Rikanik 3 "Now the only sure way to get rid of that mouse," the first guard hadn't stopped talking, "is to squish it. Now, believe me, I wouldn't love nothin' more than squashin' that wan'ed man. But don't worry, that won't happen. You know why? Eh? 'Cause I like ya. Thas right! Yer that wan'ed guy! Don' worry though. Ya see, I think yer a great person even though yer wan'ed an' all. I mean the son of the king's murderer! You don' meet them every day. Do ya, Rikanik? It is Rikanik, right? You don' meet them every day, no, no. This is cause for celebration! Les' play a game, ta celebrate. It's called Beat Down, made the name up mesself. I think the name takes care o' the rules. Wanna play?" Rikanik rose from his creaky stool and faced the one talking to him, his back to the other, "We should go outside." The guard's eyes flicked over his shoulder, "Why?" The wanderer spun, listening to the sword whistl
Rikanik 2 "Yessir," the man behind the counter caught the mug his customer threw to him. He bent under the prickly wood and came back out with a new mug full of beer, "I ain' nevah seen a man tha' could 'old 'is drink like you, stranger. Got tah be somethin' big that needs drownin', eh? You wanna tell me 'bout it? Mos' like you do." The stranger's mouth tightened. He grabbed back the mug, "Your job is to pour. Not talk." "Sorry, mistah. Din mean tah pry. But if I know troubles, I know what can solve 'em." The tender caught the attention of a barely dressed woman by hitting her with an empty mug, "You! Git over here!" The waitress glared back, then noticed the stranger at the bar. She ruffled her greasy hair and pulled her breasts out of her rags a bit more before sliding over to her newest customer. She lightly rubbed against his back, "Hi there." "Not interested."
Rikanik 1 Trees and grass no longer existed within the village, nor in three hundred sixty-three paces from its edge. Flowers grew in pots filled with dirt in houses made of dirt. Dusty paths weaved through and around the dirt homes as if trying their best to avoid contact with the frail walls. During morning and midday the paths were full of people, each thinking their task was more important than the person's in front of them. Hardly anyone fought. If they did the men in shiny metal would take care of whatever problem started the fight. No one wanted that. To even get dirt on the polished silver would result in a beating. The last commoner to hit a man in metal still hung from a long rope dangling over a tree branch outside the village. Sometimes the wind would carry his stench through the dirt houses to remind the children. The paths always emptied just before sunset. Wives went home, finished with their daily shopping for the few fresh foods un
Baen of Magic Chapter 7 Baen lowered her horns as she charged, eager to open a hole in the traitor queen's gut. She mounted the steps within a calf's breath. She was fast but Sylvanas was faster. The Forsaken Queen used her bow to deflect the warrior's horns and slightly change the path of the charge. Baen growled as her head twisted away but felt the undead lose her balance. With a start she realized that while Sylvanas had speed, Baen had strength. And now the Banshee Queen was too close to dodge. Spinning mid-charge, Baen swung her sword at her target. With a clang she hit something much harder than flesh. Her hooves dug into the wooden floor, kicking up sawdust as she forced herself to a halt. Standing between her and Sylvanas was Thrall. His legendary Doomhammer held Baen's sword inches away from the Banshee Queen's neck. "It would appear," the Warchief snarled, "that my hospitality still excees your own, Baen
Enhanced - Full Pitch My name is Coryn. I'm an Enhanced. Years ago, someone went into my brain to make me better than human. They took natural abilities I had, such as being sensitive to the feelings of those around me, and magnified them. Now I feel what anyone around me feels, even trees and inorganics. I'm a Receiver. I live with my sister Cheryl, a Copier, and our friend Guy, a Lifter. We're all Mind - Enhanced. Not everyone can be Enhanced. Most people can't take their brains being messed with. Whoever made us also made the Wretched. Brainless and completely mad, they can tear apart an entire building with their bare hands. I've seen them do it to a human. The Western governments evacuated their continents but some Normals stayed behind. Sometimes they hang bodies of Enhanced from their walls as a warning. We survive well enough until we meet a small boy. This boy is more Enhanced than anyone I've ever met. He says They're still ex