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Dragon Below! - Chapter Four: No Rest, No Peace
     On the day of Vane’s funeral the Sorceress Queen called for a holiday. Criers had been sent into the city to inform her subjects of the event, and of her desire that all citizens take this time to remember those lost since the birth of the Gorge. In Dorr, the vast plains-nation west of the plateau a similar practice was kept whenever one of noble blood passed away, declaring a day of the dead. She thought it appropriate, for her consort had come from that stock, the son of a merchant lord out of Hansfil, but too she saw it as a way to give respect for all the rest. Tanum had not rested since that night when the spires crumbled, and
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Dragon Below! - Chapter Two: Raker's Rock
     Crouched in the gloom of a long-abandoned wolf’s den Lode opened one eye, for one eye was all he had. A sound in the night, like the scuffing of a moccasin against a loose patch of stones and grit, and a sharp, if faint sucking of a hiss cut short. Then a stifled mutter, followed by the scent of brunt leaves. Company; unexpected but prepared for out of habit. He licked at dry lips, easing his dirk from it’s sheath.    All right, he thought, inching back, away from his approaching hunters. They finally got it in their heads to send out the autumn witch. Great. That shaman’s toy better do the trick. Damn hustler. As qui
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Dragon Below! - Chapter One: Bad Company
    1103rd Year of the Fragmentation Epoch    Almost a year since unknown sorceries rocked the plateau Tanum still bore the wounds of the violent birth of the Gorge. Her great spires, those still standing, tilted at gut wrenching angles while crews worked night and day to dismantle them and the remains of their counterparts still littered the streets. Entire avenues were blocked by wreckage, homes destroyed, lives crushed by tonnes of stone and mortar. But the people of the city were nothing if not resilient, and as she wandered about in the guise of a hooded penitent woman the Sorceress Queen, Karina Karr was proud of her subjects. New hom
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Dragon Below! - Prologue
     1102 Year of the Fragmentation Epoch    He met the old crew on the darkened plain, four raggedy and muted figures materializing from the gloom, drawn from cardinal directions. They came unheeded to the appointed spot, to the salient angle of a worn down megalith leaning alone on Corvin’s Plateau. And though pitch ruled the plains beneath the overcast sky, from the cyclopean stone a soft pale glow lit their features, stirring up conceits about the ravages of time.    Damn, but we got old, he thought, wincing inwardly when he saw how much hair Jacepi was missing from his head, not to mention the extra layers of fat bulging above
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Ain't No Redemption - Chapter Two
Talents for Trouble   'Before pistols, the sword was the first choice of the duelist. And before that it was knives. Seems to be we're doing all we can t'get as far away from the killing as possible. Soon enough, folk'll be challenging each other from across country, with rifles so powerful you can pick the eye off a crow from a thousand leagues, never once seeing the looks on the faces on those they gun down.    Now why do I feel like this is an honest to Olden shame?'    - Longshot Quade,    3025 - 3090 AFL    The steady rhythm of the train-car's progress, the monotonous rhythm unending, was putting Jairo to sleep. Nothing to see
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The Danger of Following Dreams
By Marshall Norman McCarthy In all his life in the Time Before he'd never once set foot in an airport. Never enough money to go anywhere by air, his childhood had been one of hours-long car trips to the wild north, where nature ruled with an ironwood fist. He'd dreamed it, sure, of riding the skies clear across depthless oceans to the distant lands of his ancestors. Now he imagined those lands were just as empty as his own. Leaning one filthy hand on the concrete barrier of the overpass, the other holding binoculars up to his eyes, he studied Pearson Airport with the cautious scrutiny of survival. He hadn't seen anyone for days, and that la
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Ain't No Redemption - Chapter One
Of Gunpowder Deeds    There are many ways to kill a man. A blade in the night, poison in his drink, or hands around his throat. For the unjust, who ride the wastes on malignant steeds, the question of death had many answers.    To those who sit on the thrones of justice, with scrutiny in their eyes and the word of the law upon their tongues, the answer was the hangman's gallows or the headman's block.    For he who stalks this Fragment, where the Deadman himself comes to play, the question of death has but one answer. But he is willing to repeat it six times.    -From, The Lay of the Gunfighter,    Thibian Crass, 3092 AFL    The Dead
