Improvised writing.

[Mastermind]

I just sat down in front of the computer last night to see what sort of thing I could come up with on the spot, so I started typing...here's what came out.


   In the middle of the great desert, there was a small town called Spades. Calling it a town may be an exaggeration, as it was little more than a trading post to everyone but a handful of people who called it home. As with every attempted settlement in the great desert, Spades was utterly dependant on the monthly supply train to provide it with the water, meat, and fresh greens it's inhabitants needed to extend their short lives that were the only times in which they could believe that they were somehow in control of their own destiny, although the years of living in the desert often robs one of this belief. After all, when one cannot feel the satisfaction that comes from being able to use what one has created, one might feel that the outer forces that bring in the necessities might be controlling their destiny, and there was no argument that every person in Spades would die if the supply train stopped coming.

    Lacking the soil and moisture to grow crops, the proper arms to hunt the savage desert beasts, or the location needed to attract business, Spades was a place with a single purpose: to mine the deposits of sagestone found only under the great desert. That was the only reason for a normal person to be within a hundred leagues of the great desert, aside from the human need to populate and conquer everything it lays eyes upon. It was dangerous work, although the mining was the least of it. The desert beasts were a constant source of worry, and anyone that came to the village at anytime other than when the supply train arrived was held under the deepest suspicion by the adults of the village, although they were objects of dark fascination for the children, who would always watch them from afar and their mannerisms would be similar to the stranger in question for months after the visit.

   The feeling towards the strangers is because the people that wandered the desert were very few and far between and if they always fell into at least one of four categories. There were the savage bandits that attacked the supply trains and were feared for the monstrous strength and cunning that allowed them to survive the harshness of the desert. Many of them fled into the lawlessness of the desert to escape prosecution or to try and leech off of the sizeable profit that came from the sagestone mines. The second type of desert wanderer were the Desert Mages were held as dark figures shrouded in mystery, and as with all things dark and mysterious, they were a source of terror in the villagers. If one actually took the time to talk to the mages, they would find that they were a varied people with some abnormally benevolent or malevolent individuals amongst a generally neutral base, much like the rest of humanity. They lived in the desert cliffs and sought the power of the wild wind elementals and the sandmen. The third order of person was the strangest, and no man could fathom the workings in the mind of the mad priests. These clergymen are those that have devoted their lives in an attempt to follow in the footsteps of the ancient Saint Gallen, who was lost in the desert when he ate the insanity-inducing desert fruit and returned to sanity outside of the desert before declaring himself a prophet and becoming the leader of the church's army who battled with such mysterious foresight that he changed the tide of one of the great wars and converted legions of foreigners with his skill. This success has never been repeated, but that hasn't stopped many a priest from entering the desert and destroying their mind with the fruit. These men are treated with respect and are always clothed and fed by villagers. No one knows how the priests survive in the desert, but the most popular theory is that no beast will touch an animal that has been tainted with the fruit of madness. Finally, there are the wandering warriors that are in the desert for reasons of their own and come seeking power or another ideal.

   It is a man of the final type that this story opens around, and at this moment, he is drawing close to the small town that has been so briefly described. He is tall, almost abnormally so, yet when a limb protrudes from his heavy black traveling cloak, it is very thin, and if not for his wide brimmed hat, he might look almost insectile. This is when he is observed from a distance, for upon closer inspection only the most stubborn observer would retain the opinion that the wandering warrior looked like anything other than what he was. The hilt of a sword sits beside a holster containing a revolver and the gruff portion of face visible between the hat and the bandanna covering his mouth from flying sand is not lacking in scars. Despite the sandstorm that is raging around him, he moves in a way that combines a rough grace and arrogance in his step. The distance between him and Spades is steadily reduced to a few hundred meters.

   A young Spadian by the name of Dregger is applying a coat of a foul smelling goo to the side of his house because his mother believes it will stop the house from dissolving under the constant bombardment of sand. Dregger finds the idea ridiculous; he has seen solid steel walls crumble over time from the endless sand. From what he had seen, everything would eventually surrender itself to the sand.

It's not finished, and now that I have an idea I'll be eager to finish.

[Mastermind]

Sorry for the double post, but this new load of stuff is a big one. I've been posting stuff up semi-daily at GSR, so I've gotten a heap of stuff to put here. Any constructive criticism is appreciated and know that I am not editing previous sections yet.

He rubs his eye as yet another piece of sand finds its way past the numerous layers of clothing and into his eye. As he brushes it out, he sees a black blur through the through the storm. It slowly clarified until there could be no doubt that it was the outline of a man, yet it couldn't be the scout from the supply caravan, their last visit wasn't more than a week ago, it had to be...someone new!

The boy, who's life was filled with more and more of the same, looked at the approaching figure as a starving man will look at an apple. Although they were all people of the desert, these rare visitors were always eccentric and often more than half-mad, providing some much needed entertainment for one of only five boys in the village as well as fresh outlooks on life and tales of strange and unusual sights. He stood in anticipation, waiting for the figure to come to the border fence and running, shouting, and whooping as he did.

