Short stories, incomplete drafts, etc

Whatever shit I come up with that doesn't have place (yet) goes here, I'll mark it if it's gone somewhere else.

No guarantee this is the only place, look in storyverse-specific folders for more...

















[DONE][SCRAPPED][Old scene pulled from An Unlikely Bride]
<<<tavern shenanigans>>>>

When he crossed the threshold half the room looked at him, the half that probably should've been paying attention was busy sealing their own fate.

All he could see was bare scales being manhandled by a drunk elf, his fat paws on her, slobbering, sloppy laughter filling the air as she screamed in red-eyed rage. She wasn't alone, in a flash he saw nothing but red and lost control. Somebody tried to get in his way, some dumb jackass standing up to the pillar of carved marble topped with a mane of human fire, he sent them tumbling aside as his heavy boots marched with complete autonomy.

Even if he didn't want to break every single one of those grinning pigs, and he truly did, his body was doing all the thinking for him. This wasn't training, years of technique of a fighting man honed to perfection, this was the primal rage of a man defending his wife. They had picked on the wrong kobold.

Thonvar didn't hear the barman warn him about the establishment's rules about fighting.

Thonvar didn't hear the elf next to him address him.

Thonvar didn't hear much of anything.

What he did hear was the raw, feminine cry from deep in Anza's throat as she struggled. That was all his brain let him hear. It made his body do things, his hands became possessed with violent intent as they gripped the wood. Somebody was in the way, but his arms were strong enough to extract his instrument from underneath, his back stout enough to heave, and with a bloodthirsty roar he brought the log-carved chair down on the corpulent piece of elven shit with a magnificent crash.

It sounded like the gods themselves decided to crack the sky, the room was filled with a deafening *whack!*

Blood gushed from the elf's tubby head as he crumpled to the floor. He did not move.

For a split second frozen in time Anza looked up at her mate and he could see that she didn't recognize him, he had become a different man in that moment; a feral, ravenous beast hungry for carnage. Movement around him made their moment go fuzzy and fade, his body screamed and fought and stormed against his stupid, sentimental brain that made him miss the elf to his left grab his arm. His brain locked on it for a moment before being sent into the next world from a well-manicured fist to his jaw.

Had it been from a northman, he might have been severely hurt. Perhaps knocked unconscious.

Instead all he felt was abject fury.

Yanking his arm hard sent the elf with and made him stumble in front of Thonvar, the golden-eyed mer looked at him sideways with growing terror as the furious northman wound back and bashed his skull into the side of the elf's face.

On the other side was the corner of the bar.

Thonvar bounced off the limp elf with a new enthusiasm brought by the adrenaline rushing into his brain, it made the pain in his head disappear in a haze as the second elf tried in vain to draw his sword.
[DONE]
















[DONE][SCRAPPED][Revised - An Unlikely Bride]
An odd noise echoed from above, it took the human by surprise since he had never heard such a thing before.

Before he could look up the source revealed itself, the muscular frame crashing down to the ground as it's wings folded back. Scales of dark green, shimmering with a iridescent hue in the light, horns of black encircled by swirls of white jutting out from it's imposing head as it reared up to look at them. Thonvar was in shock, he didn't know what to say, was this... A dragon? No. No, wyverns walked on their wings, he remembered the difference. It seemed less hostile than he imagined, but it still regarded him with a ravenous glare and malevolence in it's eyes.

"No! No, please!" Anza shouted, rushing forward with her tiny arms up. "Not good!"

With a mean chuckle it gave sideways glance down at her as it growled, "little kobold make deal, human life for power, this one has come to collect his meal."

Meal?

"No! Not make deal! Anza not like, think--"

"Father is gone, little kobold is now queen of her little warren, but this one will eat a queen if she wishes," he snarled, a wing batting her aside. "No human, no problem for kobold, tasty human for this one's belly!"

Thonvar was not going to be eaten by a poor charade for a dragon, he drew the blade and held out a hand for his spear. Too much had happened for him to perish this way, the wyvern would be taught why it's kind were driven from the Reach.

