Flower Knights: Hope Lies Past The Horizon

“Enjoying retirement?”

Yellow Rose looked up from her tea and book to see an imposingly tall woman giving her an amicable smile, and not-so-amicably blocking her sun. Blue Daisy was wearing her usual eponymous color scheme, hat and long coat and boots all a match broken only by her impractically long blonde hair. Unlike other Flower Knights, Daisy hadn’t bothered using Color Magic to change her hair to match her theme.

Well, neither did Rose, once her title was nullified. The once-brilliant-blonde had let her hair fade back to it’s natural coppery curls. The better to move on, or so she told herself.

“Not especially,” said the former Captain. She took a sip of her jasmine drink, then set the cup, and her book, down. She motioned to the empty seat next to her. “I’d intended to serve for my natural life span. Instead, I’m forced to quit early. A conqueror doesn’t particularly trust their new territory’s former knights. Fancy that.”

Daisy took the seat, folding herself into the chair. A stone circle with the thinnest of cushions, framed in painted metal, the exceptionally tall woman wondered how anyone could sit comfortably for long enough to read anything. But the fancily decorated tea-house was small to begin with; no doubt the idea was to keep traffic flowing rather than lingering. Good thing she didn’t intend for this to be an overlong meeting.

“What if I told you your early retirement was just a temporary leave?” said Daisy.

Spirits of Civilization - On The Stormy Streets

The group assembled at the intersection of Gravois and Lindbergh, near I-270. It figured that Gravois wasn’t even here, off to meet with Des Peres, much to Lindbergh’s chagrin.
 
Slicking back his hair, Kirkwood gave his usual cocky smirk as he approached the assemblage of his fellow spirits. Lindbergh gave his usual trademark scowl at his “little brother”, which Kirkwood just ignored.
 
It was a bit of a motley crew tonight. Big Bend, the twins Laclede and Hanley, Lindbergh, Kirkwood himself, and to his surprise, Sunset Hills stood among them. The town spirit, standing taller than all of them, looked grim, unusual for his normally high spirits. He kept glancing upwards, to where the dark clouds roiled. Even Kirkwood could admit there was a restless energy in the air, unusual for this time of year. Probably just an early tornado, surely.
 
“Took your time, little brother,” said Lindbergh.
 
“I always arrive when I mean to arrive,” said Kirkwood.
 
“Fashionably late,” quipped Hanley.
 
“Fashionably lame,” quipped Laclede.
 
“Fashionably blamed,” said Hanley.
 
“Fashionably shamed,” said Laclede.
 
“Yes, yes,” Kirkwood waved them off. If he didn’t nip the twins in the bud, they’d be going all night. “So what are we looking at at?”
 
“We think it’s a hurricane,” said Sunset Hills. He looked off into the distance somberly.

Sustra and the Glimpse of Dangling Wires

“Whoever invented Fall deserves to be shot!” proclaimed Dogoro, attempting to spit another errant bit of floral debris out of his face. Being merely a hat, he found the task difficult. However, his dutiful sacrifice at least spared his wearer the inconvenience of tumbling leaves and falling tree nuts smacking into her face.

Sustra said nothing, continuing down the forest path. She rather liked the scenic view of acres of trees splashing autumn colors over the rolling hills.

“Our next mission will be to find the God of Fall, and string her up by her ankles! Try Falling then, you harvest-haired trollop!”

Sustra glanced up at the vocal cloth adorning her head. “Your puns are slacking again.”

Dogoro scoffed. “You’re give me nothing to work with, damn you! Must you always be so silent? This is why everyone says you have no personality!”

Pretend

Ryoko sat calmly, listening to the rhythmic, muffled clack of the rails. Her eyes skimmed across the page of her book, but she had more attention on the peripherals of her vision than the words on the page. She took note as a man with a blue longcoat and black hair entered the car. She glanced up as he passed, noting the grey hue of his eyes, and the light stride of his walk, despite his height.

He wasn’t the oddest person to enter the car, but the way he scanned the room and paused for a moment to think of his choice of seat stood out to her. She was mildly surprised when he sat down on the same bench as her, just within arms reach. She kept “reading” her book, turning the page despite failing to remember half the words she’d seen on the previous one. It was one of those nostalgic romance novels, set in the time before the world went away. She wasn’t really a fan of them, but it had been the only choices on the spin rack at the station. This one, at least, had a shirtless hunk on the cover to appreciate.

