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The Bookwyrm's Archive - thedarkwyrm - 11-15-2014
Most of my characters already have things written about them, so as the whim strikes me, I may go get some of it and post it here. I may also write new things and post them here. I'm just making this so it's here.
The Bookwyrm's Archive - thedarkwyrm - 11-15-2014
This is the beginning of the novel I started writing about Lezvie. Not much of the serious plot happens, but it's nice and tasty character development. I will split my posts into chapters.
<div style="text-align:center;]<font size="3]Prologue[/font][/align]
The horizon stretched out before him, desolate and bleak. An ashen grey terrain, broken only by the burnt shells of buildings and black burn marks, devoid even of life, even birds and insects.
In other words, all was as it usually was. Lezvie surveyed the landscape as he walked, alert for any movement. The setting sun behind him made shadows that played tricks on the eyes, but after two years of it, he had learned to differentiate between an odd shadow and a shadowy figure.
Just before twilight, he reached the ruins of a large town, and made for the least damaged building to shelter in for the night. Avoiding the front door, he instead climbed in through a window on one side, dropping silently into the dark room and listening for any sign of life. He heard nothing, and so advanced into the building, looking for a room with only one door.
There was only one, and he missed it the first time because he had mistaken the closet door for a door into another room on first glance. He walked in and turned on his electric lantern briefly, scanning the room. An old heavy desk, a pile of rags, some broken furniture, the remains of a fire… Nothing to indicate a current resident. He was about to check the closet when he noticed that the pile of rags was moving very faintly.
He carefully set down the lantern and approached it, drawing his knives. Just before he was about to call out to whatever was in it, a feminine voice stopped him.
“Take one more step and you’re dead. I’ve got a gun.”
He stopped. “I mean you know harm.”
“Bull. You’re a man. And men only want one thing from a woman these days.” She sat up, coming out of the rags, and Lezvie could see the sleek black device she had pointed at him.
Lezvie put his knives back into his sheathes, then raised his hands in surrender. “Even if that were true, I didn’t know there was anyone here, much less a woman, until you threatened me. I merely seek shelter for the night.”
The sun must have set while they were speaking, for the temperature began to drop rapidly. The young woman scowled at him. “Why should I believe you?”
He unfastened his knife harness, dropped it, and kicked it to her. “I am now unarmed. Even if my intentions were hostile, I now have no way of carrying them out.”
She still seemed uncertain, though her hand wavered. “You’re just here for shelter?”
“Just for shelter.” He shivered. “And if you aren’t going to kill me, I’d appreciate it if you let me set up camp. It’s getting cold.”
Her hand fell to her side. “All right…”
Lezvie relaxed and picked up his knives, refastening his harness. “Just a note,” he said, unpacking his equipment for the camp, “threatening works better with a weapon than a flashlight.”
“Flashlight?” She held it up again, pointed it at the wall, and pushed the button. A beam of light came out, illuminating the room. She blushed crimson, then looked puzzled. “If you knew it was a flashlight, why did you act like I was really threatening you?”
Lezvie chuckled as he turned on his portable heater. “Because there was nothing to be gained from making you feel defenseless, since I’m not here to hurt you.”
She pondered that as he finished setting out his bedroll and rations, then watched him as he ate.
He caught her look. “You hungry?”
Her nod was very hesitant, but the sight of food motivated her. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.”
“Here.” He pulled out a can of soup, set it on the heater for a few moments, then handed it to her with a spoon.
She quickly opened it and dug in, eating quickly.
Lezvie chuckled. “Do you have a name?”
“Angela,” she said between bites, scarcely slowing. “Do you?”
“Lezvie.”
She finished the can and set it aside. After a moment of silence she asked, “Where are you headed?”
“Wherever the road, such as it is, takes me.”
She nodded, and there was another long pause. “Can… Can I come with you?”
Lezvie laughed. “One minute you’re threatening to kill me, the next asking to join me?”
Angela blushed. “Well, it’s just… I obviously am not as protected as I thought, and you seem to be different than most guys…”
He smiled. “Sure, you can join me.”
She smiled back, still blushing faintly. “Thank you.”
Angela knew, somehow, that she could trust him.
What she didn’t know was that joining up with Lezvie would take her on the adventure of her life…
The Bookwyrm's Archive - thedarkwyrm - 11-15-2014
<div style="text-align:center;]<font size="3]Chapter 1: The Vault and the Talon [/font][/align]
The rope unraveled as it dropped into the darkness below. It struck the ground with a thud, less than half uncoiled. Lezvie slid down it, landing catlike on the uneven floor. After kicking aside a few of the loose chunks of concrete, he looked back up at the opening in the ceiling, beckoning to the figure framed in it.
Angela followed him down, her landing almost as graceful as his. “It’s dark down here.”
“Of course it’s dark. These vaults were built for security, not ventilation.” He headed into the vault, his soft-soled shoes making no noise on the concrete floor. Angela followed, trying to mimic his silence. Her lack of practice kept her from being entirely successful.
When the veil of darkness became too thick for easy navigation, Lezvie pulled up the night vision goggles he wore around his neck, motioning for Angela to do the same. With the goggles in place, they continued through the dim passages. Every few yards, another cave-in or collapsed wall forced them to take a different path through the vault.
After about fifteen minutes, Lezvie stopped them. “See that light up ahead?”
The corridor did look less dark, though Angela wouldn’t have called it light. “Yes.”
“See the way it flickers? It’s a fire.”
“Who could it be?”
“It could be almost anyone. It’s most likely raiders or bandits. Anyone else would be more likely to use a steady light source.”
Angela shivered. “What should we do?”
“I’ll handle them.” He started towards the light, but Angela caught his arm.
