Kikuyu_Black_Paws

ANNOUNCEMENT ANNOUNCEMENT ANNOUNCEMENT!!!!! Due to the way the Quill Quest is going, we decided we probably picked the wrong word in describing it as an OPEN RP. What is that anyway? Either way, when posting please keep to your own personal character. We don't want tension due to misrepresentation. Small interactions between your character and another in your post are fine, like conversations or a small duel, for example. Other than that, feel free to have the story bend and twist through all of your posts. I can't wait to see how this works out. *small voice from dego in the background * "sorry!!" Thank you very much and have at it, Pennites!!!!! Kiku

Kikuyu stared blankly out of the window of the Library, her eyes misted as she stared at other places, perhaps another world. Wyvern and some other Elders and pennites sat around her, watching her concernedly. Other than Wyvern, who had not left her side since the rain, Kikuyu had not looked at the others. She wasn't quite sure who they were; each face looked blurred and unfamiliar. "Is she going to be alright?" "Letssss sssee if we can get her to talk..." "Do we have any, like, tea?" "Chocolate?! Chocolate makes everything better..." *squeak squeak squeak* "What's this about a necromancer? Where's Degorram?" Kikuyu gave a small start as if someone had touched her. She looked around at the circle of pennites, all gone still at her movement. Her glassy eyes slid from face to face, hardly registering at all, until they touched upon a miniature tree potted in the corner. The ninja got to her feet and touched a leaf, her mouth moving silently before she swallowed. "It was just like this..." she whispered. "Huge, and filled with rooms. There were wind chimes in every branch...and the foxes could get to my bed at night and talk." A bitter smile twisted across her lips and she turned away. "But it's gone now. And he'll come here and do the same-- destroy everything and everyone." "Surely it's not as bad as it's looking," a voice from the back said reassuringly. "It's just the weather, and when we find Degorram..." Kikuyu turned slowly, the black teardrops on her cheeks standing out against her white skin. For a moment the fickle green in her eyes stood out sharply and the tattooed lines under her lids zipped from purple to black and back again. "First," she whispered, "he'll take our eyes, and make them into his pets. Then he'll either infest the place with his undead or he'll blow it up, or turn it over to Death. We either leave or we fight. If that isn't bad, then I don't know what is. And as for Dego...." pain lanced across Kikuyu's brow. "As for Dego, I don't know where she is." She rubbed her chest. "I can't feel her." "Ssso we're split," Wyvern sighed. "Earlier you ssssaid ssshe'd ssssensssed him...doesss that mean sssshe'sss gone after him?" Kikuyu hugged herself and turned away. "I don't know," she said flatly. Someone at the back stood up, their eyes narrowed. "Find out," they said coldly. "Your attitude isn't getting us anywhere, especially in our time of need. This isn't the Kikuyu I know. The Kikuyu I know isn't a defeatest quitter who hides away from trouble." Kikuyu turned, her cheeks flushed with anger, her eyes glittering nastily, to confront the speaker, but she stopped short, her mouth slightly open. Respect, anger, and something else caused her tattoos to flicker brilliantly, and she bowed her head. "What should we do?" she begged the admonisher. "What should I do?"

Degorram sat low in the chair she had placed in front of her window, twiddling her thumbs absently as she pierced the night with a bright red glare. She had let her hair grow out a little in the back so that the still uneven locks fell to her shoulders and the bangs hung across her eyes. Through the strands that painted black lines across her vision she watched the moon rise. She shifted a little and lifted her hands, clasping them and resting her thumbs against her mouth. The moonlight breached the tower that held her room and shafts of the white-blue light filtered through her window, sending glares of light traveling up her leather clothing. The only sound that echoed off her walls was a deadly tapping of her foot. If anyone had looked in, they wouldn't have been able to guess what she was looking at with such venom in her eyes. Not that venom was an unnatural thing to be occupying her features at this time of night. But that, too, was a mystery that very few had been privileged to know. There was a knock at the door. Degorram promptly ignored it. After a moment of silence the door creaked open and another clad in leather entered the room. Kikuyu walked up to stand by Degorram's side, staring into the night with her. For a long time neither spoke. "You can't keep spending your evenings like this," Kikuyu said softly. Degorram didn't answer. The tapping of her foot continued to serve as the only outlet to her subdued rage. "You're not going to get revenge by killing the moon." Degorram's knuckles cracked as she clenched her hands tighter. The blood-red almond eyes sparked. A translucent black smoke peeled off her skin and waved around her like flames. "Stop," Kikuyu demanded sharply. Suddenly, but still silent, Degorram launched from the chair and walked over to the window, trailing the barely existent smoke. She shoved her hands in her pockets and leaned against the window sill, pressing her forehead to the cold glass. "A necromancer," she finally said, her voice trembling with rage. "Why didn't we fight back against a measly necromancer?" "You felt his power," Kikuyu said, the sharpness in her voice replaced with calm. "You already know the answer to that." Degorram did not answer. The smoke continued to shroud her. "Come on," Kikuyu said. "Let's go for a walk." She turned halfway to the door, still watching her sister. Degorram did not turn to look back. Pressing harder into the glass she slid through it. "I prefer to fly," she said as she dropped into the night. **** "She thinks she could have beaten him," Kikuyu said, stirring her tea absently and staring at the table that separated her and Wyvern. "Or at least she wishes she could have beaten him. Losing is humiliating as it is, but surrender is unforgivable in her eyes. We've never abandoned a fight without trying before." Wyvern nodded, a frown upon his scaly brow. "I can undersssstand that. How long do you think ssshe'll hold onto thisss?" Kikuyu sighed put her tea down. "Perhaps forever. Dego's never been the kind to vocalize her feelings. She bottles them up. It's dangerous as it is for her emotional health, but since she's a shifter...." "Even more ssssso," Wyvern said, completing the thought with a small shudder. "Do you want me to talk to her?" He tapped his claws on the table, the sound reminding Kikuyu of rain on a metal roof. She shook her head. "Talking won't do any good. She needs encouragement of another kind. She needs an outlet." Her eyes hardened and her mouth curled downward. "What she honestly needs is to be broken. But we'll have to be there to catch her when that happens." "B-broken?" Wyvern asked. "Ssssounds a little....harssssh, dontcha think?" "Not at all. It's had to be done before. When the pressure is too much, you have to make an opening for the energy to drain." Wyvern swished his tail and nervously scratched a horn. "And how isssss thisss sssort of thing done? You ssssay sssshe's been unapproachable reccccently." Kikuyu shrugged. "It's different every time. Usually the emotions she bottles are all despair, sadness, and those are easy to break free." She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table, sighing. "But this is an entirely different case. She's never bottled up her rage. She's usually very good at expelling that sort of energy," she said with a chuckle. "Anger issss tricky to be ssssure," Wyvern said. "Could it be that perhapssss you've read her wrong, though?" Kikuyu frowned. "How do you mean?" "Issss there ssssomething elsssse that might be bothering her? I mean, sssshe doessssn't usssssually glare at the night doessss sssshe?" Kikuyu delved into her memory. For a moment Wyvern just watched the wheels turn within her brain. Then her eyes lit up as she remembered. She straightened suddenly, mouth slightly open. An image of her sister glaring through a frosted window at a drizzly night locked itself behind her eyes. "What?" Wyvern asked. "She's sensed him," Kikuyu breathed. "We must find her immediately." **** Kikuyu stared at the pouring rain across the courtyard, feeling the weight of depression weigh on her shoulders. Tears bit at her eyes, pushing forward, hot and unwelcome. With gritted teach she reached up and dashed them away, but they overflowed and streamed down her cheeks. "Whatssss thisss about?" Wyvern shifted uncomfortably on his feet, staring at the silently weeping girl. He had never seen Kikuyu cry...never even seen anything close to tears in her eyes. It was unnerving and painful... "I don't know," Kikuyu said breathlessly, her voice sharp between painful sobs of breath. "Where's Dego? Where..." Her eyes widened suddenly and more tears leaked onto her cheeks. "Dego," she whispered. "Oy!" Wyvern jumped as the girl split from his side, sprinting through the rain at full speed. The almost dragon tore after her, too shocked to grumble, too confused to gather his thoughts in place and wonder if perhaps the necromancer in question had any geld. His usual humor was stunned, no, bludgeoned into silence. A threat to the Pen? Impossible! Kikuyu could not longer distinguish her tears through the rain drenching her, but she still felt them bubbling in her eyes, hot and thick. Someone was tearing at her heart, someone was pulling on her very soul, her other half... "Dego!" Kikuyu shrieked. "Where are you?" There was no answer. For a fraction of a second she feared there never would be. But then a tiny pulse throbbed in her chest, renewing the pain, renewing the fear, but wholesome and alive. Kikuyu wailed, turning her path randomly, bowling through a small crowd of wet pennites under a tree. They yelled in confusion, their voices calling to her in concern. Wyvern did not pause to answer questions, his eyes fixed on the sprinting ninja ahead of him, almost impossible to see through the rain now. "Sssorry!" he shouted over his shoulder. The dragon cursed, putting on a sprint of extra geld-snatching speed, and tackled Kikuyu, pulling her to the ground. "Ssstop!" he gasped. "Thisss iss madnessss! What'sss going on?" Kikuyu struggled wildly against the Elder's grip, slipping in the mud. "Let go!" she shrieked, trying to pry his grip from her wrists. "Stupid, stupid let go now!" "What'sss up? What'ss going on? Tell me!!" Kikuyu wrenched herself from the dragon's grasp and took three faltering steps. She tripped and fell face first in the mud, her back heaving with muffled sobs. Swaying, she stumbled to her feet., her face smeared with grime, the black dirt covering her hands. She stared at them wildly, as if she saw blood there instead of mud. "Don't," she hiccuped. "Please, don't...Dego...wait... "Don't leave me!!"