“Long trip, this.” The man in blue leaned back, crossed one leg at the knee, and draped his arms on the back of the bench, till his hand was almost touching her shoulder.

Rust City, a One-Page RPG

A post-apocalyptic setting where humanity burned itself to ashes with nuclear fire centuries ago. Most of the world has been scorched of life, and the oceans rendered nearly barren, leaving only small pockets of habitable zones left for the remaining species of earth.

The year, if the human calendar had kept going, is 3576 A.D. The nuclear fallout has wreaked havoc upon the environment, but life, as ever, finds ways to adapt. The heartiest of species survived, and the radioactivity pushed evolution into unexpected paths, perhaps aided as well by the remnants of humanity’s last biological experimentation. Now, four species vie for control over the last sustainable regions: the Kokrouch, the Pejin, and the Rhat tribes have only recently called a tenuous ceasefire as they are beset by a recently encountered species: the Auktoupous. These amphibious horrors crawl from the ocean depths to claim the resources of the land and drag them back into the briny deep.

The elders of each tribe have opted to send some of their champions to quest once more through the ancient ruins of the lost Homahn civilization. The nearest city, infested with terrible beasts and defective automatons, is said to still hold secrets not yet plumbed by earlier explorers. An expedition has been sent to retrieve something, anything, that can halt the threat of the Auktoupous race.

Welcome to Rust City. Try to survive, and don’t you dare leave empty-handed.

CHARACTER SHEET

Might –

Athletics –

Wits –

Spirit –

-

Health –

Magic –

Movement –

Combat –

-

Race:

Class:

Skills:

INITIAL POINTS

You start with 12 points to distribute across your four Basic Stats. Each stat begins with 2 points before point distribution, and all stats cap at 10.

Next, determine your Derived Stats:

Health – (Might + Spirit) x 5

Magic – (Wits + Spirit) x 5

Movement – 1 + Athletics

Combat – 12 – [(Might + Wits + Athletics) ÷ 3, rounded up]

Next, choose your Race, Profession, and Mutation.

CHOOSE A RACE

You may pick one of three races. Picking a race nets you a starting stat bonus, and a racial ability.

RHAT – Intelligent rats, you begin with a +1 in Wits, Might, and Athletics.

https://cdnb.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/000/730/847/large/andrey-seleznev-rat-soldier-by-dron111-d4fahz5.jpg?1431706078

KOKROUCH – Intelligent, bipedal cockroaches, you begin with a +1 in Might and an extra 20 HP.

https://i.pinimg.com/736x/1b/c4/2c/1bc42cbecae45d8ea57f702b999bdb83--fantasy-monster-monster-art.jpg

PEJIN – Intelligent pigeons, you begin with a +1 in Athletics and the ability to Fly for short bursts.

https://78.media.tumblr.com/7fc982290bab416115c1cbc422fd610b/tumblr_out8vasVsK1vs633po1_500.png

CHOOSE A PROFESSION

You may pick one of five Classes. These determine your starting equipment and grant your class-specific special abilities.

COMMANDO – You are a gifted soldier. You start with a needle-shot rifle that has 30 shots (15 damage, 10 range) and a knife (5 damage, 1 range melee, 3 range thrown). You suffer no penalties when performing Ranged Attacks and the CR of your opponent raises by 2 in melee.

TRAPPER – You are a master of traps. You start with a set of caltrops, a 10’ twine rope and grappling hook, and 2 smoke bombs. You gain a +2 to any attempt to notice and disarm traps or dangerous terrain (Wits).

CHEMIST – You know how to mix chemicals for both healing and destructive effects. You begin with a medical spray with 20 shots (neutralizes poisons and recovers 10 health) and 3 nitroglycerin capsules (15 damage, 3 range thrown, 1 range spread) which function as grenades. You gain a +2 on any attempt to identify strange chemicals.

SCANNER – You are skilled in figuring out the functions of old technology and identifying functioning equipment in the wreckage. You have a knife (5 damage, 1 range melee, 3 range thrown), a spike-ball slingshot with 10 shots (7 damage, 5 range), and a hand-held metal detector.

CHOOSE A MUTATION

RADIANT – You possess the freakish ability to channel the radioactive energy that permeates the land into beams of destructive force. You can fire a beam of energy from your hands or eyes up to 20 times a day. 25 damage, 6 range.

PLANTKIN – You possess the freakish ability to influence the growth of plants via radiation influxes. This enables you to create tangler traps that ensnare enemies or create vines that be used to assist in climbing, up to 20 times a day.