<<<EXPAND ON FIGHT>>>

Yanking on his blade, Thonvar held the bloody length up to the sky and examined his handiwork. He would need to pay respect to his sword once more, and to the gods, the magic-worked steel had finally tasted one of the higher beasts in all of Anor. Faithful service for so long would need to be rewarded, he would need to think of a good treatment for the blade in his honoring. Gods would be watching as he surely had their attention, slaying a wyvern in combat was an act of religious significance for anyone who still paid heed to the power of the dragon.

However, in the meantime there were more pressing matters to attend to before anything happened.

"'Human life for power' is what he said," Thonvar muttered.

They stood there in silence, he turned around and glared at the entire party of kobolds.

"That beast landed here for me, for *my* life, expecting a hearty meal in a son of the Reach."

Anza's hands clasped across her chest as she stepped forward, "husband..."

"Husband? Yes, your husband, given as trade for your dead father's crown," he muttered, his voice thick with wrath as he stepped forward. "Days and days of travel and you hid this from me."

"No, Thonvar, plea--"

"Days of foolishness, of wasted trust on a thieving, scheming kobold!" he roared, spitting in disgust. "I should have known better than to trust you."

"Please Thonvar! Remember! Remember Anza tell--"

"Remember *what* my dear wife?" he sarcastically fired back. "Lies put into my head? You disgust me, I have never experienced dishonor like this!"

"Anza try protect Thonvar!" she sobbed on her knees. "Please! Please, husband!"

His face bulged with red-hot fury. "YOU BETRAYED ME, WIFE!"

She balled up her fists and sobbed harder. "Anza sorry, sorry, sorry, please remember..."

He kicked her hand off his boot. "Get away from me."

Coldness had seeped into his heart as he looked down at her, at the disgusting, ambitious whore that he had been shackled to under the watchful eyes of the gods. Had he not been so hateful he might have felt sick to his stomach, he thought of a million things he could have done in that moment. A million things to say, to punish her, to lash back at his wife so she would never do this again. What did honor say about this? What were in the unspoken, confusing mess of expectations and responsibilities to guide him in this awful situation? What would his father do? What would anyone do if they were betrayed so callously by an awful, deceitful creature like this?

The suddenly felt heavy in his hands.

Her neck was long, exposed, even her little horns were out of the way as she bawled in shame.

He felt shame too, it made him so angry, so hateful, he wanted the hurt to stop. His fists clenched as he glared at her, she wouldn't shut up. She needed to shut up, she had no reason, no reason at all, to be crying.

"Thonvar..." a voice said, he ignored it.

"Aye, Thonvar, don't. Don't do it. You'll regret it."

She looked up at him with puffy eyes that hardened into fear.

"Thonvar, please!" Khezde called to him, having gotten a bit closer. "Don't."

"DON'T... tell me what to do," he snarled, pointing the sword right at her.
[DONE][AC]

















[DONE][OUT][Unexpected and Unexplained]
Somewhere in the North Hibernic...

They had last made port in Mercia to take on supplies. Since it was 1959 the Mercians were allies and part of the somewhat new Northern Treaty Organization that stood opposite to the People's Union of Socialist Republics, while the ship and the crew belonged to the United Federation of Alderica. Specifically the navy. The Federal Navy to be double specific. Do you know what else happened to be specific?

_Radars._

Thanks to the awesome powers of taxpayer-funded scientific research the navy had mastered the microwave and were using that invisible force to watch the skies for bombers, blimps, birds, and... Baked potatoes. That was the goal at least, to droop down a few wrapped potatoes off the deck into the invisible beam of super intense radio waves that did neat things to the gull population. Two sailors, the navy's finest, carefully lowered their meal and held their breath.

At first nothing happened.

Then suddenly it exploded into a million pieces, showering everything in potato. Jeff almost dropped the mop handle doubling as a crude fishing pole from the startle, Bill was wiping his eyes and moaning in pain. They hadn't expected that shit to go down like that.