Kikuyu walked into Ozzy's office, twirling a kuunai in one hand and re-reading her manuscript in another. She opened her mouth to announce herself, but her skin prickled with the feel of more than one person. She looked up and froze in mid-step, her eyes widening. Degorram was standing on one end of the room, morphed into Cheer Mynx. Something snapped in Kikuyu's brain as she stared at her dark and usually depressive twin done up in pink and pom poms. The ninja's eyes slipped slowly to Wyvern, also very awkward looking with his tail painted gold and his neck twisted and bruised. He was blushing slightly and rubbing his nose, sometimes glancing back at his ever so shiny tail. Kikuyu blinked, looked at the ceiling, and slowly turned around. She walked out of the room again without a word.

I believe you read this at Voices once...I distinctly remember the rainbows, cherubs, funyums, and puffins Though something I did notice was that Mrs. Lovett's name popped up halfway through instead of the teacher's fabricated name I love this story! And I can't really say the casual complimentary "hope we'll see more from you in the future"- that would be too awkward. I still consider you my Voices leader ~Kiku

When we say 'The Pen is Mightier Than the Sword', What is it we really think? Blades are sharp and cut through flesh, They kill in a moment, a blink. But the Pen, the words and shapes and sounds, They cut through soul and name, Once they cleave themselves to you, You'll never be the same. You feel them at your fingertips, They run behind your eyes, They push like leaf-buds in your hair, Therefore its words we cry. We sing a song of death and love, We weave that gentle dance, From the feet pound stones and hail, From the wrists entrance. On our tongues are fiery whips, Lashings for the cruel, In our arms are soothing songs, Lullabies for the fool. You see them sitting on the hill, Waiting silent and alone, Look well, my friend, there on that steep, Is where a tale is born. So laugh not at the dreamers, friends, Scorn not those who muse, We are the undying warriors here, Our pens will never lose. 'The Pen is Mightier Than the Sword', Oh quills and ink and pen! Hidden once and long before, Never to be lost again.

Kikuyu stared at the pouring rain across the courtyard, feeling the weight of depression weigh on her shoulders. Tears bit at her eyes, pushing forward, hot and unwelcome. With gritted teach she reached up and dashed them away, but they overflowed and streamed down her cheeks. "Whatssss thisss about?" Wyvern shifted uncomfortably on his feet, staring at the silently weeping girl. He had never seen Kikuyu cry...never even seen anything close to tears in her eyes. It was unnerving and painful... "I don't know," Kikuyu said breathlessly, her voice sharp between painful sobs of breath. "Where's Dego? Where..." Her eyes widened suddenly and more tears leaked onto her cheeks. "Dego," she whispered. "Oy!" Wyvern jumped as the girl split from his side, sprinting through the rain at full speed. The almost dragon tore after her, too shocked to grumble, too confused to gather his thoughts in place and wonder if perhaps the necromancer in question had any geld. His usual humor was stunned, no, bludgeoned into silence. A threat to the Pen? Impossible! Kikuyu could not longer distinguish her tears through the rain drenching her, but she still felt them bubbling in her eyes, hot and thick. Someone was tearing at her heart, someone was pulling on her very soul, her other half... "Dego!" Kikuyu shrieked. "Where are you?" There was no answer. For a fraction of a second she feared there never would be. But then a tiny pulse throbbed in her chest, renewing the pain, renewing the fear, but wholesome and alive. Kikuyu wailed, turning her path randomly, bowling through a small crowd of wet pennites under a tree. They yelled in confusion, their voices calling to her in concern. Wyvern did not pause to answer questions, his eyes fixed on the sprinting ninja ahead of him, almost impossible to see through the rain now. "Sssorry!" he shouted over his shoulder. The dragon cursed, putting on a sprint of extra geld-snatching speed, and tackled Kikuyu, pulling her to the ground. "Ssstop!" he gasped. "Thisss iss madnessss! What'sss going on?" Kikuyu struggled wildly against the Elder's grip, slipping in the mud. "Let go!" she shrieked, trying to pry his grip from her wrists. "Stupid, stupid let go now!" "What'sss up? What'ss going on? Tell me!!" Kikuyu wrenched herself from the dragon's grasp and took three faltering steps. She tripped and fell face first in the mud, her back heaving with muffled sobs. Swaying, she stumbled to her feet., her face smeared with grime, the black dirt covering her hands. She stared at them wildly, as if she saw blood there instead of mud. "Don't," she hiccuped. "Please, don't...Dego...wait... "Don't leave me!!"