VISIONARY – You possess the freakish ability to see beyond the normal visible spectrum. You can see to a limited capacity in total darkness and see the aura’s of living beings through walls in a manner similar to thermographic vision, as long there is not too much material between you. You can shift your vision to this at any time, but this causes your other senses to dull and gives you a headache which can prove prohibitively distracting in some situations.

SAVAGER – You possess the freakish ability to achieve a monstrous form. In this form, you can double your HP and Might for up to ten rounds. You can only do this 5 times per day, and when you shift back, your HP is halved from the transformed stat.

OBSTACLES

Obstacles will revolve around traversing the broken city’s dangerous landscape, attempting to break into sealed areas, and battling wild animals and dangerous machines. You may also encounter some of the dreaded Auktoupous.

The Wyld Hunt

The Wyld Hunt was one of many post-Old Multiverse series concepts that sort of uniquely evolved through the background of several other setting and series concepts. Many of these characters were either background characters in the supernatural side of various hero settings, or were intended to be the "magic-themed" members of various teams. At some point, they just sort of developed their own continuity independent of whatever other hero stuff was going on, and I realized that didn't really fit in a standard superhero universe.

Ergo, this sort of became my first dedicated urban fantasy/modern fantasy type world, with no connection to a superhero universe proper. Although, rechecking these notes, I see that I still had them be tangentially related to an version of Tabitha Cain universe, which sort of still fits, given that at the time , given there were a couple figures in the Wyld Hunt lore that were part of the Tabitha Cain stories at the time. Eventually, however, I realized I didn't actually want to write a bunch of tedious "monster of the week" short stories, so, like most of my series concepts, this never really got off the ground.

I did, however, use several of these characters in co-writes and forum RPGs, so I can at least say some of these guys got some actual mileage in the written word, unlike a lot of characters I made concepts for, but ended up never using.


BACKSTORY

In the two thousand years since Tabitha Cain forced the Elder Gods to remove much of their influence, as well as most of their creations, from Earth, humanity has moved on. Technology brought power to the masses and the horrible creatures of the night were driven back by increasingly deadlier weapons.  Magic was left behind due its difficult and often impractical learning curve. By the time the later 1800s rolled around, the only authentic practitioners of magic were those who were innately born with magical talent or empowered by accident, and monsters had become virtually extinct. Humanity was on the fast track to a bright future ahead of them, with science as their new beacon. Soon enough, by the mid 1900s, people practically dismissed the supernatural as little more than an archaic notion.

This, however, suited the monsters and mages of the world just fine. Humanity was letting its guard down. Their technology was making them soft and lazy, easy pickings. And though they spread like wildfire across the world, there were always nooks and crannies in which the predatory forces of the supernatural could hide. Some simply tucked themselves away in dark allies and sewers or in the increasingly shrinking wilds. Others insinuated themselves into human society, hiding in plain site.

Thankfully, those with ill intent were not the only ones who retained their supernatural power. Over the decades, empowered champions and defenders rise to protect humanity from the shadows they have forgotten to fear.

Toyah

A Mystic Missouri story.

1.1

In the midst of a smashed-flat neighborhood, surrounded the splintered and shattered homes, Toyah hunted for treasure. The little blonde-haired girl in a dirt-brown tunic slowly picked her way down the street. As she shuffled, slid, and skipped around the twisted wrecks of cars and trucks, climbed and jumped over fallen trees, she would occasionally pause and peer at her surroundings. On her shoulder, a small plastic and tin owl likewise swiveled its head, the tiny red beads set in its wide eyes sparking. Despite several stops, neither seemed to find anything interesting. Not until they were three blocks deep into the street did the owl make a fluttering of its plastic wings. The limited movement allowed by the simple hinge was useless for any sort of flight, even if it had been made from the right materials, but its rapid clicking alerted the girl that it had seen something. When she looked at it, the owl turned its tin head so that it’s beak pointed directly at a house three more plots down. The girl hurried over, scrambling over a crumbled brick half-wall, its metal grating lying in a tangled mess among the debris of the neighboring home.

Toyah appraised the building as she approached. Stopping a few feet from where several jagged spears of snapped frame stuck out from a heavy slab of concrete, it was clear there would be no climbing inside herself. She crouched down, noting that the slab and wooden frame slats hung over the ground by about half a foot, cloaking in shadow a broken, ground-level window that no doubt led into the basement. Toyah stood back up and opened the leather satchel she’d been lugging with her. Her fingers touched an object of polished wood, and she pulled out a wooden doll painted like a nutcracker soldier.

