The First Chapter of My Fantasy Novel (Take 2)

[TheSurvivorofDeath]

So I posted a thread like this one a couple months ago, and in that time I’ve reworked that story and rewritten some of it. So this is the first chapter of the second version of my novel 

Spoiler

Chapter 1

Dem Torinson, Chief High Constable of Horandel’s Middle District, returned to the city to find everything incredibly normal. Horandel sprawled out in the valley that was its home, straining at its confines as it built ever upward, skyscrapers and office buildings in the rich areas beginning to dominate the city skyline. Dem rode through the streets of the Lower District, passing dirty and malnourished people on the ground. He felt for them, knowing that the city did nothing to help them. He tossed a few coins to some beggars on the street, but there was nothing more he could do for them. Dem was an enforcer, not a politician. He hated politics anyway.

As Dem continued to ride, and the tightly packed shambles of the Lower District slums began to transform into cleaner, more spaced out buildings. Among these, roughly in the center of the Middle District, Dem’s Constabulary station was a solid building, made mostly of grey marble and concrete, the crossed swords emblem above the entryway matching the one on Dem’s left breast. Inside, constables moved about, drinking coffee and exchanging reports and charts. Dem made his way through the building, a few men stopping to bring their right fist to their left breast in a salute. He reached his office, where he was greeted by his aide, a young constable named Gerin. 

“How have things been since I left, Gerin?” Dem asked the youth.

“Pretty normal, sir. Even a bit boring,” Gerin replied.

“Boring is good. Boring means nobody is dying,” Dem told the young man.

“Of course, sir.”

“I assume I have a substantial pile of paperwork waiting for me.”

“Yes, sir,” the boy said. “A few dozen requisitions and the like from other stations, by my count. You’re in for a long day.”

“I always am, Gerin. I always am.” 

At that moment, the building began to shake. A powerful explosion sounded from the direction of the High District. Dem looked around as constables began to spring into action. Well trained, this lot, he thought as he too began to move.

“I can’t get one day of peace in this city,” he said, more to himself than anyone around him.

As he exited the station and looked up towards the High District, he saw a thick plume of smoke twisting into the air. He turned around and jumped back onto Triumph, spurring him on to a swift pace.

His pace was soon slowed by the flow of people against his course. The streets were packed with fleeing civilians, some of them bearing ash stains on their fashionable clothing. These were people from the higher parts of the city, fleeing the explosion. Dem maneuvered himself as quickly and as carefully as he could, trying to discern how bad the damage might be from some of the passerby.

When Dem finally reached Republic Square, the highest and most important point in all of Horandel, he found the Grand Court a burning pile of broken timbers and fractured stonework. The fire brigade had taken care of most of the fires, but some still smoldered. Rescuers now worked to extract the people trapped under the rubble. Leaving the questioning of witnesses to other constables who had begun to trickle into the square, Dem dismounted and headed towards the wreckage.

“Do you know what happened here?” Dem asked one rescuer as he helped lift a large piece of wood off of a man in a fine suit.

“No idea. I just came to help when I heard the explosion,” the man replied as he helped the survivor to his feet.

Already, Dem could see a few bodies being covered with sheets in the Square below. Some of the people they found hadn’t survived. 

Dem kept working through the rubble, discovering quite a few people buried under chunks of stone or wood.

What could have caused this? Dem thought. Nothing explosive was stored in the Grand Court, so it couldn’t have been accidental. Somebody had to have caused the explosion intentionally.

Dem set the body of an unfortunate blonde woman with the other bodies they had recovered. He turned around to continue searching the rubble, reaching to lift a piece of former ceiling that he thought might have people trapped underneath it. Just as he had the piece of rubble lifted, finding nothing beneath, a rasping voice rose over the Square. Dem turned, looking up, to find a figure hovering above the Square, his features obscured by darkness.

I look forward to hearing your thoughts. 

[Weaver of Shadows he/him]

35 minutes ago, TheSurvivorofDeath said:

So I posted a thread like this one a couple months ago, and in that time I’ve reworked that story and rewritten some of it. So this is the first chapter of the second version of my novel 

  Hide contents

Chapter 1

Dem Torinson, Chief High Constable of Horandel’s Middle District, returned to the city to find everything incredibly normal. Horandel sprawled out in the valley that was its home, straining at its confines as it built ever upward, skyscrapers and office buildings in the rich areas beginning to dominate the city skyline. Dem rode through the streets of the Lower District, passing dirty and malnourished people on the ground. He felt for them, knowing that the city did nothing to help them. He tossed a few coins to some beggars on the street, but there was nothing more he could do for them. Dem was an enforcer, not a politician. He hated politics anyway.

As Dem continued to ride, and the tightly packed shambles of the Lower District slums began to transform into cleaner, more spaced out buildings. Among these, roughly in the center of the Middle District, Dem’s Constabulary station was a solid building, made mostly of grey marble and concrete, the crossed swords emblem above the entryway matching the one on Dem’s left breast. Inside, constables moved about, drinking coffee and exchanging reports and charts. Dem made his way through the building, a few men stopping to bring their right fist to their left breast in a salute. He reached his office, where he was greeted by his aide, a young constable named Gerin. 

“How have things been since I left, Gerin?” Dem asked the youth.

“Pretty normal, sir. Even a bit boring,” Gerin replied.

“Boring is good. Boring means nobody is dying,” Dem told the young man.

“Of course, sir.”

“I assume I have a substantial pile of paperwork waiting for me.”

“Yes, sir,” the boy said. “A few dozen requisitions and the like from other stations, by my count. You’re in for a long day.”

“I always am, Gerin. I always am.” 

At that moment, the building began to shake. A powerful explosion sounded from the direction of the High District. Dem looked around as constables began to spring into action. Well trained, this lot, he thought as he too began to move.

“I can’t get one day of peace in this city,” he said, more to himself than anyone around him.

As he exited the station and looked up towards the High District, he saw a thick plume of smoke twisting into the air. He turned around and jumped back onto Triumph, spurring him on to a swift pace.

His pace was soon slowed by the flow of people against his course. The streets were packed with fleeing civilians, some of them bearing ash stains on their fashionable clothing. These were people from the higher parts of the city, fleeing the explosion. Dem maneuvered himself as quickly and as carefully as he could, trying to discern how bad the damage might be from some of the passerby.

When Dem finally reached Republic Square, the highest and most important point in all of Horandel, he found the Grand Court a burning pile of broken timbers and fractured stonework. The fire brigade had taken care of most of the fires, but some still smoldered. Rescuers now worked to extract the people trapped under the rubble. Leaving the questioning of witnesses to other constables who had begun to trickle into the square, Dem dismounted and headed towards the wreckage.

“Do you know what happened here?” Dem asked one rescuer as he helped lift a large piece of wood off of a man in a fine suit.