“Hey. I may not be as skilled as you, but that doesn’t make me a helpless female that needs to stay in the shadows while you ‘handle’ things.”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “All right. Just keep quiet.”
They crept forward, and Angela kept a hand on Lezvie’s shoulder. He stopped them just before they turned the corner into the light. “Listen,” he whispered to her.
She leaned against him, listening to the bandits talk.
“So what’s the bosses’ plan, again?”
“You’ve got to be the dumbest person I’ve ever worked with. We meet up with the others. We hit the community. We kidnap everyone. We sell the men as workers and the women as toys.”
Angela felt Lezvie’s muscles tighten as he hissed under his breath, “Slavers.”
“Let’s stop them.”
Lezvie nodded and took a step forward, but then froze as the slavers started talking again.
“Which community was it?”
“New Phoenix.”
Angela froze as Lezvie rounded the corner, his knives flashing as they slaughtered bandits. Their cries of alarm and fear and pain barely registered as she processed the name of their targeted community. After he cleaned his knives on the last of them and sheathed them, Lezvie walked back to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Are you all right, Angela?”
“New Phoenix… I stayed there for a while. There was a girl there, and we became good friends…” She looked up at him, tears in her eyes, but with her face firm. “We have to save her.”
“No.” His response was gentle but firm. “I can take on one group, but the entire Crimson Talon? No.”
“Crimson Talon…?”
“He referred to a ‘boss’. That means it’s organized. There’s only one organized slaver organization. The Crimson Talon. I can’t take them on, not all of them.”
“Lezvie, please. I have to save her.”
“I can’t do it, Angela. I want to save her, I want to save all of them. But it can’t be done.”
“I’ll go alone if I have to. I managed fine before I met you, I can manage fine now.” Though she scowled at him, he could tell that she trembled very slightly, clearly having grown accustomed to the security that Lezvie offered.
“Could you even get out of the vault without me?”
She looked away, flushing. “I’d have to try.”
“Then try. If you insist on taking on the Crimson Talon, you’re doing it alone.” He slipped into the shadows without a sound, leaving her in the silent darkness.
“L… Lezvie…?”
Her only answer was her echo.
She trembled with fear, but her fear gave way to anger. “Fine, then! Leave me! You’re just as bad as every other rotten, arrogant male on this planet! I’ll save her on my own!”
“You’re that determined.” His voice came softly from behind her.
With a faint squeak, she whirled and stared at him with wide eyes, but she quickly mastered herself and scowled at him. “If all I accomplish is that I die with her, so be it.”
“You’re a female. They wouldn’t kill you.”
She shivered, knowing the truth of that. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Then I’ll come with you.”
“Really…?”
He nodded. “I just needed to make sure you wouldn’t balk at the challenge of doing it alone.”
She smiled tremulously. “Thank you. And you’re not rotten.” Her smile grew into a smirk. “Though you are arrogant.”
“I can accept that.” He grinned. “C’mon, let’s go find your friend.”
They left the vault, all thoughts of the potential treasures of the vault left behind as well.
<div style="text-align:center;]<font size="3]--*-- [/font][/align]
The smell of New Phoenix reached them long before they saw it. The scents of fire and decay swept over them, carried on a cloud of noxious smoke.
“No…” Angela ran up to the edge of the cliff, staring down at the city.
It was destroyed. Most of the buildings had been gutted and burned, and the few that remained were surrounded by the tents of the slavers. Even at this distance, the crackling of the fires and the wailing of the survivors could be heard.
“We’re too late…” She fell to her knees, sobbing. “Tabitha… I couldn’t save her…”
Lezvie stepped up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. “She may yet be alive. The slavers only hit a few hours ago. If you wanted to save any of the men, I’d say we had arrived too late, but there’s a good chance your friend Tabitha is still alive.”
“Then we can still save her?” Angela looked up at him, grabbing his hand for reassurance.
“It’s possible. I’ll do a little recon and see what I can find out. Describe Tabitha to me.”
“She’s… about my height. With black hair, and green eyes. Very pretty.” She squeezed his hand. “Please find her.”
He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “I don’t know what I’ll find. But if she’s alive, I’ll save her.” He slipped away and began climbing down the face of the cliff.
As Lezvie climbed, he reflected on how insane this was. He knew he didn’t stand a chance if he were caught. The Crimson Talon was all fighters, unlike some gangs that let riff-raff in. There were enough of them that even his skills and alien blades couldn’t save him.
“So why am I doing this?” He reached the bottom of the cliff and looked towards the city, automatically plotting routes in and out. “Because you’re crazy, that’s why.”
There were no guards. Of course. You’d have to be stupid or insane to attack the Crimson Talon. Lezvie chuckled to himself as he slipped from building to ruined building, getting closer to the heart of the city. Finally he reached a building that did have guards. Two slavers, leaning against the outside, smoking cigarettes - Lezvie briefly wondered where they had managed to get those - and talking about the various slave girls.
They weren’t really on the lookout for anything, so it was simple enough to get on the far side of the building and slip in through one of the broken windows. The building was what he had expected it to be. A chattel house. The room he was in had mats in one corner, and three young girls were huddled together, sleeping fitfully. He could see welts and bruises through their tattered clothing.
All three of them were blonde, and, much as he wanted to save them all, rescuing even one was a huge risk. Two would be impossible. He crept silently through the first floor of the house, glancing at the girls. Blonde. Blonde. Brunette. Redhead. Brunette. Blonde.
He finally did find a room, the second to last on the first floor, that had three girls with black hair. As he entered the room, he allowed a floorboard to creak, and clicked on a dim flashlight. The three girls were startled awake, and whirled to face him. Blue eyes, blue eyes, and hazel eyes.
The girl with hazel eyes stepped forward hesitantly, squinting into the light. “You’re… not one of them. You’re not dressed like them. But you’re not one of us, either.”