Toyah set the little wooden soldier down upon the grass. The red and blue and tan facsimile of a man wobbled for a moment, then righted itself. Its tiny, simple hinges squeaked a bit from long disuse. The young girl pointed forward, towards the massive pile of destroyed wood, brick, and metal. Taking a moment to make sure it had oriented itself, the little toy soldier waddled forward. Its legs were jointed only at the hips, forcing it to walk in a stilted shuffle, especially over the grass. Toyah frowned. This wouldn’t do at all. She picked it back up and inspected the legs. The whole toy was about eight inches tall, as long as her forearm, and the legs were wooden posts twice as thick as her finger. She concentrated for a moment, and the toy vibrated for a few seconds. Then, it went “limp.” The stiff material couldn’t sag, as such, but it’s limbs, which had been resolutely held forward, now dangled towards the ground, as the head turned slightly to the side as if at rest.

Tabitha's Defiance

Webfic Writing Challenge: Write a story using only dialogue, 1000 word limit.

===========================

“Tabitha.”

“Lord Luc.”

“Why are you here?”

“Is it true? All this is just a game? This whole war, these witch hunts, the Final Day? Is it just a game to all of you?”

“…”

“Well?!”

“Tabitha, do you know what eternity is like?”

“What? What does—?”

“It’s agony. The agony of endless ennui. We’ve existed for so long, infinity doesn’t even seem a fitting descriptor. Much of that time, we were insane. There was only us, and the prison that is our universe. It was only when we discovered the means to bend our universe to our whim, that we finally saw the salvation to our pain. For eons, we toyed with the fundement of our prison, until one of us, none remember who, learned how to make worlds. But even that grew dull after a time. It was not until another one of us discovered how to make life, that things finally became truly interesting.”

“So it is all a game. Just entertainment.”

“Yes. And this calamity you wish to stop. The end of the world. It’s just our way of wiping the slate clean, and starting over. All of us gods, we’ll switch roles around. I look forward to playing one of the Tricksters next time. Being the Lord of Justice gets dull after a while.”

“Fifty years. Fifty years, I dedicated to you, Luc. Fifty years I fought against the forces of Savic, believing he was the ultimate evil of the world. But it’s all of you. Millions of people suffering and dying with your names on their lips, and you both, you all, don’t even give it a second thought do you? You’re all just acting. All of us in the world, we’re just your props.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t… I mean you… you create us… you raise us… you develop our worlds… don’t you care? Even a little damned bit?”

“If we didn’t, we wouldn’t do it at all. We’d be making something else. But no game has thrilled us more so than this little role play we’ve devised. Alas no session can last indefinitely, or the boredom eventually sets in again. That’s the worst part of it. No matter how wonderful a creation we make, even something that may enthrall us for a billion eons, it all eventually goes to rust, even our love for it. Nothing, it seems, is truly eternal. Nothing but us, and the horror of infinity ever clawing at the edges of our sanity.”

“…”

“Tabitha, do you understand?”

“How many know?”

“Once every few Cycles one of you finds out. Sometimes they sympathize and accept the inevitable, as we do. Some, however, seek to defy it. But they cannot do what we ourselves are incapable of. Even our greatest creation has never been able to exceed us, and free us from our prison of existence and need.”

“I see.”

“So what will you do, Tabitha? Will you accept your role, as I have accepted mine? Or will you try to do the impossible?”

“…”

“Well?”

“…”

“What’s that you have there, child?”

“You say this universe is your prison. So you’ve never been able to leave?”

“No. We would have, if we could.”

“And nothing has ever come into the universe, from the outside?”

“The many dimensions and planes you know of are our creation. Our definition of ‘universe’ is broader than your own perception.”

“I know what you define as the universe. I’m asking you, have you ever encountered something from outside it?”

“No. What are you getting at child?”

“Do you know what this thing in my hand is?”

“No.”

“You don’t recognize it at all? You can’t just tell, with all your divine intuition?”

“I… cannot… What is that thing?”

“I think, my former Lord, that I know what choice to make.”

“What are you—hrk!”

“I’m going to break your Cycle.”

“I--! What is--what is this--?”

“Eternity’s end.”

“Impossible! Impossi…hck… ch-child… this won’t… stop anything… the Final Day is coming… all you’re… going to do… is prevent the world… from being reborn… hhhhhhh…”

“…”

“…”

“…I know.”

