New Year New Chapter Contest

Arcus · Dec 1, 2023

Some of you may recall the First Chapter Contest we ran back in August. Well, it's back! For anyone who has no idea what that is, back during Summerfest we ran a contest challenging users to write the opening chapter to a longer work of fiction or a quest, with the goal of creating the most engaging and gripping entry. If you have regrets about not participating back then, don't worry, because the New Year New Chapter Contest is here.

Have an idea that you think could be the next UCA winner? Or maybe were just looking for an excuse to write out that quest idea you've had for the last several years? The basic concept is the same as last time; write out the most engaging opening chapter you can, for a work that you would post to either Quests or User Fiction.

This time, though, there are few rule tweaks. The most important one is that in order to be eligible for any prizes, your entry must be crossposted to the relevant subforum, and you must include a link to the thread in question. Also, we've got a new grand prize for the winner. Specifically, the winner will receive a piece of commissioned artwork for their quest or story, paid for by the site, along with a promotional banner which will run from January 1st, to help kickstart their thrread for the new year!

Rules

Submissions
Submissions can be in the style of a work that would be posted to either the User Fiction or Quests subforum. Participants are allowed a maximum of one submission each. They can freely edit their submission as many times as they want up until the submission date.

To enter the contest, all you have to do is post your entry in this thread and our staff will helpfully threadmark the entry for you. You must also post your entry to its own thread on SV, and include a link to said thread, in order to qualify for any prizes.

Wordcount
Submissions must be at least 500 words, and no more than 4000 words.

Prizes
In order to be eligible for prizes, submissions should be crossposted to their own thread elsewhere on the forum, and a link should be included at the top of your entry.

All eligible participants will receive a participation award of one month's silver subscription. The runner-up entries will receive two months' worth of gold subscription, and winner will receive three months of gold subscription, as well as the right to commission a piece of artwork from one of SV's resident artists at the site's expense.

Judging
Entries will be assessed by @Arcus, @EarthScorpion, @Leyleyfication and @Magery.

Contest Duration
The contest will be open for submissions from Dec 1, 2023 at 5:00 PM until Dec 30, 2023 at 7:00 PM . This is also the deadline for posting your entry to the wider forum.

FAQ

What are the judges looking out for?: The most important thing is whether you can hook the readers in as strongly as possible! Sell us on your initial premise, make us fall in love with your characters and get invested in their goals, get us interested in seeing more of your setting! Of course, we'll also be judging on general writing quality, which means things like quality of prose and dialogue, technical writing quality (grammar and spelling), pacing, and whatnot.

In general, a good entry should aim for leaving their readers feeling like they have to keep turning the page. If you've ever watched the first episode of a TV show or read the first chapter of a book, and been left with the sensation that you desperately need to know what's going to happen next, that's the kind of feeling you should be aiming to capture.

We've also run a previous iteration of this contest before, so you can always look at the feedback in the previous thread to see what worked and what didn't work so well.
Does my entry have to be a new work specifically created for the contest?: Generally, we would like to see new works! Of course, it can be an idea you might have been working on for a while and just never got around to posting (we can't tell anyway), but your entry should be something that can work as a standalone piece. That said, if you want to reuse or modify elements from things you've written before, we won't stop you.
Can I post something I've written for the contest elsewhere on the forum while the contest is still running?: Not only is it allowed, it's even encouraged! You're free to go ahead and cross-post something you wrote for the contest.
Can I submit an NSFW entry for the contest?: Yes, but your entry must be clearly labelled, spoilered and follow the Site Rules.
Wait, what's this new requirement about posting the entry to a thread?: We're making it explicit this time, the point is to get people's stories out there on the forum. Of course, you might want to polish up and revise your entry first, which is why we're not requiring you do it immediately, but you'll have to do it before we hand out the prizes if you want to get your participation (or better) rewards.

If you have any other questions not covered in the FAQ, you can ask them in this thread.

PetroleumMedium! · Dec 1, 2023

If this question is not allowed to be answered due to Privacy, then that's perfectly okay!

My question is who are the judges for this competition?

Xanah · Dec 2, 2023

bit confused here; you talk about wanting User Fiction or Quest OPs in the pitch, but in the actual rules, you want User Fiction or Alternate History OPs.

As this affects what I write, I'm a bit stuck.

Arcus · Dec 2, 2023

Xalgeon said:
bit confused here; you talk about wanting User Fiction or Quest OPs in the pitch, but in the actual rules, you want User Fiction or Alternate History OPs.

As this affects what I write, I'm a bit stuck.

oh snap, that's from an earlier draft and I didn't edit it out, I'll fix it.

To clarify, we're operating under the same rules as last time, so User Fiction or Quest OPs.

Solarstream · Dec 2, 2023

Arcus said:
Wordcount
Submissions must be at least 500 words, and no more than 4000 words.

Question specifically related to quests - is this just the opening post, or would it also include things like a separate Mechanics post if one was deemed necessary by the QM?

Arcus · Dec 2, 2023

Solarstream said:
Question specifically related to quests - is this just the opening post, or would it also include things like a separate Mechanics post if one was deemed necessary by the QM?

If you want to frontload a bit of the mechanics because you think it'll get more people onboard with your concept you can, but this will count towards the word limit. Remember the core idea here is that you want to grab the reader's attention before they don't get bored and wander off to read something else.

Skippy · Dec 2, 2023

PetroleumMedium! said:
If this question is not allowed to be answered due to Privacy, then that's perfectly okay!

My question is who are the judges for this competition?

As soon as we are done finalising the judging panel, that will be no problem at all. 😅

Solarstream said:
Question specifically related to quests - is this just the opening post, or would it also include things like a separate Mechanics post if one was deemed necessary by the QM?

Arcus said:
If you want to frontload a bit of the mechanics because you think it'll get more people onboard with your concept you can, but this will count towards the word limit. Remember the core idea here is that you want to grab the reader's attention before they don't get bored and wander off to read something else.

What I will add is that if you were a QM who wanted to do what many QMs do and have a short OP with mostly intro and mechanics stuff, and then have your second update be the first real "story" update... you entry could be that second update of the thread. We're not reading more than the word count or multiple post, but we're happy to be reasonable. The key after all is writing something great which grabs the reader's attention.

This isn't disallowed in the rules as it stands (unless it is and I've forgotten), but we may tweak them to make it a bit clearer.

Arcus · Dec 3, 2023

Skippy said:
What I will add is that if you were a QM who wanted to do what many QMs do and have a short OP with mostly intro and mechanics stuff, and then have your second update be the first real "story" update... you entry could be that second update of the thread. We're not reading more than the word count or multiple post, but we're happy to be reasonable. The key after all is writing something great which grabs the reader's attention.

This isn't disallowed in the rules as it stands (unless it is and I've forgotten), but we may tweak them to make it a bit clearer.

Clarification on this, if you want to have a ten thousand word long explanation of mechanics in the second post of your thread and not post that to here, more power to you.

You should, however, make sure all important context and information is in the entry you actually submit. If there's critical information hidden away in a second post (or a hyperlink to an external google doc or whatever), quite bluntly we won't be reading it. If it's that vital to understanding your story consider integrating it into your submission!

For everyone else, note that you can still check out the previous iteration of this contest if you want some pointers, the archive should be public.

Obscura · Dec 3, 2023

Is it alright to post one's entry elsewhere in the forum and then copy it over here, or do entrants need to post here, then post in User Fiction/Quests, then come back and edit in the link?

Skippy · Dec 3, 2023

Obscura said:
Is it alright to post one's entry elsewhere in the forum and then copy it over here, or do entrants need to post here, then post in User Fiction/Quests, then come back and edit in the link?

Either way is absolutely fine. The whole object is to spur more new quests and stories on SV, so we'd be thrilled if you wanted to post it on the forum first.

Obscura · Dec 3, 2023

Cauldron Cooking and Pizza.

Chapter 1: Deliverance

It would not be inaccurate to say that Coil was, in a general sense, mostly unafraid of other capes. Oh, he acknowledged that there were few of them he could take in a straight-up physical confrontation, but by and large he was convinced he was smart enough to avoid a straight up physical confrontation, or at worst have it happen only in a single timeline while he got away in a safe one.

Timeline-splitting was handy like that. Most problems could be solved pretty easily that way, when one got right down to it, including other capes.

There was, however, one cape above all others that he truly, deeply feared. There were some that he would concede were (almost) in his league in terms of plotting and intellect, and a few who weren't who he nonetheless had to be very careful with. But there was only one who was absolutely, unquestionably better than him.

And she was in his base, going through his hired guns like a hot knife through butter. His men were trained special forces, outfitted with the very best of military technology and more Tinkertech than one could shake a stick at. They were vicious, resilient, and creative. They had thrown every countermeasure imaginable at the suited woman, and hadn't so much as mussed up her hair.

The woman, along with her suit, her fedora, and the brightly coloured insulated bag she carried didn't have so much as a single speck of powder or drop of blood touch them as she casually incapacitated an entire company's worth of some the finest, and most expensive, non-powered mercenaries in North America.

That they were actually managing to slow her down was honestly far more than he'd expected when he realised just who was assaulting his base. It seemed she wanted to make a show of things.

Escape was in all likelihood impossible, but in case it wasn't he split the timeline. One of him made for one of his secret escape tunnels, the other for his greatest asset.

The first died in a hail of automatic weapon fire within seconds. From what the other him saw, the woman had seized Brown's arm and redirected an entire clip meant for her into the wall the first him had been passing.

That the holes left afterwards formed a perfect inverted Omega told him he was meant to notice what she'd done.

Another twenty-seven timelines ended painfully as the surviving iteration made his way to the Alcott girl's cell. He felt the time she'd kicked a flashbang into a rip in his suit less than three inches long was particularly mean-spirited. Clearly, she was deliberately sending a message.

Coil just hoped he'd survive the experience. He didn't even know what he'd done. He had kept to the terms of his agreement with Cauldron, in letter and spirit, with the most fastidious of attention. He had not, as far as he knew, interfered with any of their operations. He would have granted any favor they asked for, but they hadn't asked for anything. The woman had just shown up in his base out of the blue and taken down the first man who tried to stop her progress with a ballpoint pen.

And she was heading for the Alcott cell. That much was clear now.

He supposed it made a sort of sense. The girl was undeniably valuable, and perhaps to the minds behind the suited woman she was more so than himself. But why didn't they just call in one of the favors he owed them?

He would have resented it, would have tried to wriggle his way out, but they could have forced the issue without issue, at least for them.

Actually, now that he thought about it, why hadn't they simply grabbed her before he did? It wasn't like it would have been difficult, not compared to this. Not for them.

