Category Archives: fiction

Sun Squad – Yuppers

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Stuck in a stutter
Fear the fallen utter
Nonsense in senseless death
– The Coming of the Condemned

In the black of space, a ship fell quiet. About fifteen minutes before the sounds of shouting, running, slamming, and gunfire echoed along the hull.

I hid shamelessly. I technically passed basic combat training some ten years before flying into the black to study and never used it since. As a scientist, I didn’t even carry a stun gun.

I’d heard of pirates out in the black. People figure the law won’t find you if you fly far enough. Those people live by plundering vessels and leaving them stranded. I thought we’d been raided, so I’d just lay low until they took all of our supplies and left.

I thought it was pirates before the silence. The silence didn’t make sense.

Then a murmur started. It echoed and vibrated across the hull. It was the sound of a house fly from Earth, circling around. As the sound grew louder, I thought of a hornet’s nest. I moved towards the sound, thinking of investigating, thinking there might be a mechanical failure. I froze when I detected a human quality to the sound. It was like a word being stuttered on the same syllable over and over. Maybe it was a recording the ship’s computer was accidentally playing back, caught in a loop. Maybe there was a system failure. I backed up again, trying to be patient, resigning to wait hidden in my lab.

It wasn’t long before I grew restless again, the unnerving noise echoing around the corridors. What if it everyone was evacuated? What if I’m the only one left here? With the systems failure, heat would deplete along with the oxygen, and I knew I’d freeze before I suffocated. I’d die alone because I was a coward.

I couldn’t sit still. Maybe I could fix it. I turned away from the corridor I’d seriously considered going into and went back into my lab. I sat at a terminal easily, even in the dark I knew my lab, my home.

There was no power. How could the computer system be making those noises without power? Was only this terminal down? What about the backup systems?

I reached under and pulled off a large panel, exposing the wiring. I crawled my way in about a half of a foot to find the connections for power and flipped a switch to manually engage the backup power systems. My terminal switched on.

From the new light I could see vague shapes coming from the corridor I was standing in before. I stood and inched forward. The shapes were moving in the same stutter of the buzzing noise. The shapes looked like human figures, but the movement were jerking and repeating.

As I began to see it clearer it was like a stiff dance, forward a half step, back a half, forward a full two, back another half step… It seemed robotic, but their faces were getting close enough to make out in the dim light.

Their vacant eyes were wide and blinking in the same stuttering cadence. I recognized some of them. It was the crew and not one of them looked alive.

Single file in their eerie march they came forward, not responding to anything I said. Their minds were gone or being controlled. I looked around my lab to hide. That was the only exit. I squeezed myself into the panel with the wires in desperation. Under and inside the terminal, I pulled the panel back on after me. With their vacant stares, unseeing and unintelligent, I was hoping that they wouldn’t be able to pry the panel off.

By some luck I was right, but they didn’t leave. They mill about outside stuttering, day and night without rest. I don’t know how long I’ve been in here any more. The background noise blurs together in a meaningless cacophony. It’s possible I’ve gone mad.

If I’m still sane, someone still might find this terminal I’m tapping into from the inside out. Someone might download this log and make some sense of it.

If I weren’t facing a slow death, madness, or whatever malady has befallen my crew mates, this might have been funny. Sometimes the sound is like “yup yup yup” as if they are agreeing with me.

Doomed, “Yup yup yup,” They agree.

I know the crew is either dead or one of those things outside. I won’t leave. Whatever my fate, I won’t become one of them.

This passage comes from a recording on one of the first ships that were found. It is the first recorded encounter with The Condemned. Though the ship was also found contaminated with Type Two and Type Three Condemned, it appears that in a single case one of the crew was able to avoid immediate detection and transformation.

There was a decomposed body found in the panel below the terminal. The cause of death appeared to be self inflicted electrocution. From the estimated time of death, the woman would have long since died of dehydration, and leaving would have surely resulted in her joining her crew as one of the Type One Condemned.

From here on the Type One were known as Yuppers in reference to her log. Though suspected, this allowed us to discover that Yuppers are attracted to noise and sound, but are unable to reason or perform motor functions other than moving towards its source.

– Compendium of The Condemned

Waywards Wandering – Chapter 5: Bearing the Paladin

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I know it’s been awhile! Click here to start at the beginning of our story!

It was high noon before they finally set out from Prima, and that is where the first argument began. Deathwish still insisted that they travel through The Wastelands as opposed to the trails and towns. Kanji argued that himself and Lashea, being human, would be hard pressed to survive the extreme heat of the desert.

