I'm BaaaAAAAAAaack.

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So hey guys! It's been a while so I've been on the Vine. Just stopping by for a few days.

My computer crashed a few months ago, explaining my why I haven't been popping in every few weeks. It's still crashed, but I've found LIBRARY COMPUTERS are a thing.

How old is this new layout?

ANYWAY! So onto the point: I'm going to share some of my writing with you. This is a piece I'm planning to make into a novella--it's fantasy piece about a Dark Force returning to a realm, told from four different perspectives around the realm.

Enough chat. ONTO THE WRITING:

WARNING: CONTAINS STRONG LANGUAGE AND SEVERAL ADULT THEMES

Byn Doen

“You know why they’re called Skullharrowers, right?” Byn asked from atop his mount. He was a ranger of the borders who was reaching fifty and already had stiff joints. His horses hooves ground into soft snow beneath them with a crunch and his cloak flapped behind him in an icy wind. Trees stood all around them, casting ominous shadows about them made more frightening by the clouds blotting out the sky.

“Leave the boy alone,” Cland Mayra sighed from behind him. He was in his mid thirties and already had ashen gray hair and a beard. “So he saw a comet—”

“I did see it,” Gall Thorux said. He was a boy of nineteen wearing mail that was only slightly too big for him, “and I know what it means. The Skullharrowers—”

“Are a myth,” Cland interrupted, running a hand through his hair.

Byn Doen rolled his eyes. Did they always have to be so closed minded? The warnings said that there was going to be a kind of attack unseen in any living lifetime, yet they paid no heed to it. Last time there was something like that the Pilthians attacked. It took eleven years to end the war and created the rangers of the borders like him and his companions.

“They have those stories for a reason,” he said, and cut of Cland before he could speak, “People don’t just make up things like the Skullharrowers. Allow me to ask again: Do you know how they got their names?” There was a moment of silence and Gall shivered. Whether it was from the cold or his words Byn did not know. In any case, he answered for him, “The only way to kill them,” he drew his index finger across his neck, “is to cut off their heads.”

“Stop scaring the boy,” Cland said as Byn dismounted.

Byn cocked an eyebrow. “He has every right to be scared, does he not? He saw the comet. The Skullharrowers will return. It was foretold and so it shall be.”

“How do you know?” Gall called out with a noticeable quiver in his voice. He was shaking as much as his voice was and his eyes groped for understanding, pleading for reassurance that he would be alright.

Byn smirked. “How does anybody know?” he called over his shoulder, “They say a comet heralds their return, but—” Byn felt Cland’s hand seize his wrist.

“Last warning,” Cland said, “Enough.” His voice was a harsh whisper. “If you make the brat wet his pants he’ll go crying to his father and he’ll have both our heads on spikes.”

He was right, of course. Gall Thorux was a noble sent off to the rangers to honor his father. Yet all the time he threatened anyone who wouldn’t give him the best service. There was a pen on his person at all times in case he needed to write a letter to his father. “He’ll have your head,” he’d said, “But not until the guards have had their fun with you.”

And so Gall Thorux always slept in the warmest beds and had the biggest meals. Byn scowled inwardly at his predicament. The boy had it coming, but was it worth the risk? He weighed his options.

“One more go,” he said, clapping Cland on the shoulder and wrenching his arm free. Cland made a swipe for Byn’s arm and missed by a second. Byn started across the woods for Gall. “You know what else is out there, boy?” he asked, biting back a smile, “Kratol.”

There was silence, save for the wind. “Kratol?” The boy said at last, his voice mousy and quiet.

Byn nodded. “The shadows that move,” Byn said. They like the dark—no—love it. They hide in it. They thrive in it.” He noted Gall’s hand rested on his sword hilt and his eyes were like glass orbs. His pupils flared wildly from side to side in panic. “They take the form of your shadow,” Byn continued, “and then—” he inched closer and threw his arms up in a mock- pounce, “—they strike!”

Gall tumbled backwards, caught his heel in his cloak and fell into the snow. Byn guffawed and despite himself Cland found that he was smiling. He tried to bite it back to no avail.

Gall rose to his feet, his face turning red with embarrassment. “That’s not funny,” he said, “That’s not funny! My father will have your heads for that! Both of you!”

“Really?” Cland said, brushing past the horse and inching closer, his previous worries long past, “and what will you do on your own? You need us to get you past those nasty Skullharrowers. What’ll you do when you’re all alone? Resign yourself to your death?”