This is based off of a movie, Moon Child, starring Hyde and Gackt. The three stanzas in quotes are a song from that movie. It's very good, you can find it on crunchyroll.com Burn the high fever and light the long fire Run like the children who never will tire Weep all your tears now and cast them away Keep an eye on the sun and closing of day. “We watched the setting sun, A perfect orange glow, Both about to cry...” Stand straight and tall before the sea, Watch the dim sun set and think not of me, Hold my hand, now, and squeeze it tight, Bathed in the gold of the eve’s coming light. “We watched the setting sun, A perfect orange glow, Both about to cry...” I used to fear dying, but I’m not alone, Holding your hand now I feel strong as stone, Pass into darkness, look to the west, Finally, finally, we will have rest. “We watched the setting sun, A perfect orange glow, Both about to cry, For our final farewell...”

I was at school when I did this and I think better when I type and I didn't have money to print it out T_T Part of my major novel, to be placed in later. This is mainly why I haven't been putting out so many short stories, I've finally knuckled down to editing for the *hopefully!!!* majorly last time! He was very young. Too young, it seemed, to be sitting by himself in a dark room lit by a single candle. The fire created dancing castles and cities on the dark brown stone walls. The young man, a boy really, watched them intently. He did not blink, did not shut his lids over the pale grey of his eyes. His tawny hair, cut short in the back and standing on end, draped on either side of his face, flickering gold and silver in the firelight. The door creaked open and a pale face was half illuminated, the light sliding and cutting across the angular features to rest, glimmer, pool in a single scarlet orb. “Nefarious.” The boy tilted his chin slightly, his gaze shifting from the wall to the speaker’s face, half-hidden in shadow, half-ablaze in fire. He did not open his mouth. “I need you. Stand.” Nefarious stood mechanically, his eyes still fixed on the tall specter at the door. “What would you have me do?” His voice was flat and cold but unusually high and childlike. He looked very small in the light. As the light slid to his eyes, the pupils contracted into slits, transforming the childish lay of his face into something inhuman, something alien. “Come,” the intruder said blandly, but his lips curled, catching the light against his sharp teeth. “There is someone you need to meet.” Nefarious sat cross-legged in front of the other young man, staring. The man across from him was much older than he, at least by ten years. His black hair was mussed and pulled sloppily back into a rough horsetail low at his neck, and many bruises darkened his cheeks and brow. Two scars, one on his lip and eyebrow, twisted his expression into a permanent scowl. He, too, did not blink or shut his large golden eyes, the slitted pupils fixed on the boy. “So then,” the young, dark man growled, his eyes finally sliding over to the paper and blood man nearby. “What is this?” “That,” Aazurud replied, his eyes narrowed, his mouth peeling into a grin, “is Nefarious. He’s a…friend, of mine, you could say.” “Your spawn, more like,” Berdaun sneered. “Don’t play. I know where Melthran and Pleidius and the rest came from.” “I have no idea what you speak of,” the Myst smiled, running a finger along his lips. “But I would watch your tongue. Nefarious will get his feelings hurt, and he is to be your constant companion for a very, very long time.” Berdaun twitched, his scaled ears twisting back in smothered rage. “What?” “You heard me, child. He is to follow you, and seeing as you will be traveling across Aewin at Malus’ beck and call, you will have plenty of time to get to know each other.” Berdaun shot to his feet. “I could kill him,” he hissed. “He’s not very big, but he’s a big enough target.” Aazurud’s eyes flickered to Nefarious and the Ameron froze, glancing down at his chest. The boy Myst was standing just under him, a tiny blade in each hand poised over Berdaun’s hamstring and kidney. The Ameron hesitated, but his hands shot forward so quickly it caught both Mysts off guard. Nefarious did not yelp as the Ameron tossed him effortlessly over his shoulder, his fist following to slam into the boy’s stomach. The child Myst scrambled, twisting about to try and dig one of his blades into Berdaun’s eye. The Ameron snarled and spat, grabbing the boy’s wrist in his large hand, about to twist and break the bone. Nefarious grinned and Berdaun stumbled back, repulsed by a fierce get of smoking light that suddenly burst from the boy’s body. Berdaun’s right hand began to glow black. “Enough!” Aazurud was laughing. “As you can see you are evenly matched. You will not beat Nefarious, and as he grows, he will continue to surpass you. Perhaps you could learn from each other, but if not, well,” Aazurud grinned. “At least Nefarious will be able to kill you if you try to get out of hand.” “I thought that was what these were for,” Berdaun gritted through clenched teeth, pointing at the two puncture scars on his neck. Aazurud smiled. “Those are for special occasions. Sleep now, child. You have an early start in the morning.” The Myst disappeared, locking the door behind him. Berdaun glanced at Nefarious and slumped into the corner, glaring. The child sat down quietly and fixed his eyes on a candle flame. The lights flickered across the room, glittering in the animal eyes of the Ameron who watched mistrustfully.