Forced to concede, Deathwish grew silent. They traveled along the beaten dirt road until dusk in this manner, Deathwish gruffly marching, Kanji lightly stepping lost in his thoughts, and Lashea trying hard to conceal her huffing breaths and mounting fatigue.

How can I be so tired after all of my training, she thought. Ten years all she did was study under her masters in physical and spritual development, and still it seemed to her that she was ill prepared for the road. Her anger at herself and pride kept her going, but not from asking for a much needed rest a few times that day.

They halted to set up camp at dusk just off the side of the road in front of a small stream. Lashea didn’t wait for another word beyond Kanji announcing they were stopping before she slipped her pack to the ground and slid unceremoniously beside it, laying back on the late spring grasses. Kanji shared a look with Deathwish and he nodded. They started to set up camp without her, and not a minute later she was asleep.

About an hour later Lashea awoke to Deathwish invading a dream. At first, the lizard-man’s telepathic communication blended with her battling Father Salane in the training hall. The whole temple was the audience. She was winning and the people cheered her on. Deathwish and Kanji stood by the door like in her last battle against Clavus. Deathwish kept on telling her to wake up, wake up- as if she wasn’t concentrating on the battle. She was awake! She was winning! Wake up, Lashea, wake up-

Wake up!

Finally she bolted upright realizing he wasn’t part of the dream. Night had fully fallen upon the camp, lit by a full, large moon and a campfire which sported a stick rotating in two forked sticks stuck in the ground. On the makeshift spit spun several small fish. Lashea’s mouth watered.

And here I thought there was going to be more for me. Well, since you’re awake- Deathwish threw a small pail at the still dazed woman, fetch us some water and some more firewood.

The toss was a near miss of hitting Lashea in the head to which she sputtered, “What am I, your servant?”

Oh, no, we must be yours, highness!

Deathwish gestured at the sizzling fish and Lashea felt foolish as she looked around at camp, dinner, and her dropped sack of things. Without another word or glance she grabbed the pail and made off for the stream where Kanji was fishing with his foot. He had a stick balanced between two toes and was simultaneously cleaning a rainbow scaled fish on a large, smooth rock by the riverbed. She didn’t spare him more than a glance as she went to fetch water further downstream. Her anger rose at her own ineptness. She assumed they looked on with mocking, contemptuous thoughts.

They should have woke me to help! But they didn’t wake me because they think I am weak and need the special treatment.

And maybe they are right, after all! Look at me!

Her blood boiled more with each breath. She would push herself harder tomorrow, no extra stopping, no falling asleep.

I will not fail you.

She thought of Clavus in the training hall and father Salane speaking highly of her. She thought of her Goddess untiringly helping, protecting, working for those in need. Lastly, she thought of her parents who, sore covered and sick, still only cared for what would become of their daughter as they sent her to the temple to be trained.

Kanji could not know all of this as Lashea went moodily about her chores, hauling more water than they needed back to camp and more wood than they could possibly burn in one night. He finally had to tell her to stop and come and eat before her dinner was cold. When he did, she gave him such a strange look that he could only assume it was the reaction of an overtired novice.

The next day put their feet further on the path that was the first leg of their long journey. Heel to toe they traveled along the trees, out further into the wilderness. The weather was fine but from day to day it was hard for Kanji to determine whether the moods of his companions would be or not. It is true that Deathwish and Lashea got off on the wrong foot, but it had since escalated into a dance of dark looks, testing prods, and testy people. Kanji often found himself putting his foot in his mouth after saying something that pushed the silence into snide remarks.

It was one such morning that Kanji changed tactics as he refused that things would continue like this any longer. Lashea was a part of their traveling group for the duration of the cross country trip, perhaps longer, and they needed to learn to live with and trust each other. Kanji hated to think what would happen if a group of goblins happened upon them now, so disjointed they were as a group. At the next opportunity, Kanji was determined to force these two into a real dialogue, even if it meant the loss of a few limbs or his head being bitten from his body. It was a new day, full of jibes, but hopeful.

“With his ill temper, it is no wonder why they call him Deathwish!” muttered Leena with a sneer, knowing well that Deathwish was more than within earshot.

“Well, no,” Kanji wrinkled his nose anticipating the bad smells that had become so frequent, “…actually, Deathwish is a nickname that the monks at the monastery gave him,” Kanji further gathered up his resolve and felt himself falling into memories, “It was before he obtained the amulet that allows him to communicate telepathically, so he couldn’t tell us his name.”

