Storythread

Smalls considered this for a second, before responding. “You know, I’m pretty sure our ancestors wouldn’t have passed any of those tests back when they started colonizing.”

The other trooper accepted the point with a shrug, and then continued his rant. “Seriously though, every time a bunch of half-sapient idiots get their hands or tentacles or whatever on warp travel and join the Federation, they always pack up the craziest bastards in their system and ship them off somewhere like here, where they proceed to fuck everything up beyond all imagination.” Moore gestured at the ruined city around them for effect. “Then, despite the fact that it’s all THEIR fault, they call the Intervention Forces and ask us to stomp out the crazies and evac what’s left of the civvies.”

Private Smalls nodded, as this was all completely true, at least as far as any FIF trooper was concerned, though he felt the other trooper was getting a little too worked up about things. “Well, you know what they say about this sort of thing being an important part of a race’s development and all that… And look at it this way, if this sort of shit didn’t keep happening, we’d have nothing to do but sit around arguing philosophy like all the other senior races. I mean what’s the point of having a big ol’ fleet and army if you’re not going to use it for anything? And tell me you don’t like playing the big intergalactic hero?”

Moore finally relented with a grumble of “Well, yeah, I’m just saying its sloppy is all, someone should do something about it.” And the two troopers fell silent as they continued clearing a path to the next Federation-provided evac shelter. Both of them silently hoped that, unlike all the others their specialists had cracked open, this one would be occupied by something other than corpses and booby traps…

Eh, that didn't come out as well as I'd hoped. Oh well.

>English is not my first language
just out of interest, what is your first language?
just out of interest, what is your first language

...

Finnish

"Say, Reg, what's with the kid?"

In the Midnight Hour, there were only monsters here. Bats and devils were always welcome, zombies and werewolves never worried about tabs so long as they were frightening enough.
All of this made the little Elf girl sitting at the bar with a little teacup more obvious. She hardly looked scary and by the look of her darting eyes, she looked more frightened than frightening.
"Found her in the alley on the way in," the skull-faced barkeep mentioned as he polished the glasses. "Not sure what she's doing so far from the Feys, but it seemed like she'd been through a lot. Her robe was all cut up, bleeding, thought she was dead."
"Well, she don't look dead!" the bat pointed out. "And get me a Sangre-La. No stir." As he waited for his drink, the gelatinous blob next to him inched over to an empty teacup. "See, even Lumps agrees!"
"Since when was Lumps ever right about anything, Vinnie?" Reg snarled. "She's with me, I'm covering the tab."
Vinnie perked. "You have tabs? Who the hell here even has tabs?"
"Those damn skeletons who drove their damn shtick to the ground with that 'spooky scary' crap," Reg snorted between pours. "After the fifth time, I asked them for a new act. After the tenth, I just gave up and asked them to pay up. Scared those bastards good."
"Those idiots? I was wondering where they went!" Vinnie cackled as the drink reached him. "That act got stale the moment they arrived! Truth be told, I was thinking about giving them a piece of my mind!"
"And truth be told, I think I should be charging you too, you parasite." Reg glared. "All I see you do is complain about how you're scarier than anyone else in this pit."

Vinnie recoiled. "I take offense to that comment, good sir! I too am a frightening beast of the night, born to kill and drink the blood of his enemies!" Lumps paused at that statement, and a werewolf behind him laughed. Both of these burned at Vinnie, who only took solace in his drink.

cool

You did quite well making it all consistent with a Medieval setting. Very little characterisation, though, but then again it's only two posts long. I did like the story itself, but you did make a few linguistic errors. Some fairly obvious ones like
>an fleeing horse

plus some sentences that don't make sense like
>King didn't take this easily
I think you probably meant 'lightly'

>took many villages to torch
'put many villages to the torch' would be the phrasing, and I'm kind of curious why you didn't use it since you almost got it here:
>when King but whole barrowhills to torch
but managed to use a 'b' instead of a 'p'. Also, it should be 'the king'.

I know you probably didn't mean it this way but it's kind of fascinating reading your story since it gives quite an insight into the FInnish language. For example, from the number of times you left out 'the' I'm guessing Finnish doesn't have a definite article.

...

...

Martin sat on the metal bench of an APC, armed men sporting American flags sitting to eithier side of him.

It was his first time in an armored personnel carrier, but he was having a lot of firsts at that moment. It was the first he had ever worn ballistic armor, metal plates and kevlar overlaying each other. It was the first time he hadn't felt uncomfortable after a few hours of sitting, the muffin top he had acquired after years of sitting in a cubicle and eating not pressing against his belt buckle.

The soldier next to him stirred and gently knocked a cigarette out of a carton.He tapped his pockets, frowned and gently nudged Martin in the ribs holding the cigarette out.

Martin rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers drawing fire to the tip of his thumb. He lit the soldiers ciggerate waved the fire away and looked at the pink flesh unmarred by the flame.

The magic was also a first. He had been using it for years but just practice. This would be his first time in the field. His first time with other magic users trying to kill him.

His hands started trembling and he clasped them together to stop it.

Up in the front of the APC, his handler Drake notice and said "You okay Martin?"

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"You sure?"

Martin looked away from his hands and met Drake's eyes. He had kind brown eyes, the kind that doctors or nurses had. They drew attention away from the rest of his body. which was good because it was the kind that belonged to cage fighters and themen people imagined in prison showers.

"I'm fine Drake." Martin said. "I promise."

"Ain't no shame in acting like a pussy now man."Another voice spoke up from the back. "If you scared just say so."

Martin turned to look at the only other California native in the vehicle. He was smiling, metal teeth shining in what little light entered the vehicle.

Reg sneered. "Real frightening there, Vin."
Vinnie sputtered, "Then why don't you charge Lumps?"
Irritated, Reg grabbed Vinnie by his ear and turned him to observe the dimming gelatinous blob. As it climbed further on the table, both of them noticed a few key items floating in that mass: A skull, a hand, the still-dissolving carcass of a rat, and a nametag. "Unlike you, Lumps has a job here as the janitor. Boss pays him for eating whatever the patrons don't eat and he doesn't have to throw out food."
Again, the bat panicked, "And what about Voldumor? He does nothing but eat!"
Reg let go of Vinnie's ear to pour another drink to another patron. "Voldumor, the king of the slave trade? The richest trafficker of illegal wares and services in this entire friggin' sector? The mafioso? Are you kidding me, I should be charging you!"
"Hey hey hey!" Vinnie grew desperate, his eyes shooting wider. "Don't do this to me, Reg! This is the best watering hole this side of the city, do you really wanna throw out your best patron?"

Reg was about to ask, but the sudden cough reminded him that the girl had finished here tea. He poured her a cup, distracting him long enough for Vinnie to vanish, his drink half finished.
"Son of a..." he grumbled. He passed the drink over to Lumps. "All yours." He returned to his duties when he noticed the girl laughing. "And what's so funny?"
The girl squeaked. Reg shook his head as he returned to work. "I swear, I thought you were a zombie or something..."
The next person to sit where Vinnie resided was an Arachne, bound in a kimono decorated with a hundred different colors, and her hair done up in a bun. She smiles curtly at both Reg and Lumps. "Reginald, how's business?"
"Can't complain. Think I got that nuisance Vinnie to think twice before trying to pull something again."
The Arachne chuckled. "Oh, I wonder why you ever put up with such an arrogant pup!" Her gaze then turns to find the little Elf, now biting a cookie.

40k stories fine?

"M-master?" A little voice asked as I shivered, the chilly morning breeze stirring me from an otherwise restful sleep. "Are you okay, master Zauber?" I raised my head and looked up, dark clinging to my vision as blood started running up to my head again.