Gall tried to speak but no words came out. He furrowed his brow and reached for his hilt when his expression softened. “Quiet!” he said, “What was that?”

Byn heard it, too. A low rustling in the leaves. He reached for his own hilt and saw Cland did the same.

“The-there’s something out there,” Gall said, “It’s coming for us”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Cland said.

“My father is wealthy!” Gall called out, “He has tokens you can hardly dream of! He can pay you all you wan—” Byn clamped his hand over Gall’s mouth in midsentence. “You’re a fool yet, Gall Thorux,” he whispered.

All eyes fell on the foliage ahead of them. There was a faint rustle of the leaves.

And out popped a squirrel.

All three broke into laughter, their previous quarrels forgotten. Cland wiped a tear from his eye and muttered “That’s priceless.”

Night came swiftly and the trio set up camp with a fire by a river on the outskirts of the Southernmost Borders. Gall warmed his hands by it as Cland dug into a cooked fish. It was Byn’s turn to stand guard.

“You gonna eat?” Cland asked Gall.

“I’m not hungry,” Gall grumbled.

“You sure? We got trout here. Nice, tasty trout. Of course it tastes better when you’ve caught it yourself, but—”

“I’m not hungry!” As the two squabbled Byn kept a well trained eye on the horizon. It was instinct by now, tuning out the world. It was always you and the horizon. It stretched out just beyond your reach. You could never quite touch it. You’d reach for it and it would always slip away. He knew nothing would come. He’d been a ranger for nearly thirty years and nothing ever—

Something came. Something he could not make out in the distance.

“Help me out here, Byn,” Cland called.

Without tearing his gaze from the horizon Byn said “Tell the little shit to start eating or I swear to God I’ll—”

It came out of the darkness without warning, throwing a thrust down from its rapier. Byn nearly missed the thing and barely managed to dodge its black saber. Byn let his cloak fall to the snow and withdrew his own rapier. He took his preferred fencing position. As steel clashed the grip felt good in his hand. He tried an attack—no good. He was forced back toward the frozen river and he took a quick look at his companions.

He had time for only a cursory glance, but it told him all he needed to know. Gall’s head was in the water, thin wisps of red permeating through it. The bastards had smashed his head through the ice and drowned him. He did not see Cland Mayra. The look had told him there was more than one and he made a mental note to keep his eyes peeled in case Mayra wasn’t there to watch his back.

The figure attacked, the black mail clinking beneath his heavy black cloak. Byn allowed himself a faint smile while he wondered if he had an affinity for black.

The creature forced him back and Byn let it. He would tire soon enough. All he needed was an opening. And he could wait.

Yet its attacks forced broad strokes from him, tiring him out while his opponent seemed immune to fatigue.

There was a flash of steel from behind him and the creature crumpled to the ground, its head rolling down the snowy hill to the riverbank. Cland Mayra stood over the body, chest heaving.

“How did you—?”

“Call it a hunch.”

“So Gall was—?”

“Yes.”

A cursory glance told Byn Doen that the creatures of the dark were closing in on them. They skirted just outside his vision so that he only saw shadows. He kept the fact that their movement could make them seem more than they were in the back of his mind. “To the ice,” he said.

“What?” Cland’s jaw nearly dropped in disbelief.

Byn adjusted his grip on his saber and made a mad dash. He felt like needles were pricking his sides as he stepped onto the ice and felt the water rushing underneath his feet. “Want the good news?” Byn asked.

“And what would that be?”

“We’re going to die either way.” He caught the end of the ice, pivoted and thrust his saver into the ice, cracking it. Cland did the same and the river carried the piece while both held onto their swords for dear life. Water sprayed onto his face and Byn realized he never got a good look at the thing.

He wondered if he ever would.

Falgar Penumbra

“There’s a dark power finding its way back into the world,” said the hunchback, “Some say the shadows are moving once again, if you believe that sort of thing. He poured himself a second glass of gin and added “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Falgar Penumbra was an ugly man. He had one gray eye the size of an orb and a green of regular proportions. His arms were hairy and hung down like an ape’s. His jet black hair looked like it belonged to a scarecrow. The only thing normal about him was his mouth, which seemed to be constantly twisted into a wry smile.

Alys Grace, his wife, sat across from him in their lavish living room. Antique decorations, swords, rugs and all sorts of animal heads adorned the walls. Mostly bought. Alys herself was a beautiful woman with slender legs and large breasts that Falgar particularly enjoyed. She took a sip of her own gin and cocked her head to one side. “Why would the shadows be moving?” she asked.

