Small Blog Reorganization

Simplified the Labels so that there aren't labels for each character. This is because the overall story is not how I originally thought it was going to be. I orginally thought it would mainly be about the seperate characters living their seperate adventures without necessarily needed interaction with the other characters except for small cross overs. This however is not the case and the story has gone and made itself cohesive. Two Labels now exist for the Many Worlds Project Story and Notes. Story will contain the actual backbone of the piece and Notes contains my scattered notes about the setting which may or may not be included into the main story as chapter captions.

Also renamed various story entries simply to Chapter 1, 2, 3, etc, since as stated above the individual tales are now too entwined.

Bigger plans are in the works, I have discussed with a friend of mine about a possible mini writer's blog network amongst my friends. Having a main blog which contains all the update news for the other blogs which can simply have the writing on them so that news is not cluttered up in there with the writing. I will probably get to working on this larger project sometime in the near future. If that works then this blog will become more like a storage device for my writing rather than a kind of hybrid personal blog.

Chapter 8

This is as far as I have gotten in this project so posts will probably be more spread out now since I am actually writing the next bit as we speak. The plot thickens as Dion meets Dusdane. Also with this entry the Many Worlds Project has surpassed 100 pages.

Afternoon had stretched into evening by the time she got back to Dusdane. He lay there just as he had when she left him. He didn’t stir when she entered.

She let her eyes examine every inch of the silly man’s body. She smirked to herself. How could the Wraith’s think this blunderer was the kind of man they needed. He was a bragger. He was a philanderer, and he was a kind man. Faecon appeared to be kind, but something in his eyes betrayed his true thoughts. People were pawns to him and he was only kind when it got the best results.

Dion’s eyes had simply been cold, calculating, unfeeling. Both these men had interest in Dusdane and it worried her. She didn’t want them to change him, otherwise he wouldn’t be the person she loved.

There was the unpleasant reality that Freah didn’t know much about Dusdane. Perhaps there was something back on Elayne he wouldn’t tell her about, something that made him a perfect candidate. She knew he felt guilt for something, it was the reason he would never speak of his life back on Elayne. He mentioned his past sparingly, only ever mentioning the Garrenian invasion and his parents. She doubted anything he had done could make her hate him. She just sensed in her gut he would never be like those two. But there was always doubt, doubt never goes away. What if he had done something, murdered people, harmed innocents. If he had done that, if everything he had told her had been a lie and maybe she was a pawn of Dusdane’s.

Two soft foot steps came from a window, out of the shadows stepped Dion. He looked over Dusdane’s unconscious body and smirked, “Isn’t he darling when he is so helpless.”

Freah moved a few steps closer to the bed. She had no idea what Dion wanted but she wasn’t going to let him harm Dusdane.

Dion took a few steps laterally along the wall, smiling as he did. He stopped and looked at a bookshelf. “Fascinating collection, medicine, educational books. You do like to help people.” He pulled a book off the shelf. “Looks like this book has been opened recently.” He flipped through it. “Ah treating of head wounds, so I guess you are to thank for keeping our candidate alive.”

“What are you doing here?” Freah asked as she moved a foot under her bed nudging a length of heavy wood she kept ready for emergencies, in her direction.

Dion shoved the book back into place. He moved around the room observing everything. Everything was scrutinized in a glance, his eyes darted back and forth as if he was attributing everything to memory. “I am simply here to speak with Dusdane. Faecon thought I should get here before you to ensure he didn’t learn anything we didn’t want him too.”

“You don’t trust me?”

Dion arched his eyebrows inward incredulously. “And why should we? We know where your alliances lie, just as we know where Dusdane’s lie. We need to make sure you understand.”

She toed the bludgeon closer to herself quietly. “Understand what?”

“Your alliance isn’t with a world or any higher cause, you are looking out for yourself and those you care about.” Dion said as he took a step closer to the bed. “So in order to make you feel said alliance to a larger cause we are going to make sure that you understand. Understand that, should we fail or you go against our wishes, that harm will befall you and those you care about.” Dion’s eyes locked on Dusdane. “Do we understand each other?”

Freah nodded. “I am not a fool, I know how the Wraiths work.”

“Good, because fools make poor Arbitrators.” Dion took a step away and towards the window sitting on the sill. “I wouldn’t count on Dylan being able to help you with us. He understands our mission.” He pulled out a knife and began gently cleaning beneath his fingernails with it.

Freah stood silent for a minute before Dion looked up again.

“Well, are you going to wake him?” Dion said without looking up.

Freah moved her hand onto Dusdane’s shoulder and shook him gently. Dusdane rolled away.

Dion frowned, “Oh come on, do it properly.”

“I am not sure what you mean,” Freah responded.

“Yes, you do. Come now, I am bored.”

Freah moved closer to Dusdane and whispered into his ear and her lips brushed his forehead.

Dusdane’s eyes, opened slightly. “Apparently I am not dead, unless you are my heaven.” Dusdane said quietly a smile spreading across his lips.

Despite herself Freah smiled slightly. Then adding mockingly, “You’ve used that line before.”

Dusdane lifted himself onto his elbows and yawned, then he noticed Dion. “What the… Who…?”

Dion lowered the blade back into a sheath in his coat. His black eyes locked with Dusdane’s with an icy gaze. “I am a friend of Faecon’s”

“Then you found him,” said Dusdane to Freah.

Freah nodded, but didn’t know what else to say. So much she wished to tell him but she was unsure what could be said without endangering him.

“Faecon, speaks very highly of you Dusdane.” Said Dion standing up from the windowsill.

Dusdane looked at Dion, with his head slightly tilted, then looked to Freah, who remained silent with a sad look in her eyes. “I have no idea why he would speak about me like that.” Dusdane was confused, part of him wondered if he was having visions from his headwound.

“Regardless, he does.” Dion peaked out the window, it seemed more out of habit than actual paranoia. “I represent a section of the Elaynian government. I am here in an advisory position to the Arbitrators.”

“You’re a Wraith…” said Dusdane and inched away on the bed. He found himself closer to Freah who simply gripped his hand tightly.

“You can call me Dion.” Dion replied with a smirk. He seemed to genuinely revel in the terror he gave others.

“How do you know Faecon?”

“He is a regular source of info for me, caravans and rumor are very useful to us.” Lied Dion.

“And what do you want with me?”

“Faecon informs me that you are very well traveled, ever been to Icene?”

“A few times…”

“You have an acquaintance there by the name of Abbot Lot am I correct?”