“No idea. I just came to help when I heard the explosion,” the man replied as he helped the survivor to his feet.

Already, Dem could see a few bodies being covered with sheets in the Square below. Some of the people they found hadn’t survived. 

Dem kept working through the rubble, discovering quite a few people buried under chunks of stone or wood.

What could have caused this? Dem thought. Nothing explosive was stored in the Grand Court, so it couldn’t have been accidental. Somebody had to have caused the explosion intentionally.

Dem set the body of an unfortunate blonde woman with the other bodies they had recovered. He turned around to continue searching the rubble, reaching to lift a piece of former ceiling that he thought might have people trapped underneath it. Just as he had the piece of rubble lifted, finding nothing beneath, a rasping voice rose over the Square. Dem turned, looking up, to find a figure hovering above the Square, his features obscured by darkness.

I look forward to hearing your thoughts. 

And I look forward to seeing more of this! I want to know what happens! It’s a good start, I’m my estimation.

[TheSurvivorofDeath]

Thank you! How about I post one chapter every day? I have about twenty. Keeps me accountable to write more. It occurs to me that I should have started with the prologue though.  

[Weaver of Shadows he/him]

7 minutes ago, TheSurvivorofDeath said:

Thank you! How about I post one chapter every day? I have about twenty. Keeps me accountable to write more. It occurs to me that I should have started with the prologue though.  

That would be impressive if you could keep that up, and I’d read them. Accountability helps.

[TheSurvivorofDeath]

I’ve got the chapters outlined all I need is the motivation to get them done. One a night is doable. Let me post the prologue so it’s all here. 
 

Spoiler

Prologue

Dem opened his eyes atop the wind-scoured hill. The stone beneath him was a solid reminder that he was back in his world. Awareness remained at the back of his mind, a knowledge of powers he held. He stood, smoothing his dark blue uniform, the wind tugging on his cloak. His steel bracers were a comfortable weight, cold against his skin. He breathed in deeply, feeling the wind all around him. The glorious, powerful force of nature. A power that was his to tame.

Dem pulled the winds around him, sculpting them, controlling them. He lifted himself high into the air, soaring far above the rocky hill below. He was weightless for a moment at the peak of his ascent. Then, as he began to fall back to the ground below, he tapped steel. Brilliant warmth flooded his body, bringing him to life. The strength that steel gave him was a fire in his veins as he plummeted towards the stones below.

He exalted in it all for a moment. The tugging sensation in the pit of his stomach made him forget that he had ever feared heights. It was addicting, being so free from everything, even gravity. Then, he pulled the winds around him again, slowing himself as he brought a steel-strengthened fist, cushioned by air, down on the rocky hilltop. Stone cracked as the raw fury of the winds flooded into fissures made by his punch, splitting the rock asunder. 

Dem raced down the hill, rocks and scraggly trees ignored as he rode the winds down at astonishing speed. As he moved, he thought about his powers. He had been born a Ferromancer, one who could use the powers of metal. Dem, a Strongarm, could draw upon the power of steel to give himself incredible strength. But he had also become something more. He was connected to the Spirit of Wind, a primal force of nature. He could draw power from that force, using it to manipulate the winds. Each time he meditated, the Spirit granted him knowledge of how to use that power in all of its intricacy. This time, Dem had learned how to be more potent and forceful with his powers while still maintaining control. 

This hilltop was where Dem had first met the Wind and formed the connection. He didn’t need to go there to meditate, but he tried to return as often as he could. He exalted in the freedom of the place, away from restrictions and duty. Though he loved his city and his people, and had nothing against his duties, he enjoyed a little peace every now and then. As he reached the bottom of the hill, however, he was ready to return to the bustling community and sprawling city that was his home. He mounted his horse, Triumph, cloak whipping out behind him as he swung up into the saddle. With a flick of the reins he was off, moving at a trot along the winding and rugged path back to the grand city of Horandel.

I’ll post chapter 2 tomorrow when I get home from school.

[Weaver of Shadows he/him]

4 minutes ago, TheSurvivorofDeath said:

I’ve got the chapters outlined all I need is the motivation to get them done. One a night is doable. Let me post the prologue so it’s all here. 
 

  Hide contents

Prologue

Dem opened his eyes atop the wind-scoured hill. The stone beneath him was a solid reminder that he was back in his world. Awareness remained at the back of his mind, a knowledge of powers he held. He stood, smoothing his dark blue uniform, the wind tugging on his cloak. His steel bracers were a comfortable weight, cold against his skin. He breathed in deeply, feeling the wind all around him. The glorious, powerful force of nature. A power that was his to tame.

Dem pulled the winds around him, sculpting them, controlling them. He lifted himself high into the air, soaring far above the rocky hill below. He was weightless for a moment at the peak of his ascent. Then, as he began to fall back to the ground below, he tapped steel. Brilliant warmth flooded his body, bringing him to life. The strength that steel gave him was a fire in his veins as he plummeted towards the stones below.

He exalted in it all for a moment. The tugging sensation in the pit of his stomach made him forget that he had ever feared heights. It was addicting, being so free from everything, even gravity. Then, he pulled the winds around him again, slowing himself as he brought a steel-strengthened fist, cushioned by air, down on the rocky hilltop. Stone cracked as the raw fury of the winds flooded into fissures made by his punch, splitting the rock asunder. 

Dem raced down the hill, rocks and scraggly trees ignored as he rode the winds down at astonishing speed. As he moved, he thought about his powers. He had been born a Ferromancer, one who could use the powers of metal. Dem, a Strongarm, could draw upon the power of steel to give himself incredible strength. But he had also become something more. He was connected to the Spirit of Wind, a primal force of nature. He could draw power from that force, using it to manipulate the winds. Each time he meditated, the Spirit granted him knowledge of how to use that power in all of its intricacy. This time, Dem had learned how to be more potent and forceful with his powers while still maintaining control. 

This hilltop was where Dem had first met the Wind and formed the connection. He didn’t need to go there to meditate, but he tried to return as often as he could. He exalted in the freedom of the place, away from restrictions and duty. Though he loved his city and his people, and had nothing against his duties, he enjoyed a little peace every now and then. As he reached the bottom of the hill, however, he was ready to return to the bustling community and sprawling city that was his home. He mounted his horse, Triumph, cloak whipping out behind him as he swung up into the saddle. With a flick of the reins he was off, moving at a trot along the winding and rugged path back to the grand city of Horandel.

I’ll post chapter 2 tomorrow when I get home from school.

Interesting! I’m excited to learn more of the magic system.

[TheSurvivorofDeath]

Here we go with chapter 2

Spoiler

Chapter 2

Coar just wanted to relax on his day off. He had woken up late, made himself some coffee and lit a fire against the winter chill, and sat down to read the newspaper. But, of course, something had to blow up on his day off. 