Not for the woman in the suit.

Although, in all honesty, he had to wonder if anything could truly be considered "difficult" for her.

He barely even noticed as he relocked the cell door behind him. It wasn't like it would stop her.

He drew his pistol as he turned to ask the Alcott girl a question. He didn't know what he was going to ask, he didn't know what he could ask that could actually help him, but it didn't matter.

He never got the chance. The second his lips split, the woman had a finger over them. A part of Coil, a very small and insignificant part, resented being shushed like a child.

The rest of him was too terrified to disobey.

It felt like an eternity before the woman spoke, but in all likelihood it was at most a second.

"Small Meatlovers with Extra Cheese for Dinah Alcott?"

Wait, what?

"That's me."

"That'll be 15.97$"

Thomas Calvert still hadn't processed that first statement, and so was in no way ready to resist when Dinah Alcott walked up to him, unzipped his costume, and stole his wallet.

He had just started reeling from the audacity of that when the child pulled out a hundred dollar bill, his hundred dollar bill, handed it to the woman, and said "keep the change".

By the time the woman opened up her insulated bag, removed a slightly steaming flat white cardboard box, and put it on the bed, he was just starting to recover. Slightly.

Only for the youngest precognitive in the room to open the box, pull out a slice of admittedly excellent-looking pizza, and bite down.

"... Phank yu, ish delishouss."

And the women, the terrifying woman, the woman who had just singlehandedly stormed his base without so much as her getting her suit dirty, patted Dinah on the head and walked out of the room.

Thomas Calvert quite literally collapsed in sheer relief. He was going to live. He had no idea what just happened, and he suspected he never would, but he was going to live.

A few feet away, a cute little extremely powerful Thinker swallowed her food, reluctantly put off taking another bite, and looked at the pistol she had in her other hand. She was really glad the nice lady hadn't made a fuss about her taking it, she wasn't supposed to touch guns outside a firing range until she was sixteen, let alone steal them from distracted adults. But she felt the circumstances warranted it.

"Odds that I can shoot this meanie in the head a bunch of times and not get in trouble for it?" she asked herself.

She smiled as she said "98.724%"

At the time, neither of the remaining Thinkers in the room noticed the business card taped to the side of the box. It was a very nice business card, clearly professionally done and printed with extremely fancy ink on extremely fancy paper. It was even laminated, and very nicely laminated at that. It was, in short, just about the best quality business card imaginable.

Cauldron Cooking & Pizza: The Best of Foodstuffs at the Most Reasonable of Prices

We Deliver Anywhere, in Thirty Minutes or Less, Guaranteed

Ask About our 5% Discount for Case 53s

Order now at 555-228-5376, Or Check out Our Website Today!

Sadly, the effort that went into the card was to be for naught. Unfortunately for him, Coil wouldn't be in any position to check it out any time soon, and Dinah Alcott was already determined: she was totally gonna be a repeat customer.

prometheus110 · Dec 4, 2023

Tales of Two Travelers (Faerûn/D&D Isekai)
Chapter One

"After my altogether awful arrival into what I soon learned was called the Misty Forest and the substantially worse experiences that occurred between my first stumbling steps out into the world and my fateful encounter with Leandro Acre of Athkatla, one would hope that the gods of this strange land would prove merciful, showering the pair of us with shelter and succour alike in exchange for our undying gratitude. Alas, this hope proved a fickle flame quickly snuffed by the reality of our situation, those wonderfully warm and inviting inns about which most tales speak open only to those who had coin to spend —something Leandro and myself were severely lacking in, myself because of my unexpected arrival to this plane and Leandro for his own reasons. Turned away from all the pleasant and reputable inns along the Trade Way —and quite a number of the shabby and disreputable ones, to boot— Leandro and I found ourselves spending the nights camped out beside the road, my Athkatlan compatriot handling the dewy cold with rather more aplomb than myself.

To those familiar with the life of a wandering adventurer, my description of our situation would no doubt seem a trifle overdramatic, there being worse things on the Sword Coast than some few nights spent huddling under purloined sheets as Leandro practised his flourishes and thrusts. However, one must remember that not three tendays prior, I had been safe at home before suddenly and inexplicably finding myself on another plane of existence, the familiar comforts of life torn from my grasp and my understanding of the world turned on its head. At every turning, or so it seemed, we stood in imminent danger, fiends and monsters lurking behind every bush and boulder, and with only Leandro's rapier to protect us, I held little hope as to our continued survival.

Naturally, my relief could not be overstated when, after one particularly dreary day spent trudging along the Trade Way towards Waterdeep, we chanced upon an inn whose standard of clientele was low and whose proprietor proved willing to compensate us with beds for the night in exchange for a few hours labour. That said, if I'd known then what trouble Leandro would get us involved in by the time I awoke the next morning, I would have cheerily bypassed the inn and continued on my way north..."

— From The Tales of Two Travelers, Vol. I,
by Khaza Neumann (Waterdeep Press, 1500)

"I'm sorry," I said, my tone peevish, as Leandro Acre of Athkatla wiped the last pastry crumbs from his scarlet gambeson, his hip pouches jingling with every motion. "You asked the adventurers what?"

Pausing his fruitless endeavour, the lithe man looked up at me from across the inn's well-aged table and smiled innocently, brilliant white teeth shining against his dark skin.

"If we could accompany them in their most worthwhile endeavour, compañero," he replied, my worst fears realised as I caught the familiar look in his hazel eyes.

It'd been about four weeks since I'd awoken in the middle of a spooky fucking forest with no hint of a reason why and no understanding of how, and already I could tell when Leandro had set his mind on something. In just three weeks, his lust for heroics had gotten us into more trouble than I'd experienced in the twenty-plus years I'd lived on Earth. The man's irrepressible urge to help every hapless farmer and stuck cat delayed us to no end on our northward journey, and his inability to let a perceived insult lie saw us thrown out of more than a few inns minus what few coins we'd managed to acquire.

"You really should pay more attention, my friend. I told you this already."

He laughed. "A horde of goblins could have attacked the inn, and you would have never noticed!"

Successfully swallowing my urge to sigh, I glanced around the sunlit interior of The Priest's Mug to see if anyone had overheard my travelling companion's response.

Somewhat shabbier than most of the inns lining the Trade Way, every inch of its decor well-worn and aged rather than charmingly antique, The Priest's Mug was the most comfortable place we'd stayed in over a fortnight, and its stolidly built clientele wealthy enough to afford well-made, albeit plain, clothes. Seated at the rear of the inn's dining area, I was perfectly positioned to watch as a handful of the inn's dozen or so patrons shuffled inside for breakfast, the early morning quiet fading away as they arrived.

Turning back to Leandro, I gave him a nonplussed look and archly asked, "And why'd you do that?"

At that, Leandro's smile widened, and with a twist of his hand that I couldn't quite follow, a small leather purse struck the table, the familiar jingle of coins filling the air. Restraining myself from lunging for the purse, I instead turned my gaze on the increasingly packed dining room and let my eyes wander over a litany of people busy picking away at their meals.

They won't care for a handful of coins, I thought, not quite sure that I believed it. We couldn't be the only desperate people wandering the Sword Coast, after all, and it's not like law enforcement would be quick to arrive on the scene this far out in the boonies.

Not for the first time, I wished I could go back in time and read up on Faerun's history or develop a sudden and inexplicable encyclopaedic knowledge of literally any technology more advanced than the plough. As it was, I had the barest understanding of the former and little to none of the latter, and neither could put food on our plates.

"Alright," I said, raising my hands above the table in defeat and fighting the urge to grimace as I realised they were still stained with dirt.

Seeing this, Leandro shrugged and wiped his own —obnoxiously clean— hands on his jacket. "Tymora smiled upon us once more, compañero. If it was not for our fortuitous timing, we would have been sleeping with the horses."

Again, I noted bitterly. Four-legged farting bastards.

Shabby the inn might be by the usual standards of the Trade Way, but the place was still far outside our budget of two twigs and some dirt. That we had even been allowed to spend the night inside and sleep on actual beds was entirely down to the proprietor's good nature, not to mention our arrival just after a bulk delivery of potatoes.

Absently rubbing my hands on my clothes, peasants-wear stolen to replace the now long discarded clothes I'd been wearing when I'd first arrived on the plane, I turned my attention back to my sword-wielding companion.

"So, we've established the what and the why, but now I need to know who these adventurers are. I don't remember seeing any."

Without warning, a loud thud rang out, and the babble of the room died away. My interest piqued, I turned in time to see the door to the dining room bounce away from the inn's wall, the hallway beyond framing the figure of a black-haired man. Powerfully built and a little under six feet tall, the man filled the doorway as he scanned the room, his gaze lingering on Leandro and me for a moment before settling on one of the few empty tables left.

"Ah," I said as the man made his way to his seat, the hubbub of the crowd rising once more.

Even I could see that the man was no travelling farmer or free trader hoping to get in a quick meal before setting off.

For one thing, while his clothes were well-made and seemed comfortable, they couldn't disguise the tell-tale jingle of the chainmail worn beneath, each booted footstep sending another sonic assault into the air. For another thing, and rather more telling, he had a bloody great sword strapped to his back.

"There are more," Leandro added, sotto voce.

Before I could ask what he meant, another figure suddenly appeared in the doorway. Tall and reedy with green skin, pointed ears, thin features, and fragile spectacles perched perilously far down his nose, the half-orc paused awkwardly before spotting the first arrival. Despite myself, I could only watch as a jagged smile broke out across the half-orc's face, the man not so much walking over to his friend as jittering in stops and starts, apologies flowing as he attempted to thread a path between tables without catching the hem of his cerulean robes on anything.

Before the scholarly-looking half-orc even neared the table, two women appeared behind him, the first short and of clearly elven heritage judging by her slender figure, delicate features, and tapered ears, and the other a powerfully built blonde woman clad in furs. As with the first, both women carried weapons on their persons, the half-elven woman boasting a dagger thrust into a sheath on her hip and her taller friend an axe large enough to fell a tree in a single chop.

Not for the first time since I'd met Leandro, I had the inescapable feeling that I had a great deal in common with a fish caught on the hook of a particularly inattentive fisher.

"Well?" The Athkatlan asked brightly, his curly brown hair bobbing as he glanced between our parties.

This time, I did sigh.

"We've already taken their money, so I suppose we should at least find out what they're hiring us for."