“Why, because of the comet, my dear,” Falgar said, “Is it not said that a comet would herald the return of the Dark Ones?

Alys put a finger to her chin and considered this. “I guess,” he said and leaned forward so that her silk clothing hung from her shoulders like drapes. “So what shall you do?”

The hunchback shrugged, “What can I do?” he said, “Just business as usual. Only now I shall have to carry a knife in my belt. Rivula is rife for the trading, my dear and I intend to bank on it.”

“Slave trading,” Alys mused, “A wonderful profession.”

“Indeed,” Falgar said, “Almost as wonderful at what you go out to do every night, dearest.”

Alys giggled. “Guilty as charged.

Falgar took one last swig of his gin and set it down, “Well, darling,” he said, “I must be off. Mantro tells me he has a wonderful batch of Vanthians coming in. To the victor goes the spoils and all that, and I do believe you have a customer coming soon so if it’s all the same to you I really must be going.”

When Falgar turned to leave Alys let her silk clothing cascade to the floor. “I told him I was a virgin,” she said.

Falgar turned around and tsked. “Naughty girl,” he said, “And always a catching line. Very clever of you.” He cocked his head to one side, “And what of the woman?”

Alys’s eyes widened, “How did you know?” she said.

“Come now,” he said casually, again turning to leave, “Walls have ears, you should know this by now. I have this entire city in my pocket. There’s no one here who doesn’t know my name! No one here who won’t recognize me,” he added under his breath, “Though I am easy to pick out amongst a crowd, “I own this place, contrary to what the politicians say.” He stopped one last time at the door. “Have fun. Be sure to split the profits and send Cat and Stev all my love.”

The trading went more boring than usual. Falgar only managed to sell two Bwalan gladiators and a Masteign whore. Still, he had to admit, he had fetched a pretty penny. He had bought and Eldeglastian warrior and a Porthcarian woman to give the man some incentive to fight. Falgar was no fool.

When the two were done, Falgar and Mantro picked their best diner. Falgar ordered a pork loin and wine while Mantro picked a steak and beer. The two ate in silence for some time before Mantro asked “How did you enjoy the auctioning, Falgar? I trust you enjoyed it?”

“It was terrible,” Falgar said with a mouthful of pork, “I can’t wait till next time. I have a well bred man of twenty three who will fetch a hefty price.

Mantro thought this over for a while, unsure of what to make of it and finally said “Your wife—how—how is she?”

“She’s doing marvelous, my friend,” Falgar said, “Absolutely marvelous. She’s off fucking,” he stopped to stare into space, trying to match the names with the faces. She had so many customers sometimes it was hard to keep track. “Your brother’s friend and your wife,” he said at last.”

Mantro choked on his wine, red droplet spewing everywhere and rivulets running down his chin. “What?”

“Oh, yes,” said Falgar, quite calmly, “I look forward to hearing about Alys’s exploits.” He took a sip of wine, and, looking over his goblet he said “She spins lovely tales, you know.”

Mantro scowled at Falgar and threw his beer in Falgar’s face. Falgar kept his eyes closed for a moment and reached for his napkin. By the time he had wiped his face clean Mantro was already storming off, grumbling curses under his breath.

Falgar cupped his hands and said “She’s probably done by now! Cat should be at your place!” Falgar chuckled to himself. The poor man had no idea. It was actually quite comical. He almost felt sorry for the bastard. Almost.

Falgar had decided to take the long way home. He walked through dark alleys in the pale moonlight, dust scraping the walls. He could hear gold pieces jingling on his belt loop and felt two heavy gold bars in his pockets. He hoped they would attract attention. Ruminating on Mantro’s actions from earlier had left him in a sour mood.

Sure enough, two thieves leapt out in the night, knives in hand. One clasped a hand over his mouth from behind and another held his blade to his chest. “Not a word,” he said, “We want your tokens. Nothing more.”

Falgar pried the hand off his mouth. “Do you know who I am?” he spat, “I own this city! Get off me!”

“Small talk for a man like you.”

Falgar grew suddenly calm. He thought he’d play their game. “A man like me,” he echoed, “You don’t know who I am, do you? You’d do better to let me go.”