“All is going according to plan then?” “Yes, sire. Ian took care of the last preparations around eleven.” “Very good...then our operation should take place without a twitch. You know your duty?” “Yes sire...Jeremy-” “Do not speak the name! Our enemies are everywhere. We must use the utmost caution at times like these. Go. See that you gather them all for this. I don’t want a single thing to go wrong.” “Yes sire. As you say.” It was a cold, misty night. Those who were out in the cobblestone streets held their jackets up over their heads, rushing home as the rain spattered down in large drops. Whenever lightning flashed the swiftly roiling clouds overhead could be seen, their bulging, black and blue bruised edges writhing in turmoil above. The streetlamps slowly flickered on as the darkness fell, creeping along the streets. In an ally, six tall shadows waited, ignoring the rain. Their long cloaks, tattered and dirty at the edges, seemed to melt into the shadows. Lamplight glided across cheekbones and damp hair. From the man at their head, a glittering eye caught the firelight from the lamps like a bright coin. As if on command, the eye dimmed and they became shadows. In wraith-like stillness, they waited. The hours passed. No wanderer moved along the streets now as the great clock of the city chimed the midnight hour. The man at the front turned his head ever so slightly, his hair falling into his eyes. Still they waited. None moved. Footsteps smacking against the wet pavement made not an impression among them, though to a trained eye it was determinable that this was what they had been waiting for. The man at the front lifted his head, his chin having sunk down to his breast as if drowsy. Again his bright coin eye glittered in the light, and a twisted, sharp smile stretched his thin, pale lips. Without a word he led the six out into the street, fleeting shadows against the storefronts and townhouses. The man who had arrived on the street was tall, his dark hair stringy with wet. The rain poured over his long jacket, and he held the collar of his coat tight about his ears with gloved hands to keep out the cold. Silently the cloaked men split along the streets, three to a side, and followed him. The pursued paused, as if he had heard something, and turned. He scanned the lonely streets, straining his ears as he sought to pick up a noise, any noise. Only the pattering rain came to him, the clinking of rain striking a metal surface echoing eerily down the street. Slowly, the four lampposts nearest him fizzled out in the downpour. The man shivered and fingered his coat collar, casting a final glance behind him. He turned around again. Never had he been more surprised and horrified. An inch from him, his nose almost touching his own, was a tall man of his own height. His hair was long and silvery grey, falling in long locks about his face. His right eye concealed by the filigree hair, the man stared at him from a single golden eye that glittered like a bright coin in the darkness. What little light there was from the flickering lightning slid along his pale, gaunt features like the water that streamed along his skin and cloak. The man started as the horror before him rested a hand on his shoulder, staring at him with all the seriousness of a long-time friend. The man’s eyes moved slowly to the source of the steady tink-tink-tink of rain hitting metal. In the wraith’s other hand was a long blade, slightly curved at the end. Engraved in the metal was the label H2SO4. “Then it is you,” the man whispered. “Who sent out the call?” “No one,” the wraith whispered. “Cleaning out the garbage is a personal job.” The long edge of the cold blade rested against the man’s breastbone. He flinched, but kept his gaze fixed on the single eye of the man before him. “I guess this is it then, Jeremy.” The man’s eye flashed and he raised the sword. “My name,” he said in a soft voice that hissed like burning acid, “is H2SO4.” The sword came slicing down without a sound. “Justin, come to me.” “Yes sire?” “We cannot continue as we are now. Life is too dangerous for us to go on in such animosity. We must become well known. The others will know what to do. Gather them together. I will speak with them.” “Yes sire.” The large circular room was painted red. It was a dark red, so dark it appeared brown until the light hit it. Torches were hung on the walls every few feet, and between each torch stood a cloaked man. H2SO4 stood at the center, watching each of them from his one visible eye. The guild trademark was the right eye. As the central man turned, gazing at all of his faithful warriors, only their left eye could be seen. The right eye was carefully obscured, for reasons that only H2SO4 knew. Each had a symbol emblazoned onto the backs of their cloaks. For H2SO4 himself it was a long white wing. H2SO4 smiled grimly as his eyes rested on his second in command, Justin, with his cool calculating gaze. Justin, alias HNO3, had a gnarled bat-like wing, a dragon’s wing. HCl, also known as Ian, had a bone upon his shoulders. HI, Nathaniel, had a single grouping of feathers. HBr, the wild one, with his dark tinted lips, had the sign of a spike. H2SO4 could not help smirking. That Saul was indeed a cruel one. Almost as cruel as himself. Lastly, HClO4, Peter, had an orb of dark light that seemed to swirl into non-existence while doubling back on itself. H2SO4 spread wide his long-fingered hands. “My brothers,” he said in his soft voice, his single eye narrowed in the very sign of wickedness. “The time has come for the others to acknowledge us.” A slow chuckled went around the group. H2SO4 nodded. “Yes...they have held us in low esteem for far too long. But then, it was not so long ago when we were but a group of orphans, all of us. All of us forgotten, ignored. All of us with a deep pain that burned like the acids we are named for. Soon we will move to a new place, where we will engage in the devilish game of strike and kill. Soon those petty Samurai, and the even more foolish Knights,” here the man paused, savoring his hatred for the mere names of the other gangs before he continued, “soon they will understand. Acids may seem dormant for a time, but while they rest, they burn.” H2SO4’s eye glittered and he pressed his fingers to his chest. “I am named for one of the weakest among you,” he said softly. “And that attests that even the weakest is potent. You have each performed admirably. We strike out before dawn. Wear civilian clothes. On the morrow, we mingle.” The streets were filled with morning shoppers, workers, and street children. Six solemn men in tunics and leggings walked down the street. A few of them wore travel stained cloaks, some wide-brimmed hats with plumes. Three of them, including the man at their head, had hair that fell before their right eyes. A few wiser civilians parted ways as the men walked down the street. One of the three had an eye patch across his right orb, another had a cloth pulled down over his eye, and the tallest, with sandy hair and an easy smile, seemed to fade in and out of shadows that pooled around the right side of his face. As a group of laughing street urchins rushed by he laughed and ruffled one’s hair. The man at the front cast him a slightly amused glance, but his mouth did not move in a smile. The street gave way to the marketplace which ran in a long circle around the main road. After about a mile the cobblestones turned to dirt and the surroundings became farmland. At a local inn the six men rented long-legged horses, the best that money could buy. They were well known at the place, their gold spoken for without words. As the last of the storm clouds gushed away to the north the six riders galloped south into the wastes and the lands claimed by all of the guilds, witches, wizards, and unsavory urchins of world. Night fell quickly in the woods that soon surrounded them. Owls hooted duskily to each other from the high branches as the men trotted in single-line down