wrenqreed

[wrenqreed]

Scout's Logs - 03, New Friend

It's dark, or dim I suppose is more accurate. The smell of cheap spirits and cigarette smoke is heavy in the air. I fidget with my lighter flicking it open and closed, the ember at the end of my cigarette glows as I take puff after puff.

The bartender watches silently, something I'm not normally bothered by, it could be everything that's happened lately, or it could be the alcohol, but it annoys me. I tell him dismissively to get me a Dark 'n' Stormy just to get rid of him for a few moments.

Looking back it seems obvious, but at the time I couldn't tell you why I was here. My assumption was to forget, get shit faced on all the cheap liquor they'll give me, go home, and do it again the next day. Looking around the bar, I could tell most of my fellow patrons were here for similar things.

My curiosity often wondered what led other people into a place like this—Yet I found myself incredibly apprehensive when she approached me asking for my story.

She was a puzzle piece that didn't fit in. She walked with the confidence of someone who always got what they came for. Her dress was bluer than the ocean, so much so that one glance would remind you of summer days on the beach. It draped over her shoulders barely touching the ground, her golden jewelry shimmered in the dim lighting, and her hair was loose and flowed with an etherealness one would only see in a ghost.

I knew my apprehensions weren't misplaced the second she took her seat in the stool opposite to mine. Her voice was like woven silk sewed with a needle dipped in poison, and when she spoke she commanded the attention of anyone in earshot.

"What's a kid like you doing in a place like this?"

I'm not sure why I didn't lie, or tell her to "Go away," or more likely, "Fuck off, and let me drink in peace," or any of the other phrases I've said many times to creeps, weirdos, and ne'er-do-wells. Perhaps the alcohol was yet again to blame—I was a few drinks in by now, and the bartender had just placed my 4th in front of me, maybe it was her charm, maybe I was just so desperate that I would've told anyone if they asked.

"All my friends are dead, or as good as, I'm also pretty sure my best friend—Former best friend rather, killed my family. Except for one, but I took care of that."

I polished off my 4th drink of the night, letting the liquor warm my tired body.

"Well shoot fire, I've certainly heard of worse reasons to drink. Hey Lawrence darling?" She spoke with a Southern draw not uncommon on Earth in the deep South of the Americas. I already had too much liquor working it's way through me to notice, but something about her didn't appear to be human.

The bartender, Lawrence apparently, regarded the woman, "Make us two Dirty Martinis precious, and just stick it on my tab," the man grunted and left us as he began working.

I've written more than once by now that I'd had a fair bit to drink. But a blind man could see this woman wanted something, and I wanted to end this interaction as quickly as possible.

"Not that I don't really appreciate your incredible generosity, but why don't you just tell me what the hell you want already."

She laughed... no it was more like a cackle. "It's rude to conduct business without showing some goodwill first." She paused before speaking again, "By the way, you can call me Cecilia, Cecilia of Andala." It was then the pieces started falling into place.

"You're an Alarune then." I stated, it wasn't a question—it was more of.. an observation. I studied her, I've never encountered one of her kind before.

"And you're a Dusk-borne what's it matter?" She sighed, seeming slightly weary

"We prefer to just be called Human, or Terran if you must be informal," I gritted losing my patience.

She laughed again, "Oh come on it's not like you were born on Earth, purebred humans are as ghosted as Earth itself."

“You better watch your tongue lady, I’m not afraid to cut it out.” I bark, hand already hovering over my 625.

“Oh calm down, you Dusk are all so jumpy.” She says, her steely eyes never leaving mine, “I’m actually here to offer you a job.”

I study her face, and yet that wry smile never drops from her lips. “Go fuck yourself.” I say as I get to my feet, fully intent on leaving.

She sighed again, "Fine, have it your way." She groaned, "Your kinds always so stubborn..."

As I was checking my pockets, paranoid about leaving something important behind, she appeared in front of me holding a small white card, "In case you change your mind~"

I could've probably left without taking it, but I was so tired that I decided the path of least resistance couldn't hurt once in a while. The only things on it were two numbers, the front was a holocall number, the back was... her offer.

It was a lot... I'd never have to do bounties again, hell I might never have to work again.

As I walked away I told her to shove a stick up her ass sideways.

The next week was, in a word, fruitless. In another word, slow, and my newly found drinking habits were quickly draining what little money I had left over from doing bounties. I was getting desperate, so while I was out driving aimlessly, I decided to call her, Cecilia.

“Talk to me,”

I immediately regret it as her portrait appears on the holocall, "It’s me.” I reply,

“So it is, are you finally ready to hear about the job?” she asks, but she doesn’t wait for a response. “My sister Slang went missing on an arctic planet, Viri-83. I don’t know if she was kidnapped or if she’s deserting The Bloom. frankly I don’t care. Find her and bring her back to us and the money is yours. Flicking you the details.”

The situation wasn't anything crazy, I was to recover a missing Alarune and return her to The Bloom, and a meeting place would be established after they confirmed she was with me and safe. From what I read, it appeared Slang had been openly discussing with some of the other Alarune the idea of leaving the planet, curiously they didn't include any reason that may have been. Of course it was probably because I wasn't trusted by The Bloom to have that type of information.

I put the coordinates for Viri-83 into my autopilot and rise to my feet. I groan when I see the place is an arctic planet, me and the cold never got along. Despite my search I don't own anything particularly suited for cold weather, but I can't just drop this job over something like that.

As I search I think about the girl I'm looking for, and what circumstances would make an Alarune abandon their people. The whole thing reminded me of the people who would run away from The Iron Kin in the middle of the night. When I was young it didn't make sense to me, it even made me angry for a while but Pops? He didn't mind, he told me that folks should be allowed to decide for themselves.

I landed, and as the airlocks disengaged I stepped out the ship, the frigid air felt like millions of pin needles stabbing at my skin. I resolved to find this girl fast and get away from this miserable planet.

Civilization was few and far between, and mostly came in the form of small communities of around six to ten people at a time, almost always they were living out of tents and igloos. Occasionally I did run into less or more people in one area, but none of them told me anything helpful.

Something that shocked me was the diversity of races, plenty of Terrans, more than one Hydrai, pretty sure I saw a few Synths, though usually hard to tell without asking them.

I’m finally starting to get used to the cold when a bullet whizzes past my head.

I spin around, yanking my 625 from my hip and fanning the hammer in their direction, I don't bother to aim but by the skin of my teeth a bullet manages to land the shooter in the shoulder.

I turn and run.

I'm not used to running on ice and snow, and my experience on Zenth-3 isn't going to help me here. I always thought it would be at least similar to running through the sand but the only similarity I immediately notice is the low visibility, yet somehow, adrenaline perhaps, I stay on my feet. Thankfully I traveled light, thinking this would be a quick job. I've never been so happy to be wrong.

Another bullet cuts through the haze, closer this time. One slams into the snow in front of me, spraying my face with cold shrapnel. A second pierces through the frigid air landing in my side. I don’t feel it yet, but I know it’s there.