He met the stranger at the gate and saw him closely for the first time. None of the man's odd traits decreased his appeal in Dreggers's eyes; it actually added intrigue and mystery to his figure. Suddenly realizing that his wild charge towards this man must have been against all the rules of etiquette he continuously failed to learn from his mother, he attempts to show some respect and decides to greet the stranger with his mother's formal greeting he had seen her give to the leader of the caravan (Dreggers suspected his mother fancied him, but could say nothing for sure). Clearing his throat, he straightens up and says in a voice obviously not accustomed to showing anything more than minimally articulate 'Howdyadomister?'
The man leans over and says in a voice well versed in language of the highest complexity 'I do as well as I can in a world doomed to fall into darkness. How are you faring in the workings of this play, my marionette?' Seeing the look of confusion that formed on the child's face he shook his head 'I often forget how foolish it is to ask an actor questions of a work in which he has not yet ceased performing, put that look away, I only ask that you direct me to your leader, as I have an interesting tidbit they would no doubt love to hear.' As this is said, it is important to emphasize that in the great desert, insanity is as common in a person as blue eyes, and Dreggers was only confused due to the complexity in this person's speech.

His assumption of the oddity of the stranger confirmed, Dreggers redirected the conversation on to the next piece of information he wanted to address, what to call this wanderer.  "Who are ya, mister?' he asked.
   Th man seemed not to notice the change in topic spread his arms as if speaking in front of a great crowd and with a distant look in his eyes, he announced 'I am the king of nothing, the bringer of oblivion, the harbinger of the darkness that will soon swallow this world.'
'Dark ain't swallowin nothin mister. Least, I've never seen it do that. Only thin' that I seen that'll destroy erythin's the sand.' the boy said, recalling his earlier thoughts on the matter. He felt something very odd as the man spoke, but he found the feeling strangely familiar.
   'Ah, I can see we have another believer in the inevitable oblivion, although our theories on the method differ. I have seen the dark swallow many a friend, and I have no doubt that the sand has done the same to you.' he looked closer at him and Dreggers felt suddenly self conscious and brushed some of the sand off himself awkwardly. After a moment or two, the man continued 'I think I like you, boy. I hate most folks, so take that as a good thing. But I have told you of my identity and yours remains a mystery to me...would you be willing to clarify the mystery for me and tell you who you are?'
Dreggers, who had not realized that the man was getting at until he simplified his speech at the end of the sentence, nodded and said  'I'm Dreggers, least that's what me folks named me...I ain't got a fancy title like yours...what should I call you?'
   The man knelt and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder 'I am indeed glad that you  recognize the meaninglessness of your title bestowed on you before your parents could know anything of your true nature, as for your question, I occasionally go by the name Vincent. And I do believe that my information will mean nothing unless it is given soon, so I ask you to guide me to the one who has proclaimed himself the leader of this place.' He then rose and Dreggers, sensing the urgency of the message, wordlessly led Vincent to the mayor. When they arrived, Vincent calmly asked the mayor to gather the villagers, and the mayor, who felt the same feeling Dreggers did, only it filled him with fear and so he complied without question. The men of the town (except for the mayor and the pastor) could not be reached, for they were in the mines to the west, but before an hour had gone by the women and children of Spades sat before the King of Nothing and he began to speak.
   'I have news of great import, in my travels, I have seen desert bandits of great number, but few groups contained the quantity of those I witnessed not a day ago. We had a difference of opinions, them and I, and we fought and I killed several of them. They fled, but were filled with rage as they did so. I fear that they will take this rage out on the first settlement that they see, which will no doubt be this place. Even as I speak, they are surely coming from the west. If you wish to live, I suggest you flee from here, for you cannot defeat them.' After he finished, the strange power of his voice lifted form the assembled villagers and  they began to speak in terror of the bandits and the fact that they were sure to reach the mines soon. They soon decided, against Vincent's advice, to all take weapons to the miners, who were the only ones adept at any form of combat. Vincent once again counseled against it and volunteered stay with anyone who trusted him . Dreggers stepped forward and said that he would go, expecting much of the village to follow, yet none of the others had felt the strange attraction that he had to Vincent, only fear. And so it was that Vincent and Dreggers helped the villagers pack and watched them leave. It was only after the last of them had vanished from sight that Dreggers seemed to realize the enormity of what he had chosen to do and attempted to run after the others, yet Vincent stopped him.
Tear growing in his eyes, Dreggers tried to shove Vincent out of the way, crying 'Why can't I go with them? I don't want to be left alone here!'
   But the gunslinger stood fast, and said 'You have no weapons to bring. The only reason you would follow would be to die. Normally, I would allow you that option, yet I can feel that you are meant for more.'
Dreggers pounded his fists on the side of a building and screamed 'Why won't you let me die? That's everyone I've known leaving! That's my way of life!'
   Vincent looked coldly down at him 'That is the way of life that was forced on you. I offered each and every one of them the key to a life with nothing, without rules, without laws, without fear. One by one, they chose to die rather than live a different life, except for you. You chose life, you saw the bars of your cage, even if you didn't realize what they were, and you allowed me to set you free. You can leave now if you wish, but know that you were the only one who could see oblivion, the only one who didn't decide to give up the only thing worth having, the freedom to live as you please.'