“Right on both counts. I’m looking for Tabitha. Do you know where she is?”
The girl hesitated. “Why?”
“A friend of hers sent me here. If possible, I’m to rescue her.”
“Just her?”
Lezvie could see the tears in her eyes. “I’m mad going up against the Crimson Talon as it is. It would only get me and whoever I tried to rescue killed if I took more than one person.”
She nodded slowly. “Tabitha’s on the second floor. Reserved for the boss and his favorites.”
“Thank you.” Lezvie clicked off the light and slipped away, creeping up the stairs like a wraith. The second floor had a large central room with smaller rooms all around it. A large man, presumably the boss, sat on a large chair, watching a slave girl dance.
Skilled as he was, not even Lezvie could move through a brightly lit room crowded with trained fighters without being detected. He went back downstairs and outside, then climbed the rough brick wall up to the second floor. Finding an open window was easy, for the night was warm, and the air conditioning probably hadn’t worked even before the Glassing.
He pulled himself into one of the rooms and found that it had two occupants: a young woman, and the man abusing her.
There was no thought, only action. Lezvie didn’t even appear to move, but the man sprouted two knives from his back, piercing both lungs. He couldn’t scream. He collapsed, dead before he hit the ground. The girl looked at Lezvie in terror, pulling the threadbare sheet over herself.
Lezvie hadn’t been looking at her body, anyway; his focus had been her eyes. Eyes of piercing green, that looked out from under her long black bangs.
He smiled slightly. “It’s all right, Tabitha. I’ve come to rescue you.”
The Bookwyrm's Archive - thedarkwyrm - 11-15-2014
<div style="text-align:center;]<b style="font-size:medium;]Chapter 2: The Rescue and the Flight [/b][/align]
Tabitha stared at him, her gaze steady despite the fact that she shook. “How do you know my name? Who are you?”
Lezvie pulled his knives out of the slaver’s back, cleaning them on the man’s shirt. “My name is Lezvie. Angela sent me.”
“Angela? She’s still alive?” She watched him, eyeing the knives.
“Very much so. She’s waiting outside of town while I get you out.”
“Have you and her…?” Tabitha made a suggestive gesture, watching his expression.
“No.” He shook his head. “Our companionship is purely one of company and convenience. Strength in numbers and all that.”
“Yet you’ll brave the Crimson Talon at her request.” Tabitha arched an eyebrow at him.
Lezvie had to admire her spunk. Not two minutes ago she’d been at the mercy of a brutal slaver, yet she could make pointed remarks and cunning observations. “I can see why Angela likes you. Come on, someone will probably check on this lout eventually.”
She flushed. “Could you give me a minute?”
“Right.” Lezvie slipped out the window and sat on the ledge, looking out at the wasteland as Tabitha put her clothes back on. She tapped him on the shoulder and he turned back towards her. “Ready?
“Ready. How are we going to do this?”
He hopped off the windowsill and grabbed onto the bricks of the wall. “Wrap your arms around my neck and hold on.”
She obeyed, climbing onto his back and holding onto him as he climbed down. On the ground, he chuckled faintly. “It might be easiest if you just stayed there and let me carry you out. Even with the extra weight, I can move more quietly than the two of us individually.”
“All right…” She tightened her grip on him, settling into position as he began sneaking from house to house. Just on the outskirts of the town, a sudden cry from the slaver’s camp made him whirl. They had been seen.
With a mild oath, Lezvie set Tabitha down. “Run to the cliff and climb. I left marks on the path I took. Angela’s at the top. I’ll slow them down.”
“But you’ll die!”
“Only if you stay here, distracting me. Go!”
She scrambled towards the cliff, climbing up it. Lezvie turned towards the slavers who charged him, drawing his longsword. “All right, you buggers. Let’s dance.”
He charged them, meeting them amongst the fires and the dead, his sword reflecting the angry orange lights. Set against the brutish swings of the slavers, he was a ghost. Surrounded, outnumbered twenty to one, he remained untouchable. They fell under his sword, gaping wounds appearing on them.
One of them, draped in the garb of a chieftain, charged him with a pair of katanas. He was no mere thug. His opening feint nearly fooled Lezvie; the follow-up strike nearly cost him the fight.
Lezvie, however, had other advantages than his skill. The slaver chieftain swung, a powerful overhand swing, and Lezvie blocked it. His sword, made of alien alloy, shattered the chieftain’s blades, leaving the slaver exposed. Lezvie spilled his guts over the hard ground.
However, skilled as was, he was not invincible; the slavers had firearms. A bullet grazed his arm, then his leg. He backed out of the fight, moving towards the cliff. As soon as he was free, he turned and ran, zig-zagging, trying to avoid the bullets. He didn’t entirely succeed.
A lucky shot hit him in the back, punching clean through him. He bit back a cry of pain and scaled the cliff, becoming invisible against the brush and rock. The slavers kept up their fire for a few more seconds, but soon gave up.
Lezvie dragged himself over the top of the cliff, weak from blood loss and pain. Angela and Tabitha awaited him, and they pulled him up onto a bedroll they had prepared. He managed a weak grin. “Mission accomplished. Crimson Talon wasn’t so bad after all.”
<div style="text-align:center;]<font size="3]--*--[/font][/align]
The trio managed to get into the shelter of a nearby cave just before night fell. Lezvie, despite his initial bravado, slipped into delirium as the pain and blood loss overtook him. It was a long night, with Angela and Tabitha trying to keep him cool and comfortable.
In the morning, he had regained consciousness, but still only had a fraction of his strength. “We need… to go to the Bunker.”
“The Bunker?” Tabitha looked at Angela. “What’s that?”
“I dunno…” She looked down at Lezvie. “Nearly two months we’ve been together and you’ve never mentioned it. Where is it? How can it help?”
