "Hey, sir, are you okay?" I asked the homeless man carefully "Howdy howdy howdy, the me-ga... me-ga... germ?" the man half drowned in fallen leaves answers "It is "The Manager", I guess your breakfast was a tad too strong!" I jokingly fix his mistake "I mean when I was younger, I wasn't required to read... I guess you can see my title!" in high voice shouts the homeless man "Yeah, about that... Were you really a king?" "Uhm, son, I have a lot to tell you, but do you know the Kingdom?" "Was it the most infamous organized crime group of all time? If you refer to that, then yes." "Well, the Kingdom had to have a KING, am I right? said the man in a boasting fashion "Wait, you don't want to say, that you were the King?" with a racing heartbeat I whispered "Exactly that, THE KING!" shouted a man with too much alcohol content in his blood "But but, I thought the King was killed?" "Son, you know shit! I got tired of all that bullshit. Kill this, shoot that, smuggle these... I just wanted to live a peaceful life, but because of these bullshit titles everyone sees it was impossible for me to come back into society..." with a hint of sadness muttered the King "Do you call this coming back to the society?" I enquired "You know yourself that these titles update according to our recent activity and occupation. I was "the King". Now I'm "the Forgotten King". One, two, three, whatever the fuck years down the drain I will become "The Drunkard", and by that time I will be old enough for no one to recognize me from my face. I will reform myself this way... Step by step, from the top of one hierarchy, through the rut of the normal hierarchy into..." man's speech abruptly stopped "Into?... What are you exactly planning to do after your title is clean?" "MY DAUGHTER..." the homeless man cried out loud "You have a daughter?" I stuttered as I hugged the Forgotten King "Yes... And she is really into flowers, autumn, and this park..."
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	I once dated a girl who had the title, "The Destroyer". It didn't take me long to realize how and why she deserved that name. After a series of fights and near-death experiences, we broke off our relationship and decided it would be best if we didn't remain friends. I remember the night that I left her apartment, when everything had ended, and I was left single on the city street, with no place to go except my boring apartment in Queens. I walked down 10th avenue, looking for a bar and trying to find any reason to not go back home. &#x200B; A homeless man was standing at the street corner a block ahead and yelling something about coupons. In a normal situation, I would have jay-walked across the avenue and ignored the situation, but my mood requested that I encounter some kind of craziness, so I approached the man until I could smell the layer of week-old piss on his hefty winter jacket. &#x200B; "Coupons are a scam by businesses to make you addicted to their product" he was yelling. What happened next was an accident - but it turned out to be more insightful than I expected. I bumped against his arm that he had stuck out into the crowd, and when I looked into his eyes to offer some kind of chastisement, I saw his title and was shocked. "The Forgotten King." &#x200B; "What did you say, boy?" the man asked me, his voice now quieter yet more threatening. I didn't realize it, but I had muttered his title out loud. &#x200B; "Nothing, sorry. &#x200B; "No, what did you say? You afraid of me?" &#x200B; "No, of course not. I'm sorry, you just look familiar." &#x200B; He gave me a look with the complete understanding that I was lying to him. Then, he pulled a grate from behind a New York City trash can and sat on it, directing his gaze directly up at me. I didn't know what to do until he took another object out from behind the trash can. At first, it looked like a dusty piece of garbage, but when he blew on it, a gleaming lining of gold appeared, and he stood up and placed the crown on my head. The two of us stood there, staring at each other without saying anything. Then he gave me a big, near-toothless and gum-filled smile and said, "now you understand." &#x200B; I nodded, letting the tears stream down my cheeks. &#x200B; "Now you understand."	Autumn. Leaves are falling down the trees, and if I don't concentrate my eyes, it looks like pieces of amber fall from the sky. I love autumn. Most people say that spring is the most beautiful season of all, but I disagree. To me, walking in the park at autumn is as close to paradise as it can get. Today is no exception of my autumn routine of walking at the park before work. I rarely see people at this time of the day, but I tend to pass a couple of regulars each morning. Today is no different. I've already passed "The Pickpocketer", who still manages to keep his title for a long time, even though everyone knows he likes to pickpocket. I guess he is a master of his craft. And here is "The Gardener", a young lady who enjoys autumn and the park as much as I do and walks around before her work shift. And finally, "The..." Wait, what? "The Forgotten King"?? I notice this drunkard every morning, but I avoid eye contact with him, so I always just assumed that his title is "The Homeless". Wait wait wait, I have to talk with him! "Hey, sir, are you okay?" I asked the homeless man carefully "Howdy howdy howdy, the me-ga... me-ga... germ?" the man half drowned in fallen leaves answers "It is "The Manager", I guess your breakfast was a tad too strong!" I jokingly fix his mistake "I mean when I was younger, I wasn't required to read... I guess you can see my title!" in high voice shouts the homeless man "Yeah, about that... Were you really a king?" "Uhm, son, I have a lot to tell you, but do you know the Kingdom?" "Was it the most infamous organized crime group of all time? If you refer to that, then yes." "Well, the Kingdom had to have a KING, am I right? said the man in a boasting fashion "Wait, you don't want to say, that you were the King?" with a racing heartbeat I whispered "Exactly that, THE KING!" shouted a man with too much alcohol content in his blood "But but, I thought the King was killed?" "Son, you know shit! I got tired of all that bullshit. Kill this, shoot that, smuggle these... I just wanted to live a peaceful life, but because of these bullshit titles everyone sees it was impossible for me to come back into society..." with a hint of sadness muttered the King "Do you call this coming back to the society?" I enquired "You know yourself that these titles update according to our recent activity and occupation. I was "the King". Now I'm "the Forgotten King". One, two, three, whatever the fuck years down the drain I will become "The Drunkard", and by that time I will be old enough for no one to recognize me from my face. I will reform myself this way... Step by step, from the top of one hierarchy, through the rut of the normal hierarchy into..." man's speech abruptly stopped "Into?... What are you exactly planning to do after your title is clean?" "MY DAUGHTER..." the homeless man cried out loud "You have a daughter?" I stuttered as I hugged the Forgotten King "Yes... And she is really into flowers, autumn, and this park..."
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	Rain pattered the street as I walked hurriedly through town, listening for the familiar creak of the large wooden shingle that hung rusty and paint chipped outside the town's only inn. The sun had already set and the oil lamps had long since fizzled out in the storm. Three days it had been since I set out from Port Ariff. Three days without food and without rest. My only hope was that I was not too late. Halver's words still echoed in my head, "Give up, mate. He's long dead by now. You're wasting your time and gold on a fool's errand." Would he be right in the end? It was true that I had spent nearly everything I had left on the ticket back to Port Ariff from Brackdale, where false news had sent me to regrettable misfortune. It was also true that this journey had now spanned the better part of seven years and had claimed more of my sanity than the first thirty years of my life had done. But this last clue had become the spark to reignite the kind of flames that could whip thru the Echoing Forest in a single breath, leaving nothing but an ashen wasteland littered with the bones of every living thing that couldn't see the future as I could... Or would the spark ignite nothing, and leave my spirit just as desolate and my resolve just as empty? I shook my head and put that thought behind me. Now was not the time to entertain doubt. That cruel enchanter had been casting his shadow over me for far too long and now I was going to rid myself of him for good. Peering through rain-flecked windows along the way, I searched for the title of the one for whom I had long been after. "Apothecary"... "Bardmaid"... "Local Hero" ... and the titles of dozens of other ordinary citizens shone like little candles over their owners' heads. I heard creaking of rusty hinges that told me the inn was not far up the road. I hurried my footsteps and peered once more around the deserted street before turning off the walkway into the entrance of the Barebrook Inn. Shaking the rain from my cloak, I turned the handle of the large oaken door that held shut the warmth of the fires blazing inside the inn. Had I not been familiar with the town of Barebrook, I might've expected a cozy, quiet atmosphere such as I had found in many other small towns nestled in the foothills of the Woven Mountains. But I was no newcomer. I traded the roar of the storm outside for the roar of the crowd of people inside. Nearly every bench and chair was occupied and many were left standing in the aisles and along the walls of the inn. Small crowds of folks huddled together in corners and near the square wooden pillars that held up the vaulted roof of the inn. Two large chandeliers hung from the rafters at either end of the main hall and dotted along the walls were several lamps that provided a soft golden glow to the atmosphere of the place. Music was coming from the far end of the hall where it seemed local and traveling bards and troubadours were trading songwork. I wormed my way through the crowd up to the bar and looked for the owner's title. "Innkeeper Galen" was standing down the left-hand side of the bar by the staircase that led up to the second floor rooms. He was engrossed in conversation with a man, but I caught his eye and he gave me a nod by way of a greeting. I nodded back and reached over the bar for a glass, filled it with ale, left a few coins behind on the shelf, and turned to find a place to sit and wait. Over in a corner opposite the bar, there was a table being vacated by a group of five that were laughing and stumbling while putting on their coats. I rushed to sit before anyone else could claim the bench. From this spot, I could view the bar, the door, and the balcony of the second floor. "Had he already come and gone?" I thought worriedly. Again, I shook the thought from my head. It was still early on in the evening and I only knew I had to be here by midnight. Surely he hadn't been here and left yet. Over the next two hours, the crowd had thinned somewhat. I occupied my time by scanning the titles of the occupants of the inn, looking for ones I hadn't seen before. It was rare; most of the time, local inns were teeming with "shopkeepers", "town guards", and the occasional "Town Drunk" who spent nearly as much time at the bar as he did away from it. In Barebrook, that was Elford, who was presently resting in a booth with his head slumped against the wall, his empty mug still clutched in his fist. Having memorized everyone currently in attendance, I pulled out the old notebook I had been carrying since last summer and reviewed the three pages of notes that held the information that had led me back here. It seemed strange now how many times I had read them, and yet I had not had the sense to realize that it meant this place. Only after everything I'd learned over the past year had it become clear that the key had been hiding right under my nose. I looked up and saw that I was being watched. An old man seated two rows away from me was staring straight into my eyes. He did not blink and did not turn away as the vague shapes of bodies moved between us. An invisible hand gripped my insides as I tucked the notebook back into my pocket. I drained the last of my drink and imagined it filling my heart with courage as much as it filled my stomach. I stood up and met his eyes again as I walked toward the table where he sat. Above his head glowed the words "Wandering Beggar". If I was right about what I thought I knew, this was no random street urchin. His gaze followed me all the way to his table and he made no motion to stop me sitting down. His unblinking eyes unnerved me as much as staring down a starving bear, but I showed no hint of cowardice. If the rumors were true, and I made a false move, I never would've made it out of that inn alive. Slowly, I pulled out the notebook and laid it on the table between us. For the first time, his gaze shifted from me down to the old and tattered volume and for what seemed like minutes, he stared without speaking. Finally, he looked up at me again, his eyes shining, almost sparkling with... could it be tears? Slowly, his eyes turned upwards until it seemed he was looking straight at the ceiling. I followed his gaze until I noticed a flicker in the title floating above his head. For a fraction of a second, it changed. The words "The Forgotten King" had blinked into view just long enough to read before changing back into "Wandering Beggar". Nothing like the excitement of that moment had ever before flooded my mind and soul. Wave upon wave of righteous vindication, of cosmic justice, of deep and profound purpose was crashing inside me as, all at once, what seemed like a lifelong journey was only just now coming into view. Before my mind raced ahead into what was to come, I had this moment to get through. I looked down and met his eyes again and he blinked, inviting an opening to conversation. With what I hoped was a confident voice I spoke. "So it's true. The Forgotten King still lives." He eyed me a long time, as I questioned internally whether or not he would regard my remark as insulting or not. Finally, he answered. "I have not seen that journal in over forty years. I thought it long since lost." His voice sounded dry and cracked, as if it issued from the same old wood upon which we were sat. I wondered how long it had been since he last spoke to another living person. "Considering where I found it, it almost was." I replied. He looked at me and said nothing. So I went on. "I found it in the ruins of the Starlight Tunnels." I said, looking for a change in expression in The Forgotten King's face, some semblance of understanding. But there was none. I continued. "I found it on the body of an explorer who seemed to think the Tunnels might hold answers. I admit, I was only there as, at that time, I was possessed of the same notion. I could only suppose he was on the same quest I was." I paused. The Forgotten King nodded slightly. "I searched his pockets and found details of a trip across the eastern sea to Brackdale. Pointless journey it turned out to be. I don't know how the man from the tunnels came to be possessed of this journal but he clearly had no idea what he held." At this moment, the old man held up his hand. I froze. "Do you mean to tell me, then, that you have found it?" This surprised me. He seemed to guess much more than I had let on. "I... I think I have. But only part of it. We still need to-" He shook his head. Slowly he pulled something from inside his robes. My eyes widened in shock. It was the hilt of The Kingspear! He held it out and looked at me expectantly. And from my pocket I pulled out the ornate orb that I had held close these long years and held it up for him to see. A sparkle shone in his eyes that matched the one I knew shone in mine and he held out a weathered, aged hand almost like a child holding out a hand for a present. "And now," he said, with a rising volume, "we return!" And taking my hand in his, he pressed the orb to the top of the scepter and with a bang and a flash, as though a bomb had just gone off, we transcended the plane in which the inn existed, and though I knew not where we were headed, I knew there was no going back. *Edited for grammar/punctuation	Autumn. Leaves are falling down the trees, and if I don't concentrate my eyes, it looks like pieces of amber fall from the sky. I love autumn. Most people say that spring is the most beautiful season of all, but I disagree. To me, walking in the park at autumn is as close to paradise as it can get. Today is no exception of my autumn routine of walking at the park before work. I rarely see people at this time of the day, but I tend to pass a couple of regulars each morning. Today is no different. I've already passed "The Pickpocketer", who still manages to keep his title for a long time, even though everyone knows he likes to pickpocket. I guess he is a master of his craft. And here is "The Gardener", a young lady who enjoys autumn and the park as much as I do and walks around before her work shift. And finally, "The..." Wait, what? "The Forgotten King"?? I notice this drunkard every morning, but I avoid eye contact with him, so I always just assumed that his title is "The Homeless". Wait wait wait, I have to talk with him! "Hey, sir, are you okay?" I asked the homeless man carefully "Howdy howdy howdy, the me-ga... me-ga... germ?" the man half drowned in fallen leaves answers "It is "The Manager", I guess your breakfast was a tad too strong!" I jokingly fix his mistake "I mean when I was younger, I wasn't required to read... I guess you can see my title!" in high voice shouts the homeless man "Yeah, about that... Were you really a king?" "Uhm, son, I have a lot to tell you, but do you know the Kingdom?" "Was it the most infamous organized crime group of all time? If you refer to that, then yes." "Well, the Kingdom had to have a KING, am I right? said the man in a boasting fashion "Wait, you don't want to say, that you were the King?" with a racing heartbeat I whispered "Exactly that, THE KING!" shouted a man with too much alcohol content in his blood "But but, I thought the King was killed?" "Son, you know shit! I got tired of all that bullshit. Kill this, shoot that, smuggle these... I just wanted to live a peaceful life, but because of these bullshit titles everyone sees it was impossible for me to come back into society..." with a hint of sadness muttered the King "Do you call this coming back to the society?" I enquired "You know yourself that these titles update according to our recent activity and occupation. I was "the King". Now I'm "the Forgotten King". One, two, three, whatever the fuck years down the drain I will become "The Drunkard", and by that time I will be old enough for no one to recognize me from my face. I will reform myself this way... Step by step, from the top of one hierarchy, through the rut of the normal hierarchy into..." man's speech abruptly stopped "Into?... What are you exactly planning to do after your title is clean?" "MY DAUGHTER..." the homeless man cried out loud "You have a daughter?" I stuttered as I hugged the Forgotten King "Yes... And she is really into flowers, autumn, and this park..."
