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Everyone is welcome to join in, doing as many or as few of the exercises as they'd like -- however, I will be keeping score and declaring a winner for each month, for those who are feeling competitive! ;)

This thread will include exercises for Monday 9/8 to Friday 9/12.

Rules:

Don't reply to people's exercise posts, because they may want to edit. If you have feedback, post it in the latest feedback thread.

Scoring is NOT based on any kind of judgment on my part. If you do an exercise, you get ten points. If you do the bonus, you get another five points. I'll award partial credit where it makes sense. Scores reset at the end of every month. 

Scoring:

@NightBirdBlue - 0
@Swiftstryker - 45
@the_quiller - 75
@ItAintPretty - 30
@Romulus - 0
@Kiel_Farren - 0
@Malkalack - 0
@Morgan_R - 0
@betaband - 10
@ISentinelPenguinI - 0
@TaraGil - 45
@31TeV - 27
@Briar_Rose - 0
@Danaos - 0
@LostConnection - 0
@jamescoker1226 - 0
@Cynical - 0
@TacocaT - 0
@coins - 0
@Virtualide - 12
@Fireplay - 0
@nmelssx - 0
@mek7 - 75

If you would like to be removed from this list, please PM me. If you want to be added, just do an exercise!

DO NOT REPLY TO THIS POST, PLEASE AND THANK YOU.

Monday, September 8, 2014:

Write five first sentences. Use at least one of the following themes: Insomnia. Forgetfulness. Being late. 9_9

Bonus: Expand one of your sentences into a scene.

1. You know you're screwed when one of the Twelve Annihilators shows up on your doorstep.
2. I was late, and I wasn't going to let anything get in my way.
3. You thought it was going to be just another one of those sleepless nights, but you were wrong - very wrong.
4. Once upon a time, there died a little girl called Baldilocks.
5. What was I going to say...?

Bonus
You know you're screwed when one of the Twelve Annihilators shows up on your doorstep. Poor Titus just stood there in shock, unable to move or defend himself. I couldn't bear to look as Larobota raised her arm, Titus flinching, terrified. I ducked down from my window and just sat there, cowering. I don't know what they wanted from us in such a tiny little village, but whatever it was, it was bad news for us.

After a few hours had passed, I finally plucked up the courage to step quietly out of the house. Cautiously, I checked every corner of Titus' house, nearly having a heart attack at every little thing. I physically jumped up into the air when I heard the hooting of an owl. Not a trace of my neighbour or the Annihilator was left, nor any broken furniture or missing ornaments, as far as I could tell. Titus' place was as immaculately tidy as usual. It was as if he had popped out to the farm and nothing had happened. But I knew better. Titus was gone for good. Such was the way of the Annihilators.

It then occurred to me that all this might have to do with his parents. But, unbeknownst to me, the time I was spending pondering such things only made things worse.

1. That damned infernal clock ticks in time with the dripping bathroom sink!
2. Where in the world did I put that — that thing?
3. There went the plane that I should've been on.
4. She glares at me from beyond the shadows, watching my every movement with covetous anticipation.
5. If I don't fall asleep soon, I'll never make it to — that place I'm supposed to be on time.

    Where in the world did I put that — that thing?  I know it's here somewhere.  I'm already running late.  If I don't find it I may not make it there before they leave.

    "Have you seen it, Dave?"

    "Seen what?"

    "You know, that thing I had yesterday?"

    "I don't even remember what I had for breakfast!  How am I supposed to know what you had yesterday!?!"

    "Nevermind!  I'll find it myself!"

    Where in the world could it be?  I know I had it in here when I was...  I was using it right here...!  It couldn't have just grown legs and walked out on its' own!  Ugh!  Am I gonna have tear up the whole house to find it!?!

    "Oh!  Here it is!  I found it!  Gotta go!"

1) Bruce had a long day of work, and all he wanted to do was take his medication, go to bed, and pretend that he could still fall asleep before the wee hours.

2) Even though her husband came home late on Fridays, Patricia would always wait for him to lay down next to her before falling asleep, until one day, when she smelt the lingering scent of another woman's perfume on his clothes.

3) The howling wind was far louder than anything without a face had a right to be, leaving me with my heart beating and my eyes open till far past my bed time.

4) My parents must have thought I was asleep and couldn't hear them in the other room, but they were wrong, since they kept me awake with their cussing each other out and arguing about stupid things through the paper-thing walls.

5) If anyone knew what I was doing and asked how I slept at night, I would say that I simply didn't.

The howing wind was far louder than anything without a face had a right to be, leaving me with my heart beating and my eyes open til far past my bed time. Needless to say, it was a dark and windy night, and I couldn't sleep. Turning my head to the right, I saw that my alarm clock read 12:00 in red, illuminated digits. It made sense. Nobody used the thing since we all moved to phones, not even me, who decided to plug it in my room for some reason. Oh well. Knowing the time wouldn't help me beat this sleeplessness.

Turning my head towards my bedroom door that someone opened ajar, I noticed a beam of light slipping through. Grandma must have left the hallway light on, again. She forgets many things in her old age. This is just one of them. I slipped out bed and tiptoed towards the light. Perhaps I would sleep easier if I turned it off. The little creeks my steps made as I creeped toward the door made me uneasy. At this time of night, the smallest sound could wake anything. Fortunately, I made it to the door without hearing anyone stir from their sleep. I breathed a sigh of relief and reached for the doorknob.

Something behind me slammed the door shut; I turned around; I screamed.

1. You glance at the clock. 'Time for rest', you think to yourself and almost laugh aloud. If you can even call the following thought addled hours "rest". 

2. "It's not merely about being "forgetful", it's about my future-what's going to happen if I don't fix this!" I said, a bit too sharply.

3. "Alright, you've got this! Use at least one of the following themes: Insomnia, being late, and....um..."

4. BOOM, BOOM. BOOM, BOOM. The usual 'tick, tock' has turned into an assault you must dismiss.

5. Breakfast, shower, wake up roommate. The routine resumes. 

(Scene) Breakfast, shower, wake up roommate. The routine resumes. 

This morning, you wake up and glance at your alarm clock. A few minutes before your alarm-good. You'll arrive in plenty of time for your exam.

You go into autopilot: breakfast, shower, wake up roo-- You're suddenly jolted awake. 

"Hey, we've got to go!" your friend says, hurriedly. Confused and bleary-eyed, you allow your vision to focus.

Five minutes before class. Your heart nearly leaves your chest as your realize...

You just dreamt your morning routine. 

1. He turned off the light, walked outside, walked back in, checked the stove, walked outside again, walked back in again, checked the stove again, out, in, stove, out, in, stove, again and again almost a dozen times before he realized something was wrong.

2. "Speak now or forever hold your peace," said the Priest, and there was a long silence before the the mad king sealed the princess's fate with a kiss; only then did the church doors burst open and the hero shouted, "Objection!"

3. I watched the bead of water collect on the end of the stalactite, quiver, and then fall before counting in my head, "Seventy-nine million, eight-hundred and eighty-four thousand, three-hundred and twenty-five..."