“It has been a long time since I have seen him…”

“You will accompany me to Icene to Lot’s settlement, whereupon you will help me locate and introduce me to him.”

“You planning to kill him?” Asked Dusdane.

“No, but I will need to ask him things that he will not likely answer to someone he doesn’t trust. Hence I will need you to lend credibility to my story.”

“And your story is?”

“That is a state secret Dusdane.”

Dusdane looked at Freah who’s hand was coldly gripped onto his. Her eyes wanting to say so many things but her lips saying nothing. “Well, if it is all right with you, Dion, I think I will pass. I have no interest in going to Icene.” Freah’s grip relaxed for a moment.

Dion’s smile faded, his face growing deadly. “That is unfortunate.”

Freah saw Dion’s movement before she heard the rush of air as he moved. Two knives were out and he was coming at her. She grabbed the board under his bed and managed to catch Dion off guard. The board slammed into one of Dion’s hands and his knife flew into the nearby wall. Dusdane rolled out of the bed but as his feet hit the ground dizzyness over took him and he tried to balance himself on the headboard of the bed.

Dion cursed and ducked below a second swing of the board and came up with his free hand catching Freah in the throat.

Dusdane rushed Dion but soon found a foot in his gut and he stumbled backwards back onto the bed.

Dion held his knife to Freah’s throat and with his now free hand wrenched the board from her hand.

“This won’t make me help you!” Dusdane spat as the room swirled around him and he tried to get himself upright.

Freah stared defiantly at Dion, and began to struggle but she felt the blade lightly prick her skin and blood begin to flow. She stopped. Dion looked at her his lips curling back into a smile. She could tell he loved the control. At this moment no one could stop him.

“I am simply making a point, Dusdane. I tried to appeal to your love of country but that didn’t seem to do, so now I must appeal to more direct love.” Said Dion his fist quickly slammed into Freah’s stomach, she gasped despite not wanting to utter a sound.

“Stop this!” Cried Dusdane.

Dion grabbed Freah by the throat again and tossed her onto the bed. Freah grabbed a bandage from a table by the bed, the same she used to tend Dusdane the night before, and pressed it against her neck. She turned to Dion who stood there knife out, a drop of Freah’s blood fell to the ground. He took a few steps towards the bed. Dusdane tried to push himself up, but a firm hand shoved him back down. Freah backed off the bed trying to move Dion away from the hurt Dusdane. She didn’t mind the pain as much, she just wondered how she could beat the bastard. She didn’t want Dusdane to go with him, she could take the punishment.

“This is pointless Dion, if you hurt her you are not going to make me want to help you!”

“I don’t want you to want to help me.” Said Dion moving at Freah again. “I want you to know that this was not a choice you were given. You will help me or everyone you care about will suffer.”

Freah swung at Dion and caught him while he finished his speech. Dion took it and stumbled. Freah lashed out with a kick, but Dion had spun with the blow and swung out a leg sweeping her feet.

Dion pinned her to the ground, “And there are so many ways to make her suffer.”

Dusdane stood up, “Stop!”

Dion ran the knife tip down Freah’s chest for a moment then stood up keeping his foot on Freah. “Or maybe I should hit a more clandestine target,” said Dion. “I mean you have only known this women for a few years.” He said waving his knife nonchalantly. “How is your sister Dusdane?”

Dusdane froze. The words crashing onto him like ice falling from a rooftop.

“Mikea, right?”

Freah looked at Dusdane for a moment in confusion.

Dion looked at Freah, “Oh he never told you about his little sister. Darling child, no more than what, eight years?”

“You wouldn’t dare…”

“Oh come now, I brutalize this woman in front of you and you presume to tell me what I dare not do.” Dion openly laughed and removed his foot from Freah. She stood up and squared for a fight. Dion waved her off and sat down in a nearby chair sheathing his knife. Freah thought about attacking again, but she knew she wouldn’t win. Tomorrow, she thought to herself, tomorrow she went to Dylan, he promised to train her.

Dion folded his hands. “She lives with your uncle, since you never stay on Elayne very long. She asks about you often you know that? It makes one wonder why you don’t see her that much.” Dion smirked to himself, “but who am I to moralize.”

Dusdane grit his teeth and sat down. “Fine, I’ll go with you.”

Dion stood up and dusted himself off. “Good, we leave in three days, that should give you plenty of time to heal up, at least enough to travel.” He walked towards the stairway down to the bar. “And you know what will happen if you run.”

Dion left without a sound. Dusdane stood warily and moved to Freah. He brought fresh bandages to her and tried to apply them. He worked silently, and did a poor job. Freah grabbed his hand as he worked and stopped him. “I’ll take care of it, I appreciate the thought, but I am better at this,” she said.

She helped him to the bed and lay him down. She quickly adjusted the bandage Dusdane had put on her. She then went over and checked on his wounds. Then she lay down next to him; so many things she wanted to say and no way to say them.

“Mikea?” She finally uttered after several long quiet moments.

Dusdane was laying facing away from her and she saw his back rise with a deep inhalation of breath. “Yes, my sister back on Elayne.”

“Looks like I was right about you having another woman back there,” replied Freah.

It was a poor joke and Dusdane didn’t reply.

“Why didn’t you tell me about her?”

“Because I am not proud of…” Dusdane went silent again, “I am not proud of how I have taken care of her.”

“I can imagine,” Freah said propping herself up on one elbow. “Considering how often you are here, there is no way you could be taking care of her.”

“My uncle watches out for her when I am away.”

“Which is often,” Freah said somewhat bitingly. She didn’t like the idea of Dusdane abandoning his sister. Abandonment hit too close to home.

Dusdane rolled onto his back. “I know, I know.” He said sighing again and then looking at Freah. “I want to be there for her, but I want my own life too.”

“It looks like that desire has now put her in danger.” Freah replied. “You could have found work on Elayne.”

Dusdane rolled onto his side and stroked Freah’s face. “Then I would have never have met you.” Freah didn’t respond to the touch. Dusdane rolled away. “Besides, I would have gone nuts staying on Elayne, and had I been forced to stay by my sister I would have grown to hate her.”

“I can understand that Dusdane, but you should realize that you are lucky to have some family left.”

“I thought I was doing what was best for her.” Dusdane sighed, “Guess I was foolish.”

Freah but her hand on Dusdane’s shoulder and moved closer to him. “Don’t worry, it will be okay.”

Dusdane reached across his chest and held her hand. “Who are you reassuring?”

