Work Blog Back in Progress

I’ve been ignoring this blog for too long.

It’s got a lot of my old work, it’s time for me to get back to work.

Just a Thought or 2…

The problem with video games is the same problem that has hit the literature publishing business, and will only get worse.

Before, decisions about games were largely left to game designers, just like novels were left to writers. The creative force behind games was largely left alone to design the game, without input from marketing and focus group results and current pop culture trends, with some notable exceptions, all of which suffered some serious problems.

The consumer was viewed as someone who had to be lured in, who had to be appealed to and convinced to part with their money. Additionally, the consumer had to be convinced to stay with the company, and fostering brand/company loyalty in the consumer was seen as a priority.

Then the good ol’ Harvard Business MBA guys started getting involved.

Now, video games aren’t looked at as “Let’s make something fun that will blow everyone’s socks off and rake us in a ton of cash” or even “FPS games are hot, lets make one of the those!” but rather…

“According to the paradigm, the first person shooter genre makes 35% more profit for 25% less investment than games from other genres. Additionally, by dealing with the distributors and creating ‘exclusive content’ we can control which distributor gets more sales for the games as well as control preorder copies to prevent us from overproducing. Since the highest earning games contain X, Y, and Z content, and focus groups have shown that too many variables confuse the casual gamer, who quickly gets bored and wants to move on to the next game, include X & Y and make Z slated for additional microtransaction in a game that is exciting, but contains as little new content and original coding as possible to hold down production costs and development time as well as allows us to reap maximum profits in the short shelf-life that the games have, and ensure that user created content ability is kept to a minimum to ensure our monopoly on additional content to keep microtransaction profits up.”

So you have people that look at video games like limited life products, combined with the lemon laws that constrict a lot of other businesses and products not present which allows them to get away with problems that would get a product recalled in other product line, in charge of game development, release dates, and which games get greenlighted and which ones get turned down.

I believe it was the guy in charge of the company that released Guitar Hero who went on record in several interviews stating that he hated video games and couldn’t care less about them except where the revenue stream was concerned.

You’re going to see more and more of rehashing of the same old things, sticking to things that “make money” due to the insistence of people who don’t really understand what makes a video game successful. You can expect to see 4 or 5 more CoD:MW version before you see anything innovative in any other video game genre for the simple fact that FPS’s make money, and the “microtransactions” fit them best.

What does this have to do with the literature field? Simple…

Ever notice that in the past 15 years or so as soon as a popular series comes out the shelves fill with nothing but knockoffs of those books? Even authors who were in the middle of producing other series are often diverted to those popular series?

It’s due to the whole jump on the bandwagon bit with the publishers. Add in the steadily sliding editing in books (Lets face it, the editing in more than a few high end books was sad and laughable lately) as well as rising costs of printing, and you get what we have today.

Now, considering that the same type of people who have done their damnedest to sink publishing by not understanding what makes a best seller and what makes another assembly line novel are now getting into the video game industry, and you’re going to see a lot of the same problems come across.

You’ll be seeing more and more games hit the shelves with only a little bit of alpha-testing done (Beta testing takes awhile, and costs money, where the consumer can be told that the fault lies with their hardware, not the game) and since there is no fair return policy, if you buy it, you’re just out of luck.

You’ll be seeing the same crap come out over and over, with very little to distinguish one game from another.

Game story lines will get worse and worse (The nice thing about FPS games like CoD:MW is the story is pretty easy to pump out there) as writers cost money and after all, focus group results have shown that people are easily confused and we don’t want the gamer to feel stupid, so cut Act II Sec 3 so that nobody feels sad or stupid.

http://50-foot-ant.blogspot.com/2010/11/just-few-thoughts.html

Exploring the Wasteland

 

Tuesday my pre-order copy of Fallout New Vegas unlocked. Due to demands on my time, I wasn’t able to play it until Thursday, so there it was, sitting on my Steam Library page, mocking me.

 

I could hear it: Mocking me.

So, finally, Friday morning, I got the kids out the door with almost unseemly haste, and loaded it up.

Six hours later I surfaced from the retro-1950′s SF world, and went to the modders pages at Fallout New Vegas Nexus and found some files to enhance my experience.