Chuckling, Leandro slapped my shoulder and leapt to his feet with an energy that seemed to spring from nowhere. Raising a hand in salute to the adventurers, the animated swordsman immediately made to join them. Midway to standing, I paused as my stomach rumbled at the sudden smell of food; a quick look around revealed plates piled high with rashers of bacon, fried eggs, and toasted bread on every table but our own.

"Hey," I drawled as my travelling companion waited for me to follow, bitter suspicion already welling up in my rumbling stomach. "How exactly could you afford that pie?"

To his credit, the rakish swordsman had the good sense not to stare at the coin purse sitting between us, another sigh escaping me as I spotted the price board hanging behind his head.

He could have shared, I groused, half-heartedly, as I snatched up the coin purse and made to follow.

Presently, we found ourselves standing before the quartet of adventurers, myself somewhat behind Leandro due to my healthy respect for people who could chop me up into kindling without breaking a sweat. Compared to the well-groomed and well-dressed seated before me, I was suddenly aware of how disreputable I must appear wearing ill-fitting, stolen clothes and operating on a few hours of sleep. Apparently sharing the thought, the group stared up at us for a long while before, at long last, the black-haired man spoke.

"This your friend?"

Giving a half bow, Leandro gestured vaguely in my direction. "That is correct, señor."

Put on the spot, I did my best to seem harmless and nodded a greeting, and not for the first time, I wished I could have shared in Leandro's imperturbable good spirits.

"Khaza," I offered, silence swelling between us.

The man nodded, bright blue eyes flicking up and down before holding on my own. "Randall."

Despite my initial impression of the man as roughly my own age, this close, I could see that he must have been in his early forties, crow's feet pulling at the corners of his eyes and streaks of silver threading his somewhat thinning black hair. More interesting than his age, however, was the fiery fist tattooed on his forearm and the pale scar that traced its way from the edge of his right temple to the bottom of his left cheek, the winding trail passing over a nose that had been broken and crudely reset at some point in his life.

"Bortai," the half-orc stuttered, puncturing the silence with a voice only a little louder than the quiet tattoo his fingers beat on the table.

Beside him, the auburn-haired half-elf cocked her head to the side and smiled broadly, her jade green eyes unexpectedly warm and friendly and her voice smooth like honey. "Sariel."

"Jalana," the fourth and final member of the adventuring party coughed, the blonde woman briefly turning away from her plate of all things greasy and delicious to spare me a disinterested look.

This close, I could see everything from the thick copper bangles clutching Jalana's wrists to the trio of songbirds tattooed down Sariel's neck. Taken all together, they seemed a strange group to meet on the road to Waterdeep, but then I was a visitor from another plane of existence, so I could hardly talk.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," I declared, injecting considerably more confidence than I felt into my words.

"Indeed," Leandro added cheerily. "It is not every day that we encounter fellows such as yourselves questing for glory."

Fighting the urge to roll my eyes behind my comrade's back, I instead turned my attention to the meat of the matter. "My friend told me you've hired us to help you with something."

"Straight to business, then," Randall replied in a way one could almost be forgiven for thinking was happy, a slight upturn tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Saves me from having to try and be diplomatic."

"Thank the gods," I heard Sariel mutter under her breath.

"There's a town called Glumhoff 'bout a half day's journey from here," the older man continued as if hearing nothing. "Small place, been here forever, serves as a nice stopover point for traders. 'Parrently someone's started mucking about with the graves there. Digging them up, disturbing them."

"Necromancer!" Leandro hissed softly, the words sending a chill down my spine.

It'd be just my luck to get in a fight against a fucking necromancer, I thought as my mind immediately turned to the task of making up excuses for why I couldn't help.

"S'what we assumed when we first heard it," Randall said, nodding sagely. "S'why we weren't too keen to take the job. Had enough of that sort of heroics back with that Absolute business in Baldur's Gate."

Bortai coughed. "A fascinating plot, but a little too..." He trailed off and shuddered.

"Successful," Sariel added sombrely, her eyes downcast. Wordlessly, Jalana ceased eating and engulfed the woman's hand with her own.

"No," Randall continued unexpectedly, once again ignoring the diversion. "Turns out no bodies are missing; someone's just been digging up graves and taking trinkets, rings, and things like that."

I sucked my teeth. "Sounds like grave robbers, then."

"Indeed," Bortai agreed.

"Then why would this town, this-" I wracked my mind, "this Glumhoff need adventurers? Seems weird the townies can't handle it themselves."

Randall shrugged; the clink of chainmail and creak of leather audible above the steadily growing noise of breakfasting traders.

"All the messenger said is that it's an old graveyard a ways out of town. Far enough that the local guards don't want to bother, but close enough it's got some of the old timers up in arms 'bout some sin-ugly bastard tossing their great-great-great grandad for coin."

"Upon my honour, they will be stopped," Leandro interjected hotly, venom tinging his words.

I won't lie; I boggled at the hot-headed man.

For as long as I'd known him, which wasn't much more than a few weeks, he'd never taken such a tone. Glancing around the table, I realised I wasn't alone in noticing the sudden edge to the swordsman's tone, the fur-clad Jalana lending him an inscrutable look before returning to comfort her friend.

"So you just want a hand keeping an eye on things, then?" I asked, putting aside Leandro's outburst and dragging my mind back to the present.

"Bout the sum of it," Randall agreed. "Pparently, it's a big cemetery, so we need a few extra eyes to cover the grounds for a few days."

"It was good fortune that we ran into you when we did," he added, "else we'd have to hire some locals, and they get spooked too easily or sneak off to have dinner with their folks."

Somehow, without knowing quite how and rather more quickly than I would have assumed possible, I was considering the man's offer of employment; something about his assurances and tone short-circuiting the instincts I'd developed in the weeks since I arrived on Toril.

Certainly, I thought, Leandro had all but agreed for the both of us already, but a few days spent watching over some mouldering graves in a backwoods village would be some of the easiest money we'd earned since I'd arrived on the plane. And if we did run into whoever was robbing graves, well... I had a great deal of pent-up frustration to get out.

"Sounds good to me," I replied, giving in to what felt like an inevitability and stepping out from behind Leandro to offer my hand.

Rising to his feet, Randall grabbed my hand in an iron grip and pumped it up and down. "Welcome aboard, son. We're glad to have the pair of you."

Arcus · Dec 6, 2023

PetroleumMedium! said:
If this question is not allowed to be answered due to Privacy, then that's perfectly okay!

My question is who are the judges for this competition?

Skippy said:
As soon as we are done finalising the judging panel, that will be no problem at all.

Rules post should be updated now.

Balthanon · Dec 7, 2023

A Christmas Medley
Stave One
__________________________________________________

Yawning, Emma flopped back onto her bed, her phone dropping onto the red and purple quilt covering it, screen glowing brightly for only a moment before it flickered off. She was so bored. Her friends were all stuck doing Christmassy stuff and she was almost regretting snubbing her Mom and Anne when they asked if she wanted to make cookies with them.

Almost, but she had no real interest in baking cookies that she couldn't eat if she wanted to maintain her figure anyway. It's not like she was going to bring them into school and hand them out to all her friends to make them fat either. She scoffed slightly, remembering Madison trying that when she was first trying to join her circle and the merciless teasing she endured before stammering out some excuse about "testing" everyone's resolve and trashing them.

Probably a lie, but Emma had been willing to let it go when she proved herself later that week by doing something funny to Taylor. She didn't even remember what it was now, but it didn't really matter.

Closing her eyes, Emma let her thoughts drift and eventually ended up in that hazy place somewhere between a restful sleep and being awake; only to start awake as she heard the sound of something scraping against the window from outside.

Propping herself up on her elbows, she peered at the soft moonlight streaming through the panes of glass and finally convinced herself that she had been hearing things. They had no trees on their property and if it was Sophia or something, she would have just come in. A quick check of her phone showed her it was nearly 1 o'clock in the morning and way too early to get up. Wiggling up the bed, she took a moment to flick off the strappy shoes she had been wearing, tossed her phone onto the nightstand, and then just pulled the quilt on top of the bed around herself before closing her eyes again.

Moments later, at least from the feel of it, she found herself dumped unceremoniously from her bed and shivering on the floor. Her arms wrapped about herself before she even opened her eyes and she found her teeth chattering.

"Get up, right now, young lady. You and I have some things to talk about."

Emma's eyes flew open and she saw a sight that caused her to scramble back into the corner, the chattering of her teeth no longer entirely due to the cold.

Standing in the center of her room and glowing a soft, pale white light was a scowling woman that she hadn't seen in over two years-- one that she had, quite legitimately she thought, never expected to see again because she was dead. Which… admittedly might explain why she was slightly transparent and her features were slightly blurred, though still easily recognizable as Annette Hebert.

The chains that were weaving around her former friend's mother in an eerie fashion and wrapped around her body reached out and Emma shied away, but they just hovered about her as the woman stared at her with a… slightly upset expression.

Venturing a small, barely there whisper, Emma asked, "Au-auntie Annette..?"

Correction, her expression was very upset. "I don't think you have any right to call me that, anymore, do you, Emma?" Despite the clear anger, her voice was unsettlingly calm, settling into that lecturing tone that Emma had heard more times than she could count when she was younger.

Shaking her head, Emma sucked in her lips, stopping herself from saying anything else as she tried to wrap her head around what was happening. The eerie scratching noise she had heard earlier was a low level hiss in the background and Emma's eyes flickered over to the window, where she saw the chains moving along the open casement and stretching outside of the room.

"I have little time, so we must finish this quickly-- as you have guessed, I am…" She paused, then stared into the distance with a haunted expression. "I was, Annette Hebert."

Emma drew in a sharp breath, then stammered out…. "G-ghosts don't exist, you, you're just some… some cape thing."

A slight smile played across the apparition's lips and she said, "So you doubt, do you? You know so well the way of the world and all things contained within its majestic or moldering corners. Powers may exist, but not spirits, not wraiths, not the remnants of what we once were in life…."

"You, you told me and Taylor that the simplest explanation is usually the right one, yourself."

"Ahh, and ghosts not being ghosts is the… simplest explanation?" Her lips quirked and Emma had the feeling she was being mocked, which substituted some of the cold terror she was feeling for anger, or at least indignation. Taylor's Mom had always been… sharp, in a way that her own wasn't. Taylor used to have some of that herself before she turned into a lump that did nothing but cry.

Before she could say anything else though, Annette's eyes focused again and the smile left her lips and the anger returned. "To be fair, I don't really care if you believe me though, because I'm not sure you will change even if you do. So here is the warning I am obligated to give to you, Emma Barnes."

"In life, I fought for those I felt deserved a better chance, but the means that I did so turned cruel and capricious in the end. I believed that I was doing right, that I was justified in my cruelty and it served a greater purpose… but, I was wrong. Oh, so very, very wrong.