“There are more people there… Good people… I’ve never told you… because I don’t like being in one place…”
“It’s a refuge? And you thought if you took me there I’d want to stay.” Angela grinned, brushing a lock of dirty blonde hair out of her eyes. “You don’t know me all that well. Which way to the bunker?”
He pushed his sleeve up on his arm, exposing his wristwatch. The press of one of the buttons switched the display to a compass, with a blue arrow pointing off into the distance. “Twenty six degrees northwest, about thirty miles from here.”
Angela nodded, then paused, eyeing him. “Can you walk at all? Because I don’t think Tabitha and I can carry you.”
Lezvie nodded. “Help me up?”
Tabitha and Angela got on either side of him, and he got to his feet, swaying, leaning on the two girls. “Lucky… That we… travel light…” He panted from the exertion of talking and standing at the same time, the wound in his chest sending sharp pains through him with every breath.
“Shut up and walk,” Angela said, supporting him as best she could. The three of them began to make their way across the wasteland, towards the Bunker.
They couldn’t keep moving for long. After only half an hour, Lezvie collapsed, cold sweat on his brow.
“Lezvie!” Angela grabbed him tighter, cushioning his fall. “Lezvie, are you all right?”
He groaned, clutching his wound. “Can’t… Go on…”
“We have to! We have to get you to the Bunker!”
“Back… pocket… of my cloak…”
Angela looked for the pocket, and, finding it, pulled out a small silver cube.
“Take it… and go…” He coughed a few times, blood flecking his lips. “If you get… within ten miles… squeeze it… and they’ll come…”
“And they can come get you then?”
He nodded. “Go. Fly, little bird…”
His pet name for her made a tear run down Angela’s cheek as she considered the possibility that Lezvie might die. She looked over at Tabitha, squeezing the other girl’s hand. “Take care of him.” At Tabitha’s nod, Angela took off, glancing at her compass now and again to make sure she stayed on the right heading.
She ran like the wind, making every effort to live up to Lezvie’s nickname for her. Her side cramped painfully, and her breath burned painfully in her lungs, but she didn’t dare stop. Every second that ticked by was another second that could mean Lezvie’s death.
Just when she thought she had reached the limits of her stamina, the cube started buzzing. She fell to her knees, the air sucking into her lungs painfully. “Oh, I hope that means I’m in range…” She squeezed the cube with all her might.
Long moments passed. Nothing happened. Tears stung her eyes as she contemplated having to get up and keep running. She slowly dragged herself to her feet, looking in the direction of the Bunker. A small black speck, moving across the sky, drew her attention.
“Not a bird… Too big… Too steady…”
As she kept watching it, it grew larger, and she could hear a faint whirring sound. “A helicopter?”
The large aircraft drew closer, something like a cross between a helicopter and an airplane, with a large rotor on top of each wing. It set down near her, and two men in patchwork survivalist armor disembarked, jogging towards her.
“Who are you?” the larger one demanded, taking the cube from her, “and how did you get Lezvie’s emergency beacon?”
“He sent me… He’s been hurt. Shot. That way.” She tried to fight her fatigue, gesturing in the direction she had come from. “He needs you to get him.”
“Lezvie’s been shot?” The man grabbed her arm and rushed her back to the aircraft. “C’mon, we’ll get him.”
She let him drag her, too tired to resist him, even had she wanted to. When they got on board, she pointed them in the direction of Lezvie and Tabitha. The two-hour run took less than ten minutes in the aircraft.
“There he is!” Angela pointed out the tree she had left Lezvie under. The pilot set down close to him, and then the pilot and his partner and Angela rushed out. The men picked up Lezvie and carried him to the aircraft, and Angela pulled Tabitha along with them.
“How is he?” Angela asked the other girl as they took off again, squeezing her hand.
“He passed out about twenty minutes ago, but he was still coherent then.” Tabitha collapsed into a seat, shaking. “I thought you wouldn’t make it for a while, there…”
Angela hugged her tightly, taking comfort in comforting her. “They can save him. He wouldn’t have had us go to them if they couldn’t pull it off.”
Tabitha nodded. They flew in silence, holding each other for comfort, while the smaller of the two men examined Lezvie’s wound. The pilot flew the aircraft in through a hole in the top of the mountain, landing it on a concealed platform inside.
As soon as the door opened, a man and a woman with a stretcher whisked Lezvie inside and away. Angela and Tabitha tried to follow, but the pilot stopped them, directing them to a small room with three chairs and a table. Once they were seated, he sat across from them.
“My name’s Jack. I lead the Remnant.” He leaned forward, his eyes dangerous. “Now who are you? I get no word from Lezvie for nearly four months, and all of a sudden you show up with his beacon, and tell me he’s been shot. There’s a rather interesting story in there somewhere, and I will hear it now.”
The Bookwyrm's Archive - thedarkwyrm - 11-15-2014
<div style="text-align:center;]<b style="font-size:10pt;]<font size="3]Chapter 3: The Remnants and the Fang [/font][/b][/align]
Angela was able to summarize the story of her time with Lezvie in under an hour, with much of that time spent repeating herself when Jack expressed disbelief. When she found herself repeating Lezvie’s decision to help her rescue Tabitha for the third time, her temper finally got the better of her.
“Look, I’ve told you everything, can I please go see him now?”
“It still doesn’t make sense to me. You haven’t given him anything,” Jack gave her a once-over, as though that were inconceivable, “so why would he risk his life for you?”
“Because he’s a better man than you!” Angela got to her feet and tried to go out the door.
Jack sprang to his feet, grabbing her arm. “Hold on, you can’t-”
Then Angela punched him in the face. He stumbled back in surprise, releasing her arm. She rushed out the door, ignoring Jack’s cries for her to stop.
