Chaos On The Battlefield

Well, I've been on hiatus for a while now. I'm not really sure why, but I just couldn't bring myself to get past that 30 post mark. Of course, this one changes things, and hopefully shall bring about changes in how I run this blog.

This story is set in the universe of Warhammer 40,000. Warhammer, Warhammer 40,000, Space Marines and just about everything except character names are copyright of Games Workshop. That having been said, the characters themselves are copyright of me.

In the grim darkness of the far future there is no peace, no respite, no forgiveness. There is only war.


Supreme Planetary Defence Minister Jason K. Bennett was disgruntled. This was not an unusual state of affairs due to his Home world’s proximity to the massive Warpstorm known as the Eye of Terror. For his entire 80 year lifespan he had been either battling Chaos incursions or training for battles. But on this particular evening he was even more disgruntled than usual. The reason for this disgruntlement was standing before him, ordering him around as if he were some common soldier.
The man before him was no mere man. He was Captain Johan of the Black Knights Chapter of Space Marines and could be described as nothing short of superhuman. Standing at over 8 foot tall, Captain Johan wore an ancient suit of black-painted Power Armour. His presence was imposing to say the least. He was explaining his battle strategy to Minister Bennett and several other Defence Ministers.
Minister Bennett nodded politely as Captain Johan spoke, knowing that to disagree would be a folly of immense proportions. The Space Marines had arrived to aid thanks to a personal request, but they had made it clear that they would just as readily destroy the entire planet as save it. If he were to protect his home, he would have to accept humility.
After Captain Johan had finished explaining his plan Minister Bennett rose from his seat and strode over to the window. He sighed deeply and looked towards the horizon. Just beyond the walls of his city lay the Chaos encampment. After their initial attack secured them several Skyshield landing pads they had suddenly ceased hostilities, content to repel counterattacks whilst more reinforcements arrived.
After two days of ineffectual attempts to remove them, the Space Marines had suddenly made contact. Minister Bennett had all but begged for their aid, and they had agreed. It was barely an hour later, but the Space Marines were already gearing up for their assault.
“I take it you will not be joining us for the attack, Supreme Minister.” Captain Johan said. It was not a question.
“As you so delicately explained, I am required here in case your assault is unsuccessful. Do you really believe that a hundred men will be enough?”
“We have the blessings of the Emperor with us. The Chaos scum will not escape our rightful fury.”
“You say that with such conviction that it is impossible not to believe you. May the Emperor guide you.”
“And may He protect you as well.” Captain Johan said before leaving. Minister Bennett turned back to the window and sighed again.
“May He protect us all.”

Deep within the Chaos encampment a man by the name of Qo’tar was itching with frustration.
“I do not enjoy this waiting Tai’kor. For more than two days you have had us waiting. We should be out there in glorious combat, tearing the followers of the false emperor limb from limb. Why do you insist that we wait?”
“For reinforcements my lord.” The Sorcerer replied.
“We do not need any more reinforcements, we have enough already.”
“My lord, one cannot just charge at an entire planet’s worth of men. We must ensure that we attack precisely, destroying their morale. Only then can we charge upon the palace and take claim of this world.” Just as Tai’kor was managing to calm his lord’s irritable nature, a Chaos Marine by the name of Wallace entered their bunker.
“My Lord, we have reports that Imperial Space Marines have attacked the western defences.”
Qo’tar grabbed his helmet and grinned maliciously.
“You may keep your waiting games for a more cowardly Lord. For now, the Blood God calls me to battle.” Qo’tar pushed Wallace out of the way and left the bunker.
Tai’kor helped Wallace to his feet, “Well, it looks like the final act is about to play out earlier than expected.”

Chaplain Odiel crushed the skull of yet another Chaos Marine beneath his Crozius. He glanced at his Assault Squad. The Power Axe of Sergeant Zeik tore another foul warrior in half. Around them the rest of the squad dispatched their remaining foes. Chaplain Odiel bellowed an order. As one, the squad activated their jump packs and soared up the side of the sheer wall.
As they approached the top they came under heavy fire. A unit of Chaos Marines wielding Heavy Bolters were protecting the battlements above. Though most shots bounced off of their Power Armour, some hit home, slaying three Space Marines outright. They fell back down to the ground below, but the squad did not falter. Instead they aimed skywards with their Bolt Pistols and unleashed a salvo of their own. Unfortunately the Chaos Marines were also wearing Power Armour and only one fell as a bullet punched through his eye.
Before he even hit the ground the Assault Squad had reached them. Chaplain Odiel wasted no time in smashing an opponent’s skull beneath his Crozius, which he then swung around to break the ribcage of another foe. Odiel dodged a return attack and head butted his foe in reply. The Chaos Marine staggered backwards, leaving himself open for the Crozius to sink into his chest.
To his right Sergeant Zeik hacked through two more Space Marines. He spun around like a mini tornado, his axe a whirling weapon of death. It tore its’ way through both flesh and bone alike, its’ crackling blue energy field making a mockery of any armour it encountered. Sergeant Zeik was therefore surprised when it came to a sudden and very definite stop. Looking down he discovered it was stuck halfway into the barrel of a Heavy Bolter. Looking up he stared as the Chaos Marine pulled the trigger, unleashing three huge shells into Zeiks’ abdomen from point blank range. Gritting his teeth, Sergeant Zeik punched his fist into the face of his enemy, who stumbled backward and over the parapet.
Chaplain Odiel turned to the sergeant and leaned in close so that their helmets were almost touching.
“Can you fight?”
“I’m afraid not sir. I’m unable to feel my lower torso.”
“Then wait here. I’ll send an Apothecary as soon as possible.”
Chaplain Odiel lay his old friend down as comfortably as possible, then activated his Jump Pack and dived into the encampment below.

Fiction Battle: Bloodkind Chieftain Vs Magdalena

Thanks to having to cycle 13 miles to work and a further 13 miles home every day this week, I've been too exhausted to actually sit down and write. Since I'll be cycling all next week too, I may have to switch to weekend updates.
Anyways, I won the previous round of my fiction battle, so I got to go on and face off against Calamari with her character Magdalena, from Magician. I'll add links later.