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	I was walking home one Winter night, doing the usual and reading out peoples titles in my head. Kevin Johannes - Dog Groomer, Susan Warren - Kickboxer, I passed a man and woman who's title indicated they were siblings, and who were getting a smidge to romantic with each other, I cringed. Then, sitting on the corner I saw The Forgotten King, I stopped in front of him staring at the words floating above his head. He was curled up just inside the opening of an alley clutching an odd choice for a change cup, it looked like aged bronze and very old. After a few moments the old man rose his head and saw me looking at his cup, caught off guard my hand shot for my pocket and fumbled for some change, "Heh" the old man chuckled. "It's alright lad, I'm used to people starring, this is a strange thing for a man like me to have." "Where'd you get it?" I asked trying not to seem rude. The old man sighed "Over seas during the war....a very old war, I doubt you'd believe me if I told you which one...no matter, I'm supposed to give it to someone in Rome but I haven't been able to get it back to where It needs to go, so I'm sort of.. stuck, in a way until that happens." I think to myself what he means by stuck, but I carry on my conversation. "Well I do travel a lot for work, maybe we can talk about it and I can probably help?" The old man stares at nothing for several seconds and focuses back on me. "You... you'd take this burd-..... I mean, cup from me?" Confused, I agree and the old man starts looking more relived than I've ever seen anyone. Fumbling over his words he stands up and shakes my hand. "My good Sir, you have no idea how long I have waited for someone like you to come along, what do they call you?" "I...uh, well my name is Lance" the old man scoffs but quickly tries to hide his reaction. "Ah...well Lance.... thank you for your offering to help me in my ques-.... endeavor. Meet me back here early tomorrow, there are a very specific set of instructions that are involved that I need to prepare." I agree and shake his hand again. As I start going back to my hotel I turn back around "Oh, I didn't get your name" the old man pauses ".....my name? I can't remember the last time I used it, it was... it is Arthur, yeah Arthur!"	Autumn. Leaves are falling down the trees, and if I don't concentrate my eyes, it looks like pieces of amber fall from the sky. I love autumn. Most people say that spring is the most beautiful season of all, but I disagree. To me, walking in the park at autumn is as close to paradise as it can get. Today is no exception of my autumn routine of walking at the park before work. I rarely see people at this time of the day, but I tend to pass a couple of regulars each morning. Today is no different. I've already passed "The Pickpocketer", who still manages to keep his title for a long time, even though everyone knows he likes to pickpocket. I guess he is a master of his craft. And here is "The Gardener", a young lady who enjoys autumn and the park as much as I do and walks around before her work shift. And finally, "The..." Wait, what? "The Forgotten King"?? I notice this drunkard every morning, but I avoid eye contact with him, so I always just assumed that his title is "The Homeless". Wait wait wait, I have to talk with him! "Hey, sir, are you okay?" I asked the homeless man carefully "Howdy howdy howdy, the me-ga... me-ga... germ?" the man half drowned in fallen leaves answers "It is "The Manager", I guess your breakfast was a tad too strong!" I jokingly fix his mistake "I mean when I was younger, I wasn't required to read... I guess you can see my title!" in high voice shouts the homeless man "Yeah, about that... Were you really a king?" "Uhm, son, I have a lot to tell you, but do you know the Kingdom?" "Was it the most infamous organized crime group of all time? If you refer to that, then yes." "Well, the Kingdom had to have a KING, am I right? said the man in a boasting fashion "Wait, you don't want to say, that you were the King?" with a racing heartbeat I whispered "Exactly that, THE KING!" shouted a man with too much alcohol content in his blood "But but, I thought the King was killed?" "Son, you know shit! I got tired of all that bullshit. Kill this, shoot that, smuggle these... I just wanted to live a peaceful life, but because of these bullshit titles everyone sees it was impossible for me to come back into society..." with a hint of sadness muttered the King "Do you call this coming back to the society?" I enquired "You know yourself that these titles update according to our recent activity and occupation. I was "the King". Now I'm "the Forgotten King". One, two, three, whatever the fuck years down the drain I will become "The Drunkard", and by that time I will be old enough for no one to recognize me from my face. I will reform myself this way... Step by step, from the top of one hierarchy, through the rut of the normal hierarchy into..." man's speech abruptly stopped "Into?... What are you exactly planning to do after your title is clean?" "MY DAUGHTER..." the homeless man cried out loud "You have a daughter?" I stuttered as I hugged the Forgotten King "Yes... And she is really into flowers, autumn, and this park..."
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	I stop in my footsteps. "The Forgotten King"... sitting in the streets, a blanket barely covering him. No one seems to notice him but me. Even I almost walked by. The coffee warming my hands suddenly felt heavy. I turn to him. 'Hello, could I offer you this?' He looks up somewhat puzzled. 'Why?' He takes the coffee. 'Thank you.' 'I wanted to help you, that's why.' I bent down to be at his eye level. Deep blue mysterious eyes hid behind dirty, messy hair. 'I wish I could do something for you.' He says. 'I think you already have.' I answer. 'You may not remember, but I remember not so long ago, I used to serve you, you were kind to me.' 'That... can't be...' He looked so confused. His hands wrapped around the warm drink, his eyes moving, searching for answers he couldn't find. 'Maybe I can make people remember you. Maybe I can make you remember you.' 'I appreciate the coffee, girl. But go home, it's cold out. Appreciate what you have, shelter.' 'You once had a castle.' I answered him in my mind. I knew I couldn't convince him, not yet anyway. So I stood up. Knowing now why I was the only one who could see. It was because I should help everyone remember, the Great, Forgotten King.	Autumn. Leaves are falling down the trees, and if I don't concentrate my eyes, it looks like pieces of amber fall from the sky. I love autumn. Most people say that spring is the most beautiful season of all, but I disagree. To me, walking in the park at autumn is as close to paradise as it can get. Today is no exception of my autumn routine of walking at the park before work. I rarely see people at this time of the day, but I tend to pass a couple of regulars each morning. Today is no different. I've already passed "The Pickpocketer", who still manages to keep his title for a long time, even though everyone knows he likes to pickpocket. I guess he is a master of his craft. And here is "The Gardener", a young lady who enjoys autumn and the park as much as I do and walks around before her work shift. And finally, "The..." Wait, what? "The Forgotten King"?? I notice this drunkard every morning, but I avoid eye contact with him, so I always just assumed that his title is "The Homeless". Wait wait wait, I have to talk with him! "Hey, sir, are you okay?" I asked the homeless man carefully "Howdy howdy howdy, the me-ga... me-ga... germ?" the man half drowned in fallen leaves answers "It is "The Manager", I guess your breakfast was a tad too strong!" I jokingly fix his mistake "I mean when I was younger, I wasn't required to read... I guess you can see my title!" in high voice shouts the homeless man "Yeah, about that... Were you really a king?" "Uhm, son, I have a lot to tell you, but do you know the Kingdom?" "Was it the most infamous organized crime group of all time? If you refer to that, then yes." "Well, the Kingdom had to have a KING, am I right? said the man in a boasting fashion "Wait, you don't want to say, that you were the King?" with a racing heartbeat I whispered "Exactly that, THE KING!" shouted a man with too much alcohol content in his blood "But but, I thought the King was killed?" "Son, you know shit! I got tired of all that bullshit. Kill this, shoot that, smuggle these... I just wanted to live a peaceful life, but because of these bullshit titles everyone sees it was impossible for me to come back into society..." with a hint of sadness muttered the King "Do you call this coming back to the society?" I enquired "You know yourself that these titles update according to our recent activity and occupation. I was "the King". Now I'm "the Forgotten King". One, two, three, whatever the fuck years down the drain I will become "The Drunkard", and by that time I will be old enough for no one to recognize me from my face. I will reform myself this way... Step by step, from the top of one hierarchy, through the rut of the normal hierarchy into..." man's speech abruptly stopped "Into?... What are you exactly planning to do after your title is clean?" "MY DAUGHTER..." the homeless man cried out loud "You have a daughter?" I stuttered as I hugged the Forgotten King "Yes... And she is really into flowers, autumn, and this park..."
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	David was opening up his shop when I arrived that morning. He was a fine book seller, always had the most compelling tales of heroism and adventure. I browsed his shop for only an hour that morning, I had too many books already. I looked around the shop aimlessly as he bagged my purchases, my eyes settled only momentarily on the words above the old man’s head. The Shopkeeper The rest of the town was waking up as I started to walk back home. Sarah, The Baker, handed me a loaf as I walked by. She was always generous. We were good friends, both of us had taken on our family businesses and shared the same struggles of keeping up with the newer town shops. I continued walking back home, greeting everyone from Paul, The Sheriff, to Anna, The Harpist. They all had the same titles above them, day after day. In white, neat penmanship, simple titles that were true to their characters. I had started to see them one day, when I was young. I had asked my father about them, but he had simply waved them off as part of my youthful imagination. “They’ll go away when you’re older.” That had been over twenty-years ago. I was now thirty-two, and the titles were still there. I didn’t know what my title was, I would sometimes go sit by the lake, to see if there was anything in my reflection. I never had one, not even when my father had died and I had become the town’s blacksmith. Father had always had a distaste for my interest in books, he said reading was for scholars. I had struggled to learn to read, since my mother had died when I was young, and Father did not know how. I learned one day though, that the shapes and lines that I was seeing above people were words. They had meaning, and gave people names beyond those given to them at birth. The bookkeeper had taught me how to read in exchange for a solid lock for his shop. I had learned how to make the lock from one of the first books I read. I was out of the main part of the town, there were fewer people with their shops open and even fewer out in the streets. The Midwife, The Priest, and The Shoemaker were the only ones I saw as I walked by. There was a man though who sat outside of the town’s church. He sat there in the cold with nothing but a single shirt and pants. He wore no shoes and his black beard was unkempt. I was getting closer and noticed his dirty face, but there was no other way. I had to walk past the church to get to my shop. That was when I noticed his title. The Forgotten King. I kept walking, but my pace slowed. No one had ever had that title before, no one had ever had a ridiculous title. I turned to look at him casually as I passed, pretending to be looking all around at the surroundings. I felt my eyes linger on the words above his head. Suddenly the homeless man’s head shot up. He looked me in the eyes and I was taken aback by how blue and clear they were. “You!” He jumped up from the steps of the church and I stopped, not sure if I wanted this man to know where I lived. “May I help you sir?” I couldn’t stop glancing at his title, it wasn’t in white text like most people’s. The Forgotten King was written in a faded grey, almost as if it was a sign that had been painted and then exposed to time and the elements. He leaned in closer to my face and I held my breath, not wanting to smell the stench off of a homeless man. I wanted to push him away, but it seemed wrong to be rude to another man in front of the town church. “Yes, yes. I knew you were here.” He muttered, looking at me from above. He was taller than me, and bigger despite the clothes of a homeless man. It was rare for someone bigger than the blacksmith to come to town. “Do I know you, sir?” I took a small breath when he leaned away, thankfully not catching a whiff of whatever his unkempt beard was probably giving off. I had seen a piece of moldy cheese in it. “No, but I know you.” He pointed at a spot above my head, “You’re The Titlemaker.”	Autumn. Leaves are falling down the trees, and if I don't concentrate my eyes, it looks like pieces of amber fall from the sky. I love autumn. Most people say that spring is the most beautiful season of all, but I disagree. To me, walking in the park at autumn is as close to paradise as it can get. Today is no exception of my autumn routine of walking at the park before work. I rarely see people at this time of the day, but I tend to pass a couple of regulars each morning. Today is no different. I've already passed "The Pickpocketer", who still manages to keep his title for a long time, even though everyone knows he likes to pickpocket. I guess he is a master of his craft. And here is "The Gardener", a young lady who enjoys autumn and the park as much as I do and walks around before her work shift. And finally, "The..." Wait, what? "The Forgotten King"?? I notice this drunkard every morning, but I avoid eye contact with him, so I always just assumed that his title is "The Homeless". Wait wait wait, I have to talk with him! "Hey, sir, are you okay?" I asked the homeless man carefully "Howdy howdy howdy, the me-ga... me-ga... germ?" the man half drowned in fallen leaves answers "It is "The Manager", I guess your breakfast was a tad too strong!" I jokingly fix his mistake "I mean when I was younger, I wasn't required to read... I guess you can see my title!" in high voice shouts the homeless man "Yeah, about that... Were you really a king?" "Uhm, son, I have a lot to tell you, but do you know the Kingdom?" "Was it the most infamous organized crime group of all time? If you refer to that, then yes." "Well, the Kingdom had to have a KING, am I right? said the man in a boasting fashion "Wait, you don't want to say, that you were the King?" with a racing heartbeat I whispered "Exactly that, THE KING!" shouted a man with too much alcohol content in his blood "But but, I thought the King was killed?" "Son, you know shit! I got tired of all that bullshit. Kill this, shoot that, smuggle these... I just wanted to live a peaceful life, but because of these bullshit titles everyone sees it was impossible for me to come back into society..." with a hint of sadness muttered the King "Do you call this coming back to the society?" I enquired "You know yourself that these titles update according to our recent activity and occupation. I was "the King". Now I'm "the Forgotten King". One, two, three, whatever the fuck years down the drain I will become "The Drunkard", and by that time I will be old enough for no one to recognize me from my face. I will reform myself this way... Step by step, from the top of one hierarchy, through the rut of the normal hierarchy into..." man's speech abruptly stopped "Into?... What are you exactly planning to do after your title is clean?" "MY DAUGHTER..." the homeless man cried out loud "You have a daughter?" I stuttered as I hugged the Forgotten King "Yes... And she is really into flowers, autumn, and this park..."
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	Long ago, there was the king with no name, ruler of all he surveyed. With a boisterous self-confidence befitting of the position, he fought all those who dared challenge him. The gods themselves, threatened by his increasing power, put a curse on him. He would fade into insecurity, and find himself without anything but the clothes on his back for the rest eternity. Not too long after, the masses began to revolt against the royalty, and he found wave over wave of peasants assaulting his palace, demanding reparations for the decades of injustice that they had suffered. At the sight of his own people rejecting him, he fled, far, far away, and never looked back. A millennium later, he ended up in New York City, doing what everyone else in the god-forsaken city did; mind his own business. Drinking from a bottle of vodka, he grimaced, as he knew that there was no could get drunk. The curse prevented him altering his state of mind in any way, so that he couldn’t escape from his life through drugs. On this particularly average day, something slightly unusual happened. A rich looking boy, looking about seventeen years old, approached him. The king snorted; if he was looking to give pity, the kid had another thing coming. Hesitating for a couple of seconds, the boy asked, “Who… are you?” A little bit confused at the question, the king took a moment to contemplate. With a scowl on his face, he replied, “Just another homeless man. Now bugger off, kid.” He took a swig of his drink and flipped the kid the bird. The kid, looking a bit confused and annoyed, said, “No, I mean… why are you a forgotten king?” The king took a spit take. “Who told you that?”, he asked sharply. “Nobody told me, it’s just that… well, this’ll take a while to explain.” The strange boy took a seat on the curb next to the king. “Ever since I can remember, I’ve been able to see these… things, titles, float above people. Some people have professions, others have traits, but it’s always been things that you could figure out about them just from looking. This is the first time that I’ve seen anything like… yours.” “Ah.” The king smiled knowingly. “You, too, have been cursed by the gods. The curse of knowledge, I see. I, myself, have the curse of immortality. Fate must have brought us together.” With a bemused frown, the kid said, “What gods? And, no offense, but I don’t believe in the fate nonsense.” Laughing heartily for the first time in many years, the Forgotten King answered, “No, not the idea of fate. The person named Fate, who challenges the gods’ machinations.” He stood up. “And it looks like the next war is going to start.” The king looked to the boy expectantly. “Are you ready to fight some gods?”	Autumn. Leaves are falling down the trees, and if I don't concentrate my eyes, it looks like pieces of amber fall from the sky. I love autumn. Most people say that spring is the most beautiful season of all, but I disagree. To me, walking in the park at autumn is as close to paradise as it can get. Today is no exception of my autumn routine of walking at the park before work. I rarely see people at this time of the day, but I tend to pass a couple of regulars each morning. Today is no different. I've already passed "The Pickpocketer", who still manages to keep his title for a long time, even though everyone knows he likes to pickpocket. I guess he is a master of his craft. And here is "The Gardener", a young lady who enjoys autumn and the park as much as I do and walks around before her work shift. And finally, "The..." Wait, what? "The Forgotten King"?? I notice this drunkard every morning, but I avoid eye contact with him, so I always just assumed that his title is "The Homeless". Wait wait wait, I have to talk with him! "Hey, sir, are you okay?" I asked the homeless man carefully "Howdy howdy howdy, the me-ga... me-ga... germ?" the man half drowned in fallen leaves answers "It is "The Manager", I guess your breakfast was a tad too strong!" I jokingly fix his mistake "I mean when I was younger, I wasn't required to read... I guess you can see my title!" in high voice shouts the homeless man "Yeah, about that... Were you really a king?" "Uhm, son, I have a lot to tell you, but do you know the Kingdom?" "Was it the most infamous organized crime group of all time? If you refer to that, then yes." "Well, the Kingdom had to have a KING, am I right? said the man in a boasting fashion "Wait, you don't want to say, that you were the King?" with a racing heartbeat I whispered "Exactly that, THE KING!" shouted a man with too much alcohol content in his blood "But but, I thought the King was killed?" "Son, you know shit! I got tired of all that bullshit. Kill this, shoot that, smuggle these... I just wanted to live a peaceful life, but because of these bullshit titles everyone sees it was impossible for me to come back into society..." with a hint of sadness muttered the King "Do you call this coming back to the society?" I enquired "You know yourself that these titles update according to our recent activity and occupation. I was "the King". Now I'm "the Forgotten King". One, two, three, whatever the fuck years down the drain I will become "The Drunkard", and by that time I will be old enough for no one to recognize me from my face. I will reform myself this way... Step by step, from the top of one hierarchy, through the rut of the normal hierarchy into..." man's speech abruptly stopped "Into?... What are you exactly planning to do after your title is clean?" "MY DAUGHTER..." the homeless man cried out loud "You have a daughter?" I stuttered as I hugged the Forgotten King "Yes... And she is really into flowers, autumn, and this park..."