the well beaten track. Justin glanced up at the darkness overhead as he felt the tips of an owl’s wing brush his cheek. They came to a clearing with a fire-pit, a known place to the troupe, and picketed their horses among the trees. Lighting a small fire, they gathered around it, wrapping themselves in their cloaks and coats as the mist rose from the ground. The night was about to get very cold. “My lads,” Jeremy said, his single visible eye reflecting the starlight as he gazed at the thousands of sparkling orbs above, “you know why we are come this way. I must say now something I do not say often. I trust in each and every one of you. I trust your character as I trust your abilities. Should anything happen to me, I place Justin in charge.” He lowered his gaze so that his glittering eye could pierce them all with undisputable command. “You all know this as the best choice.” The men nodded, bowing their heads to Justin in turn. Justin stared into the fire, seemingly detached from it all. Jeremy nodded. “Good. Now, you know the reputation and hostility of these woods. Right now we are on the edge of a new wizard’s territory. He does not know of us or our power. On the morrow we will visit him and introduce ourselves in a civilized way. If he proves troublesome we will move to force, and only if.” Jeremy’s eye swiveled to center on Saul. “So behave yourself.” The man with dark charcoal smeared on his lips pouted, a small growl protruding from his lips as he fingered one of his many knives. “Very well,” he muttered in a suave voice. Jeremy gave a brief smile that faded quickly from his face. “Good. Now, get some rest. It is a big morning we all have tomorrow.” The night drifted slowly as the hours crept past. Jeremy twitched in his sleep, his one visible eye closed. But a faint shimmer from beneath his hair indicated that his other eye, his unseen eye, was awake and watchful. One of the men opened his eyes, unmoving. His hair was pulled back into a long horsetail, his lips tainted with charcoal or some other dark paint. Slowly he sat up, looking about him with a small frown on his face. He disappeared into the trees, backing away from the camp and circling around. Through the trees crept a man dressed in rags and breathing with the heaviness of one who is trying to suppress their noise. A knife was in his hands and he had his eyes fixed on the circle of robed men before him. Something hard and round was pressed to his temple and a hand brushed his throat. The man stopped, his mouth gaping with horror. Saul glared at the man from over his black-plated gun. “What are you doing here?” he whispered. The peasant gasped hoarsely, his eyes popping in horror. A gurgle of a scream burst from between his lips and he made a run for it, but Saul pulled him roughly down onto the ground, putting a knee into his chest and pushing the barrel of his gun against his forehead roughly. “I asked you a question, scum!” The peasant began to weep. Saul’s lips curled in fury. “You’re disgusting!” he hissed. “What is to keep me from killing you right now?” The hammer on his gun clicked as he cocked it. “Hold, Saul,” Jeremy said from where he had appeared behind them. “Let us see our little midnight creeper.” Jeremy bent down next to the peasant and stared intently at him with his one eye. Silence grew along the wood until even the sobs of the peasant had stilled. The would-be murderer stared back at Jeremy as if hypnotized. Jeremy’s face contorted. “Kill him,” he said simply. Saul’s mouth stretched into a grin and he raised his wrist, leveling the barrel of the gun on his forehead again. “NO!” the man shrieked. “Please, no! I’ll tell you everything!” Jeremy’s eye glittered in the starlight. “I don’t care about whatever it is you think would interest me. I already know everything I need to know. You’re from one of the petty gangs. Thought you could kill six seasoned thieves and assassins with your petty knife? You, a peasant who sold your own children for a crust?” Jeremy spat on the ground beside the peasant’s face, the spit hissing as it ate into the ground. The peasant shrieked and writhed to pull away, but Jeremy gripped his chin firmly, forcing him to stare into his eye. “You sicken me,” he snarled. “It is people like you who make this world so distasteful.” Jeremy stood and turned away. After he had walked a few steps, he made a swift hand gesture. A single shot caused the four men still around the campfire to turn their already open eye towards the woods. None of them said a word as Jeremy and Saul walked back into the circle, Saul’s gun still smoking. The six men stood in front of a humble cottage on the edge of the woods. In the back a cow lowed and a few chickens grumbled as they moved about the yard. Saul eyed the little house with a condescending eye. “Quaint,” he said in a sharp voice. “This is supposed to be a wizard’s house?” “Yes,” a warm, pleasant voice said from behind them. “Do you like it?” The six men turned, no surprise on their faces. Before them was a tall, thin man with wavy black hair that fell to just below his earlobes. His ears were pierced with scarlet stones, and he wore an immaculate white shirt and black leggings. His boots were cleaned to perfection as well, even though he was standing in a dirty, dusty road. His eyes were the clearest blue that any of them had seen. Jeremy stepped forward and sank into a low bow, sweeping off his plumed hat. A short smile graced his handsome features and then drifted away again as quickly to wherever his smiles were hidden. “Good day, sir wizard.” The wizard bowed in return. “Good day. Do you really like it though? Perhaps it is too simple?” The wizard waved a hand, colorful sparks flying from his fingertips, and the cottage ballooned into a tall castle-like tower. “There, that’s better.” He smiled in a satisfied way for a few moments before he turned to the unmoved six men before him. “So how can I help you?” “We merely came to introduce ourselves,” Jeremy said tightly. “We are called the Acids. You need not know much about us, other than that at times we will require the use of your land for hiding or camping purposes, and will not tolerate any disruption. Should we need a place to stay, these woods are prime for our hiding places. Do you have any objections?” Jeremy’s eyebrow arched cynically in an obvious laugh at the very thought. The smile was gone from the wizard’s face. “Indeed you are right that I have no interest in knowing anything about you. And I have no desire to enter into a feud with you, a feud that, despite the fact that you would undoubtedly lose, would cost me dear time. I am far too busy for that sort of thing. Very well, you may take use of my land, but be sure that it is in no way close to my home. I will not tolerate a horde of assassins raining down upon my door asking for directions to the nearest hideout.” Jeremy gave a bark of laughter and bowed again. “You amuse me, wizard. We will be sure to stay out of your fine obsidian locks." The wizard gave a short smile. “Very poetic,” he drawled. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have things to do.” Slowly the Acids filed down his path, leaving him standing before his tower. The wizard watched them melt into the trees and he felt a shiver run up his spine. Frowning, he turned and entered his tower. The stones immediately shrank and bulged outwards, forming a moldering stone hut. Smoke began to rise from the chimney and a light appeared in one of the windows as night fell. The wizard threw his gloves onto a pile of books and, frustrated, bent against the sill of his long window. He peered down at the trees from the great height of his now replaced tower, frowning. Were the so-called ‘Acids’ prowling through his woods at the moment? It did not comfort him to consider it. Their leader gave him a bad feeling and he would have liked nothing better than to dissolve their matter on the spot. But no, it would not do to provoke his new neighbors until he knew more about them. The wizard turned to a small mirror on his table and picked it up, passing his hand before it. “Iboto, wake up!” From the mirror appeared the face of what might have been a scaly lizard, but was more akin to a human’s visage. The eyes were dark blue but had snake-like pupils, slit long-ways and dilating in the light. “Ahhh...Master Slack...what is it I can do for you this fine morning.” “It’s night,” Slack said tightly. The demon’s eyes roved over the hut slowly, taking in the lit lanterns and flickering shadows calmly. “Oh,” it said. “Well then, what is it I can do for you this fine evening?” “I want you to find the presence of one man who should be fairly nearby...he’s the leader of a gang called the Acids; they must be moderately new, I don’t recognize them at all. The entire troupe only shows off their left eyes, and they all wear cloaks of the same general color scheme. Find them and show him to me.” The demon rolled his eyes. “As you command, oh magnanimous one.” His face disappeared as if he had rolled over himself and smoke whirled up before the glass. Slack waited for a few tense moments and then a bunch of trees appeared. There were the six men, sitting about a fire. Their leader had his eye closed, his shoulders hunched as he seemed to drift into sleep. Then his eye opened and caught the light of the fire, causing it to wink unpleasantly. Slack’s lips curled and he could swear that, if he had had hackles, they would be rising. In fact he could feel his hair prickling and he ran a hand through his locks impatiently. He chucked the mirror onto his bed. “Fine, that’s all I wanted.” Iboto’s scaly face appeared in the glass again. “Right creepy one you have there, master. Might I inquire as to who he is and how you know of him?” “They’re our new neighbors,” Slack said irritably. “Now go away.” Iboto sank into the mists of the mirror and then the glass cleared. The demon was gone. Slack sank into one of his easy chairs with a gratified sigh. A crow on a perch not too far away croaked at him. Slack eyed it. “What do you want?” The crow opened its large wings and flapped over to him. In mid-flight it turned into a girl wearing a short dress who sat in his lap, twirling a finger in his hair. “Slack, dear—” “Before you ask me anything, get out of that form!” The girl pouted and then her image twisted to reveal a short young man wearing an apprentice’s robe and slacks. He leapt backwards, planting his hands on his hips. “What’s wrong with it?” “It’s too life-like. You’ve been peeking on the farmer’s daughters again, haven’t you!” The boy blushed. “Erm...noooo...” Slack cast the boy a harsh glare. “If you do it again I’ll remove your eyes for a few days and we’ll see if you dare disobey me after that.” The boy’s cheeks turned a bit pale but he showed no sign that he was afraid. “Poo you and your rules,” he grumped. “Fine, I’ll keep me eyes to myself.” “My eyes to myself,” Slack corrected, sinking lower into his chair and throwing an arm across his gaze, shielding them from the bright light. “Now what did you want?” “Who were those guys you were talking to earlier?” Slack grunted. “Who cares right now? Bring me some milk, or some tea...I don’t care what, just make it hot!” The boy got up without a word and disappeared on the spot. He knew that if he got his master his drink without arguing, he just might receive the information he wanted. Especially if he laced the wizard’s drink with a drop of whisky...maybe more than a drop... “And don’t you dare put any liquor in it!” Slack’s voice snapped after the time tunnel his warping had left. The boy pouted, adding the whisky anyway. It would help him sleep. When the apprentice brought Slack the hot milk the wizard sniffed it, cast a glare the boy’s way, and then sipped it gingerly. “Great witches, Owel! How much did you put in?” Owel scuffed his foot against the stone. “Only half a cup...” The wizard’s burning eyes nearly nailed him to the floor and he fidgeted, fearing punishment, but the wizard drank the milk anyway. “I suppose you only put this in here because you wanted me to tell you about them.” Owel crossed his legs as he sat on the floor and watched his master silently. Slack shook his head and took another gulp of his milk, wincing as the fiery liquor in it burned down his throat. “They are a group of assassins and thieves, called the Acids, who are moving out to the Wastes to make their...exploits known. I do not think this is the last we have heard of them.” Owel slid deep into his own thoughts, his eyes sparkling with hidden ambition. Perhaps...but no, he would never dare. He was safe here. Owel looked back up at his master, his mouth opening to speak, but he stopped with a small smile. Slack had fallen asleep, his chin slipping onto his chest and his hair falling into his eyes. Slowly Owel stood and draped a blanket over his master, and then slid to his own chambers. Slack woke with a very strong hangover. Alcohol, even the slightest drop, does not hold well with wizards, and Slack had consumed more than a slight drop. He was not happy. Cursing and stumbling, he made his way about his morning chores. The sky was dark with storm clouds and Slack glared up at it, his headache lessening a little as worry took its place. “This sky bodes ill,” he whispered. “Owel!” Slack rushed into the tower, calling for his apprentice. “Owel!” The young man was nowhere to be seen. Slack, his heart growing cold with horrid premonition, rushed to his apprentice’s chambers. They were empty, his things packed. Slack’s mouth opened in shock and he felt a chill shake his spine. “No!” he gasped. Owel peered through the leaves at the six men before him, robed and hooded as they were. He felt a flicker of doubt in his spine as the one with dark lips glanced at the sky with a feral grin. Their leader, the one with the golden coin eye gave him the chills, and he began to wish he was back at the tower. “I should not have come,” he whispered. “Shouldn’t you?” a cold voice behind him inquired. Owel whirled, feeling his blood run from his veins with fear. Behind him, a very tall man with spiked hair was staring down at him with an expressionless glare. The man put a hand on his chest and pushed him into the clearing. “What little mouse have we found here, then?” Ian said, staring down at his catch. “Owel,” the young man stuttered. “Owl?” Ian asked, raising his one visible eyebrow. “So you are not a mouse?” Saul appeared behind Owel, putting a hand on the back of his neck. “You can still die like one,” the Acid whispered. Owel felt his knees give way and he collapsed into a kneeling position of servitude that he did not like. He pressed his hands into the ground, his eyes shut. When he opened them a hand tilted his chin up. He found himself staring into the single golden eye of their leader. “You are the wizard’s apprentice, hmmm?” Owel nodded faintly. “I wanted to come with you...grow more powerful. It is too slow going with Slack.” “Slack?” the Acid said musingly. “So that is his name. And you grew bored with your venerated master?” His golden eye narrowed menacingly. “What would you do when you grew bored with my tutelage, little Owl? No, that I will not have. It is loyalty or nothing. But perhaps you can help us. I do not trust that the wizard will keep his word with us. You are that perfect assurance.” Owel stared in horror as the man beckoned to the dark-lipped man to bind his hands. “Saul, you will be his guardian. Make sure nothing happens to him, and make sure he doesn’t run away.” Saul looked down at Owel and grinned, his eyes glittering darkly. Again Owel felt faint. “With pleasure,” the Acid growled. Slack charged through the trees, his weapons slung across his back. “Stupid Owel!” he hissed. “Foolish Owel!” The dark clouds overhead grumbled with thunder and again the wizard stopped and looked up through the trees. A flash of violet and scarlet lightning sent another shiver down his spine. “This is no normal