Magdalena Blackwood was furious. Her two young children were causing a ruckus in the back seat, which would have been flat out dangerous if the car had actually been moving. As it was she was stuck in a traffic jam. She glanced at her watch impatiently and noticed that her kids would be late for school. If it weren’t for her children in the back she would have gotten out to investigate the cause of the hold-up.
After five minutes of honking her horn she finally got fed up and got out of her car. Clambering up onto the roof she cupped her hand above her eyes to protect them from the glaring sun and peered as far ahead as she could.
“Kids, get out of the car.” Magdalena said as she jumped down. As she practically dragged her son out the fleeing crowd reached them. Magdalena ran around to the other side and grabbed her daughter by the wrist, then she began running.
“Mom, what’s happening?” Her step-daughter, Vivi, asked. Before she could reply Magdalena threw herself and her children to the ground, barely dodging the car that hurtled over their heads.
“Mom, that was our car!” Zach screamed as he got back on his feet.
“Zach, Vivi, listen carefully. I want you to run home, don’t stop, not for anything.”
“But Mom, what-?”
“Just run!” Magdalena drew her pistol and left the two children in the middle of the fleeing crowd. She didn’t look back.
Once she returned to where her car had previously been she saw the cause of the traffic jam. A red-skinned man dressed in furs was throwing cars around like plastic toys. He had his back turned to her, which gave her a good look at the rather large sword he had strapped to his back.
She pulled her police badge from its’ position on her belt and held it up in front of her. Holding her gun next to it she accosted the man.
“Halt! My name is Officer Blackwood and I’m placing you under arrest! Come quietly and I won’t hurt you!”
The red man turned slowly towards her. His face was hidden by a red and white mask, but it didn’t cover his mouth. He smiled to himself, then calmly picked up a car and threw it towards her. Magdalena once again found herself barely dodging a flying car. As she rolled to her feet she gripped her pistol tighter and unleashed several rounds on hot lead at his chest.
He didn’t seem to notice.
Instead he casually reached over his shoulder and drew his sword. Then, weapon raised, he charged at her. Magdalena holstered her weapon and focused. She dodged at the very last moment that she dared and fired an ice spell at his flank. The ice smashed against his skin harmlessly.
Magdalena hopped over the crash barrier and onto the other side of the highway, then began sprinting in the opposite direction from which she had sent her children. With the red man hot on her heels she fumbled in her pocket for her cell phone. Before she could find it, however, a loud honking caught her attention. Looking up, she realised that she had run straight into oncoming traffic.
She barely jumped out of the way of the bus in time. The red man wasn’t so lucky, taking a bus to the face at +50MPH. Although the bus came out far worse, crumpling around him as if it were made of tin foil, he didn’t have any leverage against it. He found himself crushed between the bus and the crash barrier. The bus scraped its’ way along the barrier until it hit a bit of rubble, sending it over the barrier and onto the remains of a truck.
Magdalena picked herself up and gaped in shock at the wreckage before her. The bus had been completely decimated from the impact.
“Well, I guess I won’t be needing to call for backup after all.” Magdalena said to herself as she slowly wandered closer to inspect the man. Before she reached where the bus had ended its’ final journey a police helicopter descended above it. It trained its’ spotlight on her and turned its’ loudspeaker on.
“You there! Put your hands over your head.”
“Hey, I’m one of you guys!” Magdalena searched her pockets for her badge but couldn’t find it. With no other option she slowly raised her arms. At that precise moment the bus suddenly hurtled sideways. The red man untangled himself from the wreckage of the truck by means of ripping it in two with his bare hands.
“Holy! What the heck is that thing?” The man in the helicopter shouted. The red man glanced up at the source of the noise and growled angrily. He then picked up a piece of the truck and threw it skywards, only just falling short of the helicopter.
“Okay mister, you asked for it.” The helicopter had a mini-gun attached to the underside of it, a sign of the times they lived in. It unleashed a hail of bullets at the red man, who simply shielded his eyes with his arm and let the bullets bounce off harmlessly.
The helicopter man obviously got annoyed because he fired a rocket at the man instead. This time he batted it away with his sword. With the helicopter still shooting at him he paced over to a motorbike, the owner of which was lying in several different places. The red man gripped it by the engine and felt its’ balance. He then squinted at the helicopter before spinning around in a circle. After two spins he released the motorbike, which spun through the air in an upwards arc. It slammed into the tail of the helicopter and continued on through. The helicopter, now missing its’ rear stabilising propellers, spun in circles before crashing into the side of a nearby building. With this interruption removed, the red man turned to face Magdalena once more.
“I am so dead.” She muttered to herself under her breath.

Zokusho: Terra Raiga Chapter 2

You may notice something familiar about this post. That's because the second half of it is the fiction battle from last week. Well, I liked it so much that I decided to make it canon.


The white panther stalked through the woods. It had tracked its’ prey for nearly an hour now, waiting for it to split from the herd. It moved stealthily closer to the waterhole. The young deer finally moved, leaving its’ mother behind. The white panther made no move. It waited patiently while the deer manoeuvred through the difficult terrain. It was barely ten yards away. The white panther tensed, ready to pounce. Five yards.
Just as the white panther made its’ move, three arrows thudded into the side of its’ head. It crashed into the young deer, snapping the small creature in two with the force. The nearby herd of deer heard the crash and bolted.
Yilinan landed next to her kills without making a sound. The two other members of her hunting claw landed next to her. They were Wood Nymphs, the elite of her clan. Yilinan was the daughter of Lielae, the Lady of the clan. All three Nymphs had bright green skin and dark green hair. Brown pigment had been painted onto their bodies in complex clan patterns. They wore no clothes or shoes, except for the pouches slung over their shoulders and belts around their waists, which held their hunting equipment.
Yilinan instructed her two claw members to ready the kills for transport back to their clan. As they busied themselves with their tasks, Yilinan kept her ears pricked and her eyes keen. They did not wish to share the same fate as the white panther. Just as Rhihali had finished wrapping the deer, Yilinan heard a great crashing sound. All three readied their bows and jumped into the trees silently, leaving the half-wrapped white panther where behind.
All three Nymphs exchanged nervous glances as the crashing sound came steadily closer. For fully twenty-two minutes the three Nymphs didn’t move even in the slightest, even their breathing was synchronised to the gentle rustling of the leaves. Not that they needed to, the crashing sound drowned out everything else.
Suddenly the crashing sound stopped. The three Nymphs glanced at each other, confused. They listened intently but could not hear anything coming from the direction the noise had come from. There was no audible sign that there had ever been a sound. Still, the three wouldn’t risk moving closer until they new what they were dealing with.
Endra slowly placed her hand against the trunk of the tree she was hiding in. Once her palm was flat against the bark, she closed her eyes and concentrated. She became one with the tree. From there, she sent her mind along the roots until she came in contact with another tree, into which she transferred. She continued in this manner until she had reached the location of the noise. Her mind raced up the nearest tree trunk and she looked out.
She did not recognise what she saw, it was like a man, but as shiny as an arrow-head. Before she could take it all in, the thing turned its’ head toward the tree that currently housed her mind and punched., breaking the tree in half.
Endra’s body let out a brief scream before collapsing to the ground. Both Yilinan and Rhihali jumped out of their respective trees and began running. Behind them, the crashing sound started back up. However, by the time the thing had reached Endra’s lifeless body, they had long since vanished, leaving no trace of their passing.

Theodora Tonks was sitting inside the library once more, buried among a pile of books. Without warning a knife appeared at her throat, poised to deliver a killing blow. Before it struck home, however, it became a sardine.
“Since when could you do that?” Geri asked, dropping the sardine.
“Since I began studying transmogrification.”
“You do realise that everyone else from your class is busy celebrating their graduation right now, don’t you?” Geri cocked an eyebrow. Normally her eyebrows and eyes were hidden from sight by night-vision goggles and a bandana, but her parents had made her ‘dress nicely’ today. Instead she wore her goggles around her neck.
“Bleh. I’ve never been one for parties. You remember my fiftieth?”
“No. I remember our entire family waiting around a table with a massive cake proclaiming ‘Happy Fiftieth’ on it, but I don’t remember a party.” Geri pushed some books aside and sat on the table.
“Exactly.”
“I found you in this exact seat. The exact same seat you’ve been using for over thirty years.”
“It’s a comfy seat.”
Geri sighed, “You know, one day you’re going to wake up and realise that you’ve become a 560 year-old spinster with a house full of books and no friends.”
“I will also be the most powerful mage in history,” Theodora curtly replied, “And if you don’t mind I’ve got some practising to do before I receive my first assignment.”
“Pfeh. You’ll probably be cleaning up garbage from the duct works. That’s all Manipulators are good for.” Geri bounced away from the table and ran back to the party outside. Theodora picked up the sardine from the table and used her magic to place it gently in the rubbish bin.
“At least it’ll give me time to study.”