Freah didn’t answer just pulled Dusdane close. She finally said, “You have to be careful out there.”

Dusdane reached around and grabbed a hold of Freah looking her in the eye. “I don’t think he will harm me, he needs me too much.”

“I don’t trust him,” said Freah, then she squeezed Dusdane. “Don’t worry though, when you get back… if you get back. I’ll be ready for him.”

“We could just run away tonight, go back to Elayne and get ready for him there.” Dusdane wondered out loud.

Freah shook her head, “No, he is a Wraith, if we run it will just be worse.”

“How do we even know?”

“I know…” Freah cut him off.

“Something happened when you found Faecon?”

Freah nodded, “I can’t tell you about it. Better for both of us this way.”

The two entwined from head to toe. “We are way out of our depths.”

Freah nodded.

“What do we do?” asked Dusdane.

“We try and stay afloat, any way we can,” replied Freah.

The two lay and held each other till sleep overtook them.

Outside Dion stood on a corner cleaning his nails with the tip of his knife.

Faecon approached, “So he agreed?”

Dion nodded.

“Looks like you got clipped,” Faecon said nodded to the bruise forming on the side of Dion’s jaw.

“The bitch can swing,” was all Dion said in reply.

“I see they took some convincing, I hope you didn’t go far enough to make Dusdane angry at you. We need him cooperative.”

“I went as far as necessary Faecon, and I won’t have you second guessing me.” Dion said with a gesture towards him with the knife.

Faecon only smiled, “Very well, but if you damage him, make him unusable, you and I will have issues Dion.”

“Is that a threat?”

Faecon just kept smiling. “Come on we have business.”

The two Wraiths walked off into the night.

A single chocolate galzed donut sat in the lunch room, and the two IT guys had just spotted it.

From the Office of Sengir, Mahoney, and Ysslgoth

So I thought this up on my way to work this morning after reading an essay on H.P. Lovecraft. I think it has potential as a short story at least, we will see where this takes me.

Sengir, Mahoney, and Ysslgoth is the name of a firm specializing in the rights of naturally challenged beings. The term supernatural has been dropped since it implies superiority and that is not the case today in our modern times. Formally called Supernatural beings were believed to be monsters that lurked in the night but in our age of litigation and high tech law enforcement it was clear that these beings were simply entities with no legal rights within our system. Hence the name Naturally Challenged came into being, to more adequately describe their situation.

Sengir, Mahoney, and Ysslgoth has been working tirelessly to establish legal precedents and rights for your average zombie, vampire, werewolf, and eldritch abomination. Our very own lead shareholders are in fact members of this previously disadvantaged group.

James Sengir, is a classically trained lawyer, and by classically we mean he knows most laws from their original Latin written in the United Kingdom. He was turned by his uncle into a vampire at the age of 25. It wasn’t until several hundred years later that he sued his uncle for the contraction of Vampirism under a loop hole in the laws regarding STD litigation.

Jene Mahoney, is a recently turned sentient zombie, though the term these days tends to be Ghouls. She was an attorney who graduated from Northwestern worked in many firms all over New York until she had an unexpected run in with a Witch Doctor in a real estate case. She came to serve him on his foreclosed swamp and the Witch Doctor zombified her. She is most well known for her epic struggle to regain many of her organs that were removed after her “death” but before she rose again three days later. However she eventually lost the case, since she had agreed to be an organ donor before her death. This case Mahoney v. New Orleans Methodist Health Center, set a number of precedents in the legal world, some of which Mahoney is still trying to overturn. For example the assumption that contracts signed before death can be enforced upon the undead, assuming sentience.

Ysslgoth is an eldritch abomination from the stars that fell into the sea off the coast of San Francisco twenty years ago. He has since proven, though unschooled, to be one of the most brilliant legal minds of our age. While it is impossible for any of his clients to look upon him without losing all hope and delving into insanity, this has not slowed down his legal career. Through a network of psychically gifted and certifiably insane assistants he has worked in an advisor capacity for many firms before receiving an honorary JD from NYU. The Dean still has nightmares from the experience and he only dealt with one of Ysslgoth’s more potent assistants.

Together these three entities are attempting to change the legal world and establish new rights and laws in regards to naturally challenged beings, and bring about a new age of tolerance and understanding around the world.

-From the “About the Firm” section of the Sengir Mahoney and Ysslgoth website.

And then it began, the in office dick measuring contest, starting with the refusal of help.

I prefer the term naturally-challenged, supernatural implies a superiority that legally none of us have.

Distant starlight collided with the floating black crystalline shape.

Deep within the seven thousand voices cried out in six hundred garbled cries.

Scanners detected nothing unusual about the object.

Everyone who looked at it too long began to look ill, and asked to be excused.

Chapter 7 continued

Decided to add more onto Daniel's section here, so that it actually feels like a chapter, even though it is still short.

Solomon had always spoken as though there was nothing the scholars couldn’t handle. We were the keepers of the lost secrets, the chosen of the ancient ones. When the first groups of scholars had ventured through the gate to Roamus we despaired to see that the only world connected to ours was even more desolate. Then one survey group was taken. They came back the black inky masses that were both nothing and horrible. The names of those surveyors were lost, unable to be remembered. The voidshaped not only took the bodies but the very memory. Where once there had been a person there was only void.

Solomon’s grandfather was the first the find out that the crystal technology of the ancient ones was able to harm the horrors. Since then the Scholars of Battle had researched the methods of melting and shaping the crystals and trained their members in combat, that had been so rarely used before. Daniel had always hoped to be one of them and that mission with Solomon himself was dream come true.

Until he actually fought one of the voidshaped, and lost his nerve. Then the Harantons attacked. Daneil had forged himself into a weapon only to be smashed against unbreakable walls. The world of Icene was collapsing on all sides and the Elders were too terrified of letting the other worlds learn our technological secrets to ask for help.

So he fights and watches his friends die. He dragged Isaac back to the gate, he stayed there waiting for Solomon to return until the sun set and the cold forced him back through the gate.

Daniel had looked the elders in the eye and while they never said they blamed him for Solomon’s disappearance, their eyes screamed. Perhaps Lot had hoped this skirmish with the Harantons would have killed Daniel.

It would be interesting to see Lot’s response when he saw him alive again, once again a survivor. Jessica had touched his face and said he was the best of them, he still didn’t believe her. He had failed, failed twice to defend his people.