A large explosion shook his house, sending the windwarblers on the windowsill scattering. Ironhide, his stonehound, perked his head up with a growl. Coar sighed, tapping iron as he got up. The metal let his old body keep going despite the pain in his joints and muscles. He went to the window, looking out to see smoke trailing into the sky.

“Nexu’s Threads,” Coar cursed, employing the name of his old God. “Can’t I get one day to myself? No? Fine.”

He grabbed his blue cloak off the hook by the door, throwing it over his shoulder as he slid his feet into his tough leather boots. He opened the door and stepped out into the streets of Horandel, where a good dozen passerby had stopped to look at the smoke rising into the sky. Coar began to walk towards the sight of the explosion at a gentle pace. When the first ash-covered civilians passed him by, however, he tapped iron a little harder as he began to run. 

He arrived at Republic Square a short time later, finding that half the city had beat him there. A few hundred reporters, constables, and rescue workers packed the Square. Coar could see several sheets covering what he assumed to be bodies, and he caught a glimpse of Dem sifting through the rubble of a destroyed Grand Court. Just as he began to push through the crowds to speak to his friend, a voice called out above the Square. 

“People of Horandel,” the voice said as Coar’s eyes found the speaker. A man was floating about a hundred feet above the Square, standing on a disc of pure blackness. The man himself was difficult to make out, as he was shrouded in shadows, but his words were easy to hear.

“I am Rex Malorum, the King of Nightmares and Keeper of Terrors. I have come to offer you a choice. This destruction is regrettable, but I feel it is the only way for you to see that I am serious. I hope that the deaths here today will be the last I have to cause for you people. Now, your choice. Bow to me, relinquish your city and your republic to my control. Or, die by my hand. You have fifty days to decide,” the hidden figure declared in a voice that was just a bit too unnatural, like nails on a chalkboard. 

The people in the Square, most of them just now registering what this Rex was saying, gasped collectively. Many of them seemed genuinely afraid. Others just seemed confused. Rex began to rise higher into the air, seeming satisfied that his ultimatum had been communicated. Before he could leave, however, Coar heard another voice call out in challenge. Heads turned towards this new, commandingly powerful voice. The voice of Dem Torinson.

 

[Weaver of Shadows he/him]

50 minutes ago, TheSurvivorofDeath said:

Here we go with chapter 2

  Hide contents

Chapter 2

Coar just wanted to relax on his day off. He had woken up late, made himself some coffee and lit a fire against the winter chill, and sat down to read the newspaper. But, of course, something had to blow up on his day off. 

A large explosion shook his house, sending the windwarblers on the windowsill scattering. Ironhide, his stonehound, perked his head up with a growl. Coar sighed, tapping iron as he got up. The metal let his old body keep going despite the pain in his joints and muscles. He went to the window, looking out to see smoke trailing into the sky.

“Nexu’s Threads,” Coar cursed, employing the name of his old God. “Can’t I get one day to myself? No? Fine.”

He grabbed his blue cloak off the hook by the door, throwing it over his shoulder as he slid his feet into his tough leather boots. He opened the door and stepped out into the streets of Horandel, where a good dozen passerby had stopped to look at the smoke rising into the sky. Coar began to walk towards the sight of the explosion at a gentle pace. When the first ash-covered civilians passed him by, however, he tapped iron a little harder as he began to run. 

He arrived at Republic Square a short time later, finding that half the city had beat him there. A few hundred reporters, constables, and rescue workers packed the Square. Coar could see several sheets covering what he assumed to be bodies, and he caught a glimpse of Dem sifting through the rubble of a destroyed Grand Court. Just as he began to push through the crowds to speak to his friend, a voice called out above the Square. 

“People of Horandel,” the voice said as Coar’s eyes found the speaker. A man was floating about a hundred feet above the Square, standing on a disc of pure blackness. The man himself was difficult to make out, as he was shrouded in shadows, but his words were easy to hear.

“I am Rex Malorum, the King of Nightmares and Keeper of Terrors. I have come to offer you a choice. This destruction is regrettable, but I feel it is the only way for you to see that I am serious. I hope that the deaths here today will be the last I have to cause for you people. Now, your choice. Bow to me, relinquish your city and your republic to my control. Or, die by my hand. You have fifty days to decide,” the hidden figure declared in a voice that was just a bit too unnatural, like nails on a chalkboard. 

The people in the Square, most of them just now registering what this Rex was saying, gasped collectively. Many of them seemed genuinely afraid. Others just seemed confused. Rex began to rise higher into the air, seeming satisfied that his ultimatum had been communicated. Before he could leave, however, Coar heard another voice call out in challenge. Heads turned towards this new, commandingly powerful voice. The voice of Dem Torinson.

 

Good! Would you like a suggestion? It may be something you’ve already thought of.

[RoyalBeeMage he/him]

54 minutes ago, TheSurvivorofDeath said:

Here we go with chapter 2

  Hide contents

Chapter 2

Coar just wanted to relax on his day off. He had woken up late, made himself some coffee and lit a fire against the winter chill, and sat down to read the newspaper. But, of course, something had to blow up on his day off. 

A large explosion shook his house, sending the windwarblers on the windowsill scattering. Ironhide, his stonehound, perked his head up with a growl. Coar sighed, tapping iron as he got up. The metal let his old body keep going despite the pain in his joints and muscles. He went to the window, looking out to see smoke trailing into the sky.

“Nexu’s Threads,” Coar cursed, employing the name of his old God. “Can’t I get one day to myself? No? Fine.”

He grabbed his blue cloak off the hook by the door, throwing it over his shoulder as he slid his feet into his tough leather boots. He opened the door and stepped out into the streets of Horandel, where a good dozen passerby had stopped to look at the smoke rising into the sky. Coar began to walk towards the sight of the explosion at a gentle pace. When the first ash-covered civilians passed him by, however, he tapped iron a little harder as he began to run. 

He arrived at Republic Square a short time later, finding that half the city had beat him there. A few hundred reporters, constables, and rescue workers packed the Square. Coar could see several sheets covering what he assumed to be bodies, and he caught a glimpse of Dem sifting through the rubble of a destroyed Grand Court. Just as he began to push through the crowds to speak to his friend, a voice called out above the Square. 

“People of Horandel,” the voice said as Coar’s eyes found the speaker. A man was floating about a hundred feet above the Square, standing on a disc of pure blackness. The man himself was difficult to make out, as he was shrouded in shadows, but his words were easy to hear.

“I am Rex Malorum, the King of Nightmares and Keeper of Terrors. I have come to offer you a choice. This destruction is regrettable, but I feel it is the only way for you to see that I am serious. I hope that the deaths here today will be the last I have to cause for you people. Now, your choice. Bow to me, relinquish your city and your republic to my control. Or, die by my hand. You have fifty days to decide,” the hidden figure declared in a voice that was just a bit too unnatural, like nails on a chalkboard. 

