5k words in one day? It's not over 9000, but it will do for now

The laughs followed shortly.  After catching his breath, the clerk continued, “Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t help myself.  Every year there’s at least one new combatant who’s running in like a crazed madman, and I always tell them the same thing, but your reaction was by far the best I’ve seen.  You don’t hide your emotions very well, do you?”  The clerk- dressed in an interesting attire of blue pants with a button-up shirt, both of which had a thick, white stripe running down the middle of them- stepped from behind his desk and moved to a door to Ian’s left, not ten feet away.  Pulling a ring of many keys from a loop partially hidden by his loose shirt, the clerk lifted a panel on the large, intricately designed door, and inserted his key.

Ian paused for a second as he took in the scene in front of him.  The carving in the stone door depicted a lot of flowing lines surrounding a person, who appeared to be coming out of the ground.   It seemed as though the man was empty, but the lines were trying to fill him with something.  Perhaps it was life?  The man’s pose suggested that he was waking up for the first time, maybe it was talking about –

The clerk’s voice butt into Ian’s thoughts, “We really don’t have a lot of time. We’re cutting it close already as it is.  This time you really did just barely squeak in.  I don’t think I’ve had anyone come in exactly at the deadline before.  So congratulations, Ian, you really are a man of firsts for the Arena.”

Ian just bowed his head as he walked through the door which easily dwarfed him.  With all his running, he didn’t even have a time to see just how huge this level of the tower was.  The floor was easily thirty feet beneath the ceiling, and the door was only a few feet shorter than the whole room.  He had a hard time taking it all in, and wanted to keep looking into the previous room, but the clerk closed the door behind him, which was finalized by the click of the door handle as it latched into place.  Ian had to know, “Is every floor like this?  Because if there are, there must not be as many floors in this tower as I thought.”

“Oh, every floor is like this, but there are over three hundred floors in this tower, though not all of them are currently in use.  You see,” the clerk went on with his obviously practiced speech as he ushered Ian through what appeared to be a dining area, “this whole tower was built back in the day when the Arena was built, when the forgotten magics were still practiced and taught, so every floor is as big as you see it here, but takes up only a few feet of the actual tower vertically.  They also saved space horizontally, so instead of being a circle roughly four hundred feet in diameter, as it would appear on the outside, it’s actually more like six thousand feet in diameter.  It’s really quite mind boggling, as I can tell by your open mouth,” Ian shut his mouth, not realizing he had opened it in the first place, “and thus, we have much room for growth here at the Combat Center.”

Ian had already walked by countless tables, all carved out of the same white stone as the tower, almost as if it had been part of the same stone, for he wasn’t even sure if he saw a break between the floor and the tables, but it must have been a play of the light, for there was no way that all the furniture could be carved right in, let alone, that a whole tower could be carved out of one piece of stone.  Unless these forgotten magics were as powerful as he had heard a few say.

“Ah! Here we are!” the clerks voice brought Ian back to reality as he exited the dining area, “This is where you will be staying.”

“In a hallway?” The hallway in question was long, and had no visible doors, though it did have plenty of paintings, embellished wood carvings, and other decorations hanging off, and being part of, the wall.

“No, but this is where everyone stays as they prepare for the coming up competition,” Ian’s look must have been one of disbelief, for the clerk quickly followed up with, “I suppose I’ll show you to your room, then.”

They walked down the hallway for quite a ways before the clerk pointed and said, “Here we are!” with the happiest grin that Ian had ever seen painted on his face.

Ian followed the man’s finger, and found himself looking at a blank wall with wallpaper falling off it.  He looked back at the man.  “Really? You’re trying to pull another joke after what you did when I first came to check in?”

The man sighed, and his red-haired head sagged a little as he started to explain, “You see, we want to keep all our combatants safe, so we decided to camouflage our rooms.  Well, rather the maker of this building made it this way.  Sometimes a room is where one would not be thought to be, and sometimes a room is not where one might suppose.  It helps keep assassination attempts to a minimum.  The Arena is a hairy place, and all.  I mean, it would be even worse did we not have the resurrection magic in place.  Then we’d just have a lot of dead bodies at the end of a match, and not very many people left to fight, much less, willing to fight.” He started fidgeting with some of the curled pieces of wallpaper, pulling some, twisting others, and then drew a figure with his finger on the wall, “This way everyone has a much higher chance of survival, even outside the battles.” He smiled with that same grin as the wall opened up.

“How did you do that?”  Ian was used to magic, but this forgotten magic stuff was a little out of his area of expertise.

“Think of it as a combination.” Closing the wall, the man turned to Ian, pointing out what he did as he went along.  “Tug this one once, that one twice, twist this one a quarter turn to the right, and flick that one with your index finger, and then carve this symbol with your finger on the wall.” The symbol mentioned looked like two lines intersecting with a circle in the middle of them.  “Though, it should recognize you as its tenant and open for you when you get near.”  And with that, the clerk started to walk away.

Ian looked at the wall, still a little thrown off by pretty much everything he’d experienced in the tower thus far.  This really is a different world from the lower arenas.  “Oh! If it’s so assassin proof, what would happen if someone followed me to my room?”  Ian called out after the man.

“Impossible,” came his reply over his shoulder, not missing a stride.  “We’re invisible as soon as we entered the hallway, no one can see anyone else, and only we can see each other since I’m the clerk here.  Enjoy your night, and don’t forget to rest up.  You’ll need it!”  And with that last remark, the blue-clad man turned around, gave a short bow, and then exited the hallway.

Ian slowly turned to face the wall, pondered it for a moment, and then went through the motions as instructed by the odd man.  The door opened, and he stepped inside.

Chapter 3

To say that the room was vast would be an understatement. He had the living room the size of a small library –which was an appropriate description, since it housed many books –a kitchen with all the cooking apparatuses needed to make a small feast, and several doors into other various rooms, which he decided he would explore later, for his first priority was to stretch out on the long seat in the main room and let all the stresses of the day just drift away as he lay there.  He allowed himself a small chuckle as he realized that he had been on his back, asleep for three days, yet the first thing he wanted to do when he got to his room was lie down and just relax. 

It was a very comfortable couch, though. 

And the next thing he knew, he heard a small voice coming from inside the room.  “The time is now 80:00, and dinner is now served,” Ian looked around to find the source of the voice, finding a bluish head floating over the mantle of the fireplace mouthing the words as they came out, “Please make your way to the dining area.  And please be reminded that all forms of violence, whether magical or mundane will be dealt with harshly, this is a safe place for preparation, not a battleground, and it would be wise to remember this. Enjoy your meal, and best of luck in the battle.”  The head vanished as the message finished, leaving Ian staring at more white stone.

At least the couch wasn’t made of stone.  And with that thought, Ian hopped up, feeling right as rain, and exited his room, making his way to the dining area.  As he approached the exit of the hallway, he started, as a person appeared right in front of him.  As his breath returned to him, he remembered what the clerk had told him, wondering if anyone else had had a similar reaction, and glad that he was still invisible, and apparently intangible to anyone else, for he hadn’t bumped into anyone else along the way.  Testing his theory, he remained standing where he was as he watched person after person appear in front of him.  Not feeling anything even once, despite the dozens of people who popped into existence, he concluded that his guess was correct, and thus continued walking, humming happily as he watched the other contestants, with whom he would be locked in intense combat the following day. 

As he rounded the doorway into the cafeteria, he took a quick moment to scan the other combatants and see if he couldn’t guess what sort of mage they were.  There were plenty of robes, that was for sure, but usually something as small as what color the robe was, or whether or not they had a hood could tell you what sort of spells they favored.  Sometimes there were those who held the superstition that a certain robe color, or pattern would allow for more powerful spells, either a specific type of spell, or just in general, yet, despite Ian’s several experiments with and readings of this matter, he had come to the conclusion that it was just that, superstition, and that a robe was a robe was a robe, which made it just a personal style choice, which made it easy for Ian when he had to decide a robe.  Not only did he love the color brown, but it also was a good color for trying to blend in things.  It also hid dirt and stains really well, so he didn’t have to wash it as often as a white robe, for which he was grateful. Time washing was time not studying, and thus was mostly a waste of time in his mind.