Sustra and the Machine

For several days, Sustra had trekked through the desert, a seemingly endless stretch of light brown sand visible for miles in every direction. Her red cloak and black and white hair stirred in the breeze. The only sound she made was the soft swish of sand beneath her boots, and the occasional pat of her pack and weapons as she dropped down or jumped up on the uneven ground. Overhead, the sky had thankfully dimmed from a gathering of grey clouds. However, no rain fell. Instead, warm air shifted sand to and fro, as if not quite decided whether to create a storm or not.

Sustra hoped for the latter. There was no telling how close she was to her goal. The map was all but useless in the vast expanse of this desert. There were no landmarks, not even any animals or plants to at least indicate she was getting close to something. In the days she had walked, she had not seen so much as a single oasis.

Her journey came to a brief halt as she scaled another dune, only to find the other side ended in s steep drop off. A great crater, perhaps half a mile wide, stretched out before her. In its center was a single structure. Sustra approached it slowly, sliding down the sandy crater side until she reached the relatively flat bottom.

The structure was an old building of brick, collapsed into itself from who knew how many years of neglect. Through the gaps, she could see glints of sand-scoured metal, half-melted or torn, the remnants of some great machine. Most of the structure was buried in sand, and even the exposed parts were caked in piles of it. Perhaps the structure had once been fully buried, and the winds recently uncovered it. There was no telling how tall the building had once been, but the ruins were wide enough to hold hundreds of people.

Sustra circled the structure slowly, looking for any sign of recent use. From the look of things, no one had touched it in years. She gave it one final glance over, frowning, wondering what it might have been. Then, she turned to continue her journey.

A moment later, however, the ground beneath her suddenly shook. Nimble as she was, she managed to leap and run while avoiding spilling face first on the ground. Fearing that the building behind her might be caving in, she dashed hastily for the crater’s edge without looking back. Only when she reached it, did the shaking stop, and she realized the ground wasn’t sliding out from beneath her.

She then saw the ground darken around her, as something cast a great shadow, even in washed out light of the overcast sky. Sustra whirled and her eyes widened as she saw a great form rising from the center of the crater. Where once had stood the ruins of the building, there now kneeled, on hands and knees, an enormous humanoid machine. A great robot made of rusted, scorched, and bent metal, dropping wires and cords, packed earth and chunks of glass embedded in its frame. The pieces of brick and chunks of metal from the former building rolling off its back. The creature was the size of a whale, at least a hundred feet long and two dozen tall, even kneeling. A great cylindrical head, bedecked with six circular pits, was the size of Sustra herself. Though it bore no facial features, one of the pits was covered in a red lens, which glowed dully.

Beneath her cloak, Sustra’s hands were already gripping her shotgun and rapier. But she paused before drawing them. The great, decayed robot stared down at her, looming over her, but it did not move. Sustra and the machine stared at one another for several long seconds. Then, the machine made a sound.

A deep bass tone emanated from it, causing it’s looser parts to rattle, and Sustra to wince slightly. The sound seemed to come more from it’s chest than it’s head. As the tone sounded, the single remaining lens on it’s “face” flared a bit brighter. The entity paused for a moment, and then sounded again, this time modifying the tone several times. There was an almost musical quality to it.

Sustra let go of her weapons, and instead slowly reached behind her back and pulled out her electric guitar. She made a single strum on the strings. The robot’s eye  flickered, and one of it’s empty sockets sparked. It made another sound, a high whistle. Sustra replied with a high note on her instrument.

The robot made several light notes in a steady beat, then uttered a song, deep electronic tones. Sustra lightly played her guitar, matching the tune for a moment, before adding a chord of her own. For a moment, traveler and machine were synched in melody.

Then the machine shifted its head in what could have been a nod, and went silent. Sustra ceased her playing. As she watched, the light in the robot’s eye faded, and it sank towards the ground, folding into itself and half digging into the sand. As it did, a slight gust went through the crater, and the grey clouds finally set loose their bounty. Light rain pattered around her. She turned her face to the sky, removing her wide brimmed, pointed hat and opened her mouth to taste the drops.

Then she climbed the edge of the crater, and continued on her way.

A Little Trip

Webfic Writing Challenge: Write a story involving a person with a disability, 2000 word limit.