“Whoa, there!” A strong pair of arms caught her, whirling her off balance and knocking her against the wall. “You can’t go running off. Jack’s orders.”
Angela glared at the redheaded woman holding her in place. “Let me go to Lezvie!”
“You can’t go to him, he’s not strong enough for-”
“Not strong enough for visitors?”
Both women turned and stared at Lezvie, who stood in a doorway, leaning heavily on it. His shirtless torso revealed a bloodstained bandage wrapped around his chest. “I think Angela’s anger is more dangerous to me than a little early exercise, Ruth.”
Angela shook off Ruth’s grip and rushed to Lezvie, throwing her arms around him. “Oh, you’re all right, thank God you’re all right!”
He grunted as she squeezed him. “Easy, Angela. It’s still fresh.”
“Sorry…” She eased off, but didn’t let go, leaning her head against his chest. “I was so scared, Lezvie…”
“I know, little bird.” He wrapped his arms around her, gently stroking her hair. “I’m all right. We’ll all be all right now.”
Jack came out of the interrogation room, muttering and rubbing his jaw. “Your girl packs a heck of a right hook, Lezvie.”
Lezvie grinned. “I wouldn’t know, Jack. What were you trying to pull that she hit you?”
“Trying to keep her away from you,” he replied, chuckling.
“That would do it.” Lezvie ruffled Angela’s hair. “She seems to like me for some reason.”
Angela blushed faintly and let go of him. “Oh, I don’t know, I think I’m entitled to like the guy who’s saved my life, and that of my best friend.”
“Yes, I suppose you are.”
Tabitha had followed Jack out of the room by this time, and looked at Lezvie. “I never thanked you properly for saving me. Especially since you almost died to do it.”
He smiled. “It’s just a scratch. I’ll be fine before long.”
A man in a lab coat came through another door, blinking through his thick spectacles. “New people. And Lezvie’s back. Busy day, hm?”
Lezvie chuckled. “I think introductions are in order. Remnants, this is Angela, my traveling companion for the past several months, and Tabitha, her best friend, whom I rescued from the Crimson Talon. Angela, Tabitha, these are the Remnants. You’ve met Jack. He’s the leader, and pilot, whenever they need to fly.
“The redhead is Ruth. She’s the Remnants’ engineer and cook, the combination of which explains why her whiskey tastes the way it does.”
This got a laugh from all the Remnants, including Ruth.
“The good doctor over here is Neil. He’s… well, the doctor, obviously. And the one who is not here is Rodrigo, chief of security. He was on the ship with Jack when we got picked up.”
Angela nodded. She remembered him.
And as though his mention summoned him, Rodrigo came running into the room, skidding to a stop, out of breath. “We’ve got company. Not sure who it is, but they’ve got vehicles.”
“And that means they’re dangerous.” Lezvie pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on. “Come, we best prepare.”
Angela followed him as he moved through the halls of the bunker. “Lezvie, you’re hurt! You can’t fight!”
“I have to fight, Angela. I’m here, I’m fighting.” He opened the door to the infirmary and picked up his harness, slipping it on.
“You stupid, stubborn man…” Angela watched him, seeing how even the small movements of dressing brought him pain. “Let me.” She walked around behind him and helped him fasten the straps of his harness and affix his knives.
He held still, letting her help. “Thank you.”
She fastened the last strap, grumbling. “I can’t believe I’m helping you go fight.”
“I think you just can’t resist touching me,” Lezvie said with a cheeky grin.
Angela smacked his arm. “Honestly, you’re impossible.” She watched him as he walked down the hallway, still keeping one hand on the wall for balance. “Completely impossible. Going to get himself killed.” She pulled the pistol from her belt and followed him.
If Lezvie insisted on protecting the Bunker, she’d be right there as well, protecting him.
<div style="text-align:center;]<font size="3]--*--[/font][/align]
Jack and Rodrigo were already in the entrance hall when they arrived. Rodrigo had a minigun strapped on him, the large barrel currently folded up beside the ammunition box on his back as he checked a computer on a wall. “They’re coming. Four Humvees, complete with fifty-cal turrets.”
“Any markings?” Jack checked the safety on his rifle.
“Yes, but not one I’m familiar with. Look.”
Lezvie followed Jack over to the screen, looking at the insignia on the side of the approaching vehicles. “It almost looks like Crimson Talon,” Lezvie said, “it isn’t, as you can see. There are four markings here, where the Talon only has three. But it’s almost like they’re from the same family…”
The vehicles stopped about a hundred feet from the outer doors, and men in combat armor poured out, forming a semi-circle around it. Two of them set up a heavy cannon in front of the door, aiming it dead center at it.
A man whose armor bore more color than the others stepped up to the door. His voice was distorted by the helmet he wore, making him sound robotic. Alien. “You harbor fugitives. You will surrender them to the Crimson Fang immediately.”
Lezvie turned to Jack. “You ever hear of a ‘Crimson Fang’?”
“Rumors.” Jack shrugged. “A more organized, better equipped branch of the Crimson Talon.”
“While we’re swapping rumors,” Rodrigo interjected, “I heard that they’re both arms of a parent organization, Crimson Dragon. Hence the names. There’s also, supposedly, a Crimson Wing and Crimson Eye.”
“Unimaginative lot.” Lezvie fingered his knives. “But well-equipped, undeniably well-equipped.”
The men outside grew impatient. “We grow tired of your disobedience. Give us the fugitives or we will blow the door in. You have thirty seconds.”
“Fugitives. That would be the girls and I, yes?” Lezvie chuckled. “Well, Jack? You gonna throw us to the dragon?”
Rodrigo pulled down the barrel of his minigun and gave the barrel an experimental spin. “C’mon, Lez. You should know better than that.”