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	I have a peculiar talent. I know, there are lots of folks that say that. Most of them are people who can, I don't know, play the violin with their feet or do origami with their tongue or something like that. Compared with mine, those talents look commonplace. When I was a kid, video games were all I cared about. If my teachers wanted to reach me, they had to think in videogame terms. My math teacher reached me through Minecraft. So did my science teacher. My creative writing teacher suggested I write a fan fic based around Mario Kart and, after that, TF2. My Social Sciences teacher won me over using UnderTale. My history teacher earned my interest through World of Tanks and even went so far as to gamify her subject, setting up achievements I could earn points for and prizes I could buy with them (usually other resource books or websites). I think I was probably twelve or thirteen when I starting seeing people as video games. At first, it was pretty simple. The school principal, Mr. Farnum, came to lunch one day with the words "The Principal" hanging over his head in big bold letters, like a video game title. He was concentrating on getting his lunch, though, or he'd have seen me staring. My best friend did notice, though. "What is it, Bill?" he asked. "Does Fart'em have TP on his shoe or something?" I turned and nearly snorted my milk all over him. The words over his head were "The Nerd." I tried to explain, but he thought I was making a stupid joke at his expense. Needless to say, we weren't friends for much longer. Years have gone by since that first time. Every day, there were more and more titles. Nearly everyone has them now. Some are really simple. During the presidential elections, for example, I knew Donald Trump would win because his title was "The President." Some are more complicated. Like the time when I was at the grocery store and saw this ordinary-looking person in the check-out line with the title "The Bank Robber" hanging over him. I placed an anonymous call to the police over that one. I later saw him get arrested on the news. I guess they'd been having a hard time figuring out who he was. The other day, I was out walking my dog home from the local grocery store when I passed an old homeless man. He was dressed in an oversized, old, windbreaker with ragged blankets tucked into it for insulation and sitting half-asleep inside a doorway. He had a sign made from the bottom of an old cardboard box. It read, "Homeless. Desperate. Anything helps." His title, however was, "The Forgotten King." I was so busy staring that I tripped on a crack in the sidewalk and almost landed on my poor samoyed. Picking myself up, I went to sit next to the guy. Digging around in my groceries, I pulled out some bread and cheese and made a quick sandwich. I nudged the guy awake and handed it to him. He took the makeshift sandwich and ate it like he hadn't eaten in a long time. "My name's William," I offered, watching the man eat. "Friends call me Bill." I stretched out a hand and he stared at it like he'd never seen a hand before. He didn't stop eating and he didn't take my hand or offer me his name in return. I looked up at his title again, wondering if I'd imagined it somehow. "The Forgotten King" still hung over him as clear as daylight. "Look," I offered, unable to ignore those words, "I have a spare bedroom you can use." He stared at me even more. "Come on, sir," I added, standing up and offering my hand again, "I can't just leave you here." Hesitantly, the man reached up and took my hand. "Thank you, William," he mumbled through his matted beard. "You have no idea how much I appreciate this." I chuckled softly as I helped him gather his meager belongings. "I think I have a general idea."	Autumn. Leaves are falling down the trees, and if I don't concentrate my eyes, it looks like pieces of amber fall from the sky. I love autumn. Most people say that spring is the most beautiful season of all, but I disagree. To me, walking in the park at autumn is as close to paradise as it can get. Today is no exception of my autumn routine of walking at the park before work. I rarely see people at this time of the day, but I tend to pass a couple of regulars each morning. Today is no different. I've already passed "The Pickpocketer", who still manages to keep his title for a long time, even though everyone knows he likes to pickpocket. I guess he is a master of his craft. And here is "The Gardener", a young lady who enjoys autumn and the park as much as I do and walks around before her work shift. And finally, "The..." Wait, what? "The Forgotten King"?? I notice this drunkard every morning, but I avoid eye contact with him, so I always just assumed that his title is "The Homeless". Wait wait wait, I have to talk with him! "Hey, sir, are you okay?" I asked the homeless man carefully "Howdy howdy howdy, the me-ga... me-ga... germ?" the man half drowned in fallen leaves answers "It is "The Manager", I guess your breakfast was a tad too strong!" I jokingly fix his mistake "I mean when I was younger, I wasn't required to read... I guess you can see my title!" in high voice shouts the homeless man "Yeah, about that... Were you really a king?" "Uhm, son, I have a lot to tell you, but do you know the Kingdom?" "Was it the most infamous organized crime group of all time? If you refer to that, then yes." "Well, the Kingdom had to have a KING, am I right? said the man in a boasting fashion "Wait, you don't want to say, that you were the King?" with a racing heartbeat I whispered "Exactly that, THE KING!" shouted a man with too much alcohol content in his blood "But but, I thought the King was killed?" "Son, you know shit! I got tired of all that bullshit. Kill this, shoot that, smuggle these... I just wanted to live a peaceful life, but because of these bullshit titles everyone sees it was impossible for me to come back into society..." with a hint of sadness muttered the King "Do you call this coming back to the society?" I enquired "You know yourself that these titles update according to our recent activity and occupation. I was "the King". Now I'm "the Forgotten King". One, two, three, whatever the fuck years down the drain I will become "The Drunkard", and by that time I will be old enough for no one to recognize me from my face. I will reform myself this way... Step by step, from the top of one hierarchy, through the rut of the normal hierarchy into..." man's speech abruptly stopped "Into?... What are you exactly planning to do after your title is clean?" "MY DAUGHTER..." the homeless man cried out loud "You have a daughter?" I stuttered as I hugged the Forgotten King "Yes... And she is really into flowers, autumn, and this park..."
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	As I walked my usual way home from work, I went about everything normally. I nodded at The Baker in her little shop as she wiped down the counters. I reminded myself, like I did every day, that I needed to pay that lady a visit on a lunch break--she looked like she didn't get a lot of business, but everything in the window looked delicious. Next, I went about pointedly staring at the red hand at the traffic light and ignoring The Prophet as he spouted the same old "repent or be damned" nonsense he always spouted on the corner to whomever was in earshot. When I finally crossed, I made the "sorry; I know" face to those passing me, looking really uncomfortable to have to walk next to that guy. I, as always, didn't look toward the freeway underpass, as I came to find that eye contact made me a target of the homeless people there. It was really close to a shelter, but the shelter had its limits, so there were always loiterers outside and under the bridge. However, a title I didn't recognize was shining from under there, and I only caught it with the corner of my eye. I slowed down and looked up just enough to read it. &#x200B; The Forgotten King. &#x200B; Huh. &#x200B; I'd never seen anything like that before. &#x200B; I thought about just picking my pace back up and making it home in time to get a bit of laundry started before going to the gym, but my interest was officially piqued. &#x200B; I found myself walking toward the man, trying to figure out how I was going to go about this. What was I even going to say? Before I even fully realized it, I was standing in front of him. He had been huddled under a worn blanket and didn't really notice me until I was right there. I got the impression that he was very used to people passing literally right next to him without doing anything; there's no way he hadn't heard my footsteps. He peered up at me from under his hat. I was immediately struck by how intelligent his eyes were. They were bright. Sad, but bright. &#x200B; "Can I help you, child?" he asked. His voice was worn and tired, but there was a strength to it that I wasn't anticipating. &#x200B; I found myself feeling rather embarrassed. "Oh, um... I'm sorry. I just wanted to see how you were doing this evening." &#x200B; He seemed a little surprised, but didn't skip a beat. "I'm getting a bit cold, but I'm okay. Thanks for asking." &#x200B; "Um... is there anything I can get for you?" &#x200B; He chuckled slightly. "I don't know how to go about answering that question, honestly." &#x200B; I felt my face flush. Of course, there were probably lots of things I could get for him. "Are you hungry?" &#x200B; He smiled faintly. "Actually, I am doing all right. Just a bit cold." &#x200B; "Well, I can give you some hand warmers, if you'd like? I always carry a few in my bag." At least it was something. &#x200B; He gave me a genuine smile, and I immediately felt happy. It was the oddest thing. "Yes, I would very much appreciate that," he stated, reaching out a bare hand from under his blanket. I pulled out two of the little packets from my bag, placed them in the outstretched, dirty hand, and watched them disappear behind the fleece. "Thank you very much," he said. &#x200B; It was really bothering me that there didn't seem to be anything special about him. The curiosity was almost infuriating. Surely, if he was a king, forgotten or not, he'd give me some kind of tell. Yet... nothing. &#x200B; "Are you sure there's nothing else you absolutely need tonight?" I asked helplessly. &#x200B; He chuckled without mirth, and it seemed like it pierced my soul. I had never thought about how asking how I could help someone could be selfish thing. He absolutely needed a warm place to sleep, a shower, and someone to really care for him. Yet, we both knew that I would not be offering those things. I wanted some trivial thing to be able to do for him, to... what? Check off a "I've been good today" box on my daily list? I didn't even know. Either way, my face was so flushed that I didn't feel the cold on it anymore. &#x200B; He smiled sadly, but his eyes didn't dim. "It's all right. I know. I appreciate that you gave me the hand warmers. They're already doing wonders for me." &#x200B; "I'm... I'm sorry." I didn't know what exactly I was apologizing for. I guess there were lots of things; I was sorry he was in his situation, though I didn't even really know what that situation was aside from needing a home. I knew he was fallen somehow... his tag told me that. I was sorry that I wasn't a better person, too; was it really all that hard to invite him into my house for a least a shower? What's the worst that could happen? He'd steal my mismatched silverware and try to sell it? Or... he could kill me... I guess? But, that didn't really make sense, because it's not like he'd get much out of that. Yet... I still wouldn't. We both knew it. "I don't carry loose change with me," I stammered. "But, I do have some gift cards for Starbucks if you'd like them?" &#x200B; "I don't want your money," he muttered as he looked down. I could tell he was clutching those hand warmers really hard under the blanket. "Thank you." &#x200B; There was an awkward silence for a bit, and then he looked back up at me with a sudden hope. "You know what you could do for me?" he asked. &#x200B; "What is it?" I truly wanted to help him in that moment... within reason of a stranger helping a stranger... I guess. &#x200B; "Do you think you could pray for me?" &#x200B; I was instantly uncomfortable. Like, he might have gotten a better reaction from me had he actually asked to sleep on my sofa. "Oh, um..." was all I could muster. &#x200B; His eyes dimmed. It was devastating. He looked down at the street. "You don't believe in God, do you?" &#x200B; "I... uh..." What to say? "I... I don't know what I believe." &#x200B; He nodded. "That's something I hear a lot. I hope you discover what you believe some day." &#x200B; I shifted my weight and coughed. "I... I hope the hand warmers last a while. And I hope you don't get too cold." He didn't answer, and he didn't look up. I felt so stupid. He'd asked for a prayer. Honestly, was that so hard? Even if there wasn't anyone listening, what harm would talking to my empty room be? "Look, maybe I can muster up a prayer for you tonight. I'm really sorry I can't do anything more." I instantly knew that was a lie, and I'll bet he did as well. But, socially, I think it was true enough that we both would just accept it as truth all around. &#x200B; He nodded again. "Thanks." &#x200B; I went home. I got some laundry into the washer. Then, just like that, everything was like normal again. The Gym Rat was attempting to speak to The Model when I got to the gym for my nightly workout, just like normal. The Manager told me that rent was due tomorrow, like he always does on the last day of the month. And, just like normal, I went to sleep without saying a prayer. &#x200B; The next day, it was normal again, except I wondered if I would see that Forgotten King again. All day at work, I was distracted, hoping he had found a way to be warmer. Maybe the shelter had a space open up? Maybe someone better than I had stopped by and offered something else? &#x200B; On my walk home, past the bakery I forgot to go to once again, I found myself looking up more than normal, trying to get a glimpse of the underpass before I got there. &#x200B; Then, a break in the monotony pulled me out of my thoughts. At the street corner, I realized that I didn't hear anyone shouting at me. Nobody was reminding me of sins I didn't commit or hellfire I didn't believe in. &#x200B; I turned, and I saw The Prophet sitting under the awning of the corner building, sobbing uncontrollably and repeating through his sobs to nobody in particular, "God is dead, God is dead." &#x200B; And, in that moment, I felt my heart stop, and I knew that I wouldn't be talking to The Forgotten King again.	Autumn. Leaves are falling down the trees, and if I don't concentrate my eyes, it looks like pieces of amber fall from the sky. I love autumn. Most people say that spring is the most beautiful season of all, but I disagree. To me, walking in the park at autumn is as close to paradise as it can get. Today is no exception of my autumn routine of walking at the park before work. I rarely see people at this time of the day, but I tend to pass a couple of regulars each morning. Today is no different. I've already passed "The Pickpocketer", who still manages to keep his title for a long time, even though everyone knows he likes to pickpocket. I guess he is a master of his craft. And here is "The Gardener", a young lady who enjoys autumn and the park as much as I do and walks around before her work shift. And finally, "The..." Wait, what? "The Forgotten King"?? I notice this drunkard every morning, but I avoid eye contact with him, so I always just assumed that his title is "The Homeless". Wait wait wait, I have to talk with him! "Hey, sir, are you okay?" I asked the homeless man carefully "Howdy howdy howdy, the me-ga... me-ga... germ?" the man half drowned in fallen leaves answers "It is "The Manager", I guess your breakfast was a tad too strong!" I jokingly fix his mistake "I mean when I was younger, I wasn't required to read... I guess you can see my title!" in high voice shouts the homeless man "Yeah, about that... Were you really a king?" "Uhm, son, I have a lot to tell you, but do you know the Kingdom?" "Was it the most infamous organized crime group of all time? If you refer to that, then yes." "Well, the Kingdom had to have a KING, am I right? said the man in a boasting fashion "Wait, you don't want to say, that you were the King?" with a racing heartbeat I whispered "Exactly that, THE KING!" shouted a man with too much alcohol content in his blood "But but, I thought the King was killed?" "Son, you know shit! I got tired of all that bullshit. Kill this, shoot that, smuggle these... I just wanted to live a peaceful life, but because of these bullshit titles everyone sees it was impossible for me to come back into society..." with a hint of sadness muttered the King "Do you call this coming back to the society?" I enquired "You know yourself that these titles update according to our recent activity and occupation. I was "the King". Now I'm "the Forgotten King". One, two, three, whatever the fuck years down the drain I will become "The Drunkard", and by that time I will be old enough for no one to recognize me from my face. I will reform myself this way... Step by step, from the top of one hierarchy, through the rut of the normal hierarchy into..." man's speech abruptly stopped "Into?... What are you exactly planning to do after your title is clean?" "MY DAUGHTER..." the homeless man cried out loud "You have a daughter?" I stuttered as I hugged the Forgotten King "Yes... And she is really into flowers, autumn, and this park..."