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Just Have a Good Day
By Marshall Norman McCarthy Just have a good day. He dragged the razor across his cheek, wincing as it tore instead of cut. Just have a good day. Were his eyes always this sunken; were the bags beneath them always so dark? Just have a good day. How was his wife still able to look at him with that old spark, the one that hadn't guttered out over the years?   'Just have a good day,' he repeated his mantra to his reflection, putting down the razor and checking his work. Free of stubble, yet his face seemed haggard, worn; another day's journey towards the end.   All his life he'd been told that men age gracefully, that they get better, more hand
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Dragon Below! - Chapter Four: No Rest, No Peace
     On the day of Vane’s funeral the Sorceress Queen called for a holiday. Criers had been sent into the city to inform her subjects of the event, and of her desire that all citizens take this time to remember those lost since the birth of the Gorge. In Dorr, the vast plains-nation west of the plateau a similar practice was kept whenever one of noble blood passed away, declaring a day of the dead. She thought it appropriate, for her consort had come from that stock, the son of a merchant lord out of Hansfil, but too she saw it as a way to give respect for all the rest. Tanum had not rested since that night when the spires crumbled, and
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Dragon Below! - Chapter Two: Raker's Rock
     Crouched in the gloom of a long-abandoned wolf’s den Lode opened one eye, for one eye was all he had. A sound in the night, like the scuffing of a moccasin against a loose patch of stones and grit, and a sharp, if faint sucking of a hiss cut short. Then a stifled mutter, followed by the scent of brunt leaves. Company; unexpected but prepared for out of habit. He licked at dry lips, easing his dirk from it’s sheath.    All right, he thought, inching back, away from his approaching hunters. They finally got it in their heads to send out the autumn witch. Great. That shaman’s toy better do the trick. Damn hustler. As qui
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Dragon Below! - Chapter One: Bad Company
    1103rd Year of the Fragmentation Epoch    Almost a year since unknown sorceries rocked the plateau Tanum still bore the wounds of the violent birth of the Gorge. Her great spires, those still standing, tilted at gut wrenching angles while crews worked night and day to dismantle them and the remains of their counterparts still littered the streets. Entire avenues were blocked by wreckage, homes destroyed, lives crushed by tonnes of stone and mortar. But the people of the city were nothing if not resilient, and as she wandered about in the guise of a hooded penitent woman the Sorceress Queen, Karina Karr was proud of her subjects. New hom
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D
Dragon Below! - Prologue
     1102 Year of the Fragmentation Epoch    He met the old crew on the darkened plain, four raggedy and muted figures materializing from the gloom, drawn from cardinal directions. They came unheeded to the appointed spot, to the salient angle of a worn down megalith leaning alone on Corvin’s Plateau. And though pitch ruled the plains beneath the overcast sky, from the cyclopean stone a soft pale glow lit their features, stirring up conceits about the ravages of time.    Damn, but we got old, he thought, wincing inwardly when he saw how much hair Jacepi was missing from his head, not to mention the extra layers of fat bulging above
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Ain't No Redemption - Chapter Two
Talents for Trouble   'Before pistols, the sword was the first choice of the duelist. And before that it was knives. Seems to be we're doing all we can t'get as far away from the killing as possible. Soon enough, folk'll be challenging each other from across country, with rifles so powerful you can pick the eye off a crow from a thousand leagues, never once seeing the looks on the faces on those they gun down.    Now why do I feel like this is an honest to Olden shame?'    - Longshot Quade,    3025 - 3090 AFL    The steady rhythm of the train-car's progress, the monotonous rhythm unending, was putting Jairo to sleep. Nothing to see
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T
The Danger of Following Dreams
By Marshall Norman McCarthy In all his life in the Time Before he'd never once set foot in an airport. Never enough money to go anywhere by air, his childhood had been one of hours-long car trips to the wild north, where nature ruled with an ironwood fist. He'd dreamed it, sure, of riding the skies clear across depthless oceans to the distant lands of his ancestors. Now he imagined those lands were just as empty as his own. Leaning one filthy hand on the concrete barrier of the overpass, the other holding binoculars up to his eyes, he studied Pearson Airport with the cautious scrutiny of survival. He hadn't seen anyone for days, and that la