It seemed that the current generation of magi were fond of darker colors, he could only see one or two white robes, which meant that most of the magic he would be facing would probably be from an arcane source, not from a deity or a cause from which someone got their power.  He always had a little spot in him that viewed divine spell users as lesser magi since they relied on another source for their power, instead of their understanding of magical energy, and the manipulation that happened to the energies around them, which required much training, or talent, both of which Ian had plenty.  A small smile crept onto his lips as he took a moment to feel proud of his achievements as a magus. 

It was then that the smell of the food from the kitchen hit him.  The hunger hit him immediately, causing him to double in over as his stomach apparently decided to invert itself inside him and start chewing on his backbone.  He half shuffled, half waddled to the line, which was decently long, and tried not to cry out as loudly as his belly did.

He could feel several stares on him as he stood there, hunched over.  He tried to ignore them, which wasn’t too difficult to do with the parasite that had replaced his stomach and was sucking the very life force out of him.  A few long minutes later, he was seated at a table, by himself, wolfing down his food as quickly as he possibly could, neither caring about table manners at this particular moment, nor even about what he was putting in his mouth.  It tasted like chicken, but just about everything tasted like chicken to him, so he could have been eating anything.  All that he cared about was that it was food that was going into his stomach, and it was bringing his energy back.  It was also returning his stomach to it’s rightful form and state of inside-outness.

After a quick return trip for seconds, and then thirds, which got him only one or two ugly looks from the women behind the counter, he returned to his room, ready to study up on his opponents.  He had many things to figure out for the next day.  What spells should he prepare, what sort of strategy would he take for winning points, and of course, what was he going to wear?  For this battle, there was an exception to the normal rule of no special outfits.  You see, this battle was all about winning a spot in one of the four, lower houses, and while combat technique was important, if you were horrible at fighting, but had a good following from the spectators, it was very possible that a house would take you in for the extra support.  Spectators were very important in the Arena.  The larger the spectator following, the more options a house had available to use in combat; it was almost a type of currency.

With his mind racing, and thoughts circling around in his head, Ian walked to the hallway, and down to his room, which opened up for him automatically as he came near, and then closed behind him as he settled down into the couch of his room. 

Curious about whether the room had a ME or not, Ian looked around a little, looking for the box which would contain it.  Before too much time passed by, and no luck finding the box, he figured that it would be better to not look and just ask a question.  “Would you happen to have the recordings about the contestants in the battle royale that’s taking place tomorrow?  The ones from the past few days?”

The face on the mantle came back, “Yes,” it spoke.  “Was there a particular contestant about whom you were curious?”

“Not really,” Ian rubbed his hand against the back of his head, not really sure where to start all his planning.  “Could you display a list of the contestants for me?” 

“Of course, sir.”  The head remained where it was, but a blue box appeared in the center of the living area, it had names written on it.

Ian quickly counted the names, forty-seven names, forty-eight with his own included in the lot.  “Could you read the names, show a picture of the person, and then give me some basic info on their fight with Gregory?”

“How basic, Ian?”

“I don’t have a lot of time, just give me the main types of spells they used, and if they did anything special during that fight.”

“Of course…” the ME started going through all the names as Ian reached into the cloak of his rob and pulled out his spellbook.  He started turning through the pages, making a mental note of what would be good against certain people and their spells.  With so many people, he’d have to choose a more generic approach to this battle, dealing with what he had the most likely chance of running into; there were only so many spells he could remember in a day, with all the intricate syllables and specific hand motions that needed to be used in order to draw out and manipulate his energy appropriately.  One stray movement or mixed syllable, and the spell wouldn’t work, or even worse, do something unintentional, like exploding in his face, and he wouldn’t really want to do that.

Still looking at his book, he moved his free hand and spoke the word “Zuta.”  A noise from the kitchen signified that his spell had worked.  “Make me some hot water and herbs, please.” A pump that seemed to pump water itself and some clinking dishes told him that his unseen servant had heard the request and had started his job.  A few moments, and a wonderful smell of burning cedar in the fire, later, a floating mug approached Ian as he continued his strategy-making.  With so many people it would be hard, but they were all first timers, or at least most of them were.  I’m sure some of them have failed in the past and are trying to get in, he thought to himself.

As the night wore on, it became more and more clear that these were all amateur mages, some with great talent, but not as well learned in the interaction of different magics together, nor with how magic actually worked.  Either by dumb luck or natural talent were they able to fling spells around.  There wasn’t much intelligence amongst them.  There was even one combatant who tried to throw a fireball at Gregory, and ended up having it come back at him via Gregory’s fire control and blast him for twice its original power.  Poor guy.

The hours passed by, and after several unseen servants and hot teas, Ian decided that bed was a good place to go, he had most of tomorrow to finish the rest of his strategy, but he felt as though he had a good idea for what spells he would prepare in the morning.  It was then that he remembered that he hadn’t actually found which room was the bedroom yet.  He trudged through the room, ready for sleep.

The first door he opened appeared to be a study with a desk.  Nothing too exciting here, next room.  In the following room was nothing much besides what he presumed to be a coat rack.  Yay, closets, perfect for sleeping.  Next.  In the next room he finally found for what he was looking.  A bed.  He threw himself onto the godsent blankets and almost forgot to change out of his robe for bed because the mattress was so comfortable.  After changing into pajamas –which were provided for him in the nearby dresser –he made sure to lean his staff in the corner by the door, just in case he needed it in the night, though he probably wouldn’t, seeing as the security of this place was super tight.

“Could you turn out the lights please?” He requested of the ME and fell asleep almost before he semi-realized that the lights had turned off.

Chapter 4

Ian was pleased with his clothing selection for the day.  He managed to find a brown and white robe that looked extremely sharp, especially on him; it even came with leather gloves, which fit him perfectly.  They hadn’t relaxed just quite yet, but he hoped that by the time he got into the new arena, they’d be as snug on his fingers as a jelly fig on a breadstick.  Man, those things would stick on there, and thinking about that made him hungry, but he had to remember how totally awesome he looked, so he walked by a mirror once again while he waited for the announcement that breakfast was ready.

His cool, green eyes matched the belt that he had picked out, and he hoped that the long tail of his knotted belt would bring the attention back up to his eyes.  He wasn’t quite sure how, but he vaguely remembered hearing that from someone and decided to take their advice.  He also had on brow boots which matched his gloves and his robe, and pants that he wore under the robe which were a white that contrasted nicely with the dark browns.  Overall, he was quite pleased with this, but the thing that he really liked about his outfit, was the cape he had picked out.  It had a hood built in, and the coolest part was that it was a nice brown on the outside, but white on the inside.  He definitely had a theme going on, which he thought would be good for getting the spectators that he needed.

He did a half-turn in front of the mirror, and was admiring the flow of the cape as he moved, seeing it billow through the air set off a great excitement in him.  He felt as giddy as a first year girl, who had just figured out how to make magic do her hair.  Or at least he would have if the ME hadn’t popped his face into the room announcing breakfast, at which point he ran out the door and down the hallway and was the first in line for food.  He wanted to finish as soon as he could to optimize his time usage.  He went through the line quickly, scarfing down his brick bird eggs, which weren’t nearly as hard as one would think, and was in mid-bite when a young girl, dressed in all white with Golden trim put her tray down across from his at the same table. 

“Hi! My name is Sandy, what’s yours?” Her sweet voice was happy and inviting.

Unfortunately for her, Ian had plans for day, and they probably involved blasting her to pieces in the arena.  Not that she would be dead forever, of course.  There were resurrection magics involved in the Arena for a reason, but he didn’t much like making conversation with his adversaries, so that, coupled with his plan-making gave him no other choice than to give her the silent treatment without so much as looking at her or acknowledging her existence.

He quickly finished his meal, which consisted of bacon, and some wonderfully made Tarken toast, and walked out of the cafeteria to be alone in his room.

With the doors swooshing before him, and then after him, he walked into the room and called out to the ME “What would you recommend I do, should I try to get as many kills as possible, or should I lurk around in the shadows, waiting for the end, and then trying to kill the last few when they’re all weak?”

“Well, sir, I think that the spectators would like to see as much fighting as possible, give them a good show, though, and they’ll follow you regardless of what house you manage to get into, if you manage to get into one.”