My vision returned, and the first thing I saw was my apprentice, Lilty, looking a little concerned as she stood on the edge of the shelf next to my desk. I was still half-asleep, and too nauseous to care. I raised my arm to shoo her away, but it fell limp at my side before I could manage anything else.

"Son of a-" I grunted as pain shot through my temple, my hangover finally kicking in for real. I sat up and rubbed at my eyes, trying to hold back a belch that might have been half vomit. "What is it, Del- ah, Lilty?" She shuffled her feet and wouldn't look up for a moment. something tickled my chest, and I realized I hadn't done up the collar tie on my robe.

"I'm sorry, but you said we were supposed to learn some enchantments today so I came in early..." Lilty rocked back and forth on her heels, her little wings fluttering slightly in the breeze as she played and twirled with her golden hair, not wanting to make eye contact. "Should I come back later?"

"Nnn- what time is it?" I cracked my neck and glanced up at the clock over my desk while straightening my beard. "Damn, it's already midday?" Lilty jumped a little at my exclamation, and took a step back behind a heavy old spellbook.

"Look, I-I can come some other time if you're... not feeling well, master." She began to turn, before straightening and getting a sparkle in her eye. "O-or I can help? Some fairy dust will make you feel better!"

I swept my hair back and brushed the cigar ashes from my beard, coughing a little as dust from the bookshelves was picked up by the breeze through the open window to my study.

"No, Lilty, I, ah..." I had to think for a moment, the words not coming. "...I ought to be like this today."

(cont.)

"My first time I was in the same exact position you were." Metal Teeth paused and cocked his head to the side. " 'Course I was fourteen at the time. And outside the APC. And I didn't give a fuck but-"

"Cheshire would you shut up you psychotic fucking Mexican." Drake interrupted.

"What? I'm just trying to help."

He was trying, Martin knew, in his own little strange way. Cheshire had two years of experience on Martin and while he had found it odd at first to take the advice of a kid nearly twelve years younger than him, Cheshire for all his faults cared.

"I'm fine Chesh." Martin said. "I'm fine. Just a bit nervous that's all. Like the first day of school."

"Ain't no fucking reason to be nervous man." Cheshire said. He smiled.."More often than not these assholes are just fucking teenagers. No training. No real power. Nothing. Just fear. You talk like a man they'll give up. I remember this one girl, I showed her my dick-"

"Because you phase shifted wrong." Drake cut in.

Cheshire continued on pretending nothing had happened." I showed her my dick and she gave right the fuck up."

"Because she was laughing too hard."

"And nobody got hurt."

"Except the dignity of the United States Witch Corps, Mexican Americans across the nation and people who think tighty whities are still appropriate for adults."

Cheshire stood and gave Drake the finger. "Fuck you. She liked what she saw."

"And like I told you because your mommy didn't, pity dates are still the saddest thing in the world."

They bantered like that in the mess, back in the training camp where Martin had made some semblance of a life for himself, with his own little family. They were trying to make him feel better, to take him away from the APC and the fight ahead but they were just making him feel worse.

Could have just checked the wiki page. There's over sixty Warhammer 40k caps on there right now

"What are you doing here, little child?" she grinned at the Elf in an uncomfortable way. "Don't you know what happens to bad little children who walk into the den of monsters?"
"She's with me, Jolie." Reg put down a large glass of draft, the Arachne's normal order. "I'll go looking for her family tomorrow."
The Arachne's smile softened before petting the girl on her head. "Oh, is that it?"
"The girl was just outside of the bar's back entrance. Thought she was dead."
Jolie nodded as she listened. "Poor thing. Has she said anything?"
"Nope."

Jolie took a moment to look at the girl, parting her hair to see both of the Elf's indigo eyes. As she cradled the girl's cheek, she cooed, "Don't you fret, little one. Reginald here's a really nice monster here. I'm sure he'll take good care of you!"
"Stop giving her hope like that," Reg talked down.
The Arachne put her hand down before leaning in to Reg's face. "Don't be so stiff, Reginald. I know this place prides itself in being frightening and all, but not all of us keep the face on 24/7." She cracked open a fan hidden in her sleeve to conceal her smile. "Trust me, it'll do wonders for your grimace!"
"It'd be hypocritical of me," Reg snorted. He picked up the glasses Lumps finished with and soon the blob drooped back down to the floor. "If this bar didn't have such a dumb rule about being scary to get in free, maybe I might, but this isn't the rule."
Jolie got even closer. "I'll see that smile sooner. or. later~!" She pecked Reg in the cheek. "But please, if not for her, do it for my sake!"
The grumpy bartender started swatting away the Arachne, but she hopped back and took her drink before leaving. She laughed all the way back, leaving both Reg and the Elf flustered.

"Don't listen to her," he fumed again. "I heard those same lines repeated to men, women, children, even pets. You know what happens to the people she likes? She eats them."

Drake saved the world once. A normal soldier, turned mage turned hero. He almost died doing it, lost the love of his life but in the end he had done it and afterwards so many other things. Cheshire got his magic when a Cartel worked him over, trying to intimidate his father into giving them his butcher shop. They broke his legs, his arms, ribs and knocked out his teeth. But Cheshire got right back up and fought them for over three days until the Corp had arrived.

Who was he in comparison to them? Martin, a wageslave whose wife had taken his kids and gone to Florida to be with some man she had met online. He wasn't brave, he wasn't tough he was nothing.

His hands started trembling again and he squeezed them together until they hurt.His legs started to bounce so he brought his elbows down to stop them.

He was scared. He was scared he was going to die, or kill somebody. He was scared he was going to get somebody killed. He was scared he would let Drake and Cheshire down, but most of all he was scared that even in his new life he'd be nothing just like the old one.

"Martin."

He jerked up and saw brown eyes. "Yeah?"

"You'll be fine." Drake said. "More than fine. I wish I could have gotten more time to train you but you're ready for this. You just gotta stop listening to this."He pointed at Martin's head."And listen to this." He pointed to his chest.

"And if that faggot shit don't work, remember, you can light people on fire legally."

Drake rubbed the bridge of his nose, a look of pain on his face."Cheshire."

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

He walked back to the front of the APC and Martin closed his eyes and tried to breathe. The vehicle a few bumps, he heard Cheshire strike up a conversation with his neighbor and he tried to let go.

The vehicle eventually rumbled to a stop. The doors of the APC opened and the soldiers quickly filed out.

Lilty didn't question me, but she gave me a quizzical look as she took her normal seat on top of my cigar box. She reached into her bag and produced a tiny white quill, inkwell, parchment and reading glasses, without taking her eyes off of me.

"so, enchantments." I mumbled as I finished straightening out my robe and clearing my workspace, shuffling around in my drawers for the day's magical reagents. "Very potent stuff. At first they help people understand you better, maybe make them like you, but when you get stronger you can... ngh..." something cracked in my back as I stood up to check my cupboard full of ingredients. "You can twist and warp the mind in ways that suit you."

I took a pinch of bird seed and crashed back down in my chair, the straight wooden back creaking as I tried to lean back and get more comfortable.

"Master, you've been drinking, haven't you?" I stopped sorting through the seeds and dropped them onto the desk, halfheartedly looking around my chair for my hat. "I thought you said you quit."

"I did." I grunted as I bent over the get my hat from beneath my desk. "Then I started again." I gestured down to the seeds on the table. "Now, I want you to take a seed and see if you can convince one of the sparrows in the yard to come to you. The incantation is in that tome over there, see if you can pronounce it." I pointed to a heavy old book by the window sill, and pulled the brim of my hat over my eyes, blocking out the midday sun.

Lilty flitted over to the book and grunted as she lifted up the heavy studded leather cover with both hands, wings struggling. she alighted on the table of contents and traced a hand over the smudged letters, looking for the first chapter on enchantment.