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Ain't No Redemption - Chapter One
Of Gunpowder Deeds    There are many ways to kill a man. A blade in the night, poison in his drink, or hands around his throat. For the unjust, who ride the wastes on malignant steeds, the question of death had many answers.    To those who sit on the thrones of justice, with scrutiny in their eyes and the word of the law upon their tongues, the answer was the hangman's gallows or the headman's block.    For he who stalks this Fragment, where the Deadman himself comes to play, the question of death has but one answer. But he is willing to repeat it six times.    -From, The Lay of the Gunfighter,    Thibian Crass, 3092 AFL    The Dead
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Just Have a Good Day
By Marshall Norman McCarthy Just have a good day. He dragged the razor across his cheek, wincing as it tore instead of cut. Just have a good day. Were his eyes always this sunken; were the bags beneath them always so dark? Just have a good day. How was his wife still able to look at him with that old spark, the one that hadn't guttered out over the years?   'Just have a good day,' he repeated his mantra to his reflection, putting down the razor and checking his work. Free of stubble, yet his face seemed haggard, worn; another day's journey towards the end.   All his life he'd been told that men age gracefully, that they get better, more hand
50
79
A
Ain't No Redemption - Chapter Two
Talents for Trouble   'Before pistols, the sword was the first choice of the duelist. And before that it was knives. Seems to be we're doing all we can t'get as far away from the killing as possible. Soon enough, folk'll be challenging each other from across country, with rifles so powerful you can pick the eye off a crow from a thousand leagues, never once seeing the looks on the faces on those they gun down.    Now why do I feel like this is an honest to Olden shame?'    - Longshot Quade,    3025 - 3090 AFL    The steady rhythm of the train-car's progress, the monotonous rhythm unending, was putting Jairo to sleep. Nothing to see
23
3
A
Ain't No Redemption - Chapter One
Of Gunpowder Deeds    There are many ways to kill a man. A blade in the night, poison in his drink, or hands around his throat. For the unjust, who ride the wastes on malignant steeds, the question of death had many answers.    To those who sit on the thrones of justice, with scrutiny in their eyes and the word of the law upon their tongues, the answer was the hangman's gallows or the headman's block.    For he who stalks this Fragment, where the Deadman himself comes to play, the question of death has but one answer. But he is willing to repeat it six times.    -From, The Lay of the Gunfighter,    Thibian Crass, 3092 AFL    The Dead
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to everything there is a season
I. as a flower or a man, i shall burst, and scatter. as a corpse, i shall peel away, and return to the earth, the air. i'll be in your lungs yet. II. look, it’s not that i’m not a little bit charmed by the concentric circles of existence, and the love, the bitter, bright and stinking love. it’s not that i don’t like carrying this body that is a miracle, a miracle in the sum of its parts. kahlo got it, she knew what she was talking about – but i won’t put words in a dead woman’s mouth. and the hot sweat of it here, the pain, the fuck and the sour wine of it here, it isn’t really chaining
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Immune
I do not pretend the earth loves me. Darwin breathes down my neck. The ocean breathes down my bones. I am a flute hollowed by spittle and rain. And I am not special, nor alone. I had an ear infection when I was newborn. Two hundred years ago I would have died from it. I would have been cut short - small and screaming. Every time I step outside at night, the trees tell me: you’re not safe. A thousand antibiotics can’t make you safe. I’m not frightened. I would lie myself down and wait for the tide. I would do it any day.
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color me challenge
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Help us Fund our new Zombie Apocalypse Anthology
Help us put out the most awesome Zombie Apocalypse Anthology EVER and get some truly awesome prizes too. Click the link below to see the fundraiser. http://igg.me/at/dna2014/x/6333003 Check it out, and help us bring you the best Zombie Apocalypse Anthology in existence. And maybe even find your new favorite author before they're famous. There's also still time to get a story or illustration into the collection until the end of March. submit entries here http://deviant-nightmares.deviantart.com/ and find out more about the anthology. Feel free to ask any questions.