4. "You'll never take me alive!" he shouted, reaching inside his jacket for his gun before realizing that his holster was empty, then reaching inside his pocket for his knife before finding his pocket empty as well, and then finally laughing awkwardly as he slowly put his hands up in the air and amended, "Unless you'd rather discuss this like gentlemen?"

5. Our hero is indeed fashionably late - he's still dressed dashingly even with his brains splattered all over the wall behind him.

Bonus:

Our hero is indeed fashionably late - he's still dressed dashingly even with his brains splattered all over the wall behind him.

"I thought we agreed you'd at least give this one a fighting chance," I remark dryly from my suspended cage.

Our resident evil overlord gives me a baleful look from where he sits on his vile throne, clad in ominous armor covered in spikes and swathed in a sweeping blood-red cloak. Well, alright, I can't actually see his eyes through the slits of his helmet, but I just know he's giving me that baleful glare of his.

"I gave him an hour to shut up. That monologue was ridiculous," deadpans the Great Evil, Scourge of Fanadis, Master of a Thousand Nights - though he asked me to call him Corvin. He doesn't sound sorry in the least.

"But he still made it all the way up here," I point out. "When was the last time anyone even made it past the pit trap on the fourth floor?"

Corvin just grunts, halfway through removing the ridiculous helmet on his head. Contrary to popular belief, he doesn't have glowing eyes of hellfire, black scales, and pointed teeth. He's actually fair-headed with brown eyes, so average-looking that the entire-face concealing helmet is necessary just to convince the constant influx of heroes that he really is who he says he is.

Tossing the helmet unceremoniously over his shoulder, he asks, "Did you want to wear these stupid outfits for however long his monologue was going to be?"

That's - actually, that's a fair point. I glance down at my gem-encrusted bodice and the layers upon layers of fluffy white lace that form a skirt at least three times larger than I am. I'm probably the fairest princess in all seven kingdoms. (Though to be perfectly honest, this would be a much more impressive boast if all the other six royal families weren't so insistent on continuing their traditional inbreeding.) This dress still makes me look like a wedding cake gone horribly wrong.

I sigh and admit, "No, not particularly."

Corvin waves his hand casually and the cage lowers back down to the floor. I unlatch it - the locks are all for show - and step out neatly, careful not to snag my skirt on anything.

1. Don't.  Ask.  I've been...staring...at the white.  For so...long...so...long...so...long...so...

2. I figured I'd keep a diary / journal, since I've been diagnosed with short-term memory los...wait, what was thi- oh...nevermind.

3. You wanna know why I killed him, right?  Well...he was late, late for a very important date.

4.  To some extent, I was right.  The world was scripted so that Talia would forget about today's hangout.  That'd have to be changed.

5. Alzheimer's disease does not necessarily victimize the affected; rather, it, like a bomb, knocks down the lives of the people close enough to the blast.  I was one them.

To some extent, I was right.  The world was scripted so that Talia would forget about today's hangout.  That'd have to be changed.

"Open Bastet Window."

[Bastet Window opened.]

"Open Source Code for entity ID : Talia."

[Error : No ID recognized as Talia.]

"Shit."

[No target to execute command : Shit.]

"Open all Human Entity Source Codes to Admin."

[25 targets recognized.

ID : 2700037
ID : 2700038
ID : 2700039
ID : 2700105
ID : 2700106
ID : 2700265
ID : 2700398
ID : 2700399
...
ID : 2700405]

"Goddammit."

[Goddammit not a valid command.]

I sighed, and with a squint, had to open up carefully, one at a time, each person I knew.  There was the old man, who went by the name of John, and then there was Talia's mother, Naomi, and then there was her dad...who didn't elect to give his name.  Then there was the guy who found me my first day here...Esther.  A woodsman with a name no woodsman should have, but I kept it to myself.

"Label selected ID : Naomi.
Label selected ID : Talia's Father.
Label selected ID : Esther Purgen"

I had my suspicions about the father.  Besides his...disturbingly androgynous appearances and grace, he looked nothing like the daughter...or even human, for that matter.  Well, you'd notice from a distance he was like a human : dark hair, two eyes, two ears, the whole shebang, but when you came closer, there would be this...presence.  Like you were talking to a robot or an animal.

I'm not exactly "human" in this world, either, but still...he gave me the creeps.  Even his coding was sparse and weird : he had an ever-shifting command pattern.

I'm just a script kiddie, but...well, I don't wanna touch something I can't fix.

On the other hand, Talia was a lot easier.  There was a little something knocking out her files, a supposed "trait" that she got from her mother (who's code made the forgetfulness trait invalid).  I replaced that with a sent to Mid-Term memories, so at least she might remember longer...

"Hiya, boy.  Watch'ya doing up there?"

Ah shit, I didn't get to labeling Davin yet.  A curious...brat, I guess.  He'd always pretend to be shocked, but he never really was surprised by the more complex things I could do.

"The...magic, thing.  Again.  Bastet Window : Close."

[Bastet Window closed. Goodbye.]

She wandered amiably through the shadowy streets, turning sharp corners randomly and occasionally ducking into narrow alleyways, clearly highlighting the fact that she was completely and utterly lost. 

With his new job, Harry knew without doubt that any forgetfulness or impudence would be punished severely, there was no room for fuck-ups when you were working on top-secret documents. 

The bomb squad was ten minutes too late. 

After he realised he had huge gaps in his consciousness, where he had no idea where he was or what he was doing, he broke down to the police and accepted the charges. 

Thomas could never sleep soundly when he was alone in a house, but the strange noises in his new basement suggested that he would get a full night's rest from now on. 

Tuesday, September 9th, 2014

Description! Write a scene in which you focus on description. Don't forget senses other than sight!

Bonus: Write another scene in the same setting, either with your viewpoint character in a drastically different mood, or from a different character's viewpoint. See how it affects how you describe things.

@Danaos @NightBirdBlue @betaband @31TeV @Briar_Rose @ISentinelPenguinI @TaraGil @the_quiller @jamescoker1226 @LostConnection @Kiel_Farren @Cynical @ItAintPretty @Swiftstryker @TacocaT @Romulus @coins @Malkalack @Virtualide @Morgan_R @Fireplay @nmelssx @mek7

-mistake-

I wake to the sound of dinner bells, their cheerful, metallic notes floating through the air to my bed. It brings a smile to my face as I smell the warm meal coming down the hall long before I see it. Meat is rare these days, but what a glorious platter I find delivered to my bedroom, served on a fetching steel platter. Perfectly marbled muscle and fat, soft cartilage that crunches between my teeth, and a perfect seasoning of salt adds a zest to the meat that has been steeped in its own juices. It's roasted to perfection, lightly charred on the outside, but still red and tender on the inside. If only I could have had a larger portion! It's gone before I even fully savor it's flavor, and I spend the next five minutes picking every scrap I can find out of my teeth so nothing is wasted.

Bonus:

The dragon roasted the knight before he could even draw his sword and ate him in a single gulp.

  The nippy autumn wind moaned through the rafters making the old house creak and groan.  The mildewed aroma of the decrepit structure was so pungent that I could taste it.   Somewhere just out of sight, something indistinct, made the hairs on my arm stand on end.  And then a shadow began to move.  That's when I lost it and I ran!