Dreggers surged forward once more, and now Vincent did not stop him. Smoke began to rise above the sand to the west. Dreggers screamed once again, the horrible wail of one who can see his life burning before his eyes, leaving...what? He stopped, tears streaming from his face. There was a great emptiness inside him, and no matter how he screamed, how he cried, his yells would not echo in that emptiness, tears would not fill it. He could not fill it, but now he could see it for what it was. It was the sand, it was the darkness, it was the inevitable end to everything. He could not feel sorry for his friends, they had gone into the endless sand knowing exactly hat they were doing. They vanished, leaving nothing behind, yet this nothing was more than the life he had had. He could now choose, he had the freedom to choose, either to let the nothing consume him with his friends and family, to see if together they could fill an endless void, or he could deny the darkness, to seize the life he had, to cover the emptiness, to rule it, to become 'The King...of Nothing.' he breathed, his tears drying on his cheeks.
   Vincent stepped forward 'That's right, feel it, remember this feeling and never loose it. Seize it and come with me, together we can show the world the nothing of which we are kings.' He pulled the cloth from his mouth and looked at the setting sun, falling into the ever raging sands, dying them with all the blood it had seen from the lands beneath it, covering he land with all it's cover before it, along with the land, was swallowed by darkness. In this darkness, two figures stand, unafraid of anything, the Kings of Nothing.



   Dreggers stopped and looked back, Vincent had suddenly ceased his pace and turned  to look at the blur growing on the horizon.
'What is it?' he asked, trying to see if there was anything different from the past hours. Almost as soon as he had decided to give up his old life, he had begun to change the way he spoke to a mix of his former drawl and Vincent's smooth, flowing tongue.
   Vincent pointed at the horizon 'I had forgot to give you a crowning worthy of a king. They took your old life, I think I will use them as an offering.'
Dreggers looked at Vincent and said 'That's not necessary, I don't need anything.'
   This earned a rare chuckle 'I know, but to truly be a king, you must be able to handle anything the world can throw at you, and here's your scepter to direct you power.' a revolver was tossed and Dreggers nearly dropped it.  He looked at Vincent, wanting to ask bout it, but the gunslinger had drawn another gun and the look in his eye commanded silence. It was another lesson, he needed to be able to keep himself alive, and that's something no one else could teach.
   Vincent then disproved this theory by stating. 'Take your time, aim, never miss, never underestimate your opponent, never overestimate yourself. Give your power respect, you can sentence others to oblivion, feel the current in the dark, the sand, it is the path you must walk if you wish the stay in existence another day. If you lose the path, close your eyes, look inside, be ready to feel your shell crack, to feel pain, but know that you will not leave it until you know the time is right.'
Dreggers obediently closed his eyes and was surprised to find that this path was not merely spiritual. It was as if his eyelids were transparent, but the world was crumbling away before him, and he realized that Vincent had given him a priceless gift when he had handed this gun to him. It took the veil away from the world and he could see how it could so easily take his own life, he could see the chaos from beyond entering the world. Vincent stood amongst the darkness fearlessly, although Dreggers was not hardened enough not to be terrified. He understood that part of Vincent's soul, his very self was in this gun, and he realized that a mass of death was coming relentlessly towards them, and was frozen in fear.
   Vincent stepped over to him, placed a hand on the gun, his presence restoring order to the chaos, and said 'Remember, as long as you live your life free, you need not fear the end.'
Dreggers gasped, he had not realized he had been holding his breath, he stood straight, looked at the oncoming bandits, and as he did so, he felt above them, he was beyond their comprehension, he was royalty and they had not the power to take it from him, for he walked with a man who feared nothing.