It doesn’t have a word in your language anyways.

Kanji beamed at the prospect of an actual conversation, rather than another argument, “The monks gave him that name because of the way he deals with a situation- without regard to the consequences on himself, only of the implications of what may happen if he does not act.”

“It was the first summer Deathwish stayed with us. There were reports of a rabid bear skirting the countryside near a neighboring village. Though the bear had not yet attacked, the villagers were panicked that he would hurt someone and infect them or their animals which they relied on for food. The monks took this news, and the petition for their help which soon followed, with calm wisdom. They planned to discuss their options on how to best handle the situation that very night.”

“Deathwish was furious at the delay. He could not fathom why the bear hadn’t been slain the second after it was reported. What if someone died or their flock became ill and died?”

“Deathwish went after the bear himself. I followed Deathwish as he left, worried at what may befall him in his zeal. I shadowed him until he finally found the bear wantonly taking out its aggression on a nearby tree. Deathwish wasted no time rushing in, sword drawn- but the bear- oh he wrapped Deathwish in a hug before he even brought his sword to bear!”

Lashea snickered at the pun. However unintentional, Kanji beamed at what he thought was storytelling worthy of bardic note.

“I did not want to interfere, but seeing Deathwish in trouble I prayed to Brihaad to slow the bear’s movements.”

“Deathwish, I yelled, draw the disease out from the bear! Cure him of his illness. And until then I think Deathwish had only thought to physically stop the bear- never considered that he could do it so easily by using his Brihaad-given abilities.”

“Even after, Deathwish did not stop at curing the bear, but insisted we take him back to the wilderness away from the village to be sure that he would no longer terrorize the villagers. He asked if I could put disable the bear with my Brihaad given magic. I thought about it a moment, but Deathwish grew impatient and punched him right in the head, knocking the bear unconscious. Without another word, Deathwish heaved him over his shoulders and started walking off away from the village. Dare I wonder what would have happened had the bear woken up during this trek. But Deathwish, he doesn’t think like that.”

Amazed at the silence that followed, Kanji figured that he had finally found a solution- until that silence was broken.

“So he’s called Deathwish because he’s the sort of moron who doesn’t think before acting and is likely to get us all killed from his lack of foresight in perilous situations,” summed up Lashea in a huff, “Great.”

Kanji groaned and put a hand to his head, frustrated but far from defeated. The noxious odor of swamp water and skunk wafted past. He wracked his brain trying to think of a way to again turn the conversation.

There was a thud to the ground and Kanji turned to see Deathwish standing, his pack thrown against the base of a tree.

“Deathwish, what are you-”

Let’s settle this, small, noisy flesh.

“Are you talking to me?”

Come on. Single combat to settle this. First blood, disarmament, or withdraw at sword point.

“You can’t be serious,” Lashea laughed putting a slender hand on a hip.

Are you afraid I’ll hurt you? I’ll make sure it’s not a disabling wound. After all, I’m not carrying you.

Lashea’s sense of humor faded immediately and she dropped her own pack to the ground, pulling free her large bastard sword with a single hand, her sinewy muscles drawing tight as she gripped it. Her eyes narrowed and she dropped into a crouch, muttering a request of blessing from Brihad.

A contest of swords only- no using powers from the Goddess.

“What are you two doing? Are you both insane?” Kanji dashed in between the two, arms outstretched to either side and sputtering, “We have a mission! We have duty and a common deity! What good can come of fighting?”

Tension took over the clearing and Lashea stared at Deathwish waiting for his lead. The silence was broken by a screech from of the path.

“Scoundrels! Feel th’ edge of me blade if ye dare get any closer!”

The three barely exchanged glances before they were off to find the source of such a proclamation. Through a stretch of trees off the path there came a clearing overlooking large field. Within the field stood a lone robed figure surrounded completely by goblins who backed away wearily as a floating sword kept whirling and darting all over, pointing at and swishing towards the monsters. It was obvious that this man was loosing his sense of calm. He was severely outnumbered.

Waywards Wandering – Chapter 4: Knowing Everything, A Screen Shot For Every Post

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AD&D Pools of Radiance screen shot
Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: Pools of Radiance (PC version) – Unlike the NES version of this game, the Commadore 64, Atari St, and PC versions allowed you to customize the character portraits and map icons. They also supported trans gendered characters. :) This dwarf is hot!