Daniel at last came to an outcropping of crystal which provided a low shelter. He crawled into the crevice between the frozen soil and the unmoving crystal, at least he was out of the wind. He dozed there wrapped tightly in his robes, listening the wind howl aimlessly around him. Exhaustion took him, but not for long he spent much of the rest of the night between sleep and wake. Sometimes he was back in the battle but this time his sword would not form. Then he awoke to what he thought was the sound of footsteps out on the dirt. No one came for him while he was asleep. He had put enough distance between him and the settlement. The Harantons would be scavenging now, wouldn’t try and follow the fleeing citizens of their ravaged home. Though soon the cold would drive them out to find another one. With the core destroyed the heating systems wouldn’t make things comfortable.

Numbness had taken Daniel’s feet and hands he tried to get blood flowing into them again as he began his hike again. His eyes scanned the horizon as he marched for several days. He traveled in one direction never deviating, if he did he would be lost. There were no planets to navigate by in the sky, there were no landmarks. During the day he could barely make out when the Sun King had risen, let alone where. There were some markers he could spot, there were spots of uneven dirt, where a long progression of steps had traveled. Hundreds of Iceneians can’t cross the wastes without leaving some trail. Aside from that though all was gray, with ice and snow blowing in the air.

On the third day the storm cleared, the snow stopped. Daniel removed his head wrapping and let the cool air circulate in his lungs. His mind had cycled the events of the battle. His sadness slowly began to turn to anger. The Harantons had taken Jessica from him, he would make them pay. No, the voidshaped were using the Harantons like puppets. Fear gripped him again. Fear only the voidshaped could invoke, the fear of never existing, the fear of having Jessica’s memory taken away.

Daniel clenched his fists and jaw. He had slain one. He had done what he couldn’t do on Roamus. He had to be the best as Jessica had said he was. He had to find a way to stop the Harantons and travel back to Roamus and finish this.

But he had no idea how.

In the distance he saw a large mound of dirt and crystal. He could feel a very distant vibration through the ground. He had made it to Lot’s new settlement. It was time to have some words.

It always seemed like fridays had the last minute, file it or be fired, filings.

There is a step between the 25th and 26th floor that has a crack in it, and every time I step on it makes a cracking noise, like one day I will step and fall through plummeting 25 stories.

I need Sleep, but won't get it.

As you probably noticed no larger piece went up friday. Going to hold back posting on friday till I have something more substantive. Been busy lately and need to do some catch up writing and forge ahead with the story. That and I am getting to a point in all of my work where I know where I am and I know the ending, but for the life of me can't get there. Though in this case I don't actually know where it is going to end. If you see me, tell me to write.

So much catch-up

You make it sound like I was making fun of his thundercats lunchbox.

Pain arced in a forking pattern across his brow.

A melody of surpassing haunting dripped into the room.

He strained and pushed the clumps of creativity out of his exposed brain.

He wore a guise so that he would never have to be alone.

What constitutes a sentence?

Pointless challenges to genre and style aren't always the best for narrative.

William Gass once said "The problem with utopia is that there is no red light district."

To which I respond, "the problem with red light districts is that you can't often get a good sandwich"

Watchmen Review

I saw Watchmen at midnight last night and I figure people will be asking me about it. I figured rather than explaining over and over again I would just write a semi-formal review. Put that journalism training to good use.

I feel I should warn you ahead of time about my biases. I am a fan of the graphic novel. I read it at the end of my senior year of college and a few months ago in preparation for the movie. I have read the ramblings of fanboys much more rabid than I, and I was prepared for Watchmen to suck large quantities of balls. However I should also note I am not as big a fanboy as many of these fans. I am open to the possibilities of adaptations not being EXACTLY like the book. I understand that for any movie to be true to a comic I would have to sit through a slideshow of the graphic novel.

All that being said I feel that Watchmen overall was a very good movie. The novel had to be cut down substantially and sequences were shortened from their length in the graphic novel, but Alex Tse, David Hayter, and Zack Snyder all earn some credit that every major sequence made it into the movie. A notable exception to this was the death of a secondary character which had a large emotional impact in the story but didn't have much to do with the overall story, so I see why it got cut.

Immense care was taken with the writing and it was preserved to a level that I have never quite seen in a movie adaptation. It was because they took such care in keeping the writing that the movie turned out so well. All the characters were spot on, with only Laurie being somewhat weak. I should note however that Laurie is somewhat weak in the graphic novel as well. I challenge you to search the "favorite watchmen character" threads and find anyone who says Laurie was an excellent character.

I heard many people complain that Zack was too much of an action movie director and that the slow motion trailers were a sign of deviation from the core ideas of the book. It is interesting to see that movie has a definate increase in action and fore than the book, seeing Snyder's work this is not totally unexpected. The fight scenes with the ramped up gore didn't add much to the story. However Snyder did a great job in casting and directing each character.

Rorschach stood out head and shoulders above the rest in the movie. Jackie Earle Haley was cold sociopathic and brutal, as the character should be. Rorschach's backstory had to be cut down a lot but Haley did a great job of making me empathize and even to a degree understand Rorschach.

I was worried about Dan Dreiburg / Night Owl II. I was worried that they wouldn't get him right, either upping his awesome level to a point that didn't match the novel or they would push him so far into comic relief that a lot of his compassion and idealism would be lost. Snyder did push things uncomfortably in the direction of comic relief but not enough to lose Dreiburg's character.

Also I was worried about the chemistry between Laurie and Dreiburg but Akerman and Wilson managed to pull it off better than I expected. Granted I am used to love scenes from the likes of Push and Star Wars, this one was actually fairly well done, but I am sure people with higher expectations will not be as fond of it.

I hated Billy Crudup's voice for Dr. Manhatten in the trailer, but I must admit he made me a convert and I am now very much a fan of his performance. The Comedian was no surprise, when I saw Jeffrey Dean Morgan I knew he would be perfect and this was a rare instance in which I was not disappointed. Carla Gugino as Sally Jupiter was an unexpected excellent performance. Ozymandius feels as though he caught the worst of the cutting room, much of his backstory and philosophy are lost, making the ending feel a bit more forced, even compared to the novel.

I heard many complaints about the the slow-motion, but I realized throughout the movie that the slow-mo was in place so that the audience could appreciate the level of detail in each frame. From the Sally Jupiter pin-up in the comedian's apartment and the Sally Jupiter lighter to the care put into Night Owl's and Ozymandius' Lairs, you can tell this movie was made by a fan. I want to see the movie again just so I can catch the more of the detail.