The people in the Square, most of them just now registering what this Rex was saying, gasped collectively. Many of them seemed genuinely afraid. Others just seemed confused. Rex began to rise higher into the air, seeming satisfied that his ultimatum had been communicated. Before he could leave, however, Coar heard another voice call out in challenge. Heads turned towards this new, commandingly powerful voice. The voice of Dem Torinson.

 

ooh thats good! cant wait to see what you do next

[TheSurvivorofDeath]

8 minutes ago, Weaver of Lights said:

Good! Would you like a suggestion? It may be something you’ve already thought of.

Of course! Any suggestions are welcome.

[Weaver of Shadows he/him]

Just now, TheSurvivorofDeath said:

Of course! Any suggestions are welcome.

I’m just seeing a very large correlation between words used in mistborn and this, ferromancer sounds like a blend of feruchemist and allomancer, and tapping a metal is the same wording as with feruchemy.

[TheSurvivorofDeath]

6 minutes ago, Weaver of Lights said:

I’m just seeing a very large correlation between words used in mistborn and this, ferromancer sounds like a blend of feruchemist and allomancer, and tapping a metal is the same wording as with feruchemy.

Yes I am aware of this. Ferromancy is called such because I kind of suck at naming magic systems and I just wanted something to mean metal magic. Tapping is something that could be changed, it’s just the first thing I thought of when writing and it fits the magic. Any suggestions to change it?

[RoyalBeeMage he/him]

could alloying work as a turm?

[Weaver of Shadows he/him]

1 minute ago, TheSurvivorofDeath said:

Yes I am aware of this. Ferromancy is called such because I kind of suck at naming magic systems and I just wanted something to mean metal magic. Tapping is something that could be changed, it’s just the first thing I thought of when writing and it fits the magic. Any suggestions to change it?

I assumed it might be placer names, I’ll try to think of some other names.

[TheSurvivorofDeath]

Here’s Chapter 3

Spoiler

Chapter 3

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Dem shouted at the strange man. Rex, he’d said his name was.

Rex turned his head to look at Dem, his flight halted. 

“You come to my city, you kill my people, and you think you can just leave?” Dem yelled upward as he drew Devastation, his pistol.

“You are far beneath me, constable. Do not challenge your better,” Rex replied, his tone arrogant and dismissive.

“You will leave this city and you will not come back,” Dem called, defiance in his voice. “We will not bow to you.”

“Oh please,” Rex said, an edge of anger coming into his voice. “Your city is nothing but a colony of ants to be crushed beneath my boot. Stop this foolish defiance, and I will let you live.”

Rex’s shadowy platform began to drift closer to the ground as Dem looked up at him, his eyes hard and unyielding.

“We. Will. Not. Bow,” Dem said, his voice solid but full of raw anger. This man had come to his home. He had killed innocent people and caused chaos and destruction. And he had the audacity to think they would surrender to him?

“You insolent vermin!” Rex shouted, zipping towards Dem on his disk of shadows, a wicked-looking blade, made of pure ebony blackness, materializing in his hand. “Why must you defy me? Why must you refuse my offer? I tried to be pleasant, but you wouldn’t let me. Now you will die.”

Dem raised Devastation, the titanium barrel glinting in the afternoon sunlight as he sighted on Rex. He breathed deeply, then squeezed the trigger as he exhaled, moving calmly, keeping the gun steady despite the danger moving swiftly towards him. The crack of the gunshot echoed off of the buildings nearby, ringing in Dem’s ears as the silvery titanium bullet streaked through the air toward Rex.

The bullet took Rex in the right forearm. Though the bullet went straight through the flesh, there was a brief instant that it was in his body. In that instant, his shadowy blade vanished and the shadows masking his face faltered, revealing a bald head and pale skin, with too-large eyes sunken into the skull. 

Rex pulled up short, worry now visible in the way he held himself. He hovered a little higher, away from Dem.

“Fifty days. Bow or die,” Rex said in a harsh, unnatural voice, an edge of fear bleeding through.

Before Dem could react further, Rex had risen high above the city and was zipping over the mountains to the east of Horandel. Dem looked around at the shocked people around him, seeing fear and worry in their eyes. 

Dem wasn’t worried, though. He was angry. He set his jaw as he turned to continue clearing the rubble of the Court, resolving to defeat Rex and save his city from whatever the villain had planned for it.

 

[Weaver of Shadows he/him]

2 minutes ago, TheSurvivorofDeath said:

Here’s Chapter 3

  Hide contents

Chapter 3

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Dem shouted at the strange man. Rex, he’d said his name was.

Rex turned his head to look at Dem, his flight halted. 

“You come to my city, you kill my people, and you think you can just leave?” Dem yelled upward as he drew Devastation, his pistol.

“You are far beneath me, constable. Do not challenge your better,” Rex replied, his tone arrogant and dismissive.

“You will leave this city and you will not come back,” Dem called, defiance in his voice. “We will not bow to you.”

“Oh please,” Rex said, an edge of anger coming into his voice. “Your city is nothing but a colony of ants to be crushed beneath my boot. Stop this foolish defiance, and I will let you live.”

Rex’s shadowy platform began to drift closer to the ground as Dem looked up at him, his eyes hard and unyielding.

“We. Will. Not. Bow,” Dem said, his voice solid but full of raw anger. This man had come to his home. He had killed innocent people and caused chaos and destruction. And he had the audacity to think they would surrender to him?

“You insolent vermin!” Rex shouted, zipping towards Dem on his disk of shadows, a wicked-looking blade, made of pure ebony blackness, materializing in his hand. “Why must you defy me? Why must you refuse my offer? I tried to be pleasant, but you wouldn’t let me. Now you will die.”

Dem raised Devastation, the titanium barrel glinting in the afternoon sunlight as he sighted on Rex. He breathed deeply, then squeezed the trigger as he exhaled, moving calmly, keeping the gun steady despite the danger moving swiftly towards him. The crack of the gunshot echoed off of the buildings nearby, ringing in Dem’s ears as the silvery titanium bullet streaked through the air toward Rex.

The bullet took Rex in the right forearm. Though the bullet went straight through the flesh, there was a brief instant that it was in his body. In that instant, his shadowy blade vanished and the shadows masking his face faltered, revealing a bald head and pale skin, with too-large eyes sunken into the skull. 

Rex pulled up short, worry now visible in the way he held himself. He hovered a little higher, away from Dem.

“Fifty days. Bow or die,” Rex said in a harsh, unnatural voice, an edge of fear bleeding through.

Before Dem could react further, Rex had risen high above the city and was zipping over the mountains to the east of Horandel. Dem looked around at the shocked people around him, seeing fear and worry in their eyes. 