In a field on a world far, far beyond the reaches of imagination as men know it, a small butterfly landed on a flower. It made its’ way past the jagged thorns and towards the delicate circle of red petals. As it approached the flower twitched and snapped shut, enclosing the butterfly completely.
As the flower began to excrete powerful acids, the butterfly laid its’ eggs and peacefully died, secreting a paralyzing toxin that would prevent the flower from opening until the caterpillars had hatched. All across the field this was being repeated as an entire flock of butterflies descended upon the unfortunate flowers.
In the middle of the field a huge explosion occurred, despite the lack of anything to explode. As the smoke dispersed a small child of roughly nine human years coughed. His crimson-trimmed silver robes stood out starkly against the green of the field. A few more coughs, then the child clambered to his feet.
“Note to self: Never listen when Raziel suggests combining time and teleportation magic. You will not, as he suggested, summon ‘Miss December’ from the calendar he found, but will instead transport yourself to a field of thorny plants.” Jack pulled the head of one of the flowers from his rump, wincing as he did so.
After taking in the landscape, Jack checked the jumping crystal he had used. He had carved a time displacement rune into it, but was now regretting that decision. The crystal glowed with a dull light.
“Well, at least there’s a strong magical field on this world, so it shouldn’t take long to recharge and go home. So all I have to do is find a way to kill time,” Jack glanced around the field once more, “Should’ve brought a camera.”
For a few minutes Jack sat and watched the butterflies getting eaten, but found himself bored. He walked over to the nearby woods where he sat down with his back to a tree and began to read a book.
He hadn’t gotten past the first page when the tree next to his exploded in a shower of splinters. Jack instinctively used his body to protect the book. When he dared to turn around he saw two massive monsters duking it out barely more than ten yards away. The first creature, which had thick splinters embedded across its’ back, was a mix of a gorilla and a wolf. It reached more than ten feet in height, but was crouched over, walking partially on its’ huge fists. It had a sword larger than most men sticking out of one shoulder.
Hanging from the handle of that sword was a humanoid. It too was larger than most men and more muscle-bound than any Jack had ever met. It’s crimson skin shined with gore, presumably from the creature it was fighting. With seemingly impossible dexterity it placed its’ feet against the raging creature and pulled its’ sword free. After a backwards somersault it landed in a crouched position. With its’ free hand it pushed its’ dreadlocks out of its’ face, revealing a white mask with red patterns.
The larger, wolf/gorilla lunged, but the red man spun quickly, slicing through the large creatures’ wrist and removing its’ hand. It was obvious that the battle had gone on for a long time.
The creature roared in pain, but was quietened when the red man plunged his sword into its’ face. With one hand he withdrew it and let the creature slump to the ground. Then he turned his attention to Jack.
“Fing! Fing gar rhuk creng!” He yelled. Jack had no clue what language he was speaking in, let alone what he was saying. Jack just shook his head and gave a theatrically large shrug. The red man charged.
Jack barely had enough time to choose a spell before the red man had closed the gap. He leapt to the side, barely dodging the swing from the huge sword. The tree he had been standing in front of was cleanly sliced in two. With trained speed Jack scrawled a symbol in the air and passed his hand through it. A sheet of ice sprang up at the feet of the red man. The ice rose up in thick stalagmites, trapping the red man between them. Jack turned and fled.
Before he had even gotten ten strides away, Jack heard cracking from behind him. He turned to see that the red man was already free.
“What? That can’t be right?” Jack muttered to himself. As the red man swung his sword over his shoulder and began another charge Jack scrawled desperately in the air in front of him. Unlike the hasty ice spell he had used earlier, this symbol was intricately complex, requiring great sweeping motions and small but precise scribbles. The finished symbol hung in the air, a blazing white against the green grass.
By this time the red man had nearly reached him, so Jack didn’t have a chance to admire his artistic skills. He hastily slammed his palm against the symbol, unleashing its’ power upon his foe.
Between Jack and the red man a great gust of wind had sprung up. The red man slammed his sword sideways into the ground and hung on for all he was worth. The wind only got stronger, lifting him from his feet with such force that he was parallel to the ground. Nevertheless, he didn’t let go of his sword, holding on with incredible strength. It was clear to Jack that his spell would run out of power long before his foe tired, so he tried a different strategy. He quickly drew another symbol on the ground, which glowed green. The ground holding the sword in place gave way. The red man was flung backwards by the wind, which had already begun to peter out. He still crashed into the forest with enough force to pulverise the first tree though.
Jack slumped to the ground. Despite using two spells at once, at a much higher power level than usual though, he didn’t feel as drained as he normally would have. He could feel the magic of this world coursing through him, strengthening him. Making his magic more powerful than ever.
A thought suddenly occurred to him. He reached inside his pocket once more and withdrew the crystal. It was shining as brightly as the day it was first charged. Now he could go home.
Before he did though, he heard a splintering sound from the direction the red man had landed. Jack stood up and watched as his foe flexed his shoulder muscles, a grin on what was visible of his face beneath the mask. He hefted his sword up and noticed something stuck to the end of it. He reached up and removed the offending item.
It was the book Jack had just begun to read.
The red man deftly sniffed it. Then, to Jack’s amazement, he took a bite out of it. After some thoughtful chewing the red man spit it back out and sneered loudly. He threw the remainder of the book into the air and chopped it in half with his sword. He then looked straight at Jack’s face. If he had been capable of fear, he would have been petrified by the expression of sheer anger emanating from Jack’s features.
“Oh buddy, you’re in for it now!” Jack said. Feeling the magic surge through him, he began drawing a symbol in the air in front of him.

Fiction Battle: Jack versus Bloodkind Chieftan

Okay, this is something for a little competition I'm taking part in over at Legends Of Satura. Every year, around the anniversary of the MLC's founding, we have a series of fiction battles. Each entrant selects a character and then lots are drawn (In a manner of speaking). We battle each other in a knockout tournament. How do we decide which character wins? Well, both fighters begin their own version of the fight scene, but leave it open-ended. Then the other members vote for who wrote the coolest piece. Afterwards, the winner gets to wrap up the fight.

Full rules can be found here. My character, the Bloodkind Chieftan (Members of the Bloodkind can be found in the post prior to this one) faces off against Jack Macalaster, from Zokusho: Tahou Ibun. Yes, this means that I may not get to finish, because I may not win. Either way, we get some great stories.