“Good then. Should we let them shoot first? Give ourselves the moral high ground?”
Jack grinned. “Always.”
“You have chosen to defy the Crimson Fang. On your own heads be it. The Crimson Fang shall destroy your feeble installation and kill all of you.” The man stepped back behind the semicircle of soldiers, gesturing to the men behind the cannon.
The first shot splashed harmlessly against the powerful doors of the Bunker. So did the second. And the third. Right after the fourth, Jack gestured to Rodrigo, and the security officer flipped a switch in the wall, causing the massive door to slide open.
Jack threw a grenade as the door opened. By the time the massive gates had stopped moving, the grenade latched on magnetically to the cannon. It exploded violently, tearing the cannon apart and sending shrapnel into the Crimson Fang soldiers nearest it.
Rodrigo and Jack followed the grenade with a volley of lead. Jack’s rifle sounded rhythmically, each shot bringing down one of the soldiers manning the guns of the Humvees. Rodrigo’s tactics were simpler; spray and pray. The Crimson Fang soldiers went down like flies.
Despite the heavy losses they were taking, the red-armored soldiers came charging forward, those that had guns firing them, those with melee weapons trying to close the distance as fast as possible. While outgunned, their numbers allowed them to endure the brutal damage the Remnants’ guns inflicted while still getting closer to the Bunker.
Lezvie stepped forward, drawing his knives. He still looked agile, but Angela could tell that every movement pained him, and his usual grace came with much more effort than usual. She stepped up beside him and kept the invaders from reaching him, putting each one down with a single shot to the head.
Even her sharpshooting could only slow the tide, and Lezvie had to fight. His dance of death flowed as smoothly as it always did, and the soldiers’ blood stained the ground at his feet. Eventually the ranks of the Crimson Fang were depleted, and the few survivors piled back into their trucks and fled.
“We can’t let them escape.” Jack’s voice sounded tired.
Rodrigo nodded and stepped back across the threshold, tapping a command into the console. The barrel of a large gun extended out of the mountain above the bunker door. It fired, one shot for every truck. Every shot hit its mark. Every truck became a pile of scorched metal.
“That’s the problem with this wasteland. You can’t trust anyone. If you get in a fight, you have to wipe them out, or they’ll come back with friends and wipe you out.” Jack set his rifle down and closed the doors.
Lezvie cleaned his daggers and sheathed them. “Yeah. Terrible.”
Then he collapsed.
“Lezvie!” Angela rushed to him, catching him before his head hit the ground. “Stupid, stupid man…”
She stripped off his bandage, which had been soaked to the point of uselessness. His wound had been reopened during the fight, and now his blood ran down his chest. “Stupid, stubborn, stupid man…” She turned to Jack and Rodrigo. “Help me get him back to the medical bay.”
They carried him in, laying him in one of the beds. Angela shooed the men out of the ward and began taking care of Lezvie’s wound.
“Stubborn, thick-headed, arrogant, prideful, stupid…” She finished binding his wound and rested a hand on his cheek.
“Stupid, amazing man…” With a sigh, she sank into the chair beside his bed, resting her head on his chest, her blonde hair tumbling across his pale skin, suddenly exhausted.
The Bookwyrm's Archive - thedarkwyrm - 11-15-2014
<div style="text-align:center;]<b style="font-size:10pt;]<font size="3]Chapter 4: Lezvie’s Tale[/font][/b][/align]
Angela awoke to a gentle touch on her hair. Her eyes fluttered open, and she found herself looking into Lezvie’s eyes, only inches from hers.
She jumped back, heat rising in her cheeks. “How’re you feeling?”
“I’ve been better.” He grinned. “I’ve been worse, too.”
“Good. Good.” She let her hair fall in her face to hide her blush. “I’ll just, uh… Go get some breakfast.”
Angela slipped out and ducked around a corner, leaning against a wall and letting out a long, shaky breath. “Why does he keep doing that to me?”
Footsteps drew her attention, and she looked down the hall to see Ruth, carrying a tray. “He’s awake, I take it?”
“Yeah, he is. Listen, Ruth…”
The redhead paused. “Yes?”
“Who is Lezvie? I mean, where did he come from? What’s his goal?”
Ruth chuckled. “That is such a long story, and I don’t even know all of it. He doesn’t talk much about his past.”
“What about his present? What can you tell me about him?” Angela chuckled, half to herself. “I’ve traveled with him for months, but he’s almost as much a mystery as when I first met him.”
“As with all of us.” Ruth chuckled as well. “He’s a good man, though, so none of us pry too deeply.”
“That makes sense, I suppose.” Angela nodded. She followed Ruth back into Lezvie’s room, where he lay in his bed.
“I see you two have met. Been swapping stories?”
Angela took the tray from Ruth and set it on Lezvie’s beside table. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
He grinned. “You keep telling me that.”
Ruth quietly withdrew, leaving Angela and Lezvie alone.
As he ate, Angela sat quietly, thinking. When he finished, she asked, “Lezvie… Will you tell me about yourself? Where you came from?”
Lezvie looked at her, setting his tray aside. “What brought this on?”
“No one knows anything about you.” She shrugged. “I just want to know.”
“All right.” He shifted on the bed, patting it. “It’s a long story, so you should sit down.”
She sat down on the bed, then leaned back, laying against him.
He put an arm around her, and then he began to spin his tale.
“I was born in California. My hair was white even then.” He twirled a lock of his hair between his fingers. “As you can imagine, it set me apart from the other kids. I tried to emulate characters in Japanese anime; they were the only people I knew that had white hair.
“I studied martial arts of several kinds, including weaponized. That’s why I can do what I do with my blades. It also somewhat isolated me, so I studied. The only real company I had was my family and a few people I had met online that stopped by from time to time.”