My heartbeat is slamming into my head so hard it's drowning everything out. I avoid the traveled paths knowing it would lead to small groups of people, I don't want anyone getting hurt but me. The untouched snow clings to my boots slowing me down even more.

The snow gets worse, progressing from a light dusting to a full blizzard, dropping the visibility to nothing. I think I'm screwed but the storm helps me lose the gunfire.

Just when my legs begin to give out and I start making peace with the thought of dying out in the snow, I see something that isn't more snow or trees, a cave. Finally some shelter...

Inside the dark, damp hole, I collapsed—first to my knees, then against the wall as my shoulders gave out.

Blood spilled freely, pooling across the slick, partially frozen cave floor.

I tried to move my fingers. Still working—good.

Next my arms, not as much luck. I try again—still nothing..

“Come on… you can’t punk out now…” I mumbled, my voice cracking into a laugh, before devolving into a quiet sob.

“Don’t die on me now, Scout.”

The world spun slowly at first, and then faster, so fast it was nauseating. Then… finally, It stopped.

I’m walking through the camp... or... Is it the camp? I look around and... everything is just... nothing... Not like nothing like when you close your eyes... but like the nothing you see behind your head... it's all... Blank, weightless, maybe... Void?

I call out to my best friend Daniel who's a few feet ahead of me and he turns around, but only for a second, “Catch up Scout! Pops’ needs to see us!” he says.

I start running to catch up to the Ikrathi— more commonly referred to as demon. But the next thing I know I’m not running.

I'm on my knees. My hands are tied behind my back. Daniel is behind me holding my Colt to the back of my head.

In front of me is... my family, but... there’s something wrong with them...

“Have you forgotten so easily?” Daniel asks, but he sounds... wrong... almost like he's... distorted.

It all comes back in the blink of an eye.

I watch as my family are slaughtered one by one by the hand of my best friend, I scream and cry and shout and thrash but nothing happens, eventually they’re all laying in front of me, in a pool of blood, dead.

“It’s your fault,” Daniel is now face to face with me, our noses are almost touching. His voice is loud now, almost deafeningly warped.

I try to cover my ears but my hands fruitlessly rub against the ropes restricting them.

“They died because of you, because you left the clan. They were following your lead, you could’ve saved them, you could’ve stayed with the family.”

I finally slip out of my ropes and plunge my hands over my ears but it's not enough, he’s all around me.

“You could’ve killed me, but now their dead. It’s all. Your. Fault.”

“Hello?”

A new voice, a woman's, soft and scared.

“Oh you’re hurt pretty badly,”

I look up and I see.. something—a silhouette.

“Who are you..?” I ask, through jagged breaths.

“I’ll bandage you up and take you back to where I’ve been hiding..” She says, ignoring the question as if she can’t hear me.

I don't know when I became aware that I was awake, but eventually I was.

I painstakingly go through the effort of opening my eyes. It's slow, it hurts like hell.

But I'm alive.

Just as slowly I sit up, every nerve in my body screamed at me to lie the hell back down. My shoulder was aching. My side throbbed. That was too close, I barely made it.

But I'm alive.

Then I noticed her. A figure moving at the edge of my sight.

Instinctively I reached for my 625.

Maybe, just maybe pulling a gun and screaming was overkill. I'm willing to bet there's a good chance whoever ends up reading this is thinking, "I would not have done that."

Well you know what, I had nearly died—twice—so to say I was on edge would be an understatement.

"Who the hell are you, and where am I?!"

The girl turns around with her hands in the air, looking and sounding terrified,

"Please put the gun down, I- I found you in a cave bleeding out, I was just trying to help I swear!"

She looks like she's on the verge of tears. Now that she turned around I noticed something else, she's an Alarune.

I don't drop the gun but my free hand slowly moves away from the hammer, "What's your name?" I ask narrowing my eyes.

"Slang... Slang of Willow," she says stammering.

I can't help but notice she has a different last name from the woman who hired me. But it's probably something I don't understand about the Alarune, I've had very few interactions with them after all. They struggle to survive on Zenth-3.

I hold the gun trained on her center mass for a few more moments before holstering it, and moving to stand.

I don't get far.

Either she's incredibly strong or the bloodloss is kicking my ass, I'm guessing it's the bloodloss.

"You need to rest," she insist. Her voice is soft, but firm. "You were barely holding on when I found you."

I glare daggers at her, but I'm in no condition to argue.

It's just then I become aware of a high pitched whistling sound, apparently she just noticed it too judging by the surprise on her face.

She turns around in a panic, "I forgot about the kettle!" She yells, a little too loudly for boiling water. "Do you want some tea?" She asked, turning around holding the, now silent, kettle.

I shrug, "Why not."

I study her as she moves, it's then I really notice... She's really pretty.

Her eyes were bright green, her brown hair was straight, barely touching her shoulders. It faded into a light green starting about halfway down.

Sadly I still have a job to do, and when I speak, it's matter-of-fact and without emotion,

"You're an Alarune."

She tightens her expression.

"Yeah," she says after a few long moments. "What about it? Nothing weird about Alarune around here." She replied hastily.

Admittedly, I don't know much about Alarune. I could count on one hand how many I've met, but even I knew this was more suspicious than an Ikrathi running a blackjack table.

I unclip my holster and hover my hand over my 625.

"Slang, I've been through a lot today, actually I've been through a lot these past weeks." I keep my voice steady and calm, "I'm giving you one chance to be honest before I pump you full of so many holes your hivemind won't recognize you."

She freezes for a moment, just a moment. The look of fear soon fades, now she looks... sad. She slowly finishes making two cups of tea, and hands me one. She sits across from me on a pile of snow.

"It's a long story..." She said, sighing.

"I've got time." I reply sharply,

"Did you know Alarune spend 20 hours a day in meditation?" She asks but she didn't wait for a response.

"Not just that... Most Alarune never leave The Bloom. They stay on that planet with the hivemind for... Forever..." She was gripping her cup of tea so tightly her knuckles were turning white.

"I didn't wanna live like that.. I wanna go somewhere... Do something... I want to save people. I want to see the universe, not spend everyday recalling old forgotten history, I want to make history."

She looked on the verge of tears. I held up a hand signaling her to stop.

"I get it," I say softly "you might not believe me but I do."

She shook her head, "Doesn't matter, my sister sent you didn't she? That means you're here to take me home. Whether I come willingly or not."

Her hands were shaking, and her breathing was quick and shallow. I sighed, knowing I was about to do something really damn stupid.

I extended my hand out to her, "Wanna see every corner of the universe?"

She looked at me with the oh so unique look of, "Why would you think I'm stupid enough to fall for this?"

I raise my right hand, "May my father be damned forever if I'm lying. That may not mean much to you but Pops was my hero before he died." I insist, with my best persuasion voice.

She slowly—begrudgingly—takes my hand.

"You're really not lying?" She asks, her voice cracking.

"I come from a place where honesty is valued above just about anything else" I say, smiling weakly. "Well... until recently but I also left recently so trust me."

That must've convinced her because she finally started to look a little more... Relieved.