storm,” he whispered. Lowering his head he continued his charge through the woods. The Acids stood in a circle, Owel lying bound behind Saul. Their eyes glittered and together they held their right fists in the air. The storm boiled around them, the lightning licking off of their raised fingers and the weapons they held in their left hands. H2SO4 looked up at the sky, his gaze sending chills even along the spines of his men. “The others will know our power,” he whispered, his eye widening with maddened surety. “They will know of it!” Justin watched his master silently, another shiver trickling down his spine. He looked down at the young boy at Saul’s booted feet and he felt a stirring of sympathy. That Jeremy was taking advantage of his opportunities was good (it had saved their lives on many occasions when they had been but street brats together), but he did not like holding a mere child captive, especially with Saul as his keeper. Justin tilted his head to look back at the sky. The lightning was building, branching and pooling on their hands. Justin swallowed and stiffened his fingers. This was for the good of the Acids. Slack panted as he charged through the leaves, his eyes fixed on the pool of lightning over the treetops. “Owel!” he muttered. “Stupid, stupid Owel, don’t die!” H2SO4 blinked and cocked his head to the side. “Justin, we have a visitor. Please, would you escort him?” Justin gave a sharp nod and placed his weapon on the ground, departing from the circle. His eye glittered as he disappeared into the trees. Owel watched him leave fearfully, whimpering as Saul’s grip on his hair tightened. The lightning overhead grew more frequent, zapping at Slack’s energy, and again he was forced to stop. He leaned his hands on his knees, panting. “What power is this?” he muttered. “The Acids can’t have a wizard among them...I would have sensed it...” Groaning he lurched onwards, pushing branches and vines out of his way. A rock slammed into his foot, or vice versa, and he fell heavily with a cry. He sat up, shaking hair out of his eyes. His limbs were so weary that he felt...felt like death itself. Pain lanced through his body as he tried desperately to move and he bit his lips hard. His eyes flickered about. “Come out then,” he rasped. “I know you’re there.” The Acid appeared from behind a tree, watching him dispassionately. “A little tired?” he whispered, his voice crackling eerily over the sound of thunder in the distance. “You are more than a little drunk.” “Was,” Slack snarled. “And only thanks to that traitorous brat of yours,” Justin said, taking a step closer. “We have him, if you want to see him, but I am curious as to why you would come all this way to rescue him. He is nothing but a traitor.” Slack sneered. “He has done nothing to harm me,” he said. “He has only harmed himself, and he is young and inexperienced with the alluring ways of evil. I said you could live off of my lands, but your leader swore to me that he would stay away from me.” Justin crouched in front of the wizard, a lazy smile on his face. “And so he has. It is not his fault that your apprentice came to us. And now you have pursued us. That wasn’t in the agreement, now was it?” Slack shook his head slowly, a small smile flickering across his own visage. “You slimy kyyks,” he muttered (using a term he had learned long ago from a very irritated sorceress). Then he collapsed on the ground, his eyelids flickering. He dimly felt the Acid’s fingers close around his wrist, testing his pulse. “The acid I have used on you works as a sedative as well as a poison. You will fall unconscious in about thirty seconds, after which you will die unless I give you the antidote. H2SO4 will decide your fate.” The Acid was gripping him around the waist and heaving him onto his shoulder. Due to his long frame, he was hard to maneuver, but his light weight made him easy to carry. The dark cloth of the Acid’s robe was the last he saw before black shrouded his vision. “Send one of the lads, one he likes. We need as much delicacy on this as possible—he’s been very touchy lately. Don’t fail me, Justin.” “I’ll see to it.” “In fact, why don’t you bring along our friends. I’m sure he’ll take them off our hands with welcome. A little gift might sweeten his mood.” “As you say.” HCl walked slowly towards the city, his heart pounding in his throat. This was dangerous, and he did not mind feeling fear. Not about this. He gritted his teeth, tightening his hold on the rope that tied the drugged wizard and his cowed apprentice. “Don’t utter a noise,” he snarled at his prisoners, “or I’ll kill you before we ever arrive!” Owel bit his lips, staring at their destination with wide eyes. On the outskirts of the city was an abandoned warehouse, huge in size. Cement supports made the wind whistle, and scraps of garbage littered the ground, stirring like ghosts in the breeze. The large doors creaked loudly as HCl pushed them open. Owel winced, staring up into the blackness. The ceiling disappeared into the inky shadows, and there was no lighting beyond a single lamp that fluttered ahead, a tiny spot in the dark. HCl yanked them forward with a grunt, glaring at the light ahead. The light grew to bathe an area just large enough for the three to stand in. HCl held a slip of paper up. “We need this,” he said softly, his eyes downcast. “H2SO4 sends his regards.” The paper disappeared from HCl’s grasp. Owel jumped—he had not even seen the hand that had taken it. There was a thick silence. “You know the severity of what you ask?” HCl smiled faintly. “Yes.” “Then be prepared to accept the consequences.” A white gloved hand appeared into the light, holding forth and envelope. “Add H2SO4 and duck.” HCl reached for the packet with glittering eyes. The fingers holding it twitched, flicking the envelope up just out of reach. HCl froze, breath held. A pair of black eyes glittered as dark light penetrated the depths of the shadows. Another gloved hand gripped the arm of his seat tightly. “Be careful,” he hissed, light sliding over his bared teeth. “I am not to be crossed.” HCl bowed deeply. “We never considered such a thing,” he said sincerely. “Nor shall you,” was the deep reply. The packet settled softly into HCl’s waiting fingers. HCl tucked the envelope into his cloak, a small smile on his face. “H2SO4 will be pleased.” “He had better.” The Acid bowed. “In return my prestigious master bequeaths this gift—two prisoners of war for however you see fit to use them.” “Leave.” HCl grinned at Owel, who bit back a yelp of fear. Behind him Slack was just beginning to open his eyes, swaying on his feet as the drug wore off. The Acid disappeared into the shadows. The doors clanged shut, leaving the wizard and his apprentice standing in the pool of light alone. Slack blinked twice and peered about him. “What’s going on?” he whispered to Owel. “You are my prisoners now,” the dealer said from the shadows. “What will happen to you is my decision.” “And exactly who are you?” Slack snapped. “What is your name?” “Name?” the voice whispered. Slack blinked against the blinding light, gripping Owel’s shoulders tightly. “I have no name, but...I suppose you could call my Simony.” Slack gasped and jerked back as the speaker stepped into the light, inches from the wizard’s nose. He was dressed all in black, his dress coat fraying at the edges and sleeves. One spotless white glove covered his left hand, on glove blacker than the shadows beyond the pool of light in which they stood on his right. His long hair, ragged and slightly dusty, was combed on either side of his very pale, very thin face. Piercings glinted from his ear, brows, and lower lip. “Hello,” he said with a forced smile. His eyes sparkled blackly. “Now we are formally introduced. And you shall tell me what I am to do with you.” **** I know Slack is a repeated name of mine, but it was all I could think of T_T Suggestions for that as well would be greatly appreciated, and whether I should finish this story...