The only other thing I should add is that while I realize a lot was cut for time, the movie still felt a bit too long. Granted I was watching at midnight after a long day of work with another day of work looming outside the theater, but at around two hours and thirty minutes, when I already knew how it was going to end, I wanted it to pick up the pace.

Also as mentioned above some of the increased violence and gore were unneccesary and detracted away from the characters.

The music was a mixed bag. For the most part the use of period music like Bob Dylan and Simon and Garfunkel worked very well. However there were two or three times when I raised my eyebrow and said "Really?" upon hearing Snyder's choice of music. Most of these scenes invovled Laurie, and I will say this, there is no place for the song 99 red balloons in any movie, ever.

Despite the instances of bad music there were very few moments when I felt pulled out of the experience. One that comes to mind is when Night Owl suits up again after years of retirement and the music playing is practically the batman theme. We get it Snyder, he is an analogy for batman. I know it was intentional and it really just annoyed me more than anything and approached a level of camp that the offset the grit that had before been the mainstay of the movie.

So in conclusion, the movie is good. The acting and writing are great. The visuals are detailed and great. There are moments when humor uncomfortably tries to lighten the mood. The music for the most part is fantastic, with moments of being very offsetting.

I recommend to all my friends to see it, but I suggest doing it after a meal and after using the restroom, because it is Lord of the Rings long.

Sentence catch up again

With the fury of a thousand bureacrats, he slammed his rubber stamp down, signifying that the bill had been recieved.

This did not mean that the bill would be paid however.

He smirked as the flustered attorney yelled at him; the man was missing his left shoe.

She explained with painful slowness and precision.

Some News

Just a head's up to those of you who have been reading my work and busily correcting the typos, I am glad to inform you that I too am doing the same thing. In fact I printed up a master copy of everything so far posted and have been going over it with a pen. Edits will soon be coming, but my priority is still finishing the story first. After I have a fully written rough draft I will start the lengthy process of re-writing so that it all will make some kind of sense.

Yes you my readers will get to see the creative process in action beginning with my bouts of creative diarrhea continuing into the hopeful crafting and shaping of an actual readable piece of fiction that I can then sell for millions of dollars hopefully freeing me from the tedium of the corporate office life.

Chapter 7

Okay this one is short, but I wanted to vary things up from Freah. I have a lengthy piece continuing where it left off with Freah but it doesn't seem time yet.

Daniel looked over the flat horizon, the only change from here to the edge of what he could see was the frequent gusts of snow and dust blown up by the ceaseless winds. His feet had taken him a fair distance despite his body being tired from the slaughter. He had pushed on ignoring the ache of his body, the numbness in his arm where he had held at bay club strikes and javelins. The frost on his eyes kept him from letting a tear slip out.

Jessica was dead.

Absolom was dead.

David was dead.

Abigail was dead.

Daniel stood alone, walking through the winds, a ghost of that battle.

They hadn’t been ready, but of course they had. They were young but they had all trained long and hard to fight battles like that. Any battle-trained scholar was ready to fight off dozens on their own. Daniel remembered when David had helped teach him some of the basics of fighting.

“It is all about rhythm,” David had said, as he had dodged about Daniel landing blow after blow regardless of the defenses Daniel tried to put up. “Every fight has a rhythm, set that rhythm so that it is on your terms. Wait till they become comfortable…” David said as Daniel finally was able to match his blows with blocks, “…Then change!” David’s punch was diverted but he used that momentum to swing around and slam his foot into Daniel’s side.

Daniel remembered laying their hazy for a second as David reached down grabbing his hand and pulling him back up. “At least that is how Solomon taught me,” David said with a smile. He was always capable, but never overly proud. Everything he knew and excelled at he attributed to others. It made it easy for David to follow Daniel when he saw that Daniel had surpassed him. David congratulated Daniel when Daniel was selected to go to Roamus with Solomon for the hunt. David had fought to hold the line as Daniel retreated and repositioned.

Abigail had not been as kind as David in their rivalry. Abigail was steady in many things, consistent in her studies, consistent in her duties to the settlement and consistent in working to be a better fighter than Daniel. Their matches had become quite the spectacle in training. Trainee Scholars would line up to watch the two cross swords. In their last bout the two had fought till both were dripping with sweat and after an expert parry by Abigail, Daniel’s sword broke. The second jab went for his throat. She stopped the tip uncomfortably close to Daniel’s throat. Daniel had blamed his poorly constructed blade for his defeat, but he had known that Abigail’s riposte had been too swift. He never had the chance to be as gracious as David. Abigail had stood by his side till the rocks took her shield.

Absolom had never lost his smile, until this battle. He always had a joke, always a way to get out of a task. He and Daniel had snuck out of a scribing session or two to stand on the cliff tops of the settlement and watch a snow storm scream across the plains to them. Absolom would dare Daniel to stay out here longer than him. Daniel would always win. Absolom also had an annoying habit of rearranging Daniel’s papers, and switching his right glove his a second left one making him form two shields one day. He was also a deadly shot with his shards which caused him to show off by snipping a sash on someone’s robes, revealing the pale glittering skin underneath. The occasional mishap happened to Abigail, until she threatened Absolom in a non-subtle way about what she would do to him if he continued doing that. Though for all his slacking and joking, he had proved a braver man in showing his affection for Abigail.

Daniel and Jessica had seen Absolom and Abigail stealing kisses in an off corridor a few times. Every time Daniel’s eyes had looked to Jessica’s face, yet her face never betrayed anything.

Jessica has been a rock in Daniel’s life. Jessica knew more about Daniel’s hopes and fears than anyone else in their home, and she never uttered them to anyone. Daniel told her of his dreams to lead the hunts to be like Solomon, a silent guardian against anything that would harm the settlement. He told her of his fear before the hunt that he may not return to her… and David, and Absolom. He told her distaste for the old scribbling of scholars on the Old Ones. She had listened patiently, but she rarely gave much back. She never refused him her attention though. Over the years he teased more and more out of her. The way she would sit and listen to the hum of the core as she worked. The way she expose her bare face the biting winds so that she would know the ends of sensation.

He had sat up late nights talking to her never saying what he always wanted to. Part of him was desperately afraid that to tell her that he had feelings for her would end the quiet nights, after the settlement had quieted. When the heating units had lowered and their words had been what warmed them.

Every word unsaid however tugged at his heart and mind. If he was to be the great hero, why was he scared of anything? If he knew that she would always be there why not step forward?

Day after day it tugged, but soon he was whisked off to Roamus and when he returned it was the Harantons that had to be dealt with. Both had become full scholars and had not the time for romance.