“Good point, not a whole lot of point of fighting if everyone’s running around hiding from everyone else.”  Ian put his gloved hand to his chin as he thought, and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.  “Man, do I look good or what?” he said aloud.

“Most smashing, sir.  Might I congratulate you on being the person who has spent the most amount of time in front of that mirror in one day.”  Ian wasn’t sure if MEs could be sarcastic or not, but if they could, Ian caught the hint.

“Right,” he took a few strides and sat down in the couch, “could you bring up the list of my foes, again?”

“As you wish, sir.” 

“The blue rectangle showed itself again, and Ian glanced through their names, remembering the mental notes that he had made about the different contestants and how they looked.”

It was then that he came across Sandy’s name.

“Could you bring up Sandy’s profile, please?”  No harm in doing some research on her, right?  Her blonde head appeared in front of him as the blue screen brought up her stats and image.  She had her picture taken in a white robe, usually reserved for those who got their power from a deity or cause.  So, she probably wouldn’t be too much trouble, but it would be good to know of what she was capable.  After watching the highlights of her battle with Gregory, Ian felt much more comfortable about fighting her.  She only ever used healing spells.  Something that was seriously underpowered in the Arena.  Healing didn’t matter if you were already incapacitated or unaware of the upcoming threats.  Silly girl.

She did have cute freckles, though, especially with her blond hair that was braided into two braids on either side of her head.  Whoa! Where did that thought come from?  Ian didn’t really think about girls too much, especially when there was so much magic that he didn’t know, which is why he wanted to become part of The Hundred.  Maybe during his eternal life he would be able to find a girl or two with whom he could enjoy a good, logical discussion on magic, but definitely not with a divine mage.  Ugh.  He shook his head, unable to believe that such a thought would even threaten to come into his mind.

“Could you go back to the list, please?”  He needed to get her face out his mind quickly, and refocus on his strategy, which at the moment involved being stealthy and striking at the opportune time, not really leaving himself open to attacks.  Hopefully there would be at least some foliage in which he could take cover while he tried to hide.

He looked at his staff, as it sat next to the couch in which he was sitting, the metal glimmering in the light.  It wouldn’t be long now.  He had precious few hours left until the battle would require him to be elsewhere, to be randomly teleported into the new arena.  He needed to memorize all the faces of his foes and their usual strategies so that he could know how to counter them when he faced them.

Chapter 5

The time flew by before he knew what had hit him.  The ME popped up on the mantle again, “Sir, might I recommend you get your gear ready, they will be requesting your presence in the main hall in ten minutes.”

“Thank you,” Ian took one last look at the list of names, faces, and categories he had constructed to help organize how to fight different types of mages, and grabbed his staff and a small satchel, also brown, in which he threw a few scrolls he had made quite some time ago.  They were of spells he normally wouldn’t use, but might need sometime in the future; you can never be too safe.  He glanced into the mirror, shifted his clothing around a little for the best look that he could get, and strolled out the door after making sure that his teeth were white, his hear was stylishly messy –apparently, all the ladies loved a guy with semi-messy long hair –and his gloves were tight and fitting wonderfully.  Whoever had owned the gloves before him must have had hands similarly shaped to his. He must have been incredibly handsome, as well. 

He finally made it down the hall, and to the cafeteria, where he spotted a few others ahead of him, and turning behind him saw that a few were following behind as well.  He walked down the long cafeteria, running the list of names and faces through his head, not wanting to miss a single person, lest he not know what to do should he run into them.  He was halfway through the list when he heard feet running up from behind him, and then slow to match his pace.  He glanced to the side, trying to make it unnoticeable by keeping his hair between his eyes and whoever was walking on his right.  He saw white robes and blonde hair.  He didn’t even need to see her face to know it was Sandy.  He didn’t know why, but the room suddenly got a lot warmer, and he returned his gaze to the ground, unsure of what to do.  The list had left his mind now, and no amount of coaxing would get it back.

How do I get rid of her?  He couldn’t concentrate with her around, and he couldn’t retreat to his room like he did last time, so he quickened his pace, which she matched within two paces, easily catching up.  He then stopped, pretending to look for something in his satchel.  She stopped as well.  “Anything I can help you with?” she piped out in here cheery soprano voice.

“I… uh… well, you see, I just… er.”  For some reason when she was around he couldn’t put two words together.  Why am I acting like this?  He tried to quickly calm himself and collect his thoughts.  Returning his satchel to his side, he grabbed his staff and looked at her directly for the first time, which was a mistake, for it caused his face to feel really warm.  Man is she cute!  Then, trying to find freedom to think again said, quite clearly, “No.  Go away.”

Sandy looked at him, somewhat startled.  “I was just trying to help.”  Her voice quickly turned to a dejected tone, and her bottom lip started to quiver.  “I’m sorry if I’m a little too forward, I just really liked what you did against Gregory, and thought that maybe we could team up in this match.  The others are talking about teaming up against you, so… so…” and at that her eyes started watering.

It took everything he had to not scoop her up into his arms and tell her that he was an idiot and was sorry for acting so irrationally,

(hello my peeps! how goes your day?  Hopefully your Sunday was wonderful, mine was.  A long day spent mostly writing and napping.  One of my writing buddies on NaNoWriMo.org (DnDgeekgirl) semi-challenged  me to a write-off today, and, me being the super-competitive macho man that I am had to accept.  The result? 5000 words written in a day.  Crazy, huh? I've now written enough words to be done with day 6, so I'm a few days ahead, but we'll see what the next few days hold in store for writing :).

Oh! I'm masterswordsmanlink on NaNoWriMo.org if you guys want to follow my progress.  It's pretty exciting.  I don't really have too many things set up for my novel, like a title, but you guys can recommend something if you'd like to (and even come up with a Title idea :) ).  Anyway, hope you enjoyed the read, and I'll try to see you guys tomorrow/later today :D Enjoy your Monday!)

So, yeah... double post... all the way... Don't really know what it means, though

The doctor looked over his glasses at Ian and said with a sly smile, “Ian, you’ve been in bed with no food or water for three days.  I think that, mixed with a head-rush, would be quite painful.  I assure you that my treatment fixed everything that could have been wrong with you from the battle.”  He glanced down at his clipboard as he continued, “I want you to drink at least three cups of water before you go, and eat a large dinner tonight,” Ian’s stomach rumbled at the thought of dinner, “though I don’t think you’ll need me to order you to tell you to do that.”  And with that, he stood up and walked out.

Not needing much more incentive to leave, Ian quickly got up, ignored the headache that came with his sudden rising up, took off the infirmary garments, and was reaching for his cloak, and nearly jumped out of fright when the nurse silently came back in with a tray with four cups placed on them, three brown, and one black.  He quickly donned his robe, holding his blue belt in his mouth.

“The doctor wants you to drink all of these.  The brown ones are water, and the black one is a special remedy that the doctor set up just for you.  It should give you the energy to get to your next meal since you’ve been without food for three whole days.  Take that one first.” 

“Thank you,” the words came out of Ian’s mouth as he grabbed his belt from his lips, and brought the black cup up to replace it.  The grimace on his face came quicker than the taste came to his realization.  “Ugh! What is this stuff?”  It was then that he looked down and saw the black gloop which he was pouring into his mouth.  Drawing the cup away from his lips, he set it back down on the tray.  “I’m not drinking that. No way.”

“Sorry hon,” came the nurse’s indifferent toned reply, her free hand now placed on her hip, “Doctor’s orders. At least I told you to drink it first, so you can wash it down with the water afterwards.”

The thought of drinking that sludge, even with a chaser, wasn’t very appetizing, but orders were orders, and he knew the way that the infirmary was set up, even though he’d never been there before.  Once you’re admitted, you can’t leave until you do everything that the doctor has prescribed for you to do; it was some sort of ancient magic that had been lost throughout the many years since the start of the arena.

With gritted teeth, and a renewed hunger for dinner, Ian brought the black cup of plague-tasting slop to his mouth, and for a split second contemplated waggling his fingers and making it taste like home-made chicken broth, but thought better of it, He didn’t know how the two magics would react together, and he didn’t really feel like growing a second head that day, so he took a deep breath and held his nose as he felt the slime ooze its way down his throat, where it sat, and made him feel comfortably full.