"Even in life, I knew this-- knew that I had made the wrong choices, I escaped my youthful follies and repented, and so my burdens are only as light as what you see before you."

Emma's eyes turned to the chains floating through the air and noted the weight of others that had settled upon the bed, causing it to creak beneath the burden.

"I give to you now the warning that you tread the same path as I, and having given that warning, if you do not turn back, your burdens shall be all the greater should you continue down your current path."

Emma looked up at the spirit and shivered. She kindled that small ball of anger though, resentment for the implications and said, "So how am I supposed to 'turn back', I haven't--"

"If you finish that sentence, you're not going to have a chance to get your three visits from the spirits. We both know exactly why you're getting this visit, Emma. You can play pretend for your friends, your parents, the school, but I've seen exactly what you've done to my daughter. I can only hope there's a sliver of the little girl I used to know in there, because otherwise, I'm not sure why you're even getting this opportunity."

Emma opened her mouth and then Annette was abruptly a couple inches from her, her eyes fiery and her words no longer measured and even. "Three visits, Emma. Three chances to turn back. Don't waste them."

And as abruptly as it had all started, it was over. Between one breath and another, the ghost was gone, the chains were gone, and the window closed. If she wasn't on the floor huddled in the corner, her heart pounding through her ears, and the room still icy, she would have thought it all a dream… but she was pretty sure she going to be lucky to be able to sleep tomorrow night, let alone tonight.

__________________________________________________

Author's Note: This may or may not have actually been started last year... and I have been telling myself I should finish stories before I start posting them.... But on the other hand, it is the right time of the year and maybe this will actually get me to finish off the story before Christmas. Let's go ahead and post. Here anyway, I'll get to posting it in User Fiction later. Maybe I can even finish it before the contest ends so I can hold to that second point.

DragonUnitOmega · Dec 14, 2023

All riiiight. Another first chapter contest! Man, I was hoping for another. Heh heh. Now to think of what to pos—

Arcus said:
You must also post your entry to its own thread on SV, and include a link to said thread, in order to qualify for any prizes.

Wait what.

Arcus said:
Wait, what's this new requirement about posting the entry to a thread?
We're making it explicit this time, the point is to get people's stories out there on the forum. Of course, you might want to polish up and revise your entry first, which is why we're not requiring you do it immediately, but you'll have to do it before we hand out the prizes if you want to get your participation (or better) rewards.

...
Well...crap.
Looks like I'm not participating this time...

Well. I mean I still could. You just need to post a thread corresponding to the chapter, after all.

But like. The spirit is to get new works out, right? But I don't have anything ready to put out. Partially because I've been mainly focusing on one fic the past few years so that I can actually finish it and partially because how I write means it'll take time to get a chaptered work feel "ready to post" for me.
So I'd feel...bad if I just used a first chapter of something I'm planning but haven't actually done the groundwork, put the thread up, and just...leave it there to collect dust for a long time all because I wanted it up for this contest but not actually have it ready, you know? (Plus a part of me feels like I'd be bending the rules that way but I can't tell if I'm overthinking it or not)
So...unfortunately for me, I'm not joining in on this...
Tho I guess the intent of this contest still works either way 'cause now I wanna get off my butt to put up this snippet collection I've been meaning to put up.

Meanwhile, good luck to all the rest who'll join in on this contest! May your muse be cooperative with you.

Arcus · Dec 14, 2023

DragonUnitOmega said:
All riiiight. Another first chapter contest! Man, I was hoping for another. Heh heh. Now to think of what to pos—

Wait what.

...
Well...crap.
Looks like I'm not participating this time...

Well. I mean I still could. You just need to post a thread corresponding to the chapter, after all.

But like. The spirit is to get new works out, right? But I don't have anything ready to put out. Partially because I've been mainly focusing on one fic the past few years so that I can actually finish it and partially because how I write means it'll take time to get a chaptered work feel "ready to post" for me.
So I'd feel...bad if I just used a first chapter of something I'm planning but haven't actually done the groundwork, put the thread up, and just...leave it there to collect dust for a long time all because I wanted it up for this contest but not actually have it ready, you know? (Plus a part of me feels like I'd be bending the rules that way but I can't tell if I'm overthinking it or not)
So...unfortunately for me, I'm not joining in on this...
Tho I guess the intent of this contest still works either way 'cause now I wanna get off my butt to put up this snippet collection I've been meaning to put up.

Meanwhile, good luck to all the rest who'll join in on this contest! May your muse be cooperative with you.

Rather than it being against the spirit of the rules I'd say it's just a thing that you can do to meet the contest requirements. Practically speaking it's unenforceable, and also we don't want to discourage people from participating. That said, once you've already cleared the hurdle of actually posting the first chapter to the forum, you might find the second and third steps of continuing to post to be slightly easier.

The other thing to note is that when I was originally conceptualizing this contest, part of the intent was to give those new stories a little boost to help them along when they're still trying to find their feet. Threads die all the time for all sorts of reasons, but we can at least offer a platform for people to showcase their works and give them a little bit of feedback, and hopefully that encourages at least one writer to keep going where they would have otherwise stopped.

DragonUnitOmega · Dec 15, 2023

Arcus said:
Rather than it being against the spirit of the rules I'd say it's just a thing that you can do to meet the contest requirements. Practically speaking it's unenforceable, and also we don't want to discourage people from participating.

Ah, okay.

Arcus said:
That said, once you've already cleared the hurdle of actually posting the first chapter to the forum, you might find the second and third steps of continuing to post to be slightly easier.

Wait, it does? Hmm... I mean, I'll admit I'm now reconsidering after clarifying about the thread posting requirement, but...would just putting up the first chapter really help? 'Cause like...how I'm doing my current fic is that I first write chapters for backlog that I post on a schedule. But I have neither a full outline nor several chapters, just one first chapter draft, for the main work I'm now considering to put for this contest. So to me, posting it now (after editing of course) feels like I'm dooming it to inativity like my very very old attempts at multi chaptered fics, where I posted the chapters as soon as I wrote them but then...eventually lost steam.

Tl;dr: on one hand, i really really really wanna "Just. DO IT" after your encouragement, on the other hand experience tells me it's bad idea for me otherwise. so what are your thoughts on that? cause i'm ~~indecisive~~ curious

Arcus said:
The other thing to note is that when I was originally conceptualizing this contest, part of the intent was to give those new stories a little boost to help them along when they're still trying to find their feet. Threads die all the time for all sorts of reasons, but we can at least offer a platform for people to showcase their works and give them a little bit of feedback, and hopefully that encourages at least one writer to keep going where they would have otherwise stopped.

In that case: I just wanna let you to know I really appreciate that you thought of this contest. Always nice having some way to help new stories.

Sandy River DL · Dec 15, 2023

...Okay, there's my incentive to finish at least one chapter of Hell to Reign. *wanders off to get another 600 words written*

Sandy River DL · Dec 16, 2023

Hell to Reign - Worm/Heroes of Might and Magic [Mature] (eventual)
Chapter 1

The space between realities is a strange place. A baffling nonexistence full of subdimensional eddies incomprehensible even to beings that had long ago evolved the ability to traverse it, and it is here that the fate of a single human girl shifted and changed the path of countless worlds.

When the primary Administrative Shard of the Warrior Entity reached to finalize its connection to one Taylor Hebert, an unexpected outpouring of rage joined the vortex of despair that had formed as the teen realized that no one considered her life to hold value, stirring the currents of primordial energy the biocrystal computer had prepared for into a chaotic storm, one which carried the now disrupted linkage far beyond the realm that had been sectioned off by the cosmic parasites and into a shell of arcane power which served to imprison a very different ancient being. The arrival of the half-configured Shard interface did not go unnoticed, as the Chaotic Dragon took hold of it, joining mortal to demon and binding Sheogh to the will of a bullied and near-broken youth.

On one Earth, a locker shuddered under the impact of atmospheric redistribution in response to a mass displacement. On another, a continent-sized fragment of something both greater and lesser sat frozen for several minutes, before it could formulate a response to its planned host's disappearance. [BELGIUM] How was [ADMINISTRATOR] supposed to steal the Network from [IDIOT DAD] now?

---

I collapsed onto polished basalt, no longer supported by the claustrophobic confines of my biohazardous locker, panting and gasping for air, then gagged as the distinctive reek of brimstone flooded my nostrils, replacing the horrid mélange of rot and vomit that I'd been suffering for the past couple of hours. Rolling onto my side, I let out a low groan.

"So that's what a trigger event feels like. No wonder there's so many villains running around, and why even the heroes are kinda dysfunctional." Glancing around the black stone chamber I'd appeared in with a critical eye, I took in the volcanic baronial aesthetic and a large archway nearby. Beyond that was a balcony looking out toward a massive lavafall. "Well, now I know what power I wound up with. The mover ability to teleport to Hell. Where's Dante when you need the guy to show you around?"

"I know not who this 'Dante' may be, but my name is Beth and it would be my pleasure to serve as your guide my lady," an unexpected voice spoke, practically purring. "It is not every day one has the opportunity to escort a new unholy champion, especially not one brought to us by the will of Urgash Himself…"

Startled, I scrambled to my feet and turned to face the newcomer. A tall, ash-grey woman stood in a smaller doorway opposite the balcony, a pair of oddly curving horns atop her bald head that, along with the wings, tail, and cloven hooves, displayed her nature. Felling my cheeks heat up, I pressed my eyes shut in an effort not to gawk at the succubus. That was certainly one way of discovering an interest in girls, having a lust demon metaphorically slapping you in the face with her hips.

"You can't exactly take in the sights of Ur-Hekal with your eyes shut, my lady~," the succubus commented. "It is also rather easy to walk into things, and most of Sheogh's denizens are much less pleasant to bump into than myself~"

I couldn't help it. I directed a baffled stare at the demoness, who now had her arms crossed under her bust. Which did nothing to help my focus, and the smirk on her lips made it very clear to me that that was entirely intentional. Because of course it was.

"So…" I pointedly averted my gaze, setting my attention on a column of obsidian located on another wall, leaving the demon in my peripheral vision. "What, specifically, do you mean by 'unholy champion'? That sounds important, and not particularly friendly."

A melodic laugh echoed through the chamber. "Of course it's important my lady! That you are an unholy champion means that you were selected by the Dragon of Chaos, the creator of demonkind, to lead us and rule this realm. That you were selected not long after the last eclipse ended is odd, I will admit, but clearly there is a plan."