Now she was dead, her last act once again allowing Daniel to keep on going. Yet he never knew if her love of him had once turned to the romantic. She did not let him speak the words when he left. Was it because she didn’t want to didn’t want to distract him, or because she was who she was and she would never be what he wanted her to be. Daniel would never know and it was all he could do not to drive himself insane over it.

One thing that kept his feet forward was his duty. He had learned something terrible. He had learned something that the Abbot would think he was insane for saying. The voidshaped could take the form of the people from Onus, or they could possess them. He had to tell this to Lot, and he had to say something even more insane, Solomon was alive. The man who had left Daniel with Isaac and gone back out into the wastes of Roamus to find the voidshaped himself was still alive. He had probably become some puppet of the voidshaped by now, though.

He had to tell Lot, and he had to warn the rest of the Icenians that the containment of the voidshaped was not going as well as they had hoped.

The man looked up from his desk and immediately launched into a tone of voice which told you everything was unmistakedly your fault.

The warmth of self-pity had dripped out and now only icy anger was left.

He looked at the system clenched in his hands and wished it to fracture beyond repair.

And because I forgot yesterday:

He wouldn't apologize nor would he allow himself to be glorified; at the end of the day there was nothing special.

Chapter 6

I realized I didn't post anything on friday so here I am making up for it. Unfortunately I am running out of pre written stuff before Friday, so it looks like I will have to start pounding things out again to keep updating regularly. This is technically still part of Dusdane's tale but Freah has hijacked it and Dion also now in the picture. For now I am calling it Freah's Tale. If I keep this naming style it may be confusing since the next part will be something like Dusdane's Tale Part 3, Dion's Tale Part 3, and Freah's Tale Part 2, So I may just start calling these pieces the "Forytne Incident." Though that name may not be appropriate for very long anyway. The stories that started so seperate just can't help but smash into each other.

Arron was sitting on a street corner leaning up against a post. He had a brownish cloak over his shoulders and a hood covering most of his face. A small tin cup sat next to his foot with a small sprinkling of change in it. His clothes were tattered and he coughed as people passed by.

As Freah walked up to him he raised one unhooded eye to look at her and a smile crossed his face. He lifted the cup up, “Spare some change?”

Freah sat next to him on the corner, after brushing the cup aside. “You sound ill,” she said.

“Just for effect, though forcing a cough may soon tear my throat up enough I won’t have to fake it.” He said the gravel in his voice clearing as he cleared his throat.

“You usually are better than this Arron, why the beggar routine?”

“Well I had a contract, doing security for a merchant from Maedus but his whole caravan got impounded by the Arbitrators.” Replied Arron as he rattled his cup at another passerby giving a dull smile in their direction. “Cheap bastards.”

“I hear a lot of caravans have been having trouble,” said Freah as she attempted to look nonchalant by checking her nails. The attempt felt awkward and it showed.

“I take it you are hoping I know something,” Arron said putting the cup down again and leaning his head back against the post. He looked up to the lantern hanging off the arm of the post.

“A friend of mine had some trouble last night. He too was working in a caravan,” said Freah as she too leaned her head against the post.

“Was your friend badly hurt?”

Freah looked over suddenly.

“No big surprise there was only one caravan let in last night. One from Elayne, word is they got attacked by Judges.” Arron said and turned his head to look at Freah. “Is Dusdane okay?”

“What makes you think he was in that caravan,” Freah shot back.

“There is only one man you’d be out here asking around here for, and I know he comes in with the Elaynian caravans.” Arron raised a hand and placed it on her shoulder. “I take it he was with that caravan since you snapped at me.” He smiled.

Freah looked down, “He was, he is pretty badly hurt. He was trying to leave this morning but I wouldn’t let him. I am trying to find Faecon, the owner of the caravan, if he is even still alive.”

“From what I have heard the Merchant was taken to the Arbitrator headquarters. Good luck getting in there.”

“You heard anything about the man?”

“Just that he came out of that fight untouched, I heard there were maybe a dozen or more Judges that attacked. A friend of mine buried maybe fifteen men today. None were Judges.”

Freah nodded, “He knows how to handle himself then, at least better than Dusdane, which doesn’t really say much.”

Arron locked with her eyes. “That level of skill doesn’t mean he can handle himself, it means he is a dangerous man. Be careful, Freah.”

Freah stood up and dropped some coins into Arron’s cup. “I can take care of myself.”

Arron shifted back into his gravelly voice, “Thank you kindly miss.”

Freah left Arron and began walking to the Arbitrator’s Headquarters. She could ask someone on the outside if they could relay a message or something. She walked through the busy market watching the merchants shout at passerbys. Each trying to sell their worthless junk to whoever was there. A secret of Fortyne’s success was that many of the foreigners only came to Fortyne and one could say something was made on Sikasta and no one would be the wiser. Freah smiled as she saw a couple looking over some fine silk clothes, supposedly Garrenian, but Freah knew that the silk had been made two doors down.

She came to the end of the Market road and was before the Arbitrator’s Headquarters a massive structure of rock and crystal jutting out of the walls of the city. The building resembled a hedgehog with its many spiny spires poking out at odd directions. A tall rock wall had been made to further the defenses of the structure. The building had been built around a large hollow in the wall of the city.

She came to the large crystal arch that served as the entrance. Two men stood there holding ordinary metal spears. The Guard yawned.

“Excuse me, I am looking for a man named Faecon, I was told he was inside.”

The guard stopped mid-yawn. The other gave her a cold look. “We can neither confirm nor deny that Faecon is within. Also we are not allowing anyone inside so his presence is irrelevant.”

“Please sir, I have business with Faecon.”

“Sorry ma’am no admittance.”

“It is very important business,” She said adding something of an edge to her voice.

The two guards looked at each other.

“Quit, being so hardnosed boys.” A voice from within said and out walked a man in a long yellow coat and a hat which seems slightly larger than normal for an Arbitrator.

The two guards turned and bowed slightly from the waist.

“My Lady,” the man in the over-sized hat bowed deeply to her.

“Lyran?”

“Ah you do remember me then,” Lyran said coming up from his bow with a large smile.

“I didn’t know you were…”

“You weren’t supposed to but now you have gone and ruined it and now I have to find another bar, how sad.” His smile didn’t match his words. He looked to the two guards, “It is all right I will show her to Faecon.”

Lyran began walking quickly and Freah sprinted to catch up.

When they were out of earshot from the guards, Lyran said, “The Bar was good cover I would never have suspected you.”