In a field on a world far, far beyond the reaches of imagination as men know it, a small butterfly landed on a flower. It made its’ way past the jagged thorns and towards the delicate circle of red petals. As it approached the flower twitched and snapped shut, enclosing the butterfly completely.
As the flower began to excrete powerful acids, the butterfly laid its’ eggs and peacefully died, secreting a paralyzing toxin that would prevent the flower from opening until the caterpillars had hatched. All across the field this was being repeated as an entire flock of butterflies descended upon the unfortunate flowers.
In the middle of the field a huge explosion occurred, despite the lack of anything to explode. As the smoke dispersed a small child of roughly nine human years coughed. His crimson-trimmed silver robes stood out starkly against the green of the field. A few more coughs, then the child clambered to his feet.
“Note to self: Never listen when Raziel suggests combining time and teleportation magic. You will not, as he suggested, summon ‘Miss December’ from the calendar he found, but will instead transport yourself to a field of thorny plants.” Jack pulled the head of one of the flowers from his rump, wincing as he did so.
After taking in the landscape, Jack checked the jumping crystal he had used. He had carved a time displacement rune into it, but was now regretting that decision. The crystal glowed with a dull light.
“Well, at least there’s a strong magical field on this world, so it shouldn’t take long to recharge and go home. So all I have to do is find a way to kill time,” Jack glanced around the field once more, “Should’ve brought a camera.”
For a few minutes Jack sat and watched the butterflies getting eaten, but found himself bored. He walked over to the nearby woods where he sat down with his back to a tree and began to read a book.
He hadn’t gotten past the first page when the tree next to his exploded in a shower of splinters. Jack instinctively used his body to protect the book. When he dared to turn around he saw two massive monsters duking it out barely more than ten yards away. The first creature, which had thick splinters embedded across its’ back, was a mix of a gorilla and a wolf. It reached more than ten feet in height, but was crouched over, walking partially on its’ huge fists. It had a sword larger than most men sticking out of one shoulder.
Hanging from the handle of that sword was a humanoid. It too was larger than most men and more muscle-bound than any Jack had ever met. It’s crimson skin shined with gore, presumably from the creature it was fighting. With seemingly impossible dexterity it placed its’ feet against the raging creature and pulled its’ sword free. After a backwards somersault it landed in a crouched position. With its’ free hand it pushed its’ dreadlocks out of its’ face, revealing a white mask with red patterns.
The larger, wolf/gorilla lunged, but the red man spun quickly, slicing through the large creatures’ wrist and removing its’ hand. It was obvious that the battle had gone on for a long time.
The creature roared in pain, but was quietened when the red man plunged his sword into its’ face. With one hand he withdrew it and let the creature slump to the ground. Then he turned his attention to Jack.
“Fing! Fing gar rhuk creng!” He yelled. Jack had no clue what language he was speaking in, let alone what he was saying. Jack just shook his head and gave a theatrically large shrug. The red man charged.
Jack barely had enough time to choose a spell before the red man had closed the gap. He leapt to the side, barely dodging the swing from the huge sword. The tree he had been standing in front of was cleanly sliced in two. With trained speed Jack scrawled a symbol in the air and passed his hand through it. A sheet of ice sprang up at the feet of the red man. The ice rose up in thick stalagmites, trapping the red man between them. Jack turned and fled.
Before he had even gotten ten strides away, Jack heard cracking from behind him. He turned to see that the red man was already free.
“What? That can’t be right?” Jack muttered to himself. As the red man swung his sword over his shoulder and began another charge Jack scrawled desperately in the air in front of him. Unlike the hasty ice spell he had used earlier, this symbol was intricately complex, requiring great sweeping motions and small but precise scribbles. The finished symbol hung in the air, a blazing white against the green grass.
By this time the red man had nearly reached him, so Jack didn’t have a chance to admire his artistic skills. He hastily slammed his palm against the symbol, unleashing its’ power upon his foe.
Between Jack and the red man a great gust of wind had sprung up. The red man slammed his sword sideways into the ground and hung on for all he was worth. The wind only got stronger, lifting him from his feet with such force that he was parallel to the ground. Nevertheless, he didn’t let go of his sword, holding on with incredible strength. It was clear to Jack that his spell would run out of power long before his foe tired, so he tried a different strategy. He quickly drew another symbol on the ground, which glowed green. The ground holding the sword in place gave way. The red man was flung backwards by the wind, which had already begun to peter out. He still crashed into the forest with enough force to pulverise the first tree though.
Jack lumped to the ground. Despite using two spells at once, at a much higher power level than usual though, he didn’t feel as drained as he normally would have. He could feel the magic of this world coursing through him, strengthening him. Making his magic more powerful than ever.
A thought suddenly occurred to him. He reached inside his pocket once more and withdrew the crystal. It was shining as brightly as the day it was first charged. Now he could go home.
Before he did though, he heard a splintering sound from the direction the red man had landed. Jack stood up and watched as his foe flexed his shoulder muscles, a grin on what was visible of his beneath the mask. He hefted his sword up and noticed something stuck to the end of it. He reached up and removed the offending item.
It was the book Jack had just begun to read.
The red man deftly sniffed it. Then, to Jack’s amazement, he took a bite out of it. After some thoughtful chewing the red man spit it back out and sneered loudly. He threw the remainder of the book into the air and chopped it in half with his sword. He then looked straight at Jack’s face. If he had been capable of fear, he would have been petrified by the expression of sheer anger emanating from Jack’s features.
“Oh buddy, you’re in for it now!” Jack said. Feeling the magic surge through him, he began drawing a symbol in the air in front of him.

You can view Raziel's version and see the poll here

Zokusho: Terra Raiga Chapter 1

What's this? Two updates within one day? Within a few hours even? I know, I'm shocked too.

The main reason is that I was working on this when I posted the previous update. Plus I'm taking part in a fiction battle for the MLC, so I needed an example of the guy I've chosen in combat. He's not actually here, but he fights in a manner similar to the guys who are here.

Abywhoo, on with the story.