Bonus:
  When I heard the crunching leaves, and then the squawking of the loose porch boards, I slipped into a dark, dank corner and waited.  Then the door opened and a inky silhouette crept inside.  The coppery taste of adrenaline drying my mouth, and the heartbeats pounding in my ears, I began to swoon.  It fled through the doorway as I crumpled to the floor.

Slowly. Slowly. You tell yourself. You do your best to listen to the voice in your head, but your heart is pounding in your ears and you can both feel and hear your breathing become more rapid. Each step seems glacial, but you know it will be worth it. It has been 10 years since you were locked away. All of your senses went nearly numb due to the silent darkness and the cold, monotonous stones underneath your shivering body. As you inch ever closer to freedom, you seem almost hyper-aware of your surroundings. You picture what's ahead: you hear a babbling brook, smell the faint scent of-what is that...lilacs? You stop for a moment. Just two more steps. You take a deep breath and hold it, hold in the last remnants of what you thought would be your tomb, then release it and step out into the sunlight. You keep your eyes tightly shut, as not to immediately blind yourself from the severe adjustment of pitch black to light. 

The world comes into focus as your eyes open ever so slowly. Your crimson eyes shine against the sun. You bask in the sun-and your freedom- for a moment. But only for a moment. Now, you must begin enacting your revenge, against all of those who have wronged you. You turn to face the first of your many victims.

Starting with him.

Bonus: 

Slowly. Slowly. You think to yourself. Just keep moving slowly toward that door, no sudden moves now...you silently plead. You tread carefully behind the prisoner, watching him like a hawk, wishing all this would be over. After all, you'd been the one who had mocked him, done...unspeakable things...to him. However, the prisoner never seemed to hold it against you. I was merely following orders! you confidently tell yourself with a self-assured nod. However, you can't help but be a bit nervous. This IS the first time anyone has walked out of here. Why is he moving so SLOWLY. Just get on with it!

You wait impatiently behind him, rolling your eyes as the prisoner stops and takes a deep breath before opening the door. After what feels likes ages, the prisoner does indeed get on with it and steps out into the sunlight. You follow him, trying to think of what to say. Good luck! Yes, that's it. Short and simple....

Why is he looking at me like that?

The bloodied hands of the young gladiator struggled to grip his sword. He looked up at me and I turned my thumb up, the large armor clad slave had hardly put up a fight, he deserved to die. With a salute the gladiator drew his sword up. The crowed cheered, encouraging the blood shed. There was no cry of pain as the sword sunk into flesh.

BONUS

My hand struggled to grip the blade. When I first started training, the sword felt so heave, now it seems like an extension of my body. My right hand had gotten cut deeply, so my hand was slippery and the sword nearly fell out of my grip. I looked towards the idiot emperor and he turns his hand up. At this point it doesn't feel like killing. I've done it enough times already.

To some, rank; to others, spoiled; yet still to others, most exquisitely pungent.

To Lyra, though, all she smelled was a hint of ocean breeze.  The same breeze that caused her to wipe her auburn-red hair when she bathed in the warm shafts of light above.  The very same breeze that lulled her ears into a dream that would be realized all too soon.  The very same breeze that tickled her skin as she burned her adolescence away talking with the boy she loved.  A breeze that was all too brief.

As bittersweet (with a bit of umami on the side) as the sensation was to her nose, it was delicate, and with this delicacy, came brevity.  As her vision acclimated itself with the dimness of the room, the sharp scent of alcohol, mold, and other things unspeakable in the menagerie were quick to notify the girl's nose as bluntly as they dared.

Lyra sniffed, snorted even, loudly at the rude intrusion, but showed no other signs of disgust.  After all, she had something to look forward to.

It wasn't the dank, teal floorboards or the ghastly, cerulean will-o-the-wisps cajoling about, but rather one of the room's inhabitants.  And no, it wasn't the lady-killer clinking an absinthe spoon in the middle with a vacant seat, nor was it the lavishly-dressed warriors clad in the iron of their fallen enemies, their very breaths putting ale into her tongue, nor was it the hopeful youths, dressed in oddities, that giddily chattered about their upcoming adventure as they bumped past her.

She was above those banalities; she was too divine to deign upon those subjects of pursuing legends and glory.  Quite literally, she was a goddess in disguise.  With only the fragrance of rock salt as a hint to what she truly was, few would ever guess that she was a siren, let alone the unknown, unseen deity so many others of her kind aspired to be.

Her true target, her true reason for returning, was because of another person she loved.  Transcending the love of physical and emotional values, Lyra understood this person from the conception to death and beyond, and because of this profound comprehension of the person, Lyra was able to come back into the very same room she had done a literally innumerable amount of times, no matter who was in there, no matter the smell, no matter what the room looked like, sounded like, or even felt like.

It was none other than an eccentric girl, with red hair many shades more brilliant, more scarlet than hers, with a spark of vivacity and spry youthfulness gleaming in those chartreuse pools people would dub "eyes".

This girl was busy wiping an already-pristine glass when Lyra came close, and already, all the scents of rot and ruin were absent from her nostrils.  Lyra could not care anymore about the murmurs and shifts that happened around her.

All that mattered was that Lyra had someone to return to, to make even the most disgusting places a haven for her heart.

And that was that.

Bonus :

I thought I'd never have my fill of women, but today...well...if I'm a lady killer, I must've been murdered in cold blood.  I think I just saw the only person that could stop my heart : her.

No, no, I haven't even asked for her name yet, let alone her hand in marriage, but I know her by heart already.  Like water, the cerulean cloth she wore appeared to shift with even the slightest movement.  Her white sash, like foam upon waves, spun around her arms and highlighted the blue.  Not audaciously expensive, but as simple as the concept was, it caught my eye as though I was a fly.

Her hair...I supposed it was dyed or something.  While it wasn't as brilliant as a sunset, I'm sure...maybe in her years as an adolescent child, she might've looked like a walking sunset on the ocean's horizon.  She isn't old, but something...something tells me she isn't lost.

In fact, out of all the places in the world, this tavern of the lost was practically like home to her.  Almost routinely, she almost glided through passing adventurers and warriors as they were furniture she memorized.

Curious...

Note : Yes, this IS the Tavern.  I figured I might make an ambiguous epilogue to Lyra and Liana's relationship as far as those two go on my part.  Of course, this doesn't mean that Liana's adventures would be over with Lyra's inability to actually "live" consciously anymore, so you'll still get to use her in case Tavern ever comes back.

Also, try to read this using David Attenborough's voice for the first passage.  You can go back to your old reading voice for the bonus.

There it was again; a single, solid thump that reverberated through the deafening silence.

She groaned as she strained her ears in an attempt to determine the source of the noise, to no avail.

Thump.

She vaguely realised at the back of her mind that it was the sound of her own heart, thumping against her chest in a slow, steady rhythm.

Good, she thought. That means I'm still alive.

She was only dimly aware of the carnage around her, and the blood that flowed down her own body in never-ending streams. Deprived of her senses, she attempted in vain to raise an arm that refused to move.

Haven.

The word rang in her mind. She didn’t understand what it was, only that it was something…something she had to protect. Something she would die protecting.