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	Everyone has a title. I’ve always been able to see them, but it didn’t take long to figure out nobody else could. Mom heard me sounding out the text shortly after I learned to read, and asked me what I was doing. When I told her, she laughed and said something about how kids had such vivid imaginations. She didn’t laugh when I asked what a philanderer was when dad got home that night. After that, I learned to keep my mouth shut. After a couple decades of seeing titles, I don’t really pay much attention to them anymore. Most of them aren’t all that interesting: “Jeff’s Mom”, “The Mediocre Rapper”, “The Mayonnaise Eater”, “Incel 554280”, etc. Today, though, I see one that made me do a double take. “The Forgotten King”. “Hello, can I help you?” He asks politely. “Are you looking for a specific book today?” I glance around the store, remembering why I’m here. I saw this used book shop a few weeks ago, and thought I might be able to find a gift for Mom here. She likes old novels. Says they have more character. “Umm, yeah.” I mumble, trying to keep my eyes on his face, not the distracting title hovering over his head. “Do you, uh, have anything by John Smith?” So sue me. It’s hard to think of a fake name when you’re distracted. His eyelid twitches as he stares at me. “Are you an idiot?” “Uh...” I avoid his gaze, my eyes wandering around the store. “It’s possible. I’ve been called that often enough.” Desperate to change the subject, my eyes fall on another customer browsing in the cooking section. “What in the blazes is The Order of Tesswold?” Next thing I know, he’s grabbing me by the collar and hauling me over the counter. “Who are you?Where did you hear that name?” Struggling for an explanation, my eyes flicker to a mirror, to the title hovering over my own head. I’ve never shared it with anyone before, but I’ve never met anyone with a title as strange as mine, either. “I’m The King’s Eye.”	Autumn. Leaves are falling down the trees, and if I don't concentrate my eyes, it looks like pieces of amber fall from the sky. I love autumn. Most people say that spring is the most beautiful season of all, but I disagree. To me, walking in the park at autumn is as close to paradise as it can get. Today is no exception of my autumn routine of walking at the park before work. I rarely see people at this time of the day, but I tend to pass a couple of regulars each morning. Today is no different. I've already passed "The Pickpocketer", who still manages to keep his title for a long time, even though everyone knows he likes to pickpocket. I guess he is a master of his craft. And here is "The Gardener", a young lady who enjoys autumn and the park as much as I do and walks around before her work shift. And finally, "The..." Wait, what? "The Forgotten King"?? I notice this drunkard every morning, but I avoid eye contact with him, so I always just assumed that his title is "The Homeless". Wait wait wait, I have to talk with him! "Hey, sir, are you okay?" I asked the homeless man carefully "Howdy howdy howdy, the me-ga... me-ga... germ?" the man half drowned in fallen leaves answers "It is "The Manager", I guess your breakfast was a tad too strong!" I jokingly fix his mistake "I mean when I was younger, I wasn't required to read... I guess you can see my title!" in high voice shouts the homeless man "Yeah, about that... Were you really a king?" "Uhm, son, I have a lot to tell you, but do you know the Kingdom?" "Was it the most infamous organized crime group of all time? If you refer to that, then yes." "Well, the Kingdom had to have a KING, am I right? said the man in a boasting fashion "Wait, you don't want to say, that you were the King?" with a racing heartbeat I whispered "Exactly that, THE KING!" shouted a man with too much alcohol content in his blood "But but, I thought the King was killed?" "Son, you know shit! I got tired of all that bullshit. Kill this, shoot that, smuggle these... I just wanted to live a peaceful life, but because of these bullshit titles everyone sees it was impossible for me to come back into society..." with a hint of sadness muttered the King "Do you call this coming back to the society?" I enquired "You know yourself that these titles update according to our recent activity and occupation. I was "the King". Now I'm "the Forgotten King". One, two, three, whatever the fuck years down the drain I will become "The Drunkard", and by that time I will be old enough for no one to recognize me from my face. I will reform myself this way... Step by step, from the top of one hierarchy, through the rut of the normal hierarchy into..." man's speech abruptly stopped "Into?... What are you exactly planning to do after your title is clean?" "MY DAUGHTER..." the homeless man cried out loud "You have a daughter?" I stuttered as I hugged the Forgotten King "Yes... And she is really into flowers, autumn, and this park..."
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	I once dated a girl who had the title, "The Destroyer". It didn't take me long to realize how and why she deserved that name. After a series of fights and near-death experiences, we broke off our relationship and decided it would be best if we didn't remain friends. I remember the night that I left her apartment, when everything had ended, and I was left single on the city street, with no place to go except my boring apartment in Queens. I walked down 10th avenue, looking for a bar and trying to find any reason to not go back home. &#x200B; A homeless man was standing at the street corner a block ahead and yelling something about coupons. In a normal situation, I would have jay-walked across the avenue and ignored the situation, but my mood requested that I encounter some kind of craziness, so I approached the man until I could smell the layer of week-old piss on his hefty winter jacket. &#x200B; "Coupons are a scam by businesses to make you addicted to their product" he was yelling. What happened next was an accident - but it turned out to be more insightful than I expected. I bumped against his arm that he had stuck out into the crowd, and when I looked into his eyes to offer some kind of chastisement, I saw his title and was shocked. "The Forgotten King." &#x200B; "What did you say, boy?" the man asked me, his voice now quieter yet more threatening. I didn't realize it, but I had muttered his title out loud. &#x200B; "Nothing, sorry. &#x200B; "No, what did you say? You afraid of me?" &#x200B; "No, of course not. I'm sorry, you just look familiar." &#x200B; He gave me a look with the complete understanding that I was lying to him. Then, he pulled a grate from behind a New York City trash can and sat on it, directing his gaze directly up at me. I didn't know what to do until he took another object out from behind the trash can. At first, it looked like a dusty piece of garbage, but when he blew on it, a gleaming lining of gold appeared, and he stood up and placed the crown on my head. The two of us stood there, staring at each other without saying anything. Then he gave me a big, near-toothless and gum-filled smile and said, "now you understand." &#x200B; I nodded, letting the tears stream down my cheeks. &#x200B; "Now you understand."	[Poem] Joseph sees the Forgotten King Surrounded by little bottles of drink King looks up to see what he brings As he sits in the dew of the spring Joseph asks him “Are you the King?” To the Forgotten King, clearly aging The king smiles and gives him a wink “Indeed I am, beneath this stink” “What happened to you?” Asks the boy The old king’s face fills with joy “I went to search for a beautiful thing A love that carried me on silver wing” The boy, confused, casts his doubt “But you left behind all that clout!” The king looks dreamily, far away “The price I did sorely pay But I found my love, what can I say?” Edit: I’m on mobile please excuse formatting until I get the chance to fix it
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	Rain pattered the street as I walked hurriedly through town, listening for the familiar creak of the large wooden shingle that hung rusty and paint chipped outside the town's only inn. The sun had already set and the oil lamps had long since fizzled out in the storm. Three days it had been since I set out from Port Ariff. Three days without food and without rest. My only hope was that I was not too late. Halver's words still echoed in my head, "Give up, mate. He's long dead by now. You're wasting your time and gold on a fool's errand." Would he be right in the end? It was true that I had spent nearly everything I had left on the ticket back to Port Ariff from Brackdale, where false news had sent me to regrettable misfortune. It was also true that this journey had now spanned the better part of seven years and had claimed more of my sanity than the first thirty years of my life had done. But this last clue had become the spark to reignite the kind of flames that could whip thru the Echoing Forest in a single breath, leaving nothing but an ashen wasteland littered with the bones of every living thing that couldn't see the future as I could... Or would the spark ignite nothing, and leave my spirit just as desolate and my resolve just as empty? I shook my head and put that thought behind me. Now was not the time to entertain doubt. That cruel enchanter had been casting his shadow over me for far too long and now I was going to rid myself of him for good. Peering through rain-flecked windows along the way, I searched for the title of the one for whom I had long been after. "Apothecary"... "Bardmaid"... "Local Hero" ... and the titles of dozens of other ordinary citizens shone like little candles over their owners' heads. I heard creaking of rusty hinges that told me the inn was not far up the road. I hurried my footsteps and peered once more around the deserted street before turning off the walkway into the entrance of the Barebrook Inn. Shaking the rain from my cloak, I turned the handle of the large oaken door that held shut the warmth of the fires blazing inside the inn. Had I not been familiar with the town of Barebrook, I might've expected a cozy, quiet atmosphere such as I had found in many other small towns nestled in the foothills of the Woven Mountains. But I was no newcomer. I traded the roar of the storm outside for the roar of the crowd of people inside. Nearly every bench and chair was occupied and many were left standing in the aisles and along the walls of the inn. Small crowds of folks huddled together in corners and near the square wooden pillars that held up the vaulted roof of the inn. Two large chandeliers hung from the rafters at either end of the main hall and dotted along the walls were several lamps that provided a soft golden glow to the atmosphere of the place. Music was coming from the far end of the hall where it seemed local and traveling bards and troubadours were trading songwork. I wormed my way through the crowd up to the bar and looked for the owner's title. "Innkeeper Galen" was standing down the left-hand side of the bar by the staircase that led up to the second floor rooms. He was engrossed in conversation with a man, but I caught his eye and he gave me a nod by way of a greeting. I nodded back and reached over the bar for a glass, filled it with ale, left a few coins behind on the shelf, and turned to find a place to sit and wait. Over in a corner opposite the bar, there was a table being vacated by a group of five that were laughing and stumbling while putting on their coats. I rushed to sit before anyone else could claim the bench. From this spot, I could view the bar, the door, and the balcony of the second floor. "Had he already come and gone?" I thought worriedly. Again, I shook the thought from my head. It was still early on in the evening and I only knew I had to be here by midnight. Surely he hadn't been here and left yet. Over the next two hours, the crowd had thinned somewhat. I occupied my time by scanning the titles of the occupants of the inn, looking for ones I hadn't seen before. It was rare; most of the time, local inns were teeming with "shopkeepers", "town guards", and the occasional "Town Drunk" who spent nearly as much time at the bar as he did away from it. In Barebrook, that was Elford, who was presently resting in a booth with his head slumped against the wall, his empty mug still clutched in his fist. Having memorized everyone currently in attendance, I pulled out the old notebook I had been carrying since last summer and reviewed the three pages of notes that held the information that had led me back here. It seemed strange now how many times I had read them, and yet I had not had the sense to realize that it meant this place. Only after everything I'd learned over the past year had it become clear that the key had been hiding right under my nose. I looked up and saw that I was being watched. An old man seated two rows away from me was staring straight into my eyes. He did not blink and did not turn away as the vague shapes of bodies moved between us. An invisible hand gripped my insides as I tucked the notebook back into my pocket. I drained the last of my drink and imagined it filling my heart with courage as much as it filled my stomach. I stood up and met his eyes again as I walked toward the table where he sat. Above his head glowed the words "Wandering Beggar". If I was right about what I thought I knew, this was no random street urchin. His gaze followed me all the way to his table and he made no motion to stop me sitting down. His unblinking eyes unnerved me as much as staring down a starving bear, but I showed no hint of cowardice. If the rumors were true, and I made a false move, I never would've made it out of that inn alive. Slowly, I pulled out the notebook and laid it on the table between us. For the first time, his gaze shifted from me down to the old and tattered volume and for what seemed like minutes, he stared without speaking. Finally, he looked up at me again, his eyes shining, almost sparkling with... could it be tears? Slowly, his eyes turned upwards until it seemed he was looking straight at the ceiling. I followed his gaze until I noticed a flicker in the title floating above his head. For a fraction of a second, it changed. The words "The Forgotten King" had blinked into view just long enough to read before changing back into "Wandering Beggar". Nothing like the excitement of that moment had ever before flooded my mind and soul. Wave upon wave of righteous vindication, of cosmic justice, of deep and profound purpose was crashing inside me as, all at once, what seemed like a lifelong journey was only just now coming into view. Before my mind raced ahead into what was to come, I had this moment to get through. I looked down and met his eyes again and he blinked, inviting an opening to conversation. With what I hoped was a confident voice I spoke. "So it's true. The Forgotten King still lives." He eyed me a long time, as I questioned internally whether or not he would regard my remark as insulting or not. Finally, he answered. "I have not seen that journal in over forty years. I thought it long since lost." His voice sounded dry and cracked, as if it issued from the same old wood upon which we were sat. I wondered how long it had been since he last spoke to another living person. "Considering where I found it, it almost was." I replied. He looked at me and said nothing. So I went on. "I found it in the ruins of the Starlight Tunnels." I said, looking for a change in expression in The Forgotten King's face, some semblance of understanding. But there was none. I continued. "I found it on the body of an explorer who seemed to think the Tunnels might hold answers. I admit, I was only there as, at that time, I was possessed of the same notion. I could only suppose he was on the same quest I was." I paused. The Forgotten King nodded slightly. "I searched his pockets and found details of a trip across the eastern sea to Brackdale. Pointless journey it turned out to be. I don't know how the man from the tunnels came to be possessed of this journal but he clearly had no idea what he held." At this moment, the old man held up his hand. I froze. "Do you mean to tell me, then, that you have found it?" This surprised me. He seemed to guess much more than I had let on. "I... I think I have. But only part of it. We still need to-" He shook his head. Slowly he pulled something from inside his robes. My eyes widened in shock. It was the hilt of The Kingspear! He held it out and looked at me expectantly. And from my pocket I pulled out the ornate orb that I had held close these long years and held it up for him to see. A sparkle shone in his eyes that matched the one I knew shone in mine and he held out a weathered, aged hand almost like a child holding out a hand for a present. "And now," he said, with a rising volume, "we return!" And taking my hand in his, he pressed the orb to the top of the scepter and with a bang and a flash, as though a bomb had just gone off, we transcended the plane in which the inn existed, and though I knew not where we were headed, I knew there was no going back. *Edited for grammar/punctuation	[Poem] Joseph sees the Forgotten King Surrounded by little bottles of drink King looks up to see what he brings As he sits in the dew of the spring Joseph asks him “Are you the King?” To the Forgotten King, clearly aging The king smiles and gives him a wink “Indeed I am, beneath this stink” “What happened to you?” Asks the boy The old king’s face fills with joy “I went to search for a beautiful thing A love that carried me on silver wing” The boy, confused, casts his doubt “But you left behind all that clout!” The king looks dreamily, far away “The price I did sorely pay But I found my love, what can I say?” Edit: I’m on mobile please excuse formatting until I get the chance to fix it
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	I was walking home one Winter night, doing the usual and reading out peoples titles in my head. Kevin Johannes - Dog Groomer, Susan Warren - Kickboxer, I passed a man and woman who's title indicated they were siblings, and who were getting a smidge to romantic with each other, I cringed. Then, sitting on the corner I saw The Forgotten King, I stopped in front of him staring at the words floating above his head. He was curled up just inside the opening of an alley clutching an odd choice for a change cup, it looked like aged bronze and very old. After a few moments the old man rose his head and saw me looking at his cup, caught off guard my hand shot for my pocket and fumbled for some change, "Heh" the old man chuckled. "It's alright lad, I'm used to people starring, this is a strange thing for a man like me to have." "Where'd you get it?" I asked trying not to seem rude. The old man sighed "Over seas during the war....a very old war, I doubt you'd believe me if I told you which one...no matter, I'm supposed to give it to someone in Rome but I haven't been able to get it back to where It needs to go, so I'm sort of.. stuck, in a way until that happens." I think to myself what he means by stuck, but I carry on my conversation. "Well I do travel a lot for work, maybe we can talk about it and I can probably help?" The old man stares at nothing for several seconds and focuses back on me. "You... you'd take this burd-..... I mean, cup from me?" Confused, I agree and the old man starts looking more relived than I've ever seen anyone. Fumbling over his words he stands up and shakes my hand. "My good Sir, you have no idea how long I have waited for someone like you to come along, what do they call you?" "I...uh, well my name is Lance" the old man scoffs but quickly tries to hide his reaction. "Ah...well Lance.... thank you for your offering to help me in my ques-.... endeavor. Meet me back here early tomorrow, there are a very specific set of instructions that are involved that I need to prepare." I agree and shake his hand again. As I start going back to my hotel I turn back around "Oh, I didn't get your name" the old man pauses ".....my name? I can't remember the last time I used it, it was... it is Arthur, yeah Arthur!"	[Poem] Joseph sees the Forgotten King Surrounded by little bottles of drink King looks up to see what he brings As he sits in the dew of the spring Joseph asks him “Are you the King?” To the Forgotten King, clearly aging The king smiles and gives him a wink “Indeed I am, beneath this stink” “What happened to you?” Asks the boy The old king’s face fills with joy “I went to search for a beautiful thing A love that carried me on silver wing” The boy, confused, casts his doubt “But you left behind all that clout!” The king looks dreamily, far away “The price I did sorely pay But I found my love, what can I say?” Edit: I’m on mobile please excuse formatting until I get the chance to fix it