=================================

With a solid kick, Jast dislodged the door of the all-terrain, six-wheeler truck, sending it flying a few dozen feet away. Getting a good foothold on the edge of the door frame, he leaped away from the toppled vehicle, his prodigious strength sending him arcing through the air. Twins hunks of metal and wire trailed off his shoulders, throwing off his weight more than he expected. He tried to land on his feet, but his trajectory was already spinning at an awkward angle. Only a quick curling of his torso allowed him to avoid face planting into the ground. Instead, he used his momentum to hit the ground in a roll, somersaulting twice, then thrust himself onto his feet. His landing left a bare streak in the thin layer of mud that caked the ground, leaving some plastered on his back.

After he’d steadied himself, he looked at his trashed vehicle, now about thirty feet away. He looked up to see the rugged cliffs on either side of him; the narrow gorge he’d fallen in was at least a hundred feet deep. The bright noon sun was just overhead, illuminating the dull tan and grey layers of the rock, and the dark brown mud of the gorge’s bottom. It wouldn’t be long before the sun moved on, leaving the gorge in deep shadow.

As Jast’s his eyes trailed down the rock wall and back to the truck, he noted that around the six-wheeler, several large chunks of logs had all but shattered upon impact with the ground around the vehicle. He sighed. What had appeared to be a solid natural bridge, over grown and half-covered in earth, had in fact been a log bridge so old and rotten, he doubted it would have held half the weight of his vehicle.

He glanced to either side of himself. He was more or less okay; his natural body was superhumanly strong and durable. He could have dropped down from the cliff and landed on his feet without a problem, but being thrown around the truck as it banged off the sides of the cliff had sent him spinning. While it hadn’t done much to hurt him, the experience had once again proven that his robotic arms were less durable than he was. They hung limply at his sides, the left arm dangling only by some cords, the right noticeably bent, the delicate gears and pistons crushed out of alignment. Don’t let the comics fool you; cyborg tech had nothing on good old fashioned invulnerability.

Having arms was useful, though. It meant not always having to use his feet as exceptionally clumsy hands. They would have been great for helping him scale the sides of the gorge. He glanced back and forth, looking for the shortest distance between the two rock walls. He noticed a spot that seemed a bit narrower than the rest, where only fifty feet separated them.

He glanced at his right arm. It was still powered, even though it refused to move; the com-link built into the forearm should still be working. He knelt down, positioning the limp prosthetic along his right knee. He pushed his nose against the small panel and nudged it up, then bumped a small button beneath.

Static sounded from the tiny speaker next to the button. Jast scowled. Shaking his head, he stood up and went to the truck, stopping at the windshield. He looked inside until he spotted a piece of bright red just behind the seat. Lacking a more graceful option, he kicked the windshield solidly, shattering it. He swept the crumbling glass away with his foot. Kneeling down, he waddled into the truck’s cabin, leaned down, and used his teeth to grip the red cloth. A solid yank pulled his travel pack free.

Shuffling back out of the truck, he spent another half a minute wriggling his right arm through the straps, then tying it securely to that side. Then, he returned to the narrower part of the gorge. He stood at one end, took a breath, then dashed to the other wall. About halfway into his run, he leaped as high as he could.

He managed a good twenty-five feet high, and his boots planted solidly against the wall. Unfortunately, its rough surface, the mud on his shoes, and the lopsided weight of the pack made him slip as he tried to push off. He tumbled to the ground, belly-flopping onto the thin layer of mud over hard earth. Invulnerable or not, the force of the blow knocked the wind out of him.

After several agonizing moments of breathlessness, he managed to gasp and cough some air in and out of his lungs, until he could breathe normally again. Rolling onto his feet once more, he was now utterly drenched in the dark mud. Sighing in frustration, he took a moment to collect himself, then tried again.

After the third failed attempt, he had the idea to kick his boots off, hoping that he could use his toes for an extra grip, When that didn’t quite work out, he used his feet to scrape a line of the ground free of the thin mud, then scraped the soles clean on the rock face before trying once more. Even then, his strongest kicks landed him well below the apex of his leap.

By the time he finally landed on the grassy top of the gorge, the shadows had already swallowed its bottom. Jast lay on the ground, breathing heavily. He wished his strength was as considerable as his durability. Then maybe he could have just leaped over the whole damn thing. With a small huff, he rolled onto his feet again. Glancing around, he assessed his location, and let out an irritated groan as he saw he was back on the side of the gorge he’d started at.

Well, at least now his com-link worked. Taking a seat beneath a nearby tree, he made the call to headquarters, and waited.

Tabitha Monki vs Marcus

"What are you saying?  That you don't care anymore?!  It can't be that simple!"  Tabitha couldn't hold back the tears.  Marcus simply looked at her indifferently.