Onward rode Gebitt, towards the man who had dared to make a fool of him. From the moment he killed his father, Gebitt promised himself that he would never be beaten again. He had committed countless crimes and built an army in the great desert, one of the harshest places on the face of this miserable world, he was powerful. Gebitt knew his purpose for living, he was destined to rule the world. From a very young age, he knew he was different from others, better. Others felt bad about stealing, he knew he deserved whatever he took, they wouldn't hurt an unarmed man, let alone women and children, he tortured all of them for fun, they were worthless before his greatness. They had dared to put him in jail; he had taken the warden's prized six year old daughter hostage, then made him watch as he defiled her. Other wouldn't do things just because they thought those things were 'wrong', he knew he could do no wrong, because he determined what was right. Now, this man had dared to make a fool of his army, killing men that Gebitt was using, he would be slaughtered like the village that had dared try stop him when he had taken one of their women for his own. He were nothing, Gebbit would kill him, make him endure death's cold embrace, the ultimate threat.
   Here he was, waiting for the inevitable, with a small boy. He would drink the fear and pain in their eyes, yet neither of them seemed afraid. Impossible, everyone feared death. His great voice sounded, commanding his men, pawns really, they would be killed when he was finished with them, to surround the two. They didn't move, they were afraid! That was it, they were petrified by fear. He commanded his horse forward and looked closer into the two's eyes, looking for fear that seemed to elude his gaze. Damn them!Where is their fear? The man radiated coldness that pierced to his core, as if the man was death himself. Gebitt spoke again, putting confidence in to his voice saying 'Now, don't ya regret angren' a man like me?' The man laughed! He dared to laugh, he would die! 'Kill them!' he ordered, and then things started to happen. None of the men were moving forward, as if the man's presence had petrified them. The man turned to him and spoke 'You should have picked stronger willed followers, they crumble like dust.' then lifted his gun and shot carefully into six terrified faces. No one moved, Gebitt struggled to overcome the ice that seemed to be spread throughout his whole body. This demonic figure, he cannot be of this earth!
The man slowly reloaded, ignoring them and talking to the boy. 'Weak of body, weak of mind, they cannot hold themselves in the presence of a king.'
This drove Gebitt over the edge, and he seized his sword and grabbed the boy, holding the blade to his throat. 'I AM THE KING! I WILL RULE THE WORLD! I AM ABOVE ALL OF YOU!' He screamed 'If you don't want this boy to DIE, put that thing in yer mouth and blow yer fukin' head off!'
The man stood there, as if he didn't care! He was just looking at the boy, that was it, the boy, feel his fear, feed off it, make the demon man pay. The boy looked back at him, looking at Gebitt without fear, unfeeling. Gebbit once more felt the ice in his bones as the boy's gun entered his mouth, then the boy's bullet sent Gebitt falling to the ground, where it would soon be covered by sand, just like everything else.

Dreggers watched as the other bandits scattered, and then looked at Vincent and said  'You didn't take any of the paths.'
   'I didn't have to.' came the reply, it was enough.
The two walked for a couple more hours and then Dreggers asked the question that had been bothering him for a while 'What are we going to do now? I mean, I know you may have wandered this desert for years, but you must have had a purpose.'
   Vincent said nothing for a few minutes and just when Dreggers had decided that the question as not worth answering, the answer began slowly 'There is no...need...for a purpose, but my wanderings have indeed been interior workings in a larger plan, I think...' he paused and looked at Dreggers before continuing 'I think your appearance in my tale signals the end of my stay in this desert. Before we leave, however, you must learn to defend yourself without my help. I will teach you, but I will not be kind.'
'I do not expect you to be.' Dreggers said, containing his excitement. 'When shall we start?'
'Now.' The single word seemed to come from all directions at once and Vincent's cloak fluttered to the ground, the man no longer inside of it.  Dreggers rushed to the cloak with a gasp of surprise, only to find a pouch of bullets and a small note written in small, clear handwriting lying beneath it. Vincent had asked him before if he had learned to read and Dreggers had told him that he had. The note was very short, consisting of two words: 'Ten Days'. Dreggers stood and looked about, but he was alone, completely alone.

The sun began to peek over the horizon, and Dreggers quickened his pace towards the distant cliffs. If he could not get in their shade soon, he would not only have to face the merciless heat, he would also be without cover to hide from the desert beasts. The sand here was much looser than the ground around his village, and making any headway took massive effort, more so if one was trying to gain speed. The effort began to take a toll even on Dreggers, who was a very energetic child and his droughts from his waterskin became more and more frequent, as drinking water freely is the best option in the desert. Many a man was found dead of thirst with a full waterskin. He had also placed a pebble under his tongue soon after he had started on his training, and was glad he had done so, for he did not feel nearly as thirsty as he would have. The cliffs were little under five hundred meters away when the spirit appeared. It shimmered in the light, making it much harder to see. Most of the stories of spirits are told of their attacks at night, because more people are able to see them when their luminosity is visible, and therefore there are more survivors of their nightly attacks. Luckily for Dreggers, this spirit was not part of a pack, and when it swooped close to him, it was upwind, and so he turned to see what had caused the sudden cession of the sand's bombardment, only to utter a growl and grab at the revolver. Before he could fire, however, the spirit realized that it had been noticed, and released a blast of wind magic that sent Dreggers flying backwards. He tries to recover, but the ghostly being has swooped in far too fast for Dreggers human reflexes. It's claw descends, and touches Dregger's leg. The boy clenches his teeth as the feeling leaves his leg and is replaced by a mind numbing blackness that starts to spread through his body. He rolled over and looked at the spirit, who was still sucking his life from him and remembered Vincent's words from before the battle 'Give your power respect, you can sentence others to oblivion, feel the current in the dark, the sand, it is the path you must walk if you wish the stay in existence another day.' He drew the gun   and aimed, taking his time to align the shot. Darkness clouded his vision, but he breathed steadily and calmly pulled the trigger. The spirit let loose an unearthly howl and released him, and Dreggers fled, going as fast as he could, for he knew that his foe was too powerful for him to survive another such pass. His former exhaustion was tenfold now and he was stumbling over his own feet as he ran towards the cliffs. He had hit the spirit close to it's nose, it's primary sensory organ,  so it was nearly blind, but released a sandstorm in the direction it knew it's prey had gone. The wind hit Dreggers and propelled him upwards and into the cliffs, but his short flight ended as his head glanced off a rock and reduced him to unconsciousness.