“See, now that wasn’t so bad, now was it dearie?” the nurse’s voice didn’t sound like she was patronizing him, but Ian couldn’t help but imagine it being there.  He quickly downed the three, earthen cups of water, glad for the taste of something else besides death in a cup.  After fastening his belt, and grabbing his chain-staff, he was out of the door faster than a herd of stampeding buffalo.

With the infirmary behind him, Ian ran to the nearest car station, which was only a block away, and seated himself in a small, red, teardrop shaped container with a hatch on its side.  Once inside, the container’s walls turned clear, and a voice came on.  “Welcome, Ian.  Where would you like to go today?”

“Take me home, please. I need food. And take the fastest route possible, I have three days of studying on which I need to catch up.”

“Understood,” came the voice, “would you care for any entertainment for the journey?”

Ian thought for a moment, rubbing the fringes of his robe sleeves between his fingers, before answering with “Show me the duel I was in a couple days ago.  The one against Gregory.”  He wanted to see if what the doctor had told him was true, if he really had caused a serious blow to Gregory.

“As you wish, sir.”  As the vehicle started moving and the town around him became the town beneath him, and then the town behind him, a square box showed up on the walls of the vehicle, just in front of Ian.  He immediately recognized the forested arena in which he had battled. The small clearing where he was dropped off, and on the other side of the split viewing box was Gregory, dropped off somewhere else.  Stealth and reconnaissance, were both important for this particular arena, and Gregory didn’t really have much of either, Ian had learned.  Gregory’s strategy was to blast his way through the forest, obliterating all hiding places.  The one thing he had going for him was his stamina, both physically and magically.

 He was actually one of the older arena combatants, but had never really gotten powerful enough to make the jump to the next level, but instead was held back, and over time had become the “initiator” for the new arena contestants.  Even though he wasn’t considered powerful, being one of the oldest he had become an honorary member of the Hundred- the fifth house which held the most powerful and influential arena combatants.  These mages never died, supposedly kept alive by some ancient magic, at least while they were still part of the Hundred.  There were those who lost their status through losses in the arena, or sometimes even just politics, but some of them, just a handful of these magi had been alive since the founding of the arena, or so the rumors went.

Ian shook his head as the replay of the arena came to the point where he jumped from his hiding spot and threw his chained scythe at Gregory, trying to trip him.  He winced as he watched himself get yanked by his chain straight into a fireball.  Fortunately for him, he had done some research on his opponent and found out that Gregory was a fire user, and practically never used any other kinds of spells.  With this knowledge, he had found a source of water early on, and doused himself in water.  He also amplified the fire repellent power of the water with a simple protection incantation that he had picked up in the Library just the day prior.

He remembered the small burns he got, touching his face, where the pain was the worst, seeing as he got it straight to the face.  At this point of the replay, Ian was right next to Gregory, which should have been good for Ian, since Gregory was horrible when it came to close range combat, or so the books had said, but apparently his experiences in the arena had toughened him up, for try as hard as he could, Ian could not land a blow against him.  Even when he thought a blow would land, it seemed as if an invisible force stopped his blade from striking his target.  “Some sort of spell I bet, why didn’t I think of that sooner?” Ian muttered under his breath, angry at his own ignorance in the heat of the battle.

After the initial attacks on each other, the battle slowed down a lot.  It mostly involved Ian dodging a lot of fireballs, bursting into flame behind him and causing the foliage to catch fire.  This is actually kind of boring to watch, Ian thought to himself.  Gregory would throw fire at him, Ian would dodge it, or block it with his own power, forming a shield in front of him, and then launch a sort of water attack of his own against Gregory, never really soaking him as he had wanted to do.  The process would continue for at least another ten minutes, if his recollection of time was at all present during the battle, regardless of the status of his ability to analyze things. 

“Could you skip ahead to my part? I don’t really want to watch the same thing happening over and over again, especially if I looked that terrible.”  I’ll never get the support I need to get up to the higher levels if I keep fighting like this. 

“As you wish, sir,” came the predictable response.

A ‘quick flash of the box, and the view of the battle was showing Ian, panting heavily, leaning on his staff.  Gregory’s banter came through loud and clear, and that’s when Ian watched, eager to see what he looked like.  He wasn’t allowed to wear any outstanding clothing like the higher ups were, so all of his rapport with the crowd had to come from actual ability, not flowing capes, or armor that shined brighter that the suns that orbited the plane.  He watched as the power he released during the spell caused small distortions in the viewing box, that would get a few people interested, at least. 

He continued to look on, as his arms followed the practiced pattern to release his staff into its chained form while Gregory started his own movements to cast yet another fireball.  As Gregory released his spell, just a tiny bead of fire, which, as Ian knew from first-hand experience, would explode when it reached its destination, Ian saw just how perfectly timed his teleportation was.  The screen, which was focused on Ian, showed Ian standing still, preparing his spell, and then, right as the explosion hit the area in which he was standing, unless you really were studying the image, you’d think that he was hit by the spell full force, but Ian knew that he had teleported right behind Gregory, which was off the screen at the moment.

The chain seemed to come from nowhere, but latched securely into Gregory’s flesh, and Ian enjoyed watching the smile rip off Gregory’s face as he realized he had actually been hit.  Ian’s face lit up with excitement as he watched himself rushing forward, arm poised to strike, being pulled along by his chain.  His pose was perfect, his strike rang true, and he saw the light as he released his energy into Gregory, causing what appeared to be a grievous wound.  He saw the blood on his blade, and the smile on his face as he landed, just ten feet away, dust still unsettled.  He looked like a victor.  And Gregory’s face was priceless, unable to believe that he had been hit must have caused him to put a little more juice into his next spell, for the next fireball was not just larger than any which he had previously cast, but also was also much deeper red in color.

The screen cut away as an announcer appeared, “If you’ve seen any other first timers fight Gregory before, you can tell that this new pup might turn into quite the underdog someday.  He had an amazing almost comeback, which has never been seen before.  And, I don’t know about you, Ralph, but that last trick he did, with the teleportation followed up by a swift attack might become a thing among the fans of the lower leveled duels.”

The screen zoomed out to include Ralph, the other announcer, “That’s right, Bob, but will Ian have what it takes to actually win a fight, sure he’s new and has some innate talent, but will he be able to hone that talent and use the experience that he’s been given to help him take it to the next level?  I guess we’ll just have to find out when he has his next duel in a few more days.”

“Oh, that’s right, Ralph, although, I’m not sure that duel would be the correct term to use, seeing as it’s practically a free-for-all for all the new guys.  It’ll be exciting to watch, I think Ian might have the upper hand in the upcoming match.”

“Though, if you put it like that, Bob, the others are likely to gang up on him so that he doesn’t end up winning, which would really hurt his places in the rankings.”

“You know, you have a point there, Ralph, but regardless, it’s going to be exciting, especially since the arena in which this battle royale will take place has never been used before.”

“Is that so, Bob?”

“Yup, they just finished building it, Ralph and everyone is anxious to see what it will be like.”     

“That’s right Bob, so, stay tuned in as we go over the different combatants and their usual strategies during these next four days before the combat starts.” Ralph smiled and shuffled his papers as the screen transitioned to a guy with crazy hair dancing around with a huge smile on his face, holding a package of some sort. 

“Ugh, I hate advertisements. You can turn it off now, thank you.” Ian’s voice almost startled himself, he talked a little louder than he intended, probably because he was quiet for the whole exchange.

“Of course, sir.” The wall of the floating carriage turned clear again, and Ian could see the golden and red leaves of the trees far beneath him as they traveled over the forests of Tarken.  “An observation, if I might be so forward.”

“Yes?”  It wasn’t like magical entities to give compliments, but Ian figured that he might be worthy of such a gift if it was offered, especially for his first duel.

“That bit was from three days ago.”

Ian’s face contorted as he tried to figure out what the ME was getting at.  “Yes, what does that have to do with anything?”

The ME chimed in without missing a beat.  “If my memory serves correctly, the announcer said that all the new combatants would be in the battle royale.”

Ian still wasn’t getting it.  “And?” came his snippy reply.