Great. Being the center of a demon god's plot was a truly amazing start for a hero…

Then an unpleasant-sounding voice cut through the air like a particularly dull knife. "What, exactly, brings a human girl to this realm, and a waif of a child at that?"

My head snapped around to lock my gaze on the speaker, a towering figure clad in fiery orange armor that basically screamed 'Big Bad'. I would probably never know what came over that my first response to seeing him was to throw a bolt of lightning I didn't know I could create at him.

---

I glared at the shimmering orb before me, displaying my bedroom.

"Seriously?! I could've just opened a portal home right from the start?"

Beth giggled. "Most certainly, my Sovereign. The gifts your status as an unholy champion affords are many, such as those you used to slay Kha-Beleth and claim his title. Creating a dimension door is a trifling matter in comparison. That you can reach your home, however, is interesting as it means you are not from Ashan as other servants of Urgash have been."

Collapsing the portal, I shot a look at the fiery orange helmet resting on the ground by my feet, where it had rolled after its last owner had fallen to me. As much as I disliked the idea, I really didn't want to take the time to track down something else to conceal my identity. Scooping up the spike-crowned piece of armor, I then slipped it on and called up another gateway, this time with the front entrance of the PRT building on the other end.

"Well," I said, sighing. "I'm off to ensure I don't accidentally get myself branded as a villain, or worse, an S-class threat, when I gate in any of you. While I'm away, I want you to start spreading the word about who the new boss is. Assuming nothing stupid happens, I'll be back in a few hours to start settling into whatever chambers I got by taking over. No idea how much time I'll be spending here, but having a space set up would make it much easier for me to do so."

With that, I stepped through the hole in reality onto the concrete pavement of my hometown once more. Shutting the gate with a thought, I strode through the PRT building's doors and made a beeline for the front desk.

Meeting the receptionist's eye through my helmet's slits, I spoke with more calm than I strictly felt. "Hello, I'm a recently triggered parahuman and would like to talk to someone about joining the Wards."

The startled man blinked twice, glanced between my ruined clothes and malevolent head-wear, and then typed something on his computer.

"I've passed on your request miss. Take a seat," he gestured towards a row of chairs along a nearby wall, "and someone will be along in a few minutes to collect you for preliminary talks and power testing."

Well, he took that surprisingly well considering how much of a mess I was. Then again, he's probably seen worse appearances from people coming in in the aftermath of cape battles.

Shooting a look at the seats, I settled against the wall instead. Easier to clean than upholstery and frankly I wasn't interested in sitting right now, not with how I'd gotten knocked on my ass by the demon whose helmet I was now wearing. Wincing, I shifted a little to take pressure off the likely bruise on my right shoulder from the same landing. Whatever 'gifts' I supposedly had, they clearly didn't come with a Brute rating.

"So, you must be the perspective Ward," said a green-and-gold leonine figure who emerged from the hall just on the other side of the front desk. Triumph, current leader of the team I was here to join.

"I didn't realize that the Wards handled their own recruitment," I replied. "Oh, and yes. I'll admit though that under other circumstances I wouldn't have come in, but with my powers I felt that it would be best choice."

"Well, unless you're a human Master, I don't think you'll have too much trouble here. And even if you chose not to join up after power testing, it's very unlikely you'll be mistaken for a villain simply because of your powers," the older boy replied, a smile evident in his voice. "Baring your power being to create evil-looking costumes or something."

I couldn't help but laugh at that. "No, sadly not. Let's get moving, and I'll tell you once we're out of public."

The leonine hero's body shifted in a way that, somehow, conveyed the impression of a raised eyebrow. That probably took a lot of work to get down properly… "Alright then, just be aware that any abilities you know of that could pose a threat to the testing staff must be reported prior to testing. It's for everyone's safety."

With that, he turned back towards the hall he'd come through and began walking, which I took as a signal to follow.

Surprisingly, or perhaps no with how quickly he'd arrived, we turned into a conference room almost immediately on entering the hall. Then a proper surprise struck as Triumph waved a hand over a patch of wall, that then slid open to reveal a hidden elevator that was probably some sort of covert access for the Wards or something. Very Ian Flemming of the PRT. As soon as the doors closed behind us, my guide and soon-to-be team leader spoke.

"So, what is this 'super villainous' power you're being cagey about."

I slumped against the elevator wall with a groan. "I can create portals to and from Hell, command demons, and have a small grab-bag of minor blaster powers such as lightning bolts and frost beams," I said, having decided to just rip the bandage off. "One of the demons claims said grab-bag is more than just the blaster stuff though. I don't actually have control over the demons by the way, I ended up killing one before I came here because… he was being a problem."

The leonine helmet of the older boy tipped slightly and he didn't reply. Silence reigned in the elevator for several painfully long moments before he spoke again. "Well. That certainly explains you thinking you'd be branded a villain on sight if you tried going independent."

The doors slid open and he gestured toward the new hallway. "Alright, the testing center is right at the end. Head there and tell the staff what you told me about your powers. They should also be able to provide you with something clean to wear, just a basic jumpsuit normally used for testing Changers, but better than keeping on ruined clothes. I'll start things for you with Image, as that… will likely be a bit of a challenge for them."

I nodded, and started towards the indicated door. This was going to be… interesting, to say the least.

MangoFlan · Dec 16, 2023

Well, I'd like to post my new chapter. I've been working on it for days, but it would certainly not qualify for some of the criteria. It was certainly over 4k words long, not an Intro to a new story or quest, and would likely need some need some backreading.

However, I am about to enter a new arc that should be relatively independent from all the other chapters, and I wonder if it's eligible to be entered.

Questwolf · Dec 16, 2023

Dragon of Darkness
Chapter 1: Walls and Whispers

Awareness crept up upon her, as with imperceptible slowness the nothingness of nonexistence gave way to an indescribable somethingness. By degrees she became aware of herself, of the curled up bundle that was her body and the soft rhythm beating within it. Eventually, with great caution she extended questing limbs outward, into the unknown and in so doing she found the wall. The wall was solid, so hard and firm that it did not yield to her touch. Through careful exploration she came to understand that the wall surrounded her on all sides, holding her in place within its embrace. Languidly the thought came to her that the wall felt rather nice. For a while she ruminated on that, but then the thought fled her as awareness faded and she slipped back into the void of unconsciousness. Yet when she woke she remembered. She remembered the soft heartbeat within her, the body that was her, and the wall that surrounded her. Sure enough all those things still existed despite her stint of unawareness.

For a time it was just her, the rhythm of heartbeats, and the wall that surrounded her. Unawareness came and went and she came to understand the cycle of sleep and wakefulness. She suspected that the heartbeat continued even as she slept though she could not say for sure. She was certain the wall remained present even as she slumbered for it was not a transient presence as wakefulness was but a solid thing she could touch and feel. She was contemplating how lovely and comforting the wall around her felt, when with startling abruptness a new thought appeared within her mind. I serve the Void Gods. The thought came out of nothing and nowhere, wet and dripping with impossible knowledge. She immediately identified the strange thought as not her own for it was clearly not about her, the heartbeat or the wall. What were gods? Carefully she turned the alien thought over in her mind, feeling out the shape of it. She got the impression of incomprehensible things, that loomed impossibly large. To act as they demanded was only natural, claimed the thought that was not hers.

After a moment of consideration she came to a stunning revelation. These gods must exist somewhere beyond the wall! It seemed an impossible conclusion for the wall was all encompassing, surrounding her on all sides and reassuringly solid. Yet the thought had to have come from somewhere, and she would have surely felt something as large and strange as these gods apparently were if they existed within the wall as she did. Thinking of where these gods were in the great unknown that apparently existed outside the comforting embrace of the wall made her feel terribly small. It was like the time before she discovered the wall when she had extended herself into the unknown, not knowing what she would find.

Even as she considered the great unknown beyond the wall, new thoughts came to her. They came to her as she was awake and thinking and they came while she was asleep and unaware, filling her mind with half remembered things that fled her when she woke. After many cycles of sleep and wakefulness she came to think of these alien thoughts as whispers, but that did not help her understand them. She tried to make sense of them by reviewing those she had thought while awake. The Void Gods will guide me to Power inestimable. What was power? Destiny in Darkness. She knew neither darkness nor destiny. All will fall before me. What? How? Why? I embrace the void. The only embrace she knew was that of the wall. The only void was that of sleep. They are inevitable. Who were they? The void gods from the first whisper perhaps, but what did it mean to be inevitable?

The whispers all made perfect sense when she first thought them but considering them after that, the whispers practically bubbled with unknowns and uncertainties. With things she did not know how she knew. It was frustrating. She much preferred to think of the wall. As time had passed it had grown closer, coming to embrace her more tightly. She gently ran her limbs across the smooth, gently curving shape of the wall drawing comfort from the sensation. The wall could be touched and felt unlike the mysterious gods that she theorized existed somewhere in the great unknown beyond the wall. That made the wall far more real and understandable to her than the strange and alien gods the whispers told her of. She wiggled her body against the reassuring solidness of the wall for a little longer before sleep claimed her and she sunk into the void of unconsciousness once more.

She awoke to sound. Not the everpresent soft, steady thumping of her heartbeat (though that was there) but a new, far louder, totally different sound wholly unlike it. Shaking off the hazy memories of the whispers that had come to her as she slept she focused her attention on the new noise. It was harsh, hissing, and warbling in vivid contrast to her heartbeat but more excitingly the noise seemed to emanate from some point far beyond the wall! Perhaps this was the heartbeat of a god? She listened intently as the sound rose and fell, its intensity varying seemingly at random. She tried to divine some new information about the great unknown beyond the wall from this sound but after only a short while the noise ceased, leaving her with only the steady thumping of her heart, a noise that suddenly seemed incredibly soft and quiet.

As the sleep cycles past the unknown warbling sound returned with increasingly frequency if frustratingly inconsistency. At least by listening carefully she was able to detect other softer sounds that sometimes came before or after the warbling. Between sounds from the great unknown and the whispers she had much more to think on than she had in the past. Using what little she understood from the sounds and the whispers she tried to imagine the shape of the great unknown beyond the wall exploring it with her mind as her body had explored the wall with touch. She attempted to arrange where void, gods, darkness, destiny, and the other things the whispers spoke lay in relation to each other and the wall she lay curled up within. Then she tried to guess which of them made the warbling noise.

Her big breakthrough in this grand endeavor came when the whispers for the first time ever repeated themselves. She thought for the second time of Destiny in darkness. What that meant or why the whisper had come again she could not say but it gave her the idea to compare the warbling sounds to each other more closely to see if they ever repeated. At first look they did not - every warbling varied in length and volume seemingly without reason. But as she carefully remembered each sound she realized that bits and pieces did sound alike! What she had taken for a single sound was in fact many different sounds all coming one after the other. Some of those smaller sounds were repeated in almost every warbling! What the significance of this was she did not know but it was a great discovery nonetheless.