"Alright," she sighs, "What do I really have to lose?"

"Just one problem," I mutter. "My ship is a bit of a walk... and I've lost a lot of blood.."

Long story short: We made it

I walked back to my ship with one arm around Slang's shoulders, leaning against her as we trudged the snow, which I learned she also wasn't used to.

When we finally made it to my ship I led her left towards the bunks, when I saw her expression shift. Her eyes drifted right as we walked past it.

"What's uh... All that?" She asked gesturing to the side.

"Oh yeah..." I start hesitantly, "that was a... Project I never finished."

I looked around my ship—at the project I'd once believed in.

The empty bar, the abandoned plans, my hollow dreams nailed to the empty half built walls.

When I saw Cecilia's offer, I saw my dreams coming true.

"Scout's traveling Saloon"—open to every drifter, wanderer, and everything in between. With ice cold drinks and warm stories to share.

But... Listening to Slang talk about her dreams, and her life back home.. it reminded me of Pops, specifically something he used to say to me.

"A dream that hurts another isn't worth dreaming Scout." He'd say to me.

I sighed as I reached for the comms panel.

"I need to go call your sister."

She stiffened, "Oh yeah? Why's that?"

I glanced at her, and for once I didn't have to try and smile, it came naturally.

"So I can tell her to take her money... and choke on it."

[wrenqreed]

About Intermenides

It is still being worked on. I'd like to begin working on the next chapter very soon. I've been doing a lot of background worldbuilding work and development for Ascended, which means Intermenides has taken the sidelines momentarily. But not for long.

[wrenqreed]

Scout's Logs 02 - Ghost

I had stayed at Pete's shop for a few days, just long enough for my ship to be operational. I left in the middle of the night, I liked the guy, almost as much as I liked Pop's, but he had a way of keeping you.

I pat my pockets looking for a pack of coffin nails, and when I turned up empty I decided it would be good to prepare before heading off to Zenth-3. I was flat broke, but I had a rainy day fund hidden behind a panel in the storage room, it was about 500 bits. Not a lot, but enough, it would get me what I needed.

I drove into a gas station, of course ships don't use gasoline anymore, they use a type of special crystal liquified into fuel. I entered the station and grabbed a length of rope, a bunch of water, some dried food, and a crow bar. Enough supply to last me a few boring months, or about one interesting day. I walked up to the clerk, and pointed at a pack of coffin nails. He scans all my items

"520 bits"

Damn it. "Just go ahead and take off the-" he interrupts, "Hey don't I know you?" He ask. This catches me off guard but I remain composed for now.

"I seriously doubt it," I tell him,

"No no I definitely know you, you're one of Pop's kids. I had a couple of jobs done by you kids. You sounded like you were short I'll cover the difference for you this time, I know you all are good for it. Just come back sometime."

I hesitantly hand him my 500 and he gives me my receipt. I forgot how well known The Iron Kin was in their glory days.

As I left I made sure to dedicate the station's name to memory, "The Lone Ranger."

I stood outside my ship, smoking a cigarette and looking at the stars. Whatever happened next, I needed to have nerves of steel. I went back to the cockpit, and started heading home.

As I exited my ship I was blasted by the hot desert air, there was a sandstorm when I landed so I wrapped my face with a bandana and put my goggles down.

It didn't take long to locate the old base, Zenth-3 was small for a planet and Iron Kin bases were small cities at their smallest and metropolis at their largest, this one was on the larger end.

I walked into the camp, removing my bandana and shifting my goggles to rest around my neck.

Most people didn't recognize me, but I did hear quite a few whispers, most just shocked at the audacity to walk right in like I owned the place.

Once upon a time I did own this place. Me and Daniel worked our asses off to rise through the ranks. We killed and stole and smuggled, sweat and cried and bled, all just to impress Pops. But that was like I said, once upon a time.

Sometimes, I wonder what would've been if Pop's had picked a successor, we both knew he'd never pick one of us, it would've been like picking between his children.

In the midst of my daydream I didn't realize someone had approached me until they put a hand on my shoulder with an aggressive, "Hey, what are you doing here?"

I didn't waste time, I turned around swept his feet out from under him pulled out my revolver and the next thing he knew I was on top of him holding the barrel of my gun in his mouth.

"You'll fuck right off if you know what's good for you, this doesn't involve you."

I held it there for few more seconds before getting up and looking around and announcing, "Would anyone else like to try their luck? I got plenty of bullets." No one looked at me, so I continued on my way.

"This is... Really easy." I remember thinking to myself.

I found the building I was looking for, the "Office" so to speak. All the buildings here were made of scrap metal welded together, they were surprisingly sturdy but hard to differentiate, so finding this one specifically took some time. I found it though, it was one of the tallest after all.

When I finally found it I wasted no time, I run up the stairs looking for Pop's old office, I find it and try the handle, locked.

"Of course," I said to myself before kicking the door in.

"Don't move." I look up and Daniel is holding a gun, Beretta 9mm, and it was trained on my head.

"Oh look Danny boy finally grew a pair of balls and picked up a gun," I mocked

"Don't fuck with me Scout, you're not exactly holding a winning hand,"

"Yeah I can see that."

He threw me a small key, I caught it, "It's time for you to find out what happened to the others that left. Open the safe, try anything funny and I'll shoot you." He pointed to a safe in the corner, I walked over and unlocked it.

The first thing I noticed, was the smell. The smell of fresh and old death alike. The only thing inside was a black duffle bag, I take it out slowly, my hands trembling, my heart feels like it's going to leap out of my chest, but my breathing remains steady and my eyes focused.

I slowly unzip it, the smell hits me all at once so much stronger than before, inside I saw dozens of heads, some human, some cyborg, some plant people called Alarune, some bird people or kenku, as well as a few mermaids, I recognized every single one of them. These were my Family.

"This is what happens Scout, when people leave The Iron Kin, the new bosses send me to take care of it. You're next. This is you're last chance to join us."

I wanted to scream, to cry, to break down right there. But there wasn't time for it, I still had a job to do.

I held the bag in my hand, and it hit the ground with a wet thud

My head was spinning my breath was shallow but on the surface my body was steady and my eyes were full of conviction. I did everything in my power to appear calm and collected but inside I was screaming.

"Danny..." I started but I was interrupted,

"Don't call me that. It's Daniel." He hissed. I pause before speaking again,

"Daniel." I started, again, "I don't understand, this isn't you, you're better than this. Pops taught us both better than this." My voice broke slightly as I spoke, and my hands began to tremble.

"Maybe, but that me died with Pops. This is the me the new bosses like." He holstered his Beretta and approached me, "You still have time to join us Scout, you can avoid this," he said extending a hand in my direction.

I reached for my Colt

Daniel saw it coming, his hand was like lighting reaching for his Beretta but I was faster, I had always been just a little bit faster than him, and that gave me the edge to get the first shot.

It hit center mass but Daniel was wearing a bulletproof vest, still he stumbled back the force from the .45 most likely cracked a couple ribs, I throw down one of Pop's old book shelves and take cover.