Myep....shiny!

Thanks Wyvern! I'm glad you liked it

(I wasn't sure where to put this, but now that I think about it I should have put it in the Carbaret Room where the "I don't know where to put this" goes... Oh dear...How do you move these things??) Well, I was feeling macabre today so I decided to draw myself and Dego. This is probably the best representation I've done so far... Wyvern, you'll remember these faces from not so long ago. Two words: tickle...torture...

I like it!

A Raisin in the Sun? Could you post it? I don't think I've heard of that...

What is a Poem? Does it rhyme or jump? Does it runaway before being trapped by a butterfly net? Does it sit quiet and stout in four lines or lie thin along the road in thirty? Does it flaunt its face before applauding spectators or hide its meaning among shrouds of scarlet cloth? Does it speak with stones or sunlight birds’ wings or foxes’ tails? What is a Poem? All of the Above.

Kikuyu walked in last minute, glancing around cautiously. She fingered a very sharp looking throwing star behind her back, and her usually happy, if only partially so, expression had been reduced to a quiet, dark expression of non-happiness. She spotted the Almost Dragon standing beside CheerMynx, his fingers twitching compulsively as he chewed on something that appeared to be chocolatey in nature. A semi-normal smile of wickedness curled across the ninja's lips as she took a few more steps forward, her arm bent carefully. Faster than an eye could follow, if anyone had been looking at her anyway, her hand blurred and launched its deadly missile... The throwing star hit the wall just to the side of Wyvern's nose and exploded into a rainbow shower of confetti and mini chocolate kuunai. Some of the confetti landed on Wyvern's nose and stuck there, bobbing ridiculously. Kikuyu straightened and dusted her hands off, her eyebrows raising in satisfaction. "I told you we needed sparkles, Wyv!" >.<

...Oh yeah... ~twin ~magenta ~spiked ~plunger

He stared down from the catwalk on which he was perched and sighed for what seemed the thousandth time. He knew he was the only one fit for the perch, so precariously placed above the theatre. But he was lonely. Pulling a pretty pout, he tried practicing appearing beautiously pitiful to adoring fangirls to pass the time. No luck-- he was still resolutely bored. With another sigh, somewhere in the millions this time, he was sure, he stretched out along the thin wooden beam and stared up at the dim stage lights overhead. They were the only things higher up than he, and then the stars beyond. Whimsically he raised an arm and stretched his fingers upwards to touch the bright dots of light he could not see... The catwalk undulated violently, shaking him fiercely. With a short bark of a cry he grabbed the wood with the tips of his fingers before the heaving could drop him the hundred feet to the stage below. The shaking stopped and he paused to catch his breath, ignoring the strain on his fingers to ponder his very unique situation. Of course no one was here-- he had arrived early to be alone...or had he? No, that had been the club, with his red embroidered jacket of mysterious allure and that pretty girl who just could not resist his charms... Another shudder brought him back from his reverie. He craned his neck to look at the ground below. Where was everyone, by the way? He opened his mouth to raise a tentative haloo but changed his mind. How dashing would it be if they found him in this precarious situation, only to save himself at the last moment with his swift reflexes and skills of strength. He smiled smugly and crossed his one free arm, nodding with satisfaction. And when this was all over, as a treat, he would go and buy that absolutely marvelous purple and black jerkin. He had an undeniable need for purple and black these days... An hour later his fingers were getting tired, as well as his shoulder, and he had grown more lonely than ever. He was sure that the sigh-number had reached well beyond billions, and his need for purple and black was growing unbearable. Maybe he should just get himself down now and go buy that jerkin to make himself feel better. No one was around, they had left him alone in the catwalk as a joke, and were probably laughing now. With a small private growl he began to lever himself up... "The whole group is no better than chunks in the sewage," he belched sometime later. The two identical girls sitting in front of him nodded absently, swaying back and forth. "I say, sit still," he said uneasily, holding his head. "You're making me ill. But I'll show them. They won't find anyone else to sit in their catwalk for them, and I'll just sit to the side and look unconcerned and terribly beautiful, and then all the girls will swoon for me. Say, do you like my purple and black? It does so well match my hair, don't you think?" He blinked and squinted. The girls were gone...where had they run off to? In fact it was very hard to see, as if someone were covering up the sight on either side of his eyes. "Here now," he grumbled, standing shakily up. The floor seemed to heave under his feet and he looked down at them with what he was sure was a reprimanding glare. "Stop that," he mumbled. "Now where did those lovely ladies get off to?" With a small grunt he shifted and fell over, his eyes shuttering closed with another faint "purple and black...yes..." The single girl who had been listening to his complaints for the last hour looked at him with faint concern. "Is he going to be alright?" The bartender chuckled. "I'll take him home later tonight. He does this every week, poor chap. Thinks he's a tightrope walker or something. But he's harmless enough. Shall I walk you home?" "Yes, that would be acceptable," the girl agreed with a smile. The bartender put down the glass he was cleaning and opened the door for her, following her out into the dusky streets. The unconscious man on the floor gurgled and turned over, paddling his legs as if riding a bicycle. "Yes isn't it dashing..." he mumbled. "Why thank you for saying so, I quite agree..."

Outside the clouds are twisting, shrouding, Inside the darkness banished, dying, Outside the wind is calling, calling, Inside the stillness growing, laughing, Outside the fey blood quickens, pulses, Inside the normal snickers, thrives, Outside the tree limbs thrash, dance, Inside the dead trees freeze, stay, Outside the free ones laugh, shriek, Inside the captive freeze, weep.

Dark and slightly sardonic. The use of imagery and first person worked well, in this, Sir Walnut. Just a few typos, but then those are as sneaky as soot sprites. I certainly hope there will be more additions to the undying assassin's journal (?)

I've walked so many paths with you We've laughed and cried and danced a few 'Fore long we'll have to say goodbye, And I'll try very hard not to cry. You'll walk away, I'll stay behind, But friends like you are hard to find, 'Fore long we'll have to say goodbye, And I'll try very hard not to cry. I'll always remember how you changed me, From minotuars to ninjas to a man named D, But 'fore long we'll have to say goodbye, And I'll try very hard not to cry. I know that this is not forever, Our ties will never truly sever, But 'fore long we'll have to say goodbye, And I'll try very hard not to cry. Be strong and courageous, think of me often, Never let your memories fade or harden, Although miles will keep us far apart, You are my friends, my joy, my heart.

Thank you Tralla for all of those critiques! Yes, they will help in the future and I'll get to editing them right away...after my research paper of course...

Actually it's a reference to the Kikuyu Degorram story and their past. No inspiration from another work...

*giggle*