“Suspected me…?” Freah began but Lyran quickly cut her off.

“I mean I was told to keep tabs on your bar but I thought that was simply peacekeeping work. And now you are here to see Faecon, it is all so clear.”

Freah began again, “I don’t think…”

But Lyran cut her off again, “But these are strange times, I am betting all the agents are going to come out of the woodwork.”

“Lyran, what are you talking about?”

Lyran frowned, “Don’t think I am a fool maddam, Faecon tried to play dumb when we first pulled him in as did that other fellow from last night. The Arbitrators aren’t fools, we have as good intel on our city as even you Wraiths.”

Freah frowned. She realized her insistence had apparently pulled her in far deeper than she had intended. But something excited her about this, she was about to find out information that no one else would know. How long she would live after that would yet be seen. At that thought panic rose up in her mind but she willed it away. She had been in tough situations before she would find a way to handle this.

“We have already blockaded the Maeden gate. One hundred Arbitrators are holding it as we speak.” A voice said from the room where Lyran was leading her.

“One Hundred? Then how are they getting reinforcements?” Another, younger voice echoed from the room.

“I suspect they are coming through the Icenian or Haranton gate. A long detour though, they must have had troops ready for this operation.” A third more grainy voice answered.

“We think we can limit infiltration on our side from the Haranton gate but it will be impossible to discern the Icenians and Maeden’s in disguise coming through there. We can’t search them all.” The first voice said, obviously an Arbitrator, Freah reasoned.

“Why not? This is your city’s safety, is it not.” The grainy voice said again.

“It would strangle commerce, and that more than anything will kill our city,” replied the Arbitrator.

Lyran approached and opened the door. It was a small room with glimmering crystal walls. A hole was in the ceiling of the room angled to catch the suns rays. The rays were collected and diffracted in all directions making the room glow slightly. In the center was a stone table on it were maps and papers spread across. There were three men standing there, one in the clear uniform of an Arbitrator, two others in long black coats. The Arbitrator was clearly in the prime of his years, his blue eyes were quick and alert, his hat was pushed back letting brown hair fall across his forehead. Of the two men in black coats one was older, a long scar across split his chin and another cut diagonally across his forehead. The younger man was a head shorter than the other two and markedly younger. His eyes were dark and his hair black.

Freah shuddered, realizing she was in a room with two of the more dangerous men in the Many Worlds, two Elaynian Wraiths.

The older man looked to Lyran and Freah, he raised an eyebrow.

The younger wraith not noticing the new comers said to the Arbitrator. “Perhaps we should contact the Icenians, maybe they can blockade their gate to Maedus.”

The Arbitrator shook his head. “The Icenians are unlikely to be able to help, their numbers are few and they have a lot of territory to cover. No more likely we would need to help them.”

Lyran coughed, the room focused on Freah. She did her best not to remain calm.

“Gentlemen, I present Lady Freah, she has come with business for Faecon.”

The Arbitrator at the table looked at Freah then to Faecon. Faecon shrugged.

“Lyran, why did you deem this necessary to interrupt us.” The Arbitrator said his voice only showing slight tinges of annoyance.

“I thought she was Faecon’s contact…” Lyran began then looked to Freah for help. She stood there for a moment and then smirked that even an Arbitrator could be a fool.

“You have compromised…” The Arbitrator began.

“Nothing, Dylan, Lyran has compromised nothing. You however are about to so calm yourself.” The young man interjected.

Dylan took a breath.

“Freah…” Faecon said for a moment, thinking. “Ah yes, Dusdane mentioned you. I assume you have come here on his behalf?”

Freah nodded, “He wishes to speak with you about the matter of last night.”

Dylan shook his head at Faecon.

Faecon smirked at Dylan. “This is a confidential matter, I should probably speak to Dusdane directly.”

“Dusdane is badly hurt and is bedridden. You can discuss it with me and I will relay it to him.” Said Freah.

“Faecon, you will remove yourself from your caravan and leave Dusdane in charge.” Said Dylan.

“A buy-off, how shrewd,” commented the young man.

“That was the plan from the beginning, Dylan. But I doubt the young man will be satisfied with that now that his life has been endangered. He is not the type to walk away from this.” Replied Faecon.

“How do you know this,” said Dylan.

“Because it is our job to know people Arbitrator,” the young men interposed.

“Dion, you are being needlessly inflammatory.”

Dylan gritted his teeth. “Are you implying that an Arbitrator doesn’t.”

“You know people’s price.” Dion replied.

“Enough,” Faecon said silencing the others. “It was my plan to include Dusdane from the beginning, the addition of this woman is only a minor issue. I am sure she can be of some use as well.”

“Use?” said Freah, she shifted her weight uneasily.

“What use could she be?” Dylan snapped.

Lyran took a step forward. “If I may sir?”

Faecon nodded.

“Lady Freah is the owner of an establishment used by many of the merchants and locals, she has information source at her disposal and probably knows a great deal about the situation already. Given the right training she could use this tool more effectively. Also she is in prime physical condition, I personally have seen her settle more than a few bar brawls.”

Dylan’s eyes widened as he realized what Lyran was saying. “Are you putting forth a recommendation, Lyran?”

“Sir, she also exhibits excellent mediation abilities, she has many of the attributes necessary to become an excellent Arbitrator.”

Freah elbowed Lyran and harshly whispered. “What are you doing?”

“Saving your life, and my career,” he replied simply.

Faecon smiled, and looked at Dylan. “It takes two Arbitrators to recommend a new recruit and it does solve our little problem.”

“Very well, I shall train her personally, since it will be my neck on the line.” Said Dylan not looking terribly pleased with the way things were turning out.

Freah looked at Faecon, “You knew this was going to happen?”

Faecon openly laughed. “Of course not, but I know how to adapt to my situation. Something our good friend Lyran has learned quickly and that Dylan is going to have to learn grudgingly. Had I truly know how this would all turn out I wouldn’t have let Dusdane get wounded now would I.”

Freah thought for a moment, “But you already had plans for Dusdane.”

Faecon nodded, “Well since you are an Arbitrator now,” this elicited a chuckle from Dion, “I can let you in on some information.” Faecon motioned her over to the table were she saw a diagram of the gate system and a larger map of Fortyne City and the surrounding gates. “This is a lot of information I know, but I need you to relay as much of it as you can to Dusdane. Also, you must not tell him that he is being trained.”

“He is being trained?”