“No pleading?” the first said, “No begging for your gold back?” He snatched the sack of tokens from his belt loop. Falgar smiled when he noticed two men pointing at him from the end of the alley. No doubt they recognized him, even in this dark. One of the few advantages of being a hunchback. The first continued, “What? Not gonna put up a fight.”

“No,” Falgar said, “But they might.”

The two men said not a word, but shove the thieves off of him and disarmed them. Their knives were ready to strike in an instant when Falgar shouted “Wait!” A cold smile spread across his lips. “The sack of tokens belongs to you two brave souls,” he said, “But first, they want my gold,” he withdrew the two gold bars from his pockets and gave one to each of them. He watched relief flood over the thieves faces. Relief and confusion. “Let them have it,” he said.

The two men struck the thieves with the bars and lines of blood flew from their heads as they tumbled to the ground. The men hammered down again. Again. Again. Falgar smiled.

“Keep the change,” he said.

Jyne Wisp

“Brother,” said Jyne Wisp as she played with her hair. She knew he liked it when she did that because of the way he licked his lips. She thought it accentuated her breasts, which was probably why he liked it, “Dearest brother, you know what we must do. We saw the comet. It’s on the tongue of everyone in the land. Surely you see the solution.”

Jyne was a girl of fourteen with red hair and freckles. Fair of face and mature in mind and body.

Vayan Wisp grunted as he rowed his boat toward their Island on the Rock. “And what is that, sweet sister?” he asked. He was a man of eighteen and had curly red hair and a beard with massive shoulders and eyes the size of tree trunks.

“Well, we must join the enemy. Join the Skullharrowers.”

Vayan cocked an eyebrow, “You read my mind,” he said, a smile touching the left corner of his mouth. “After all, you know why they’re called Skullharrowers. They’re impossible to kill. It would do us good to ally ourselves with them.

Jyne ran her hand along the water and plucked out a lillipad, twirling it in front of her face so that it tickled her nose. Only hours ago she had been at the Bwalan Market and it felt good to be headed home.

She stared wonderingly at her brother. He had stuck up for her at the market! It always brought her great pleasure when he did that.

Merchants had been shouting inaudibly over the noise of other merchants. Men dragged lamps along, axes in their belt loops and ready for slaughter.

She walked hand in hand with her brother, Vayan edging slightly forward to clear a path for her.

“Do we have to be here, Vayan?” she asked. She missed her home. Their little Island on the Rock. They had been living there as long as she could remember. She was comfortable there. She felt sucked into a small place here and she hated small places. She found her breath growing shallower and distantly her brother answered “Relax. We’re not going to buy anything.”

She focused on her brother’s hand rubbing hers. “I want to go home,” she said.

When she spoke Vayan whirled around, placing his thumbs on her breasts and his fingers at her sides. His thumbs massaged them. “Sister,” he said, “Just put up with this for a little while longer. It’ll be over soon. I promise you.” He laid a gentle kiss on her forehead.

They stopped at the end of the marketplace to find a circular wall blocking their way out. It was empty and just the place Vayan had said they’d be. A dried up fountain stood in the middle and dust covered stones littered the walls. “Haggar?” Vayan called into the emptiness. His voice was met with a wind that sent goosebumps on Jyne’s arms. “Don’t let go,” she muttered, “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” Vayan said, “On my honor.”

Jyne breathed a sigh of relief and then jumped when Vayan called “Haggar” again in a sharp commanding tongue.

“All right, all right,” said a voice from the darkness, “You want me, you found me.” He stepped into the light and Jyne saw a man ragged of clothes and unkempt black hair that matted his face and scalp. From beneath the bundles of curled hair Jyne caught a smile. “You called?”

“The comet,” Vayan said, and he squeezed Jyne’s hand with enough force to make her wince, “What do you know about it?”

Haggar gave a shrug, “What makes you think I know anything?” he said.

Vayan let Jyne’s hand drop and she drew it to her mouth, suppressing a squeal. She could see the rage bubbling in Vayan’s shoulders. Yet within arm’s reach of Haggar he made no move to harm him, curling his fingers instead. “I know you,” he spat, “I know you are a disciple!” Vayan shrieked “What do you know about the comet?”

Haggar fell silent, his eyes downcast and he muttered the solitary word of “Payment?”

Sighing, Vayan pressed a gold token into his hand.

“No, no,” Haggar said, pressing it back, “I don’t want money.” He thrust a finger at Jyne, who backed away, hoping the shadows would be enough to blanket her. She didn’t want to be here. She never wanted to leave her Island on the Rock. Jyne saw Vayan shrug and her heart leaped into her throat. He was going to sell her? How could he? No!