The Caravan Deck fix.
A fix to remove the brown SFX overlay and give back the desert glare and almost pitch black desert nights.
A Jason Vorhees hockey mask.
And of course, being who I am, the nude patch.

I loaded back up my hero, the sniper rifle toting, Jason Vorhees mask wearing, nudist Aveliene, and reentered the wastes.

Fallout New Vegas is an excellent return to the wastelands we became so familiar with in Fallout 1 & 2.

A canon and story progression, times has moved on since your Vault Dweller faced The Master, since his descendant faced the evils of the Enclave, and while this is happening, your Fallout 3 character is exploring the Capitol Wasteland in a search for their father.

So, let’s hit the non-spoiler points, shall we?

Interface: The interface is fairly clean, although it does have a slight learning curve. The main interface is quick to master, since it consists of the WSAD keys, the E key to use things, and the mouse to steer and shoot. Unfortunately the manual and the hints don’t tell you that holding down the R key puts your weapon away, and holding down the TAB key turns on your Pipboy light, but if you played Fallout 3, you know that.

Story: I’m only about 10 hours into the game, with almost no progression on the main storyline. I prefer to search the open almost sandbox world and experience the Wasteland for myself. So far the story is interesting, but to be honest, I’m far more interested in exploring the Nevada Wasteland looking for trouble.

Visuals: The way it looks, frankly, is fantastic. I’ve spent time in Nevada, Texas, Arizona, New Mexico, and the Persian Gulf, so the fact that the desert is starkly beautiful. The ruins are believable, reminiscent of the 1950′s construction and weathered, damaged, and plundered in a believable way. The robots are 50′s chic, the weapons aren’t the streamlined weapons we are used to in other games, but almost crude, except for the normal pistols and rifles, but those are all weathered, beaten, and obviously hammered by the apocalypse.

Voice Acting: Video games have long lagged in the voice acting department, and while New Vegas has better voice acting than many games, I still wish that it had been better. Maybe voices for my character, but hey, it’s a minor complaint for this game.

Backstory: The backstory is what make the Fallout games what they are. In an alternate world, our history diverged following World War 2, and the vision of the future that the more masculine writers of the sci-fi of the 1950′s came to life. Eventually the US, an isolationist nation more concerned with keeping its citizens happy than its presence in the world, had annexed Canada, and hoarded its oil resources while draining the rest of the world dry. Finally the Chinese invaded Alaska, and the bloody Last War began. Then, the Two Hour War, where everyone threw everything they had at one another, and the world ended in fire. Like all 1950′s Sci-Fi, the world wasn’t completely eliminated, and some segments of society were preserved, hence, Vault-Tec and the Vaults. Those who leave the Vaults, complexes designed to ensure people survived the ATOMIC HOLOCAUST so they could rebuild America. But there was sinister plan in there, and I’ll leave that for you to discover.

Game Backstory: Is pretty simple: I’m looking for the man who shot me in the face. There, live it up.

Now, the game has a few notable bugs. First, the spinning head bug, which you can see on YouTube, and a save-game glitch that grustrated all of us until it was patched, and finally the “Caravan Bug” that prevents the cards you buy from being added to you Caravan Deck. (Caravan is a Faro variant, believable and fun, a game easy to learn if you read the holotape but hard to master and requiring skill and craftiness over dumb luck), and a desktop crash that I think has to do with Direct X11.

How good is it?

Here’s some visuals for you!

This is Pre-Dawn at the Nevada/California Border.

Daytime, at the top of the CA border pass. Check out the bomb crater center right. It’s about an hour before noon, and already the glare and heat are up.

Our hero, dressed in her traditional killing garb, with her silenced varmit rifle.

I run a dual core AMD, 16GB RAM, Windows Vista Ultimate, dual ATI Radeon 5000 series cards, and have had no slowdown problems, no lagginess.

All in all, because of the frustrating bugs, and a few other small mission bugs, I rate the game a 9.0 out of 10.

If you have the cash, buy it. Buy it, play it, mod it, play it again, and enjoy.

Welcome to New Vegas. Now gimme all your caps, sucker!

The Black Unicorn (Cont)

“I’m telling you, I don’t want to be here.” Electulu panted, trying to keep up with Aveliene. Her hair was soaked in sweat and her dress was grass stained from the waist high foliage that her eldest sister had led them through. The ground rumbled and Electulu almost lost her balance, bringing a smothered giggle from Aveliene. Sweat covered Electulu’s rich brown skin, glimmering on the intricate and swirling tattoos that had been etched into her skin with a patient and skilled hand.