“Well, seeing as the recording was three days ago, and that the battle royale was four days from that, and the fact that there is a day’s prep required for any combat that happens in the arena, I think your current destination may be wrong if you are hoping to further your current career path.”

The realization hit Ian like a ton of feathers. Not just any feathers either.  Feathers from brick birds.  “Please take me to the Combat Center, will we be able to make it in time?”

“We should make it in before the deadline, but only if you make either a fast run to the center, or if you jump out as I fly overhead.”  Ian held on as he felt the vehicle changing direction and speeding up, almost perfectly backtracking their previous line of travel. 

Ian fidgeted as he sat in his transportation, unable to calm his anxiety about whether or not he’d be able to make it to the center in time.  He had an opportunity here that not many new combatants got, Bob and Ralph actually seemed to be rooting for him, which many of the spectators of his sport would take as Gospel and be rooting for him, especially those who were particularly fond of Bob, who had made more positive comments about his performance.

He also wouldn’t get another chance until next year if he didn’t make it by the deadline which was… “Could you show the current time, please?” the time showed up on the clear walls: 76:72... 28 minutes away.  If only he hadn’t told the ME to go a little faster than usual, he wouldn’t be in such a time crunch.

Just make plans as if you’ll make it, Ian had to remind himself.  Compete in the battle, finish in the top ten, get into a good arena house, preferably one that was on good terms with the spectators- though, at this point anything would be better than nothing- then he just had to get into The Hundred, then he could live the rest of his life in luxury, and not worry about life.  Compete when necessary, and just enjoy the luxuries of the Sky City.  That was the life that he had envisioned since he was small.

The scenery started to change as he flew overhead, and he would have taken more notice of the farms turning to towns which eventually grew closer, and closer together.  Finally, the walls of the city proper were visible from his vantage point.  Ian, glancing at the clock, now showing 76:93, could feel his heart start to race; knowing that he was going to be cutting it close, he chose his plan of action.  “Go ahead and drop me off at the front entrance.”

The ME’s voice spoke up, “You know I can’t drop you off directly, sir.   It will have to be a drop in for you, which isn’t really recommended, seeing as I can be no less than a hundred feet off the ground outside the loading zones.”

“Well, fortunately, the building is to which I am going is eight hundred feet tall.”  Ian looked out the window, not really paying attention what he or the ME was saying.  The excitement of the plan was already getting into his veins, and he was trying hard not to psyche himself out of doing what was necessary to get in by the deadline. 

As they got nearer to the center of the city, more vehicles became visible, and in a great variety of colors.  Some people were actually rich and powerful enough to own their own, and weren’t required to travel from place to place via the public transportation which was provided to them by the governing forces, mostly the most powerful of The Hundred. 

Finally, after what felt like a very, very long time, the center of the city was in sight.  The tower at the center of the city was standing tall, with its ring of magic floating at the center of the tower, being held up by the magic of the land.  It truly was a sight to behold, its tall, white walls, especially with the sunset and how it bathed everything in its red and orange colors.

Ian glanced back at the time, 76:96.  He was going to be cutting it very, very close.  Fortunately, there were teleportation pods inside the building at various points, so he would be able to get around easily enough once he was inside.  It was just that, though, getting inside, which would prove to be the most difficult and time consuming part of the whole ordeal. 

As the tower zoomed up, Ian prepared himself inside his little cocoon of comfort, and stability, questioning whether or not this really was necessary, or if he was just overreacting.

“We’re here, sir.” Came the ME’s voice. “I believe the phrase I should say here is ‘it’s now or never.’ Best of luck.” And with that, the hatch opened, letting a torrent of air surround Ian as he took one last look at the clock.  76:97.  “Thank you for your assistance, may you prove to be helpful to everyone who comes your way.”  And with that, Ian looked down, which was his first mistake, seeing all the people walking around, most of whom had not realized that he was stopped, hovering next to the Combat Center in a car.  A quick three count in his head, and he leapt to the nearby awning, which was only about three feet away, and five feet down, but felt like twenty, and seventy feet.  After a slightly less than soft landing, Ian sprung up, dusted himself off quickly, made sure he had his staff still in his hand, and ran off towards the closest door hoping that a pod station was nearby.

Chapter two

Ian ran up to the desk, out of breath, which surprised him, since he’d only run for about two minutes, maybe he pushed himself harder than he thought trying to get there on time.  The spectacled clerk behind the desk didn’t even look at him as he looked through papers, comparing one to the other, and then back to the first again. 

“Name and purpose?” his nasally query somewhat shocked Ian, though after a second thought, it made sense, he wasn’t as well-known as he’d thought himself to be, even with the coverage of his first duel.

“Ian Wintergrip, I’m here for the new combatants battle royale,” he managed to spurt out between gasps for air.

The man paused his paper shuffling, looked over the brim of his glasses at Ian, and then sighed.  “Sorry, it’s 97:00, past the deadline for the signups, you’ll have to wait until next year for the next royale.”

Ian couldn’t believe his ears.  “What?!” he practically strangled the man with his voice.  “I thought the deadline was at 97:00! I made it, I did!”  He stopped to catch his breath, and that’s when he realized the pursed smile that the clerk was holding and the bursts of air that were squeaking through as he raised his hand to cover his mouth.

The laughs followed shortly.  After catching his breath, the clerk continued, “Sorry, sorry, I couldn’t help myself.  Every year there’s at least one new combatant who’s running in like a crazed madman, and I always tell them the same thing, but your reaction was by far the best I’ve seen.  You don’t hide your emotions very well, do you?”

(Greetings!  Sorry for the no post yesterday, but I was pooped after work, and somewhat indisposed with car troubles and what-have-you-nots... So today, I give you... the double post! MWUHAHAHAHAHA! That's right! Double the dose of fun, in just one day of reading! how is that!? Should I use more exclamation points?! Probably not! Anyway, for anyone else who is writing epic stories of epicness, I recommend spotify and the final fantasy albums Distant Worlds. Both the first and second of these albums are simply amazing, and to top it all off, really inspiring for writing... especially if you've played them.  

Is there any video game music that inspires anyone?  My favorites would include just about anything from the Final fantasy VI game.  I hate to say it, but from my limited knowledge, I like it better than VII thus far, I haven't beaten either of the games yet, and I have gotten farther into the storyline in VI, but I have to say that the main villain feels more evil, and the characters are pretty sweet.  Also! Chrono Trigger! ZOMGsh! That music just makes me melt especially this song here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8TbmmKC2QPo  if you have ever played that game, and don't mind slightly electronic sounding music (like techno/dubstep) it's an amazing cover, imho. I could listen to it for hours on end, and it makes me sad every time it ends.  Maybe I just like the arpeggios/broken chords going on in the background.  Anyway, it's late, and I'm rambling, so that's probably a good sign to sign off.  Enjoy your extra hour of whatever you choose to do!

NANO 2012! (Or "NANO @)!@ if I'm capitalizing numbers) Day one

The sweat on his brow dropped to the ground as he stood, slightly hunched, trying to catch his breath.  His brown robe was drenched around his neck, and his hood was off to help him cool off.  Not that it did much good.  His adversary stood before him, standing as tall as ever, with that same smug smirk on his face that he always had.  Years of training had brought Ian here, to this point.  His first wizard duel in the arena of the flying city.  He was better than the rest.  He pulled his eyes from the ground to look at his opponent again. 

Gregory, the first battle in which any new entrant fought was against this guy.  And everyone always lost.  But Ian wasn’t like them.  He had studied harder and was the top of his class, spending late nights studying the various magics and how they reacted with each other.  But nothing he threw at the guy was working. 

“Are you done catching your breath, Ian?”  Gregory’s high, nasally voice, really bothered Ian, from the first time he met him.  “I can give you more time if you need, but you know that the outcome will be the same.”

Ian’s grip on his metal staff tightened. His fingers ran alongi the chains which were etched into the side of his staff as he brought up his grip and straightened his shoulders.  I guess there is one thing I haven’t tried yet, he thought to himself.  Closing his eyes and punning the flat of his hand down the length of his staff, and feeling the different notches and bumps, he muttered a quick incantation as he focused his energy into his next spell.  He opened his eyes just in time to see Gregory running at him, magical energy pulsing through him. 