The next instant Haggar was on the floor. Jyne did not see Vayan hit him, but Haggar’s blood was dripping from his elbow and Haggar’s nose was broken. Vayan kicked him in the ribs repeatedly with a ferocity that scared Jyne. “You will not have my sister!” He grabbed Haggar by the collar and thrust him toward the wall. “What do you know?”

Haggar spat blood but did not flinch. “There’s a Dark Force returning to this world,” he said, “Skullharrowers. Kratol.” He choked his words. “The ream is going insane. Was it not winter yesterday? Yet now your precious lake has melted to give way to warm waters. We have spring in the air. Nothing is the same and it never will be again.”

Vayan released him and Jyne felt her heart drop. What did he mean? Were people going to kill them? She had heard tales of the Skullharrowers but she had always thought them a fiction.

“Let’s go,” Vayan said and he took her hand again. She noticed his free hand rested on his rapier. She did not look back the whole way to the boat.

Suddenly she was back in the boat as it thumped against the Island on the Rock. Vayan helped her onto shore. “Vayan,” she said, “You mentioned Haggar was a disciple. A . . . a disciple of who?”

“A wise and powerful man,” Vayan said, his gaze ahead of him, “His name is Mattock Albien.”

Mattock Albien

A smile touched the old man’s leathery face as he raised a goblet over his head. The congregation watched him, and his voice carried through the vast temple. “Life is like wine,” he said, “We must all taste the bitterness with the sweetness.” He pulled the goblet down and pressed it to his lips, then one hand reached for a staff. He propped himself up against it, his left foot limping as he walked toward the congregation. Gilded gold lined the walls with fake rubies and jewels. He gave the goblet to the first man he saw and said “Drink. Feel the bitterness, yet there is a sweetness beneath the veil.”

Mattock Albien was reaching the age of seventy, and still he would not die. Many were beginning to wonder if he was immortal. “There’s life in these old bones yet,” he’d say, “and as long as I’m alive, that’s what counts. Besides, it’s better than the alternative.”

“Being young,” they’d ask.

“Being dead.”

Mattock raised his arms into the air, his crimson robes dangling from his arms and said, “My brothers and sisters of the Dark Force, we have tasted bitterness for many a year. For time long forgotten our power has waned until I could no longer taste it. But now . . .” he raised his staff. There were cuff links on each end and ancient runes inscribed on it. When he raised it emerald flames shot from either end, dancing about the congregation in wild tendrils. Yet no smoke rose from the flames, and they acted as Mattock willed, “—THE POWER RETURNS!”

The congregation gasped as a single being and a few people clapped. In the corner a hooded man smiled to himself. Mattock eyed the hooded man. He did not know who he was, but he knew why he had come. He would deal with him later.

Mattock wiped the sweat from his brow and blinked it out of his eyes. He forced the emerald flames to take shape, showing the decrepit frame of an unrobed Skullharrower. It had a look as if it was covered from head to foot in heavy bruises, not an ounce of human skin showing underneath. “Skullharrowers return to us,” he said, “And the Kratol!” The flames swirled again and took the form of a being of darkness. Pointy ears with orbs for eyes. It flickered with the flame, its proportions dancing and stretching like living shadow. Mattock took a sharp intake of breath and the flames were sucked back into his staff. He thrust the staff back to the ground with a loud clang. He eyed the man in the corner, who was presently smoking a pipe, smoke rising from it in thin wisps. He gave Mattock a knowing look. Mattock closed his eyes and in a fraction of a second he perceived his thoughts.

I am waiting for you, Albien. I’ve come a long way to see you. You’ve reached legendary status in Porthca. I thought I’d see you firsthand. Meet me on the balcony when your sermon is over.

So rejoice, my brothers and sisters!” Mattock cried out, drawing out waves of cheers lapping against the walls. “The Dark Force has returned, and we should be glad! Our saviors have come back to us. Have you seen the comet? Did you see it?”

“YES!” The congregation said as one.

“Then spread the word! Tell everyone. The Skullharrowers and Kratol have returned, and humanity will bow down to them,” he closed his eyes and breathed through his nose, summoning fireworks from the end of his staff, “Or they will suffer the consequences. Go now, my kin,” he said, “Go into the world with merriment in your hearts. Go out and spread this joyous news for all to hear.”