A soft, white glow surrounded her body as she drew strength from an unknown source of power she never knew she had. Forcing her lifeless body to her feet, she stared at the blurry figure that stood in front of her, the tattered remains of her sane consciousness slipping away by the second.

Opening her mouth in an ear-deafening roar of fury, she snapped, blinding white flames erupting from her body in a massive explosion.

Bonus:

To the average human, watching the scene unfold from this distance would be little more than a blur.

But Caine could see everything. From the specks of dirt on her face to the blood that flowed from wounds that would have killed even the most resilient of living organisms, every single minute detail was absorbed by dark golden orbs that gazed at the scene in horror.

-to be continued-

Wednesday, September 10th, 2014

Devise a MacGuffin, a plot-significant object that the hero(es) of your story will be attempting to obtain. 

Explain what it is, why they want it, what happens if they don't get it, what happens if they do get it, etc. You can optionally do this in the form of a character explaining things to another character, but this is more of a plotting exercise than a writing exercise, so that's not mandatory.

Bonus: Describe the MacGuffin, as seen by a particular character -- maybe the villain who has it, maybe the hero who's just laid eyes on it for the first time.

@Danaos @NightBirdBlue @betaband @31TeV @Briar_Rose @ISentinelPenguinI @TaraGil @the_quiller @jamescoker1226 @LostConnection @Kiel_Farren @Cynical @ItAintPretty @Swiftstryker @TacocaT @Romulus @coins @Malkalack @Virtualide @Morgan_R @Fireplay @nmelssx @mek7

Didn't I just make a MacGuffin in the passage before?  ^-^

(Nevertheless, I'll this out to make another one.  :D)

Unsure if I have the concept mapped out enough, but here I go:

The MacGuffin in the following scene is an abstract concept, rather than a concrete object.  Bringing modern Western medicine practices back to a post-apocalyptic country through education. In a word: knowledge. The main character, a middle aged Registered Nurse, was one of the few survivors in her area who understands medicinal practices. After years of merely fixing patients' ailing wounds and minds, she desires to try something different. Instead of seeing her situation as a dire one, she sees an opportunity. If she can teach all of her patients about medicine, both crude surgical techniques and about disease prevention, she could really make a difference! There are those, of course who wish to profit off of the epic disaster. Sick people plus limited medicine equals the potential for a large profit. If this knowledge passed along, or falls into the wrong, profit-seeking, hands, it could mean the death of the remaining members of the community and would create major setbacks in the field of medicine.

Bonus:

The young woman stole a glance out of her operating room door, seeing a seemingly unending line of patients. To most medical practitioners, this would emit feelings of dread, but this nurse was different. She was invigorated. More patients means more practice. She thought, excitedly and made a mental note to gather more supplies after she finishes with her current patient. She turned her attention back to her current patient, who came in complaining of a nondescript pain. After asking the appropriate questions, she gives the patient a treatment plan. Then, instead of sending the patient home, she asks the patient to head back out to the waiting room, find someone with similar symptoms and try to diagnose them. “Remember, everyone is an educator” the nurse reminded her patient as she had done with so many others before.

The next patient was quite familiar to the nurse-they were a type 2 diabetic. This time however, along with their glucose readings, they brought something much more rewarding. “This is for you.” The patient said with a smile. The nurse took the package and quickly opened it. It was a journal…and upon skimming it…it was a list of conditions, treatment plans, medications…all from the past year. “The other patients and I really took to hear what you said about everyone being an educator.” The patient said, beaming.

Tears of joy beamed down the nurse’s cheeks. What began as a simple idea and phrase had come to fruition. She walked into the waiting room, clutching the journal with pride. The remaining patients, in on the gift, gathered around, and, for the rest of the day, listened to her read every page to them. 

In this world, there is an object called the Focus. It has no inherent powers of its own beyond what its name implies - it helps whoever holds it focus. However, in this setting, every single human on the planet has the ability to work miracles. It's just that, without the Focus, their ability is spread out over the entire planet and thus, the pull of their wishes is barely noticeable. If someone is holding the Focus, however, they'll be able to draw in their powers and affect only their immediate surroundings, effectively making them powerful beyond belief. Unfortunately, the Focus is always changing shape and changing hands because its owners usually want to keep it hidden and, thus, usually choose unremarkable objects to disguise the Focus as. It's almost always small enough to hold in your hand, however, but other than that, the only way to find the Focus is to hold it in your hand and will something miraculous to happen. It could be anything - from a toothpaste cap to a seashell. It could be anywhere - inside a bank vault or at the bottom of the ocean. It might not even exist at all anymore, if one of its owners chose to destroy it.

However, the knowledge of its existence is known to those that have once possessed it, and those that still live are hell-bent on getting it back. Some have evil intentions, some have good intentions, and some simply don't want to see it fall into the wrong hands.

Bonus:

I stared at the dirty penny in my palm. E pluribus unum. ONE CENT. I flipped it over and Abe Lincoln's familiar face stared up at me. The year was almost completely concealed by rust, but I could still make out '1' '9' '8' and '4'.

I closed my hand over my lucky penny and wished for the light to turn green so I could cross the street. Immediately, the light changed and several cars honked at the unexpectedly short traffic signal. My breath racing, I crossed the street and wished for something bigger. Almost immediately, I stumbled over something wedged between the cracks of the sidewalk. As I knelt to inspect it, I found it was soggy paper - soggy bills. At least ten $20 dollar bills, rolled up and stuffed into the sidewalk randomly. It couldn't be real. This just had to be a strange, strange coincidence. I stared at my reflection in the store window and decided to wish for something truly impossible.

A sharp pain suddenly prickled my eyes and the world went blurry. I blinked away the tears and removed my thick, clunky glasses.

To my shock, the world was crystal clear. I could even see the aphids crawling across a leaf on a tree fifty paces away. I put my glasses back on, and the world went out of focus. Glasses back on, and the world was clear again. My hereditary poor vision was completely fixed.

I stared back down at the penny in my palm with my now perfect vision, and still didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Mouth dry, I shakily put it back into my pocket.

Vitality.

Most people attribute vitality according to one's liveliness and vibrancy in her/his life.  As a word, it was simply a word not quite a noun, but not quite an adjective either.

But to the few, the kings and queens and patriarchs and monarchs of every kind, a certain Vitality, a truly physical thing, granted them overwhelming power and immortality.

Or, at least, that's what was rumored.  It was never seen, though the records on its effects were extensive and widespread (ancient texts all had this in common : a certain person came in his/her full glory once obtaining Vitality and rose to godhood), the exact means of getting it was entirely unknown.  The heroic poor never got it, the wealthiest of mankind could not buy it, so it certainly did not discriminate against or for anybody.

For those who didn't get Vitality, they were dubbed the enemies of humanity in the  annals of history.  For such a condemnation, many people were afraid for their families; others were afraid for what might become of themselves; yet still others were afraid of what might come of humanity if someone were to use Vitality for him/herself.

In truth, though, this Vitality never existed.  Originally, years ago in /b/ threads, the talk of this Vitality was nothing more than just a musing about archetypes.  Often, the people searching for one thing pass by objects many times over the value of the goal.  Likewise, the desperation for those few who actually believed its existence would throw the entire world at risk.