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	David was opening up his shop when I arrived that morning. He was a fine book seller, always had the most compelling tales of heroism and adventure. I browsed his shop for only an hour that morning, I had too many books already. I looked around the shop aimlessly as he bagged my purchases, my eyes settled only momentarily on the words above the old man’s head. The Shopkeeper The rest of the town was waking up as I started to walk back home. Sarah, The Baker, handed me a loaf as I walked by. She was always generous. We were good friends, both of us had taken on our family businesses and shared the same struggles of keeping up with the newer town shops. I continued walking back home, greeting everyone from Paul, The Sheriff, to Anna, The Harpist. They all had the same titles above them, day after day. In white, neat penmanship, simple titles that were true to their characters. I had started to see them one day, when I was young. I had asked my father about them, but he had simply waved them off as part of my youthful imagination. “They’ll go away when you’re older.” That had been over twenty-years ago. I was now thirty-two, and the titles were still there. I didn’t know what my title was, I would sometimes go sit by the lake, to see if there was anything in my reflection. I never had one, not even when my father had died and I had become the town’s blacksmith. Father had always had a distaste for my interest in books, he said reading was for scholars. I had struggled to learn to read, since my mother had died when I was young, and Father did not know how. I learned one day though, that the shapes and lines that I was seeing above people were words. They had meaning, and gave people names beyond those given to them at birth. The bookkeeper had taught me how to read in exchange for a solid lock for his shop. I had learned how to make the lock from one of the first books I read. I was out of the main part of the town, there were fewer people with their shops open and even fewer out in the streets. The Midwife, The Priest, and The Shoemaker were the only ones I saw as I walked by. There was a man though who sat outside of the town’s church. He sat there in the cold with nothing but a single shirt and pants. He wore no shoes and his black beard was unkempt. I was getting closer and noticed his dirty face, but there was no other way. I had to walk past the church to get to my shop. That was when I noticed his title. The Forgotten King. I kept walking, but my pace slowed. No one had ever had that title before, no one had ever had a ridiculous title. I turned to look at him casually as I passed, pretending to be looking all around at the surroundings. I felt my eyes linger on the words above his head. Suddenly the homeless man’s head shot up. He looked me in the eyes and I was taken aback by how blue and clear they were. “You!” He jumped up from the steps of the church and I stopped, not sure if I wanted this man to know where I lived. “May I help you sir?” I couldn’t stop glancing at his title, it wasn’t in white text like most people’s. The Forgotten King was written in a faded grey, almost as if it was a sign that had been painted and then exposed to time and the elements. He leaned in closer to my face and I held my breath, not wanting to smell the stench off of a homeless man. I wanted to push him away, but it seemed wrong to be rude to another man in front of the town church. “Yes, yes. I knew you were here.” He muttered, looking at me from above. He was taller than me, and bigger despite the clothes of a homeless man. It was rare for someone bigger than the blacksmith to come to town. “Do I know you, sir?” I took a small breath when he leaned away, thankfully not catching a whiff of whatever his unkempt beard was probably giving off. I had seen a piece of moldy cheese in it. “No, but I know you.” He pointed at a spot above my head, “You’re The Titlemaker.”	[Poem] Joseph sees the Forgotten King Surrounded by little bottles of drink King looks up to see what he brings As he sits in the dew of the spring Joseph asks him “Are you the King?” To the Forgotten King, clearly aging The king smiles and gives him a wink “Indeed I am, beneath this stink” “What happened to you?” Asks the boy The old king’s face fills with joy “I went to search for a beautiful thing A love that carried me on silver wing” The boy, confused, casts his doubt “But you left behind all that clout!” The king looks dreamily, far away “The price I did sorely pay But I found my love, what can I say?” Edit: I’m on mobile please excuse formatting until I get the chance to fix it
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	As I walked my usual way home from work, I went about everything normally. I nodded at The Baker in her little shop as she wiped down the counters. I reminded myself, like I did every day, that I needed to pay that lady a visit on a lunch break--she looked like she didn't get a lot of business, but everything in the window looked delicious. Next, I went about pointedly staring at the red hand at the traffic light and ignoring The Prophet as he spouted the same old "repent or be damned" nonsense he always spouted on the corner to whomever was in earshot. When I finally crossed, I made the "sorry; I know" face to those passing me, looking really uncomfortable to have to walk next to that guy. I, as always, didn't look toward the freeway underpass, as I came to find that eye contact made me a target of the homeless people there. It was really close to a shelter, but the shelter had its limits, so there were always loiterers outside and under the bridge. However, a title I didn't recognize was shining from under there, and I only caught it with the corner of my eye. I slowed down and looked up just enough to read it. &#x200B; The Forgotten King. &#x200B; Huh. &#x200B; I'd never seen anything like that before. &#x200B; I thought about just picking my pace back up and making it home in time to get a bit of laundry started before going to the gym, but my interest was officially piqued. &#x200B; I found myself walking toward the man, trying to figure out how I was going to go about this. What was I even going to say? Before I even fully realized it, I was standing in front of him. He had been huddled under a worn blanket and didn't really notice me until I was right there. I got the impression that he was very used to people passing literally right next to him without doing anything; there's no way he hadn't heard my footsteps. He peered up at me from under his hat. I was immediately struck by how intelligent his eyes were. They were bright. Sad, but bright. &#x200B; "Can I help you, child?" he asked. His voice was worn and tired, but there was a strength to it that I wasn't anticipating. &#x200B; I found myself feeling rather embarrassed. "Oh, um... I'm sorry. I just wanted to see how you were doing this evening." &#x200B; He seemed a little surprised, but didn't skip a beat. "I'm getting a bit cold, but I'm okay. Thanks for asking." &#x200B; "Um... is there anything I can get for you?" &#x200B; He chuckled slightly. "I don't know how to go about answering that question, honestly." &#x200B; I felt my face flush. Of course, there were probably lots of things I could get for him. "Are you hungry?" &#x200B; He smiled faintly. "Actually, I am doing all right. Just a bit cold." &#x200B; "Well, I can give you some hand warmers, if you'd like? I always carry a few in my bag." At least it was something. &#x200B; He gave me a genuine smile, and I immediately felt happy. It was the oddest thing. "Yes, I would very much appreciate that," he stated, reaching out a bare hand from under his blanket. I pulled out two of the little packets from my bag, placed them in the outstretched, dirty hand, and watched them disappear behind the fleece. "Thank you very much," he said. &#x200B; It was really bothering me that there didn't seem to be anything special about him. The curiosity was almost infuriating. Surely, if he was a king, forgotten or not, he'd give me some kind of tell. Yet... nothing. &#x200B; "Are you sure there's nothing else you absolutely need tonight?" I asked helplessly. &#x200B; He chuckled without mirth, and it seemed like it pierced my soul. I had never thought about how asking how I could help someone could be selfish thing. He absolutely needed a warm place to sleep, a shower, and someone to really care for him. Yet, we both knew that I would not be offering those things. I wanted some trivial thing to be able to do for him, to... what? Check off a "I've been good today" box on my daily list? I didn't even know. Either way, my face was so flushed that I didn't feel the cold on it anymore. &#x200B; He smiled sadly, but his eyes didn't dim. "It's all right. I know. I appreciate that you gave me the hand warmers. They're already doing wonders for me." &#x200B; "I'm... I'm sorry." I didn't know what exactly I was apologizing for. I guess there were lots of things; I was sorry he was in his situation, though I didn't even really know what that situation was aside from needing a home. I knew he was fallen somehow... his tag told me that. I was sorry that I wasn't a better person, too; was it really all that hard to invite him into my house for a least a shower? What's the worst that could happen? He'd steal my mismatched silverware and try to sell it? Or... he could kill me... I guess? But, that didn't really make sense, because it's not like he'd get much out of that. Yet... I still wouldn't. We both knew it. "I don't carry loose change with me," I stammered. "But, I do have some gift cards for Starbucks if you'd like them?" &#x200B; "I don't want your money," he muttered as he looked down. I could tell he was clutching those hand warmers really hard under the blanket. "Thank you." &#x200B; There was an awkward silence for a bit, and then he looked back up at me with a sudden hope. "You know what you could do for me?" he asked. &#x200B; "What is it?" I truly wanted to help him in that moment... within reason of a stranger helping a stranger... I guess. &#x200B; "Do you think you could pray for me?" &#x200B; I was instantly uncomfortable. Like, he might have gotten a better reaction from me had he actually asked to sleep on my sofa. "Oh, um..." was all I could muster. &#x200B; His eyes dimmed. It was devastating. He looked down at the street. "You don't believe in God, do you?" &#x200B; "I... uh..." What to say? "I... I don't know what I believe." &#x200B; He nodded. "That's something I hear a lot. I hope you discover what you believe some day." &#x200B; I shifted my weight and coughed. "I... I hope the hand warmers last a while. And I hope you don't get too cold." He didn't answer, and he didn't look up. I felt so stupid. He'd asked for a prayer. Honestly, was that so hard? Even if there wasn't anyone listening, what harm would talking to my empty room be? "Look, maybe I can muster up a prayer for you tonight. I'm really sorry I can't do anything more." I instantly knew that was a lie, and I'll bet he did as well. But, socially, I think it was true enough that we both would just accept it as truth all around. &#x200B; He nodded again. "Thanks." &#x200B; I went home. I got some laundry into the washer. Then, just like that, everything was like normal again. The Gym Rat was attempting to speak to The Model when I got to the gym for my nightly workout, just like normal. The Manager told me that rent was due tomorrow, like he always does on the last day of the month. And, just like normal, I went to sleep without saying a prayer. &#x200B; The next day, it was normal again, except I wondered if I would see that Forgotten King again. All day at work, I was distracted, hoping he had found a way to be warmer. Maybe the shelter had a space open up? Maybe someone better than I had stopped by and offered something else? &#x200B; On my walk home, past the bakery I forgot to go to once again, I found myself looking up more than normal, trying to get a glimpse of the underpass before I got there. &#x200B; Then, a break in the monotony pulled me out of my thoughts. At the street corner, I realized that I didn't hear anyone shouting at me. Nobody was reminding me of sins I didn't commit or hellfire I didn't believe in. &#x200B; I turned, and I saw The Prophet sitting under the awning of the corner building, sobbing uncontrollably and repeating through his sobs to nobody in particular, "God is dead, God is dead." &#x200B; And, in that moment, I felt my heart stop, and I knew that I wouldn't be talking to The Forgotten King again.	[Poem] Joseph sees the Forgotten King Surrounded by little bottles of drink King looks up to see what he brings As he sits in the dew of the spring Joseph asks him “Are you the King?” To the Forgotten King, clearly aging The king smiles and gives him a wink “Indeed I am, beneath this stink” “What happened to you?” Asks the boy The old king’s face fills with joy “I went to search for a beautiful thing A love that carried me on silver wing” The boy, confused, casts his doubt “But you left behind all that clout!” The king looks dreamily, far away “The price I did sorely pay But I found my love, what can I say?” Edit: I’m on mobile please excuse formatting until I get the chance to fix it
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	Rain pattered the street as I walked hurriedly through town, listening for the familiar creak of the large wooden shingle that hung rusty and paint chipped outside the town's only inn. The sun had already set and the oil lamps had long since fizzled out in the storm. Three days it had been since I set out from Port Ariff. Three days without food and without rest. My only hope was that I was not too late. Halver's words still echoed in my head, "Give up, mate. He's long dead by now. You're wasting your time and gold on a fool's errand." Would he be right in the end? It was true that I had spent nearly everything I had left on the ticket back to Port Ariff from Brackdale, where false news had sent me to regrettable misfortune. It was also true that this journey had now spanned the better part of seven years and had claimed more of my sanity than the first thirty years of my life had done. But this last clue had become the spark to reignite the kind of flames that could whip thru the Echoing Forest in a single breath, leaving nothing but an ashen wasteland littered with the bones of every living thing that couldn't see the future as I could... Or would the spark ignite nothing, and leave my spirit just as desolate and my resolve just as empty? I shook my head and put that thought behind me. Now was not the time to entertain doubt. That cruel enchanter had been casting his shadow over me for far too long and now I was going to rid myself of him for good. Peering through rain-flecked windows along the way, I searched for the title of the one for whom I had long been after. "Apothecary"... "Bardmaid"... "Local Hero" ... and the titles of dozens of other ordinary citizens shone like little candles over their owners' heads. I heard creaking of rusty hinges that told me the inn was not far up the road. I hurried my footsteps and peered once more around the deserted street before turning off the walkway into the entrance of the Barebrook Inn. Shaking the rain from my cloak, I turned the handle of the large oaken door that held shut the warmth of the fires blazing inside the inn. Had I not been familiar with the town of Barebrook, I might've expected a cozy, quiet atmosphere such as I had found in many other small towns nestled in the foothills of the Woven Mountains. But I was no newcomer. I traded the roar of the storm outside for the roar of the crowd of people inside. Nearly every bench and chair was occupied and many were left standing in the aisles and along the walls of the inn. Small crowds of folks huddled together in corners and near the square wooden pillars that held up the vaulted roof of the inn. Two large chandeliers hung from the rafters at either end of the main hall and dotted along the walls were several lamps that provided a soft golden glow to the atmosphere of the place. Music was coming from the far end of the hall where it seemed local and traveling bards and troubadours were trading songwork. I wormed my way through the crowd up to the bar and looked for the owner's title. "Innkeeper Galen" was standing down the left-hand side of the bar by the staircase that led up to the second floor rooms. He was engrossed in conversation with a man, but I caught his eye and he gave me a nod by way of a greeting. I nodded back and reached over the bar for a glass, filled it with ale, left a few coins behind on the shelf, and turned to find a place to sit and wait. Over in a corner opposite the bar, there was a table being vacated by a group of five that were laughing and stumbling while putting on their coats. I rushed to sit before anyone else could claim the bench. From this spot, I could view the bar, the door, and the balcony of the second floor. "Had he already come and gone?" I thought worriedly. Again, I shook the thought from my head. It was still early on in the evening and I only knew I had to be here by midnight. Surely he hadn't been here and left yet. Over the next two hours, the crowd had thinned somewhat. I occupied my time by scanning the titles of the occupants of the inn, looking for ones I hadn't seen before. It was rare; most of the time, local inns were teeming with "shopkeepers", "town guards", and the occasional "Town Drunk" who spent nearly as much time at the bar as he did away from it. In Barebrook, that was Elford, who was presently resting in a booth with his head slumped against the wall, his empty mug still clutched in his fist. Having memorized everyone currently in attendance, I pulled out the old notebook I had been carrying since last summer and reviewed the three pages of notes that held the information that had led me back here. It seemed strange now how many times I had read them, and yet I had not had the sense to realize that it meant this place. Only after everything I'd learned over the past year had it become clear that the key had been hiding right under my nose. I looked up and saw that I was being watched. An old man seated two rows away from me was staring straight into my eyes. He did not blink and did not turn away as the vague shapes of bodies moved between us. An invisible hand gripped my insides as I tucked the notebook back into my pocket. I drained the last of my drink and imagined it filling my heart with courage as much as it filled my stomach. I stood up and met his eyes again as I walked toward the table where he sat. Above his head glowed the words "Wandering Beggar". If I was right about what I thought I knew, this was no random street urchin. His gaze followed me all the way to his table and he made no motion to stop me sitting down. His unblinking eyes unnerved me as much as staring down a starving bear, but I showed no hint of cowardice. If the rumors were true, and I made a false move, I never would've made it out of that inn alive. Slowly, I pulled out the notebook and laid it on the table between us. For the first time, his gaze shifted from me down to the old and tattered volume and for what seemed like minutes, he stared without speaking. Finally, he looked up at me again, his eyes shining, almost sparkling with... could it be tears? Slowly, his eyes turned upwards until it seemed he was looking straight at the ceiling. I followed his gaze until I noticed a flicker in the title floating above his head. For a fraction of a second, it changed. The words "The Forgotten King" had blinked into view just long enough to read before changing back into "Wandering Beggar". Nothing like the excitement of that moment had ever before flooded my mind and soul. Wave upon wave of righteous vindication, of cosmic justice, of deep and profound purpose was crashing inside me as, all at once, what seemed like a lifelong journey was only just now coming into view. Before my mind raced ahead into what was to come, I had this moment to get through. I looked down and met his eyes again and he blinked, inviting an opening to conversation. With what I hoped was a confident voice I spoke. "So it's true. The Forgotten King still lives." He eyed me a long time, as I questioned internally whether or not he would regard my remark as insulting or not. Finally, he answered. "I have not seen that journal in over forty years. I thought it long since lost." His voice sounded dry and cracked, as if it issued from the same old wood upon which we were sat. I wondered how long it had been since he last spoke to another living person. "Considering where I found it, it almost was." I replied. He looked at me and said nothing. So I went on. "I found it in the ruins of the Starlight Tunnels." I said, looking for a change in expression in The Forgotten King's face, some semblance of understanding. But there was none. I continued. "I found it on the body of an explorer who seemed to think the Tunnels might hold answers. I admit, I was only there as, at that time, I was possessed of the same notion. I could only suppose he was on the same quest I was." I paused. The Forgotten King nodded slightly. "I searched his pockets and found details of a trip across the eastern sea to Brackdale. Pointless journey it turned out to be. I don't know how the man from the tunnels came to be possessed of this journal but he clearly had no idea what he held." At this moment, the old man held up his hand. I froze. "Do you mean to tell me, then, that you have found it?" This surprised me. He seemed to guess much more than I had let on. "I... I think I have. But only part of it. We still need to-" He shook his head. Slowly he pulled something from inside his robes. My eyes widened in shock. It was the hilt of The Kingspear! He held it out and looked at me expectantly. And from my pocket I pulled out the ornate orb that I had held close these long years and held it up for him to see. A sparkle shone in his eyes that matched the one I knew shone in mine and he held out a weathered, aged hand almost like a child holding out a hand for a present. "And now," he said, with a rising volume, "we return!" And taking my hand in his, he pressed the orb to the top of the scepter and with a bang and a flash, as though a bomb had just gone off, we transcended the plane in which the inn existed, and though I knew not where we were headed, I knew there was no going back. *Edited for grammar/punctuation	I once dated a girl who had the title, "The Destroyer". It didn't take me long to realize how and why she deserved that name. After a series of fights and near-death experiences, we broke off our relationship and decided it would be best if we didn't remain friends. I remember the night that I left her apartment, when everything had ended, and I was left single on the city street, with no place to go except my boring apartment in Queens. I walked down 10th avenue, looking for a bar and trying to find any reason to not go back home. &#x200B; A homeless man was standing at the street corner a block ahead and yelling something about coupons. In a normal situation, I would have jay-walked across the avenue and ignored the situation, but my mood requested that I encounter some kind of craziness, so I approached the man until I could smell the layer of week-old piss on his hefty winter jacket. &#x200B; "Coupons are a scam by businesses to make you addicted to their product" he was yelling. What happened next was an accident - but it turned out to be more insightful than I expected. I bumped against his arm that he had stuck out into the crowd, and when I looked into his eyes to offer some kind of chastisement, I saw his title and was shocked. "The Forgotten King." &#x200B; "What did you say, boy?" the man asked me, his voice now quieter yet more threatening. I didn't realize it, but I had muttered his title out loud. &#x200B; "Nothing, sorry. &#x200B; "No, what did you say? You afraid of me?" &#x200B; "No, of course not. I'm sorry, you just look familiar." &#x200B; He gave me a look with the complete understanding that I was lying to him. Then, he pulled a grate from behind a New York City trash can and sat on it, directing his gaze directly up at me. I didn't know what to do until he took another object out from behind the trash can. At first, it looked like a dusty piece of garbage, but when he blew on it, a gleaming lining of gold appeared, and he stood up and placed the crown on my head. The two of us stood there, staring at each other without saying anything. Then he gave me a big, near-toothless and gum-filled smile and said, "now you understand." &#x200B; I nodded, letting the tears stream down my cheeks. &#x200B; "Now you understand."