Mattock left the congregation into the streets of Porthca, a jolt of pain riding up his right leg. He heard the hammering of a blacksmith that drowned out many others sounds, reducing them to hushed whispers. He leaned on his staff and closed his eyes, taking in Porthca in all its glory. The smell of baker’s bread fresh in the air and the wondrous sounds.

I told you I was going to talk to you, old man. A voice in his head told him. Mattock whirled around, his staff striking the hooded man’s head. He set it down just as he was about to topple over. The hooded man fell to the ground, a stream of blood lining his clothes. With his staff, Mattock forced the hood off of him to reveal a man with wild blond hair underneath. His eyes flicked about as if they were unsure what they wanted to look at. His lips were curled back in an eerie smile and though blood streamed from the side of his face he took no notice of it. Mattock knew this man would be dangerous. He would have to be wary. “What is your name, stranger?” Mattock croaked.

“Call me Caliga Aggrailia,” the man said, and he reached out with his hand. Mattock caught it, and pushed on his staff for support to pull Caliga up.

“What is it you want to know?” Mattock asked. He made sure to hunch his shoulders slightly to make himself look frail. That always worked. He closed his eyes for a simple spell of deceit.

Caliga paid no heed to his deceptions and took him by his cheeks, forcing him erect. “I know what you are, Mattock Albien. You work with a Dark Force. You bend it to your will. I saw you close your eyes when you cast those tricks. You’re an Alegai.

Mattock scowled inwardly at Caliga’s accusation. He was dangerous. He knew too much. “What do you want?”

At this, Caliga allowed a faint smile to touch his lips, “I want to help,” he said, but Mattock tasted the deceit on his tongue. He thrust his staff down and Caliga felt the vibrations. “You think you can fool me with your lies?” he shrieked, “What do you truly want?” Mattock’s shadow grew steadily bigger until it seemed to encompass all of Porthca. He closed his eyes and dreamed of stars and constellations which flitted across his spell. He could see in his mind’s eye that Caliga Aggrailia fell to his knees. “I wish to be like you!” he spat, “I wish to be an Alegai!”

At this, Mattock opened his eyes and the shadow receded, giving way to the sun’s light. A gentle snow was falling to the earth and he felt a shiver of cold. “I wish to be your right hand.” Caliga finished.

Mattock saw the truth in his words. This man was dangerous. With the knowledge of his Alegai gifts he could hand him over to the Porthcan kings. Ever since the Skullharrowers had departed years ago magic had been forbidden. He weighed his options carefully, his eyes staring emptily. He did need someone to take on his work when he was gone. He needed someone to ride long distances to send messages to the Skullharrowers. Yes. That was what he needed. He needed a manservant. A slave. And what better way to entice a willing slave than to promise him power?

The Alegai nodded, a grandfatherly smile etched into the lines on his face. “So it shall be,” he said, and again he helped Caliga up. “You will start soon enough,” he smirked inwardly, “But first I must train you in other ways. You cannot start training to be an Alegai until I am sure you’re ready.”

“How will you know?” Caliga asked as the receded back into the temple, “How will you know when I’m ready?”

“What made you decide to join me?”

Caliga smiled, “You are clever, old man,” he said, and he offered him a bow. “But first, if I may be so bold, please demonstrate your abilities. Show me your strength.”

Mattock shifted his eyes. All right. He’d play the young one’s little game. He closed his eyes and outstretched his palm to Caliga. He saw visions blink across his mind’s eye like rapid strokes of a sword. Within minutes he was done. “You had an abusive childhood, grew up on a farm and you were forced to slaughter your favorite cow as punishment for talking back. You received a beating that put you within an inch of your life and because of that you ran away from home. You’ve been wandering for seven years now trying to find the best way to make a living. When you saw the comet you knew the signs, for your father had told you all about Skullharrowers growing up. You decided you’d join the winning side—or at least in a way you perceive it to be—and thus you came looking for my temple to join me and my followers.” He stopped for a moment to savor the look on Caliga’s face. It was priceless.

“Impressive,” Caliga said, "Just one more question."

Mattock cocked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"You did it, didn't you? Only an Alegai like yourself could bring back the Dark Force."

That little shit! What did he know--HOW DID HE KNOW? He had been so careful. Years upon years upon years of planning ruined by a stupid boy. That fucker! How. Did. He. Know?

"No."

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AweSam

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Ghost!!!!! Run for your lives!