Of course even as she turned her contemplations outward to the great unknown she did not neglect her oldest companion, the wall. It had grown increasingly close of late to the point she did not have to extend any part of herself outwards in order to feel the wall all around her. While this felt very cozy she did wonder what was causing this increased closeness. In her earliest memories she'd had to extend her forelimb out quite far to reach the wall, yet now it was only a twitch or idle wiggle away, even curled as tightly around herself as she was. Yet perhaps this was simply the way of things. For as long as she could remember the wall had slowly grown closer. It was probably just the way the wall was. Idly she wondered what would happen when there was nothing at all separating her body from the wall.

Arcus · Dec 17, 2023

MangoFlan said:
Well, I'd like to post my new chapter. I've been working on it for days, but it would certainly not qualify for some of the criteria. It was certainly over 4k words long, not an Intro to a new story or quest, and would likely need some need some backreading.

However, I am about to enter a new arc that should be relatively independent from all the other chapters, and I wonder if it's eligible to be entered.

Hmm, this is definitely something of a gray area. Generally we've been pretty permissive with contest entries in the past though. One way to think about it is this, I suppose: If your story was in print book or television show format, would the chapter work as the pilot episode of a new season or the opening to a sequel/prequel/etc novel?

If it's over 4k words, I would definitely suggest you trim it down before posting it to the contest, as anything past the word limit will just be ignored.

MangoFlan · Dec 17, 2023

Arcus said:
Hmm, this is definitely something of a gray area. Generally we've been pretty permissive with contest entries in the past though. One way to think about it is this, I suppose: If your story was in print book or television show format, would the chapter work as the pilot episode of a new season or the opening to a sequel/prequel/etc novel?

If it's over 4k words, I would definitely suggest you trim it down before posting it to the contest, as anything past the word limit will just be ignored.

The next Era would be like the pilot to a new season, but I would have to finish writing the current season's grand finale.

Yeah that is kinda a problem. However, it partially stems on the fact that every update is technically more like a collection of short stories (and a bunch of description), but the first update of an Era should be pretty short.

ltmauve · Dec 18, 2023

A Crown of Biosteel

Chapter 1 - Vestibule to the Next Life

Thursday, 12 October 2028

PO3 Marcus Bradley took a swig of coffee, then swung himself out of his car. He shut the door and locked the old sedan before turning to the office and walking across the parking lot,to a half-abandoned strip mall. He fished through his pockets for the keys to the doors. The left outer one had the deadbolt and the "United States Navy Recruiting Command" seal on it.

Key in, turn counterclockwise once, clockwise once, key out. Marcus pulled the door and stepped inside the vestibule. He moved towards the inner doors, noticing a pair of boots. A pair of high-heeled, black, metal, segmented boots, being worn by - pale skin - faintly glowing red eyes. Is it colder in here?

There was an Abyssal in the vestibule to his recruiting station. An Abyssal, wearing a grey hoodie, stretched around the metal of her gloves, and clutching a bulky backpack in front of her.

"Hello?" She asked, suddenly looming over him, the red glare of her eyes falling down on him. "Can we move inside before anyone notices?"

His mind focused on the words, deadlocked thoughts being pulled apart like a gun during a failed firearm certification, and she seemed almost as scared as him, he noticed.

"Yes, sure. Inside." He said, unlocking the inner door. Marcus walked through, followed by the click of metal on metal as the Abyssal took the door behind him. As the door shut, he looked around.

"Sit there." He pointed. The windows to the left of the doors had a big "SHE CAN"T DO IT ALONE" poster with USS Enterprise posing heroically with her rigging deployed, hair blowing dramatically in a fake breeze, in front of a line of sailors, with the silhouettes Navy warships behind them. No one was looking through that window, because either the poster was cool and they were focusing on it, or they thought it was over the top and weren't looking near it.

"I will be right back." With that he moved, stepping into his office, and smoothly clicking the button that locked the door. Which, he immediately realized, would be about as useful as tissue paper ar stopping the Abyssal if she decided to barge in And even if he had a solid steel door, doors were strictly optional for shipgirls according to the scuttlebutt, and therefore presumably Abyssals.

Still, he picked up his phone and called "Boss PO2 Gallene." His eyes flicked to the door as the line rang, before going to voicemail.

"This is Marcus Bradley. There is currently an Abyssal inside the office." He gulped. "Please advise."

He texted his superior with the same message, eyes switching between his phone and the door in a manner that made a ping-pong ball look sedate. Then called again, immediately hanging up on getting voicemail. Then he repeated the process twice more before getting through. Get the message out.

"Petty Officer Third Class Bradley, what is so urgent that it can't possibly wait?" Josephina Gallene asked.

"There is an Abyssal in the office." He said.

There was a pause. "That better not be a joke. Because if it is, it tastes so bad it's a wonder I haven't puked."

"Not a joke." He said.

There was another pause. "How?"

"She was hiding in the vestibule." He said.

"We are in Ohio." His boss stated bluntly.

"I know!" He hissed.

"Hostile?" She asked.

Marcus frowned. "No."

"Cosplay?"

"Ummm... the eye glow looked pretty real." Marcus sighed.

"Did you see any cameras?"

"No. Didn't get a very good look." He sighed.

"In which case I will contact the rest of the office and make sure no one else enters the building. You go and talk to her. Get whatever information you can, and record the conversation. I'm going to mute my end and you will keep me on speaker. Also, lock the doors." Was the marching orders.

Marcus stared at the phone for a second before sighing and bringing up a recorder app, then touching the speakerphone button.

Thus unarmed and unprepared, he opened the door and stepped out.

The Abyssal was still sitting there, tapping her claws impatiently on the armrest of her chair. Her hood was down, revealing a long, pale ponytail high on her head.

"Sorry, that took a little longer than expected." He said, taking a moment to glance over her. He didn't see something that could be a camera, but he wasn't an expert. Actually, on second glance, she'd hidden her backpack somewhere.

"Who'd you call?" She asked.

"My C.O." He slumped a little. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm inevitably going to get found out by you; better to show up on my terms than getting found." She said.

"I meant in Ohio, but sure." He stated, reaching over to lock the inner doors of the vestibule.

"Less than seven hours ago, I went to sleep in a house nearby as an ordinary human. I didn't look anything like this." She gestured at her face.

"Wait, what?" Marcus asked.

"Yup. No clue how it happened." She sighed.

"Any roommates? How did they react?"

"I'm fourteen. I was up at four in the morning, and I snuck out before my parents and brother noticed." She grimaced. "They would not take it well."

Marcus really didn't know what to say about that. Especially the fact that she was apparently only fourteen. She certainly didn't look it. Way too tall for starters.

"I'm sure they could be brought around...." He tried, settling into the chair opposite her.

The Abyssal just stared at him for several long seconds, eyes practically blazing. "Very funny. But no, absolutely no chance of that" She practically spat.

"So... you have a name?" He tried. She did relax a bit at that.

She hesitated for a couple moments. "Grace."

He decided to ignore the missing last name for a bit.

"So what do you want, Grace?" He asked.

"Asylum. A guarantee that I won't be vivisected. Food. Education." Grace said. "Not to have my parents hounding me."

"I... can't promise anything." Marcus wiped his forehead.

"Yay." Grace snarked, elbows on her knees and chin on her wrists.

"So... what kind of ship are you?" He asked.

"Carrier of some kind. Probably get a CVB pennant number if I get commissioned." She shrugged.

Marcus nodded. She was certainly big enough for that. He'd seen photos of how the Essex sisters loomed over humans nearby.

"You have your air wing?" He asked.

Grace nodded in response.

"Can I see?" He asked.

Grace frowned, then unzipped her hoodie a little, before reaching down the front of her shirt. A moment later, her hand returned, holding what looked sort of like a ray on two of her fingers. A sort of wide diamond of a body, with a little pointy head sticking out and a pair of small fins almost fused into the back, along with a long whiplike tail.

That's where the similarities ended, with the creature Grace was holding having maybe a dozen glowing red eyes both on top and below the body, paired lines of what looked like engine components running down the underside, and other sleek bits of metal integrated into the flesh. Including, he realized a moment later, six holes in the leading edges that were gunports. The underside had a set of shark teeth painted on, just below what looked to be an actual mouth.

The creature made a few screeching clicks at him, before Grace patted it between the three largest eyes with a single finger and tucked it back into her... hanger.

"... Okay." Marcus said, before settling back down into the chair properly.

With absolute proof of her Abyssal nature demonstrated, Marcus wasn't sure how to keep the conversation going.

Neither, apparently, did Grace.

The two of them stared at each other for an awkward moment.

Marcus's phone hissed as the speaker came to life. Both of them glanced at his shirt pocket.

"A few more questions for you, Grace." Gallene interjected into the conversation, via phone. "First, are you certain that your parents won't accept you as you are?"

"Completely." Grace said, shutting her eyes and hissing, mist escaping through her nostrils.

"If the Navy can be convinced that you're safe, I'm sure we can talk them around." Gallene said.

Grace facepalmed, her claws scraping across her forehead with the sound of rubbing metal. "First, don't think I didn't notice that 'If.' Second, my complexion is not the main reason that I'm getting a gun shoved in my face if I try going home. Third, my parents are not the type to listen to democratic authority. They think that the Abyssals are created by the FDA from people locked up in FEMA interment camps.

"You go to bat for me and they try smothering me to death so I don't put the Red Cross microchips in them or some other nonsense." Grace looked up, eyes burning.

"Is your entire family that bad?" Gallene asked.

"I think several of my aunts and uncles have left the cult." Grace said. "No clue how to find them, though. Only ever met one. Once, for like five minutes, and I didn't even know her last name. I definitely wouldn't have the resources to find her by myself."

"Cult?" Marcus asked.

"Not an actual cult. But like, culty behavior." Grace shrugged. "Thinking that they're in a weird cult helps me cut through their nonse- bullshit. Their bullshit." She grinned at the swearing.

"Okay, hiring a PI shouldn't be beyond the navy's means." Gallene said. "I have no idea what the custody situation is going to end up as. I will get the handbook for dealing with natural-borns and we should be able to use that as a start."

"Natural-borns?" Grace asked, confused.

"Wait, you don't know about that?" Marcus asked, at the same time as Gallene's "You haven't heard of those?"

