Star Swimming

Kitty twisted her waist and slipped through the narrow bars of the vent, one arm hooked through, holding tight. The hull of the massive ship was dented and scorch-marked, the crimson paint chipped and scratched. There was a cannon bay to her left and to her right the hull curved upwards to the foredeck. She had kept her grey tabard on; if anyone saw her she might be able to keep her cover for a few moments. If her timing was right, Drake would be sailing the small escape vessel into position right now. Out there in the softly glowing dark of space. 

Kitty got her bearings, found the three bright stars that marked her route. Vixx would be discovering his missing belongings any moment. She listened back through the vent for sounds of alarm. 

The ether tickled her throat and lungs as she tried to keep her breathing steady, like Maus had taught her when they were little... She was doing this for Citadel, for the Lady Serisia, and for Chem and the kindness he had shown her; but the deepest reason she was risking her life, the real reason she did everything, was for her sister.  

Kitty heard shouting echo down the vent. She checked the three stars once more, hoping that the elf was still as good a pilot as he once was. 

And then she pushed off the hull of the ship and into the sky.

The Stain

Kitty stood in the hallway looking up at the ceiling as Vixx came walking past. Vixx stopped and looked to the ceiling where Kitty was looking. 

"What do you see?" Vixx asked. 

"Ummm," Kitty replied. "Don't you see it?" 

Vixx stared harder at the ceiling trying to locate what she was looking at. A crack or a hole or even a stain. Nothing. 

"What is it?" Vixx inquired, hinting that he had seen it. 

"You're the expert," Kitty said. "You tell me." 

Vixx straightened up and looked at Kitty. "Maybe we should get maintenance down here and look into it." 

Kitty nodded and smiled. "Glad to be of service." 

Vixx smiled and winked at the girl. "Nice work kid!" He turned and continued down the corridor. 

As Vixx disappeared around the corner, Kitty brought her hands out from behind her. In one of them she had snatched Vixx's key and in the other she had taken his money pouch. She smiled a wicked smile because she hadn't lost her touch.

Citadel Book Two

Citadel

The Nexus Wave

Taking the Stand

Serisia listened as the voices in the Council Chamber began to rise, to overlap, then to shout and clash. The fear over the Batteries, the concerns over Lt. Stryker, ongoing complaints from the greedy Merchant houses, word of increased crime within the fortress, and now the reports of Chtakan forces mustering on at least seven worlds. They hadn't even addressed the issue of the Prophecy yet. And all the while the cries of her daughter echoed in her mind; the poor child was sick this morning. 

She rose from her seat. Her white-feathered wings snapped open. The debate ceased. 

"Our first response to these growing troubles," she said, her voice both stern and soothing, "will be to reform The Guard."

Encounter at Turncoat

Chem clenched his teeth. He maintained his breathing. He was in a lot of pain but years of battle had taught him not to cry out. Even though the pain felt white hot, he did not dare let any sound escape through his lips. There would be time to curse and swear later, but now wasn't the time nor the place to be doing so. Sweat poured down from his forehead and he wiped his brow with his left arm. His right arm was useless at the moment until he found a cleric. 

His ears picked up the sound of a crunching leaf. So they weren't as stealthy as everyone thought they were. 

He blended in the shrubs and lay there trying to become one with the woods. Like an elf hiding in plain sight as the Chtaka predatory party passed. He knew his chances were pretty slim, but he figured he would try and blend with the surroundings before going out in a blaze of glory. It might work.

Citadel Portraits II

Rand & Drake

Vlad

Bekki & Dakk

Barroom Encounter

Rand dropped down from the stage. The crowd had gone silent and  all eyes turned to him as he made his way through the throng of patrons in the bar, over to the corner where the barbarian sat. 

"You care to repeat that?" Rand asked of the burly fellow. 

You could hear a coin drop on the counter, it was that silent. 

The barbarian turned to face the thin fellow walking towards him. He just shrugged his shoulder and turned back to his tankard. 

"Get back to your job, little man," the barbarian said. "Someone is going to get hurt." 

"You're damn right someone is going to get hurt," the bard said. "You take back what you said and I just might forget about it."

Tales of Yore

Chem stood with his hands clasped behind his back staring out the bay window, watching the ships come in and out of the harbours. He was dressed in formal grays, his hands in white gloves. He would give anything to be on one of those ship heading out to who-knows-where and exploring the other dimensional settings that the ribbons had to offer. But at the moment some other matters were more pressing. 