Pain, blackness, the spirit, what was going on? Dreggers opened his eyes slowly, he was lying in a small alcove in the cliff, he could see the sunlight shining through, but it was pink, was it sunset already? He crawled over to the entrance and found that the wind must have blasted him farther upward than he would have thought possible. And the sun was low in the sky, but because it was morning, not dusk, he must have been out longer than he thought. His little cave was about ten meters off the ground; he must have been blown in here after he shot...the gun! He turned frantically and looked to the back of cave and was surprised when he found that he had been lying on a small mat near where Vincent's sword was leaning on the wall with another small note pinned to the hilt, saying 'This weapon will train your body, your mind is developed enough for now. Try going up.' It was reassuring to know that Vincent was watching him, even if he wouldn't help in a situation as dire as the previous day's. He then puzzled over the second sentence in the note until he realized that he could not find a way to climb down the cliff face. He stowed the sword in his belt and gathered his pack, which was lying in front of the sword, before attempting to ascend the vertical rock face. He was a boy used to flat sands, and not much of a climber, but he found that the opening of the alcove extended upwards in a vertical fissure a little bit wider than himself, and he could see that using this fissure would make for a much simpler climb. However, in order to get into this fissure, he would have  to climb around the entrance on the cliff face, a feat not for the weak at heart. Once again, he peeked out from the opening of the alcove, but what had merely seemed like a view before now seemed like a death trap. Muttering words of self assurance, Dreggers called up all the courage he could muster and placed his foot on a small protrusion in the cliff. Then he slowly began to edge himself upwards, fighting the vertigo in his stomach, trying to hold on to the lack of fear. Being calm had been so much easier when Vincent had been in front of him, but that was the point of this venture, to learn to survive on his own. He steeled himself and placed one foot into the fissure, keeping his balance without a significant handhold, trusting his life to less than two inches of rock. He grabbed the side of the fissure with both hands, causing his torso to swing out into open space of a heart-stopping moment before he pulled himself inside. In other circumstances, he may have felt some claustrophobia at entering such a small space, but any claustrophobia that came was insignificant to the acrophobia of a few seconds ago. Now he slowly began to push himself upwards, trying to ignore the bits of rock poking him through his clothes. It took an agonizingly long time to go anywhere, but the fissure luckily reached all the way to the top. About two meters from the goal, part of the fissure came loose and his foot slipped off the side for a moment, causing him to slide down about a meter before he could regain a suitable hold. He cringed at the stinging abrasions  that the rough sides had given him, but he was glad that he was otherwise unharmed. This feeling vanished as soon as he made his first move upwards. The burning feeling was momentarily relieved, but the source of this short relief was one of the worst things that could have happened: a hole in his waterskin. Cursing, he moves up a little more recklessly, trying to reach the top while there was still some water left in the skin and before the leak coated the sides of the fissure and made him slip again. He reached his destination and quickly placed the skin down to stop it's leakage. It was too late, there was only a residual moisture left. He threw it as far as he could, and as he did so, marveled at the incredible view. The sandstorm that had surrounded him his whole life was below him; he saw it as waves flowing beneath him. Others would have compared it to the sea, but Dreggers' experience with bodies of water was nonexistent. He stood in wonder at the sun's uncovered glory and as if to mimic it, he disrobed himself, letting the sodden clothes lie in a heap as he felt the sun on him. It was as if he had been born again, or rather, the rebirth that had started when Vincent had appeared now reached a new height. He stood on the edge of the cliff, the height meant little now, and released a wordless yell filled with unidentifiable emotion, it was beyond words power to describe the experience. He turned back to the matter at hand, happy, regardless of the misfortunes that had befallen him. And so it was that a King of Nothing was born above a sea of sand with a call of passion given to the blazing sun.

[Mastermind]

End of prologue, start chapter 1:

   'Reminiscing?' Nicoli asked, startling Dreggers from his reverie. He looked around at the small forest glade where their group had set up camp and rubbed his head.
'A little.' he replied, 'I was just thinking about how far I've come. It's put me in an odd  mood.'
   'It must have, you never seem to want to talk about the past. Will your mood finally allow your ever so secret story to grace my unworthy ears?' This was said in Nicoli's usual condescending tone, but Dreggers noted the genuine curiosity in his voice, he hadn't realized he'd been so secretive about his past.
'It's a long story, but if I had to sum it up, I'd have to say that I was a normal person until four years ago a man saved me from a terror that consumed my family and brought me into a sort of apprenticeship. He was powerful beyond belief, and we traveled together for about a year until we reached the edge of the great desert, my native land, and then I left him, saying that I wanted to become strong enough to travel with him without weighing him down. I went north through the forest and arrived in the kingdom of Solido, where I met you and we've traveled together for the past three years.'
   'You make it sound so easy, yet we almost killed you when we found you claiming to be royalty. You were an arrogant little git, back then. Is that how this mentor taught you to act?'
'I just mimicked how he acted...he was powerful enough to let him act however he wanted, but when I talked like that, all my fear went away so easily. I suppose after a year of just the two of us talking like that, I had forgotten how to talk differently.' he suddenly turned as Nicoli's words registered 'And you make our first fight sound completely one-sided, I almost killed you and I knocked Devin out. I would have beaten you if Arron hadn't woken up.'
   