Where Electulu was dressed like a farmer’s wife, complete with a sun bonnet that was tucked into her sash, Aveliene wore skin tight leathers with thick straps across her limbs. Electulu was only armed with her namesake, the wondrous Brass Flute that her Step-Mother had commissioned for her, but Aveliene was armed with her ever present jackal-man war daggers in her boots and a short sword on her hip.

“Quit complaining. Mother said you needed to come along, and I don’t argue with her.” Aveliene said sternly, turning away from her younger sister and darting through the grass. The small mountain had slowly grown as the two had traveled toward it until it filled the entire sky. Another rumble caused the grass to wave silently, a deer breaking free of the nest it had slept in and bouncing away through the emerald field.

“I don’t like him. He’s a menace and we should just leave him there until the sun burns out.” Electulu said, striving to hide her nervousness.

“Bah, he’s funny, and our little brother.” She paused and stared at Electulu for a long moment while the younger woman caught up. “And you should show him some respect.”

“Yes, Eldest Sister.” Electulu answered, ducking her head.

“Better.” Aveliene said, then darted away again, forcing Electulu to run after her. A silver shimmering laugh sounded from the redheaded Aveliene, and another rumble didn’t even slow her stride through the grass. Electulu cursed under her breath, the voice that had left lords and ladies weeping after an aria, the voice that had brought to life opera after play, the rich melodious voice that effortlessly lifted others to great heights was a rough growl as she snarled words that would have her patrons and fans gasping or fainting in shock.

Another rumble, and Electulu could see a massive figure in front of the mountain, thin lines attaching the figure to the stone of the mountain. As the duo drew closer the figure became more and more clear, a massive bipedal figure clad in jet black armor with red edging. Details became clearer and clearer the closer that Electulu and Aveliene got, the blond Electulu slowing down even as Aveliene skipped forward.

Chains as thick as a ox were anchored to the very bones of the mountain, falling from the rocky heights to sink into the armor of the massive figure, narrowing as they got closer and closer until they were only the width of a blacksmith’s arms. One seemed to sink into the back of the helmet, a pair sunk into the shoulders, another into the wrists, another into the thighs, and yet another pair into the ankles. A massive harness made of blackened steel chain wrapped around the figure, looping over the shoulders, around the chest, around the hips, hooked to a massive ring of polished orichulum.

Electulu shied away as the figure took another slow step, the ground rumbling as the mountain scraped forward another few inches. Aveliene rushed forward and laid her head against the steel clad abdomen, standing on her tiptoes and spreading her arms out as wide as she could as if she was hugging the massive figure.

“So happy to see you, Little Brother.” Aveliene crooned, nuzzling the armor. She looked back and saw Electulu holding back, wringing her hands in front of her. “Quit being a ninny and get over here.”

Aveliene let go of the massive figure, reaching into a small belt pouch, her arm vanishing up to her elbow despite the small size of the pouch. Her arm twisted and she stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth, crossing her eyes as she dug around in the impossible space. Her face lit up and she began pulling hard, her muscles in her arm and shoulder bulging and the tendons on her neck standing out. Finally the mouth of the pouch stretched impossibly and the head of a massive war-axe began to slowly be dragged out from the pouch until Aveliene let the huge axe fall.

It had a blunt hammer on one side, and the arc of the blade was at least a meter. A brutal foot long spike topped off the axe, and the handle was almost four feet long with a heavy steel ball fashioned into an inlaid skull tipping the handle. The lower third of the axe-haft was wrapped in black stained leather taken from the flesh of serial killers lynched by their victims. The upper two thirds was inlaid and engraved, precious metals and gems graven into eye watering runes that glimmered with an inner light. The head of the war-axe was engraved and inlaid, gems taken from the Astral Core, the heart of an Ethereal Plane hurricane, from the gizzard of a cockatrice, and other strange and obscure places. The axe was a work of art, and the medium the axe worked in was war.

The figure chained the small mountain stood upright, the chains falling slack, and the helmet slowly tilted down with the scream of tortured metal. Aveliene looked up with a smile, seeing the twin pools of blood that passed for the eyes of the behemoth chained to the mountain.