From the gestures Gregory was making, it looked like a fire spell of some sort, though Ian was too focused on his spell to really pay too much attention.  Right as he muttered the last syllable of his spell, he felt heat approaching him. 

And then it was gone, he had successfully teleported himself in time and positioned himself about twenty feet behind Gregory, a giant fireball erupting behind him.  Ian’s robes settled around him as he snapped his fingers, transforming his staff into an actual chain.  He threw the four-sided spike which was attached at the end with a quick word, which roughly translated into “fly” in the common tongue, and it flew at the unaware Gregory.

It struck him in the back, Gregory winced at the new attachment to his shoulder blade, and Ian tugged on the chain, this time speaking “return,” and he felt himself being pulled to Gregory by the chain as it magically absorbed back into itself.  In the split second that he was in the air, he grabbed the other end of the chain, which had a sickle, instead of a spike, attached to it, and prepared to put not just all of his physical might into the coming blow, but also the rest of his magical reserve, hoping to end the duel in one final blow.

As he reached Gregory, momentum building, he swung out at him; cutting through his dark blue robe he could feel the magically attuned scythe easily slice through Gregory’s skin, tearing the muscle underneath.  He let all his reserve out at that moment, and felt the mini explosion as his energy mixed with Gregory’s in Gregory’s abdomen.  Dueling Wizards’ energy never mixes well, and Ian was planning on that as he finished with his attack and landed on the other side of Gregory, in the charred grass where the fireball had just been.

Ian was breathing extremely heavily now, but felt reassured knowing that he had just dealt a serious blow to Gregory, and all that was only in the last five seconds of the duel.  He was honestly amazed with himself.

Turning, he looked towards Gregory to see how badly he was wounded, but was just barely able to dodge an orb of pure fire as his gaze turned to see Gregory still standing with an irate look upon his face.  At least the smirk was wiped off his face, thought Ian, as he let another orb of fire hit him square in the chest, unable, or maybe just not wanting to move out of the way from sheer exhaustion.  Collapsing on the ground, unable to even think, Ian thought he heard Gregory saying something, there might have even been a “twerp” in thrown in there, but he was too tired to care.

When Ian opened his eyes next, he had a wonderful view of a great, big stone.  As he rolled off of his side onto his back, he became aware of the sheets on top of him, and the fact that the stone was just one stone among many others that all formed a small wall, which in turn became a building.  The gray stone set a somber mood, which was broken up by the flickering red of a fire, which Ian presumed was in what looked like the center of the building. 

He couldn’t quite tell if it was the middle since there was a white curtain in front of him, blocking most of his vision of the building, but he figured that the least he should do is check it out, since he hadn’t been here.

And that’s when he remembered the duel.  He sat up quickly, which caused a huge rush of pure pain to erupt in his head.  Grunting in pain, he slowly lowered himself to his bed, with the help of, what he assumed to be, a nearby nurse, who must have heard him rustling in the sheets and figured that he was awake.

“Shh, shhh, there there, sweetie, you’ll be alright, just take it easy,” came her soft words.

“The duel,” was all that he could utter between the grunts, which were quickly turning into a solid groan.

“Well, if you won, you wouldn’t be here, now would ya?” the nurse replied while tucking the sheets in around him.

With his hands pressed against his head, he managed to force out “And where is here exactly?”

The nurse looked shocked as she exclaimed “The infirmary of course!”

“Well, yeah, but exactly where is the infirmary?” Ian didn’t try very hard to hide the frustration from his voice as his hands plowed through his thick, shaggy, brown hair.

“It’s the east side of the island,” Came a man’s voice from the other side of the curtain-room.

“Well, he’s awake, doctor. He’s all yours.” The nurse gave a quick head-bow and quickly made to leave the room. “Ian,” came her farewell as she gave a smaller head-bow and exited the doorway next to Ian’s cloak and bag.

“Doctor?” Ian asked, his perplexed state worn clear on his face.  “Is it really so bad that I need a doctor?”

The doctor gave a small, insincere smile, more of a press of his lips, really, as he took a seat next to the bed.  “I guess you haven’t noticed yet that your left leg has been amputated then,” he finally said after a brief pause and shuffle to get comfortable.

Ian quickly pulled back the sheets in fright, not able to believe that he wouldn’t feel a difference between having and not having a left leg.

He was both relieved and upset to find his leg still attached- relieved that he had ownership of a leg that was still properly attached to his leg, and upset at the doctor and his laugh-snort that he was doing.

“You really should have seen your face.” The doctor was doubled over on the stool on which he was sitting, “most people don’t give quite a good reaction.  You don’t really care much to hide your feelings, do you?”

The doctor’s query shocked Ian.  Most people weren’t this forward, especially with a wizard.

Fortunately the doctor continued before Ian could give an answer, making his silence much less awkward.  “No, I just came in to congratulate you…”

“So I did win?” Ian’s face lit up, thinking that he had done the impossible, beating Gregory during his first battle in the arena.

“I’m afraid not.” The doctor’s face straightened. 

Ian’s face turned a little sour, as he pouted a little.

“However, I’ve never seen a first timer deal such a harsh blow to good ol’ Greg.  His insides were all torn up, and he probably wouldn’t have survived much longer than you if I didn’t get to him as quickly as I did. It’s much easier to heal someone up than to bring them back from the dead.”  The doctor’s eyes glazed over a little as he looked at something distant, “It’s a lot less messy, too.”

Ian’s face perked up a little at the realization that he had done something that the doctor had never seen happen before. 

“It’s always messy when two sources of magic battle each other.  Not only does it drain the attacked source’s power, it also…”

“Causes a violent reaction, damaging everything and anything that is directly touching that source of power.”  Ian smiled a little as the doctor stared at him, a little shocked.  “I read that book.  That’s kind of my area of specialization, well at least as specialized as a first timer can be.”

“That’s pretty impressive, Ian. Most fighters are all show and bang, with no real strategy or deeper understanding to their combat techniques.  Anyway, I think that you’re fit to go.”

Ian’s look of bewilderment accompanied his next statement, “But I was just in a bunch of pain when I tried to get up, shouldn’t I have more bed rest?”

The doctor looked over his glasses at Ian and said with a sly smile, “Ian, you’ve been in bed with no food or water for three days.  I think that, mixed with a head-rush, would be quite painful.  I assure you that my treatment fixed everything that could have been wrong with you from the battle.”  He glanced down at his clipboard as he continued, “I want you to drink at least three cups of water before you go, and eat a little extra tonight at dinner,” Ian’s stomach rumbled at the thought of dinner, “though I don’t think you’ll need me to order you to tell you to do that.”

(Kind of a slow start, but I figured it was better than nothing.  Blargh... Hopefully everyone had a fun and safe halloween.  I got to work, but I ended up watching Dracula with some friends who live nearby. It was pretty cool. Really, slow though, at least compared to today's ADHD movies, where no shot is longer than six seconds.

Let me know what you guys think, I know it's a little rough, but I'll try to go back and edit stuff if I ever actually finish a NANO XD.  Anyway, have a great day/morning/night/whatever time it is for you now.  :D  Peace off!)

Three. The magic number. I don't know why, it just is, ok? Also, ignore the fact that the second statement is a fragment... please. Thanks! :D

Before Lucy realized it, the captain had come up beside her, looking at the orange and yellow flames as they burned in the city.  "It won't be long now," he said, almost as if to himself; he then turned to her and spoke in a more direct voice, hair falling to his forehead after the sudden shift, "Lucy, I'll need to take the shuttle-bug if you can prep it for me now."  And with that, he turned and went to the lower deck.

Lucy had never known the captain to be in such a hurry, he was usually very laid back and never really gave direct orders like that.  She stood there in shock for a moment, both from the fires and from the sudden change in her captain's mannerism.  "ASAP, if you would please!" came the shout from below, jolting her to her senses yet again.

"Yes, of course!" She ran down the stairway and opened the door opposite hers.  It was here that the "shuttle-bug" - thus named because it was a small aircraft and also for its four wings, two on each side, which flapped quickly to keep the aircraft aloft - was located.  She moved all the junk-mostly just old metal scraps and tools - to the side and checked the fuel gauge.  Usually it was kept at full fuel, especially since this was the only aircraft which they owned which wasn't the actual ship, and thus acted as the escape boat should anything horrible happen to them.  Well, something that was horrible, but not too horrible.  It wouldn't do them much good if they all exploded in a giant fireball, now would it?