Bullets ripped through the bookshelf, they went through the wooden shelf and into cabinets behind me throwing bits of shrapnel and wood and paper everywhere.

"Scout don't be ridiculous! They were dead the moment they left, are you gonna throw your whole life away for a couple ghosts?!"

"Ghosts you helped raise Danny!" I screamed, "If Pop's was here what would-"

"Pop's is dead, Scout!" He hissed, "He's dead, and just like all the others he's never coming back!"

Daniel was hysterical, his rage tears stung at his cheeks,

"And more than that Pop's was an old fool! He thought The Iron Kin could be something more, he was too blinded by old fashioned ideals to see the truth! We're weapons, and that's all you'll ever be!"

I had heard enough I grabbed the 625 attached to my ankle holster and popped up just long enough to shoot out three more shots, ankle, thigh, shoulder.

I thought for certain those two shots to his leg would incapacitate him, but I was wrong. He dropped for a second but before I could react he jumped over the bookshelf and was on top of me.

He yanked the Machete from his side and brought it down hard and fast, just like I'd watched him do a hundred times in combat drills—I managed to twist out of the way just in time, the metal was so close to my face I could feel the woosh of air rushing past me.

We struggled for a long time, Daniel was bigger which gave him an edge, but I had always been faster, and that speed kept me alive.

I put one of my knees on his chest and pushed with everything I had, his broken ribs cracked, I needed to get enough range of movement to reach my 625, and just as he looked like he was gearing up to bring the machete down again,

Click

The gun was under his chin, we both waited for what could've been forever but was most likely just a few seconds, waiting for the inevitable BANG.

But it never came.

Daniel was in rough shape, he was losing a ton of blood, and when he finally spoke it was through deep ragged breathes,

"Well, go on. You won, get your revenge." He mumbled

"I don't want revenge, I want my best friend back." I spat the words like venom, and he slowly pulled back, I did the same.

The silence that entered the room was ear splitting, and after a few long moments Daniel spoke again.

"You're not getting out of her unscathed, you know that don't you?" He asked, holstering his gun and wiping his machete clean.

I refused to look at him as I retrieved the duffle bag,

"Pops was a crazy old fool with a lot of old ideals, but he taught us a lot of good things. Things you seem to have forgotten."

I threw the duffle bag over my shoulder, I'd take them somewhere better, they'd get a real burial. I took out a coffin nail and lit it between my teeth.

"One of those things was this Danny, Family isn't blood, it's who you bleed for."

Daniel collapsed into pops old chair with a grunt, he wouldn't die.

He couldn't die, yet.

As soon as Daniel sat down I didn't think, I ran out the office door down the hall and towards the stairs, the air was thick with smoke, metal dust, and ozone.

I knew these halls well, I hadn't been home in years but I learned to memorize every nook and cranny of this place. But as I ran I heard the rhythmic sound of boots on uneven metal floor. Even bloody and bruised and beaten Daniel wouldn't let me leave on peaceful terms.

Now I knew what Pop's sent me here for, he wanted me to find them, because deep down he knew what would come of his death, the old man didn't wish for his children to die but he at least ensured they get a proper burial. As long as I make it out of here alive

Shots rang out, I turned the corner just as they fly by, if a window was still there glass would've been heard shattering. The way the sound of the gunshots reverberated off the metal walls, floor, and ceiling, it was mind numbingly painful but I couldn't stop.

I spotted a fire escape and without thinking I ran out it, and that's when I saw a railing on another building just across from this one, large but not as large as pop's office.

I didn't even think twice I climbed on the railing and jumped, I barely made it I pulled myself up and rolled onto the catwalk just as Daniel caught up. I started running again, two shots rang out one grazed my ear but I wouldn't find out until later.

I knew if I could just get to the old hospital wing I could make it, I remembered spending weeks helping the engineers install a make shift pully system to help get the more wounded soldiers to the higher floors, we had electricity but it was spotty and elevators were unreliable.

I jumped over building after building as Daniel chased me until eventually I found it I slid down ignoring the burning on my skin. I waited for a few long moments for Daniel to give chase, but he didn't. Somewhere along the way I must've lost him.

Now was the hard part guards would be everywhere patrolling, and after my earlier outbursts and showdown with Daniel, almost certainly looking for me.

The good news is I knew these alley's, and more of the place was alley than it wasn't. I knew how to use that to my advantage, Pop's had taught me well, by the time I finally made it to the edge of the city it was nightfall, I carefully scaled the chain link fence, and once I was out I didn't stop running.

I ran until I made it to my ship, rushed into the control room, I was a careful flyer but today I wasn't wasting my time checking fuel, or diagnostic information, or even the error log. I didn't even sit down before taking off, but once we were off the ground I took my seat and pushed the throttle so hard I thought it might snap.

I drive the thing manually, it reminded me of that smuggle run gone bad, Daniel was bleeding from his side, Lynn was unconscious, and Harry was desperately trying to get the shuttle door closed and the airlock engaged.

I landed my ship on the moon sized planet, Pete's shop was visible from the ship, it still had neon signs on and wooden boards hanging haphazardly off the upper floors.

When I got their Tony was already waiting for me, he was Pete's bodyguard, I wondered if he knew about the set-up, I couldn't believe this, Tony was at my sixteenth birthday, he brought me bracelets I wore everyday until l lost them in a shootout.

He tried to calm me down as I approached, "Woah Scout think ab-"

BANG

I didn't think, I didn't feel, I didn't regret. He was dead, just like that.

I stepped over his lifeless body, as I marched through the front door with the conviction of a woman who had nothing left to lose.

My boots echoed throughout the old wooden shop, I made my way past the shelves, I marched through parts littered on the floor, I walked through the tools I'd never seen him use, and when I reached the door I was unsurprised to find it locked. I was done wasting time, I pulled out my Colt and shot the handle off kicking the door open as I did.

Pete was standing in front of his desk as if he was expecting me, but I rationalized that he probably heard the gun shots, if he has known I'd live he'd have most surely fled.

I stared at the man with eyes filled with rage, this man was like a second father to me, and today he sent me to my death, so now I'd send him to his.

"Woah Woah Kid—Scout, think this through, You know I'd never willing set you up. Kid you gotta believe me!" His voice cracked

I took a step inside and closed the door.

"Kid they said they'd kill me if I didn't cooperate!"

I slowly crossed the room, one deliberate step after the next, I let my heavy boots echo through his office as I slowly approached. I was going to savor the fear in his eyes.

And then, click

The hammer pulled back as smooth and soft as a lemonade on a warm summer day.

"Scout please have some merc-" I shoved the barrel of my gun in his mouth.

His eyes went wide, and from this distance I could feel his paniced breathes on my face.

My eyes were bloodshot, my hair was ratty and in my face, I was still covered in blood, fresh and old, and when I spoke again, it was calm, and cold.

"It'll be a cold day in hell when I trust you again."

BANG

Pete slumped to the ground, first landing on his knees and then falling to his back leaning against the desk.

"Goodnight, old fool."