"Are you sure you're okay? You look sick." Lilty asked over her shoulder as she flipped through the old tome. "You know, with some fairy dust I can sober you up." she found the page she was looking for, and turned to face me.

(cont.)

Cheshire smiled at no one in particular and disappeared, his teeth the last thing to go. Drake rolled his eyes and took the more conventional route, with a fireteams worth of men.

Martin channeled fire to his right hand and stared at it, telling himself he was brave. One day he would believe it. For now he could fake it.

>Have no idea for the title.

"Is this about your wife?" Lilty asked suddenly, much more brazen and direct than usual. I coughed in surprise and sat up.

"No, Lilty. I've gotten past that. Now, please." I gestured toward the book and tried to recall the words of the incantation. It had been too long.

After a few attempts she got the pronunciation down, and took a handful of bird seed up to the windowsill. I showed her the hand gestures, and let her get to work trying to get the attention of the songbirds roosting outside.

"You were about to call me Delilah earlier, master." Lilty said without turning, her eyes on the birds. "Was that her name?" I stayed silent. She didn't need confirmation.

"That's not important right now. Please, just... ugh." I stood up, strode over to the window, took a few seeds into my palm, and began reciting the spell. Sure enough, a little brown sparrow came to the window, whistling half a tune as he hopped around on the musty old wood.

There was a soft glow, and the sparrow stopped hopping around and twitching, coming close enough to touch. I raised my index finger and he climbed on, nuzzling my other hand with his head.

Lilty reached out to pet the bird, but he inched away, still absorbed in keeping my attention. I snorted a little at Lilty's pouting face.

"He's my friend, not yours. Try the spell again." She started retracing the steps, and surely enough a big red robin came down to greet her, worm still dangling from its mouth. She grimaced, and tried to shoo him away to get another bird's attention.

"You're going to see her today, right?" Litly asked as a female cardinal came to a gentle landing on the windowsill. "Tell her I said happy birthday." I was ready to chastise her, but when I looked down and saw Lilty gently petting the bird's beak I couldn't think to interrupt it.

(cont.)

Lilty packed up her belongings and started to lift into the air, wings fluttering.

"We're not done." I said, gesturing for her to return to the windowsill. She grinned and started moving toward the window.

"You're busy today. I'll come back tomorrow, master." I wanted to object, but with a puff of golden dust she was already out the window and soaring into the sky.

I took off my hat and wiped at my brow, the room starting to get muggy as the day warmed up. Then it hit me.

"That little..." I whispered under my breath. She had hit me with a tuft of fairy dust on her way out, and my hangover had disappeared. "I've got no excuse now, I guess."

First I changed into a fresh red robe and cleaned myself up properly, then went out to my garden. I carefully pushed aside the glowing mushrooms and red moss, revealing the sparkling blue rose I had been saving since the last year. I carefully pulled it up and took it with me out to the trail behind my house, a short path with a charm keeping insects away.

At the end of the trail was a small headstone, roughly carved but standing sturdy against the elements. It was one of the few things I dared to make without the help of a spell. I took a seat on a fallen log and placed the rose at the floor of the stone, commanding it to take root in the soft black soil.

"I guess you were right, Delilah." I exhaled deeply, feeling my fatigue start to come back. "Fairies are nothing but trouble." I waved a hand and spoke the words to make the rose grow tall, wrapping itself around the headstone as more petals bloomed.

"Happy birthday, dear."

(end)

"Um...I don't think she's that bad a person."
The tiny voice was enough to immobilize Reg as he was cleaning a glass. Even after decades of terror, years of seeing the acts of depravity and horror the monsters committed, he was scared...by a little Elf girl speaking.
He scrambled to catch the glass before it broke. "S-so you talk? Alright where are you from? Who are you?"
"I've been walking for a week," she whispered. "I...I was running away. From something bad."
"Well, we can get you to the cops tomorrow." Reg regained his full composure. "Right now, just stay put, don't talk to strangers. Erm, besides me."

Another person took a seat in the bar. This time, it was the werewolf who was on the previous table, now alone. His fur was a mottled shade of brown on his head and nape but his arms were all one shade. His attire brought to mind a rail conductor.
"So what's the record now, Konrad?" Reg asked.
"2-1. Friggin' scrub luck," the wolf snarled. "Hit me with something hard."
"Ol' Dirty Brew or the Dreadful Man?"
"Dreadful. I need something going down easy tonight." Reg poured the drink within seconds. "Asshole was all sorts of cocky about winning that race, and I bet all that! They said it was gonna be a steal!"
Reg shrugged, "Hey, it's still early in the season. I know you have a nose for finding opportunities."
"Yeah, I hope so." Konrad took a large gulp of the whiskey. As he lowered the glass, he locked eyes with the Elf. "By the way, what's the story with the kid?"
"Runaway. I'll be looking into the police tomorrow."
Konrad took a sniff. "You sure she's alright, boss? She smells kinda sick." Another sniff. "Um, sorry if it scares you, kid. I'm an inspector. Kinda my job to smell things to make sure they're safe." The Elf, comforted by his breath, petted his snout. "Ohoho! I knew it! The ol' Konrad Vulfolos pheromones are still kickin!"
The Elf smiled a little, Konrad was sounding like a nice uncle figure.

"Shut up, you fleabag," Reg reminded him. "When was the last time that nose of yours didn't drag up some crazy broad out to kill or rob you?"
"There was that nice catgirl I met last month!"
"She was interested in your wallet."
"She was not!" Konrad pouted. "She was scared of what a committed man I am!"
"She was - " Reg gave up before giving himself another headache. He just set about giving the werewolf another glass. "You can't be relying on me or your brother to keep bailing you out of these relationships."
"He barged in on us!" Konrad took defense. "We were totally gonna do - " Before he could say anything, Reg glared at him so hard he winced. He then noticed the Elf at his side and realized that he was about to get a little...graphic. "Sorry kid."

Konrad took another drink. "So what about you? Do you even have a life outside of here?"
Reg grimaced. "You know my job is here."
"But you don't do anything but bartend. Isn't there someone else who can take your shifts?"
"And do what?" the barkeep's tone was constant. "I have a rathole upstairs because that's all I can afford. The only reason I'm still working here's because it's the one thing I can do."
Konrad snapped his fingers, "Then why don't you take the kid in? I'm sure she'll give you something new to worry about!"
"You're an idiot, Konrad," the idea was shot down. "She's not mine, I can't afford keeping her, and I don't even know the first thing about raising kids."

Before Reg could even say anything, Jolie climbed down from her web to dispense her own commentary. "My, my! I think the dog here thought of a genius idea!"
"Not again..." grumbled Reg. "I got as far as I did by not taking chances."
"And that's why you're boring!" she pointed out. "I'm sure that her parents will appreciate that someone's been taking care of such a darling girl!"
"She likes you enough as it is!" observed the werewolf. "Just ask her to join you in the apartment for a bit, see how things turn out and act from there."

Reg threw his hands up. "Fine, you want me to kidnap this girl, I'm listing you as accomplices!"
Jolie and Konrad wrapped around the Elf, congratulating her on becoming the new interest of Reginald the barkeep. Together they also coordinated a plan to help Reg with the kid and even offered some recommendations for activities.

By the time the plan was finalized, it was already 1 in the morning. The clients all had to leave. The messes had to be cleaned, and the small fees counted. Reg and the girl were the last ones out, waiting until after Lumps left to lock up.

As he told those two, all Reg had to his name was a ratty little two-room apartment. The bathroom was far too small for them to both use and there was only a sofa to sleep in. Admittedly, it was a very organized apartment, but it was clear that it was not by choice he was here.
He sat the Elf on his sofa wearing one of his old shirts. "Look, I don't now what the deal is with you, but I don't want you here longer than I need to. Those two nimrods think that you're gonna be something to me, but I don't need any of that."
"Um, mister," she interrupted. "I'm thankful for taking me in." She stood up before bowing to Reg. "I'm able to do whatever it is you desire."
Reg was caught off-guard by the response. "Y-you don't need to do that, kid! I promise, I'll find your family."
The Elf looked dead at him in an unnerving fashion. "I...am not meant to have family. I am a servant. I must only have a master."