I’m changing the post format so I will be giving you a screen shot of something wonderful every post (likely a video game scene). I was dedicating whole posts to many at a time, but why not hoard them and let them trickle out so you may appreciate each one like the work of art it is?

Now continues the story of a large walking lizard and his pet monk. Click here to see all of the story so far.

– – – – –

That morning Kanji and Deathwish stood outside the temple packed for the road. They were now well rested and well fed. Father Salane was also generous enough to donate supplies and a small sum of money from the temple stores. Father Salane in turn charged that they help rid the world of its ills and watch over Lashea.

Where is she? At this rate we’ll loose the whole morning, Deathwish had begun the morning in high spirits but was fast growing irritated as his shadow grew shorter.

Kanji started to open his mouth in Lashea’s defense, but quickly stopped. Kanji could imagine that leaving home for the first time was difficult, as he remembered doing it himself many years ago. He could understand why Lashea was late, trying to say goodbye to everyone and everything she knew perhaps forever.

On the other hand, Deathwish wouldn’t understand such a comment if Kanji had made it, since he never got a chance to say goodbye to his home before being torn from it and plunged into this world. Kanji stood as Deathwish paced, silently praying to Brihaad. He opened his eyes when he finally heard the temple doors open and slam shut.

“Sorry I’m late,” huffed Lashea jogging to Kanji’s side, “I underestimated how long it would take me to pack,” On Lashea’s back was a huge, bulging backpack that looked as if it were about to rip under the strain of its contents. Packed aside it was her large sword, on top were rolled blankets, and pots and pans attached jangling at her side. From her belt she sported three large belt pouches which jangled and bounced off her thighs as she jogged up to her new companions.

“What’s that horrible smell?” she asked coming to stand by Kanji and Deathwish.

Kanji sighed and glanced at Deathwish, not even having to hear his unhappy thoughts. He then smiled at Lashea as kindly as he could manage and pointed at her back, “Um, what’s all of this?”

“They are my things, of course,” replied Lashea, confused.

“Lashea,” Kanji put on a gentle tone, “we’re going to be traveling a long way on foot. You’re not going to want to carry all of that. I’m sure there are things in there that you don’t need.”

Lashea bristled at what she interpreted as a condescending tone. She strode up to Kanji, and purposely looked down at him at an exaggerated angle being a full head taller than the monk, “I think I’m more than capable at determining what I do and don’t need. All I have are my clothes, books, bedding, money, food, eating utensils, dishes, pots, soap, hairbrush-”

Two rules: you carry it. If you can’t, you leave it behind without complaint, Deathwish turned away and started walking down the steps of the temple, his claws clicking on the stone, pulling his cowl into place.

Kanji looked up at Lashea, “Just consider how you would fight a monster so encumbered.”

Lashea merely stared at that point, brows furrowed, arms crossed, “Well, I’d put the pack down of c-”

While the monster waited for you to be ready! Speaking of monsters waiting for people to be ready, let’s get a move on, shall we?

“I’ll be back in a minute,” Lashea muttered, her face bright red with anger or embarrassment, Kanji was not sure. She turned around and rushed back into the temple. Kanji heard a chuckle coming from up above and looked up to see Clavus laughing and shaking his bald head.

“Be patient with her, you two. Remember, none of us started out knowing everything. That took some time.”

Kanji digested the irony of his words and realized they were likely aimed at the annoyed Deathwish who walked, talons clicking, back up the temple stairs. Kanji smiled and nodded at the plump priest and waited for Lashea, Deathwish remaining silent and managing to stand still.

Waywards Wandering – Chapter 3: Would Fall

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Just in case you didn’t notice, the navagation bar above now sports a “characters” tab. This is to help you to keep track of the major characters in stories. This way, even if I get sidetracked and don’t write the next part of a story for awhile, you don’t need to reread what has come before to get a refresher on who the main players are. I’ll do my best to keep it up to date.

Speaking of next parts, this is the third chapter in a novel I’m writing called Waywards Wandering. You can click here for the first chapter, or click on the Waywards Wandering catagory link above and scroll down to where ever you left off.

As always, comments are welcome! This is not a final draft by any means, so criticisms could be very helpful.

Thanks for reading!
– – – – –

Lashea Fallenwood held her bastard sword firmly with both hands in spite the slickness of her sweaty palms. Calluses had formed over the blisters that had first formed when she had been left at the temple with the monks of Brihaad many years ago.