"Jesus Christ, pull it up and toss it overboard!"

Jeff was already on it, wrapping the string around the handle and only pausing to sample some of the potato shrapnel.

"Damn that's hot!" he hissed, flinging the pole like a boomerang.

Thankfully it did not come back like he had half-expected, their luck had been that bad and it was partially why they were trying to cook a potato with a multi-million dollar radar system on the most advanced aircraft carrier in the world anyway. Fortunately for the two sailors she was fast and the evidence was gone, the only witnesses were the birds and their escort a half a mile away. They retreated back to their duty station and both men vowed, silently, to never speak of the incident again.

The phone rang. Jeff's arm picked it up without his input and put it to his ear. Bill watched his colleague as an invisible frog danced in his throat, but the performance intensified when Jeff hung up the phone, left, came back, and responded with a mumbled, "Nothing, sir."

They said nothing until they were relieved of their post as scheduled, but that was it.

What the Federation's bravest sons didn't know, couldn't know, was that their misdeed had become something much, much larger than their imaginations could've come up with. Further down in the ship a radarman was watching the fuzzy things on his screen with artificial interest when the potato drooped down. At first the radar didn't catch it, the expensive antenna swept back and forth with regular intervals, the foil-wrapped tuber had descended at the moment when the machine glanced away.

_However_ when it looked back it saw an enormous mass, incomprehensibly huge and so very close, it had shown up out of nowhere and remained long enough to scare the hell out of the entire Combat Information Center who scrambled to identify this thing. Then it was gone. Poof. Not there anymore, like dust in the wind.

Naturally the terminal was examined for defects or malfunctions, but soon enough they determined it was working in perfect order. With such a well-regulated machine and multiple witnesses over the radarman's shoulder, the only prudent course of action was to file a report. Something special had happened that July afternoon, the smart people back at the Federal District would need to be informed and so they were. Paperwork was done up, interviews were conducted, and all of it written down in pen and in duplicate before being sent off in the mail.

Somewhere along the way a Soviet agent would take a peek, copy the information, and send another copy of the copy to Sarova. There it would be examined and deciphered by top experts, the report was treated with the highest level of importance and several top-secret programs would be initiated at the highest level by their esteemed leader. A trailing submarine's crew and captain would be interviewed several months later, aircraft known to be in the region would also receive the same scrutiny. An entire airship would eventually be grounded for scientific study all because some odd dust had been scooped up in an air filter. Those Soviets would take this event very, very seriously.

Meanwhile the original copy found itself in an inch-thick stack on some desk in a basement office of the Federal Defense Complex.

It stayed there for a little over a week.

Then somebody, possibly the person responsible for examining things like this, realized it might've been important and had the folder spirited away to some other basement office desk. Fortunately that desk was cleaner and the person behind it was less of a fat sack of shit. Again the report saw the light of day, walking from one end of the complex to the other, up some stairs, across a hall, up some more stairs, down another hall, through a locked door, through one of those little security door things that you can put papers and packages through, and _finally_ it wound up on the desk of somebody important!

Where it went unnoticed for a day because Colonel Trenchard was out of town.

Finally, on July 18th, 1959 at about two in the afternoon, he sat down to go through his stack of mail. Quick browsing through each one, he had a lot to catch up on. He laughed a little at the mention of cat people spotted at Fort Douglas near Elberton, Sheridan, but when he got to the report about the unexplained radar signature...

He read the whole thing before picking up the phone, the matter had to be discussed in person with General Davis right away.
[DONE][OUT][Unexpected and Unexplained prologue]














[DONE][OUT][Stratocrat intro]
Not so long ago there was a time when humanity wasn't picking up the pieces of the world we broke. A lot of people like to reminisce about a "simpler time" back when, you know, _back in the day,_ there wasn't so much technology and arguing. Not me. I remember those times too, I remember it all, and let me tell you the world we have now is a hell of a lot simpler than the world we had then. A guy couldn't just look after his own without worrying about getting put away for it, like he was the criminal, and that got a lot of good and honest people killed. I grew up with it too, saw it get worse, then a bit better, and then it all ended. Pissed a lot of folks off. Everyone was keeping score of who posted what on the internet and who did this and that, that was how it worked back then, and everyone had their list.