I left the office, leaving behind another Ghost from the past.

I stepped out into the cold moonlight, and for not the first time felt like I had the stars observing me. I needed to take my family somewhere for a proper burial but not yet, I needed to be calm first. They deserved a burial where I was at my best.

I dragged Pete's old desk outside and used it to start a fire, I lit a coffin nail on the campfire and took a long drag, the smoke filled my lungs as I felt the universes most popular drug do it's work.

The crackling of wood reminded me of simpler times. Better days, days spent under the stars with my friends, with Daniel, with Pops. It reminded me of jobs gone bad and Debbie's terrible "survival" meals that I'm moderately sure killed a few people. But just like the heads in the duffle bag on my ship, they were all ghost. Everyone in my family was dead, or as good as.

I hopped on my ship and sent my auto pilot on for a planet similar in climate to Earth, at least before the incidents. Out of respect I won't say where they are in this journal.

I found a nice hill with a large tree that could've been oak if I knew as much about trees as I did guns. I dug them each a hole about 4 feet deep, and gave a small eulogy.

Before leaving Pete's I swiped a shot glass and a bottle of his most expensive whiskey, not like he'll be needing it anymore. I poured the amber liquid into my glass and placed the bottle between the shallow graves.

"Well guys, here we are. Shit I-" I stuttered, "I don't even know where to begin" I sighed

"You all were... Everything to me, and while I'd love to say something about each of you, there's just too much to say so I hope you'll forgive me for generalizing slightly..."

I thought carefully about my next words.

"You all were the best friends I ever had, everyone in Iron Kin was someone I would've died for—until recently. I pray to whoever is listening that your final moments weren't spent grappling with the betrayal of your once good friend."

By now I was openly sobbing.

"Pops firmly believed in an afterlife, and if he was right, I know you guys are sitting at the bar saving me a seat. Keeping the shots cold for me. I'll be there someday, and no matter what happens, I will avenge you."

I dumped the entire bottle of whiskey onto the ground over each grave, and than took my own shot, it tasted terrible.

"I don't understand how Pete drank this stuff, Pop's always said he may as well drank horse piss." I laughed at the Old man's postmortem joke.

"Daniel is gonna burn in hell for what he did, and if I have to go there myself to make it happen, I will."

[wrenqreed]

Scout's Logs - 00, Prologue

I land my mech on the ship, the inside is still warm and my chest hurts something awful. I either got hit by a loose panel or one of those thugs actually got a decent hit in, couldn't tell. It was dark.

The airlocks hiss, the sound brings bad old anxieties—And as I enter I check the seals, Once, Twice, Three whole times—Once I'm satisfied I let the oxygen from the ship in and remove my helmet. As the air locks re-engage I check the seals one more time. I made off with a decent haul today—A couple guns, found more than a few bits, we'll make it work.

I'm immediately hit with the smell of burning wood, and the sound of crackling logs accompanied by the soft sounds of jazz. The left door opens with the satisfyingly smooth sound of mechanical pieces coming undone and moving out of place.

I rub my forehead, I've got the start of a killer headache, and the chaos that follows this moment will either make it better or so much worse.

I enter the bar room, the floor is hardwood mahogany—The same stain as all the chairs and tables though the floor is much more worn out from years of abuse. Red Velvet cloths drape over each table of them all of them looked like they'd been freshly swapped for clean ones.

There is boy sitting behind the bar of the dimly lit room. He's a scrawny guy, his hair is short and swooshes to one side, and he's got his tips dyed a dark blue. His feet are kicked up onto the bar and he's cleaning a glass. The bottle rack behind him is dark, filled with various bottles of base spirits and mixers, The room was pristine—i'm impressed, but he knew better, and judging by the fact that he didn't greet me he wasn't aware of his surroundings.

I cross the room walking behind the bar, I slowly approach him carefully keeping my footsteps silent.

The next thing he knows he's falling. The chair is to the side, the glass shatters, a woman comes rushing into the room. Her straight hair barely reaches her shoulders, begining brown before fading into a lime green.

"Pistol wha-!" She starts and cuts herself off when she sees me.

"He had his feet up on the bar again didn't he?" She asked, the her panicked voice steadying with every word she speaks.

I say nothing I keep my eyes focused on him, my arms are crossed and I'm tapping my foot impatiently. He looks around trying to piece together what just happened, then he looks up—And then quickly glances away.

"Thought you'd be out longer" He says laughing nervously—As well as not looking up at me.

"Clean up the broken glass and re-polish the bar," I say extending my hand to him, he took it and I helped him up. "Go have Slang check you for cuts before you start." He hesitates, then nods and walks over to the other woman in the room.

"One of these day's you'll learn..." She sighs disappointed as she grabs his hand.

Just then the other two members of our crew walk in,

"I heard the crash from my bed, maybe this one will finally knock some sense into you," the shorter of the pair says laughing like it's the funniest thing he's heard all week.

"Good evening to you as well Trigger," I reply to the first man before nodding, to the other "Butane."

The larger man grunts which I take to mean, "Good to see you cap'n,"

Trigger's a big guy—both taller and bulkier than his younger brother, Pistol. His hair is long down to his elbows with streaks of red, It would look pretty nice if he ever bothered to take care of it.

Butane on the other hand has short orange hair, and is the biggest out of our crew, he's got a voice like gravel and a heart of gold—if you can get past that cactus like exterior.

Trigger drops down into a seat like he owns it, I've told him a million times that's gonna hurt our chairs but tonight I'm too tired to care. He produces a deck of cards, shuffling it with a showman ship only years of practice can achieve. He does this at the end of every night weather anyone plays him or not. He throws a couple of hands and Butane and Pistol take their seats, Slang stands.

"Scout come play a few rounds, you've been out all night afterall."

I consider his offer for a moment, but hold up my hand, "Actually I'm probably gonna call it early tonight. It was a long scavenge. plus the ship was less abandoned then we thought."

This gets Slang and Butane's attention

"I know, I know," I Say pulling out my gun—A .45 caliber revolver I've had since my days as a gun for hire I don't feel like replacing, I extend it friendly end first to Butane.

He takes it and nods looking right at me the entire time, ever since the incident back on Uanao Butane approaches his work as maintenance with a certain meticulousness that some would say borderlines the insane. "It'll be ready to go in the morning, I'm gonna play a couple hands," he says sitting back down, slowly and carefully.

Butane always checks our weapons after every fight, no matter how small. It sounds like overkill but it is half the reason I hired him, I've never had a gun fail me since.

"I'm gonna head to bed now," I said as I head to the door—before I have time to leave Slang is already dragging me through the ship, much the same way she did when I got shot on Viri-83. Apparently saving someone's life makes them your permanent and responsibility. If it was anyone else I'd just go to bed, but ever since that day I feel like I owe her the peace of mind.

"Can this really not wait till morning," I groan wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed.

"Absolutely not we need to make sure you're not injured," Slang insist as she pulls me with strength I thought her small frame incapable of into our medical bay.