“Are you well, sister? Would you rather we continue this when you are less tired, perhaps?” the bald, round-faced priest smiled and mocked as he circled with his mace held firm in his right hand. Lashea forced herself to ignore his comments as she knew he was trying to goad her into loosing focus.

Not this time. Lashea has been practicing, studying her master hard. She was surely beyond his tricks, even if they were tried and true in the past. Lashea allowed a small, sideways smirk to appear on her fair-freckled face.

Today is my day. The clerics will come for his wounded body.

Without giving Clavus the benefit of a reply, Lashea stepped forward and swung her heavy sword down in a mighty arc is if to cleave the middle-aged monk in two. Clavus started to move forward and to the side, to strike at Lashea’s now exposed stomach. Lashea’s smirk broke into a grin as she knew he’d fall for the bait, thinking that she was enraged and unbalanced. Lashea reversed her momentum, not having thrown everything behind that swing, and brought her sword sweeping to the side, one-handed to cut off Clavus’s advance.

But rather than strike him as Lashea has expected, the sword passed through air as the monk took to the air and leapt over the low swinging blade to kick Lashea square in the face. She fell back and somersaulted, landing in a crouching position. Blood trickled down the side of her face, bringing out the fierce green in her eyes as she glared at her master. Clavus stopped his advance to let out a light-hearted chuckle.

Lashea ran, full tilt at the apparently distracted monk, stabbing strait at his solar plexus with her oversized blade. The monk parried it aside easily with his mace and kicked out, hitting Lashea’s hand. To her credit, she did not loosen her grip on the sword. Instead she swept out her right leg hoping to trip the off balance monk.

Not only did her use of martial arts not catch her master off guard, but it allowed him to again leap over Lashea’s low blow and score another series of strikes to her already bloody face with his fists.

This time, however, her master did not come out unscathed as Lashea was able to bring her sword to bear and swing in time to place a deep gash along one of his forearms.

Sensing an advantage, Lashea let out with a series of swings and thrusts. Though her attacks were slightly slower than the monk’s dodging, it also did not allow Clavus a chance to counter-attack without risking loosing a limb. Lashea had him backing into a wall of the training hall. She hoped to back Clavus into a place where he could no longer dodge, but he surprised her by turning after one such dodge, and running at the wall and up it several steps. He spring-boarded off the wall and launched himself at Lashea with an outstretched foot. Surprised, she barely dodged the attack, not having time to bring her sword around. She retreated several paces breathing heavily.

Again they circled each other. Clavus’s arm was bleeding more freely now, but he still maintained an air of superior calm. Conversely, Lashea face sported only a few minor wounds, but she struggled to not show her excitement. Never had she scored such a hit. She felt an urge to rush in claiming victory, and yet she recognized that time was on her side as her nose bled but a bit, but Clavus’s arm would weaken him the longer they circled one another.

Lashea also recognized that any mistake would be enough for Clavus to end the fight as he had so many times before, with Lashea on the floor of the training hall and Clavus admistering the healing powers of Brihaad.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lashea saw a door open to the training hall and Father Salane, the high cleric of the temple, walked in. He was followed by a diminutive robed figure, who Lashea did not recognize.

Sensing the opportunity for an audience in high standing, Lashea, swung her sword above her head and in back of her waist one-handed, handing it off to her opposite hand. She then brought the sword back in front of her to two hands. The gesture did nothing to phase her master, if anything he seemed even more amused as a wide grin adorned his lips through the display. Lashea had expected this reaction and was not distracted by it. She allowed her display to give her momentum into a series of wild swings, linking one-handed and two-handed styles. This was a routine she had been practicing in the private of her own chambers for months, never near her master. In training she had allowed him to continue to believe she was still too weak to handle the great sword one handed for more than a few seconds. If this took her master at all by surprise, he did not show it, being there to parry, dodge, and even slip in a few attacks of his own! Still he did not score a hit either which allowed Lashea to continue with some measure of pride and keep her mounting frustrations at bay. She was beginning to tire, but was inspired to press on.

Her audience murmured at her change in style. Lashea again allowed her smirk to surface, and even indulged in another glance over towards the door as she and Clavus began to circle each other again.

Lashea couldn’t help but let her guard down a moment as she saw another figure had since entered, and he sported a thick, green tail trailing out behind him!