Angela looked up at him. “Tell me about your family.”
“There were five of us: my father, my mother, my big sister Katie, my little brother Matt, and myself. My dad was a mechanic, and Matt was following in his footsteps. Literally. He’d stick to my dad like a shadow whenever he worked on a car. Mom was a mythology teacher. Japanese mythology. That’s another reason I got so into the way of the ninja and things like that.
“And Katie…” He smiled fondly, remembering. “Katie was the all-around perfect one. Principal’s honor roll, captain of the women’s volleyball team, black belt in martial arts, the works. It’s mostly thanks to her that I succeeded as well as I did.”
He chuckled faintly. “I won so many awards in martial arts and academic achievements, that between me and Katie, they covered every wall of my house. None of that matters anymore, of course…
“When the invasion came, I was hand-picked by the United Resistance to be part of a crack team to resist the aliens. I got my knives on our first mission. After that, we were much more capable of resisting them. Only the aliens’ own weapons could penetrate their armor.”
He let out a heavy sigh. “And then came the operation that destroyed our world. We carried out a strike on one of the alien ground bases. It was the first time we managed to fully destroy one of their bases. And it provoked them.
“They decided Earth wasn’t worth the cost they were paying for it. But neither could they just give up. We’d eventually develop space flight and become a threat. So they Glassed the planet.” His head fell back on the pillow, and a tear ran down his cheek. “We caused the Glassing. We killed seven billion people, and reduced the few millions that remained to savages.”
Angela wiped the tear away, resting her head on his chest. “It wasn’t your fault, Lezvie. You only did what you had to. The aliens killed those people. If you hadn’t fought them, they would have just taken over.”
He exhaled slowly. “My family survived the invasion, and the glassing. But not a month after the glassing, they were attacked by raiders. My father and brother were the lucky ones. They died quickly.”
She rested her head on his chest, putting her arms around him. “I’m sorry.”
Lezvie rested one hand on the back of her head. “That’s why I fight so hard against the raiders. As though I can make up for losing my family by making sure no one else loses theirs.”
“So that’s why I felt like I could trust you, back when we first met. I could feel that conviction.”
“You’re the first person I’ve ever told.” He grinned faintly. “Feel special.”
“I do. Believe me, I do.”
The Bookwyrm's Archive - thedarkwyrm - 11-26-2014
This is a little blurb about my modern vampire setting, specifically my main character, Gabriel Jinx.
<div style="text-align:center;]<font size="4]The Modern Vampire[/font][/align]
The blinds were drawn on Number 17, Nightshade Lane. Then again, the blinds were always drawn, not just on Number 17, but on every home on Nightshade Lane. It was the largest vampire community in the Los Angeles area. Advances in technology had created lotions and creams that allowed them to walk in the sunlight, but it was still an unpleasant experience.
Number 17, while not unusual for having its blinds drawn, had the distinction of housing one of the richest, most successful vampires in the world. Gabriel Jinx; poet, playwright, novelist, stock broker, inventor. Over forty published works and three ground-breaking patents, and all of the money he made from those multiplied exponentially in the stock market. Forbes estimated his net worth at well over a trillion dollars.
On this day, unlike most, a sleek black car pulled out of the garage. It looked more like an armored military vehicle than a civilian car, and the back windows were so tinted as to appear completely opaque. The driver, an attractive young woman with deep red hair, steered the car down the almost-empty street, heading for one of the major corporate districts.
She pulled it into the parking garage that adjoined the headquarters of the Lestat Corporation, the largest collection of vampires in business in the entire world. “We’re here, Mr. Jinx.”
Gabriel stepped out of the car, pulling his black cloak closer against the intruding rays of the sun. Though the garage was mostly enclosed, a few slits in the walls did allow sunlight in, a compromise between the vampire owners and the human staff. He strode quickly to the elevator, his driver following close behind him.
He pressed the button for his intended floor, then stood silently as the elevator ascended. When it halted and began to move laterally, he reflected on the outdated name ‘elevator’. Strictly speaking, it did more than elevate, as the sideways motion proved. Still, no one had come up with a better name that stuck, so they remained elevators.
It halted its lateral motion and resumed going upwards. They had crossed from the parking garage and into the corporate building, and were now approaching their final destination. The doors slid open and Gabriel stepped out with his driver.
A vampire in a business suit greeted them. “Mr. Jinx, I presume?”
“Presumption is a dangerous habit, but in this case you are correct. I am Gabriel Jinx.”
Properly chastened, the younger vampire escorted the two newcomers into a conference room. “Mr. Frost will be with you shortly.”
Gabriel sat at the head of the conference table, his red-headed companion sitting on his right. He tapped the table, letting one side of his mouth come up in a half-smile. Solid teak. Anthony Frost had done well for himself.
As though thinking the elder vampire’s name were enough to summon him, Frost entered the conference room. “Ah, Gabriel. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”
“Not at all.” Gabriel rose to his feet, nodding to the older vampire. “You said it was urgent.”
“Yes, quite urgent.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. “We’ve had another sighting of an infected vampire.”
Gabriel frowned, taking the paper and scanning it. “That makes three this month alone, doesn’t it?”
Anthony Frost rubbed his forehead. “Yes, and you can imagine that the anti-vampire groups are having a field day. This one was spotted near Nightshade Lane. Recognize him?”
“I believe so…” Gabriel pocketed the paper. “I’ll look into it. If it’s not who I think it is, I can probably still find him.”
“Good.” Frost clapped his hands together. “Then we’re done here. Unless you need any more equipment?”
“I have enough. Thank you, Anthony.”
“You’re the one who’s doing me a favor.” They both rose, and Gabriel left with his driver.
On the way back to Number 17, said driver, Kate, glanced at her employer in the rear-view mirror. “Mr. Jinx?”