When the world ended it was chaos, the rage good folks felt toward their neighbor and fellow man gave them a thirst for blood. They ate themselves up like animals, all sides did it, and those psychos who lived in the shadows came out to rule as butchers.

That's where I come in. My name's Brett Grigsby and I am the law.
[DONE]














[NOT DONE][AC][Intended for AUB sequel]
There was nothing left, Kedja fell to her knees in a sob.

Loss was the hardest pain for her, only equaled by the shame of disappointing her father. That, too, lashed her as the tears began to fall.



<<write some more here: party got in trouble, Kedja got separated, decided to mope instead of find them/help them>>



"Have you come in need of shelter, my child?"

Steadying herself, Kedja looked up at the kindly old man before her. The sorrowful tears on her cheeks mixing with the first drops from the gray sky.

"Come inside, child," said the priest, offering out his hand. "This is a house for all who need shelter from the storm."

"How did you know it would rain just then?" she asked, entirely surprised. He did not look like a storm mage at all.

"I wasn't talking about the rain," he chuckled, helping her to stand. "Even so, our roof protects us against that all the same. What's your name?"

"Kedja, daughter of Thonvar, chief of my clan and king of Kozaheim. I'm... I'm supposed to go home now."

"Home must be far for you, child," the priest observed, scratching his chin as they walked. "I confess I have never heard of this place, or your clan. ... What are you?"

That was a very good question, she thought. "Kobold, sir. I'm a kobold."

He did not looked entirely convinced, did she dare continue? Would a human feel kinship to her? Or disgust? How could she answer and still have the warmth of this strange temple, of hot food in her belly, and could she do it with her honor intact? Her father would hate her telling lies. Like all Reachfolk he would never approve of the deceit. Those free and proud, who's spirit ran wild with the wind, had no reason to lie because they did not fear the truth. Didn't she promise that she would not forsake her father's blood, nor her mother's clan, for anything? Maybe that was it? Bad luck followed every step as she ran from everything and it brought her ruin. Bones of the ancestor dead would never find rest if they were under the weight of her shameful cowardice.

"Your face tells me you don't believe me, sir," she began, steadying herself. "I am kobold, my mother is Anza. By my father's blood I am of the Reach."

Pulling down her hood she revealed the crimson mane still in the messy braid. Strands of hair fell across her muddy scales, framing her little kobold face and flashing blue eyes. She saw he recognized her for what she was, understanding washing over his weathered features. She was too tall for a kobold anyway, the lie wouldn't have stuck even if she wanted.

"Oh, haha! Won't Brother Caius be interested in you?" the priest remarked.

"You're not kicking me out?"

He smiled again. "Child, I told you, this is a house of sanctuary."

They walked into the main chamber and past the rows of long, wooden seats all facing the same way. Forward. This was clearly a temple of some kind, she knew that much, but what gods they worshiped in the South were unknown to her. There was no place for the smoke to go so she wondered how they burned the sacrifices... She wondered, did they do that down here? Furthermore, what was that chanting?

"Do they not sing in the Reach?" the priest replied.

She frowned. "I'm sorry, I don't know much about my father's homeland... Or this land."

Instead of answering the priest stopped and turned to look up at the largest window the young half-kobold had ever seen. Not only was it quite massive, but it was of all the colors of a rainbow, arranged to form a picture of a woman cradling an infant dragon. Other windows had their own images and she felt a flush of embarrassment as she realized only a fool could miss rows of majestic artwork. Fortunately the priest didn't seem to notice, he stared fondly at the giant transparent woman.

Finally he chuckled and said, "She has only one name, you know. Across all languages, all peoples, the only one to be known by all is the merciful one. The one with endless love for all that was created and all that was before."

"Aera? Then who's the dragon?"

"The dragon is a symbol, my child, even the mightiest beings alive are no different than the weakest to her. Look closer, what else do you see?"