“Ahh, you recognize it, don’t you, Little Brother?” Aveliene smiled, looking into the red eyes almost twenty feet above her. “You remember holding it in your hands, don’t you? You remember what it was like to feel its weight in your hands, feel it crunch into those who fell before you, and I bet you remember every spray of blood it tore out of those who you felled to water the wheat.”

At the last few words a deep rumbling growl came from the massive figure that Electulu could feel in her bones, a growl that made the hair at the nape of her neck stand up and urged her to run, screaming into the grass, to run and run until not even the mountain could be seen.

The breeze shifted, coming from behind Electulu and blowing toward the massive figure.

Another growl sounded, and the figure raised its head, the twin pools of blood locking onto the small petite form of Electulu.

Electulu shivered under the weight of the gaze, feeling the hunger that filled the gaze that pierced her to her very core, that somehow violated her and left her feeling soiled and obscenely exposed beneath that bloody eyed gaze.

“Pay attention to me, beloved Little Brother.” Aveliene sang mockingly, banging on the massive chestplate with the pommel of her war-dagger, producing small sounding thunks. The gaze slowly ground from Electulu back to Aveliene, then somehow seemed to intensify as it saw the axe and the woman who was dragging it up with both hands to hold it above her head.

The massive figure’s right hand slowly moved around in front of it, the fingers wrapping around the haft with slow purposeful strength.

“Our Step-Mother sent me, beloved Youngest Brother.” Aveliene cried out as the figure slowly raised the axe head to the level of its eyes.

“Let the Herald of Carnage be unbound!” She cried out, her voice ringing and echoing. She jumped up and slapped the shining ring, and with a crack the ring shattered, the chains slithering off the figure.

“Let the Favored Son of Gor DuMay be unbound!” Another cry, and the chains on the legs fell away with a crack.

“Let the beloved son of the Eternal Elba be unbound!” Aveliene shouted, and the last of the chains fell away.

The figure’s presence seemed to grow, no longer a feature of the landscape but rather a living breathing man clad in the steel armor of the Stygian Wave.

Another growl rumbled from the figure, even as it seemed to shrink, and Aveliene laughed gaily.

“Oh, Little Brother, it is so good to see.” She licked her lips with a serpentine tongue. “How I wish you were for me to dine upon, to slake my lusts upon, but alas, our Step-Mother wishes you to present yourself straight away.”

Another growl made Electulu flinch again, and the figure’s head turned toward her.

“Her? I brought her for you, Little Brother.” Aveliene laughed, then turned to smile at Aveliene, her interlocked white teeth flashing in the sun.

“Run, younger sister, run!” Aveliene said. On the figures waist a belt pouch bulged and a small apricot-pit sized head popped out, the small reptilian head on the end of a long slender neck. The small reptile yawned, revealing razor sharp teeth and a pair of translucent fangs.

Electulu backed up, shaking her head in denial.

The massive figure dropped the axe into the cradle on his belt and took one step toward Electulu, the sound of spurs on stone sounding out.

Electulu broke and ran, Aveliene’s cruel laughter echoing behind her.

“Mother said if you catch her, you can have her!” Aveliene laughed as the massive figure began pounding after the fleeing young woman.

“I hate you, you bitch!” Electulu’s voice floated back to Aveliene, mixing with the redhead’s laughter.

—————————–

Aveliene felt the sun go down, her body beginning to cool down, and started to stir, her eyes opening up. Every bone and joint and muscle hurt but she opened her eyes anyway.

The stone pile was only a few yards away, and she began painfully crawling toward it, collapsing several times.

Finally she managed to pull herself into a small alcove, where she collapsed, closed her eyes, and let her dreams/memories take her again.

The Black Unicorn (Cont)

“I’m telling you, I don’t want to be here.” Electulu panted, trying to keep up with Aveliene. Her hair was soaked in sweat and her dress was grass stained from the waist high foliage that her eldest sister had led them through. The ground rumbled and Electulu almost lost her balance, bringing a smothered giggle from Aveliene. Sweat covered Electulu’s rich brown skin, glimmering on the intricate and swirling tattoos that had been etched into her skin with a patient and skilled hand.

