Two Destroyers, Prologue -- An EndTwo titans of flame collided in midair, erupted, and sent out a terrible blast in their wake. Blinding light filled the city of Agellas, rending stone towers to pebbles and people to ash.
Zammela sat at the eye of the blast. Buildings were flung aside like toys; the ground had peeled and shattered. Countless screams were silenced, all in a brutal plume of fire.
She curled against the Stranger in an act of desperation and redoubled her magic into the protective sphere that surrounded her friends. The sun's rage clawed against the condensed energies surrounding her and devoured it slowly. The sphere collapsed, peeling away slowly until it protected only her and the still body in her arms.
Her focus dwindled and the shield fell away, but the explosion had passed. The lingering maelstrom pulled at her robes and kicked up dust and ash. The ring of flame pushed outward by untold miles, searing the land and fading into the distance.
Only a blanket
If It Meant Living: Tales - LeviathanIf It Meant Living: Tales - Leviathan1 year ago in Sci-Fi More Like This
If It Meant Living: Tales
Title: If It Meant Living: Tales – "Leviathan"
Game: Mass Effect Trilogy
Disclaimer: Bioware owns all rights to Mass Effect and its characters
Content Warning: Language, Violence
November, 2190: Four Years After the End of the Reaper War
Blackdamp, Asteria: Hekate System, Hades Nexus
Liara swore she could feel her skin drying and cracking apart as soon as they stepped off the transport and into the spaceport. She hadn’t been on a planet this hot outside of a combat mission since the eight months spent on Therum a lifetime ago…and even Therum hadn’t been this damn dry.
As she glanced over at Shepard walking alongside her, she suddenly wondered why she continued to adhere to the customary Asari style of dres
The Dragon MechanicThe door was locked.The Dragon Mechanic4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
* * *
Septimer had vague memories of being six, curled up in her uncle's lap while he sat at his great big ink-stained writing table and sketched out diagrams of gears and machines and dragons. His clothes smelled subtly of car exhaust and molten metal, but it was a smell she loved because it was her uncle's smell. In his dim study, the only light was that of his tall desk lamp and Loki's red eyes, like dying embers, burning faintly in the shadows at the back of the room. Her great mechanical heartbeat filled the room with a slow, deep, steady pulse.
While her uncle worked and Septimer watched, her eyes barely peeking over the rim of the desk, he would tell her of how Loki's namesake, a trickster god of Norse mythology, wrapped himself in a cloak of feathers and flew to the ends of the earth in search of Thor's hammer. She dreamt endlessly of climbing onto Loki's back and sitting just between the giant's beating wings, wrapping her arms around his neck while the wo
Transhuman MegalomaniaDefinition: Not a new mental illness. Refers to victims of megalomania whose modified abilities justify the subject's sense of importance.Transhuman Megalomania6 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
Due to the ubiquitous nature of mods, cybernetic, nanotechnological, bioengineered, psionic, or transubstantiative, it is inevitable that certain megalomaniacs are also high-powered modders. Ascertaining whether the illness induced the subject's extensive modification or if modding cements the illness has generally been dismissed as a chicken-or-the-egg conundrum.
There is little to be done for treatment of hyper-megalomaniacs, other than necessary acts of subdual and detainment. Treatment can begin after the subject is forcibly deprived of mods and demoted to a baseline megalomania status.
The Satyr's CrownThe Satyr's CrownThe Satyr's Crown2 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Beyond my village is a wood where demons lie in wait.
None dare to tempt them with their blood, nor gamble with their fate.
Yet late one night I wake alone within the forest, deep;
unsure of how I left my home while still in bed, asleep.
My gown is torn where I had walked through brambles with bare feet.
In pain and sweat I had not balked at summer's nighttime heat.
I shake to think of what I've done; I'd meet my end for sure.
Yet when I turn as if to run I see that I've been lured.
Before me stands a satyr, tall, with pan flute in his hand.
He'd played a tune that, to me, called; I'd come at his command.
At first I fear to look upon the demon's monstrous face,
but then I see the spiraled horns are fastened on with lace.
Atop a mask that hides his eyes, entangled in his hair,
a crown of thorn and thistle lies; in power and despair.
I know him then, and fear no more. I take his hands in mine.
I'd met him in a dream before, and kissed his lips that time.
Tip of AbandoningThere once was a feelingTip of Abandoning4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Of fright, of dark shadows covering me like a skin, being absorbed in my nerves like itchy lotion, freezing my bones and aggressively filling them with helpless fear, agony and ear shattering cries.
There once was a feeling
Of Emptiness, my heart breaking itself to particles, A harsh though of loneliness dipped deep in my wailing soul, trapped within myself, can’t break free from nothingness.
There once was a feeling
As if I’m drowning, in the deepest crevices of the hungry, unfaithful ocean. Emotion of roaring in timid suffocation, drowning down for long painful hours without hitting the sea bed.
We Will Not YieldWe will not yield.We Will Not Yield3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Yes, this day may be lost in the oblivion of time.
Yes, our lives,
the very memory of our existence
may be wiped from the earth for all eternity.
Yes, our homes,
our livestock may burn.
So maybe the enemy will win.
Maybe the tyrant that has taken over our lives,
Drowning us all in fear,
Will not be defeated today.
So maybe the lives we've scraped out
Will be blown away like so much ash in the wind.
Maybe this battle will be lost.
Maybe we will fail.
But if that is the cost of standing up for what is right...
...We will not yield.
Winter WindYears may seem to blow by like the winter wind, slow and steadyWinter Wind2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And in the months while tinsel shimmers, stockings are dangling, chestnuts roasting
The stars are gilded by darkened clouds and snowy skies, lonesome others may seem
But there's no need to be lonesome because the stars for me shall always beam
And while friends fade away unknowingly like a dying flame in a frosted lantern
When words seem all a thin nothing, a lie or smoking mirrored fable
While snowflakes fall to chill all that they touch
The warm gingerbread in the oven won't make it matter that much
When the ice comes to spear down from crackling shingles
And no longer can I see the sun rise or the sun set
No matter how deceitful the cloud masked sky
The Northern Star will never pass me by
And if the current should steer me away from the shore I might have screamed
When the waves come to devour me whole and white cold try to swallow me up
I have faith the man in the moon will throw me his trusty fishing hook
And pull me