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Lit Contest: The More Things Change
...the more they stay the same. Iiiiit's contest time! All original literature welcome. This is a speculative fiction contest—the technology requirement could cover steampunk, 'John Carter,' 'The Windup Girl,' 'Watchmen,' '2001: A Space Odyssey' or about anything else you can think of. The one thing that isn't permissible is magic. That was a joke. RULESYour story must center around the development of a relationship between two entities. Some things to consider:What kind of relationship is it? (No, "relationship" doesn't have to mean "romance.")Who/what is it between?Is the development positive/negative? The relationship must be n
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Barmaid's Quest - Chapter 1
chapter one of pewter mugs and guides to acceptance SLAM! The misshapen pewter mug was, well, slammed forcefully on to the bar, beer sloshing over the rim and pooling on the wooden surface. In the cloud of smoke and voices and people that filled the tavern, no one was really paying much attention to the little drama unfolding. Travellers from many miles away were enthusiastically having their first try of authentic Piddling cider, followed by foggily wondering if the drink was just named after the town, or if Piddling had a different meaning altogether. Locals were discussing their farms, smoking, gambling and leering at unfortunate young
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to you, to you
well this could be okay, this could be all right, i can be bitter like lime to you, sun burn on your neck to you, a heat mirage, a sand grit lullaby in the sticky hateful nights to you yeah this could be good, a thousand little ways i can hurt you, a thousand little blood-tipped feathers i can give you (sweet thing) a thousand little winces i can collect from you, a thousand little flinches as you pull the needles from your skin not enough of me left to tear myself to pieces over you, and someone’s gotta burn this time around, friend it’s gotta be you, friend.
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The day that robs a child of his parents
        It was night and there was a fire. Wood crackled nearby, but he could not feel its warmth. Neither could he smell the sweet scent of it. His head throbbed terribly and he felt it was fit to burst. There was an uncustomary weightlessness about his wrists. So accustomed was he to the irons that in its absence, it was nothing short of peculiar. He lifted his hand, but was met with such pain in his shoulder that he gasped audibly, and his stomach clenched.        When he could ease a single breath out, he unclenched his fists, the damp sheet he had gripped remained crumpled beside his face. Strips of pale cloth had indeed replaced the f
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Mar 9
Canada
Deviant for 6 years
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NaNoWriMo and Me
Offical NaNo Word Count, verified at 11:30pm last night: 50,074. I felt like Indiana Jones, sliding under the door as it comes down, then snatching back for my hat in the nick of time. Overall, and I hope you don't mind if I use a second movie anology, I'd say NaNo this year was like the sword duel in the Princess Bride: I was getting ahead of pace, but NaNo revealed; 'I'm not left-handed!' and we sparred on, this time NaNo with the upper-hand. But I held my own, managing to keep pace, but slowly, surely, losing ground to this master swordsman. That is, until, late in the fight, I revealed, with a rogue's grin, that I too was not Left-handed
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So, deviantART has status updates and uses hashtags. I guess that's the way of things now... ...damnit, just like Facebook, I wasted way too much time typing out a long status update I ended up thinking was stupid and deleting. F***ing, Steven Harper ...
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pearwood's avatar
pearwoodHobbyist Photographer
:cake:
Sleyf's avatar
SleyfHobbyist General Artist
Happy birthday! :cake:
Sleyf's avatar
SleyfHobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the fave!
mnmccarthy's avatar
mnmccarthyHobbyist Writer
You got it! I've got a lot of catching up to do now, since you've gone and wrote a whole freaking novel! :D
Sleyf's avatar
SleyfHobbyist General Artist
Lol, it's just little chapters for fun really, nothing serious :D (or at least, it's not meant to be...professional lol)
mnmccarthy's avatar
mnmccarthyHobbyist Writer
You know, I've come believe that this whole writing thing, no matter what level you want to attain, is pointless if you can't have fun. I seem to recall you being hesitant to show your writing before (or am simply remembering things wrong, which, knowing me, could be the case). It's good to see your stuff is what I'm saying. The visual stuff included, it's fantastic . For what it's worth, I think you're pretty talented. There, I say it.
Sleyf's avatar
SleyfHobbyist General Artist
I agree, I mean there's no point in doing anything unless you can enjoy it right? (yes that was me! I'm still nervous about it, but just think to myself - "I'm doing it for fun and shouldn't take it too seriously")
Aww thanks! :hug:
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