Where Electulu was dressed like a farmer’s wife, complete with a sun bonnet that was tucked into her sash, Aveliene wore skin tight leathers with thick straps across her limbs. Electulu was only armed with her namesake, the wondrous Brass Flute that her Step-Mother had commissioned for her, but Aveliene was armed with her ever present jackal-man war daggers in her boots and a short sword on her hip.

“Quit complaining. Mother said you needed to come along, and I don’t argue with her.” Aveliene said sternly, turning away from her younger sister and darting through the grass. The small mountain had slowly grown as the two had traveled toward it until it filled the entire sky. Another rumble caused the grass to wave silently, a deer breaking free of the nest it had slept in and bouncing away through the emerald field.

“I don’t like him. He’s a menace and we should just leave him there until the sun burns out.” Electulu said, striving to hide her nervousness.

“Bah, he’s funny, and our little brother.” She paused and stared at Electulu for a long moment while the younger woman caught up. “And you should show him some respect.”

“Yes, Eldest Sister.” Electulu answered, ducking her head.

“Better.” Aveliene said, then darted away again, forcing Electulu to run after her. A silver shimmering laugh sounded from the redheaded Aveliene, and another rumble didn’t even slow her stride through the grass. Electulu cursed under her breath, the voice that had left lords and ladies weeping after an aria, the voice that had brought to life opera after play, the rich melodious voice that effortlessly lifted others to great heights was a rough growl as she snarled words that would have her patrons and fans gasping or fainting in shock.

Another rumble, and Electulu could see a massive figure in front of the mountain, thin lines attaching the figure to the stone of the mountain. As the duo drew closer the figure became more and more clear, a massive bipedal figure clad in jet black armor with red edging. Details became clearer and clearer the closer that Electulu and Aveliene got, the blond Electulu slowing down even as Aveliene skipped forward.

Chains as thick as a ox were anchored to the very bones of the mountain, falling from the rocky heights to sink into the armor of the massive figure, narrowing as they got closer and closer until they were only the width of a blacksmith’s arms. One seemed to sink into the back of the helmet, a pair sunk into the shoulders, another into the wrists, another into the thighs, and yet another pair into the ankles. A massive harness made of blackened steel chain wrapped around the figure, looping over the shoulders, around the chest, around the hips, hooked to a massive ring of polished orichulum.

Electulu shied away as the figure took another slow step, the ground rumbling as the mountain scraped forward another few inches. Aveliene rushed forward and laid her head against the steel clad abdomen, standing on her tiptoes and spreading her arms out as wide as she could as if she was hugging the massive figure.

“So happy to see you, Little Brother.” Aveliene crooned, nuzzling the armor. She looked back and saw Electulu holding back, wringing her hands in front of her. “Quit being a ninny and get over here.”

Aveliene let go of the massive figure, reaching into a small belt pouch, her arm vanishing up to her elbow despite the small size of the pouch. Her arm twisted and she stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth, crossing her eyes as she dug around in the impossible space. Her face lit up and she began pulling hard, her muscles in her arm and shoulder bulging and the tendons on her neck standing out. Finally the mouth of the pouch stretched impossibly and the head of a massive war-axe began to slowly be dragged out from the pouch until Aveliene let the huge axe fall.

It had a blunt hammer on one side, and the arc of the blade was at least a meter. A brutal foot long spike topped off the axe, and the handle was almost four feet long with a heavy steel ball fashioned into an inlaid skull tipping the handle. The lower third of the axe-haft was wrapped in black stained leather taken from the flesh of serial killers lynched by their victims. The upper two thirds was inlaid and engraved, precious metals and gems graven into eye watering runes that glimmered with an inner light. The head of the war-axe was engraved and inlaid, gems taken from the Astral Core, the heart of an Ethereal Plane hurricane, from the gizzard of a cockatrice, and other strange and obscure places. The axe was a work of art, and the medium the axe worked in was war.

The figure chained the small mountain stood upright, the chains falling slack, and the helmet slowly tilted down with the scream of tortured metal. Aveliene looked up with a smile, seeing the twin pools of blood that passed for the eyes of the behemoth chained to the mountain.

“Ahh, you recognize it, don’t you, Little Brother?” Aveliene smiled, looking into the red eyes almost twenty feet above her. “You remember holding it in your hands, don’t you? You remember what it was like to feel its weight in your hands, feel it crunch into those who fell before you, and I bet you remember every spray of blood it tore out of those who you felled to water the wheat.”