She goes through her whole routine. Which I'm not going to tell you about—Not because anything happened, but because I don't want to describe how my best friend poked and prodded every part of my body checking for bullet holes.

"Looks good," she says finally

"Does that mean I can go to bed?"

"What if I said no and made you stay here all night?" She said with a shit eating grin.

I do a mock death scene, "Oh how awful you are!" I cry in my most dramatically undramatic voice, I'm not an actor.

"What happened back there?" She asked suddenly very serious.

I grunt, "Same old, same old" I say looking away and rubbing my wrist with my left hand.

She looks at me, that famous "You're busted" look. She already knew and there was no point lying

"Bullshit Scout we've been working together for years I know when you're hiding something" She said raising her voice an octave.

I sigh and put my face in my hands "Look..." I start sounding a little more annoyed than I would've liked, "I was gonna tell everyone in the morning for now I just really want to go to bed can we please finish up?"

I looked at her, and she saw I was genuine.

"You don't look any worse than you usually do." She muttered

I flip her the bird and walked off laughing, "You're the worst,"

I'm in bed now lying down writing all of this. I think I'm gonna start keeping a log of everything that happens to us. But really I'm keeping this journal because, if I'm right—I might not have a lot of time left. I want my friends to know what happened. I want them to know who got me. I want them to know that I haven't always been honest with them. I want them to know me...

Gonna end this first entry here, terrible place to end a story but, this isn't a book.

[wrenqreed]

I approve of sitting in shitty little diners. And motels.

Scout's Logs - 01, New Beginnings

I remember it like it was yesterday one night—I sat in a shitty little diner I didn't bother to remember the name of. I was alone, my ship desperately needed repairs, and after this meal I was flat broke.

I sat hunched over the old cracked table, the broken down wooden chair caused my bones to ache something awful. The air smelled like burnt grease and gunpowder, the place had clearly been lived in, I could imagine it as a hot spot for locals and wanders alike just looking to get a hot meal and some decent coffee. But this diner, much like myself, we'd seen better days.

I kept my eyes on every other person in the room, from here I could count five guns, seven blades and one or two blunt weapons—All being held by someone in the diner of course. I glance occasionally at the entrance and exits especially if I hear someone come in or out. These are old habits I don't wish to break, they keep me sharp. They keep me alive.

That's when a ghost entered the shitty little diner, one I had been trying to out run for a long time. He walked right up to me and greeted me in a way I don't much care for these days.

"The clan needs you back, soldier," I wince. The son of a bitch that just walked through the doors is Daniel. Back when I was a part of The Iron Kin we were rising up the ranks together. We were good at what we did, we looked out for each other. We weren't just family, we were best friends. But those days are long behind me.

"I'm not a solider anymore, and you know damn well our family is in pieces," I respond dismissively, Already halfway through an involuntary eye roll..

The conversation brings me back to those early days, back when I was fighting for something. Back then I had a place to call home, people to protect, a reason to do the things I did. I still remember when pops found me and Daniel, just a couple of kids wandering around Zenth-3. Pops took us in, taught us how to fight, eventually showed us how to shoot, I showed a natural talent for pistols early on, Danny on the other hand favored blades, anything from a knife to a sword he was damn good with. But when things got taken over by… new management, that's when I, and a good chunk of others decided to pack our shit and leave.

I barely notice when he starts to speak again, "I know you loved Pops just like everyone else but-" I cut him off,

"Keep his name out your filthy mouth you son of a bitch." He stood up matching my tone and volume,

"Don't fucking pretend you're the only one that cared about the old man Scout! You know what he meant to me, to all of us!"

We lock eyers for a small eternity. Finally someone decides to come break it up.

"Everything alright folks?" Daniel looks at me before answering,

"Yes ma'am, I was just catching up with an old friend. I'll be on my way now." He looked at me one more time before leaving,

"Just consider their offer Scout, you've always been too proud for your own good," with that he left me.

I knew what they wanted, weather Daniel or the new bosses wanted to admit it I was the best merc they ever had. Losing me was a devasting blow, they should've considered that before they did what they did to pops.

This did make me wonder what's so important though, assassination? Smuggling? Surely the average member hasn't decreased in quality that much. Or maybe they just can't afford to have some jackoff screwing things up for them.

I rise to my feet and thank the old woman for the meal before paying and heading out to my rust bucket.

This ship used to be my pride and joy but now it's in a sorry state: paint rusted off, air locks barely holding on, engine giving out on me, and worst of all I was almost out of gas. Despite this, the old girl had one more trip in her, and I knew where to take her to make it count.

Whenever I needed some quick cash I knew where to go, so I hopped into my chair and prayed my old baby would last one last warp back to Pete's shop.

After a small eternity praying to anyone out there would listen that I'd make it, I arrived at the old man's shop.

It was relatively the same on the outside. A bit more rundown maybe, it didn't matter though, no one came here to window-shop after all. I knock on the door, two slow, three fast, two slow. I wait a moment and when no one lets me in I knock again, harder and no pattern, "It's me, open the damn door." I yell in my best commanding voice.

Eventually someone did, I don't look at him or even acknowledge him I just head straight for the old mans office.

He looked worse since the last time I saw him, his grey hair was a little more grey, his hunchback was even more noticeable, his eyes had somehow gotten crazier looking. When he spoke it was distressing, like the sound of sand paper across a chalkboard, it was the voice of a man who had been drinking for twenty years, smoking for thirty, and cursing even longer than that.

"Well look who it is, am I seeing a ghost or have I finally gone mad?" He said to no one, "Fuck you, old man," I said laughing as I reached out to shake his hand, which he accepted.

"Thought you would've gotten out of here after your falling out with the family, what's got you staying here?" He asked. What happened to you Pete, you used to be so discreet.

"Unimportant I'm here on business Pete. I need emergency repairs, and some money. You know I'm good for it but I can't just come in here asking for help without offering anything. I need a job, for old time's sake?"

The old man looked at me like I was asking the impossible,

"Now I'm not supposed to tell you this but…" Oh here we go… "The Iron Kin has been in contact with me and all the others, they don't want us working with you so you have to come back and-"

I slammed down on his desk, the old thing feels like it might give out but I don't care.

"They can kiss my ass, that's not my family anymore. When Pops died my family died with him! So are you giving me a job or am I taking my services elsewhere."

Pete looked at me, he was calm, he knew I wouldn't hurt him—and he knew I wasn't wrong.

"What's the damage?"

"I'd have to take a look but, blown pistons, shot airlock, the fuel drive has been failing, to top it off I'm out of gas," The old man held up his hand

"I'll take care of it, consider it pay back for all those emergency jobs, but don't think this means I'm helping you for free. As soon as your ships fixed I need something from you," he opened his drawer and took out a small envelope,

"I was saving this for Danny but you clearly need the help, and I always appreciated your discretion, Danny he… Asked too many questions for my taste."

I took the envelope and before I even opened it I felt my stomach sink, the seal on it was red and waxy, not to mention it was old. It had been a few years since I saw it but I knew this symbol, this was unmistakably, Pops old letter sealer. I look at the old man, he already knows.