Reg took a good hard ten seconds to let that soak in, but once he did, he noticed a peculiar mark on the girl's chest. Five rings were interlocked with each other. He suddenly regretted ever letting those two talk him into this, but he couldn't tell them until tomorrow. Even then, would it be too late? Did he put himself and the girl in danger?
Regardless, the barkeep only ordered the girl to sleep on the sofa while he kept to the floor.

The next morning, Reg woke up to find Breakfast already made. Even though it was an egg, some deli meat, and some toast, it was all prepared better than he ever did.
"Good morning," she replied. "I...made breakfast, if that is fine with you."
Reg was flattered. "Um...thank you..."

That day was spent with Reg being as overprotective as he could. He immediately asked the police if anyone saw her, and found nothing, but that still allowed for posters to go up. Following that, they skipped around the Monster's Quarter of the city, where the sun was always dim, but the fires always burned bright. Along the way he found some new clothes for the Elf, learned that she liked cookies, and found out that her favorite color was white. All along the while, the creases on the intimidating barkeep's face seemed to almost soften as he learned to appreciate this distraction.

The effect was not lost on Konrad and Jolie, as the two of them noticed the Elf, now in a lolita dress with a piece of cake on hand.
"I knew it! I just knew it!" crowed the Arachne. "She really does have a thing for you!"
"Shut up," Reg deflected the comment. "She's going to bring trouble."
Konrad and Jolie were miffed at the reaction. "Come on, Reg! She doesn't look like the sort to bring trouble! I mean, what's the worse that she could even do?" To this, Reg merely took a napkin and drew out the five interlocked rings. The mention halted both of them in their tracks.
"I...wow. I knew something smelled wrong, but this?" Konrad was in disbelief. "Oh, man. I'm sorry Reg, I was just trying to help you out!"
"That clan...the clan of Seelai. I've seen them cross the boundaries of Feys and the Monster's Quarter without care. Nobody crosses them without paying a price." Jolie's voice was cold. She took the Elf in her arms. "I'm...so sorry you were witness to that."
Reg spoke up, "Alright, so what do we do?"
"What can we do?" Asked Konrad.

...

...

...

...

...

The silence was thick enough to be felt by even the dullest 'Mancer. The smugness on her face had him contemplating whether or not he should hit her with more then just stun spells. Minutes passed by, before he finally rubbed the side of his face and sighed.

"Merchant better give me a god damn refund for that wyrm being so useless. I pay three thousand gold for the thing, and all I get is a god damn scaley house cat. Who evidently couldn't keep even keep one intruder out." He grumbled, staring reproachfully at the Wyrm, who seemed to be of in his own little world.

The woman didn't react to his rant further then widening her grin, which at least made it look a tad less smug. A minute passed before he throw up his hands in disgust. "Fine, what do you want for want for leaving me alone? You're already sitting on my best spell books." He said, his voice getting progressively more annoyed.

"Oh, that easy my dear, I want *you*." In split second her smile was gone, as various holy symbols materialized and pelted her in the face. "What are you doing you buf-" Her angry question was interrupted by a well aimed cross lodging itself in her mouth, causing her to gag.

"OUT DEMON! BEGONE FILTHY WITCH! IN WHATEVER RELEVANT GOD'S NAME I CAST YOU BACK INTO WHICHEVER AMOROUS ASS TINTED PIT THAT SPAWNED YOU!" He shouted, each symbol smacking into her growing more and more esoteric.

A blast of very powerful dampening magic halted halted his assault with a brilliant purple flash. "I'm a dragon you idiot! Not some common demon!"

"Oh... Uh-oh."

...

"We're monsters, but we're not an army!"
Jolie agreed. "We are the only people here who are willing to protect this girl. That is...does she even have a name?"
Reg shrugged. "Nope. She likes cookies and white though."
She tutted in disappointment. "Well, that just won't do. Oh, I have one! Let's call her Blanc!" The Elf blushed at the mention. "Oh, do you like the name? It means white."
Her ears wiggled. "That settles it, she's Blanc from now on!"

Their conversation was interrupted when two elves sat down next to Konrad and Jolie. Both of them wore fine suits and shades, and their hair was slicked back.
"You're both new here, so here's the rules," Reg recited his introductory speech. "You have to pay unless you're scary. Rule of the monster."
He got a pistol aimed straight at his forehead by the Elf nearest Konrad.
The other one commented, "We're here to look for some missing...equipment. We heard you might know about it."
"Oh, mobsters? Haven't seen those in a month..." he looked over. "Look, I don't have equipment here. My fridge is a microfridge, my stove's a piece of crap, and the TV barely gets reception. Unless you're really looking for garbage, I ain't got equipment."
The mobsters were unimpressed. "Is that so? So you would not remember if you picked up something last night that was not yours?"
Everyone tensed up. They were here for the girl.
"Well, barkeep? Ringing any bells?"'

Reg kept to his stance.
"Well. That is a disappointment." The mobster nodded. His comrade shifted his aim to Jolie next. "Then, perhaps your two clients might know about where the equipment went?"
Jolie's many eyes went wide. "N-Now, now! No need for violence here!" She tried to defuse the situation. "I'm just a fashion designer! All my clothes are hand-spun!"
"No more games." The mobster's face began to strain. "The kid. Hand her over."
Konrad asked, "Hey, are you her dad?" He got a pistol aimed at his midsection for his troubles.

"So what if I'm not, wise guy?" The mobster asked threateningly. "It's none of your beeswax."
Reg cut in as he poured a clear glass. "Look, if it matters so much to you, why don't you ask her yourself?"
The mobsters both laughed. "Can you believe this guy? Who the hell asks equipment if they wanna go?" The talkative one then noticed the glass. "What's this?"
"Hell's water," replied Reg. "Strongest stuff out here."
"At least you show some respect to your clientele," he muttered. He ordered the other mobster to take a sip. Within minutes, the elf's face distorted, as if in pain. He spat out the water and began screaming. His tongue was already dissolving and his teeth were gone.
The mobster drew another gun. "The hell, you bastard!"
"Oh, right, I forgot to tell you, Hell's Water was actually one of the names our janitor made for himself back in the day!" Reg picked up the glass and dropped a nametag on it: It was Lumps all along. "He also acts as security for unruly customers such as yourself."
"You..." he fired at Reg first. The bullet lodged itself in his skull-face and he dropped then and there, to the screams of horror by the Midnight Hour.

"Alright, now you know what I can do," the mobster grunted. "I ain't here for games. Give me the kid and I'll make sure that idiot's the only fatality here."
Threatened, both Konrad and Jolie began to growl while putting themselves in front of Blanc. "And why would I believe you?" the werewolf snarled.
"Scout's honor."
Before either of them could act, Jolie made a surreptitious tug. The mobster flung to his side and slammed his head on the table, tied down by some webs on his fancy coat. Jolie slid forth and then spun a few other lines to hoist the mobster by his feet.

The rest of the bar soon scrambled afterward. Reg had to be carried to a hospital, the mobsters tied up and police had to investigate Blanc. All in all, the three monsters were considered heroes.

As thanks for saving the girl, the police paid for Reg's hospitalization. The room, while initially flooded by the patrons and staff of the Midnight Hour showing appreciation for the bartender's sacrifice, eventually thinned down to three: Jolie, Konrad, and little Blanc. They had faith he'd pull through.