We begin our tale during the height of the Gnome’s power, seven years before the arrival of humans to the continent. Theodora is an apprentice mage of a mere 57 years. She has always studied diligently and aces all of her tests. She is dating a young mechanic and is looking forward to a long life of discovery and fulfilment. Not once did she ever think that she would be thrown into the midst of adventure, but such is the whimsical nature of Fate.
On the particular day in question, Theodora was heading home after an evening in the library. She was happily whistling the latest pop track by her favourite Gnome band, Mega-life. Her route home required several twists and turns through the back-tunnels of Dalenottin, her home city. Within one of these tunnels a pair of eyes was watching her. Her bright pink hair, made into pigtails, stood out easily in the low torchlight. The silent follower waited for her to pass before making its’ move. It leapt out silently and threw a small dagger with preternatural precision. The dagger stuck in Theodora’s long robe, pinning it to the ground and causing her to trip forward. Before she had even hit the ground the attacker had closed in and lunged with a right hook.
The fist bounced off of an invisible barrier, the sudden change of direction throwing the assailant off-balance. Theodora struck out with her foot and kicked her erstwhile attacker while he was down.
“OW! I give, I give. You got me.” The attacker yelped in a high-pitched voice.
“Hah, I thought you would’ve learned by now. Never try and catch a mage when her guard’s down.”
“You’re not a mage yet.”
“You’re no assassin either. And I will be a mage by this time next week,” Theodora reached down and picked up the young female Gnome lying before her.
“Do you really think you’ve studied enough? I mean, you’ve only put in seven hours today.”
“Oh har har, very witty, maybe you should’ve been a bard. Oh wait, that would’ve required an actual charisma score.”
“Look at me, I’m splitting my sides here.” Theodora’s younger sister proclaimed. Like Theodora she had pink hair and purple eyes, a combination commonly thought of as unattractive. Her hair was covered by a black hood and her eyes by night-vision goggles.
“So how did your day go? Did that guy make a move on you yet?” Theodora asked as she pulled the dagger from her robe and returned it.
“Feh, I wish! He was to busy drooling over Scarlet to even notice me.”
“Elementalists get all the cute guys.” Theodora said with a sly grin.
“I know! What’s she got that I haven’t?”
“Nice hair. Money. Looks. Brains. A large circle of friends. The ability to alter reality as we know it with a few words and gestures.”
“It was a rhetorical question.” The young assassin said in an icy voice.
“A great figure.”
“You can stop now.”
“A personality.”
“Anytime now.”
“A cheerleading outfit.”
“…..”
“Don’t worry Geri, you have plenty of good points yourself,” Theodora looked into Geri’s hopeful expression for an entire minute without saying anything, “Hey look, it’s Mardo!”
Theodora pointed behind her sister, who spun on her heel instantly at the sound of her beau’s name.
There was nobody there.
When she had turned back round, Theodora had already vanished around a corner.

Far away on the other side of the vast continent that dominated most of Terra Raiga, someone else was having a bad day. Indeed, it could be argued, with much supporting evidence, that his day was far worse.
His name was Irhi and he was the leader of a tribe of Goblinoids. His tribe wasn’t the largest, oldest or most successful in Goblinoid history, but it was still alive, which was enough of an achievement itself. Especially since his tribe was at that very moment fleeing an attack from some angry Bloodkind.
Irhi didn’t want his people to end up as either slaves or food for the Bloodkind, as was the traditional fate of any tribe attacked, but he really didn’t want to be either a slave or food himself. If he could get away then he would be happy. If any of his tribe managed to get away too, then that was just a bonus.
He crested the top of a hill and turned back to look over his remaining tribe. He almost fell to his knees in despair. There were only about twenty Goblinoids left alive, and he could see the Bloodkind at the bottom of the hill. They roared with glee as they cut down Goblinoid after Goblinoid. Hard to think that a mere six Bloodkind had dispatched over 300 Goblinoids by themselves, but they were almost invincible warriors. Irhi had originally ordered his Shamans and bow-armed warriors to fight, but most had chickened out. Those that had held their nerve found their attacks bouncing off the tough red skin of the Bloodkind. Three Shamans had gotten lucky and hit a Bloodkind in the shoulder at the same time, tearing the arm off completely. Unfortunately they never got a chance to fire any more shots as the Bloodkind had proceeded to rip one of the Shaman’s head off and use it to batter the other two to death.
That was when the rest of his soldiers had thrown down their weapons and ran.
Right now Irhi couldn’t think of anything but running. Just as he turned he slammed face-first into the chest of a stranger. Momentarily forgetting the threat behind him he gazed up into the face of the newcomer and was shocked to find that it was a Goblinoid. Well, it had the same skin tone as a Goblinoid, but it was easily twice the height and width. It looked down at Irhi, smiled and gently pushed him aside. It walked down the hill towards where the Bloodkind were catching the Goblinoids and stood stock still.
One of the Bloodkind noticed the newcomer and signalled the others. The one-armed Bloodkind was first to move, swinging his huge sword with a remarkable speed that no Goblinoid could have ever hoped to dodge. The newcomer caught it in one hand, then looked directly into his foe’s eyes and asked, in the Bloodkind’s own language, “Why do you fight?”
The Bloodkind didn’t waste any time answering and instead went for a head-butt. The newcomer dodged to the side and plunged his hand inside his foe’s wound. When he withdrew it he was clasping a bloodied spine. Throwing this away he let his defeated foe slump to the ground, stone dead, and turned to face the five remaining.
“Why do you fight?” He asked once again. Once again, his only response was violence. All five of the Bloodkind rushed him, their swords swinging and striking with perfect fluidity, their co-operation having been trained over the course of their entire lives, not one getting in the way of another. The newcomer dodged or deflected them all. The Bloodkind, for their part, didn’t falter for a second and kept pushing forwards.
One of the Bloodkind flanked the newcomer and attacked his blind spot. Somehow the newcomer knew this was coming and ducked underneath it, letting the attack strike another Bloodkind in the throat, breaking the skin and severing an artery. Blood sprayed all over the place, but the newcomer was already out of the way. He had leapt over the top of an opponent and landed behind him. With an unnatural speed the newcomer had spun the Bloodkind around on his feet and plunged two fingers into his eyeballs.
The Bloodkind screamed in pain and fell back, replaced instantly by two more. They kept up the attack, never faltering for even a moment, but the newcomer was too fast to hit. He spun, ducked and hopped around them, delivering small jabs to the front of their necks at every opportunity. All that achieved was a throbbing pain in his hand, so he abandoned this strategy for a more effective one. He plucked a short sword from the hand of a dead Goblinoid near him and stepped forwards.
He ducked and weaved between the swords of his three remaining foes and forced the short sword through the eye socket of the first Bloodkind he reached. The sword went in as far as it could before stopping when it came into contact with the inside of the skull. The newcomer withdrew the short sword and noted how the tip had been blunted by the impact.
He caught the sword of the next Bloodkind between his fingers and yanked, pulling the Bloodkind off-balance. He then jammed the short sword into an eye socket, killing him instantly.
The remaining Bloodkind looked around him to find all of his comrades were dead. Even the one who had been blinded had found itself set upon by angry Goblinoids who clawed at his wounds.
The newcomer once again spoke in the Bloodkind’s language, “Why do you fight?” he asked.
The Bloodkind snarled at him and replied, “Because that’s what we do.”
The newcomer tilted his head to the side as he pondered the answer. The Bloodkind saw his opportunity and charged, swinging his huge blade at head-height. The newcomer ducked effortlessly, only to find his neck impaled by the claw of his foe. A look of puzzlement crossed his face, then he slumped to the ground, dead.
The Bloodkind licked the fresh blood off of his hand and turned to face the remaining Goblinoids. What he saw shocked him more than anything else had in his life.
There, standing behind the Goblinoids, was a creature he had never seen before. What he saw reminded him of the Gnomish females, but this was much taller, although not as tall as he. She had hair of a shade of red he didn’t recognise and skin of purest white. She was naked, although neither the Bloodkind nor the Goblinoids found this anything to be excited over.
She looked over at the scene of carnage and made a tutting noise with her mouth.
“Only five? I expected more from that one. I’ll need more if I’m to have even the slightest chance of being ready in time.”
The Bloodkind smiled to himself. He didn’t recognise the language this strange creature spoke in, but he did recognise a rarity when he saw it. He would capture this new creature alive and present her as a gift for his Queen. For such a gift he was sure to gain favour, which would entitle him to go on greater hunts than mere Goblinoid raids.
He didn’t understand the next words she said, nor did he think much of the hand-gestures she made before her. When the remaining seven Goblinoids all grew and changed shape to match the opponent he had just gutted, he just smiled to himself. More to fight, he thought.
He changed his grip on his weapon, but didn’t get a chance to use it. Irhi had rushed forwards and stabbed the Bloodkind square in the eye. Irhi looked down at his new body, then at his tribe, then finally at the strange creature that had caused this. When he spoke it wasn’t in his own tongue, but in the language of the strange creature.
“Mistress?”
He was confused. Facts were in his mind were there one second and gone the next. His memories were draining from him even as he tried to recall them. By the time he got to saying his next sentence he had already lost his entire life, “Mistress, why do we fight?”
Irhi’s new mistress walked over to him and cupped a hand around his cheek, “Because I tell you to, that’s why.”
And then they vanished, leaving only bloodied corpses behind.