She examined the window as the strange chanting song continued, but she wasn't sure what to look for. She saw the colors, the shapes, the way the characters looked at each other. Dragons appearing to be vulnerable hatchlings would not normally be a comfortable thing for her to look at, but this one was different. This one looked peaceful, the curve of its body nestled closely in her arm near the...

"A ward? I've seen that symbol before."

He smiled. "There is more, I assure you, but this is the way of our lord. A deeper meaning must be found in all things, my child. The choir, what do you think they sing for?"

"That's why I asked you."

"How does their song make you feel?"

That was the thing she had been avoid the entire time, she shook her head and kept her head down. "I don't want to start crying because I'm looking at a window."

"It's not the window that overwhelms, it's what is above and beyond our world. It is the love of Lady Aera, Nara's mystical power, unending wisdom of Anamar... The gods, my child, your connection to them."

"Southern gods? Forgive me, I--"

"They care not for our mortal divisions," the priest replied, interrupting her. "I know your father's people, the northerners, know of sacrifice and duty."

"Yes, Aesmir, the old god," she answered as they continued onward. "This is the first god of the North, all the other gods came from him as he died as their legends say. That's not how my mother's people believe, though."

The priest said nothing as they came to the end of the carpet, only looking up at the largest window of them all. So large it had to be in multiple parts, supported by metal and wood, braced between the stone. Like all the others it featured a scene of some god doing godly things, but this one seemed to stare right down at Kedja. Peering into her soul was a stern-looking man that almost reminded her of her father... Or perhaps he did. They both had the same tortured, battle-hardened look of judgment that made her want to cower and apologize. Whatever problems she had were not good enough, she had to be better, he had worked his hands to the bone for her opportunity to be better.

"Lord Amirun, Amiruel to the elves, is an example to us all and our devotion to his path compels us to remember and honor his sacrifice."

She looked around at all the solemn faces. The choir was visible and she could see that they wore the same robes as all the other priests; they sang with a strangely serene, but expressionless, face that stared straight ahead. Reluctantly she looked up at the depiction of Amirun and she couldn't help but picture her father there. Whatever sacrifice the god had made for her, for everyone, he'd probably do too. He was like that.

Kedja had failed him. She stared into the window and soon was struggling to keep from sobbing again, fighting against the memory of her treachery that seemed like a hot ember in her mind. An inferno of shame over the disgusting cowardice. A true friend would not leave anyone behind. He wouldn't have. She was unworthy of calling him a father.

She was unworthy of the temple, every step she took fouled the holy place.

"I have to go," she croaked, trying hard to keep her composure. "I don't belong here."

"Why?"

"My friends, I--"
[NOT DONE][AC][Intended for AUB sequel]














[DONE][OUT][Douglas Origin/k-theme story]
Suddenly the door erupted into a shower of splinters and chunks of cheap, shitty wood. Amidst all of this was Dave, red-faced and screaming, naked from the waist up and slathered in something slick and chunky. Nobody moved to help him as he tumbled over the chairs, shocked out of their minds they just watched the middle-aged man howl in rage before picking himself up.

"WHERE IS HE!?" he yelled, obviously upset about Ricky's earlier misbehavior. "I'M GONNA KILL THAT SOMEBITCH."

"Now Dave, you know he's just a--"

Dave's eyes bulged out of his head. "HE'S A GODDAMN DEAD!"

Ricky made the mistake of coming out of the kitchen shortly after the proclamation. Dave made a beeline for the young man who, though brave, could only offer weak resistance to the aerial assault.

Air rushed out of his lungs as Dave's girth crushed him against the wall, a sickly, "huuaagh!" followed by throaty coughs. Dave was drunk, he had to be, but he was sober enough to start raining blows down on his poor opponent. Everyone at the bar rushed to haul the furious man up and back, but their attempts were instantly thwarted.

"He's so slippery!" Teddy declared, his goo-covered hands held high. "The fuck is this!?"