It was on the third day that Reg finally woke up to find a little Elf girl on the bed with him as Konrad and Jolie came back in.
"Back to the land of the living, now are we?" the werewolf smiled as he sat down.
"What are you two doing here?" was Reg's only response.
Jolie smirked, "Well, that's a nice way of thanking the only people still visiting you!"
"Mostly on her insistence, you see." Konrad continued, "We all knew you'd survive, but the kid here was so scared. I think you've really become a good influence on her."
"I just fed her and let her crash on my ratty couch."
Jolie prodded, "And that's more than anyone else did for this girl!"
Reg looked down and decided to grab Blanc a little tighter. "Well, I didn't say I wasn't keeping her. I just wish I could do more for her's all."
The two monsters smiled. "Leave that to us!"
Before they could go on though, Reg noticed a letter on the desk addressed to him. He opened it.

>You've been working your ass off for long enough. Effective as soon as you get up, you're going on a vacation for two weeks. Don't worry about the bar, the other guys will have to pick up the slack. Besides, you'll be needing the time to get used to raising a kid.
>See you back, the Boss

Reg sighed. Everyone was so dead set on him being a dad to this little brat.
Well, he didn't mind that anymore.

...

...

...

...

Mixie had spent the day fishing

Mixie hated fishing

It was all right when you were just doing it for fun. If you were just doing it for fun you could just sit back, chillax, and light up a conch pipe while listening to the sound of the waves. She used to go fishing with Jessie, and she'd get so fucking stoned that she'd start to believe that the lapping waves were the sound of the ocean's heart beating. Those had been good times. She'd sit behind Jessi with her slender, tanned legs wrapped around his waist, and Jessi would give her foot rubs while she braided his hair. And she'd stoke his lovely, smooth, rounded ears, fascinated by them. And then they'd do other things.

He'd had this thing where he'd nibble the very points of her ears. That drove her crazy.

Fishing by yourself, on the other hand, when you were doing it just because you needed to eat, was about the most boring and frustrating experience imaginable. There was nothing to do but just sit on the rocks all day, waiting for a fish to wander by, with nothing happening for hours at a time. She couldn't smoke, because that dulled the reflexes. She couldn't relax because she might miss a chance, and in any case it was kinda hard to relax when you were always worried that you'd have to go home with nothing to show for it. With no way to put food on the table. Mixie was a decent spear-fisher, which was why she was doing it and not beach-combing or something. But there were always bad days, when she'd she'd miss every strike, or break her spear on a rock, or just not see a fish all day. When she'd have to go back to the shack and watch Jessi try to hide the disappointment in his eyes.

Today hadn't been such a bad day, by Mixie's fairly low standards at least. She had a couple of fish she could probably sell. Most of the fishing around here was done from boats, from the little canoe fishers who paddled out into the bay every morning with their lines and maybe a net or two, all the way up to the trawlers that swept the shoals out at sea for weeks at a time. Mixie couldn't afford a boat, even a canoe (not yet, at any rate), nor even decent fishing equipment, so she was forced to rely on a dorsal spike from a huge deep-water spiny skull-fish as a spear (they washed up on the beaches regularly), and her preternatural elven reflexes. With no boat her hunting grounds were limited to the little coves and rock-pools that were scattered along the coast hereabouts. There were a decent number of fish there for catching, if you had quick eyes and quick hands, although the things lurking between the rocks generally weren't the most impressive specimens.

But she'd take what she could get, and at least she'd actually got something today. They weren't worth much - ugly little bastards - but the beach-front grill stalls would take most things. The octopus might fetch some half-decent coin - pan-fried tentacles were popular this season - so that'd balance out the spiny skull fish. Spiny skull-fish were dirt cheap, since they didn't taste good enough to really be worth the effort of de-spining. So she wouldn't bother trying to sell it, just take it home and that would be dinner this evening. Oh joy, what a feast to look forward to, she thought sarcastically - you always ate those things knowing that each mouthful could contain the spine you inevitably missed while preparing it.

Still, she'd have brought home some coin and something to eat. She'd done well enough that she almost didn't feel guilty when she'd lit up her conch pipe as she walked back towards the town. She'd earned a little something to take the edge off life. Not too much, though - she still had to sell her catch, which meant haggling with the stall holders, and in any case she didn't want to fall asleep as soon as she got home. She spent little enough time there these days as it was.

It wasn't a long walk back into town, and soon Mixie could hear the hustle and bustle of the tourist district, getting ready for the switch-over from afternoon to evening. Every dusk the sun bathers and the surfers, and the tourists just enjoying the market stalls, started filtering away from the sea-front towards the restaurants and the lodging houses back in the town. Then the party, the everlasting party which spent the day hiding its excesses in shuttered up flop houses and gin shop cellars, came down onto the beach, with booze and bonfires and enough moonlight sex to make even the famously lecherous god of the sea blush. Every night was a party, here on the beach. For some people, at least. It had used to be like that for Mixie, but then the real world had caught up with her - like her father always said it would - and suddenly life didn't seem to be any fun any more. The real world had too many expenses and too little money. Mixie took another drag from her conch pipe, the misty vapours of the special seaweeds within drawn deep into her lungs. And exhaled, blowing out a cloud of mist like an ancient sea-dragon. She giggled. probably time to put the pipe away, 'cause these days it was a little too easy for her to have a little too much.

She was in a better mood by the time she reached the promenade, the stretch of road where the market stalls set up during the day, selling knick-knacks to tourists, and the seafood grills occupied at night, selling anything even the slightest bit edible to drunken revellers. The knick-knack sellers were mostly packed up by that point, Jessi included, it seemed. His human reflexes weren't good enough to make spear-fishing a worthwhile pursuit, so he'd got a few odds and ends together and set up a stall with all the others. They all sold the same cheap trinkets - the sort of stuff that washed up on the beach for the scavengers to find. Seashell necklaces, driftwood figurines, headdresses made of seabird feathers (that one mostly to the party-goers), etc, etc. The sort of stuff that would have been next to worthless even if there weren't a dozen other stalls in the vicinity selling exactly the same thing. But hey, maybe Jessi would have done allright today, and she'd come home to find he'd brought in even more coin than her.

Wow. She really needed to cut back on the special seaweed.

Jessi had some talents, but salesmanship wasn't one of them. Nor was responsible financial planning; most days she was just relieved if she came home and he hadn't spent - or given away - what little money they had. Jessi had a reputation for being soft-hearted and that meant people came to him when they needed a favour. Or, as Mixie would put it, they exploited him mercilessly. Jessi would say all the favours he did came round again in one form or another, and that when they really needed something there'd be a debt he could call in to get it. Sometimes that was true, but as far as Mixie's accounting went, Jessi gave out a lot more than he got.

Mixie shuddered; for a moment there it was as if her father's voice had wormed its way into her skull, and was making judgements about Jessi as if it were her own thoughts. Of course Jessi was generous, that was one reason - among many - that she'd fallen in love with him. So what if he didn't make much money - she wasn't a whore, and she hadn't come to this town to get rich.

No, she'd come to the bay to spend her days getting drunk and partying. Her father's voice again. He hadn't even wanted her to leave home - she was in her fifties, but as far as he was concerned that was still childhood - let alone come to a hedonistic resort town. He'd have much preferred it if she'd spent the next hundred years closeted away in some isolated forest glade seeing the same elves do the same things decade after decade, while she spent her time learning the finer points of weaving or engraving or poetry. Damn elves with their damn poetry. Mixie had certain opinions regarding elven poetry, e.g: if it takes thirty years to understand a single line, that isn't because it's deep, it's because the poet didn't know how to say what he wanted to say.

Mixie hated poetry. Even more than she hated fishing.