At the last few words a deep rumbling growl came from the massive figure that Electulu could feel in her bones, a growl that made the hair at the nape of her neck stand up and urged her to run, screaming into the grass, to run and run until not even the mountain could be seen.

The breeze shifted, coming from behind Electulu and blowing toward the massive figure.

Another growl sounded, and the figure raised its head, the twin pools of blood locking onto the small petite form of Electulu.

Electulu shivered under the weight of the gaze, feeling the hunger that filled the gaze that pierced her to her very core, that somehow violated her and left her feeling soiled and obscenely exposed beneath that bloody eyed gaze.

“Pay attention to me, beloved Little Brother.” Aveliene sang mockingly, banging on the massive chestplate with the pommel of her war-dagger, producing small sounding thunks. The gaze slowly ground from Electulu back to Aveliene, then somehow seemed to intensify as it saw the axe and the woman who was dragging it up with both hands to hold it above her head.

The massive figure’s right hand slowly moved around in front of it, the fingers wrapping around the haft with slow purposeful strength.

“Our Step-Mother sent me, beloved Youngest Brother.” Aveliene cried out as the figure slowly raised the axe head to the level of its eyes.

“Let the Herald of Carnage be unbound!” She cried out, her voice ringing and echoing. She jumped up and slapped the shining ring, and with a crack the ring shattered, the chains slithering off the figure.

“Let the Favored Son of Gor DuMay be unbound!” Another cry, and the chains on the legs fell away with a crack.

“Let the beloved son of the Eternal Elba be unbound!” Aveliene shouted, and the last of the chains fell away.

The figure’s presence seemed to grow, no longer a feature of the landscape but rather a living breathing man clad in the steel armor of the Stygian Wave.

Another growl rumbled from the figure, even as it seemed to shrink, and Aveliene laughed gaily.

“Oh, Little Brother, it is so good to see.” She licked her lips with a serpentine tongue. “How I wish you were for me to dine upon, to slake my lusts upon, but alas, our Step-Mother wishes you to present yourself straight away.”

Another growl made Electulu flinch again, and the figure’s head turned toward her.

“Her? I brought her for you, Little Brother.” Aveliene laughed, then turned to smile at Aveliene, her interlocked white teeth flashing in the sun.

“Run, younger sister, run!” Aveliene said. On the figures waist a belt pouch bulged and a small apricot-pit sized head popped out, the small reptilian head on the end of a long slender neck. The small reptile yawned, revealing razor sharp teeth and a pair of translucent fangs.

Electulu backed up, shaking her head in denial.

The massive figure dropped the axe into the cradle on his belt and took one step toward Electulu, the sound of spurs on stone sounding out.

Electulu broke and ran, Aveliene’s cruel laughter echoing behind her.

“Mother said if you catch her, you can have her!” Aveliene laughed as the massive figure began pounding after the fleeing young woman.

“I hate you, you bitch!” Electulu’s voice floated back to Aveliene, mixing with the redhead’s laughter.

—————————–

Aveliene felt the sun go down, her body beginning to cool down, and started to stir, her eyes opening up. Every bone and joint and muscle hurt but she opened her eyes anyway.

The stone pile was only a few yards away, and she began painfully crawling toward it, collapsing several times.

Finally she managed to pull herself into a small alcove, where she collapsed, closed her eyes, and let her dreams/memories take her again.

The Black Unicorn (Cont)

Aveliene whipped her gaze up to the branches above her and saw dozens, scores of little black eyes staring at her. The mottled pattern of the Peeper’s lizard skins made them almost invisible, but their bright eyes, gleaming little sharp teeth, and tightly held little spears were easy to spot. Many of them were licking their chops, and what was normally a loving, trusting look in their eyes was replaced by a predatory hunger.

Without pausing Aveliene took off running, high stepping through the grass.

“Mustn’t step. Mustn’t step.” Aveliene kept repeating, dancing from spot to spot as she rushed across the clearing.

Little holes, roughly the size of a person’s foot, were scattered through the clearing, many of them with sharpened rib bones from small animals or sharpened sticks on the sides or bottom. Several times Peepers pulled vines in front of her feet, intending on having the vines catch on her ankles so she might step on one and fall. Peepers popped out of the ferns and grass of the clearing to throw their little spears which bounced off of Aveliene’s leather armor.