Zokusho: Terra Raiga

Here's some backstory I've been working on for Terra Raiga, a new story telling the ancient history of this world. It was going to be the opening to the story, but I found it difficult to segue into the story proper after explaining this, so it's going to be the Prologue-type bit. Of a sort, anyway.


Humans have not always been the dominant species on Terra Raiga. Indeed, it could be argued that they are still not dominant. For most of the history of Terra Raiga dominance has been split between four distinct species. The enigmatic Gnomes, the powerful Bloodkind, the resourceful Goblinoids and the secretive Nymphs.

First and foremost, the Gnomes were brilliant engineers and skilful mages. Possessed of a curiosity unlike any other species they thirsted for knowledge, pushing the very boundaries of science and magic, even finding ways to combine them in methods that would take other species millennia to even think of. They lived within mountains, safe from the much larger creatures that dwelled outside.

Second were the Bloodkind. Great strength flowed through their veins. They are the greatest of warrior races, every male being trained for the sole purpose of war. Their skin was a bright red and tougher than plate steel. When they were born they would be given a personal mask, which they would not remove until the day of their death. The markings upon the masks would become more complex over time, signifying their position within their tribe.

Thirdly were the Goblinoids. A small people, the Goblinoids were nomadic through necessity. If they stayed in one place too long, they would inevitably be found and attacked by the Bloodkind or something worse. Many Goblinoids lived their entire lives as slaves to the Bloodkind, but those who lived free were no better off. The life of a typical Goblinoid was short and full of strife, but those who were free were ferocious fighters, doing anything they could to extend their own lives.

Finally we come to the most secretive of them all. The Nymphs lived exclusively within the woodlands, never straying far from the boundaries of their home. Nymph society was female-dominated, due to the low birth rate of males, who often lived lives of luxury as a result. The female Nymphs hunted, foraged and fought for them.

All of these lived under the shadow of the dangerous Pygmen. A non-sentient humanoid species which reproduced rapidly and ate anything they came across, from the largest of creatures to the sturdiest oak, and everything in between. They lived within a deep valley among the mountains at the centre of the continent. Every so often their numbers would become too great and they would burst out of the mountains like a tidal wave of teeth and claws, devastating anything they came across until the wave eventually petered out.

Zokusho: Crystal Blade Chapter 4

This is why I should never try to gaurantee updates. I never actually manage to stick to them. I fully blame people who are not me. I am working on something, or, more precisely, several somethings, which don't exactly make things easy. For now, here's part four of Crystal Blade, in which a very fateful meeting occurs.


Jon and James left the junk shop via the rear exit. Jon had transferred all the important files from his computer to an emergency disaster recovery back-up facility, in other words a memory stick, and had gone to James’ apartment. It wasn’t very big, which is why they never held meetings there, but at the moment it seemed as if they had no choice. Jon showed his friend what he had found, which got James very excited. It was always easy to tell when James was excited, since he said man even more than usual.
“Man, this is it man! This is what it’s all about man! We are in man!”
“Whoa James. Calm down. We don’t know what we’re on to. This is Guild stuff; we could get ourselves iced over this kind of thing.”
“But man, this is big stuff man! We gotta do something about this man!”
“No, we have to wait until D gets here, then we can decide what to do.”
James had just opened his mouth to retaliate when his phone rang. He picked it up and answered in his usual manner “Huh?”
“It’s Lya; I have some work for you.”
“Nah, it’s not Lya. I’m James. You must have the wrong number.” James said and hung up. The phone rang again.
“Huh?”
“James, go to Lya’s place. Now!”
“Okay.” He hung up again and turned to Jon “Yo, Shiro man I gotta go. This girl wants me to go around her place for some reason. Wait for D to show up man. Oh, and don’t eat the blue cheese in the fridge.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m saving it for a special occasion. Oh, and I think it used to be yellow.” He said as he left. Jon looked around James’ small apartment a little, then decided he was hungry and proceeded to eat the blue cheese in the fridge. He then spent the rest of the day in the bathroom puking it back up.

Mike stared at his mystery opponent. After the first lunge, which he had parried almost effortlessly, they had begun to circle each other. The Samurai’s feet barely made a sound as he moved, which struck the Swordsmith as rather odd. The samurai took another lunge, which Mike once again parried. The Samurai spun around though, and swung at Mike’s head. Mike hopped back, whilst simultaneously parrying the blow. He had been taught when younger that the best way of avoiding an attack is to both dodge and parry at the same time, just in case. However, a samurai is hardly the same as the thugs he had just fought, and Mike found his opponent had expected the move and followed.
The Samurai opened up with a fast flurry of blows, all of which Mike managed to deflect, but only barely. And he was running out of space to dodge into. Mike concentrated all of his efforts on gaining the upper hand, but his opponent was too skilled, and he continued his offensive. Mike tried to step to the left for a surprise attack, but he slipped on the third thugs, ahem, parts, and landed heavily on the ground. He looked up to see the Samurai swinging his sword downwards for the final blow.

Rachel asked the new waitress for a fourth cup of coffee. She had been waiting for well over ten minutes now. She was watching people pass by on their ways to work. She liked to entertain herself when waiting by making up life stories for random people. For example, the man across the street wearing a sleek, pinstriped black suit and fedora (A type of hat, I’m not wholly sure on what it looks like myself) with a blue shirt and electric blue tie was probably a very boring man. She imagined him to have a desk job similar to Harvard, and was trying to appear more exciting than he actually was. When she noticed that he was dragging what looked like a dog-sized demon behind him however, she abandoned this particular hobby.
A shame really, because she missed the rare treat of seeing three men, bleeding profusely from where limbs should have been, run past. Rachel was checking her watch instead.
“One coffee, with extra milk and four sugars.” Sheridan said as she placed the mentioned beverage in front of Rachel. She hung around a little bit longer than a waitress normally does, and Rachel became slightly unnerved.
“Is there a problem?”
“Oh, no! It’s just, well. I’ve never seen anybody with ears like yours before.”
“What? Really? You can’t have lived in Interplanes very long then. They’re rather common.” Rachel’s green eyes blinked in the comedy way that anime characters eyes do when surprised.
“If you don’t mind my asking, how did you get them?” Sheridan held her tray to her chest tightly; worried that she would upset her customer.
Before Rachel could reply though, Simon’s booming voice called out “Table four ready!” Sheridan excused herself and scurried away. Rachel decided it was time for her second favourite hobby. She leaned in close over her coffee, and twitched her ears until she could clearly hear what the couple at the next table were saying.
“I’m telling you honey, I don’t find her attractive!” the man said. Rachel sighed deeply and cursed Mike for being late. If her only subject was that bad at lying, then she’d have nothing to entertain herself.