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RazzaTazz

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#6  Edited By RazzaTazz

@primepower53: Your warning is a little over the top though isn't it?

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Irishlad

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@primepower53 WELCOME BACK! even if it's only temporary :P

Can't wait to see your topic and I will get to reading your writing as soon as I can.

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@razzatazz: Meh, it might be.

I should probably edit out the obvious stuff. And shorten it. And yeah.

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RazzaTazz

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#9  Edited By RazzaTazz

@primepower53: Well I am going to assume that you don't actually put incest in your stories.

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AweSam

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How many words do you intend on having in your novella?

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@razzatazz: Maaaayyybeee.

I'll just say I don't condone it, but I have written it before.

The basic concept I'm trying to explore with this thing is "What happens when evil meets evil?" So every character in this is bad at the core (Or at least the main characters). The question I poised to a friend who asked what it was about was "Think of it this way: what happens when a murderer meets a murderer? Do they kill each other or get along?

@awesam: Well I started it this Monday and so far I've got eight thousand. I'm shooting for about thirty thousand but I won't complain if I can reach an actual novel length.

I've heard a marketable price range is fifty thousand to seventy five thousand, and I wouldn't complain if I could get that many words, I'd just need to connect the dots a bit more than I already have and give it a bit more substance.

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@primepower53: Ah ok, well just keep it relatively within the rules for posts :)

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CapFanboy

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@primepower53: Y'know TinyPrime. I'm sick of this. You go, then you come back, then you go and then you come back. Will you pick one already? MY HEART CAN'T TAKE THIS KIND OF TORTURE!

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#16  Edited By The Poet  Moderator
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@primepower53: Nice to see that you've been keeping busy, my computer just committed suicide so I'll have to read up on your stuff later. Reading on mobile sucks huge donkey--- genitals...

@capfanboy: Not gonna lie I was sure you had also left the Vine.

By the way: HATE THE NEW AVATAR WITH A FIERY PASSION!! just go back to the classic *Batlantern* already

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#19  Edited By The Poet  Moderator

@the_poet said:

@capfanboy: you have a heart?!

...Yes, made of stone perhaps but still a heart.

<3 poor cap...

oh, before I forget again: @primepower53 welcome back! (again). Haven't read the above story or the other one in the other thread, but at some point I will...

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#20  Edited By AweSam
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@awesam: I feel the same way... about you.... dundundun.

Anyways, Idunno seems like Col. to me. Calling Prime tiny, derailing threads with @the_poet, just like usual.

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Project_Worm

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@primepower53: FYI: The layout's about a month old... and it SUUUUUCKKKKS!!

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#23  Edited By Mechanical_Ape

Welcome back. In spite of this post, I'm still gone. (If anyone even remembers me...)

@primepower53

Very nice work. I read through a little bit so far and they look really good. I'd definitely love to see what comes of it. Good luck with it.

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@project_worm said:

@capfanboy: Not gonna lie I was sure you had also left the Vine.

By the way: HATE THE NEW AVATAR WITH A FIERY PASSION!! just go back to the classic *Batlantern* already

Shush Worm. BatLantern belongs in the past.

@the_poet said:

<3 poor cap...

oh, before I forget again: @primepower53 welcome back! (again). Haven't read the above story or the other one in the other thread, but at some point I will...

No! Don't welcome him back! He's a traitor! Traitooooooooooor.

@awesam said:

@project_worm: I'm still not convinced Cap is actually back.

I'm still not convinced you're 100% straight.

@mechanical_ape: Ape?! APE?! Come back so we can make old jokes!

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#25  Edited By AweSam

@capfanboy: Neither am I. I have this weird obessesion with Hei from Darker than BLACK.

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@awesam said:

@capfanboy: Neither am I. I have this weird obessesion with Hei from Darker than BLACK.

You have a problem.

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#28 The Poet  Moderator

@awesam: I feel the same way... about you.... dundundun.

Anyways, Idunno seems like Col. to me. Calling Prime tiny, derailing threads with @the_poet, just like usual.

Me? A moderator? derailing threads? I've never heard such nonsense :P

now...what was this thread about again?

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@awesam said:

@capfanboy: Do I, Cap? Do I?

...Yes.

@the_poet said:

@project_worm said:

@awesam: I feel the same way... about you.... dundundun.

Anyways, Idunno seems like Col. to me. Calling Prime tiny, derailing threads with @the_poet, just like usual.