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	I was walking home one Winter night, doing the usual and reading out peoples titles in my head. Kevin Johannes - Dog Groomer, Susan Warren - Kickboxer, I passed a man and woman who's title indicated they were siblings, and who were getting a smidge to romantic with each other, I cringed. Then, sitting on the corner I saw The Forgotten King, I stopped in front of him staring at the words floating above his head. He was curled up just inside the opening of an alley clutching an odd choice for a change cup, it looked like aged bronze and very old. After a few moments the old man rose his head and saw me looking at his cup, caught off guard my hand shot for my pocket and fumbled for some change, "Heh" the old man chuckled. "It's alright lad, I'm used to people starring, this is a strange thing for a man like me to have." "Where'd you get it?" I asked trying not to seem rude. The old man sighed "Over seas during the war....a very old war, I doubt you'd believe me if I told you which one...no matter, I'm supposed to give it to someone in Rome but I haven't been able to get it back to where It needs to go, so I'm sort of.. stuck, in a way until that happens." I think to myself what he means by stuck, but I carry on my conversation. "Well I do travel a lot for work, maybe we can talk about it and I can probably help?" The old man stares at nothing for several seconds and focuses back on me. "You... you'd take this burd-..... I mean, cup from me?" Confused, I agree and the old man starts looking more relived than I've ever seen anyone. Fumbling over his words he stands up and shakes my hand. "My good Sir, you have no idea how long I have waited for someone like you to come along, what do they call you?" "I...uh, well my name is Lance" the old man scoffs but quickly tries to hide his reaction. "Ah...well Lance.... thank you for your offering to help me in my ques-.... endeavor. Meet me back here early tomorrow, there are a very specific set of instructions that are involved that I need to prepare." I agree and shake his hand again. As I start going back to my hotel I turn back around "Oh, I didn't get your name" the old man pauses ".....my name? I can't remember the last time I used it, it was... it is Arthur, yeah Arthur!"	I once dated a girl who had the title, "The Destroyer". It didn't take me long to realize how and why she deserved that name. After a series of fights and near-death experiences, we broke off our relationship and decided it would be best if we didn't remain friends. I remember the night that I left her apartment, when everything had ended, and I was left single on the city street, with no place to go except my boring apartment in Queens. I walked down 10th avenue, looking for a bar and trying to find any reason to not go back home. &#x200B; A homeless man was standing at the street corner a block ahead and yelling something about coupons. In a normal situation, I would have jay-walked across the avenue and ignored the situation, but my mood requested that I encounter some kind of craziness, so I approached the man until I could smell the layer of week-old piss on his hefty winter jacket. &#x200B; "Coupons are a scam by businesses to make you addicted to their product" he was yelling. What happened next was an accident - but it turned out to be more insightful than I expected. I bumped against his arm that he had stuck out into the crowd, and when I looked into his eyes to offer some kind of chastisement, I saw his title and was shocked. "The Forgotten King." &#x200B; "What did you say, boy?" the man asked me, his voice now quieter yet more threatening. I didn't realize it, but I had muttered his title out loud. &#x200B; "Nothing, sorry. &#x200B; "No, what did you say? You afraid of me?" &#x200B; "No, of course not. I'm sorry, you just look familiar." &#x200B; He gave me a look with the complete understanding that I was lying to him. Then, he pulled a grate from behind a New York City trash can and sat on it, directing his gaze directly up at me. I didn't know what to do until he took another object out from behind the trash can. At first, it looked like a dusty piece of garbage, but when he blew on it, a gleaming lining of gold appeared, and he stood up and placed the crown on my head. The two of us stood there, staring at each other without saying anything. Then he gave me a big, near-toothless and gum-filled smile and said, "now you understand." &#x200B; I nodded, letting the tears stream down my cheeks. &#x200B; "Now you understand."
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	David was opening up his shop when I arrived that morning. He was a fine book seller, always had the most compelling tales of heroism and adventure. I browsed his shop for only an hour that morning, I had too many books already. I looked around the shop aimlessly as he bagged my purchases, my eyes settled only momentarily on the words above the old man’s head. The Shopkeeper The rest of the town was waking up as I started to walk back home. Sarah, The Baker, handed me a loaf as I walked by. She was always generous. We were good friends, both of us had taken on our family businesses and shared the same struggles of keeping up with the newer town shops. I continued walking back home, greeting everyone from Paul, The Sheriff, to Anna, The Harpist. They all had the same titles above them, day after day. In white, neat penmanship, simple titles that were true to their characters. I had started to see them one day, when I was young. I had asked my father about them, but he had simply waved them off as part of my youthful imagination. “They’ll go away when you’re older.” That had been over twenty-years ago. I was now thirty-two, and the titles were still there. I didn’t know what my title was, I would sometimes go sit by the lake, to see if there was anything in my reflection. I never had one, not even when my father had died and I had become the town’s blacksmith. Father had always had a distaste for my interest in books, he said reading was for scholars. I had struggled to learn to read, since my mother had died when I was young, and Father did not know how. I learned one day though, that the shapes and lines that I was seeing above people were words. They had meaning, and gave people names beyond those given to them at birth. The bookkeeper had taught me how to read in exchange for a solid lock for his shop. I had learned how to make the lock from one of the first books I read. I was out of the main part of the town, there were fewer people with their shops open and even fewer out in the streets. The Midwife, The Priest, and The Shoemaker were the only ones I saw as I walked by. There was a man though who sat outside of the town’s church. He sat there in the cold with nothing but a single shirt and pants. He wore no shoes and his black beard was unkempt. I was getting closer and noticed his dirty face, but there was no other way. I had to walk past the church to get to my shop. That was when I noticed his title. The Forgotten King. I kept walking, but my pace slowed. No one had ever had that title before, no one had ever had a ridiculous title. I turned to look at him casually as I passed, pretending to be looking all around at the surroundings. I felt my eyes linger on the words above his head. Suddenly the homeless man’s head shot up. He looked me in the eyes and I was taken aback by how blue and clear they were. “You!” He jumped up from the steps of the church and I stopped, not sure if I wanted this man to know where I lived. “May I help you sir?” I couldn’t stop glancing at his title, it wasn’t in white text like most people’s. The Forgotten King was written in a faded grey, almost as if it was a sign that had been painted and then exposed to time and the elements. He leaned in closer to my face and I held my breath, not wanting to smell the stench off of a homeless man. I wanted to push him away, but it seemed wrong to be rude to another man in front of the town church. “Yes, yes. I knew you were here.” He muttered, looking at me from above. He was taller than me, and bigger despite the clothes of a homeless man. It was rare for someone bigger than the blacksmith to come to town. “Do I know you, sir?” I took a small breath when he leaned away, thankfully not catching a whiff of whatever his unkempt beard was probably giving off. I had seen a piece of moldy cheese in it. “No, but I know you.” He pointed at a spot above my head, “You’re The Titlemaker.”	I once dated a girl who had the title, "The Destroyer". It didn't take me long to realize how and why she deserved that name. After a series of fights and near-death experiences, we broke off our relationship and decided it would be best if we didn't remain friends. I remember the night that I left her apartment, when everything had ended, and I was left single on the city street, with no place to go except my boring apartment in Queens. I walked down 10th avenue, looking for a bar and trying to find any reason to not go back home. &#x200B; A homeless man was standing at the street corner a block ahead and yelling something about coupons. In a normal situation, I would have jay-walked across the avenue and ignored the situation, but my mood requested that I encounter some kind of craziness, so I approached the man until I could smell the layer of week-old piss on his hefty winter jacket. &#x200B; "Coupons are a scam by businesses to make you addicted to their product" he was yelling. What happened next was an accident - but it turned out to be more insightful than I expected. I bumped against his arm that he had stuck out into the crowd, and when I looked into his eyes to offer some kind of chastisement, I saw his title and was shocked. "The Forgotten King." &#x200B; "What did you say, boy?" the man asked me, his voice now quieter yet more threatening. I didn't realize it, but I had muttered his title out loud. &#x200B; "Nothing, sorry. &#x200B; "No, what did you say? You afraid of me?" &#x200B; "No, of course not. I'm sorry, you just look familiar." &#x200B; He gave me a look with the complete understanding that I was lying to him. Then, he pulled a grate from behind a New York City trash can and sat on it, directing his gaze directly up at me. I didn't know what to do until he took another object out from behind the trash can. At first, it looked like a dusty piece of garbage, but when he blew on it, a gleaming lining of gold appeared, and he stood up and placed the crown on my head. The two of us stood there, staring at each other without saying anything. Then he gave me a big, near-toothless and gum-filled smile and said, "now you understand." &#x200B; I nodded, letting the tears stream down my cheeks. &#x200B; "Now you understand."
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	David was opening up his shop when I arrived that morning. He was a fine book seller, always had the most compelling tales of heroism and adventure. I browsed his shop for only an hour that morning, I had too many books already. I looked around the shop aimlessly as he bagged my purchases, my eyes settled only momentarily on the words above the old man’s head. The Shopkeeper The rest of the town was waking up as I started to walk back home. Sarah, The Baker, handed me a loaf as I walked by. She was always generous. We were good friends, both of us had taken on our family businesses and shared the same struggles of keeping up with the newer town shops. I continued walking back home, greeting everyone from Paul, The Sheriff, to Anna, The Harpist. They all had the same titles above them, day after day. In white, neat penmanship, simple titles that were true to their characters. I had started to see them one day, when I was young. I had asked my father about them, but he had simply waved them off as part of my youthful imagination. “They’ll go away when you’re older.” That had been over twenty-years ago. I was now thirty-two, and the titles were still there. I didn’t know what my title was, I would sometimes go sit by the lake, to see if there was anything in my reflection. I never had one, not even when my father had died and I had become the town’s blacksmith. Father had always had a distaste for my interest in books, he said reading was for scholars. I had struggled to learn to read, since my mother had died when I was young, and Father did not know how. I learned one day though, that the shapes and lines that I was seeing above people were words. They had meaning, and gave people names beyond those given to them at birth. The bookkeeper had taught me how to read in exchange for a solid lock for his shop. I had learned how to make the lock from one of the first books I read. I was out of the main part of the town, there were fewer people with their shops open and even fewer out in the streets. The Midwife, The Priest, and The Shoemaker were the only ones I saw as I walked by. There was a man though who sat outside of the town’s church. He sat there in the cold with nothing but a single shirt and pants. He wore no shoes and his black beard was unkempt. I was getting closer and noticed his dirty face, but there was no other way. I had to walk past the church to get to my shop. That was when I noticed his title. The Forgotten King. I kept walking, but my pace slowed. No one had ever had that title before, no one had ever had a ridiculous title. I turned to look at him casually as I passed, pretending to be looking all around at the surroundings. I felt my eyes linger on the words above his head. Suddenly the homeless man’s head shot up. He looked me in the eyes and I was taken aback by how blue and clear they were. “You!” He jumped up from the steps of the church and I stopped, not sure if I wanted this man to know where I lived. “May I help you sir?” I couldn’t stop glancing at his title, it wasn’t in white text like most people’s. The Forgotten King was written in a faded grey, almost as if it was a sign that had been painted and then exposed to time and the elements. He leaned in closer to my face and I held my breath, not wanting to smell the stench off of a homeless man. I wanted to push him away, but it seemed wrong to be rude to another man in front of the town church. “Yes, yes. I knew you were here.” He muttered, looking at me from above. He was taller than me, and bigger despite the clothes of a homeless man. It was rare for someone bigger than the blacksmith to come to town. “Do I know you, sir?” I took a small breath when he leaned away, thankfully not catching a whiff of whatever his unkempt beard was probably giving off. I had seen a piece of moldy cheese in it. “No, but I know you.” He pointed at a spot above my head, “You’re The Titlemaker.”	Rain pattered the street as I walked hurriedly through town, listening for the familiar creak of the large wooden shingle that hung rusty and paint chipped outside the town's only inn. The sun had already set and the oil lamps had long since fizzled out in the storm. Three days it had been since I set out from Port Ariff. Three days without food and without rest. My only hope was that I was not too late. Halver's words still echoed in my head, "Give up, mate. He's long dead by now. You're wasting your time and gold on a fool's errand." Would he be right in the end? It was true that I had spent nearly everything I had left on the ticket back to Port Ariff from Brackdale, where false news had sent me to regrettable misfortune. It was also true that this journey had now spanned the better part of seven years and had claimed more of my sanity than the first thirty years of my life had done. But this last clue had become the spark to reignite the kind of flames that could whip thru the Echoing Forest in a single breath, leaving nothing but an ashen wasteland littered with the bones of every living thing that couldn't see the future as I could... Or would the spark ignite nothing, and leave my spirit just as desolate and my resolve just as empty? I shook my head and put that thought behind me. Now was not the time to entertain doubt. That cruel enchanter had been casting his shadow over me for far too long and now I was going to rid myself of him for good. Peering through rain-flecked windows along the way, I searched for the title of the one for whom I had long been after. "Apothecary"... "Bardmaid"... "Local Hero" ... and the titles of dozens of other ordinary citizens shone like little candles over their owners' heads. I heard creaking of rusty hinges that told me the inn was not far up the road. I hurried my footsteps and peered once more around the deserted street before turning off the walkway into the entrance of the Barebrook Inn. Shaking the rain from my cloak, I turned the handle of the large oaken door that held shut the warmth of the fires blazing inside the inn. Had I not been familiar with the town of Barebrook, I might've expected a cozy, quiet atmosphere such as I had found in many other small towns nestled in the foothills of the Woven Mountains. But I was no newcomer. I traded the roar of the storm outside for the roar of the crowd of people inside. Nearly every bench and chair was occupied and many were left standing in the aisles and along the walls of the inn. Small crowds of folks huddled together in corners and near the square wooden pillars that held up the vaulted roof of the inn. Two large chandeliers hung from the rafters at either end of the main hall and dotted along the walls were several lamps that provided a soft golden glow to the atmosphere of the place. Music was coming from the far end of the hall where it seemed local and traveling bards and