Mike opened his eyes when the final blow he was expecting seemed a little late. To his astonishment, the Old Man had intercepted the blow with his walking stick, and was currently engaged in head butting the mysterious samurai. It may not be apparent, but a samurai (particularly ones from Terra Raiga) are trained in sword-fighting, and so are unaccustomed to being head butted in the nose. He staggered back, clutching his broken sniffer.
“You should not have involved yourself Old One.” The Samurai said. He probably meant for this to be intimidating, but since he had to stop halfway and spit blood out of his mouth, the effect seemed somewhat spoiled.
“I will not stand idly by while you kill the boy I helped raise. Either fight me to get to him, or leave with your dignity. I leave the choice to you.” He had shifted his grip on his stick, holding it almost as if it were a sword he was about to unsheathe. The Samurai also shifted his grip on his sword.
“As if I would ever cower before a blind man!” He yelled and subsequently charged. The Swordsmith gripped the handle of his stick, and unsheathed the Crystal Blade. Mike caught the scabbard when the Old Man let go of it, and he noted the strange rune near the hilt. It was unlike anything he had ever seen, but it paled in comparison to what was going on before him.
The Samurai had lunged at the Old Man, flying through the air. He thrust with his sword, being careful to make as little noise as humanly possible. It didn’t help. The Swordsmith parried the thrust with ease, and sliced a deep cut along the Samurai’s shirt. The Samurai twisted around in the air, at one point he was upside-down directly over the Swordsmith, and he swung his sword towards him. Mike watched in astonishment as the sword hit what looked like empty space, but sparks flew as it scratched along the Crystal Blade. Mike’s eyes were as wide as they could go, but they found somewhere when the Samurai’s sword snapped in two. The Samurai also seemed shocked at this, but he didn’t let it distract him. He effortlessly rebounded off of the wall and landed some way away.
“What kind of a sword is that?” He asked.
“One you will never see again.” The Swordsmith snatched the scabbard away from Mike and dramatically sheathed the Crystal Blade. The rune on the scabbard glowed white for a second, and then they were gone. The Samurai looked around the empty alleyway, utterly bemused as to what had happened. He couldn’t remember anything past charging the blind man. He went to sheathe his sword, only to find it had been shattered. So, it was like that was it? He turned smartly on his heel and left the alleyway.
Mike watched the Samurai leave. He too had lost all memory of the battle past the point the Swordsmith had saved him, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain. The Old Man turned round and stared at where he assumed Mike was lying.
“Well, are you going to lie there all day, or are we going to get moving?” He said, whacking Mike with his ‘walking stick’. “I told you not to take a shortcut through an alleyway. But would you listen? Oh no! You thought you could take anybody. Bloody youngsters.”
Mike stood up, shook his head to try and get rid of the fuzziness inside it, then followed his old master out of the alley.

Gethin was frantic with worry. He had answered a routine dispatch for a stabbing victim in one of the less-reputable areas of Interplanes, but had found his older brother lying in a pool of blood. The officer had done a good job bandaging the wounds, and they had gotten Harvard to hospital in record time, but he was still worried. As he sat outside the hospital, he pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket and phoned one of his younger brothers. It rang for a while, until it was answered.
“Yello?”
“Aster, tell mum we’ve got a problem. Something’s happened.”
“What? What’s happened?”
“It’s Harvard, he’s hurt. Just come to the hospital and I’ll explain.” Gethin hung up. He didn’t feel like explaining anything over the phone, especially not to Aster. Gethin hung his head in his hands. He looked up again when he heard someone collapse nearby. As he did, he saw three men staggering up the steps to the hospital. They had lost various body parts and were bleeding heavily. The one who had collapsed was missing his entire arm.
Gethin conjured up some bandages and rushed straight back to work.

Detective Red waited on top of the police station. It was an unlikely place to wait for a wanted criminal, but that’s why it was so great. Carr was getting an earful from the police chief about reaching a dead-end with the Nebull case, but the chief just liked shouting, so it wasn’t anything serious. Red turned when he heard footsteps behind him, and was unsurprised to see empty space.
“You’re behind me, aren’t you?”
“I’m always behind you Detective.”
“How did the mission go?”
“Badly. Look at this.” A sword clanked onto the roof at his feet. It had been cut clean in two.
“I thought I was hiring the best.”
“You did, there were just some, complications. I underestimated the boy.” The samurai stepped out from behind the shadow. He was a good 6 foot 6 inches tall, with blond hair tied into a ponytail. His samurai robes were jet black, but he wore a white undershirt which was clearly visible at the collar and cuffs. Despite his height, Detective Red was still slightly taller, with long unkempt red hair framing his rock-like features.
“You didn’t think the Dragon Cult would hire an amateur did you? Long have they been a thorn in my side. It’s about time we crushed those old fools.”
“You can rant all you want later, just pay me what you owe.”
“Owe? I owe you? You didn’t kill the boy. I owe you nothing!” At this, the Samurai took offence. He withdrew a wakizashi and charged at his employer. Red, however, was too quick for him. The Samurai stared down the barrel of Red’s pistol. Silently, he sheathed his blade.
“I have another job for you.” Red said, holstering his gun.
“What kind of job? It’s not like I have a sword anymore.”
“A simple arson gig. A friend of mine has some secrets he doesn’t want anyone else to know, but someone does. The Shiro junk shop, tonight at midnight. I’ll be accompanying you. Maybe you’ll even be able to get yourself a new sword while you’re at it.” Red smiled a wry smile as he turned away from his employee. By the time Red had even reached the door to the stairwell, the Samurai had gone.

Rachel was messing about with the games on her phone. She was bored. As you may have noticed, Rachel didn’t take boredom well. Her mood was not improved when the battery died. Luckily she looked up out of the window and saw Mike running towards the café. She hastily paid the bill for six coffees and ran outside to meet him.
“Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for over an hour.”
“Sorry, but someone got us lost.” Mike said, panting heavily. The Old Man whacked him around the head with his walking stick.
“Don’t talk bad about your elders.” He harrumphed “So who are you?”
“Rachel Dent, Private eye.” She thrust her hand out for him to shake, but he ignored it.
“Whatever.” He harrumphed “We need you to do something for us.”
“Do you know of any places that sell dispelling weapons?” Mike cut in.
“Why would you want a dispelling weapon? Interplanes isn’t exactly crawling with fiends you know.”
“Madame Nebull was a fiend.” Mike pointed out.
“She’s the exception. And from what you’ve said, she must’ve been a pretty high-level fiend to have been able to hide here. You won’t be needing a dispelling weapon. Trust me.” She thumped her fist against her chest.
“But what if we ever have to leave Interplanes?”
“Good point. I know this little shop just around the corner, they sell just about everything. Follow me.” Rachel started off across the road once more. Mike followed, being careful to guide the Swordsmith in the right direction. Rachel stopped next to a battered-looking Mitsubishi Warrior in chrome black. She reached into her pocket, causing her shirt to crumple in ways Mike found annoyingly pleasing, and pulled out a pair of black sunglasses. They didn’t look like normal sunglasses though. Due to her fox ears, she had had to have them specially made to fit. She pushed it through her short orange hair and struck a pose.
“Well, this is my little mover. What do you think?”
“Who cares? Let’s just get moving!” The Old Man harrumphed again as he whacked Rachel with his stick. They bundled into the vehicle and drove off; leaving some very confused onlookers behind.