   He looked over where the rest of the group was gathered around the fire. Including himself, there were five of them, this little band of freelancers. He had been invited in because of his fierce nature and unique fighting style, but it had been a while before he realized he fit in perfectly here. Everyone was a loner with someone they were training to beat. Nicoli and Devin had started the group when they has been defeated by a mysterious figure that called himself 'The White Sultan' who was later discovered to be one of the ten members of the 'Numini', a group that had been almost caused the grand empire to fall before defeat caused the Numini took their separate ways and went into the shadows where their dealing were whispered of. Their travels led them to encounter Arron, arguably the strongest member of the group, who had a grudge against the Emperor himself, and agreed to join them if they would assist him in his battles. After they encountered Dreggers, they assaulted a village where one of the emperors four guardians was said to be, but when they engaged the  person claiming to be the guard, they found that it was actually a young woman who was posing as such an important figure in order to take advantage of the village's hospitality towards the Emperor and found that she had been betrayed by a general of the Imperial army and had vowed that she would defeat the man in battle, her name was Miran, and she was the fourth group member.
   
   After they accepted Dreggers,  they had traveled the land, engaging in such activities as assaulting imperial trading ships in  the Boralian Sea to challenging monks who were masters of the ancient fighting style of Ketachu. Each of them had grown immensely and decided to put their skills to the test by going to the dark wastelands of the west to engage some of the fiercest species of beasts around. The five of them all had grown into formidable fighters of very different sorts: Dreggers was a experienced tracker and could easily vanish in almost any terrain where he would use his gun to take on his enemies or to surprise them with his sword, Nicoli was a master of deception and used the art of silent killing to take his opponents unawares, Devin was a sort of tamer who had various beasts that were sealed in his body that he would call upon and fight alongside, Arron was a master of a self developed fighting style that mixed sorcery and the use of an odd shaped weapon Arron called a 'shan', Miran was a mace wielder that also used throwing knives and wire to demolish foes. While they rarely fought together, on the rare occasion they united they were a force to be reckoned with.

[Menaus]

+1 rep to whoever actually read all of that

[Mastermind]

I did...

[Bartvo]

"End of Prologue, Start of Chapter 1:"

Wait a sec, are there gonna be EVEN MORE CHAPTERS???!?!!?!?!! Really, when it's done, try sending it to a book publisher, maybe it'll get sold for some nice money.

[Mastermind]

I might, but it'll need some serious editing.

   Dreggers got up and moved over to the fire. There was a panther-like creature roasting above it. Only Arron  had had a decent education, so most of the animals they ate, they did so without much knowledge of the creature, as Arron was not usually very descriptive about anything other than than the edibility of the creature and Devin, who seemed to know of every animal, delighted in keeping them in the dark.
'Is this any good?' he asked, looking around, not really caring who answered.
   'Bit chewy, but good.' Said Arron. It was odd, Arron looked like a typical scholarly debater, yet unless he was in a rare mood, he was so succinct it felt like an effort to get him to talk at all sometimes. When he wasn't listening to whatever the others were talking about, he would often look off into the distance with a haunted look. Ever since the Empire had taken the southwestern territories decades ago, acts of cruelty common among the Empire's innermost cities were also found in once peaceful villages causing many sad stories like Arron's, although the details of his particular tragedy had not been elaborated on. The Empire had begun it's corruptive path after a revolution by a group of war-mongers had overthrown the reasonably fair, although in no way outstanding, former emperor with the help of three of the Numini. The leader that had been placed on the throne, a man named Galteius, had almost immediately took the public's mind off of the shift in power with a series of conquests of the surrounding lands that brought riches flowing into the capital. These conquests showed no sign of stopping and the Imperial army was whispered to be aided by a dark force that ensured victory.

   Once again, Dreggers shook his head, he was very absent-minded of late, thinking about the oddest topics at a time where he ought to be focused  on the ongoing challenge of ensuring his share of food was not eaten by Nicoli or Devin's pets. Once the meat was done, Dreggers found that Arron's assessment of the meat had not emphasized the chewiness of the meat, which had the consistency of rope, albeit delicious rope. He ate in silence, listening to Nicoli and Devin talk and watched as Miran chased them off when the conversation approached her in a disrespectful tone. He'd grown used to their chaotic attitude towards everything, it was very much like Vincent's casual nature. He wondered if all wanderers were like this; careless when inactive yet intense and focused as soon as their skill was needed. It was a good thing to be, he decided, but too many people acting like this would be very bad for the world at whole.