“He has been in training since we left Elayne. Wraith’s are trained without their knowledge in the early stages, so we can get a good idea of how they naturally adapt to situations. Eventually we will let Dusdane in on the larger plan but now until I know he is ready.”

“So I don’t get such a luxury,” said Freah.

“Unfortunately no, Sorry you just had bad luck. Think of it this way, at least Dion isn’t going to kill you as you leave this way.”

Dion smirked, “Faecon, you make me sound like a bloodthirsty killer, you’d think I’d kill a lovely lady like this.”

Freah caught Dion’s eyes for a moment and didn’t like what she saw. His eyes were cold and calculating but something else was behind that, a glee in the idea of stalking her like a cat stalks a mouse. His smile widened as she looked at him. Freah felt sick.

Faecon offered no help or consolation, he seemed amused by the whole thing. He went back to motioning at his charts. “The reason for the curfew and increased security around the city is that Judges have been waging a guerilla war against the Arbitrators.”

Faecon paused to let that sink in. Freah used that moment to ask, “what could they possibly gain from going against the Arbitrators? Won’t this just bring the entirety of the Many Worlds against them?”

“According to the Treaty of Fortyne, yes, the Many Worlds should be rallying for a full scale war. Except that the Maedens have declared the group that have been attacking a fringe group, not connected with their government. They have basically said we can exterminate them on our own terms and they won’t lift a finger,” continued Faecon.

“Then why haven’t you rooted them out?”

Dylan spoke up this time. “They are getting reinforcements.”

“Isn’t that proof enough to invoke the Treaty?” Asked Freah.

Faecon shook his head. “Sadly no. The Many Worlds are still tired from the aftermath of the Gates Opening. The wars following have depleted most of each worlds forces. I am all that Elayne was willing to send in support of Fortyne.” Faecon looked at Dion, he said nothing.

Dylan pointed to the Maeden Gate. “We are within our rights due to the Treaty to blockade their entrance, but they are still coming in.” He moved over to the gate network chart. “Maedus however is not only connected to Fortyne but also connected to Icene, Harantos, and Garren. As you know all of these worlds are connected to Fortyne.”

Freah said, “As far as I know none of those worlds have much love for the Maedens, why would they be helping?”

Faecon replied, “We know they aren’t coming through the Garrenian Gate because the Garrenians and Sikastans just fought a long war to push the Maedens out. The connection is probably well defended.” Faecon drew a slash through that connection on the chart. Dylan grit his teeth a little watching Faecon mark on his chart. “Dylan recently saw that Arbitrators were sent to secure the gate to Maedus soon after the incident which started this.”

“Incident?” asked Freah.

Dylan replied, “I was attacked by a squad of Judges while on patrol.”

Faecon added, “This was in response to Dylan killing a Judge.”

Dylan turned on Faecon, “I was within my rights, he had just murdered in cold blood. He was in violation of a most obvious law and would not heed my authority to arrest him and he attacked!”

Dion spoke up this time, “I am not sure how much you know about the Maedens but they view themselves as champions of order. The man Dylan is referring to had just killed a thief. The Judge was acting as Judge and executioner for the crime which most Maeden Judges think is their right and privilege, hence the name.” Dion amusedly added, “You can see how this can cause problems with other forms of law.”

Freah simply nodded.

“Since Dylan is some respects caused this other worlds are using that as an excuse to say this is a dispute between Fortyne and Maedus and refused to get invovled,” explained Faecon.

“That is until Fortyne City is no longer usable,” said Dion.

Dylan added, “Dion has suggested we shut down the market until other Worlds help.”

Freah gaped, “That would be unthinkable, Fortyne City would be unlivable without the trade from the Many Worlds.”

Dion spun a dagger idly on the table, “Sometimes you have to do dramatic things to get things moving.”

“This is not an option the Arbitrators will consider.” Said Dylan.

“But you have already enforced the curfew which is strangling business already,” Freah replied.

“That is a matter of safety, we need to know who is on the streets at night,” said Dylan.

“And yet my caravan still was ambushed,” said Faecon smirking.

“We can’t be everywhere at once,” replied Dylan quietly.

“So then what is the plan, Dylan? What are you planning to do to stop them?” Asked Freah as politely as she could despite her growing anxiety. She wondered if the plan itself would involve herself and Dusdane, as bait. She didn’t trust any of these men. Lyran she trusted, the man was sincere enough.

Faecon smirked, “The Wraiths have stated their plan, but what alternative do the mighty Arbitrators have?”

Dylan’s frown deepened, and lines formed around his mouth. “We need more intel, you Wraiths should be able to help out there. We need to know more about who is in charge. Cut deep enough into their leaders and the rest will be easy pickings if they do not just surrender.”

Faecon nodded, “fair enough. The Judges are incredibly hierarchical, there must be someone here who is directing them. Cut off the head?”

Dylan nodded. He then said to Faecon “I give you and Dion full authority to find out who that is.” He looked at Freah, “In the meantime, you are no good to us as you are.” Dylan spoke this without malice but Freah sneered slightly anyway. He continued, “As I said, you will receive training from me. It will start this evening, go home and rest.”

Dylan turned away from her and motioned Lyran over and began speaking to him, suggesting patrol routes. Faecon and Dion spoke quietly in a corner. Dion occasionally looking at Freah and smiling. For a moment Freah stood there unable to move, trying to piece together what had just happened and what this was going to mean. On the one hand, her old life was gone casually thrown away as she walked in this door. Lyran looked at her his eyes whispering an apology. On the other her life was about to become much more interesting, and she could keep an eye on Dusdane this way. She worried slightly about the training Dylan had in mind but she had handled fights in her past she was sure she could keep up with the Arbitrator. She took a second and realized she was crazy. An Arbitrator was trained to take on squads of well trained soldiers not a bunch of rowdy drunks. How could she possibly keep up.

As she stood there Dylan looked over again, “You may leave Miss Freah. Rest up, you will need it.”

Freah backed out of the room. Dion’s eyes followed her, that smile not leaving his face. Freah sighed, at least with Dylan looking over her she wouldn’t have to worry about Dion. Something about him worried her. She couldn’t quite determine what it was. There was the obvious, he was trained killer who seemed to have taken an interest in her. Maybe it was simply that she no longer had control. Earlier this day she had been in control of her life, today control had been wrested from her.

Freah left the building unsettled, and walked back to her bar. Dusdane, this was his fault, she mused about smothering the wounded man, but shook her head. That wouldn’t solve anything. If anything he was in just as deep as she was, if not worse. She doubted Faecon intended to be kind to him.