Me? A moderator? derailing threads? I've never heard such nonsense :P

now...what was this thread about again?

It isn't your fault Poet. It's my awesome talent for derailing threads. You just got swept up in the hurricane of awesomeness.

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#30  Edited By Pyrogram

@awesam said:

@capfanboy: Neither am I. I have this weird obessesion with Hei from Darker than BLACK.

You have a problem.

You used the same line on me!

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CapFanboy

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@pyrogram: That's because you also have problems.

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@pyrogram: It's because he's trying to make everyone else think they have problems to take the attention away from his own.

So, is Prime gone already? Bye, Prime. See you in a year, or so.

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@capfanboy said:

@awesam said:

@capfanboy: Neither am I. I have this weird obessesion with Hei from Darker than BLACK.

You have a problem.

Damn Right you have a problem.... 'cause DTB is a horribly made anime with zero plot, boring characters and crappy animation... Hehe

@the_poet: No need to deny it, it's part of your greatness.

@capfanboy: And still with all that "derailing greatness", I - P to the roject, PROJECT! - Was still named "Supreme Dearailer" by Poet himself.

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@awesam: PFFT! And don't even get me started on Hei's stupid mask. Purple lightning = Purple rain? No thanks... Oh and Lee is a p*ssy!!

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AweSam

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#36  Edited By AweSam
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#37  Edited By Project_Worm

@awesam: AND MAO?! Oh my GOD!! What and annoying "pet" Puh-leease!

Nah I'm kidding. I've just really wanted a "Reaper" AV for the longest time... so I hold resentment towards you...

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@primepower53: Y'know TinyPrime. I'm sick of this. You go, then you come back, then you go and then you come back. Will you pick one already? MY HEART CAN'T TAKE THIS KIND OF TORTURE!

Glad to see you're still using that nickname, Cappie.

I think I'm now like that relative that comes around for Thanksgiving dinner every now and then but never stays for long.

@the_poet said:

@capfanboy said:

@the_poet said:

@capfanboy: you have a heart?!

...Yes, made of stone perhaps but still a heart.

<3 poor cap...

oh, before I forget again: @primepower53 welcome back! (again). Haven't read the above story or the other one in the other thread, but at some point I will...

Thanks, Poet!

@awesam said:

@pyrogram: It's because he's trying to make everyone else think they have problems to take the attention away from his own.

So, is Prime gone already? Bye, Prime. See you in a year, or so.

YOU FORGET! I'M RESTRICTED TO LIBRARY HOURS!

Which sucks

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AweSam

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@primepower53: I broke my laptop too.

@project_worm: Okay, now you'vd gone too far. Please eat the muffins I sent you.

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@awesam said:

@primepower53: I broke my laptop too.

@project_worm: Okay, now you'vd gone too far. Please eat the muffins I sent you.

Aw.

I love how everyone's talking on this thread and nobody's actually read the OP.

I'm not trying to get people to go back and read it no what are you talking about?

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@awesam said:

@primepower53: I broke my laptop too.

@project_worm: Okay, now you'vd gone too far. Please eat the muffins I sent you.

I also had my computer go full retard on me. Which is why I love having a job. I just picked up a new laptop the next day. Not bragging... yes I am...

.. What Kind of muffins?? Banana nut? Chocolate chip? Cinnamon? Banana BUTT??

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#43  Edited By Project_Worm

@awesam: Silly Sammy, I'm sure you meant boysenberry.

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#44  Edited By CapFanboy

@capfanboy: And still with all that "derailing greatness", I - P to the roject, PROJECT! - Was still named "Supreme Dearailer" by Poet himself.

And yet I still outrank you, you lowly peasant.

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@capfanboy: As if Col. you're just jealous of my far superior title. In fact, I shall henceforth be known ans "Supreme_Worm"

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#46  Edited By CapFanboy

@capfanboy: As if Col. you're just jealous of my far superior title. In fact, I shall henceforth be known ans "Supreme_Worm"

But you're still a Worm. I am the Lord and Saviour of all mankind.

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@project_worm said:

@capfanboy: As if Col. you're just jealous of my far superior title. In fact, I shall henceforth be known ans "Supreme_Worm"

But you're still a Worm. I am the Lord and Saviour of all mankind.

I will respectfully ignore your previous comment in order to bestow upon you a new far more fitting title (I understand you are not particularly fan of Col.).

Anyways without further ado I present to you, "CadetFanboy"

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#48  Edited By CapFanboy
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