   By the time the meal was over, the sun had set and it was time for them to rest up for the ordeal that they were drawing closer to. Dreggers volunteered to take first watch, as his mood was contemplative and wouldn't allow him to sleep immediately. The moon was almost full and illuminated the forest very well, and for a experienced tracker like Dreggers it was like midday. The will-o-wisps floated through the forest to the south, beckoning them towards the mires that lay not far beyond their lights. Dreggers watched the faint orbs for a while before looking up at the stars, feeling very peaceful and light, almost like he had felt with Vincent. He didn't often think about him these days, but looking back, Vincent was the strongest warrior he had met, yet it seemed like he desired nothing, had no goals. Smiling at the memories, he fondly recalled the freedom that Vincent had always made sure to give him in everything, he hadn't realized at the time how rare a quality like that was. Immersed in these nostalgic memories, he readied his mind for the dangers to come and the time passed quickly. Then he woke Arron and fell into a light yet pleasant sleep.

[Arch-Dullahan]

This is one of the coolest story I have ever read, when is the next bit coming?
I would seriously consider paying money for your writing but I wont (I would probably if it were published)
Summary: Pretty Awesome

[Shinigami]

Warning!

The above story contains serious awesomeness.

[Mastermind]

I've fallen off this a bit, but here's what been done.

   Dreggers got up and moved over to the fire. There was a panther-like creature roasting above it. Only Arron  had had a decent education, so most of the animals they ate, they did so without much knowledge of the creature, as Arron was not usually very descriptive about anything other than than the edibility of the creature and Devin, who seemed to know of every animal, delighted in keeping them in the dark.
'Is this any good?' he asked, looking around, not really caring who answered.
   'Bit chewy, but good.' Said Arron. It was odd, Arron looked like a typical scholarly debater, yet unless he was in a rare mood, he was so succinct it felt like an effort to get him to talk at all sometimes. When he wasn't listening to whatever the others were talking about, he would often look off into the distance with a haunted look. Ever since the Empire had taken the southwestern territories decades ago, acts of cruelty common among the Empire's innermost cities were also found in once peaceful villages causing many sad stories like Arron's, although the details of his particular tragedy had not been elaborated on. The Empire had begun it's corruptive path after a revolution by a group of war-mongers had overthrown the reasonably fair, although in no way outstanding, former emperor with the help of three of the Numini. The leader that had been placed on the throne, a man named Galteius, had almost immediately took the public's mind off of the shift in power with a series of conquests of the surrounding lands that brought riches flowing into the capital. These conquests showed no sign of stopping and the Imperial army was whispered to be aided by a dark force that ensured victory.

   Once again, Dreggers shook his head, he was very absent-minded of late, thinking about the oddest topics at a time where he ought to be focused  on the ongoing challenge of ensuring his share of food was not eaten by Nicoli or Devin's pets. Once the meat was done, Dreggers found that Arron's assessment of the meat had not emphasized the chewiness of the meat, which had the consistency of rope, albeit delicious rope. He ate in silence, listening to Nicoli and Devin talk and watched as Miran chased them off when the conversation approached her in a disrespectful tone. He'd grown used to their chaotic attitude towards everything, it was very much like Vincent's casual nature. He wondered if all wanderers were like this; careless when inactive yet intense and focused as soon as their skill was needed. It was a good thing to be, he decided, but too many people acting like this would be very bad for the world at whole.

   By the time the meal was over, the sun had set and it was time for them to rest up for the ordeal that they were drawing closer to. Dreggers volunteered to take first watch, as his mood was contemplative and wouldn't allow him to sleep immediately. The moon was almost full and illuminated the forest very well, and for a experienced tracker like Dreggers it was like midday. The will-o-wisps floated through the forest to the south, beckoning them towards the mires that lay not far beyond their lights. Dreggers watched the faint orbs for a while before looking up at the stars, feeling very peaceful and light, almost like he had felt with Vincent. He didn't often think about him these days, but looking back, Vincent was the strongest warrior he had met, yet it seemed like he desired nothing, had no goals. Smiling at the memories, he fondly recalled the freedom that Vincent had always made sure to give him in everything, he hadn't realized at the time how rare a quality like that was. Immersed in these nostalgic memories, he readied his mind for the dangers to come and the time passed quickly. Then he woke Arron and fell into a light yet pleasant sleep.

  The morning came quickly and uneventfully, and with it came a thick layer of clouds and mist. The party awoke in silence, feeling the mood brought on by the weather, except for Arron, who always seemed more energetic as the weather worsened.  They packed up their gear and set off towards the border between the forests and the wasteland. As they emerge from the forest, they could not help but stop in awe of the sight before them.  It was as if they had stepped into another world. Although the grey sky and mist had weighed on their spirits, it seemed like a summer afternoon compared to the blanket of gloom that immediately fell over them. The ground was bare, save for the bevy of burred grasses that made travel unbearable to those with unprotected feet. The sky was deep grey, and the clouds were very low, making it hard to see across the rolling hills into the distance. Such a gloomy place, but the depressing demeanor could not cover the growing excitement that the adventurers felt in their breast.
   