In the early days of the Earth, the spirit of the planet and the personification of Mother Nature, known only as the Mother, looked at her sky. She gave the Celestials, who lived there, her heart. However, the Celestials misused this gift and made war upon each other, so she took back the gift. Then, she gave it to the Titans who lived on the land, but they also used to for war. She took back the gift, again. Finally, she gave it the ocean, but the Seas, too, succumbed to the temptation of power, and brought war to each other. Once again, she took back the gift. With her heart breaking, she created a less powerful form of life - mortals. She gave away her heart one last time to the mortals. She warned them about the follies of Celestials, Titans, and Seas and pleaded for them not to do the same. The warnings would go unheeded, and not long after, war was soon upon the Earth once more.

Unable to watch her children hurt each other, her heart finally shattered into four pieces, each piece representing a different heartbreak, and spread across to the four corners of the world. One flew north, another flew south, a third to the west, and the last to the east. And so, the Mother’s love reached all of creation.

That was the legend of the Heart of Mother, but it was no legend, not exactly. The memory of mortals wane, and only the oldest of Celestial, Titans, and Seas can remember the gift. That Heart of Mother is said to be a powerful artifact that can channel the lifeforce of the entire planet. It is said that when the four pieces of the Heart of Mother unite, the Mother herself will return once again and judge her children once more.

Despite this, all four of the Mother’s creations alike constantly have members in search of the pieces. While nowadays, people consider it a worthless endeavor, a group of scientists believe they have pinpointed the locations of the four pieces and hired a group to retrieve it. However, after finding the first piece, they revealed their intention to use the pieces to bring about the apocalypse. So, they hired our heroes to retrieve the other three pieces before our death-loving villains do.

Thursday, September 11, 2014

Character interviews: Relationships. Pick (or create) two characters who have some sort of relationship, whether it's romantic, friendship, enmity, or whatever else. Interview each of them, separately, about their relationship. Possible questions (but feel free to invent your own instead):

How did you meet?

What do you like about them?

What do they do that drives you crazy?

How have they changed in the time you've known them?

How do you think your relationship will evolve in the future?

Bonus: Write a scene with the two of them together.

@Danaos @NightBirdBlue @betaband @31TeV @Briar_Rose @ISentinelPenguinI @TaraGil @the_quiller @jamescoker1226 @LostConnection @Kiel_Farren @Cynical @ItAintPretty @Swiftstryker @TacocaT @Romulus @coins @Malkalack @Virtualide @Morgan_R @Fireplay @nmelssx @mek7

Interviewing Tom Jackson and Quinn Whiteshaw

Interviewing Tom

How did you meet Quinn?
I dunno. Never really thought about it. Quinn's always been there, as far as I can remember. Must have been when we were tots and I just forgot.

What do you like about Quinn?
We're both very driven and we both have similarly ambitious goals in life: mine is world conquest and his is to become CEO of the greatest company the world has ever seen. Well, mine is a little more ambitious but you know what I mean. Yes, sometimes our aims and plans are at odds with each other's, but we get along well and that's the main thing.

What does Quinn do that drives you crazy?
Sometimes he'll go on and on about the good of humankind and treating your employees well and blah de blah de blah. It just gets boring if you hang around him for a long time. I mean, if you think I talk too much sometimes then you should see him. He's like a gatling gun.

How has Quinn changed in the time you've known him?
I've been very close to him since I was very little, so it's hard to say. Back in the day I guess he didn't have his eyes set on his current business goals. He's matured and become more serious ever since the incident with his parents. Buuuut please pretend you didn't hear that because I don't think I should have told you.

How do you think your relationship will evolve in the future?
I suspect we might grow a little more distant when we finish school and I'm busy with overlording and him with CEOing, but he'll always be a close friend, and a good business partner. And our chats by the fireplace are the best!

Interviewing Quinn

How did you meet Tom?
When we were both four years old. I remember it clearly. I was getting picked on by some other boys and that's when Tom appeared. He's always been a big lad. That douchebag, he saved me from those kids and all but then he tried to get me to be one of his goons. I had not a fucking clue what he was on about at the time so I refused, and that's when he started beating me up. What a joke, to save someone from bullies only to beat him up as well! For the longest while I had no choice but to be his sole goon, but eventually he started to respect me as more than that. We became friends.

What do you like about Tom?
Despite that tyrannical and hard exterior, he's actually a big softie inside. What I like about Tom is how protective he is of his friends and even his goons. He's not afraid to get into a fight to protect his people, and he won't back down just because the enemies are bigger or there are more of them. He's willing to get his hands dirty, and that's what'll make him a good overlord. That's if he even manages global domination. It's a pretty unrealistic dream. But if anyone can do it, it's him.

What does Tom do that drives you crazy?
Tom's just a dick sometimes. He's stubborn as a mule and just won't back down. I've got into arguments with him over business and our plans but I'll often have to concede because there's no way I could change his mind, or anyone else, for that matter. Perhaps except that new girlfriend of his. What was her name? Gabby or something. I've never seen him go so crazy over a girl like that. Won't stop talking about her. I didn't know he was into ugly short overweight ladies, but whatever floats his boat, I guess.

How has Tom changed in the time you've known him?
He's always been the same, and probably always will be. Obsessed as ever with taking over the Earth. It's understandable - I have my own aims which I strive hard for - but man, everything that guy does is connected to his goal in some way. Only associates with people that are potential business partners, goons or otherwise useful to achieving his aims. He uses the money from his paper rounds to hire goons. Spends all his spare time either hatching world domination schemes or watching Pinky and the Brain for 'inspiration'. I've never seen someone so dedicated to one cause, and that's ever since I met him as a young child. I guess the only thing that has changed a little is how soppy and romantic he gets over his girlfriend since he started dating her. Blegh.

How do you think your relationship will evolve in the future?
It's hard to say. It really depends on how long he sees me as being a means to his ends. I'm probably not wrong in assuming that he'd get rid of me as soon as I outlive my usefulness, and that's bound to happen if he does become overlord of Earth. Lately, though, I've been rethinking things in my life and my ideas of what I want in life are changing. I can't help but feel that my views are starting to contradict his and I don't know how long we'll be close friends or even business partners. We'll just have to wait and see.

Bonus

WIP

How did you meet her?

Quite the story, that one...it was on a blind date. Except, she wasn't the date. She was sitting at the table next to ours. The actual date didn't go well at all, and I think, really amused her. After I knew the current date wasn't going anywhere, I just started making up answers. ‘Oh, I still live with my parents.' She burst out laughing at that one. Finally, I built up the courage to sit across from her instead of beside her.

What do you like about Emma?

What DON’T I like about her! She’s my dream girl! Her piercing auburn eyes, her sensual figure, her wit, her charm…I could go on and on!

What does she do that drives you crazy?

I think we’re still in that phase where we can’t see each other’s flaws. The honeymoon phase! N-not that I want to marry her…yet…maybe…

Where do you see yourself with her in 5 years?

Call me old fashioned, but I’d definitely want a couple of kids by then, along with a house with a white picket fence.