Even if fishing was boring, a least she was doing a boring job in an interesting place. She'd left her home not because she wanted to party (not JUST because she wanted to party) but because she wanted to see all the infinite variety that the world outside the elven forests had to offer. She'd wanted to seek out the parts of the world that were as far removed as possible from the dull, repetitive, same-ness of the Elven realms. She'd wanted to see the interesting, the diverse, the unusual, the exotic.

As Mixie walked along the promenade, she thought to herself that she could at least take comfort in the fact that she had accomplished that particular goal. She wove through the crowd, ducking past people from species she hadn't even heard of until she came to the beach, and keeping an eye on her spear in case someone tried to slip one of the fish off the end. The promenade was full of every kind of person, good and bad. And also a decent number of people she knew. In front of her was Fonty the sea-troll, who was entirely covered in kelp-like hair, so much so that he looked like a walking seaweed-bed. He had a cave in the next cove over, and made a living by dragging away the larger pieces of driftwood that were too heavy for others to shift. She smiled at him as she slipped past (she couldn't tell if he'd seen her though - you could never tell which way he was facing with all that kelp-hair).

She didn't know him well, they were just passing acquaintances in the way most people who worked the beach were, but this was a friendly place and the people here were friendly people, so she'd say hello to Fonty on the street and he'd say hello back (if he saw her). And that was the weird part - that she didn't even find guys like Fonty weird any more. She'd spent enough time here now that even guys like Haikarl the sharkman and Lucky Moto (who trained seagulls to pick pockets for him) and all her other neighbours along the beach seemed familiar to her. Not boring, not familiar in the stultifying, suffocating way the forest had been - even though she knew a lot of the scene around here, there were always new faces. It was just that she fit in here, like she never had back home.

Always a couple of faces she could do without seeing more of, though. There was Elyrion, on his meat-stall as usual. Just walk past quickly and don't make eye contact...

'Hey Mixie, you got anything to sell me today?'

just ignore him just ignore him just ignore him just ignore him... 'I thought you didn't buy fish Rion. You always said I only catch trash anyway.' Dammit. Some times she just couldn't help herself.

Rion's schtick was that unlike most of the rest of the grill-stalls he didn't sell sea-food, but game caught by hunters further inland. His business did pretty well in a town where there was enough seafood to make anyone sick of it eventually. Which was a pity because Elyrion was an ass - and, unfortunately, also an elf. In combination, that made him a double-pain-in-the-butt for Mixie, because he thought being an elf made him the natural choice of partner for any female elves that happened to walk by. He'd always taken it as an almost personal insult that Mixie was still shacking up with a human, of all people.

'Not talking about the fish Mixie - like you said, I only do meat, and I already got the meat for you right here.' This was accompanied by an obscene gesture somewhere in the vicinity of his loincloth. 'Come on, Mixie you know you need the money.'

'Go fuck yourself Elyrion, because I'm never going to.' Mixie shouted back across the promenade, returning an equally obscene hand gesture. Rion hated being called by his full name almost as much as Mixie did. 'I'd tell you to throw your meat on the grill with the rest of it, but it's so small no one would buy it.'

'Suit yourself, my little Micathlinna. Just remember, when you wake up hungry in the middle of the night in that shack of yours, I'll be more than happy to fill your belly for you.' He shouted it at Mixie's fast disappearing back, but she knew he was smiling that smug smile of his all the same. That was the infuriating thing about Rion: he was so arrogant that he genuinely didn't care what insults she threw at him. She made another obscene gesture her shoulder anyway, for her own satisfaction, and disappeared off into the crowd.

A little way along from Rion's stall was Dez the halfling's grill. Mixie liked selling to Dez, who was not only a pretty genial guy like all halflings, but also made even her smallest fish look bigger by comparison. Dez, like always, was leaning back on his chair, hairy feet up his stall for the whole promenade to see, smoking his pipe. Not special seaweed: Dez might not be your typical halfling - their homeland was entirely landlocked and most of them viewed sea-food with deep suspicion - but there were some things you couldn't compromise on and still call yourself a halfling in his opinion, proper pipe-leaf sent all the way from home being one of them.

Ropes of fish hanging from the top of his stall swung gently in the breeze, and the grill smouldered gently, mixing it's smoke with the smoke from Dez's pipe. The evening rush hadn't really started yet, and it would be a little while yet before Dez fired up the grill and threw a couple of fish on. It was the best time to get to him - before the dinner rush started, when he wouldn't have time to talk at all, but not so early that he had plenty of time to spare to argue with her. Mixie, now pretty tired after the walk into town and still a bit buzzed from the special seaweed, took a moment to get herself together. Then, hoping her catch didn't look as pathetic to Dez as it did to her, she went up to the stall.

'Hey Dez. How's the leaf?' Always a good way to start a conversation with Dez

'Smoother than the shit you smoke, that's for sure.' He blew a smoke ring towards her. 'Take a sniff of that. That's proper shire-leaf, dried, pressed and ground with methods passed down the generations from the halfling ancestors. You Elves can keep your poetry, this is real heritage.' Mixie shrugged. She couldn't argue with that. Dez took another drag from his pipe and took a moment to enjoy it before he let it out in a billowing cloud. 'Allright Mixie, what've you got for me.

'Just what you see on the stick, Dez. 'Cept the spiny skull-fish, I won't force that on you.'

'Oh, sweet Mixie, always so generous. Let me guess: spine fish is going to be your dinner tonight.'

'Gotta eat something, don't I Dez?'

'You need to eat better, Mixie - I know you're no properly-rounded halfing girl, but you're getting skinny even for an elf. Might be getting more than spine tonight, though - I'll buy the octopus off you, but apart from that? Come on Mixie, does it look like I'm short of stock?' Dez batted one of the hanging rope of fish with his foot.

'It's only three fish, Dez. You know you'll be able to sell them tonight - since when have you ever had stock left over come sun-up?'

'Aye, can't say you're wrong there, but it's a question of how long I feel like hanging around here. More stock, more time I've got to spend on my stall selling it when I could be tucked up in bed.'

'You want the octopus don't you Dez? Plenty of other grills I can sell it to. You want the octopus, you gotta take the whole lot.'

'Weeel, if you throw in a discount on the others...'

'Didn't say anything about a discount Dez. Fair price for all of them, that's the deal, and there's plenty who'll take it if you won't.'

'You drive a hard bargain Mixie. Too hard for me today, as you say you'll have to find someone else to sell to. You have a good evening, though.' Halflings might be easygoing, but that didn't mean that they couldn't haggle with the best of them.

Mixie's shoulders sagged. She probably could find someone else who'd take all of them, but it had been a long day and she didn't want to drag herself all up and down the promenade trying to get rid of her catch. She just wanted to go home to Jessi. Or maybe she should just go home, back to the forests where the were no oceans and at least there'd be decent meals. Pride can only take you so far, and after a while even the look on her father's self-righteous face didn't seem like so much of a reason to stay away. Maybe it would be the responsible thing to do. She sighed. 'And a good evening to you, Dez.' She turned away and started walking, scanning the area, looking for any grills that might be a little short on fish. Then she heard Dez shout from behind her:

'Mixie! Hey, Mixie!' She turned and almost ran back to the stall.

'Yeah, Dez?' She said, trying to sound nonchalant.

'Allright, I'll take 'em, usual price. With one condition - you make sure to give me first refusal on what you catch for the next week, yeah? Especially if you get any octopus or squid.'

'Sure Dez, no problem.' Mixie's grin was almost as wide as her face as she scraped off her catch onto the stall. Dez dropped the handful of coins into her hand; they gleamed like the setting sun on the sparkling waters. Not much, in the grand scheme of things, but a decent amount and at least she had something to take home.

'Ah, Mixie. The things I do to make you smile. Now get on home, 'cause I know that boy of yours will be pining for you.'

'Thanks Dez.' shouted Mixie, already disappearing off down the promenade.