In the branches the other Peepers rushed across the branches, over one another, those who caught up with Aveliene leaping at her. One bit her ear as it stabbed at her neck with the point of its spear, and Aveliene could feel the burning of the venom. Another landed on the top of her head, holding onto one of the small braids, and began jabbing at her scalp. Still another landed on her shoulder, bit deeply into her earlobe, and began digging inside of her ear with the spear, jabbing painfully into her eardrum.

Aveliene snatched them off as quickly as she could, dancing around the clearing, until she neared the ring of berry bushes. Two steps gave her the momentum to clear the bushes, rolling tightly in midair to shed the handful of Peeper that were holding onto her before landing in the ferns on the other side. She felt a few stakes crackle under her boot and gave thanks for the thin steel plates layered into the sole.

“Yum yum!” sounded out from around and behind her, and Aveliene kept hopping, stepping high enough to avoid any sudden yanked vines, and watching her feet to make sure she didn’t step in any more holes. Behind her the Peeper rushed after her and let out warbling hunting cries.

Hunting cries that were echoed ahead of her.

“You have to be kidding me.” Aveliene mumbled, putting on the speed.

“Come back, you’re made of yum yum!” A high peeping voice called out from behind her.

“Yum yum!” all the others called out.

“I’m telling Mother on you!” Aveliene yelled over her shoulder.

Behind her the brightly bronze colored one and a small lean silver one both paused for a second, cocked their apricot heads, then continued with their charge after the Wraithkiller, voicing their warbling hunting cries.

Aveliene cleared the woods and into a grassy feel, repeating her mantra of “mustn’t step mustn’t step” as she kept high stepping through the grass, dodging foot traps, vines pulled up to snag either ankles, and spears jabbing at her ankles. More Peepers dropped on her as she left the cover of the woods and held on tenaciously, jabbing at her with the sharply pointed tiny spears. The venom they used made her skin burn and itch, but other than that it had no effect on her inhuman physiology.

The Peepers from the woods fell back, merely hopping along behind her, while the grassland pack took up the chase, warbling and stabbing at her ankles and the top of her boots with their spears. One brave little Peeper leaped up, grabbed ahold of her belt, and began gnawing through the thick leather, while two others used him as a ladder to climb up her back. Both of them reached her shoulders as she dodged a whole bunch of the small lizard that were holding up sharpened chunks of metal debris. Her hands darted to her back, grabbing at the Peeper who was industriously half way through the thick leather, and the two holding onto her hair at her shoulders reared their heads back and opened their mouths, small needlelike fangs unfolding from the roofs of their mouths. She managed to grab the one at her back and toss it away, but the two on her shoulders bit deeply into the side of her neck, their jaws flexing as they pumped venom into her.

Aveliene screamed as the Peeper venom flooded into her system, stumbling for a moment. Her vision went gray and her heart began to hammer. She snatched the two of them away, leaving bloody holes in her throat that pumped blood with the steadiness of ruptured veins and the pulsing flow of a nicked artery. Once the Peeper left her hand, flying backwards through the air with droplets of venom and blood glittering on the translucent fangs, she clapped her hand to her neck, squeezing tight.

“Yum yum! Yum yum!” sounded out around her, behind her, and she kept stumbling on, driven by instinct, willpower, and centuries of training and experience. She could feel the blood running from her nose, and there were sparks across her graying vision.

She stumbled out of the grass, the Peepers holding onto her ankles and chewing on her leather armor dropping free and quickly hopping back into the grass. Blackened dirt, more ash than soil, puffed up around her boots she kept stumbling forward. She kept moving forward, glancing behind her.

The Peepers were gathered at the knife-edged division of the blackened soil and the grassy field, jumping up and down and waving their spears, peeping in their high pitched voices for the “Yum yum to come back.”

Not willing to take any chances, Aveliene kept stumbling forward, her eyes fixed on a patch of tumbled rock, on a small ruin. She could feel the venom coursing through her body, but at least the holes in her neck had closed. Slowly for her, but still they had closed all the same, meaning she wasn’t losing any more blood.