"I had thought, for a time, that I could regain what I lost," he said.  "Regain my nobility.  Regain my purpose.  But I guess all it was delusion.  I let my love for you blind me to the fact that nothing really changed."

Tabitha forced back her tears.  "So... what?  Now you don't love me anymore, and you've given up?  Is that all I've been to you?  A distraction?"

Marcus shrugged.  "Call it what you will.  Distraction... a fling... maybe it was just one of those flashpan romances."

"So what will you do now?" said Tabitha.

"Whatever I want," he said.  "I no longer care about this world... but then, I'm not ready to just go back to sleep."  He smirked, turning to Tabitha.  "Maybe I'll treat myself to a bit of conquest.  These people really could use a strong, guiding hand, don't you think?"

Tabitha's gaze hardened.  Her sword materiallized in her hand.  "Do anything to this world, and I will stop you.  I don't care who you are... I haven't given up on them."

Marcus smirked.  "I know," he said, snapping his fingers.  Tabitha cursed as a pillar of fire erupted beneath her, searing away her skin almost faster than it could regenerate.  By the time to spell ended, and she got to her feet, Marcus was already beyond her reach, his emerald draconic form racing off beyond the horizon.

Sighing shakily, Tabitha sank to the ground, tears flowing again.  She was supposed to be the Defender of the Earth; why couldn't she have seen this coming?  She pulled her hand away and looked at her tear-stained glove.  It had been centuries since she had cried, centuries since she had gotten close enough to someone to let them hurt her that badly.

Standing, she composed herself.  Things would be harder now.  She was on her own.  But as ever, forever, she still had her mission.  She turned and trudged back to the airship.

"Hey!  Earth to Tabby!  Hello! ... If the Captain does not respond by the count of ten, I am going to walk over there and pants her.  One... two..."

Tabby casually snagged Monki's hand just as the fingers touched her belt and judo flipped the girl halfway across the deck of the airship without so much as turning around.

"About time I got your attention," said Monki, rebounding off the deck and leaping back towards the helm, perching on the railing just infront of Tabitha.  "What's up?  You thinking about some hot guy?"

Tabitha Cain frees Monki

At the end of the small cave, she saw a series of metal bars. Behind them, a tiny cell, housing what looked like little more than a set of rags hanging off some chains. Tabitha stepped closer, and it took a moment for her eyes to recognize the form of a girl within the cell. She was tiny, if Tabitha had to guess, barely four feet tall, and thin as a broomstick. The rags hung loose and filthy over her form, and the chains, though not particularly large, seemed oversized for her body.

Looks were deceiving, of course. The creature before her appeared as a girl of oriental decent, almond-shaped eyes, dark brown hair, olive skin. But there was so much more to her. Tabitha could tell just from the sheer aura of power she sensed emanating from her.

“Greetings, little one,” said Tabitha.

There was no response. The girl kneeled in her tiny cell, wrists chained to the rock wall behind her by rusted shackles. They appear as mere iron, but Tabitha sensed them hum with a mystic force. The girl hung limply in her bonds. The shackles also chained her legs which were folded haphazardly beneath her. And lying across her lap was a long, furry tail, like that of a monkey, the end of which was likewise shackled.

“Are you the one called Monki?”

MothFlip, a hastily slapped together PC-RPG

Would you believe I also make video games? Well, I did that one time, anyway! Here's a little JRPG I made using RPG Maker VX Ace, about an alien (Moth) crashing on a planet and having to collect the parts of his ship from the minions of an evil wizard. Along the way, he joins forces with a magical swordsman (Flip).

This is thus far my only video game project, and it ended up being a one-and-done situation. For whatever reason, once I put this game together, I guess the itch was scratched, and I've just never dipped back into the well. Maybe I'll give it a swing again in the future, but I guess as much as I like video games, I just don't really have the design since for them.

Anyway, this game isn't especially difficult (there's even a level up cheat you can exploit if you just want to rush through it), but hopefully it will be entertaining, regardless. If you don't use the level up cheat, and fight every monster and do everything, the game should take only about an hour to an hour-and-a-half to get through. With the cheat, and ignoring non-boss monsters, you can probably do it in 15 minutes. As with any good RPG, a little exploration is needed to find everything.

The game also lacks music, since I didn't like my available options, and this was just a test run anyway. The sounds of the game are still present, though, so careful on the volume. I did do a couple of original sprites, namely Moth, Flip, Moth's portrait, and the space ship. Otherwise, everything else is entirely assets from the Maker.