Lya Lorne waited in her apartment. She had phoned in sick. There was no hope in making it to work on time anyway, and she had to speak to James too. This was her chance. If James could get evidence that Miah Faradays was having an affair, she would make the front page. Bolstered by this feeling of optimism, she paced around her living room. When the doorbell rang, she practically fell over herself in her rush to answer it. James wandered in, the usual blank look plastered over his face.
“Hey man, what’s up?”
“I have something great for us tonight!” Lya nearly screamed at him. When a giant grin spread across his face, she instantly corrected his assumption. “And by that I mean my career. I have something great for my career that you can do.”
“Ah man! Just when I think I’m gonna get some. What do you want me to do then man?”
“I need you to take some photos with me tonight.” The grin returned, so Lya had to correct his assumption once more “I have a lead on a story, but I need you to take some photos and get the evidence. Meet me at this address at midnight tonight.” She handed him a piece of paper and practically shoved him back out the door. After a deep sigh of relief, she started writing her article on her computer.

Rachel found a parking spot in record time, mostly by shouting. Mike hopped out of the car, and gazed around in a state of awe and wonderment. The street was positively lined with shops selling magical wares. He recognised the sign at the end of the street which said ‘Surly Dragon’ in big and imposing letters. The shops also had imposing signs, proudly proclaiming ‘Finest Magic Items’ or ‘Fillian’s Magicks’ or even ‘Jerry’s Hand-Crafted Magical Antiquities’.
While he was staring, Rachel prodded him in the ribs “Leave your coat and hat in the car, these guys don’t co-operate well with detectives.”
“But didn’t you used to be a cop?”
“They don’t need to know that.” She said, swiping for his hat.
“The hat stays on.”
“What’s the matter? Embarrassed about your hair?” She playfully took another swipe, but Mike slapped her hand away.
“No, it’s not that. It’s just that I, uh, have an embarrassing scar.” Rachel narrowed her eyes, but her Empathic abilities told her he was telling the truth. She decided not to press the issue.
“What are you young’uns yammering about? We don’t have all day you know.” The Old man whacked them both with his walking stick. Mike dumped his coat in the car and they entered the shop with the ‘Fillian’s Magicks’ sign. Rachel glanced in the window before they entered.
“Uhhh, they sold the deep pockets coat. I wanted to buy that.”
As they entered, a bell above the door made a pleasant tinkling sound. The effeminate looking shopkeeper looked up from his book, and spread his arms nearly as wide as his smile.
“Rachel my dear! You never visit. And who is this lovely young man?” Fillian glided past Rachel to take Mike’s arm. Fillian looked Mike up and down, and then started measuring him. “Oooh, you have a lovely figure young man. I’m sure I have just the thing for you. A strong build like this just screams leather to me. Oh, I’d love to put some leather on you.”
“We’re not here to buy clothes.” The Old Man harrumphed his loudest harrumph yet. Fillian looked at him with obvious distaste.
“Oh, I don’t like you. I don’t like you at all.”
“Good. I don’t like you either. We’re here to buy a dispelling weapon.”
“Oh Rachel, the old prune reminds me. I got in a box of dispelling bullets which would fit that pistol of yours perfectly!” Fillian glided back behind his counter and placed a box on top of it. He opened it slowly, as if to increase suspense. Inside it were twenty finely-crafted bullets. They were pure white, with a small band of what looked like scribbles around the tip, but on closer inspection appeared to be tiny runes.
“Normally an entire box of twenty would be over a thousand credits, but since it’s you I’ll round them down.” Rachel’s eyes had focused on the bullets; so much so that she didn’t notice her sunglasses slip off her nose.
“They’re beautiful! I’ll take them!” She handed Fillian a wad of cash and clamped her hands around the box. Once Fillian had finished counting, he turned back to Mike.
“So, what kind of dispelling weapon are you after? I have knives, swords, axes, hammers, halberds, bullets or arrows! You name it, I’ve got it.”
“Just a dagger will do fine.” Mike was feeling strangely uncomfortable around this man, but he had no idea why. He would later describe it as a strange but familiar tingling sensation in his ears. Even later he would realise why the sensation was so familiar, but now’s not the time for that.
“A dagger.” Fillian rolled his eyes “Everybody just wants a dagger. Nobody ever wants any big dispelling weapons, just the small ones. When you’re fighting for your life surrounded by hundreds of fiends, then you’ll wish you had a bigger weapon! But if the customer wants a dagger, then the customer wants a dagger.” Fillian ducked under his counter again, and when he came back up he had several small blades in his arms. He placed them on the counter, each with the point facing Mike.
“I’ll inspect them!” The Swordsmith said. He lightly tapped each of the blades once with his finger. After doing so, he picked up the one at the far right. Unsheathing it, he listened intently to the shing as the wakizashi met with the air. He ran his fingers along the edge and then spun it round once or twice. Fillian scratched his pointed ear with impatience.
“Are you going to choose or practice?”
“I’ve chosen. We’ll take this one.” The Swordsmith sheathed the wakizashi again. “What’s it called?”
“It’s a dagger, it doesn’t have a name.”
“All swords should have names. It’s only respectful.”
“Fine, name it what you will! But that’ll be 2000 credits named or not.”
“Rachel? Is that a good price?” The Swordsmith turned to look at the girl, but she wasn’t listening. She was busy placing some of her new bullets into a gun clip. She stopped when she was whacked with the walking stick. “I asked if 2000 credits was a good price.”
“What? Oh, yeah. 2000 sounds about right.” She hastily got back to her task. Mike handed Fillian the money, and they left without further comment. As they did, Fillian turned back to his reading, muttering something about how Elves shouldn’t have to put up with prunes like that.

Officers Blake and Buddy returned to the station in order to write their reports. Blake was not looking forward to how much paperwork he had before him. First were the standard papers for requesting medical assistance. He also had to write a statement about what had happened and his role in it. Then there was the form covering why he saw fit to leave his police vehicle unattended, then the form for removing his police badge and showing it to someone, then came the declaration to follow up on the progress of the victim, which was standard in all mugging cases. Once he had finished that, he had to do most of it all over again in order to request a new uniform since his old one had been damaged. And after he had finished that, he had the paperwork for the witness interrogation to look forward to.
And once he had finished he had to help Buddy wade through all of his.
By the time Blake had a chance to get out, it had already turned dark. Therefore he and Buddy played no further part in the events that happened that day, but it’s nice to know what kept them busy.