How did you meet him?

Oh, how does anyone meet anyone? Chance, I suppose.

What do you like about Gideon?

He…erm…dresses well.

What does he do that drives you crazy?

What kind of question is that? Next!

Where do you see yourself with him in five years?

/chuckles/ I don’t see myself with HIM in 5 years.

Bonus:

G: He picks up the phone, giddy. “Hey, Emma!”

E: “Hey you, want to meet up tonight?”

G: “Absolutely! Your place or mine?”

“I was thinking somewhere…private. How about the pier?”

“Sounds great! See you at 9?”

“See you then, love.” Emma hangs up and pulls out her pistol, ensuring every part of it is fully functional. “Finally time to take you out…” she says with a grin.

Aerien and Sharea (from Becoming Legend):

Interview with Aerien

Q: How did you meet?
Aerien: I was assigned to her guard during the Battle of Tal Goltha. She only knew me by my battle designation though, since everyone in the elite guard wears identical armor so that we can be quietly replaced without causing her grief. It turned out to be pointless, in the end - she learned to recognize us by fighting style anyway.

Q: What do you like about them?
Aerien: The sincerity of her actions and the strength of her convictions.

Q: What do they do that drives you crazy?
Aerien: She keeps forgetting that she isn't expendable.

Q: How have they changed in the time you've known them?
Aerien: As she makes more enemies, she becomes sharper and more ruthless as well.

Q: How do you think your relationship will evolve in the future?
Aerien: If she wins the majority vote at the next Mages' Council, then nothing changes. If she doesn't, then I'll marry her.

Interview with Sharea

Q: How did you meet?
Sharea: He was the only one of my guards who survived Tal Goltha. If he hadn't been so over-qualified for his assignment, I would have died. If the battle hadn't gone so badly, though, he would never have revealed himself to me. I doubt he's ever shown anyone the full extent of what he can do. As soon as we got back to the Ninth, I had him transferred into my retinue almost immediately.

Q: What do you like about them?
Sharea: Imagine, for a moment, that you had a sword that could cut through anything, a shield that could block everything, a lock that could protect any secret, and a key that could open any door. That's what Aerien is to me. He knows I'm using him, and he doesn't care. I don't have to compensate him, placate him, or seduce him to keep his loyalty; he honestly believes in the same things I believe in, and for that, I can trust him completely.

Q: What do they do that drives you crazy?
Sharea: He has absolutely no sense of self-preservation. If I tell him a message is urgent, he'll deliver it even if he's bleeding to death before getting medical attention. He's nearly died too many times for stupid, stupid reasons. I used to think he had a death wish, but I know better now. The thought that he might get himself killed simply doesn't cross his mind. If I ever get my hands on the Aegis overseers that trained him, I will do very unpleasant things to them.

Q: How have they changed in the time you've known them?
Sharea: He's learned to value himself as more than just a military asset. He still smiles too rarely and nearly gets himself killed too often for my liking, but it's improving, a little bit at a time.

Q: How do you think your relationship will evolve in the future?
Sharea: I'm going to marry him. There's no one else I can trust with that much power over my autonomy. Marrying a nobleman means that I'll be forced to endorse their policies, and I don't fully agree with any of them. Even if I did, I can't trust them at their word. Aerien's military record is distinguished enough that no one can openly protest against it, and honestly, it'll be a relief to get the Council to stop pestering me about it.

Bonus:

"Last chance for second thoughts," Sharea whispers, grasping the the fabric of her voluminous dress in both fists and fixing her gaze forward with a well-practiced smile.

"I have none," Aerien replies quietly.

Together, they stepped out from behind the curtains to the sound of deafening cheers. White flower petals rained down onto the long red carpet as excited onlookers threw them into into the air to celebrate their newly crowned Praetor and her Lord Consort. Just as scripted, they linked arms to walk down the aisle together, and the volume of the crowd swelled as they witnessed what was supposedly the perfect end to a fairytale romance - the Lady and her Champion's happily ever after. Aerien even had a faint smile on his face - something no one had ever seen before - and Sharea marveled at his ability to pull off the expression with such convincing sincerity.

As they passed by the nobles, however, they were surrounded by forced smiles and even a few outright glares. Sharea smiled at them beatifically. They had lost their chance to seize power, and to a commoner dog without a drop of blue blood in his veins at that. She was free of their control forever - or she would be, by the end of the day.

Aerien summoned up a barrier instantly as a black bolt of magic suddenly struck them. The cheers turned into stunned silence, then screams as countless black-cloaked assassins darted out of the crowd and cast a concealing darkness over the entire procession.

No one could see anything, but their could hear the sound of fighting and clashing spells for a couple terrifying minutes before the veil of darkness dissipated. In the middle of a circle of slain assassins, Aerien stood with his sword summoned to his hand. Sharea ran into his arms dramatically, and he hugged her close and leaned in to whisper something into her ear.

Contrary to popular belief, however, they were far from sweet nothings. He asked in a voice too low to be overheard, "Did you plant the assassins?"

Sharea buried her face into her chest to hide her feral grin. "I hope you left at least one alive. I need them to help implicate some of the Lords."

Aerien sighed and stroked her hair gently as he said, "I suspected as much. A couple are only unconscious. It's out of character for me to leave such a weak assassin alive though. We'll need an excuse."

"Just say you were too focused on protecting me, and I'm sure the public will eat it up," Sharea said.

The guards ran up to them, too late to be useful like usual, but Aerien ordered them to take the assailants into custody. Excellent - Aerien had managed to take them all out without spilling blood on the carpet or his white uniform. His hair was slightly mussed now, but that only made him look more like the idealized knight he was supposed to be. Once the downed assailants were cleared away, Sharea took it as her cue to throw her arms over his shoulders and pull him into a deep kiss. Aerien's arms naturally closed around her waist, and as they broke the kiss, he swept her up into her arms to the nearly ear-shattering crowd roaring their approval of the little skit.

He carried her the remainder of the way to the dais where the priest was waiting. The elderly holy man opened up a thick tome and began to read the Emperor's words. Sharea was suddenly glad she was marrying a soldier, not a nobleman, because she had made a slight oversight in her script. He'd have to hold her in a bridal carry throughout the priest's entire spiel. Thankfully, Aerien's his arms were steady; she was in no danger of being dropped.

After half an eternity, the priest finally said, "Speak your vows and drink." A servant came forward bearing a gold goblet filled with wine that Sharea took.

Typically, the man would speak the first vow, but there was one more surprise they had planned. It would be an upset to tradition, but as Praetor, Sharea could justify it - marriage did not mean she would cease to lead.

She looked Aerien in the eye and spoke the first vow.

"I choose you, loving what I know of you and trusting who you will become. I will respect and honor you always and in all ways. I take you to be my equal, to have and to hold, in tears and in laughter, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish from this day forward, in this world and the next. In the Emperor's name, this I vow."

She sipped from the wine. This was the second reason she had to speak first - just as expected, the wine was poisoned. She held it in her mouth without swallowing - she had until Aerien finished his vow to determine what it was and design an antidote.

Aerien saw the look in her eye and nodded just slightly, speaking in a slow, measured tone.