Dem wasn’t worried, though. He was angry. He set his jaw as he turned to continue clearing the rubble of the Court, resolving to defeat Rex and save his city from whatever the villain had planned for it.

 

Very interesting! I’m hooked.

[TheSurvivorofDeath]

Chapter 4

Spoiler

Chapter 4

Rex ran. His arm burned with pain where the bullet had struck him. That moment, though it had been only a fraction of an instant, where the titanium had stolen his powers away was still fresh in his mind. He hated feeling powerless. And that cursed constable. How dare he defy Rex’s will. Rex was not meant to be defied. He was meant to be a king.

He was away from the Square quickly, before the people below could react. He raced over the city, shadows solid beneath his feet, letting him defy the very laws of nature. He dodged between skyscrapers as the city sloped away beneath him, eventually deteriorating into broken slums of the poor. Soon, he passed over the solid walls of Horandel, the one part of the city that wasn’t just for decoration. He rose over the mountains that surrounded Capital Valley, verdant peaks rising high into the air before he crested over them, Sweeping back down along the mountain ridges. 

The Central Mountains soon fell away beneath him, leaving him to fly over fertile green hills at incredible speed. The journey he was on would take someone almost four days on foot, but he passed over the foothills of the mountains and on to the narrow strip of flat land in less than half an hour. The plains soon gave rise to another set of mountains, these ones wild and random, made of grey stone. Their snow capped peaks rose tens of thousands of feet into the air, scraping the pale blue sky. 

The Uncharted Mountains were a vast expanse of winding passages and massive caves. Nobody knew what rested within their wind-scoured canyons and sweeping cliffs. Nobody except Rex. He claimed the Uncharted Mountains as his own. He wound around the bases of mountains, navigating by instinct. Direction was difficult to judge when everything around you was the same grey rock. But, after only about fifteen minutes of flight, Rex found what he was looking for. 

The Citadel of Night rose from the rocky ground beneath it like an obsidian monolith. The massive square tower had razor sharp edges and seamless stonework. It was a relic from a time long past, a perfect piece of art nestled in the hostile heart of the mountains. Darkness spread out from the Citadel, deep black shadows covering the ground for hundreds of yards, almost as dark as the Citadel itself. Within the Citadel, even darker, more twisted shadows hid. Those shadows were Rex’s domain. His weapons, his life. His home.

He landed on the roof of the Citadel, where he was greeted by several servants. They saw the blood on his arm and quickly ran to get him some bandages. He didn’t say anything as his servants dressed his wound, and he pulled his arm away as soon as they were done, marching swiftly down into the darkness of the tower.

 

[Weaver of Shadows he/him]

27 minutes ago, TheSurvivorofDeath said:

Chapter 4

  Hide contents

Chapter 4

Rex ran. His arm burned with pain where the bullet had struck him. That moment, though it had been only a fraction of an instant, where the titanium had stolen his powers away was still fresh in his mind. He hated feeling powerless. And that cursed constable. How dare he defy Rex’s will. Rex was not meant to be defied. He was meant to be a king.

He was away from the Square quickly, before the people below could react. He raced over the city, shadows solid beneath his feet, letting him defy the very laws of nature. He dodged between skyscrapers as the city sloped away beneath him, eventually deteriorating into broken slums of the poor. Soon, he passed over the solid walls of Horandel, the one part of the city that wasn’t just for decoration. He rose over the mountains that surrounded Capital Valley, verdant peaks rising high into the air before he crested over them, Sweeping back down along the mountain ridges. 

The Central Mountains soon fell away beneath him, leaving him to fly over fertile green hills at incredible speed. The journey he was on would take someone almost four days on foot, but he passed over the foothills of the mountains and on to the narrow strip of flat land in less than half an hour. The plains soon gave rise to another set of mountains, these ones wild and random, made of grey stone. Their snow capped peaks rose tens of thousands of feet into the air, scraping the pale blue sky. 

The Uncharted Mountains were a vast expanse of winding passages and massive caves. Nobody knew what rested within their wind-scoured canyons and sweeping cliffs. Nobody except Rex. He claimed the Uncharted Mountains as his own. He wound around the bases of mountains, navigating by instinct. Direction was difficult to judge when everything around you was the same grey rock. But, after only about fifteen minutes of flight, Rex found what he was looking for. 

The Citadel of Night rose from the rocky ground beneath it like an obsidian monolith. The massive square tower had razor sharp edges and seamless stonework. It was a relic from a time long past, a perfect piece of art nestled in the hostile heart of the mountains. Darkness spread out from the Citadel, deep black shadows covering the ground for hundreds of yards, almost as dark as the Citadel itself. Within the Citadel, even darker, more twisted shadows hid. Those shadows were Rex’s domain. His weapons, his life. His home.

He landed on the roof of the Citadel, where he was greeted by several servants. They saw the blood on his arm and quickly ran to get him some bandages. He didn’t say anything as his servants dressed his wound, and he pulled his arm away as soon as they were done, marching swiftly down into the darkness of the tower.

 

I like Rex already!

[TheSurvivorofDeath]

23 hours ago, Weaver of Lights said:

I like Rex already!

Good. You’ll see a fair bit more of him.

Here’s chapter 5

Spoiler

Chapter 5

Keep Torinson, Dem’s ancestral home, rose twelve stories into the air, one of the tallest buildings in the city. With its high marble walls and solid central tower, the Keep had stood for centuries, since Horandel had been newly formed. The walls were engraved with stylized versions of the thirty Ferromantic symbols, and the massive oak gates were almost always left open. Dem’s room was on the eighth floor of the tower, and he sat on his bed, thinking as he waited for company.

It had been two days since Rex had issued his ultimatum, and Dem hadn’t even begun working to stop him. He had no idea where to start. He was used to solid, direct problems, things he could face head on. This fight was something different. It was distant, less immediate, less real. Dem wasn’t sure if he could face it the same way he did the usual problems. Rex wasn’t in the city. He could be anywhere in the Grand Republic, and Dem had no idea where to start looking, or what Rex might throw at them.

A knock came at his bedroom door. Dem rose and walked over to open the door. The heavy oak swung aside to reveal four people, three of them dressed in Constabulary uniforms similar to Dem’s, the fourth dressed in civilian clothing. 

“Hello, Dem,” Coar, a greying man with broad shoulders, said. Coar was built nearly as solidly as Dem, despite the age that showed in his face and hair.

“Hello, old friend,” Dem said back, clasping the old constable’s hand.

“What’s going on, Chief?” Wulf, one of the twins, asked.

The twins, Wulf and Ash, were just about identical in every way. They were both six feet tall, and they both kept their hair in the same slightly disheveled style. Their faces were exactly the same, apart from the scar Ash had earned on his right cheek when he’d tangled with a burglar a few years back. Ash was also a bit tanner than his brother, but it wasn’t a drastic difference. 