EDIT: You can now download the game, or watch a comment-less playthrough video if you don't feel like playing (might want to lower your volume for the sound effects) from my google drive: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1_rRZMlbJABj2i0VNUASQ1AHKolQETpCq?usp=sharing

Dream Wars #01

Just don’t look in its eyes.  You’ll go mad if you look into its eyes.

Jason swallowed hard as he looked upon the shadowy figure below.  It was hard to make out, actually, despite the fact that it’s shadowy form contrasted sharply with the pale concrete below.  Its edges were blurry and the whole thing seemed to ripple as it moved, making it hard to look at.  It had limbs, that much he could see.  But whether it was bipedal or walked on all… however many legs it had, he couldn’t really tell.  From the darkness, two pale yellow dots glowed in a bulge he presumed to be its head.  These orbs whipped to and fro, quickly searching for something.  Jason knew that looking into its eyes wouldn’t actually cause him to go insane… but to lock eyes with a creature like this gave him a sense of horror, a feeling that made his gut drop through the ground and his skin break out in sweat.  He tried not focus on its eyes.  This, of course, was nearly impossible, as its eyes were the only distinct feature on its body; when you looked at it, you couldn’t help but focus on its eyes.

So, rather than look at the creature, Jason took a quick look at his surroundings.  A moment ago, he had been looking over the edge of a rocky cliff, watching the creature wade through a sea of tall green prairie grass.  But the scenery had shifted suddenly.  The drastic, but always spotaneous change of setting was still a bit unsettling to Jason, now that he was aware of it.  It was true, what his new teammates said.  Being an Enlightened Dreamer didn’t make dreams easier to understand; it only mde you more aware of how surreal they were.

Now the area looked like an old rural town, with houses covered in wooden shingles, and roofs made of thatched straw.  The streets were a smooth, pale concrete, though.   The sky was a pale blue; there was no sun, and yet the area was lit up like day.  The alleys were still shaded, but this was mainly indicated by the fact that everything in an alley seemed to be colored darker than everything that was in the open.  It gave the illusion of shading, despite the fact that the light shown equally on everything.

In the streets, in an open area that looked like the town square, people flitted to and fro.  Many were fuzzy and indistinct.  Many hardly had any features at all, but, unlike the creature he was pursuing, Jason could tell they were supposed to be human.  In some cases, the people had distinct faces or clothing if nothing else.  Jason didn’t recognize anyone, but that hardly surprised him.  This wasn’t his dream after all.

Runan and the Glass Desert

The desert’s pure white sands glinted harshly in the sun, the light broken only by the shadows of the occasional large rock or high dune.  As the sun continued its assent into the sky, however, these shadows were providing less and less relief.  The place reminded the traveler rather strongly of his old home, when one strayed too far from the shore; merely trade the sand and rocks for snow and ice, and the effect would be the same: endless white stretching to the horizon, where it met the endless blue.

The small figure, dressed in a ragged white traveler’s cloak, was beginning to consider stopping for the day.  He had already trudged a fair distance across the desert’s length and despite his uncanny resilience, the heat was beginning to take its toll.  It was a day’s travel since the last oasis, and he was beginning to get thirsty; already, his canteen was dangerously low.  Sheathing his short, wooden katana in the rope that served as a makeshift belt, the traveler unscrewed the cap off his canteen with the dexterous tip of his fin, and slipped his beak into the container.  He managed to sip a mouthful of water, and when he was done, only a few drops remained.  The figure contemplated that it might have been smarter to bring a larger vessel for water, but then, there was only so much he could carry.  It was difficult enough waddling across sand with just his sword, the cloak, and the canteen; overburdening himself with a pack would have made travel more difficult for himself.  Besides, hauling packs was mule’s work.  Emperor penguins were not built for such tasks.  And if worse came to worse, he could always attempt to divine a water source and summon a spring.  Assuming there any to be found in this Godforsaken place.

The penguin marched on, unsheathing his sword, and using it as a walking stick.  As he stepped forward, he suddenly sensed a shifting beneath his feet.  The penguin flipped back in a leap which carried him a dozen yards away, flipping his sword into a defensive stance, his cloak tossed to the side.  Before him, an enormous red form exploded from the sand, hissing and clattering as it rose from its hiding place.  The form of a dire scorpion, large as an elephant and red as blood, loomed over the small swordsman.