Whatever Grace said in response was interrupted by a rumble coming out of her mouth. Marcus would have expected it to sound like from a horror film; instead his brain immediately began comparisons to his teenaged niece's hunger alarms.

"How much have you had to eat since you woke up?" Gallene asked.

"Six breakfast sandwiches." She said. "I put on sunglasses and walked in, and asked for them to go. It was five in the morning and the cashier looked ready to fall asleep."

"She's going to need more food." Gallene stated. "Let's shelve this discussion for a bit. Bradley, bring her into your office and wait there. Lock the doors and act like no one's home. I'll get everyone else to stop by somewhere and pick up food."

Grace stood up and started walking to the door.

"What about your backpack?" Marcus asked.

In response, Grace reached down into the hem of her boots, and retrieved her backpack. Then she dropped it back down onto her thigh... and apparently back into her hold. How in the I want to be able to do that.

SGMargrave · Dec 19, 2023

ABSOLUTE POWER

Absolute Power is the story of twentysomething superheroes struggling with the best way to be a hero in the modern world.

If you choose to continue reading the story, plz no spoilers.

The moon hovered behind the skyscrapers. Its pale light outlined their edges like chalk on a blackboard. The night was quiet …

… until a sudden burst of action startled the pedestrians on the city's main boulevard. They gawked as an unmarked van ran a red light and careened around a corner. It fishtailed crazily. Its tires spun out, clawing for purchase, leaving tracks of burnt rubber on the concrete. Skipping sideways, the squealing van threatened to hit the parked cars lining the street. But, in the nick of time, it got a grip on the road. It shot forward and sped down the boulevard, the city lights streaking on its windshield.

Inside, Sparks hunched over the wheel. He gripped it so hard a stiff ache went up his wrists and burned in his forearms.

"Come on, come on, come on."

The words spilled absently from his mouth. A holy chant to the god of clean getaways.

He stomped the pedal to the floor and gunned it down the wide boulevard. In their wake, a cacophony of police sirens echoed through the canyon-like streets, but the telltale flash of police cruisers wasn't visible … yet. Sparks swerved in and out of the sparse traffic, his eyes going between the windshield and the driver's side mirror.

Red light ahead. And cars in every lane.

Crap!

He spun the wheel and swung out across the yellow line. Two cars turning onto the street veered to avoid him and banged into each other, blocking the whole road.

Crap!

Heart hammering, he drove the van up onto the sidewalk. It ploughed through a trash can outside a fast food joint. Greasy wrappers, half-empty soda cups, and chunks of cheeseburger splattered all over the windshield and then rolled off. The van sailed off the corner and thudded back onto the street. Swinging across the four-way intersection, he decided on the spur of the moment to go right. To get off the main road and out of sight.

In the back, Muggsy and Jett yelped as they got tossed around. Muggsy was thick in body and in brain. Jett was wiry like a weasel and just as slick.

"Hey, boss!" Muggsy's dopey voice piped up. "You trying to knock us off or something?!"

"Quit your bellyaching," Sparks shot back. "Or it'll be a self-propelling prophecy."

The van shot down the side street, the moonlit roadway speeding past its front grille.

In his snotty, nasal whine, Jett said, "Ain't that a self-fulfilling prophecy, boss?"

"Ooo, listen to Mr. Smart Guy back there!"

Just an empty city street in front of them. He twisted his head to check both mirrors. No cops behind them, either.

And no sign of … them.

As relief seeped through his body, he fought to keep a grin off his face. Too early to celebrate, he thought. But he couldn't help it. His heart soared through the sky like a bird.

We did it. We did it!

Calm down. Find a place to ditch the van. Then celebrate.

"Meantime," Sparks said, "how's about you tell me how much money we scored?"

"I ain't too sure, boss," Jett whined. "You drive so wild I'm seeing double."

"I'll take the difference outta your cut, then. What's the score?"

"About $700 grand," Jett said listlessly.

"That's it?!"

"Lotta things didn't go as planned, remember? We're lucky we got anything at all!"

"Hey, don't jinx us," Muggsy said, his dumb voice weighed down by fright.

As Sparks drove, his eyes swept over the side streets and alleyways. Hunting for anything he didn't like the look of. He squirmed on the padded seat. He had an itchy, sweaty feeling all over, and it wasn't just adrenaline. He felt like he was being herded, corralled, hemmed in by something he couldn't see.

Drive casual. $700,000 ain't worth big risks. Getting hauled off to jail for such a measly figure seems like a waste. Go slow, don't panic.

Tensed-up, Sparks worked his way through the grid of streets. Prying his foot off the gas pedal so the van rolled along at a leisurely 35MPH was like lifting heavy stones with a crowbar. The strain made his ankle ache. Going slow made him paranoid. He took the turns and scanned the streets around them like a guppy afraid of sharks.

"What's the plan, boss?" Jett asked.

"Find a place to ditch this thing."

He rolled up to a double-lane road running past ugly apartment buildings that looked like a bunch of small bricks assembled into very large bricks. Yeah, I know this road. He eased out and casually drove down the street, towards the heart of the city's shady side.

No sirens, no pigs. Drive easy, nobody's got a reason to suspect a thing. A tiny chuckle escaped him. Broke the tension. It felt good to laugh. Well, that's $700 grand we didn't have yesterday. Just find a place to lie low, and we're home free.

A smile cracked his face wide open. "Boys, I think we mighta just got away clean."

Then a shadow zoomed right up the middle of the street and passed over the van.

An icicle of fear stabbed Sparks's heart, melted, and made his blood run cold. He clutched the steering wheel like a sailor with a life preserver. Pushing himself forward onto the edge of his seat, he stuck his head out, past the roof, till his chest nearly honked the horn. Hunting for a familiar shape in the moonlit clouds.

A shape that haunted his nightmares.

His eyes darted all over the sky, looking for the shadow's source, but they found nothing. Nothing but the pale moon, watching them from way up high. He threw himself against the seat back and sank down into the cushion. Sweat dripped freely down his face. He wiped it away with his sleeve.

"It's them," he said.

The two morons surged to front of the van and crowded the empty space next to his seat.

"Where are they?!" Jett asked.

"I don't know."

"Where are they?!" Muggsy the moron bellowed.

"I don't know! Just get the guns out and keep your eyes peeled."

"Bullets don't do a thing to them!" Jett whined.

The strain made Sparks's voice crack into a demented howl. "They can't be bulletproof all over. Just need one lucky shot, that's all!"

Jett and Muggsy drew back. Clatter filled the van as they yanked assault rifles out. Checked the clips. Pulled the bolts back. Sparks flinched at the sharp click. Sounded like a chisel carving his tombstone.

"Jett, bring the spare ammo. In case we need to leg it."

A right turn approached. On a whim, Sparks took it at the last second. The van squealed around the turn, onto a street lined with more brick apartment buildings, empty lots with weeds growing from cracked concrete, and shady shops where you bought stuff with no questions asked. Our home turf, Sparks thought. Streetlights in rows splashed the concrete roadway with pools of light.

Where are those freaks?

Sparks took his right hand off the wheel to wipe the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. But his left hand was also sweaty. The wheel got loose and slipped through his slick palm. The van veered sideways until he clamped his right hand back down on the wheel and wrestled it under control.

"Careful, you mook!" Jett shouted. "You almost blew my brains out!"

Muggsy moaned, "But boss is the one driving—"

"Both of you, shut your traps!" Sparks screamed.

Breathing hard, he scanned the shadows outside the reach of the streetlights.

Maybe you got spooked over nothing. Maybe it was a bird, or a plane, or …

Much farther down the road …

A pair of biker boots strolled across the concrete. Their wearer didn't seem hurried or worried about the distant van barrelling towards them. They reached the double yellow lines and stopped. Even though the faraway van's roaring engine was getting louder, an eerie calm pervaded this little pocket of space. Their toe tapped the concrete. Once, twice, three times. Then, as the final click rang out, the boots stilled.

The van rushed closer.

Then the boots pivoted on their heels and faced the speeding vehicle. Above them were a pair of black jeans. Ripped and slashed, revealing pale skin underneath. A real punk rock look. Above the jeans was a black leather motorcycle vest lined with studs. It hung open, revealing a T-shirt. The woman's left arm had a tattoo of a crow entwined with a fearsome warrior woman hungry for blood. It disappeared into her sleeve, suggesting the ink wrapped around her shoulder.

Her namesake.

Morrigan was thin, yet carried herself with power. Sleek and compact. Every muscle movement, no matter how slight, seemed like it could bend steel. She didn't hesitate; nothing could stand in her way. Her slender face tapered into a narrow chin. She grinned at the van speeding toward her like a cannonball. Her bedhead bob haircut, as black as the raven on her arm, stuck out in a chaotic mess.

Like the world's laziest quarterback, she bent her knees just a little and waited to catch the rushing van. Her ear perked up. Under the roaring engine, she heard …

"Boss, look out!"

Sparks was in the middle of wiping more sweat off his face when Muggsy's dumb voice piped up. Blinking hard through the windshield, he saw … What the hell is that? Then a twinge of recognition made his eyeball twitch. He knew that shape …

Snarling, he stomped the gas pedal. Aimed the van at the freak in the road. Being at the wheel of a hurtling missile made him feel flushed with power, like a bad case of road rage. He cackled loudly.

"Let's see her take a van to the face!"

"You know that ain't gonna do nothing!" Jett whined.

"Got no other choice, you mooks! Hang on tight!"

With the pedal to the metal, the van's chassis rattled. He clamped his hands on the wheel and locked them on course for the damned woman standing in his way. She grew larger in the windshield, rushing towards them faster and faster.

"Eat this, you freak!"

But …

Right before the grille hit her …

Quick as a flash, she shot forward.

Sparks barely followed what happened after that.

Suddenly, the windshield cracked. Like thin ice splintering and plunging him into an arctic lake. Air rushed in, raked his eyeballs. He slitted them, his baffled mind unable to comprehend why a tornado was suddenly going through the van.

Then something streaked past him, lean as a panther. Unleashed a loud growl that sounded like twisting metal. Made the whole van shake violently. His hand groped for the shift out of instinct …

There was no shift.

Only empty air.

Then the passenger seat pulled away from him, and he understood. She cleaved the whole damn van in half! Split it, right down the middle! With a karate chop or something! His side of the van balanced precariously on two wheels, then lost its momentum. The severed edge slammed down on the road and scraped it like nails on a chalkboard. Gravity yanked him down, wanted to smear him on the road. He hugged the wheel tightly. Now it really did feel like a life preserver.