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Melody, a short woman dwarfed by the men in the room, said. Dem knew not to let Melody’s small stature fool him. She was one of the strongest people he’d ever met, with her tanned face framed by chocolate curls always expressing a stubborn strength.

“You all heard about the bombing on the Grand Court the day before yesterday?” Dem began.

“Yeah,” the twins said in unison, then immediately glared at each other.

“Yeah, I read about that,” Melody agreed.

“And you all know about the strange man who was behind it? The man who demanded that we bow to his will, or die?”

They all nodded in agreement.

“You want to fight him,” Coar guessed.

“Of course he wants to fight him,” Ash exclaimed. “What else would we do when a man threatens our city?”

“I wasn’t saying we shouldn’t do it, son,” Coar replied. “I agree that Rex needs to be stopped.”

“The problem is,” Dem said. “I don’t know where to start. This is a threat very different from the ones we’ve faced before. Crime rings and drug operations are nothing compared to what this Rex can do.”

“Do we have any idea where he might have gone?” Melody asked.

“He flew off to the east, but that doesn’t mean he has a base that direction. We have no idea where he could be,” Dem said.

“So we have nothing,” Wulf said.

“Pretty much,” Dem agreed.

“I suppose we better start working, then,” Coar said with a smile. 

“You all understand that this is going to be a dangerous task, right? We have no idea what Rex might throw at us or how to deal with it,” Dem told the group.

“We know, Dem,” Melody said.

“We’re with you, son,” Coar agreed.

The twins nodded, ready to get to work.

Dem smiled, knowing his friends would stay with him until the end. He was ready to see this through. He just had to figure out where to start.”

“I suppose,” Dem said, “that I ought to go have a conversation with the Mayor.”

 

Edited March 28, 2024 by TheSurvivorofDeath

[TheSurvivorofDeath]

Here’s chapter 6

Spoiler

Chapter 6

The blackness receded around Rex, giving way to a less complete form of darkness. Rex opened his eyes, his sight quickly adjusting to the shadows within the deep cavern. His sight was perfected to see in the shadows, but darkness did not completely give way before him. The farther edges of the round chamber were still shrouded in darkness, though the areas nearest him were visible as if illuminated. He stood, stretching, as the last remnants of extra awareness faded from his mind.

He made his way through the cavern, which was almost unnaturally smooth on all sides, nearly a perfect circle. Natural rock formations still littered the floor, though. Rex wove between these as he walked towards the elevator, which had been installed with a great deal of effort after Rex had discovered the Citadel. He stepped into the elevator and pressed the button. The motor at the top of the shaft began to turn, lifting the small metal elevator through several hundred feet of rock before coming to a stop at the lowest level of the Citadel.

Rex stepped off of the elevator, his black boots ringing on the ebony floors, which reflected the lights of oil lamps set into the walls. Rex kept those turned as low as possible, since bright lights hurt his enhanced eyes. He made his way down the labyrinthine halls of the Citadel, rounding several corners before coming to a stop at a sturdy wrought iron door. 

He pushed the door open, which was easy enough for him. His bond granted him some enhanced strength along with the enhanced senses and agility he possessed. Beyond the door was a large chamber, kept entirely in darkness. Rex could see through the shadows to a degree, but this darkness was unnaturally deep. Within the blackness, crimson pinpricks marked eyes opening in response to his arrival.

He quieted his Shades with a mental command, and many of the crimson eyes closed. Rex kept nearly three thousand of the Shades, but only his best creations were kept in the Menagerie of Nightmares. The darkness here made the Shades stronger, more real. Perfect for what he needed to make.

Rex reached outward with his powers, pulling the darkness around him to his hands, where he began to shape a new Shade. As he worked, his hands moving mostly by instinct, he thought back to his past. His people had forsaken him. They had cast him out, banished him from his home, just because he had dared defy their faulty and outdated faith. He had seen the return of the Spirits, but he had been called a heretic for refusing to continue believing in the old God. Banished, forced to wander alone for years before he found the Citadel and the treasures it contained. He had stopped himself from returning to his old home for many years now, but now that his plans were so close to completion, perhaps he could spare a moment for a little vengeance.

He finished the last piece of his Shade, and the shapeless shadows became solid. A humanoid shape, faceless, stood before him. Its form shifted slightly, trailing wisps of shadows as all Shades did. In its hand, this special Shade held a wicked sword, almost five feet long. Rex stepped back as faint crimson lights glowed from within the Shades blank obsidian face, the eyes glowing much duller than those of other Shades, as they were designed to. This Shade would prove to be quite useful.

Rex sent the Shade to do its work, and it left the Menagerie silently. Rex stayed in the shadows for a while longer, contemplating his revenge. Finally, decision made, he turned and left the chamber, closing the heavy iron door behind him. 

It was time for him to return home.

 

[TheSurvivorofDeath]

Chapter 7 
 

Spoiler

Chapter 7

Dem walked up the steps of City Hall, his eyes trailing over the nearby wreckage of the Grand Court as he passed through the large doorway. Inside, the white marble chamber was full of people, many waiting for appointments with various officials. Dem stepped up to the desk in the middle of the round room, where a pleasant looking blonde woman sat. She had a large ledger opened in front of her, which appeared to list appointment times and names. 

“I have an appointment to see the Mayor,” Dem said to the secretary.

“Of course,” the woman replied, looking up with a smile. “What is your name, sir?”

“Dem Torinson,” Dem replied.

The woman flipped through the ledger for a moment. Then she tapped her finger on a name. “Here it is Lord Torinson. You are a few minutes early, and the Mayor is quite busy. If you’ll have a seat over there, it will only be a moment,” she said, gesturing towards an area with several seats.

“Of course,” Dem said with a smile. “Thank you.”

He turned and walked over to the waiting area, sitting down. He ran his fingers through his thick black hair, which was beginning to grey in a few places, and then sat back in his chair. He stroked his short cut beard as he thought. He wasn’t sure what had him so worried about this fight, but he was afraid of something. He was afraid that not all of his friends would make it through this fight. Dem didn’t know much about Rex, but he could tell that he was ruthless. Fighting him would certainly be dangerous, if they could even get to the fight. Dem still wasn’t sure where to start in tracking Rex down. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a call from the desk. He stood, straightening his uniform coat, and began to walk towards the back of the room. An aide met him there, leading him back to an ornate oak and iron door. The aide bowed his head and walked away. Dem raised his hand and rapped on the door with his knuckles. 

“Come,” a gruff voice called from within.

Dem pushed the door open, revealing a fairly large office beyond. The walls were empty save for a few framed medals, remnants of the Mayor’s time in the Constabulary. At the large oak desk that, along with the two chairs on either side of it, was the only piece of furniture in the office, the Mayor sat. 