  * * *
 

Lashea, her humiliation complete, allowed herself to be introduced to Kanji Takimura and Deathwish, two adventurers, the former a monk of Brihad from the Eastlands. Lashea was not very tall herself, and yet the top of this monk’s head placed barely at Lashea’s neckline. Even so, he handled himself with the grace of a practiced warrior. He had also revived her after the conclusion of her mock-battle with brother Clavis, a conclusion which Lashea did not remember.

However, Lashea assumed it had not ended in her favor.

“Lashea was orphaned after the plague swept through our fair city some ten years ago. Alas, our temple was unable to save almost a hundred in that breakout,” explained father Salane a bit sadly, “Since then she has been one of our finest students, being one of the very few sisters to bear a Sword of Brihaad!”

Lashea was able to stand a bit straighter at that. It was true that very few of the holy order at all were able to handle the large bastard swords that Brihaad was often depicted holding. Even fewer were the women that could train their muscles the kind of endurance necessary to control the blade’s heavy swings for very long. Lashea had been brought to the temple as an angry, a vengeful spirit without a foe, having lost her parents to the sickness. Every other weapon they placed in her hand was often soon in too ill of a condition to use, as she broke staves, dented maces out of balance, and shattered lesser swords. When they placed the large blade in her hands she swung the sword about and nearly toppled over much to her own embarrassment. The sword forced her into discipline as she had to learn to control the awesome power of each thrust. In turn she learned to control her own wild flashes of anger with the same smoldering patience. The fires of her anger forged her fierce ability with this weapon, and it turn it taught her many things about the dual nature of justice. Just as she had to bide her time with this weapon to reap its rewards, so too would she have to wait for the right time to avenge her parents and put an end to the evils of this world, in service of The Great Protector: Brihaad. Brihaad would give Lashea the power she needed to fight the cruelties of the world.

Lashea suddenly realized in her recollection that she was staring at her sword and had not been listening to the rest of her introduction.

“This, Lashea, is entirely up to you whether or not you decide to accompany these two on their quest into the Eastlands,” Father Salane was saying solemly, “We know that it is a long way to ask you to go on your first journey, with strangers no less, but know that you would be in fine hands. These two were the slayers of the Lord of the Undead to the north in recent times, but also have been party to many great deeds to the present. Above all, they are followers of Brihaad. Kanji is a monk, meaning that he has been trained to use his body as his weapon. Deathwish here, if you look beyond his appearance is actually a paladin. Though you walk a slightly different path as a acolyte priestess, you would learn much from them, Lashea, much that we cannot teach you here in the temple.”

Lashea’s breath was stolen as she was looked at expectantly by the high cleric, a large, imposing looking human-reptile, and a small, serious monk. She was compelled to yell in affirmation and run to pack her things. Yet much to her own surprise, she protested, “What about the rest of my training? Beating master Clavis and learning more of the priest-powers of Brihaad and…”

Lashea was cut off by Salane’s waving hand, “You are more than ready. You more than demonstrated that this afternoon in the training hall.”

Yeah, you would’ve had him if you hadn’t gotten so distracted by my good looks.

Lashea suddenly drew out her sword and spun about at Deathwish’s mental communication.

I’m over here. No need for another demonstration. I think you can swing that thing around well enough for now.

Lashea’s jaw dropped as she regarded the scaled, armored humanoid waving at her and speaking directly into her mind. She then suddenly remembered herself and picked up her mouth and put away her sword. She stood up strait and nodded.

“I would be honored to accompany such fine warriors.”

Continue to Chapter 4

Bodies – Chapter 2: Relating & Unrelated

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This is the second installment of a novel I’m writing called Bodies. You can read chapter one here. Feel free to comment. This is a work in progress and any insights could be helpful.

– – – – –

Silvie had begun to read and stopped twice now. The first time her voice faded off as she stared at the girl and wondered. The second time she just lost interest and desire to recite the written words she was not sure the girl could hear.

“You love torturing yourself, don’t you?” Silvie jumped and spun around. Phil was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed around a clipboard.

“No,” Silvie snapped, “I’m just curious.”

Phil put the clipboard down on an end table and sat in the chair next to Silvie’s as if her anger was an invitation, “Do you expect her to wake up and give you answers? She’ll likely never come out of it, and even if she did, she’s likely moderately to severely brain damaged. Who knows if she’ll be able communicate or remember anything.”

“Still,” Silvie held her ground, “I’m allowed to visit her and wonder.”

“Yeah, of course, I never said you weren’t!”

“Really?” sarcasm crept into Silvie’s voice, “I talked to Bonnie.”