“Hm?” He looked up at her, surprised. She usually stayed silent. “Yes, Kate?”
“What exactly is the infection? I’ve heard it mentioned, but no one seems clear on the details.”
Gabriel chuckled. “That would make sense, sense all the vampires in the upper echelons of society are taking great pains to keep it hidden.”
Kate blinked. “They are?”
“Yes. The anti-vampire groups would go crazy if they knew the full extent of the infection.”
“And… what is the full extent?”
“They have the numbers about right, though on the low side. The real deception lies in how severe the infection is. The media believes it is only an enhanced aggression and hunger, but it’s much worse. It’s more like the vampiric version of rabies.”
“Rabies?” Kate’s eyes widened.
“Yes. Vampires grow more savage and feral the longer we go without feeding. Those who are infected become unable to repress that. Feeding does not curb their savagery. After about three weeks, they lose their…” he chuckled, “humanity.”
The irony of using that word was not lost on Kate. “I… see. So they become monsters?”
“Yes. And the rest of us hunt them down and destroy them. There is no cure.”
“So you’re going to seek down and destroy this one?”
“That is the plan.” Gabriel looked out the window. “Go to number 24.”
Kate nodded and obeyed. When they arrived, Gabriel got out, pulling up the hood of his cloak to shield him from the sun. He rapped on the door of number 24. After several minutes and a few more knocks, he whirled and kicked the door in, shattering it at the knob.
As he strode inside, stepping over the splintered wood, he noticed a thick layer of dust over everything. The vampire he was after hadn’t been here for weeks. Or, more likely, he had been here, but had not been himself.
The very faintest of sounds behind him prompted him to whirl, whipping a sword out of a hidden sheath and blocking the wild swing of the savage vampire. It had picked up a crowbar somewhere, and it was now stuck firmly against Gabriel’s sword, held there by the fact that the sword had cut more than halfway through it.
With a snarl, the infected threw away the weapon, throwing Gabriel’s sword with it. He launched himself at his hunter, fangs bared and talons grasping. Gabriel dashed to the side, kicking hard at the rogue. It growled in pain, grabbing at Gabriel’s ankle, but the hunter used the grip on his foot to spin around and kick his prey in the side of the head.
When it fell, dazed, Gabriel stomped hard on its chest. “Kate! The black case in the back seat. Bring me what’s inside.”
Kate dashed inside, clutching a compact, yet bulky, rifle. Gabriel took it from her with a graceful twirl, pointing it at the prone vampire. One pull of the trigger and the infected thing on the floor became a pile of ash.
Gabriel handed the gun back to Kate. “That was faster than I expected. Let’s go home.” His eyes flicked to her neck. “It’s nearly dinner time.”
The Bookwyrm's Archive - thedarkwyrm - 11-26-2014
This is actually a thing I'm just writing right now, as opposed to the copy-pastes, because I had an idea for someone for the pub in Akvero, but he needs backstory. So backstory!
<div style="text-align:center;]<u style="font-size:medium;font-weight:bold;]Son of the Bull[/u]
<div style="text-align:left;]<font size="2]It was obvious to anyone who looked at him that Terross wasn't pure human. For that matter, it was obvious that he wasn't pure anything. And in a world were racial purity was, generally, an important thing to most races, Terross, had a hard time of it. Three or four generations ago, his great-great-(great?)-grandmother had had relations with a minotaur. The details were fuzzy, both because such things were unseemly and because of how long ago it had happened. That she had survived was something of a minor miracle. That she had carried his child to term and successfully birthed it, still surviving, had only been possible with the aid of healing magic applied during the pregnancy and the labor.
The children had always been male, for some strange minotaur-bloodline-related reason, and each had, somehow, managed to find a human woman willing to look past the taboo of it. The fact that all the men in question were hung like a minotaur might have had something to do with that.
By the time the bloodline had been diluted down to Terross, its effects were minor. He had horns, just a few inches long, sweeping up from his forehead, surprisingly majestic for such small things, imitating the grand sweeps of a full minotaur. He had keen senses, the natural cunning of his ancestor, and the endowment all the men in his family were blessed with. He was large for a human in other ways, too, standing almost seven feet when he stood erect, and his musculature was intimidating. Or it would have been, if he didn't conceal himself behind loose clothing and generally try to appear non-threatening.
Minotaurs were not generally given to higher thought and education, and the men between Terross and his ancestor had been much the same. Terross, though, had been trying to break from tradition, seeking an education in the magical arts. He had been encouraged by his mother, an enchantress herself, and had managed his way through various magical academies. The female students (and sometimes the teachers) were more than willing to help him out, and the fact that his shy nature had him stammering like a fool whenever they got too close only seemed to make them come after him more. It was also the reason why he had to keep moving from school to school.
This year, though, he finally finished his education, officially becoming a member of one of the magic guilds, specifically a magitech guild. He was much better at using magic to power little inventions than he was at using it on its own, and he made a small business for himself selling magical gizmos, some purely cosmetic, such as clockwork birds, and some that served a practical use, such as his wrist-attached, temperature-controlling, voice-controlled stirrer. It could stir a drink or a soup on command, and heat or cool it to the perfect temperature. It was a popular little device.
It was difficult for him, though, to make any sort of meaningful relationship with anyone. Not only was he the strange descendant of a minotaur, but the people who would have been okay with that were usually the type who would have wanted him for brute strength, the 'big dumb' of their little band. As such, Terross acquired a mask from his mother, a rather unique one that, when worn, faded into near-invisibility, so his face could be seen, but took his horns with it. It was clear he was masked, but he looked like an ordinary human. Thus equipped, Terross went to the Winter Festival in Akvero, hoping to enjoy himself unreservedly, for once.
Of course, things never go quite according to plan...[/font][/align][/align]