He was a large man. Not fat. No, Mayor Taoden could not be called fat. He enjoyed his food, to be sure, and he certainly filled out the suit he wore, which was tailored to be similar to a constable’s uniform. But he was more muscular than anything else. He kept himself in great shape, another thing that had carried over from his time as a constable.

“Ah, Chief,” Taoden said with a smile as he looked up from the papers on his desk. “How have you been, old friend? Come, sit down.”

Dem moved to sit in the chair opposite Taoden. A smile began to creep onto Dem’s face. One couldn’t help liking the Mayor.

“I’ve been doing pretty damn well, apart from almost getting killed the other day. Can’t complain. How have you been, Taoden? Politics still hell?”

“Well, I always say a life of almost is a life of never, eh,” Taoden said with a booming laugh. “Politics will always be hell, Dem. Nothing can be done to change that. But I’ve been doing well. What brings you here to see me?”

“Well, I’ve decided that I’m going to take it upon myself to hunt down and stop the terrorist who destroyed the Grand Court. I think I can handle it with my own team, I just came to let you know. And to see if you might have any advice for me.”

“Well, I think it’s a good thing you decided to do that. I personally would have assigned that task to you anyway, if I didn’t have the Senate suggesting we should negotiate instead of fighting.”

“The Senate is full of corrupt cowards, sir. I’m going to see this done. If I can figure out where to start,” Dem said, his tone uncertain.

“Well, I haven’t been a detective in quite a while, Dem. But I believe you can figure this out. Just use what you know. You’ll solve this. I trust you. This whole city trusts you.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll go get started right away,” Dem said, rising from his seat.

He shook the Mayor’s hand, then turned on his heel and walked out the door. He walked down the hall, his cloak flapping behind him despite the windless building. Boots ringing on the polished marble floor, Dem was soon out of City Hall and hailing a coach, his face determined. He had work to do.

 

Edited March 30, 2024 by TheSurvivorofDeath

[TheSurvivorofDeath]

Little late but here’s chapter 8

Spoiler

Chapter 8

A dark figure crested the mountains, looking down onto the mass of lights nestled into the valley below. The figure slowly made its way down the mountains, a hood pulled low to hide its face. As the figure hiked, it joined a group of workers heading into the city to find work. The dark night hid the wisps of darkness that the figure trailed behind it, and it went unnoticed by the people in the group. As they reached the bottom of the valley, the figure took in the gates before it.

Men in blue and black waved people through, only stopping to check inside of large carts or pieces of luggage. The group the figure was in quickly made its way up to the gates, and was waved through without trouble. Nobody at the gates paid the dark figure any mind.

Once the figure was through the gates, it broke off and  headed down some side streets. As soon as it found an empty street, it pulled off its hood and looked upward, towards the heights of the city.

Crimson eyes gazed upon brilliant electric lights covering skyscrapers in an ethereal glow. The figure took in the sight, then turned to make its way deeper into the grand city of Horandel.

 

[Weaver of Shadows he/him]

I like them! I especially enjoy everything with Rex, I love magic that deals with darkness and the like.

[TheSurvivorofDeath]

Here’s chapter 9

Spoiler

Chapter 9

A dark figure crested the mountains, looking down on the mass of lights nestled within the valley below. He began to make his way down the mountains, shadows obscuring his face as he picked up speed. By the time he reached the valley floor, men on Farfield’s walls had already spotted him and were shouting for him to stop. 

Rex kept running, moving at a full sprint as he drew his pistol, Nightfall, from the holster at his belt. As he got closer to the walls, he fired several careful shots, shadowy bullets materializing in his gun and being flung out with incredible force. A dozen men on the wall fell, but one of them took a bullet to the shoulder and barely stumbled. 

Spirits-cursed Ferromancers, Rex thought to himself as he reached the town’s gates, slamming his shoulder into them. His momentum and enhanced strength caused the bar on the other side of the gates to splinter, letting him force his way through. He was met by about a dozen constables, all in dark blue uniforms, all aiming rifles or pistols at him. 

…

Constable Balton stood at the head of the group of constables, having made his way down from the walls after being shot. That bullet had been powerful, but Balton was an Unbreaking, able to tap lead to make his skin and bones nearly indestructible. 

“Is he a Ferromancer?” Balton asked, turning to the other Ferromancer in the group, a Tinseer.

“If he is, he’s Pewtermasked. No idea how he’s as strong or as fast as he is, sir,” the constable replied. 

“Odd,” Balton said, turning back to face the attacker, who had stopped some twenty feet away from the group of constables. He began to walk forward, causing a dozen fingers to go to triggers as sights centered on the strange man.

“Your weapons cannot hurt me, constables. Surrender, and I may let some of you live,” the assailant declared.

“Who are you?” Balton called to the shadowed man.

“I am the one who you cast out. The one you banished for believing differently than you. And I have returned for my revenge,” the man called back.

With that, he sprung into motion. Shots were fired as he ran for the constables, but they all missed. Or rather, they were all dodged. The man moved like a wraith, inhumanly agile and quick. Shots missed their marks as he dodged side to side, leaping occasionally, impossibly to pin down. Any shots that he didn’t dodge were caught by shadowy tendrils that had begun to envelope him. Balton cursed, firing several shots of his own, as the man reached the group of constables and began to kill.

…

Rex found the new cloak of shadows quite useful. It caught bullets as they flew, leaving him free to use his blade and gun to kill those who resisted him. A pity he hadn’t had it when he’d gone to Horandel. He might have killed that constable.

He sliced through one man’s arm, his blade biting into the constable’s ribs and killing him. He spun and deflected a bullet, sending it ricocheting into the skull of another constable. A few slashes took the hands and head off of another pitiful fighter, and a thrust pierced yet another’s heart. Soon, the ground was littered with the remains of all but one of the dozen initial contables. Rex was sure he’d struck the man more than once, but he didn’t bear any more evidence than a ripped uniform.

Ignoring the Unbreaking, Rex made his way further into the town. Townspeople had begun to emerge from their houses, presumably having been awoken by the sounds of fighting. Rex casually cut down several of them, including two children. Such pitiful things, these normal men and women. So beneath him. So weak.

Rex was raising his blade to strike a cowering teenage girl when his tendrils of darkness ensnared a bullet fired from behind him. He turned to find the Unbreaking, his pistol extended before him. 

Bothersome fool, Rex thought, growing angry. Then he sprinted at the constable.

…

Balton barely had time to register that the attacker was coming at him before he was forced to tap lead against a series of violent and powerful swings. He stumbled back under the force of the blows before swinging his fist at the assailant. His fist was caught by a tendril of shadows before it connected, and he was forced to pull his arm back, the lead bracer there having turned black along the side.

“Why are you doing this?” Balton asked.