With a new energy found from somewhere, Mixie almost ran home to the little wooden driftwood hut she called home right now. It was some way away from the main town, where it got quieter away from all the hubbub, and although it wasn't much the beach was always warm and it mostly kept the rain out well enough. As it came into view, she could see that Jessi was sitting out front on the sand. He waved to her as he saw her and she waved back. She really did sprint the last stretch, jumping from the road onto the beach and skipping over the reclining forms of the day's last sunbathers. The sun was half below the horizon now, and a path of red-orange light shimmered in the waters of the bay.

Mixie skidded to a stop and propped her spear up against the hut. Then she walked over to Jessi and sat down beside him.

'Hey baby. You had a good day? How was the fishing.' There had always been something about Jessi's voice that was relaxing no matter how stressed out Mixie was, and as Jessi slipped an arm around her Mixie just melted into him.

'I actually made some money today, Jess. And I got dinner over there, I'll get started on it in a minute.'

'Hey, don't worry about that, Mix. I'll take care of dinner. All you got to do is sit right there, and hold this for me.' And with his free hand, Jessi poked at the little bundle laying his lap, snoring softly. 'Come on Joss, wakey wakey. Mama's home.'

'It's okay, you don't have to wake him if he's...'

'You should have heard him, Mix, he spent all day asking where mama was. He misses you - don't you Joss.' And as the little bundle stirred, Mixie reached over and transferred him from Jessi's lap to hers, and unrolled the blanket he was wrapped up in.

Inside the blanket, naked except for a nappy, was a eighteen-month old baby with silver hair, delicate features, but perfectly rounded ears. As he woke he scrunched up his face as if he was about to cry, but then he opened his eyes wide as he saw who was holding him.

'That's right, little dude. Some things are worth waking up for, eh?' said Jessi. 'Okay Mix, I'll get the fire going.' He got up and headed over to the hut for their cooking equipment.

'Hey there, Joss. You missed me, didn't you?' Without waiting for an answer, Mixie hugged her son close. Sitting on the sand while Jessi started stripping and cooking the spiny skull-fish, Mixie held her son on her lap and stroked his little round ears. He should be asleep by this hour, but although his head nodded down every few minutes as if he was about to drop off, he always looked up again, as if he couldn't take his eyes off her. She really needed to spend more time with him, but ironically he was the very reason she couldn't afford to stop fishing. She and Jessi might miss a meal now again, but her son had never once gone hungry yet. Still, with a little money in her pocket, maybe they could afford for her to take a day on the knick-knack stall tomorrow. Jessi ran the stall because he could do it and keep an eye on Joss at the same time, not because he was good at it. Maybe with her around it'd make some money - not as much as fishing, but still.

That could wait until tomorrow, though. Right now, all Mixie wanted to do was lie on the beach with her boyfriend and their son, and watch the stars come out. Skull-fish didn't taste that bad if you cooked it properly, and there was enough there for all three of them. They sat together on the sand, Mixie and Jessi taking turns to feed little morsels to Joss. As the last slivers of the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, leaving only the faint afterglow of the day that had been, Mixie realised that she didn't regret anything. She wouldn't be going back to the forests anytime soon - although she might enjoy seeing the look on her parents' faces when she turned up with a little half-breed baby in tow, she didn't want to do that to Joss. It was no way for a kid to grow up - it had been bad for her and it'd be worse for him as a half-elf. And they probably wouldn't even let Jessi into the forest.

Joss was asleep again, curled up in Mixie's lap. Mixie covered him up with the blanket, tucking it gently around him. And then Jessi put his arms around her waist, those big, strong, human arms, and kissed the back of her neck.

'You gonna go fishing tomorrow baby? We could use some company on the stall if you want to take a day off.' Jessi always did seem to be thinking exactly what she was. Maybe he could read her mind.

'I don't know. Maybe. I'll think about it.' Mixie replied. And she rested the back of her head on his chest, closed her eyes, and listened to the sounds of Jessi's breathing mingle with the sound of the ocean lapping at the shore.

This was Mixie's home, and it was all the home she'd ever wanted.

--End--

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

>World full of undead
>whoever holds the sword of light is alive again

On the moon resided a house.
Perhaps the word 'house' disservices it, it was an environment. A biome that served to house two individuals of origins beyond time itself.
Once, this place was a shrine, built to seal an ancient evil that plagued the world below. Together, the two who lived here would unite their powers and vanquish the evil before parting ways, one remaining on the moon, to keep watch over the evil, while the other was free to live on Earth once more. Eventually, the watcher finds a way to return to Earth using what power remained on the moon, and the cycle began again. Over the years, their relationship had taken many forms: rivals, comrades, associates, siblings. Each time, the circumstances changed, but eventually the two realized that there was only one thing they could be: lovers.

Eventually, the evil withered, and without an evil, there was no need for the two to remain on Earth.
On that time, the two decided to live on the moon. With the shrine no longer used, the place soon...evolved, using the lingering energy from their countless battles, their emotions, and their wishes to reshape the shrine. It became their home, where they would no longer have to fear being apart. Without a duty, their only wish was to live together.
In this timeless place, they spent their time watching the world below, reminiscing about the countless lives they led. They told each other secrets from ages past, from lives they had almost forgotten. When they tired of watching the Earth, then they spent it watching each other, bonding in the way two beings as old as they would. This was their home, and even though it had everything they needed, the only thing they wanted stood right next to them.

It was during the former time that they decided to share a drink. The golden one, whose being radiated innocence, offered a drink to the dark one, whose aura illuminated with the powers of the moon itself. The two held hands as they took a sip.

bump

Stealing this shit.

...

...

As already stated, a lot of missing the's, but somehow it gives it a strange quality. It reads a bit like mercenary-slang. However I would consider finding synonyms or different wordings for barrowmen. You have several sentences right after each other that use it. You could easily replace with "they" or with "the savages" or maybe even your finnish word for them.

...

"What are you thinking about now, Chi?" asked the golden one.
The dark one stared off into the distance some more. "Hey, Ko. Have you ever thought about...having a family of our own?"
"Down there?"
Chii nodded. "This time, one for just the two of us. No stand-ins, no fake identities, just the two of us, in a house down there."
"And how do you expect us to have kids?" Ko pointed out. "Neither of us were ever really that great with kids."
"Oh, hush," Chii consoled the other. "I know your children were as beautiful as you were and just as kind."
Ko giggled, its golden hair bouncing with the light of the sun. "You don't need to flirt with me, you know! There's only you in my heart, there always has been."

Chii took a moment before replying. "Right. Just us. Do you think they'd accept it?"
"By the time we get back there, to live again, I'm sure that they would." Ko was hopeful. Despite never being in the same station, despite laws and traditions forbidding them from such a union, there has been a great lot of change between them. Ko remembered the time when it was but an innocent photography school while Chii the heir of a massive fortune. There were so few barriers between them compared to previous lives, some of them were even made by Chii. Ko remembered the time it was but a slave, while Chii was a living weapon. Though they were almost the same, they still knew each other, and once they were free, they loved each other the same as any other time. In both cases, it recognized that times were changing. Perhaps, when they went down below again, they might finally be free to pursue each other without worry.
"You just have to promise that you won't hide yourself from me," Chii asked.
"This, coming from the person who tried to make me hate them twice?" jabbed Ko. "You, who always went on about how 'Ko is so perfect' and 'Ko is my angel' and - "
Chii shoved a hand to Ko's mouth. "Sh-shush! Jeez! That is so embarrassing!"

Czechfag here, once again bringing a bit of my old nonsense. I'm hangover as fuck today, so it's going to be just this very short one for now. I try and translate more later on.
Coming right on.