"There is no greater joy I could seek, for there is no one I trust nor value more. I will respect and honor you always and in all ways. I will follow you forever, to have and to hold, in tears and in laughter, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, from this day forward, in this world and the next. In the Emperor's name, this I vow."

She held the wine up to his lips, and he drank. In the same moment, she cast the spell that reversed the effects of the poisoned wine in her mouth and leaned forward to kiss him, delivering the antidote before the poison could take effect. No one would be any wiser.

They broke their second kiss slowly, and this time, she couldn't stop the smile from breaking over her face as her heart filled with euphoria. This was it. They had won. Now she was untouchable, and together, they would rule the Ninth Court for all the many, many days of their lives.

Staring up at Aerien's face, Sharea had one more surprise, but this one hadn't been planned. She leaned forward and kissed him a third time, and she could feel him startle because this kiss hadn't been in the script they discussed. When she finally gave him a chance to breathe, she saw him look bewildered for the first time as he asked, "Sharea, what -?"

Sharea only smiled and said, "You've got the rest of our lives to figure that out."

Living with Roomies

by Maria DeLucia

For most young people, learning to live with roommates has become an everyday challenge. In this issue of Daily Living, we’ve interviewed different roommates about the challenges of living with others.

Bruce Dickens and Chris Fu

This odd couple* have been living together for 2 years. Despite being very different, their relationship has been nothing less than cordial. We caught up with them and interviewed them separately to see if we could find the secret to living in peace with a roommate.

How did you meet?

BD: My previous roommate and I were not on good terms. We both knew we weren’t going to last long under the same roof together. I was determined to replace him soon and get someone I could get along with. I put up an ad on Craigslist as soon as I realized it wouldn’t work out. Chris was one of the guys who answered. We met up, asked each other a few questions, and realized we were on the same page as far as roommates went.

CF: I was still living with family, my cousins to be exact. I was looking for a place closer to work, because the commute was rough. I’ve already looked at a few places, but they weren’t what I was looking for. Then, I went on Cragislist, met up with Bruce, checked out the place. I liked it, so I moved in as soon as I could.

What type of questions did you ask each other?

BD: They type of questions you ask all roommates and the type all potential roommates should answer honestly. How was your income - he was in IT. How did you want to split the rent, utilities and other bills? Do you smoke? Have pets? That type of stuff.

CF: Bruce covered all the essential questions, so I asked him things like what people in the area did for fun around there. (laughs) The only essential question I really asked was how we were splitting chores and how laundry would be handled.

Any pet peeves or things that annoy you about them?

BD: He’s the best roommate I’ve had. I don’t want to say a bad word about Chris when I have a long list of roommate horror stories. I guess the only thing I get annoyed with is when he gets over enthusiastic over something. For instance, he wants to keep fish, but he couldn’t keep one alive to save his life. I lost track of how many fish got flushed down the drain.

CF: Hey, that isn’t very nice! Okay, I don’t have many problems with Bruce, but he has sleeping problems. I keep telling him to cut down on his tea and coffee, but he won’t listen. The guy’s a barista, but won’t believe me when I tell him how much caffeine tea has.

Let’s move on to something positive. What is your roommates’ best trait?

BD: Chris is respectful. I only got to meet his family a few times, but I could tell they raised him right. He’s never touched my things without asking. He minds his own business when it doesn’t concern him but doesn’t completely shut himself out. It’s a steady balance, and he’s gone it done.

CF: Maybe it’s because Bruce has had the worst roommate stories I’ve ever heard, but he’s surprisingly chill when I make suggestions. I guess when you’ve lived with so many terrible gusy, you get grateful when you end up living with someone normal.

What about the good things? Has your relationship changed since you’ve started living together?

BD: I don’t think most people stay the same person they are in two years. It goes the same way with relationships. Before, asking each other for favors used to be awkward. Now, we can play board games with each other every Wednesday with our friends.  I think we’re at the point where we’re really used to each other

CF: For one thing, we have Taco Tuesdays, now. But seriously, not much has changed. We’ve always gotten along and always will, I bet.

Do you see each other continuing to live together in the future?

BD: I think we both know this living arrangement isn’t going to last forever. It never does, but when we do part, it’ll be on good terms, just like when we moved in.

CF: Sure, do! I don’t plan living there for the rest of my life. I want to start a family, eventually. I just haven’t found the right girl yet.

Editor’s Note: Maria, please revise the Odd Couple reference. It is not only inappropriately applied to the two gentleman:, but this magazine is aimed at a younger audience who most likely never watched the show. As usual, we are editing most of the interview in the magazine for page space. Please cut it down to 3 pages and write the URL to our site at the end for the full interview.

Chris face lit up when he heard the doorbell.

“Food’s here!” He exclaimed, even though nobody else was in the apartment except him. He quickly made his way to front door and opened it up immediately.

“Quick, grab these.” His roommate, Bruce said. He was carrying only three paper bags at a time, but didn’t have nearly as good a grip on them as he could have.

Chris immediately grabbed a hold of the two largest ones and brought them to the kitchen table. It wasn’t long after that he was shuffling through the grocery bags.

“Did you get everything?” He asked Bruce. He already pulled out some bread, cheese, and milk/

“Everything except my frozen burritos. All out. I even got the fish food. I couldn’t believe they sell that there.” Bruce replied. He shifted through the bags and pulled out said fish food. “Speaking of, you should probably feed the little guy. He hasn’t eaten all day.”

“Later. Oh, you got yourself more tea? Didn’t I tell you this is probably what’s keeping you up at night?”

“It’s not.”

“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Bruce shrugged and ignored the warning as he was prone to. He took a look at the once-again forgotten goldfish swimming around at a choice spot in the kitchen and looking hungry. He pitied that stupid thing. Maybe for this fish, he’ll feed him when his owner wasn’t looking. The fish lives longer. Chris stays happy. Bruce doesn’t have to think about another fish going into his toilet. Everyone’s happy. But for now, he’ll leave it be, cook the frozen tacos he bought, and ask his roommate if the internet was still down.

(I swear, this scene meant to have more of a plot, but then I realized there was not much conflict to be found with amicable roommates.)

Friday, September 12, 2014

Write an epilogue, describing where various characters ended up after the story's end. This can be an epilogue to a story you're working on, a story you wrote a first sentence for on Monday, or something you make up on the spot.

Bonus: Write a scene about one or more of those characters, living their lives after the story has ended.

@Danaos @NightBirdBlue @betaband @31TeV @Briar_Rose @ISentinelPenguinI @TaraGil @the_quiller @jamescoker1226 @LostConnection @Kiel_Farren @Cynical @ItAintPretty @Swiftstryker @TacocaT @Romulus @coins @Malkalack @Virtualide @Morgan_R @Fireplay @nmelssx @mek7

This is an epilogue for the nurse in a post-apocalyptic world (Wednesday’s post, I believe).

It has been several years since I received that journal which all of my patients worked so hard on. Our hospital isn’t much to look at, since it’s been built out of scraps of trees and metal we found nearby, but it certainly serves its purpose.