She quickly scanned the room for the fuel canisters, and, upon finding them, was relieved to see that they were still full.  Without so much as a second thought, she uncapped them and started draining the canisters into the fuel containers in the sides of the craft.  She had just finished fueling and checking the vehicle when the captain came into the room.

"Is she ready?"

She turned and saw him, two bags in hand, full of clothes, if the sleeve hanging out of one them was to be any sort of an indicator of their contents.  She suddenly wished that he didn't have to go; in fact, she didn't even know why he wanted to go; she had never seen him in such a state before.  He was still in his evening best, which wouldn't do well for him, especially since his chosen mode of transportation didn't have any sort of canopy, let alone a fully enveloped flight deck.  It could pretty much just hold all four of them, and that was it.

"Well, wish me luck! Oh, and if anyone asks, I was at the dance when the explosion happened."  The captain stated his last orders as he hopped into the cockpit and pulled the lever to open the hatch in the room, immediately causing the wind to rush up into the room, throwing around papers, small doo-dads, and, worst of all, Lucy's hair.  She held it back as she shouted to her captain.  "You know that thing won't make it very far!  Why do you have to leave?"

The captain just laughed and shouted as he turned on the ridiculously loud engine, "That is for me to know, and for you to find out, though, I can assure you that I am innocent of whatever they decide to accuse me of doing."  And just like that he waved, pulled another lever, and fell from the room opposite hers into the air over the burning metropolis.

Without so much as a second glance back, Lucy exited the room, pulling the lever to close the door, causing her hair to come down in a complete rat's nest, but she had other problems to worry about now.

She had no idea what she was supposed to do, how she was supposed to do it, or even if she was the one left in charge.

At that point George came down from the main deck.  "You alright, Lucy?" he asked a voice which was much nicer than his usual voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine," came her stark reply.

"We were wondering if you had any orders.  Finnian and I ain't ever been one for making orders, just taking them.  Think you could figure this out for us?"

Her voice was cool in her response, "Yeah, just give me a moment to think."

"Okay, I'll be up here with Finnian and these other guys then."  George turned to leave.

It took Lucy a second to catch on to the second grouping of people in his last statement.  She ran up the stairs.  "Other guys?"

When she reached the main deck, she saw a group of men, all dressed up in some sort of uniform.  All of them red, and, from the looks of it, military of some sort.  The usual captain's hat was a dead give-away, along with all the emblems and medals on their chests.  They were talking with George and Finnian about something, but Lucy couldn't hear the conversation over the sound of the wind.

"What's going on here?"  Lucy tried not to sound too scared as she walked towards the men, walking quickly, but making sure that she didn't look like she was rushing.

"Ah, we were just looking for your captain, miss-"  the man in uniform paused to show that he was waiting to hear her name.

"Lucy," she spat out curtly.

"Ah, yes,"  the man ignored her tone of voice, and put on the nicest smile she'd ever seen.  "We've been tasked with bringing in your lovely captain for some questioning at our headquarters located not far from here."

Lucy took a deep breath before saying what she had to say, trying to steel herself before their eyes.  "I'm afraid that my captain was at the guild hall.  He had a guild meeting tonight, and he wanted to be early tonight."

"I remember your captain never being on time, let alone early."  The officer raised an eyebrow, though still kept the same smile.  Apparently he knew the captain, for in fact, he was always late, wherever he went.

"He knew this one was going to be an important event."  She could tell that he wasn't buying it, so she threw in something extra.  "There was also a certain woman whom he was excited to see."  That changed that that military-dog's expression.  The smile momentarily fell from his face, leaving a slightly confused look, and then it returned to his face, just like a dog to its vomit.

"I see.  Well, this does change things.  I will be back in some time.  Just a few things I need to double check on when I get back," and with that, a small nod, and a hand motion, he and his guard boarded their small jet aircraft, jetbikes, she believed they were called, a relatively new technology, and flew off her deck.



(Hiya!  Sorry about the day delay, but a full day of work and being with family kinda stole my day.  Anyway, I decided to try write or die, an online app which helps with the writing process "Putting the prod in productivity" as they put it.  If you want, check it out here: http://writeordie.com/  I ended up writing 1106 words in only thirty minutes, which I think is a record or something.  If I were doing nanowrimo, that would have been over halfway done, yeah!

Anyway, I hope today's part was exciting and stuff.  Hopefully you all will have a great labor day weekend! yeah!  If you guys ever have any comments or questions, let me know, I'll be happy to answer any and all (for the most part ;) ) Laterz!)

Part two of a most epic tale

It's not like I want to yell at him, Lucy thought to herself.  He really just doesn't understand otherwise.

"Well, I guess this means that I won't be able to repair it then, huh?"  Finnian's response came out thick and slow, as it always did.

"You got that right." Lucy sometimes wondered why the captain even let him stay on the ship, but then she always remembered how good he was with making repairs to just about anything; if he could see what it was supposed to be, he could make it that way.  Too bad that seemed to be the only good part of Finnian.

"Well, I think that's enough yelling at the grease monkey," George had come around from the other side of the winch and was wiping his hands with a grimy cloth, sporting the same style of blue jumpsuit as the two of them, though his was obviously much shorter than theirs, seeing as he stood barely up to Lucy's shoulder.  "Last I heard, Cap'n wanted you down in your room getting prettied up for the Guild meeting tonight.  You know how much he enjoys having a pretty lady on his arm."  The smile that came across as he said things like this always sent a weird shudder down her spine, but Lucy had learned to ignore it.  As far as she knew, George just enjoyed getting under her skin.

 She repositioned herself into a regular standing position; she hadn't even realized that she had started leaning over in her anger, and then proceeded to walk down into the lower deck to her room.  Not that there was any other deck.  Being the only girl, she got her own room, whereas Finnian and George had to bunk together.  She fell atop her bed, glad to have repaired the pipe, listening to the hum and drone of the engine next door.  She slowly felt her eyelids close in on each other until at last they met each other in the middle of her eye, soothed by the ship's noises and movements.

It was at that precise moment that she both felt and heard the explosion.  The shudder that went through the ship was so intense that it threw her out of bed, three feet above the ground.  She managed to land on her feet, and quickly looked around, expecting to see a hole leading into the engine room and fire coming from it, but there was no such hole.  Running into the hallway, she didn't see any signs of fire at all from the engine room, so she ran up to the main deck, where she was met with orange light and her crewmates.

The flames quickly caught her attention, though they weren't where she expected them to be.  She walked over to the railing at the edge of the deck, unable to comprehend what her eyes were telling her, for there, in front of her, stood the metropolis, burning.  All of it was burning.

"I guess this means the meeting will be cancelled tonight."  The captain's voice startled Lucy; she quickly turned to see him dressed in his evening best.


(ok, so not the longest post, but a post all the same... I accomplished something today! yeah!  Oh, and go check out http://moorewriting.wordpress.com/ he's got some pretty cool stuff, especially if you like fantasy.  I feel like I'm falling behind my wife, she's already written like 6 pages in her notebook, and I've maybe written 3 or 4... oh well, mine will be more actiony ;) maybe, who knows... hope you guys are having a great one, and I'll catch ya on the flippin' side of awesomeness (it's where everyone flips and stuff) )

Lucy in the sky... with a pipe wrench

It was an exceptionally windy day.  Lucy's fiery hair flew all about her as she retested her safety harness for the third time.  The wind was pushing her around more than she was comfortable with, otherwise she would have just taken the ladder to the burst pipe to replace it.  Her dirigible of an airship was beat up pretty bad, and this definitely wasn't the first time she'd had to replace a fuel line pipe, but it would definitely be a bit more complicated with the wind billowing by.  

"At least I caught it right as it happened," she muttered to herself, "this way we won't lose too much fuel."  She watched as the gas, which was spraying out of the pipe, ascended beneath her feet; just a few more seconds and she'd be at it's level. "I'm here!" she shouted to her crewmates, Finnian and George, hoping they'd hear her before she passed by the leak, wasting more time by hauling her back up to the right position.