Marlena and Alice were at the door, the women screeching at Dave to stop. He did not. Again everyone tried to restrain him, focus shifted on his damp jeans and boots, but he squirmed and squealed like a captured pig until Sam slammed the drunk right on the table. Dave yelled incoherently and lashed out, but his arms were immobilized and he screamed in vain at his downed foe.

"He's high! He's so high!" Alice warned, bouncing from side to side in a nervous fit. "That fuckin' Greg gave him some dust and he went fuckin' nuts."

Sam glared down at Dave. "Why is he so goddamn slippery?"

"The lube barrel, he fell down in the--" Dave screeched again, cutting her off.

"Hold him!" Teddy shouted.

They could not hold Dave down any longer. He sprang up, slick and furious, his pants slipped free past his legs and past his bare feet to reveal his squirming, pale form crashing over the adjacent table. At that point Dave was wild, like a feral animal, he turned around and squatted defensively before running past the small crowd. Hands met him, but since he was so thoroughly lubed he easily escaped down the hall. Each slap of his foot on the smooth floor gave away his location, but he was too quick to catch, too high, and they only caught a glimpse of him straddling a window frame. Dave screeched at them a final time, and then he was gone.

Everyone stood silent and in shock.

"What the fuck just happened?" Marty whispered.
[DONE][OUT]
















[DONE][Homeless]
They brought the disheveled woman into the large, circular chamber first by wheelchair, then by physically carrying her up to the large mechanical device that dominated the room. A passing observer would notice, after she had been strapped tightly in, that it bore a near identical resemblance to a crucifixion save for the position of her legs and orientation of her body. Both of her knees were up, supported in place by a pair of pads on either side while her heels were strapped tightly to a pair of stirrups that left her in a vulnerable position. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, her chest heaving as her body reacted to an undeniable and natural urge. A net was erected below her by the technicians before they abandoned the half-naked woman.

"Good, ze subject ist positioned correctly on ze device," the man in the labcoat declared. Dr. Linus Morgenstern, a controversial figure in his field, was only partly an observer of the upcoming experiment as the true inventors were finishing up preparations to begin. One had completed their list of tasks, the other was manning the control console with his eyes peering over the monitor.

"Ready, honey?" the inventor called out.

"Ready, George!" the incapacitated woman responded, giving him a clumsy thumbs-up.

"Begin ze test."

The pneumatic drive system of the device fired up with a sound not unlike a mechanic's air ratchet and, slowly, the giant steel crucifix began to spin. And spin. And spin.

Charlotte gritted her teeth as the centrifugal pull began to inflict a downward force on her body. Her heart and brain were being monitored by George, her husband, but it was her job to keep it together. This was for science and she was a professional. She would not falter at the eleventh hour, not after all they had gone through to get here, and she would not allow the experiment to end in failure. No. Charlotte felt another wave of effort come and through her gritted teeth she eked out a strangled wail.

Then she felt movement. Some, at first, and then a lot. The pain that came with it was irrelevant as her focus shifted entirely from staying conscious to bearing down in a different way.

"Full speed! We're at target speed!" George yelled out.

Dr. Morgenstern leaned forward as he whispered softly to himself in German, his eyes struggling to keep up with the spinning woman.

"Commencing!" Charlotte bellowed as loud as she could, her knuckles white as she struggled against the restraints. This was all involuntary, she wasn't actually trying to escape, but her body wanted to shift into a more natural position for the final, triumphant, effort that was already on the way. That earlier movement had become quite painful, but it was a good kind of pain, a productive signal she was about to...

George gasped as he saw it. "Release! We have release!" he shouted over the machine's droning moan.

The small and wet being flew free from the warmth and splattered against the waiting net.

"Praise the Lord," he shouted, entirely ignoring the console. "It works. It really works!"

With a shuddering whine the machine began to slow its rapid spin, and over the drone came the familiar wail of a newborn infant. The first, and only, of his kind; those brought into this world thanks to the Centrifugal Birthing Device, or "Die Fötusschleuder" as the press would gleefully call it.
[DONE][Homeless]