“I was just trying to protect you, Silvie,” Phil’s smile was as soft as his voice, “I’ve come to care about you quite a bit.”

“Well, next time you care about me so much that you want to control me, save yourself the effort,” Silvie blurted bitterly. She grabbed her book and shoved it into messenger bag, getting up to leave.

“Hey!” Phil grabbed her arm, and Silvie pulled her arm away forcefully, “What the hell’s gotten into you?”

Silvie rolled her eyes, and any guilt she felt about snapping was rushed away by righteous anger, “Feminism,” she explained as she stormed out the door.

Silvie supposed Phil would get over his ‘caring’ and stop speaking to her, which made her anger drop down into sadness as the elevator made its way to the ground floor.

“Good job, Silvie. You managed to loose a friend to defend your relationship with a girl in a coma.”

“He’s an asshole,” she explained to no one in particular as the elevator jerked and came to a halt, “Macho. Definatly not my type.”

Her actions properly rationalized, she made her way into the crisp late afternoon and down the steps wondering if Andorra’s was open.

* * *

“Man, I just don’t get women,” Phil was off work and sitting in a local pub called Bernies with his friend Matt. Phil knew the man would have nothing more sage than that to say, but it felt good telling someone his frustrations regardless.

“How can you say that?” Phil cracked open a peanut, “You’re married.”

“I thought that was the first clue that I don’t have any good advice,” Matt chuckled and leaned back in his barstool, precariously balancing with his foot on the bar.

“Don’t worry, my man, you’re off the hook. I don’t need advice, just to blow off some steam.”

“We could always go to the strip joint,” grinned Matt devilishly. Phil snorted, “Yeah, well, I wasn’t being serious anyways. Jenny would divorce me for less.”

“How would she even know?” Phil’s mouth was full of peanuts. He washed them down with his beer.

“That is one of the mysteries of the universe, Phil. She just would.”

“Huh,” Phil’s eyes wandered to the flat screen TV across the room.

“Look,” said Matt rubbing his eyes, “If you like her, just keep at it. Women are moody. Maybe she’s on the rag.”

“How philosophical of you,” Phil’s eyes never left the screen. It was a commercial for something that made people dance and he was trying to guess what it was before the commercial was over.

“Har-dee-har. No, we leave the tough thinking to you, Phil. That’s why your mom named you that. Phil the philosophical,” Matt laughed at his own joke.

“Yeah? Well, you know what your mom calls me?”

“Phht. I gotta take a leak,” Matt pulled himself out of his leaning bar-stool position by grabbing the bar and slammed down the rest of his beer before heading to the men’s room.

Phil in truth felt a bit better, but he also didn’t want to think about it anymore. Everything he did or said to Silvie was always wrong. He tried to be sensitive and caring and it somehow came off as manipulative.

Maybe I’m trying to hard with the touchy-feely approach. Maybe I should just try the classics: flowers, chocolate, dinner… If Silvie wants to make herself miserable, let her do it and get over it herself.

It’s not my problem.

Waywards Wandering – Chapter 2: Babysitting

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Here is the latest installment of Waywards Wandering- the novel I am writing. Click here to read the first chapter. To refresh those of you who are not new to our story: Kanji Takimura and Deathwish are two long-time, mismatched friends who have received a summons from their mutual friend Lial Pelung-Kionen. Kanji and Deathwish are both followers of the protector Goddess Brihaad and are sworn to a life of helping those in need and ridding the world of its ills. One obstacle in their path is Deathwish being a humanoid reptile who often unintentionally frightens others with his sharp pointy teeth and telepathic communication. Trying to get some breakfast before leaving the small city of Prima leads to an accidental tavern brawl. Our heroes may be apt at slaying goblins and the like, but winning a tavern brawl is apparently out of their league…

And now, resuming our story…

—

After a stern scolding by the town magistrate and with their purses considerably lighter, Kanji and Deathwish trudged away from their prison cells sometime that late afternoon. They were a bit battered and bruised after the brawl at the inn and terribly hungry, but otherwise unscathed. However, frustrations were beginning to consume Kanji and it showed clearly on his face and in the quick gait of his walk.

Slow down, I’m trying to keep this cowl up and my tail tucked in.


Kanji slowed and sighed.

“I’m sorry… I just was thinking, the entire time spent we incarcerated, that situation could have been easily avoided had we been better prepared. Remember back when it was you, me, and Lial? Lial and I together would very easily draw attention away from your…”

Deathwish turned his hooded head and stared at Kanji pointedly.