troubadours were trading songwork. I wormed my way through the crowd up to the bar and looked for the owner's title. "Innkeeper Galen" was standing down the left-hand side of the bar by the staircase that led up to the second floor rooms. He was engrossed in conversation with a man, but I caught his eye and he gave me a nod by way of a greeting. I nodded back and reached over the bar for a glass, filled it with ale, left a few coins behind on the shelf, and turned to find a place to sit and wait. Over in a corner opposite the bar, there was a table being vacated by a group of five that were laughing and stumbling while putting on their coats. I rushed to sit before anyone else could claim the bench. From this spot, I could view the bar, the door, and the balcony of the second floor. "Had he already come and gone?" I thought worriedly. Again, I shook the thought from my head. It was still early on in the evening and I only knew I had to be here by midnight. Surely he hadn't been here and left yet. Over the next two hours, the crowd had thinned somewhat. I occupied my time by scanning the titles of the occupants of the inn, looking for ones I hadn't seen before. It was rare; most of the time, local inns were teeming with "shopkeepers", "town guards", and the occasional "Town Drunk" who spent nearly as much time at the bar as he did away from it. In Barebrook, that was Elford, who was presently resting in a booth with his head slumped against the wall, his empty mug still clutched in his fist. Having memorized everyone currently in attendance, I pulled out the old notebook I had been carrying since last summer and reviewed the three pages of notes that held the information that had led me back here. It seemed strange now how many times I had read them, and yet I had not had the sense to realize that it meant this place. Only after everything I'd learned over the past year had it become clear that the key had been hiding right under my nose. I looked up and saw that I was being watched. An old man seated two rows away from me was staring straight into my eyes. He did not blink and did not turn away as the vague shapes of bodies moved between us. An invisible hand gripped my insides as I tucked the notebook back into my pocket. I drained the last of my drink and imagined it filling my heart with courage as much as it filled my stomach. I stood up and met his eyes again as I walked toward the table where he sat. Above his head glowed the words "Wandering Beggar". If I was right about what I thought I knew, this was no random street urchin. His gaze followed me all the way to his table and he made no motion to stop me sitting down. His unblinking eyes unnerved me as much as staring down a starving bear, but I showed no hint of cowardice. If the rumors were true, and I made a false move, I never would've made it out of that inn alive. Slowly, I pulled out the notebook and laid it on the table between us. For the first time, his gaze shifted from me down to the old and tattered volume and for what seemed like minutes, he stared without speaking. Finally, he looked up at me again, his eyes shining, almost sparkling with... could it be tears? Slowly, his eyes turned upwards until it seemed he was looking straight at the ceiling. I followed his gaze until I noticed a flicker in the title floating above his head. For a fraction of a second, it changed. The words "The Forgotten King" had blinked into view just long enough to read before changing back into "Wandering Beggar". Nothing like the excitement of that moment had ever before flooded my mind and soul. Wave upon wave of righteous vindication, of cosmic justice, of deep and profound purpose was crashing inside me as, all at once, what seemed like a lifelong journey was only just now coming into view. Before my mind raced ahead into what was to come, I had this moment to get through. I looked down and met his eyes again and he blinked, inviting an opening to conversation. With what I hoped was a confident voice I spoke. "So it's true. The Forgotten King still lives." He eyed me a long time, as I questioned internally whether or not he would regard my remark as insulting or not. Finally, he answered. "I have not seen that journal in over forty years. I thought it long since lost." His voice sounded dry and cracked, as if it issued from the same old wood upon which we were sat. I wondered how long it had been since he last spoke to another living person. "Considering where I found it, it almost was." I replied. He looked at me and said nothing. So I went on. "I found it in the ruins of the Starlight Tunnels." I said, looking for a change in expression in The Forgotten King's face, some semblance of understanding. But there was none. I continued. "I found it on the body of an explorer who seemed to think the Tunnels might hold answers. I admit, I was only there as, at that time, I was possessed of the same notion. I could only suppose he was on the same quest I was." I paused. The Forgotten King nodded slightly. "I searched his pockets and found details of a trip across the eastern sea to Brackdale. Pointless journey it turned out to be. I don't know how the man from the tunnels came to be possessed of this journal but he clearly had no idea what he held." At this moment, the old man held up his hand. I froze. "Do you mean to tell me, then, that you have found it?" This surprised me. He seemed to guess much more than I had let on. "I... I think I have. But only part of it. We still need to-" He shook his head. Slowly he pulled something from inside his robes. My eyes widened in shock. It was the hilt of The Kingspear! He held it out and looked at me expectantly. And from my pocket I pulled out the ornate orb that I had held close these long years and held it up for him to see. A sparkle shone in his eyes that matched the one I knew shone in mine and he held out a weathered, aged hand almost like a child holding out a hand for a present. "And now," he said, with a rising volume, "we return!" And taking my hand in his, he pressed the orb to the top of the scepter and with a bang and a flash, as though a bomb had just gone off, we transcended the plane in which the inn existed, and though I knew not where we were headed, I knew there was no going back. *Edited for grammar/punctuation
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	David was opening up his shop when I arrived that morning. He was a fine book seller, always had the most compelling tales of heroism and adventure. I browsed his shop for only an hour that morning, I had too many books already. I looked around the shop aimlessly as he bagged my purchases, my eyes settled only momentarily on the words above the old man’s head. The Shopkeeper The rest of the town was waking up as I started to walk back home. Sarah, The Baker, handed me a loaf as I walked by. She was always generous. We were good friends, both of us had taken on our family businesses and shared the same struggles of keeping up with the newer town shops. I continued walking back home, greeting everyone from Paul, The Sheriff, to Anna, The Harpist. They all had the same titles above them, day after day. In white, neat penmanship, simple titles that were true to their characters. I had started to see them one day, when I was young. I had asked my father about them, but he had simply waved them off as part of my youthful imagination. “They’ll go away when you’re older.” That had been over twenty-years ago. I was now thirty-two, and the titles were still there. I didn’t know what my title was, I would sometimes go sit by the lake, to see if there was anything in my reflection. I never had one, not even when my father had died and I had become the town’s blacksmith. Father had always had a distaste for my interest in books, he said reading was for scholars. I had struggled to learn to read, since my mother had died when I was young, and Father did not know how. I learned one day though, that the shapes and lines that I was seeing above people were words. They had meaning, and gave people names beyond those given to them at birth. The bookkeeper had taught me how to read in exchange for a solid lock for his shop. I had learned how to make the lock from one of the first books I read. I was out of the main part of the town, there were fewer people with their shops open and even fewer out in the streets. The Midwife, The Priest, and The Shoemaker were the only ones I saw as I walked by. There was a man though who sat outside of the town’s church. He sat there in the cold with nothing but a single shirt and pants. He wore no shoes and his black beard was unkempt. I was getting closer and noticed his dirty face, but there was no other way. I had to walk past the church to get to my shop. That was when I noticed his title. The Forgotten King. I kept walking, but my pace slowed. No one had ever had that title before, no one had ever had a ridiculous title. I turned to look at him casually as I passed, pretending to be looking all around at the surroundings. I felt my eyes linger on the words above his head. Suddenly the homeless man’s head shot up. He looked me in the eyes and I was taken aback by how blue and clear they were. “You!” He jumped up from the steps of the church and I stopped, not sure if I wanted this man to know where I lived. “May I help you sir?” I couldn’t stop glancing at his title, it wasn’t in white text like most people’s. The Forgotten King was written in a faded grey, almost as if it was a sign that had been painted and then exposed to time and the elements. He leaned in closer to my face and I held my breath, not wanting to smell the stench off of a homeless man. I wanted to push him away, but it seemed wrong to be rude to another man in front of the town church. “Yes, yes. I knew you were here.” He muttered, looking at me from above. He was taller than me, and bigger despite the clothes of a homeless man. It was rare for someone bigger than the blacksmith to come to town. “Do I know you, sir?” I took a small breath when he leaned away, thankfully not catching a whiff of whatever his unkempt beard was probably giving off. I had seen a piece of moldy cheese in it. “No, but I know you.” He pointed at a spot above my head, “You’re The Titlemaker.”	I was walking home one Winter night, doing the usual and reading out peoples titles in my head. Kevin Johannes - Dog Groomer, Susan Warren - Kickboxer, I passed a man and woman who's title indicated they were siblings, and who were getting a smidge to romantic with each other, I cringed. Then, sitting on the corner I saw The Forgotten King, I stopped in front of him staring at the words floating above his head. He was curled up just inside the opening of an alley clutching an odd choice for a change cup, it looked like aged bronze and very old. After a few moments the old man rose his head and saw me looking at his cup, caught off guard my hand shot for my pocket and fumbled for some change, "Heh" the old man chuckled. "It's alright lad, I'm used to people starring, this is a strange thing for a man like me to have." "Where'd you get it?" I asked trying not to seem rude. The old man sighed "Over seas during the war....a very old war, I doubt you'd believe me if I told you which one...no matter, I'm supposed to give it to someone in Rome but I haven't been able to get it back to where It needs to go, so I'm sort of.. stuck, in a way until that happens." I think to myself what he means by stuck, but I carry on my conversation. "Well I do travel a lot for work, maybe we can talk about it and I can probably help?" The old man stares at nothing for several seconds and focuses back on me. "You... you'd take this burd-..... I mean, cup from me?" Confused, I agree and the old man starts looking more relived than I've ever seen anyone. Fumbling over his words he stands up and shakes my hand. "My good Sir, you have no idea how long I have waited for someone like you to come along, what do they call you?" "I...uh, well my name is Lance" the old man scoffs but quickly tries to hide his reaction. "Ah...well Lance.... thank you for your offering to help me in my ques-.... endeavor. Meet me back here early tomorrow, there are a very specific set of instructions that are involved that I need to prepare." I agree and shake his hand again. As I start going back to my hotel I turn back around "Oh, I didn't get your name" the old man pauses ".....my name? I can't remember the last time I used it, it was... it is Arthur, yeah Arthur!"
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	David was opening up his shop when I arrived that morning. He was a fine book seller, always had the most compelling tales of heroism and adventure. I browsed his shop for only an hour that morning, I had too many books already. I looked around the shop aimlessly as he bagged my purchases, my eyes settled only momentarily on the words above the old man’s head. The Shopkeeper The rest of the town was waking up as I started to walk back home. Sarah, The Baker, handed me a loaf as I walked by. She was always generous. We were good friends, both of us had taken on our family businesses and shared the same struggles of keeping up with the newer town shops. I continued walking back home, greeting everyone from Paul, The Sheriff, to Anna, The Harpist. They all had the same titles above them, day after day. In white, neat penmanship, simple titles that were true to their characters. I had started to see them one day, when I was young. I had asked my father about them, but he had simply waved them off as part of my youthful imagination. “They’ll go away when you’re older.” That had been over twenty-years ago. I was now thirty-two, and the titles were still there. I didn’t know what my title was, I would sometimes go sit by the lake, to see if there was anything in my reflection. I never had one, not even when my father had died and I had become the town’s blacksmith. Father had always had a distaste for my interest in books, he said reading was for scholars. I had struggled to learn to read, since my mother had died when I was young, and Father did not know how. I learned one day though, that the shapes and lines that I was seeing above people were words. They had meaning, and gave people names beyond those given to them at birth. The bookkeeper had taught me how to read in exchange for a solid lock for his shop. I had learned how to make the lock from one of the first books I read. I was out of the main part of the town, there were fewer people with their shops open and even fewer out in the streets. The Midwife, The Priest, and The Shoemaker were the only ones I saw as I walked by. There was a man though who sat outside of the town’s church. He sat there in the cold with nothing but a single shirt and pants. He wore no shoes and his black beard was unkempt. I was getting closer and noticed his dirty face, but there was no other way. I had to walk past the church to get to my shop. That was when I noticed his title. The Forgotten King. I kept walking, but my pace slowed. No one had ever had that title before, no one had ever had a ridiculous title. I turned to look at him casually as I passed, pretending to be looking all around at the surroundings. I felt my eyes linger on the words above his head. Suddenly the homeless man’s head shot up. He looked me in the eyes and I was taken aback by how blue and clear they were. “You!” He jumped up from the steps of the church and I stopped, not sure if I wanted this man to know where I lived. “May I help you sir?” I couldn’t stop glancing at his title, it wasn’t in white text like most people’s. The Forgotten King was written in a faded grey, almost as if it was a sign that had been painted and then exposed to time and the elements. He leaned in closer to my face and I held my breath, not wanting to smell the stench off of a homeless man. I wanted to push him away, but it seemed wrong to be rude to another man in front of the town church. “Yes, yes. I knew you were here.” He muttered, looking at me from above. He was taller than me, and bigger despite the clothes of a homeless man. It was rare for someone bigger than the blacksmith to come to town. “Do I know you, sir?” I took a small breath when he leaned away, thankfully not catching a whiff of whatever his unkempt beard was probably giving off. I had seen a piece of moldy cheese in it. “No, but I know you.” He pointed at a spot above my head, “You’re The Titlemaker.”	I stop in my footsteps. "The Forgotten King"... sitting in the streets, a blanket barely covering him. No one seems to notice him but me. Even I almost walked by. The coffee warming my hands suddenly felt heavy. I turn to him. 'Hello, could I offer you this?' He looks up somewhat puzzled. 'Why?' He takes the coffee. 'Thank you.' 'I wanted to help you, that's why.' I bent down to be at his eye level. Deep blue mysterious eyes hid behind dirty, messy hair. 'I wish I could do something for you.' He says. 'I think you already have.' I answer. 'You may not remember, but I remember not so long ago, I used to serve you, you were kind to me.' 'That... can't be...' He looked so confused. His hands wrapped around the warm drink, his eyes moving, searching for answers he couldn't find. 'Maybe I can make people remember you. Maybe I can make you remember you.' 'I appreciate the coffee, girl. But go home, it's cold out. Appreciate what you have, shelter.' 'You once had a castle.' I answered him in my mind. I knew I couldn't convince him, not yet anyway. So I stood up. Knowing now why I was the only one who could see. It was because I should help everyone remember, the Great, Forgotten King.