"Pops entrusted me with one last job, instructed me to hold it until I thought one of you could handle it. Let me be clear Kiddo, this is a job for you alone."

I nod, "It's what Pops would've wanted huh?" I asked, he nodded. "Be careful Kid, go get some sleep, your ship should be operational in a few days. Until then you know my home is yours. But Scout After this-"

"I don't know you." I finished the sentence for him, and left the office without another word.

I walked upstairs, there was an old room me and Danny shared back when Iron Kin wasn't in pieces, it reminded me of those days where we would stay up late, talking to each other about the future of the Clan, the kind of people we hoped to be. Sometimes I wonder, did Danny turn out how he wanted? I know I didn't.

I collapse on the bed, and consider waiting until morning to read the envelope, but I know I need to mentally prepare as soon as possible, below I've transcribed the letter in it's entirety, completely unedited by me.

"To Scout, or Daniel,

If one of you is reading this that must mean you're in quite the pickle. I should be long gone by the time you're seeing this, and if that's not the case I want you to stop reading this letter, and then kick Pete's ass for me.

You kids know I didn't start out as the boss of Iron Kin, I did some things I'm not proud of. You'll come to learn none of your hero's are completely innocent.

Anyway, there are some… loose ends that need tying. But I'm far too old at the time of writing this letter, Kiddos… I don't think I'm gonna be around much longer. I hear the whispers of the other kids, they think I've gotten soft, and weak, and maybe their right. How threatening can a dying old man really be?

If you're not prepared to get your hands dirty stop reading this now, but if you want to see how far your old man's rabbit hole goes, go back to that shithole I found you on, tell them I sent you, don't worry about who they are you'll find them, you were both always so smart. Do this for me and I'll finally be able to sleep peacefully in the eternal goodnight.

Cheers, Pops

P.S. I'm proud of you kids."

I drop the envelope, I try to hold it in but by now I'm silently sobbing. The old man never told us how he felt about us, to hear it now after he's gone, it made me wanna bring him back just to kill him myself.

I shift in bed until I'm sitting at the edge, I put my face in my hands, my pink hair falls and tickles my face,

"Damn you, old man…"

[wrenqreed]

If you haven't played When Twilight Strikes but like my work, you'll adore When Twilight Strikes. It's Urban Fantasy, too, and from an outside perspective largely very similar to my own setting. Of course, once more things are revealed as the story goes along, Coriolis will separate noticeably. But When Twilight Strikes is still one of my favorite urban fantasy writing pieces.

So.... Announcement soon?

[wrenqreed]

reblog if you have skilled writer friends and you're damn proud of them

[wrenqreed]

It's 101% caffeine for me. My blood is more caffeine than oxygen at this point. My adenosine receptors are so overstressed I think they're bleeding.

being a writer is 85% caffeine, 10% impostor syndrome, and 5% “maybe this is actually good?”

[wrenqreed]

Seems interesting. Make sure to check it out, no harm supporting other creators.

may i just ask you something?

if i was to write little bits of my book (not published, im just goofing about) on here would you guys read it?

its all about a group of kids running away in the most unlikely way, by Freight Hopping. none of the kids are really close and are all running from shit home lives.

the main character is called heather, and is a closeted trans boy, who like the name Harvey. they are bi and have a crush on his gay emo best friend, M.K.

they are all together 6 kids. My best friends created 4 of them, my friend jasper or @peculiar-cryptid on Tumblr made Lillianne and Ezra, and my other best mate made Beau and Juliet.

Heather/ Harvey- main character, 16, trans masc., bit alt,

M.K- 17, emo/goth, hair covers his eyes, music lover who brought his guitar when he ran away

Juliet- French and a hardcore goth chick, twin sister to Beau, religious parents.

Beau- French, jock, bully to M.K, love interest to Lillianne

Lillianne- (t.w) has an E.D, was hurt by parents physically, but not to much, going to live with her aunt, big fat crush on Beau, becomes good friends with Heather/ Harvey

Ezra- running from his drunk of a father in search of his mum, meets the gang little bit later, in a gas station in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. looks kinda like a girl, Aro/ace, amazing at camping and hunting!!!

do you want to hear more?

i bet you do!!

[wrenqreed]

If you haven't played Warfarer, go check it out. Anyone who's a fan of Eragon will like it.

— wayfarer episode 3

[wrenqreed]

The 3 AM inspiration...

Time for bed

Meaning it’s prime time for writing and I will not sleep

[wrenqreed]

Writer's Block, and Other Things

Writer's block is a hell of a force. You could have an infinitude of words and ideas swirling in your flesh-pile's skull, but even with those ideas, you can't get them out. Sometimes it's simply better to shift gears for a bit, which is why I'm happy to announce that I'm working on a new project! Coriolis: ASCENDED, a Twine text-adventure set in the Coriolis universe. It'll be added to the masterlist, though there's no publicly available builds yet. Point is, writer's block hits everyone. Good writer's, bad writer's, average writer's, people who have never even tried. The best way I've found to get through it is to stop, breathe, and do something else. Remember to take breaks.

[wrenqreed]

CORIOLIS BONUS 2

Moscow January 11th, 1964 Solomon Marie’s body was found today. It washed up in the harbor last night, ridden with Lacrima Vitreous, enough that she was nearly unrecognizable. She still had her bracelet, though; the Harbormaster recognized it easily enough that he could alert the Usher before the clean-rot went too far, or the death made it to the papers. I find myself sitting in front of the lamp, penning this with my finest ink, uncertain why I bother trying. You haven’t responded in eight moons, not even to Miska, much less Julian or I. I’d long stopped asking our patron what you do with those late nights in Berlin, and each time I suggest a visit to House Brandenberg I am swiftly shut down. Julian knew long before I did that you were gone. Though I don’t wish to speak for him, he used to cry out about your abandonment over dining every night; I’ve kept the porcelain from the plates he smashed over our arguments, in case they hold some of his calor incursus. But now, I only see him staring at the water, and I realize that none of this was ever a fight between us, but one against you. In other words, I am unsure why I’m writing this letter. ‘I wish for forgiveness.’ You would give me none, and I know that. ‘I am angry.’ Perhaps, but it still isn’t right. I’ve torn apart three letters already and I still cannot find the right words, though I can feel them squirming through the burrows of my soul. I’ve concluded that this will be my last letter, even if I am aware Julian and Miska have both stopped writing already. I think the only reason I ever did was because, if I stopped, it’d feel like the end. You would be gone forever and there’d be no recourse. Even our patron could not change the past; I know they would if it were possible. This is my goodbye. As I’m sure you’ve noticed by this point in the letter, I’m enclosing my last shipment of oshadhi, hand-picked and stained with my unique calor. There will be no more liqueur-life grown in our home, not unless Miska takes up the art. This is to say, I am going West. I think I shall look for a new start in some place small. Small enough that, unless I were hunted to the end of Coriolis, I could never be found. I am not sure where I will go yet, but I am certain that I’ll know the place once I fall upon it. Julian made mention of moving westward, too, perhaps to the northern side of the Americas, and perhaps I shall join him temporarily. Goodbye, Solomon. I fear what has happened to you ever since you passed through the Threshold, but I am finally reckoning with the fact that I will never know. Burn this letter once you are done with it. Lelie

[wrenqreed]

Hiya! Been wondering, there's been mentions of some kind of social systems for vampires and lycanthropes, as well as the passing mention of a vampire marrying to a human; will we ever see further development and focus on how these settings are? Exploring dynamics between different lycanthrope packs or vampire communes? Gatherings of fauns perhaps?