>Judgement
One rainy day I came across a statue of Madonna. She was standing beneath a small plague pillar on the corner of Žerotín’s square and she looked confused and lost, her slender, gothic limbs folded in a praying gesture trembled slightly in the cold spring rain. I watched her, as she stood beneath the leafless tree and small trickles of water were ran down her beautiful marble hair; in her eyes, sprinkled with rain drops and meekly turned to the ground, I thought I see sadness and exhaustion. I felt sorry for her, and wandered whenever I should not raise my voice to her, ask her if there is anything I could do for her, whenever I should take her away from the rain, to company, to warmth. But I was a shy boy at the time, and she was a beautiful lady, and besides, I did not yet know what are the rules of conduct between flesh and stone, whenever it’s even my place to meddle into affairs of marble and gold. Such statue, I thought, does not really even have to care about rain, as she does not age or worry about sickness, about mean glances of the bystanders. What kind of advice could I ever offer? How could I pretend to understand what kin of fears and frights does a statue face, what kinds of nightmares haunt her beautiful marble skull, what kind of pain lingers in a lifeless stone?
I wondered those things and the rain soaked my clothes and my hair - I began to shiver with cold. There was nobody else but me and her on the square.
And that is exactly the problem! I thought as I cleaned the water off my glasses. What right do I have to project my coldness and my loneliness on that gentle piece of masonry? What right do I have to promise warmth and company, while I stand alone and my teeth chatter in the cold? What and idiot have I been! And I suddenly felt so ashamed of myself that I ran away from the square. The statue followed me with her sad, pleading eyes until I disappeared behind a corner.

Ko's smugness was untarnished. "Don't be so ashamed about it! Your feelings were just too precious to forget!"
Chii shoved Ko a bit harder, prompting an equal response. Eventually the shoving match descended into a tumble to the floor. Their drinks spilled onto the white sands of the moon and Chii was now on top of Ko, tendrils of darkness obscuring Ko's light.
"I remember you doing this too when you're embarrassed," Ko reminisced. "It was the only way you ever got to be honest."
Chii only got more flushed. "Enough!"

The two embraced each other as they got up, their hair playing with each other in this void.
"I'm sorry, Chii." Ko began brushing the moon-dust off of its golden locks when Chii held its other closer to finish it.
"It's okay, Ko. I know I've come on a lot stronger before." It drew Ko closer. "And we've done a lot more together." For an instant, their mouths touched. "Hey, how would you like to meet down there?"
"Oh, how do they do it nowadays?" the golden one asked. "Do you think we might get assigned our partners by some massive dating website? Do you think we can break it?"
The dark one smirked. "It sounds like one of those sappy novels you wrote that one time."
"It does, doesn't it?"
Chii got up, "Do you think we'll remember everything when we get back there?"
"It wouldn't matter, would it?" Ko wondered as the other hoisted it up. "We don't have a job anymore. We don't need to worry about a destiny cutting our life together short. We have all the time in the world to remember everything."
"You're right." Chii looked again at that massive world below. Lights began flickering on as the sun turned away. "It's just...forever sounds so massive now that I think about it. How much have we missed out on? Would the places we used to visit still be there?"
Ko nuzzled close while looking at the Earth. "Like. I. Said. We have all the time in the world to find out."

"So...what do you think?" Chii asked. "Are you willing to spend one last miracle to live down there?"
"Come on now! Don't be so dramatic!" Ko realized the almost saddened tone. "As long as we both believe, there's always going to be a miracle just for us!"

Chii smiled again. "You're right, Ko. Now's our time to be a little selfish. Let's do it."
Ko eagerly grabbed Chii's hand. "Yeah. We've done all that we could, it's only fair that we go down there to live the way we wanted."

The only two occupants went into the home they knew.
As they recited rituals to return to the world below, they promised that this time, they would do so to fulfill the countless dreams they had in this timeless place. They recited the countless names they had before and chose new ones to imprint in each other's memories.

When the two came to live on Earth once more, they both knew that this would be the happiest of lifetimes.

Well, I liked the way you finnished the story, had a nice ring to it

...

...

...

...

...

And one more from your friendly Czechfag.

>A Viper
A great giant viper that has been living since forever in the drawer of my desk raised it’s head yesterday and watched me with opalescent eyes. She has been living in the drawer for many years, hissing threateningly whenever I opened it, so I fear looking into it in search of the many old documents and family photos I keep there.
“What do you want?” I asked. She is a beautiful sight, all golden scales and huge sparkling gems engraved in her skin, but I do not like her.
“I just wanted to see how you are doing.” she answered with a gentle, honey-like voice.
“I’m doing just as I always had since you moved in here.” I answered annoyedly.
“And why’s that?”
“I can’t do anything about my life.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m terrified of you! You sleep there comfortably on my memories and tools, so I can’t even pick them up. And I know that at night, you slither around the room, messing up my books and papers and breaking wine glasses. I faked my sleep and saw you rampaging at night. I don’t even remember what it was like living without a constant fear of a poisonous snake, ever threatening to bite me.”
(1/3)

“I would not be breaking the glasses if you haven’t been drinking so much.” answered the creature. “And I only wander your room at night to guard you from night visitors and bad dreams. You should be thankful.”
“How am I supposed to not drink when I’m too afraid to even fall asleep sober!”
“You, afraid of me?” laughed the viper. “I know all too well how you boast about me in front of your friends! During hot noons, when I sleep after a whole night of guarding you, you bring over ladies to show me off. I can hear them ohh and ahh. “Oh how beautiful she is!” they say, “how she glitters in the sun!” And how you make excuses because of me! You are all “I can’t go anywhere, I have to mind the viper, so that her golden scales don’t fall out”. People pay you just for telling them stories about me. You make your living out of me, and yet here you are whining and blaming me for your misery.”
“What else am I to do, when you took everything else from me?!” I said in desperation. “I was happier before you chose my desk for your lair.”
“I didn’t chose your table. You yourself nursed me, took care of me since you were a little boy. You used to carry me as an egg in the pocket of your coat, so that I would be safe and warm, and once my time came, you yourself carefully placed me into this nest of papers and memories.”
I did not know what to say. Frankly, the snake has been living with me for so long that I forgot what my life was before.
“So be careful what you wish for.” continued the viper, her gentle voice sounding like a song. “Because one day, I might be really gone - not a single golden scale left behind. What will you do then? You’ll find that the drawer has been empty all the time, there is no treasure in here, just me and dust. What would you do without me? I’m the only one who has been with you all the time, waiting for you every day when you come home late at night, lonely and drunk.”
(2/3)

“God damn you creature!” I cried out. “I come home alone, because you scared all the ladies so much they refused to even sleep in my bed!”
“And when you were at their places, you could not even fall asleep, you crept out of their beds when they fell asleep to crawl back to me. And how you worried that one of them might steal me away from you!”
I threw a book at the damn creature in anger, but the viper just smiled and lowered it’s head back into the drawer.
Later that evening, I was sitting in a pub with a friend and complained about the creature.
“The snake is ruining your life.” said my friend. “You should really get rid of her. Sell the desk, move out of that lonely room, or poison her and sell her skin on eBay.”
“What if she speaks the truth though?” I asked in desperation.
“Then you’ll need to get a new roommate. Ever thought of raising parrots?”
I stared at him and wondered what would my life be like if instead of a snake, there was a parrot waiting in my room, throwing word I ever uttered back at me, reminding me of every silly thing I ever said.

(3/3)

Translation, as ever, is a bit dodgy and stuff. That is all from me for tonight.

thought provoking, slightly surreal, with a touch of melancholy. Much like your other work, in fact. Good job.

Never thought anyone would find it "thought provoking". It's actually a combination of ideas from lectures of a man named Jordan Peterson, and similar short stories written by Michal Ajvaz, one of the best Czech authors of the last few decades. And a heap of simple personal experience.
Thanks for the kind words. I'll probably have some more later this week, maybe I'll fit it in this thread.

...

...

...