Only one type of intelligent creature known to inhabit the wasteland for any reason other than outright masochism are the Miners of Thaliegh. An odd race, to say the least, these introverted creatures honeycomb the hills, coming out from hidden entrances that are nearly impossible to find without knowing where they are. Master craftsmen, these creatures cover themselves in exotic armor fashioned of strange metals that makes them look reptilian, despite being warm blooded and furry under their steel cloaks. The Miners were known not to be hospitable to any outsider, except the Numini. Coincidently, as Dreggers and the others enter the wasteland, two Numini were being welcomed by the miners less than a league away.


   Arron turned to the others 'What are you doing? We need to move unless you want to sleep on this.' He gestures to the burrs before setting off at a brisk pace. This was one of the few times outside of battle any of the party had seen Arron actually voluntarily talk to the others. There was definitely something about the gloom that made him feel at home. Nicoli has theorized that he was part of a species of depressed people that could only be happy when others around them were miserable, but he seemed to mysteriously forget this whenever someone mentioned it around Arron. Dreggers seemed to be the only person completely unaffected gloom, perhaps because of the wasteland's resemblance to the great desert.

The party might have been limited to a slow walk by the gloom if an encounter with a Grey Puppeteer had not roused the usual force of will back into them. Grey puppeteers are typically incorporeal creatures that feed off of a creature's life force that leaks from their body as they die, but can reanimate and manipulate corpses. A corpse possessed will, over a period of a few days, assume the grayish tint that they are famous for. These puppets blend in well in the wasteland and typically try to stealthily pick off a member of a group and then allow the group member to start a killing chain. The psychological effect of facing the same comrades that seconds before were fighting alongside you usually destroys a group within a minute. This group, however, was different. As the first puppet stirred from the burrs it was hidden under, and Dreggers blew it's head off without looking. When the headless corpse continued to rise, Miran decided to relieve her negative feelings by proceeding to beat it into a bloody pulp with her mace. Then the other puppets rose around them. Dreggers grinned at Arron and Devin, this is exactly what they came here for.

It's been a while, here's the new segment.

The sounds of crunching bone and gunfire faded quickly and Dreggers saw that the others looked marginally more cheerful. The Grey Puppeteer is by nature a bottom feeder that survives by attacking the weak that wander between the boundary of the forest and the wasteland, but its defeat was still a mental victory over the wasteland, whose fearsome reputation had been making them hesitant to press forward. The gloom still pressed from all sides, but its hold was lessened. Arron had also gotten over his initial giddiness and was returning to his normal, sullen self. Thus normality, or a semblance of it, was restored.

          As the party moved on, they fell into their formation used for jungles or other densely forested region. Although there were no trees, the formation was ideal for low visibility terrain. They walked in single file, Dreggers walking ahead, examining the path ahead for information on the immediate area and the creatures within it. Nicoli came second, his dexterous hands wielding daggers that could easily be used to assist Dreggers in a frontal assault. Arron formed the core, his powerful fighting style ready to defend against an attack from any direction. Devin took the most protected space, because although he was a fearsome fighter, he needed time to summon familiars to his side, so he relied on Arron and Miran, the rear guard, to protect him while he prepared.

           For the next few hours, they made steady progress into the wastelands, spotting little more than a distant pack of earthen spirits and the incessant tendrils of lightning that skittered across the sky.  At the time that was judged to be around midday, although one could never be sure of the time with the sun so obscured, they stopped to eat. Devin decided that this meal would be perfect to try a game of 'is it poisonous?' with Dreggers, who was the designated cook for the day.

           Ten minutes later, the meal was served, a bitter-yet-filling blend of plants Dreggers had prepared along with several raw mollusks obtained from a slightly bruised Devin at gunpoint, along with repeated assurances of their edibility. Dreggers knew Devin too well to fall for any of his halfhearted tricks.

       "Something is off." Dreggers said suddenly, looking up from his bowl.

Arron, who had eaten little and now sat cross-legged on the ground, nodded and asked "Have you not noticed yet?"

       "Noticed what?" Nicoli asked, interested in anything that could distract him from the food. Arron merely shook his head

"I'm pretty sure he's talking about that church."Miran said, staring at the large building that seemed to have somehow materialized behind them while they ate.

It was a tall tower of white marble, designed in such a way that suggested pivotal spiritual importance, although the exact religion cannot be discerned. The wide, dark widows and towering spires drew the eye to this shrine, and it surely was visible for miles around, even in the gloom, yet none of them, other than Arron, had noticed it.

Dreggers stared for a moment, then turned to the others and declared "I will stand atop it." and strode to the large stone doors, which turned out not to be locked, opened them, and entered.