As for myself-it’s funny, before this world became what it is, I had no goals of becoming anything close to a medical leader, but the role seems to suit me. That is, when I am in charge of things. Everyone is the administrator of the hospital for a week or so, to prevent any greedy gains and for fresh ideas to occur more often. Some of the others still come to me for advice, but they almost always already know the answer. I’m proud of that fact. We haven’t explored much beyond our stretch of community. That’s not what my goal was, so maybe someone else will do so, though I feel secure in our current situation. Overall, things can’t get much better for me. I’m exactly where I want to be.

Those who wanted to merely profit off of the ill have moved on, hoping to find other victims, I suppose. I don’t pay them much mind now. Once word got around about my methods’ success, they started packing up, despite my idea to include them in my program. They supposedly had their own “program”, though, knowing them its vision only went so far as the nearest coin. They wanted no part in my plan, so I wanted no part of theirs. I haven’t heard from them since they left a few years ago.

The diabetic patient, Julie-the one who spearheaded the journal of medical conditions-is fortunately still around, controlling her condition well. She is helping me run the hospital and may even know more about medicine than me at this point, as much as she’s devoted herself to it. She’s part of the research team, using what little resources she and her team has to think up new vaccines and the like. She’s also been my confidant over the years. Every tough decision, she’s been right beside me, weighing the pros and cons. I trust her more than I myself, at times, and am hoping to have her take my place soon.

Bonus:

It’s the end of a long and rewarding day. The nurse stretches, and lays down on one of the hospital cots. This is her home, and she certainly wouldn’t trade it for anything more lavish. She closes her eyes, knowing that her now expert staff has patients with the most severe wounds under control. Her eyes feel heavy and she just about falls asleep…

The diabetic patient steps in, quietly shutting the door behind her. “Are you asleep, nurse?” She whispers.

“Not anymore” the nurse says with a yawn. “Anything new?” the nurse asks.

“Room 12 has been discharged and room 4 is getting worse, though we’re hoping the new batch of meds will help their condition.” Julie states.

“Good work. I was more asking about you, though.” the nurse responds.

“Just losing sleep over room 5”. Julie sighs.

The nurse glances over and offers: “Want to go take a look?”

Julie gives a determined nod as she sits up.

Both women know it will be another sleepless night. Neither would have it any other way.

Epilogue (Monday)

With the heroes' final triumph over the Great Evil, Master of a Thousand Nights, the kingdom of Fanadis was finally able to piece itself back together.

It managed to do so remarkably quickly. So quickly, in fact, that it was as if there hadn't been an Evil Overlord at all. The historians spent many nights puzzling over the countless contradictory accounts between what had been reported during the occupation and what had been discovered after the liberation.

The elves, originally thought to have been wiped out in the burning of the Ethereal Forest, turned out to have been on vacation on the southern beaches. Apparently, an anonymous source had informed them of the fire beforehand, and they had evacuated so that the fire could take care of an infestation of pine fungus that had been devastating the area.

The women who had been pillaged from their villages were discovered at a strange new form of prison that they insistently called domestic abuse shelters. Despite being miraculously spared from the Evil Overlord's clutches, however, his sorcery still remained, as many refused to return to their homes even when the liberation forces offered to take them back to their families.

The buildings where ritualistic torture sessions of young children were held remained a mystery. When questioned, the children spouted nonsense about mathematics and grammar, and no one could bear to question the poor traumatized young souls any further. In the end, the liberation forces decided to pile all the incomprehensible spell books, torture benches, and strange wooden quills outside the buildings and burn them all so that the horrific torture could never be repeated for whatever nefarious purpose it was working toward.

The only lasting tragedy, it seemed, was the Evil Overlord's final act of spite. The liberation forces searched the vile Castle Doom from the highest tower to the deepest dungeon, but none of the gold the vile ruler had unjustly stolen from the nobility was anywhere to found. No one knew where the hoard of gold had been hidden, and no amount of diving could point to its location. The only clue to its whereabouts was a series of ledgers that recorded all the precious treasures that had fallen into the overlord's clutches. No one could decipher what he had done with them, however, because no one could decode what phrases like 'reapportioned to improving public infrastructure' or 'subsidized social support for disadvantaged citizens' meant.

Ultimately, the loss of gold was preferable to the loss of lives (though some now destitute nobles might have quietly disagreed), and a holiday was declared across the Fanadis Kingdom as the rightful royalty once more ascended the throne. Princess Celes had been rescued, and all of Fanadis was looking forward to the royal wedding.

Bonus: (Because I badly need more practice writing romance involving wedding scenes)

"And do you, Princess Celes Fanadia, take Sir Aldon to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I- "

The words catch in my throat and refuse to come out. Aldon looked at me quizzically. He really does look every inch the hero - fair golden hair, bright blue eyes, square handsome jaw, and not a shred of malice anywhere in him. He deserves a happily ever after, even if he doesn't understand what that really means.

"I- " I try again, but still no luck. I can't do this. Turning my eyes away, I can't help but look helplessly at the chancellor and his fellow nobility sitting in the front most pews, their eyes already narrowing at my hesitance. Poor Aldon - he has no idea what he's walking into. They'll set him up as a puppet king, and he won't even know it.

"I can't," I finish in a small voice. Despite how quietly I say it though, the utter silence of the church room makes my words echo so clearly that everyone must have heard. The chancellor is already rising to his feet, his face purpling with rage, when the painted glass window above the dais suddenly shatters.

A figure clad in a swirling black cloak descends in a torrent of shadows, and suddenly, I find myself swept away from Aldon as a familiar, familiar voice intones, "Behold, my last act of vengeance!"

Screams break out over the audience and Aldon shouts as he draws his sword, but I don't see what happens next as my captor swirls his black cloak around us, and the familiar feeling of a shadow plane shift takes us far away from the royal church.

We land gently on the grass miles away, and my kidnapper finally removes his helmet.

"Surprised?" Corvin asks, grinning.

I smack him.

"You idiot!" I half-laugh, half-cry. "What was the point of that whole death scene if you were just going to blow your cover afterwards? Now the whole kingdom's going to be out looking for you!"

Corvin rubs the back of his neck awkwardly as he says, "Well, I got two weeks of peace and quiet. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I couldn't just leave you back there."

"We already talked about why I had to stay," I sigh.

He has the gall to grin at me as he says, "I don't recall agreeing to what you said."

"Cor!" I wind up for a rant, but somehow, I just can't find it in myself to work up enough anger to really let him have it. I'm too busy feeling relieved and just plain happy to see him again.

As if he's read my mind, he holds out his hand towards me and says, "You're not princess material anyway. What do you say? Up for an occupation change? There's lands to the south that need conquering, and I could use a Dark Mistress to help me along the way."

"Are you," I pause, sizing him up, "are you proposing?"

"Huh," he blinks, as if realizing it for the first time himself as well. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"I guess? That has to be the most half-assed proposal I've ever heard."

"Is that a yes?" he asks, still making that awkward, lopsided grin of his.

It's all too much, and I find the laughter breaking past my lips as I throw my arms around him and hug him tight, prickly overlord armor and all, and he's surprised enough to lose his balance and send us both toppling into the grass.

"Yes," I laugh, smiling down at him. "Let's go conquer the world."