Hi! Yes, I plan to elaborate on the social systems of various Housefolk overtime, though I don't think Intermenides as a series will primarily focus on these aspects. I plan to write in this setting for quite a while and Intermenides is intended as essentially the introduction. In the future, I want to write more stories, focused around different Housefolk, larger occult society and generally other characters. (I already have one other story planned, though it'll be for once Intermenides is finished.)

[wrenqreed]

CORIOLIS BONUS 1

MINISTRY OF EYES ONLY 03/22/2011 NATURAL LAW SECRET CASE OVERSEER WOJCIECH B. ALDEN DOMESTIC POLITICAL MATTERS - FAIRBURNS; FOREIGN POLITICAL MATTERS - MOSCOW TRIBUTARY On 03/18/2011, Agent ██████ reclaimed the following overseas correspondence during a brief counter-intelligence operation after being contacted by a confidential ████████ source within ███ ██████ █████████. The letter was then connected to JULY M. LAWSON, NALINI C. FAIRBURN and █████ █ ██████. Agent ██████ and Agent █████████ placed █████ █ ██████ into custody at 0453, 03/20/2011. ARTIFACT 0X-28 "Restless Still Air" was not recovered on scene. No further evidence of its existence has been recovered. Evidence enclosed.

Dear July, I hope this letter finds you well. I know my stay in Europe has been unprecedented, especially so soon after our contrivance, and I apologize for my part in the rising tension. I was not aware of certain goings-on within your past, and to my knowledge, I have been rightly persecuted. This letter is not without purpose. I plan to make up for my mistakes in the coming time. I have caught wind of a certain film I know you will find deplorably interesting. I know you and Nalini have been, to my knowledge, looking for any stricken knowledge about ███ █████, and I am certain I have caught wind of such material. I am to attend an auction in the coming hours, at the time of writing this — it is far too early in the morning to be holding a pen — where I will lay claim to a certain film. I had a chance to glimpse it in person once before, and it instilled in me an awful quietude. I felt both cold and warm, my blood like worms wriggling under my flesh. I know that I may appear as a despot to you, especially since you are so new to the estate and have never had a chance to meet my love, but I hope this is the first step to changing your perception of me. I will be returning to Moscow by daylight, and I hope to buy the first ticket home. Please give my regards to the Costeau twins and the elder Fairburns. With love, your leper This document should be returned to the Department of Records. CLASSIFIED BY PYOTR M. TOLK REASON NC-2 DECLASSIFY ON INDEFINITE MINISTRY OF EYES ONLY 03/22/2011 NATURAL LAW SECRET

[wrenqreed]

Disco Elysium x Sinners Mashup!

I just finished making a mashup of Barns Courtney's Sinners and Disco Elysium audio. It's on YouTube, and I'd love if you checked it out.

[wrenqreed]

Hey there, folks! I don't really post much as I don't have much to post about, but this one is important to me.

My closest friend has been writing over the past few months. And personally, I find it to be extremely good. It's verbose and detailed even for the few chapters few currently out, but it's enthralling and grips you so quickly. Their characters have such great interactions with each other, their world feels mysterious and somewhat unknown, their ideas and universal mechanics are just downright exhilirating!!

So what exactly is it? We'll, let's get into that!

Welcome to:

Intermenides

Intermenides is an urban fantasy web novel focused around the story of August, Nadir, and Lawry trying to navigate a world beyond the veil of typical human understanding, one full of mystical beings and gods beyond comprehension, and the intersecting pair Silas and Rayne as they track down supernatural (henceforth referred to as Housefolk) dangers underneath the orders of the shadowy and questionable Ministry of Natural Law. A couple sources of inspiration include Paradox's World of Darkness and Weather Factory's Secret Histories games, but ultimately it was spawned from a writing prompt and grew into something larger due to passion and love of writing.

August Hall and Nadir Ruiz are on the run after a shapeshifter of some type took on Nadir's guise and attempted to kill him. Nadir, not knowing who else to go to, ran to August for help and resulted in her awakening to her latent spellcasting abilities and status as a witch. The mimic has not given up its search though, it continues to track and attack the pair seemingly regardless of where they go, for reasons they do not understand as of yet. The duo stumbled into Lawry, a disabled spellblade and former authority figure amongst the world of the Housefolk, and have been staying on the road with her in order to find a solution to their mimic issue; supposedly within a strange and magical book titled Intermenides XIV.

July Lawson, AKA Lawry, is a hard to read, closed off individual. She is often obfuscating information, if not outright lying about topics she believes the duo is not ready to be exposed to. She was once a noteworthy and recognized figure amongst the Housefolk, and a spellblade of borderline legendary status, yet somehow all traces of knowledge on her vanished years ago. Lawry has a strange demeanor to her; she seems distant and cold at times, sometimes even fearful of what might occur around her. Something appears to have scarred her both emotionally and magically, causing her to be unable to control spells without injuring herself and unable to find comfort in people. August and Nadir intend to try and help her heal.

Silas Everett is an overly professional and strict detective within the Ministry of Natural Law, at least on the surface. His jobs are often dangerous, his quarries often violent, and his handling must shift to match. But beneath that he has a genuine care for the Housefolk and merely wishes to keep their world from spiraling. He is known as a Ministry lap dog, doing anything and everything he is told without question, however that couldn't be further from the truth. He is aware that something within the Ministry isn't right, something has rotten it to the very core, and it's up to him and those he puts his trust in to figure out what. And who knows, maybe the Ministry isn't the only thing that isn't quite what it seems...

Rayne Harper! My gods, how I love Rayne. Rayne is a bubbly, sweet, and mildly mischievous lycanthrope under the handling of Silas after being taken in by the Ministry for crimes she had no part in. A little bit of a tease, she is one of the few that Silas lets his guard down around, she knows how he actually operates and relishes every moment away from the eyes of the Ministry. Rayne is one of the many Housefolk who are unjustly oppressed by the Ministry, being forced onto medication that suppress her abilities to shift forms and read emotions. She may be a nobody to the world at large, but her work at Silas' side will prove revolutionary.

I know that was a lot! I know I'm also not great at pitching things but I am earnestly trying my best and I promise that it's written exponentially better than my blurbs about it. I just love what Wren's doing with it, and I want them to continue because I can see how much it matters to them. They're trying to get a chapter out every week to two weeks. Mind you the chapters are quite long. So please, if it seems at all interesting to you, even the slightest bit, please go give it a try. It'd mean the world to both of us.

Thank you for reading!!