Friction made the half-van twirl to the side. The city spun around him. Pure, blinding panic made him hold onto the wheel, despite the pain in his arms, until the half-vehicle burned off its speed. It stopped with a clunky rattle and then a resounding bang when its weight settled.

Sparks let go of the wheel and flopped to the street. Groaning, he pushed himself to his feet and pulled his pistol out.

Once the noise of the crash died down, the street was deceptively quiet.

The other half had skidded to a halt fifty feet back. Muggsy and Jett crawled out, each toting a duffel bag and an assault rifle.

"Get the rest of the money!"

They ignored him and hustled to his side.

Breathing heavily, the three of them shared looks of terror as they caught their breath.

Distantly, a pair of boots clapped on the street. Moving steadily like a clock ticking down. The freak was coming for them as if she had all the time in the world. And it made Sparks furious. He tightened his grip on the pistol, eager to put a few rounds in her again. See if, this time, he could find the lucky spot that'd put her down for good.

With an ear-splitting metal crumple that made Sparks wince, the wreck skidded to the side.

Revealing her.

She had her leg up, meaning she'd kicked two-and-a-half tons of steel aside like a pebble. She lowered it and planted her boot on the street. Stood up straight, feet apart, hands at her sides. Like a cowboy, about to quickdraw. She grinned at them from fifty feet away. Everything about her posture, about the way she carried her skinny body, radiated power and authority. Like a nuclear warhead, ready to unleash the fury of hell.

"Nuts to this," Sparks shouted. "Let her have it, boys!"

He raised his pistol and started squeezing rounds off. The morons jumped at first, then gathered up what little wits they had, shouldered their rifles, and unleashed hot lead. The guns bucked as flame spat from the barrels. Dozens of bullets streaked through the air, impacting her petite frame, hammering her with the searing kiss of death.

No way anybody can survive this!

They emptied their clips and stared through the smoke.

Morrigan pinched her shirt's hemline and pulled it away from her chest. Examined the bullet holes, deciding whether the damage was suitably punk rock for her tastes. Spent bullets, flattened by her abs of steel, littered the street. She let the hemline go and smiled at the crooks.

"Did you seriously think that would work? As if!"

Barely-contained bloodlust glimmered in her sparkling eyes. They dared the bank robbers to make a move. The raven and the warrior goddess on her arm were hungry for glorious warfare. Sure, the raw power in her body would make quick work of the crooks, but she could play with her food before she gobbled it up.

The crooks shook in their shoes. Getting ready to bolt like frightened horses.

"Whatcha gonna do, huh? I can see the fear in your eyes. You guys wanna make a run for it, dontcha? Huh?"

Her wicked grin deepened.

"Come on, go for it. Let's have some fun!"

Frightened wails escaped their throats. They broke and ran for an alley between two rundown storefronts. Heading for the warren of alleyways behind the buildings. Hoping to lose her. Morrigan watched them go with cold precision. Although they vanished from sight, her super-sensitive ears picked up their panicked breathing and stamping feet.

She counted to ten.

And then, she followed them.

Stalking forward, her boots coming down heavily on the concrete, Morrigan melted into the shadows and became one with the darkness. Her prey was scurrying through the maze of alleyways, and she was going to find them.

The hunt had begun.

Panting from fear and exertion, Sparks barreled down the alleyway. His feet stamped the garbage littering the ground. Each crisp crunch under his soles sounded like a bomb going off. A normal person wouldn't be able to hear it from so far away, but that freak …

Gotta keep running! Sparks thought, wheezing like a chain smoker. Gotta get away!

Ahead of him, Muggsy and Jett sprinted up the alley, through the slanted shadows and splashes of brightness where the city's glow spilled over the rooftops. They hooked around a tight corner, and then took the next left.

We're moving like rats! he thought.

But he was too terrified to slow down and get his bearings.

Next to them now was some kind of warehouse or abandoned factory. Its large broken windows revealed a big, empty room, totally pitch black.

Muggsy and Jett started to flag. Their feet scraped the ground and their sweat-drenched heads sagged. Each stride made their knees give out a little more. They sank toward the ground, wheezing for air.

They went around one more corner for good measure. Then, they collapsed against the warehouse's side, their backs up to the wall.

As he caught his breath, Sparks stared at an old, faded piece of graffiti on the opposite wall. Three 'G's in a row, drawn like those Cool 'S's kids in school doodled on their notebooks.

"Jett, give me a clip," he said.

Shaking like a leaf about to drop, Jett plucked a clip out of his duffel bag and tossed it to Sparks, who caught it, rammed it into his pistol, and pulled the slide back. Then he rested the back of his head on the wall and tried to power through the fog filling his brain. Once his breathing slowed to the point he could hold it without passing out, he sealed his lips and strained his ears to hear if anybody was after them.

Nothing, he thought.

He slid sideways along the wall. Lifted his feet and put them down very carefully so he didn't step on any garbage and give away their position. His clothes scraped along the bricks, which annoyed him, but he couldn't do anything about that. The wall was the only thing keeping him on his feet. He inched up to the edge, leaned sideways, and turned his head just enough that one eye poked out from cover.

I half expect to see a fist coming at me …!

Tensing himself to spring back, he craned his head …

"See anything?!" Jett asked.

Sparks stared extra hard and extra long at the alleyway and all its shadows and nooks, just to be sure. But …

"No, nothing."

He pulled himself back behind cover. His sweaty fingers drummed the pistol's grip. He faced the two mooks, who stared at him like he just got done chatting with God. Jett had book smarts, but no street smarts. Sparks was the only one who could come up with a plan. He had to think of something, had to think of a way out of this …

Hope sparkled in Muggsy's eyes.

"You think we lost her?"

Sparks drew a deep breath and got ready to reassure himself. And, to a lesser extent, Muggsy.

Then the wall next to Muggsy's head exploded. Sparks jumped back as the bricks cracked apart and burst outward like somebody fired a shotgun. The blast sprayed broken chunks all over the opposite wall and filled the air with mortar dust.

Shocked, all the big thoughts hightailed it out of Sparks's mind.

Only a small, quiet voice remained, saying, Hope Mr. G.G.G. don't mind his graffiti got ruined.

Muggsy's dopey mouth opened wide in a shriek. He shoved himself away from the wall, but a slender arm shoved itself through the hole and wrapped itself around his upper chest. It dragged the struggling, two-hundred-and-fifty pound goon backwards like a tiny little cat.

Then the wall on the other side of Muggsy exploded. That freak's head burst through the crumbling brickwork, looking no worse for wear after headbutting her way through the side of a building. The dislodged bricks dangling from the big, ragged hole dropped on her skull and bounced right off.

She didn't even flinch.

Smiling, she asked Muggsy, "What do you think, big boy?"

Muggsy wailed and struggled to get free from her grasp, but she had him pinned in place.

That face, Sparks thought. That face!

Scowling so hard his jaw ached, Sparks raised his pistol and fired at her from two feet away, screaming, "I've had enough of you, freak!" The booming pops and flashes of gunpowder went off right next to Muggsy, who shrieked like a little girl. But all his bullets flattened against her face and bounced off. His ears rang from the gunfire in this narrow little alleyway. He stared at her grinning face through the wisps of smoke dancing off the business end of the gunbarrel. The ringing in his head made the whole world spin round him. Or maybe that was because his knees were shaking so bad.

She didn't even flinch, he thought, dazed.

"My turn," she said calmly.

She let go of Muggsy. He was in the middle of a terrific thrash, and fell like a sack of potatoes. The meaty thud of his big ass hitting the ground echoed around the alleyway. He scrambled to his feet and took off running, with Jett close behind.

The freak who haunted Sparks's nightmares kicked at the bottom of the brick wall. It broke apart and its chunks flew everywhere. Now, she'd made the hole into a makeshift door. She'd torn a person-sized opening into the side of the warehouse as easily as knocking a kid's building blocks over.

Moving at a leisurely pace, she began to step through the hole.

Sparks turned and ran after the others, but he couldn't outrun the terror rising up his throat, squeezing him so tight he could barely breathe. Halfway down the alley, he looked over his shoulder. The freak of a woman was casually dusting herself off. Then, like she could sense him looking at her, she raised her head. Stared at him with that same cruel grin.

Like the Terminator, she powered her legs and began to walk up the alley at a brisk pace. Unhurried, yet unstoppable.

Stop gawking and go!

He faced front and ran full pelt. His shoulders hurt from pumping his arms so hard. His knees hurt from stomping the ground so hard. His head hurt from how intensely it was pounding. His pulse was like a storm inside his skull, beating against the sides of his brain without stopping. Everything hurt so much.

He tore around a corner and spotted Jett and Muggsy. As he forced his sorry carcass to catch up, he tried to convince himself the awful ache in his chest wasn't a heart attack about to strike.

He looked back.

Didn't see her coming around the corner.

There's no way we lost her …

He looked ahead again, forcing his weary body to run a little bit faster—

The wall further down the alleyway exploded. She burst through the hole, her fist leading the way. Muggsy and Jett skidded to a halt and then scurried back towards Sparks, who abruptly trotted backwards.

Now I'm glad I lagged behind!

The freak straightened up, cracked her knuckles, and then began to walk down the alleyway with that same infuriatingly-casual stride. Her marching boots carelessly kicked heavy chunks of brick aside like they were grains of sand.

Sparks did an about-face and hurtled up the alleyway, back the way he'd come from. Muggsy and Jett were right behind him. He was in the lead … but he didn't have a clue what to do. All he could think about was the million little spikes of pain needling his ragged body, and how much worse it'd hurt if that woman got her hands on him.

User	Total
prometheus110	1
Arcus	1
ltmauve	1
Sandy River DL	1
Xanah	1
Balthanon	1
MangoFlan	1
Solarstream	1
Questwolf	1
Obscura	1
PetroleumMedium!	1
SGMargrave	1
grommile	1
all fictions	1
Lunaryon	1
Zedalb	1
10ebbor10	1
Rockeye	1
Laplace	1
Gargulec	1
Omergosh	1
Kryslin	1
Cessali	1
theworkofXFester	1
Talia B	1
naysayernonsense	1
DoobleDeeDooble	1
Solark	1
DeoBonkoSponko	1
fearsome hill	1
Princess Scribe	1
Z_2	1

New Year New Chapter Contest

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Keeper of the not especially sacred texts

Labrador Wrestling Champion

Keeper of the not especially sacred texts

Join Cayman-Global & be part of the 1E-9 percent!

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A Crown of Biosteel​

Chapter 1 - Vestibule to the Next Life​

ABSOLUTE POWER​

A Crown of Biosteel

Chapter 1 - Vestibule to the Next Life

ABSOLUTE POWER