A few shouts from above later she felt the shudder of the winch as it stopped it's descent.  Perfect. She had stopped at just the right height. She followed the pipe with her eyes, all the way down to the stern of the hull and then back to the break.  All the other pipes had forked off and gone to their appropriate places, which was good.  If the break was in any other place, the other pipes would be at risk of breaking should the gas get on them and then freeze.  However, if it had been any further the other direction, it would have likely been inside the ship, which could have horrible consequences as well, especially with the fire that was always on in the boiler room.  She shook her head, trying to focus on the problem at hand, and not the catastrophe that could happen in the boiler room.

She reached to her belt and grabbed her lucky pipe wrench, pulling it out of the leather holder she had made for it.  She pulled the wrench up to her chest as she was buffeted by a strong gust of wind, causing her to sway back and forth in her harness turned swing.

A moment later the wind died down, and she fitted the wrench to the shut off valve right before the pipe which was broken.  She turned the wrench until she couldn't see any more gas coming out of the line, and then turned it more, just to be safe.  Any sparks when replacing the pipe could be the death of the whole crew, and she didn't want to be responsible for her death, let alone everyone else's.  She stuck her ear to the pipe, listening intently for any noise that would give a hint of escaping gas, but all she heard was the wind as the ship continued to chug through the sky.  

She knew she only had a few minutes before the water cooled off and would stop powering the engines, so she quickly grabbed the foot-long broken pipe with her wrench and unscrewed it from its holdings, and put it under her arm as she reached into her bag to grab the replacement pipe.  It was at this time that another violently strong gust of wind attacked the ship and threw her into the ship so hard that the broken pipe hit one of the water lines, and dislodged itself from the safety of her arm.  

Lucy, instinctively reached for it, but it was already too late, gravity had released her of her responsibility to bring it back aboard the ship.  At least she was ok, the safety harness was still holding her close to the ship.  She looked down, and then felt a pang of guilt as she realized that they were over a major metropolis.  "Well, hopefully I won't break too much property." She muttered to herself again, absent mindedly and returned to her work, quickly lodging the new pipe into place tightening it down with her wrench.  She carefully put the wrench back into its home and yelled back up at her crewmates "Bring me up already!  I'm gonna get thrown off the side of the ship at this point!"

She watched as the copper hull appeared to descend as she was hoisted up to the main deck.  She was greeted by Finnian's nasally voice. "Alright, let's have that pipe so we can fix it in case we have another pipe which decides it wants to go out with a bang."  He reached out his hand, which was much larger than his voice would warrant, expectantly.

Lucy unfastened her harness and held onto the railing on the side of the ship as another gust blew past.  She answered as she looked down and rearranged her blue jumpsuit, which had become quite twisted up from all the wind.  "The wind blew it out of my hand."

She looked up to see Finnian's face scrunched up as it always was when he was thinking hard.  "What do you mean the wind blew it out of your hand?  Wind won't catch something that small and heavy."

Lucy felt her face get red as her rage came on, "Well, it didn't technically blow it out of my hand, but it blew me into that jerry-rigged piping of yours that's outside the ship instead of inside, which, by the way, you said you would fix the next time we were in port, and then the pipe caught onto the water line and decided that it would rather fall to its certain demise than be on the same ship as you!"  She breathed in, refilling her lungs from that outburst, and felt the anger cause the hair on the back of her neck rise and her breathing and heart rate increase drastically.  Apparently I'm more upset about the jerry rigging than I thought.  

Nothing but silence and a blank stare came from Finnian's face.  Then a few blinks escaped, signalling that he was still alive and processing information. GAH! Sometimes it feels like the only way to get through that thick skull of his is to yell at him.

(Hiya folks!  So, not quite a continuation of the fable-esque story, there don't seem to be too many people interested in it it seems, at least, not yet.  Maybe at a later time... once I have thousands of followers! >:-D or something like that... anywho, this is part one of a story that I'm doing.  My wife and I are both writing a similar story with the same starting sentence and the same title (this time).  We both thought it was a pretty hilarious title and premise, so we decided to both go about it in our own way.  

This is my first real attempt at a steam-punk story, so any (nice) criticism would be greatly appreciated, and any other comments would be acceptable as well... possibly even encouraged.  Well, I hope that this Monday has been good for you (or whatever day you happen to be reading this, which will most likely be Tuesday or after since I'm posting at 11:26 PM XD), and I look forward to writing more interesting things for you to read later.  Peace off!  )

(well, it would appear that the one vote has it... This is such a historic moment in the saga of all that is great... a moment truly worth a thousand words... not sure if I'll write that much, but we'll see what I can squeak out before I have to go to bed.)

Ungsten reached out with his hand and felt the wood of the spear in his hand.  It was rough and felt a little old, but so did everything else in this town.  He easily found the smooth parts where people had held it previously and ran out into the street after unlocking and opening the door.

The people were just passing him now, and he looked back to the shop from which he had run to try and find his father.  Apparently the few seconds he was gone in the shop was long enough for Papa to lose himself in the crowd.  Either that or it was just difficult to see past all the flashes of blue, brown, white, and other faded colors as people ran by him in the street.  People looked back in horror, trying to run faster than the quickly approaching shadows.  It was clear that they wouldn't be able to outrun these enigmas, as they seemed to gain speed as the crowd became more and more frightened.

Ungsten wasn't one for strong language, but he still felt the bitter sting of a curse escaping his lips as he started running through the crowd, trying to get to where he had last seen his father before the shadows did.  Arms, legs, elbows, all were fighting him and his face as he tried to run almost perfectly perpendicular to the crowd.  For crossing such a short street, it felt like an eternity.  Making it to the other side was another eternity, and he had just started running toward his goal, when he felt a strong tug on his side.  He held his hands and spear between whatever was pulling him and prepared to fight off whatever the thing was that would distract him from his quest, but quickly let down his guard when he saw that it was his father who had pulled him aside.

"Don't you ever leave me like that again!" He heard his dad shout at him over the noise of the crowd.  His father pulled him deeper into the alley that Ungsten had just realized they were in.  He was quickly pulled behind some boxes, and he watched through a small hole in between the boxes as the people finished running past and the shadows flitted by.  He almost let out a gasp when one of the shadows stopped briefly to look down the alley, but his father must have sensed that he would make a noise and quickly covered his mouth with his hand and pulled him away from the peephole. 

It wasn't long until sounds of screams and blades filled the air.  It was hard for Ungsten to just sit there, especially now that he had a weapon in his hand.  "We need to go help them," he whispered to his father, which got him a long stare in return.

"What we need to do," came the stern reply, "is go home and get your sister and mother out of the house.  That is our responsibility. These people may be our friends, but your mother and sister are our family."

Ungsten could see that arguing this point with his father would have as much effect as trying to have a nice, civilized chat with a donkey.  So, when his father shifted to a nearby doorway and tested the handle, Ungsten moved just behind him, pointing his spear toward the entry to the alley, just in case anything decided to peek in on them. 

Fortunately, the door wasn't locked, and his father quickly passed the entryway and motioned for Ungsten to follow.  He entered the house, but forgot how long his spear was, and accidentally knocked down a clay mug that had been on top of one of the boxes while doing so.  His father quickly grabbed him, shoved him inside, and slammed the door shut as quietly as one can slam a door.  Another stern look told him that his father wasn't too pleased with the noise.

"We need to move quickly and quietly from here on out.  One more outburst like that, and you can find your own way home."  His fathers tone was unsurprisingly unpleasant.

It was at this point that Ungsten wasn't sure what he should do.  His father clearly wanted his help, but couldn't risk him making more noise and drawing attention to them.  There were also people to save, and it sounded as if the towns guard hadn't even been able to be rallied together yet.  What was a poor boy like him to do?

(Anyway the wind blows doesn't really matter to me.  Should he go with his father, try and find his own way home, saying that he'd meet up with his father somewhere outside town, go to help the people in the town, or something else?  I'm trying to see if I can get a poll set up with the options, but feel free to write what you'd like to see happen if it's not up :)  I hope that your week is filled with good times, friends, and a healthy dose of Truth mixed into everything.)