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	As I walked my usual way home from work, I went about everything normally. I nodded at The Baker in her little shop as she wiped down the counters. I reminded myself, like I did every day, that I needed to pay that lady a visit on a lunch break--she looked like she didn't get a lot of business, but everything in the window looked delicious. Next, I went about pointedly staring at the red hand at the traffic light and ignoring The Prophet as he spouted the same old "repent or be damned" nonsense he always spouted on the corner to whomever was in earshot. When I finally crossed, I made the "sorry; I know" face to those passing me, looking really uncomfortable to have to walk next to that guy. I, as always, didn't look toward the freeway underpass, as I came to find that eye contact made me a target of the homeless people there. It was really close to a shelter, but the shelter had its limits, so there were always loiterers outside and under the bridge. However, a title I didn't recognize was shining from under there, and I only caught it with the corner of my eye. I slowed down and looked up just enough to read it. &#x200B; The Forgotten King. &#x200B; Huh. &#x200B; I'd never seen anything like that before. &#x200B; I thought about just picking my pace back up and making it home in time to get a bit of laundry started before going to the gym, but my interest was officially piqued. &#x200B; I found myself walking toward the man, trying to figure out how I was going to go about this. What was I even going to say? Before I even fully realized it, I was standing in front of him. He had been huddled under a worn blanket and didn't really notice me until I was right there. I got the impression that he was very used to people passing literally right next to him without doing anything; there's no way he hadn't heard my footsteps. He peered up at me from under his hat. I was immediately struck by how intelligent his eyes were. They were bright. Sad, but bright. &#x200B; "Can I help you, child?" he asked. His voice was worn and tired, but there was a strength to it that I wasn't anticipating. &#x200B; I found myself feeling rather embarrassed. "Oh, um... I'm sorry. I just wanted to see how you were doing this evening." &#x200B; He seemed a little surprised, but didn't skip a beat. "I'm getting a bit cold, but I'm okay. Thanks for asking." &#x200B; "Um... is there anything I can get for you?" &#x200B; He chuckled slightly. "I don't know how to go about answering that question, honestly." &#x200B; I felt my face flush. Of course, there were probably lots of things I could get for him. "Are you hungry?" &#x200B; He smiled faintly. "Actually, I am doing all right. Just a bit cold." &#x200B; "Well, I can give you some hand warmers, if you'd like? I always carry a few in my bag." At least it was something. &#x200B; He gave me a genuine smile, and I immediately felt happy. It was the oddest thing. "Yes, I would very much appreciate that," he stated, reaching out a bare hand from under his blanket. I pulled out two of the little packets from my bag, placed them in the outstretched, dirty hand, and watched them disappear behind the fleece. "Thank you very much," he said. &#x200B; It was really bothering me that there didn't seem to be anything special about him. The curiosity was almost infuriating. Surely, if he was a king, forgotten or not, he'd give me some kind of tell. Yet... nothing. &#x200B; "Are you sure there's nothing else you absolutely need tonight?" I asked helplessly. &#x200B; He chuckled without mirth, and it seemed like it pierced my soul. I had never thought about how asking how I could help someone could be selfish thing. He absolutely needed a warm place to sleep, a shower, and someone to really care for him. Yet, we both knew that I would not be offering those things. I wanted some trivial thing to be able to do for him, to... what? Check off a "I've been good today" box on my daily list? I didn't even know. Either way, my face was so flushed that I didn't feel the cold on it anymore. &#x200B; He smiled sadly, but his eyes didn't dim. "It's all right. I know. I appreciate that you gave me the hand warmers. They're already doing wonders for me." &#x200B; "I'm... I'm sorry." I didn't know what exactly I was apologizing for. I guess there were lots of things; I was sorry he was in his situation, though I didn't even really know what that situation was aside from needing a home. I knew he was fallen somehow... his tag told me that. I was sorry that I wasn't a better person, too; was it really all that hard to invite him into my house for a least a shower? What's the worst that could happen? He'd steal my mismatched silverware and try to sell it? Or... he could kill me... I guess? But, that didn't really make sense, because it's not like he'd get much out of that. Yet... I still wouldn't. We both knew it. "I don't carry loose change with me," I stammered. "But, I do have some gift cards for Starbucks if you'd like them?" &#x200B; "I don't want your money," he muttered as he looked down. I could tell he was clutching those hand warmers really hard under the blanket. "Thank you." &#x200B; There was an awkward silence for a bit, and then he looked back up at me with a sudden hope. "You know what you could do for me?" he asked. &#x200B; "What is it?" I truly wanted to help him in that moment... within reason of a stranger helping a stranger... I guess. &#x200B; "Do you think you could pray for me?" &#x200B; I was instantly uncomfortable. Like, he might have gotten a better reaction from me had he actually asked to sleep on my sofa. "Oh, um..." was all I could muster. &#x200B; His eyes dimmed. It was devastating. He looked down at the street. "You don't believe in God, do you?" &#x200B; "I... uh..." What to say? "I... I don't know what I believe." &#x200B; He nodded. "That's something I hear a lot. I hope you discover what you believe some day." &#x200B; I shifted my weight and coughed. "I... I hope the hand warmers last a while. And I hope you don't get too cold." He didn't answer, and he didn't look up. I felt so stupid. He'd asked for a prayer. Honestly, was that so hard? Even if there wasn't anyone listening, what harm would talking to my empty room be? "Look, maybe I can muster up a prayer for you tonight. I'm really sorry I can't do anything more." I instantly knew that was a lie, and I'll bet he did as well. But, socially, I think it was true enough that we both would just accept it as truth all around. &#x200B; He nodded again. "Thanks." &#x200B; I went home. I got some laundry into the washer. Then, just like that, everything was like normal again. The Gym Rat was attempting to speak to The Model when I got to the gym for my nightly workout, just like normal. The Manager told me that rent was due tomorrow, like he always does on the last day of the month. And, just like normal, I went to sleep without saying a prayer. &#x200B; The next day, it was normal again, except I wondered if I would see that Forgotten King again. All day at work, I was distracted, hoping he had found a way to be warmer. Maybe the shelter had a space open up? Maybe someone better than I had stopped by and offered something else? &#x200B; On my walk home, past the bakery I forgot to go to once again, I found myself looking up more than normal, trying to get a glimpse of the underpass before I got there. &#x200B; Then, a break in the monotony pulled me out of my thoughts. At the street corner, I realized that I didn't hear anyone shouting at me. Nobody was reminding me of sins I didn't commit or hellfire I didn't believe in. &#x200B; I turned, and I saw The Prophet sitting under the awning of the corner building, sobbing uncontrollably and repeating through his sobs to nobody in particular, "God is dead, God is dead." &#x200B; And, in that moment, I felt my heart stop, and I knew that I wouldn't be talking to The Forgotten King again.	I stop in my footsteps. "The Forgotten King"... sitting in the streets, a blanket barely covering him. No one seems to notice him but me. Even I almost walked by. The coffee warming my hands suddenly felt heavy. I turn to him. 'Hello, could I offer you this?' He looks up somewhat puzzled. 'Why?' He takes the coffee. 'Thank you.' 'I wanted to help you, that's why.' I bent down to be at his eye level. Deep blue mysterious eyes hid behind dirty, messy hair. 'I wish I could do something for you.' He says. 'I think you already have.' I answer. 'You may not remember, but I remember not so long ago, I used to serve you, you were kind to me.' 'That... can't be...' He looked so confused. His hands wrapped around the warm drink, his eyes moving, searching for answers he couldn't find. 'Maybe I can make people remember you. Maybe I can make you remember you.' 'I appreciate the coffee, girl. But go home, it's cold out. Appreciate what you have, shelter.' 'You once had a castle.' I answered him in my mind. I knew I couldn't convince him, not yet anyway. So I stood up. Knowing now why I was the only one who could see. It was because I should help everyone remember, the Great, Forgotten King.
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	As I walked my usual way home from work, I went about everything normally. I nodded at The Baker in her little shop as she wiped down the counters. I reminded myself, like I did every day, that I needed to pay that lady a visit on a lunch break--she looked like she didn't get a lot of business, but everything in the window looked delicious. Next, I went about pointedly staring at the red hand at the traffic light and ignoring The Prophet as he spouted the same old "repent or be damned" nonsense he always spouted on the corner to whomever was in earshot. When I finally crossed, I made the "sorry; I know" face to those passing me, looking really uncomfortable to have to walk next to that guy. I, as always, didn't look toward the freeway underpass, as I came to find that eye contact made me a target of the homeless people there. It was really close to a shelter, but the shelter had its limits, so there were always loiterers outside and under the bridge. However, a title I didn't recognize was shining from under there, and I only caught it with the corner of my eye. I slowed down and looked up just enough to read it. &#x200B; The Forgotten King. &#x200B; Huh. &#x200B; I'd never seen anything like that before. &#x200B; I thought about just picking my pace back up and making it home in time to get a bit of laundry started before going to the gym, but my interest was officially piqued. &#x200B; I found myself walking toward the man, trying to figure out how I was going to go about this. What was I even going to say? Before I even fully realized it, I was standing in front of him. He had been huddled under a worn blanket and didn't really notice me until I was right there. I got the impression that he was very used to people passing literally right next to him without doing anything; there's no way he hadn't heard my footsteps. He peered up at me from under his hat. I was immediately struck by how intelligent his eyes were. They were bright. Sad, but bright. &#x200B; "Can I help you, child?" he asked. His voice was worn and tired, but there was a strength to it that I wasn't anticipating. &#x200B; I found myself feeling rather embarrassed. "Oh, um... I'm sorry. I just wanted to see how you were doing this evening." &#x200B; He seemed a little surprised, but didn't skip a beat. "I'm getting a bit cold, but I'm okay. Thanks for asking." &#x200B; "Um... is there anything I can get for you?" &#x200B; He chuckled slightly. "I don't know how to go about answering that question, honestly." &#x200B; I felt my face flush. Of course, there were probably lots of things I could get for him. "Are you hungry?" &#x200B; He smiled faintly. "Actually, I am doing all right. Just a bit cold." &#x200B; "Well, I can give you some hand warmers, if you'd like? I always carry a few in my bag." At least it was something. &#x200B; He gave me a genuine smile, and I immediately felt happy. It was the oddest thing. "Yes, I would very much appreciate that," he stated, reaching out a bare hand from under his blanket. I pulled out two of the little packets from my bag, placed them in the outstretched, dirty hand, and watched them disappear behind the fleece. "Thank you very much," he said. &#x200B; It was really bothering me that there didn't seem to be anything special about him. The curiosity was almost infuriating. Surely, if he was a king, forgotten or not, he'd give me some kind of tell. Yet... nothing. &#x200B; "Are you sure there's nothing else you absolutely need tonight?" I asked helplessly. &#x200B; He chuckled without mirth, and it seemed like it pierced my soul. I had never thought about how asking how I could help someone could be selfish thing. He absolutely needed a warm place to sleep, a shower, and someone to really care for him. Yet, we both knew that I would not be offering those things. I wanted some trivial thing to be able to do for him, to... what? Check off a "I've been good today" box on my daily list? I didn't even know. Either way, my face was so flushed that I didn't feel the cold on it anymore. &#x200B; He smiled sadly, but his eyes didn't dim. "It's all right. I know. I appreciate that you gave me the hand warmers. They're already doing wonders for me." &#x200B; "I'm... I'm sorry." I didn't know what exactly I was apologizing for. I guess there were lots of things; I was sorry he was in his situation, though I didn't even really know what that situation was aside from needing a home. I knew he was fallen somehow... his tag told me that. I was sorry that I wasn't a better person, too; was it really all that hard to invite him into my house for a least a shower? What's the worst that could happen? He'd steal my mismatched silverware and try to sell it? Or... he could kill me... I guess? But, that didn't really make sense, because it's not like he'd get much out of that. Yet... I still wouldn't. We both knew it. "I don't carry loose change with me," I stammered. "But, I do have some gift cards for Starbucks if you'd like them?" &#x200B; "I don't want your money," he muttered as he looked down. I could tell he was clutching those hand warmers really hard under the blanket. "Thank you." &#x200B; There was an awkward silence for a bit, and then he looked back up at me with a sudden hope. "You know what you could do for me?" he asked. &#x200B; "What is it?" I truly wanted to help him in that moment... within reason of a stranger helping a stranger... I guess. &#x200B; "Do you think you could pray for me?" &#x200B; I was instantly uncomfortable. Like, he might have gotten a better reaction from me had he actually asked to sleep on my sofa. "Oh, um..." was all I could muster. &#x200B; His eyes dimmed. It was devastating. He looked down at the street. "You don't believe in God, do you?" &#x200B; "I... uh..." What to say? "I... I don't know what I believe." &#x200B; He nodded. "That's something I hear a lot. I hope you discover what you believe some day." &#x200B; I shifted my weight and coughed. "I... I hope the hand warmers last a while. And I hope you don't get too cold." He didn't answer, and he didn't look up. I felt so stupid. He'd asked for a prayer. Honestly, was that so hard? Even if there wasn't anyone listening, what harm would talking to my empty room be? "Look, maybe I can muster up a prayer for you tonight. I'm really sorry I can't do anything more." I instantly knew that was a lie, and I'll bet he did as well. But, socially, I think it was true enough that we both would just accept it as truth all around. &#x200B; He nodded again. "Thanks." &#x200B; I went home. I got some laundry into the washer. Then, just like that, everything was like normal again. The Gym Rat was attempting to speak to The Model when I got to the gym for my nightly workout, just like normal. The Manager told me that rent was due tomorrow, like he always does on the last day of the month. And, just like normal, I went to sleep without saying a prayer. &#x200B; The next day, it was normal again, except I wondered if I would see that Forgotten King again. All day at work, I was distracted, hoping he had found a way to be warmer. Maybe the shelter had a space open up? Maybe someone better than I had stopped by and offered something else? &#x200B; On my walk home, past the bakery I forgot to go to once again, I found myself looking up more than normal, trying to get a glimpse of the underpass before I got there. &#x200B; Then, a break in the monotony pulled me out of my thoughts. At the street corner, I realized that I didn't hear anyone shouting at me. Nobody was reminding me of sins I didn't commit or hellfire I didn't believe in. &#x200B; I turned, and I saw The Prophet sitting under the awning of the corner building, sobbing uncontrollably and repeating through his sobs to nobody in particular, "God is dead, God is dead." &#x200B; And, in that moment, I felt my heart stop, and I knew that I wouldn't be talking to The Forgotten King again.	Long ago, there was the king with no name, ruler of all he surveyed. With a boisterous self-confidence befitting of the position, he fought all those who dared challenge him. The gods themselves, threatened by his increasing power, put a curse on him. He would fade into insecurity, and find himself without anything but the clothes on his back for the rest eternity. Not too long after, the masses began to revolt against the royalty, and he found wave over wave of peasants assaulting his palace, demanding reparations for the decades of injustice that they had suffered. At the sight of his own people rejecting him, he fled, far, far away, and never looked back. A millennium later, he ended up in New York City, doing what everyone else in the god-forsaken city did; mind his own business. Drinking from a bottle of vodka, he grimaced, as he knew that there was no could get drunk. The curse prevented him altering his state of mind in any way, so that he couldn’t escape from his life through drugs. On this particularly average day, something slightly unusual happened. A rich looking boy, looking about seventeen years old, approached him. The king snorted; if he was looking to give pity, the kid had another thing coming. Hesitating for a couple of seconds, the boy asked, “Who… are you?” A little bit confused at the question, the king took a moment to contemplate. With a scowl on his face, he replied, “Just another homeless man. Now bugger off, kid.” He took a swig of his drink and flipped the kid the bird. The kid, looking a bit confused and annoyed, said, “No, I mean… why are you a forgotten king?” The king took a spit take. “Who told you that?”, he asked sharply. “Nobody told me, it’s just that… well, this’ll take a while to explain.” The strange boy took a seat on the curb next to the king. “Ever since I can remember, I’ve been able to see these… things, titles, float above people. Some people have professions, others have traits, but it’s always been things that you could figure out about them just from looking. This is the first time that I’ve seen anything like… yours.” “Ah.” The king smiled knowingly. “You, too, have been cursed by the gods. The curse of knowledge, I see. I, myself, have the curse of immortality. Fate must have brought us together.” With a bemused frown, the kid said, “What gods? And, no offense, but I don’t believe in the fate nonsense.” Laughing heartily for the first time in many years, the Forgotten King answered, “No, not the idea of fate. The person named Fate, who challenges the gods’ machinations.” He stood up. “And it looks like the next war is going to start.” The king looked to the boy expectantly. “Are you ready to fight some gods?”
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".	Everyone has a title. I’ve always been able to see them, but it didn’t take long to figure out nobody else could. Mom heard me sounding out the text shortly after I learned to read, and asked me what I was doing. When I told her, she laughed and said something about how kids had such vivid imaginations. She didn’t laugh when I asked what a philanderer was when dad got home that night. After that, I learned to keep my mouth shut. After a couple decades of seeing titles, I don’t really pay much attention to them anymore. Most of them aren’t all that interesting: “Jeff’s Mom”, “The Mediocre Rapper”, “The Mayonnaise Eater”, “Incel 554280”, etc. Today, though, I see one that made me do a double take. “The Forgotten King”. “Hello, can I help you?” He asks politely. “Are you looking for a specific book today?” I glance around the store, remembering why I’m here. I saw this used book shop a few weeks ago, and thought I might be able to find a gift for Mom here. She likes old novels. Says they have more character. “Umm, yeah.” I mumble, trying to keep my eyes on his face, not the distracting title hovering over his head. “Do you, uh, have anything by John Smith?” So sue me. It’s hard to think of a fake name when you’re distracted. His eyelid twitches as he stares at me. “Are you an idiot?” “Uh...” I avoid his gaze, my eyes wandering around the store. “It’s possible. I’ve been called that often enough.” Desperate to change the subject, my eyes fall on another customer browsing in the cooking section. “What in the blazes is The Order of Tesswold?” Next thing I know, he’s grabbing me by the collar and hauling me over the counter. “Who are you?Where did you hear that name?” Struggling for an explanation, my eyes flicker to a mirror, to the title hovering over my own head. I’ve never shared it with anyone before, but I’ve never met anyone with a title as strange as mine, either. “I’m The King’s Eye.”	Long ago, there was the king with no name, ruler of all he surveyed. With a boisterous self-confidence befitting of the position, he fought all those who dared challenge him. The gods themselves, threatened by his increasing power, put a curse on him. He would fade into insecurity, and find himself without anything but the clothes on his back for the rest eternity. Not too long after, the masses began to revolt against the royalty, and he found wave over wave of peasants assaulting his palace, demanding reparations for the decades of injustice that they had suffered. At the sight of his own people rejecting him, he fled, far, far away, and never looked back. A millennium later, he ended up in New York City, doing what everyone else in the god-forsaken city did; mind his own business. Drinking from a bottle of vodka, he grimaced, as he knew that there was no could get drunk. The curse prevented him altering his state of mind in any way, so that he couldn’t escape from his life through drugs. On this particularly average day, something slightly unusual happened. A rich looking boy, looking about seventeen years old, approached him. The king snorted; if he was looking to give pity, the kid had another thing coming. Hesitating for a couple of seconds, the boy asked, “Who… are you?” A little bit confused at the question, the king took a moment to contemplate. With a scowl on his face, he replied, “Just another homeless man. Now bugger off, kid.” He took a swig of his drink and flipped the kid the bird. The kid, looking a bit confused and annoyed, said, “No, I mean… why are you a forgotten king?” The king took a spit take. “Who told you that?”, he asked sharply. “Nobody told me, it’s just that… well, this’ll take a while to explain.” The strange boy took a seat on the curb next to the king. “Ever since I can remember, I’ve been able to see these… things, titles, float above people. Some people have professions, others have traits, but it’s always been things that you could figure out about them just from looking. This is the first time that I’ve seen anything like… yours.” “Ah.” The king smiled knowingly. “You, too, have been cursed by the gods. The curse of knowledge, I see. I, myself, have the curse of immortality. Fate must have brought us together.” With a bemused frown, the kid said, “What gods? And, no offense, but I don’t believe in the fate nonsense.” Laughing heartily for the first time in many years, the Forgotten King answered, “No, not the idea of fate. The person named Fate, who challenges the gods’ machinations.” He stood up. “And it looks like the next war is going to start.” The king looked to the boy expectantly. “Are you ready to fight some gods?”

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