The door chimed as it opened; he didn't turn around to see who had entered the quarters. 

"Commander Finder," a young ensign said. "You ready, Milord?" 

Chem looked at his reflection in the window. He saw a reflection of a man who had seen so many friends come and go. 

"Commander?" the ensign said after a several long seconds. 

Chem snapped around and picked up his cap on the edge of a chair. "Sorry. I was just remembering a time when matters like these were rare." 

"I gather he was a close personal friend," the ensign inquired.  

"He was like family," Chem replied and followed the young ensign out into the hallway.

Citadel Portraits

Serisia

Chem Finder

Kitty

For What of a Better Term

Dakk chomped on the cigar butt, while adjusting the bolt on the Golem. 

"Hold still, Bekki," he muttered to the big bucket of bolts. "Just a few more turns and you'll be ready for action." 

His hands strained against the wrench, he heard the rust of the screw grind with the metal. This baby had been motionless in the water for several decades. 

"Dakk, you still working on the piece of crap?" August asked as he walked into the workshop. "With all the gold that you got you could buy yourself five or six armour suits; why are you sticking with that crap!" 

"You don't know the whole story, Auggie," Dakk said. "This girl is just getting warmed up." 

"Looks like she's waaaaaaaaaaaaaay past her prime," August said with a chuckle. "Just scrap that rusty eyesore before you get ill." 

Before August knew it a huge wrench zinged past his head and clanged against the wall. 

"What?" August stammered. 

"You watch what you say about a lady now," Dakk told him in a stern voice. "She may be old and rusted but still it doesn't make her useless!"

Barbarian

As the innkeeper finished his tale an eerie silence fell upon the ramshackle inn. The lone stranger at the corner table smiled beneath the shadow of his hooded cloak and took a long pull from his tankard of ale. 

The tale was good, though well embellished. The battle of that evening so long ago had not been so heroic or romantic as the innkeeper's telling made it out to be, but such was always the case with battle tales told by those who had played no role in the fray. He couldn't blame the man for taking liberties with the facts; the old fellow had an inn to run after all, and a good tale was good for business. 

The serving girl came his way but the stranger waved her off; he'd had his fill of ale and of his own past for one night. 

Rising, he collected his sword from where it leaned against the wall next to the table. Its unnaturally perfect metal disguised with dirty leather strips and a worn scabbard so as not to attract unwanted attention. He was here to remember his past, not to relive it. 

As the barbarian reached the door he turned back for a last look on the place where his adventures had begun. What a foolish boy he had been to think that life was so simple. Back then he would have been satisfied to make a place such as this his home, but no longer. Not after all he had seen. His home was among the stars, and to the stars he must go. He felt them calling him. 

The door swung shut and the lone figure was gone, swallowed whole by the darkness of the night outside. 

In the blackness far above a single star streaked across the sky.

The Honor of One

Chem stayed in the darkness of shadow, watching the three hooded assassins jump from building to building. He had received a tip from one of his informants that there was a 5,000 gold contract on the new owner of The Hag's Head Tavern. 

"It's to be done at midnight. The witching hour," his informant had said in a raspy voice. "They are to make her bleed slowly and cut her open with a thousand little cuts." 

"Do you know why?" Chem inquired. He had just paid the informant a small gem.  

"Tis because the owner is a witch," the informant said in a low voice. "She had put a hex on a merchant's son. The son died a horrible, disfiguring death and the merchant wants his revenge." 

Chem now waited for the three to strike. He watched as they moved about, fast and silent like shadows over a field. His nose picked up the scent of two men approaching from behind. He was set up!

The Prisoner

He sat in the cell, twiddling his thumbs. He had nothing else to do. In the cubicle he had called home for the past three days he had done a lot of thinking and a hell of lot of soul searching. He heard footsteps coming down the hallway and other prisoners calling out to the orc guard. Either complaining or pleading. To him it was just the same. The rough orc stopped in front of his bars. 

"You," the gruff being said. "It's your turn to die." 

"Well now," Drake said. "We all eventually die." 

"It's your turn today," the guard told him as he unlocked the cell door. 

"That's what you think," Drake mumbled under his breath. He could have gotten out of this place days ago but decided to stay and rest and enjoy the days of maggot-infested gruel to eat and a lumpy bed to lay on. It was heaven compared to the last place he had been.