“I told you, constable,” the man said. “This town shunned me for going against what they believed. But I was right. They banished me, and I was right. So I have returned, bearing the mantle of Rex Malorum, King of Nightmares, to have my revenge.”

“That’s impossible!” Balton shouted. “We accept other beliefs here. Most of us aren’t even Nexist anymore. There hasn’t been a banishment in over twenty years, not since the Spirits returned.”

“I was the last one they cast out. How quickly you changed your ways when the proof could no longer be denied. And did they ever try to find me after they saw I was right? No. This pitiful town destroyed the man I once was, and the man I am now is going to destroy it,” Rex said.

Balton fired another shot, but it was caught by the tendrils of shadows surrounding Rex. The murderer looked at him, impatient, but turned away to continue his destruction.

…

Rex killed hundreds. An entire town died as he swept through it, mercilessly laying waste to adults and children alike. Blood stained his pale skin and soaked his black coat as he butchered dozens of innocents. 

The Unbreaking would occasionally try to stop him, only for Rex to beat him back again. Every failed attack left the constable’s metal further corroded by Rex’s shadows. Rex continued his bloody revenge, splintering door frames and shattering windows to find people hiding from him. 

After an hour of constant death, Rex was certain he had killed everyone in the town. All but one. He turned to find the constable standing a few feet away, looking exhausted. Rex began to walk towards him, picking up a fire iron from the corpse of a dead man. He tossed it to the constable, who picked it up. Then he smiled a skeletal, unnatural smile, and attacked.

…

Balton blocked the first strike, barely. The second took him in his ribs, which barely held with how low on lead he was. He gasped for breath as a fist was driven into his gut, and his own swing was met with a shadowy tendril, withering the last of the lead on that arm. He hardly had any left at all now.

Rex swung again and again, his blade connecting far more often than Balton managed to block it. Balton could feel his lead corroding on his arms, his skin and bones growing weaker. Soon, his left arm was sliced almost completely through, leaving him bleeding profusely. 

After a few more minutes of fighting, Rex remained unscathed. Balton bled from dozens of cuts, some deeper than others. He fell to his knees in exhaustion, looking up at the domineering figure of Rex.

“Someone will stop you,” Balton said, spitting blood at Rex’s feet.

“Oh, someone will try,” the horrible man replied. “I’m looking forward to killing them too.”

He raised his sword for the final strike, and Balton’s eyes stared at the heavens. He said a silent prayer to Nexu for salvation, then one to the Spirits for good measure as Rex began his swing. Balton met his eyes as the blade separated his head from his body.

…

Rex watched Farfield burn. He finally had his revenge, after all these years. The heat from the fires washed over him, despite the distance. He smiled, satisfied. Then he turned his horse, Nyx, back towards his Citadel.

 

[TheSurvivorofDeath]

Here’s chapter 10

Spoiler

Chapter 10

Melody walked through the dirty and crowded streets of the Lower District. She felt such pity for the poor people forced to live in slums and hovels while she and so many others could live in comparative luxury. Plenty of room to live, plenty of food to eat. All while these people begged for scraps and huddled together in one room living spaces. 

Melody did what she could, though. Today, she carried a basket full of bread and fruit. She saw how the people on the streets looked at the basket with hunger in their eyes, but most people in this area knew the children got food first. She stopped as she came across a young boy clutching his mother’s leg as she washed clothes in a barrel of water. She fished a small loaf of bread and an apple from her basket as she stooped down to look the boy in the eyes. She saw that he was frightened and clearly starving, from the way his cheeks sunk into his face and his ribs protruded from his unclothed torso. She offered the food to him, and he looked to his mother, clearly hesitant. The woman looked at Melody, then nodded to her son, smiling wanly. The boy eagerly took the food once he had his mother’s permission, and he took a big bite of the apple, smiling as juice dripped down his chin.

“Thank you,” the mother whispered as Melody stood and dusted off her wool trousers.

She nodded, smiling faintly as she picked up her basket and continued on. She passed several groups of children playing, and offered each of them food. The younger ones accepted eagerly, but many of the older ones were distrustful. Most of them still took the food, but they took time to accept it, and she noticed that they didn’t eat right away like the young children did. 

Melody rounded a corner, looking for more youth to feed, but she found only a group of adults huddled in an alley, playing cards. The men stood as they noticed her, and more joined them from behind her as she backed away. She was surrounded by hungry men, and she was holding a basket of food.

“Listen, guys,” Melody began. “I don’t want any trouble. If you’ll kindly clear a path, I’ll be on my way.”

“Now, now, miss,” one of the men piped up. The fact that he looked better fed than the other told Melody that he was probably the leader of this gang. “We’s just a bit hungry. You’s wouldn’t deny a couple of good guys a bit of bread, would you?”

“I suppose I could spare a loaf or two. But then I really must be on my way,” Melody said.

“We’s was thinking more like the whole basket, miss. Not a lot of food to go around here, you know.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir. This food is for the children first,” Melody said, trying to sound polite.

“I’m afraid we’s wasn’t asking, miss,” the leader said, pulling a knife from his belt.

“I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this,” Melody said, “but it appears you people are as stupid as you look.”

She dropped to one knee, swinging her fist into the side of the leader’s knee. He yelped in pain, hopping back, as one of the more muscular men in the group tried to grab her. She ducked under his arms, bringing her knee up into his groin. He wheezed, keeling over, as Melody turned and broke another man’s nose with a flat palm to the face. A fourth man went down as he ran right into a straight kick to the gut, and a fifth took a solid uppercut as Melody tripped him. The men might have been starving, but most of them were still bigger than her. And the bigger they were, the more momentum they had for her to use. After she broke the arm of the sixth of the eight men, they finally seemed to have had enough. 

“I’ll be going now,” she said, turning to walk out of the alley.

She just barely noticed the leader, his knife back in his hand, lunging for her as she turned. She spun back around, sidestepping the man’s thrust, then kicked his legs out from underneath him. She stepped over, placing her foot on his forearm. Then she pushed. Hard. She put all of her weight, a solid hundred and thirty pounds, on the man’s arm. He began to whimper in pain, finally releasing his grip on the knife. Melody reached down and plucked it off the ground.

“I’ll be taking this,” she said, watching to make sure none of the men made another move.

“Fine, you’s can take your food. Just don’t hurt us anymore,” the leader said, pain in his voice.

“Gladly. Though I will admit kicking your sorry asses was pretty fun. Off I go,” she said, a hint of joviality in her voice. 

She didn’t let on how afraid she had been for a moment. She was lucky these men had been clueless in a fight, and hadn’t had better weapons. Best not to think about that.

She continued on, distributing more food to hungry children. Their smiles quickly buried her previous worry with joy, and she was soon smiling herself as she carried her ever-lightening basket down the street.