My charming character and ravishing good looks.

“T-that’s not what I meant, people- they just-” Kanji cut off his stuttering when Deathwish raised a scaly hand,

I know what you mean, Kanji. I also know that if we continue this journey we’ll be hard pressed with just the two of us if danger faces us. Like… say we get attacked by roving beasts in the Wastelands-

It was Kanji’s turn to raise his slight, pale hand, nearly lost in the loose folds of the robes he wore, “We’ve discussed this before. We’re not traveling through the Wastelands. It is an unnecessary risk when we can take a well-traveled road all the way to Highen-Po.”

Dangerous? How dangerous will it be when every town and city starts to expect a great, green monster coming to their town.

Kanji winced at that point.

Besides, we’ll make better time.

“If we don’t get delayed by monsters, dehydration, loss of direction, or death,” muttered Kanji sarcastically. He coughed then and quickly changed his harsh tone, “Either way, the conclusion is the same. We need help.”

But we need a warrior, emphasized Deathwish, not an extra person I need to defend. As it is, I have my arms full with you.

“Well, we could put that as a top priority if I didn’t need someone to help me baby sit the likes of you,” Kanji shot with Deathwish with a mischievous smile. They shared a laugh, meaning Kanji laughed openly and Deathwish smelled of mint leaves, the ridges around his nose wiggled, and he projected telepathic chuckles.

They chatted, sometimes more seriously, but more often easily as they made their way back to the center of town. Thankfully, no one took more than passing interest in what seemed like two robed monks, one small and talkative, the other large and silent. By the time they reached the main road, the sun was starting its descent down over the grassy hills of Prima. Finally Kanji stopped and turned to Deathwish.

“We need a new place to stay for the night, and not being the biggest of cities, we’ve used up our only obvious option,” stated Kanji.

Why don’t we just be away from this this Brihaad forsaken place and onto the road? Deathwish smelled slightly of mildew, showing his irritation.

“Leave without having even eaten, our coffers now low, and a decided need for an additional companion?”

We could get some dogs. Eat a few. Have a few fight for us in the Wastelands. They don’t cost much, they’re ferocious fighters, and a portable self-sustaining food source.

Kanji’s jaw dropped and he rose his voice in an agitated stutter before he detected the scent of mint and realized his friend had been joking. He sighed and pointed at a large, though modestly made stone structure down the road.

“There’s a temple of Brihaad here,” Kanji smiled, “and, last I checked, we were some of her most devout followers and bearers of her divine powers.”

Great, we’re going to hire another one of you?

Kanji shook his head, “No, we’re going to explain our position to the head clergy and hopefully he’ll assign someone to our charge, as well as feed us and give us a place to stay the night.”

Deathwish smelled horrible, like socks that had been worn through a bog and left in a moist place to grow, Assigned to our charge? We’re going to take on a novice priest? How will that solve our problems? The last thing we need is to watch some child!

“Rather than an overgrown reptile?” Kanji quipped, shook his head, and continued down the path to the temple. “Just trust in Brihaad, Deathwish.”

At that Deathwis nodded and was humbly silent. He knew the compassion of the lady protector, as well as her strength. Inspite his sarcasm, Deathwish truly believed that the Goddess Brihaad would help him find his path as she always had, since he had first come to this world.

Brihaad had led Kanji to him and gave him a place to stay within the walls of a house of her worship. There he was trained with warrior techniques and faith in her powers. Before Deathwish, the brothers at the Wenga monastery had said there hadn’t been a paladin of Brihaad in centuries. Priests, yes. Monks, plenty as that was their specialty in Wenga. However, a special blessing was reserved for those particular warriors of Brihaad. They were not apt with a variety of powers as were the priests and monks. However, they could heal wounds and diseases with their touch, will, and strength. Deathwish had begun by being able to make gashes shallower and fevers abate with a simple extension of will and prayer to Brihaad. Now he could heal much more major wounds and terrible diseases. He could also sense evil within a person, so that he better knew how to serve Brihaad. In addition he attained a level of mastery with his chosen weapon like a spiritual bond. This is how Deathwish was with his broadsword fashioned by his own people. It was the only thing that came with him into this world.

Deathwish missed his people very greatly, but he knew it was likely that he would never see another of his own kind again. Brihaad comforted him, gave him purpose, and he jested that she was the only ‘woman’ Deathwish felt he would ever need. Still, he knew the longing for his own kind would never abate.

Continue to Chapter 3