She rounded the corner of the pile of rubble, her bladder letting go between one step and the next, filling her underclothes with a thick oily liquid. She took a couple more steps and went down on one knee, her stomach heaving twice and then boiling up her throat in a rush. Noxious green bile spattered on the black dirt, her body trying to purge out the Peeper venom before it stopped both of her hearts. Already her primary heart was stuttering, making it feel like her chest was being crushed and shooting pains merged with muscle cramps in her shoulders and down her left arm. She heaved twice more, the last of the contents of her stomach splashing between her hands.

With a moan of pain she pushed herself over, onto her side, away from the puddle, curling up on the dirt and hugging her knees close to her chest and moaning as fire coursed through her veins.

Stupid Peepers…

 

MMmmmm... Yum yum...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nap nap till more yum yum come...

The Black Unicorn (Cont)

Less than twenty minutes run from where the morons had decided to engage a modified Thunder Lizard in combat, the High Roads went from dappled glades and rolling fields into thick forest. The trees were stunted and twisted, the shadows fell menacing, and the wind carried whispers and mutterings that made the hairs on Aveliene’s neck stand up.

Something’s wrong here… The thought snaked through Aveliene’s mind, and she dropped her masquerade in order to let her senses reach out. When she was shapeshifted her senses were slightly muted, limited somewhere between the form she had chosen and her own, limited by flesh she garbed herself in. In her own form, her senses were sharper, her reactions quicker, and the chances she could be caught unaware dropped.

The woman knelt down, poking her fingers into the rich earth and bringing a few grains of soil up to her lips. As soon as the soil touched her tongue she spit it out, and kept spitting for a few moments to clear her mouth.

Corruption. But it’s too early. She looked around her in shock. Her Step-Mother had spent the entire Lich King War keeping an eye out for the Eternal Enemy, watching for his plots and machinations, and hadn’t seen anything that looked like his work.

But the corruption she could taste in the soil could only mean one thing.

The World Ender had been at work in the Kingdom of Laprinious.

Does Step-Mother know? She wondered, glancing around the forest. Of course she does, silly, would she really send her most beloved daughter to some ruined kingdom to kill and ugly one horned mule? No. She mentally chastised herself. You don’t send Fraker the Axe to pick posies, you don’t send the Sterile Queen to perform animal husbandry.

She knew enough about the High Roads to know that just because a section of the High Roads was contaminated that it didn’t mean that the regular parts of the Six Worlds that coincided with that section of the High Roads had been affected.

Still, it was a good seventeen days from where she’d be able to drop out of the High Roads and into the Kingdom of Laprinious. The problem was she couldn’t move around the contamination.

Unlike most roads, the High Roads were both malleable and fixed. While the pathways may appear to change, while one could move from lush rain forest to desert in a handful of strides, what map-makers and most sages who had never spent time in the High Roads did not understand is that the basic paths never changed. Aveliene could not go around the corruption, since a change of direction would lead her down a different path, take her to a different place, possibly even one worlds away from her destination.

No, if she was going to get to Laprinious, she’d have to move through the corruption.

Which meant that it was deliberate. Someone was trying to block access to the ruins of that kingdom, but for what reason, what purpose, Aveliene had no clue.

Maybe that’s what Step-Mother wanted, silly girl. Aveliene mused, standing up and looking around.

Now that she knew what was wrong, she wondered how she had missed it. There were no animal sounds, no buzzing of insects, and the leaves, branches, and grasses that moved seemed to move wrong, not in tune with the breeze.

Her expression went blank, and she stared for a long time at the path in front of her. To get too far off the path meant she would be lost in the High Roads until she found another path or the one she had originally left. She had no choice but to follow the one she was on, since she couldn’t take a path to a place on the other side of Laprinious and then enter the High Roads and approach from the opposite direction. No matter where you were, no matter how far away, the path from one place to the next was the same. Only the Great City of Novak was an exception, but even its roads followed the rules to an extant. To travel the High Roads, one needed to know the landmarks. Each landmark was a days travel from the next. People had tried to move slowly each day, only to find out that it took them longer to reach the landmark. Everyone who was familiar with the high roads knew that each landmark was a days travel from the next.

Moving quickly she started down the road, her normally fluid and graceful movements jerky.

She skipped over that patch of flowers, kicked the tuft of dandelion fluff free with with a toenail as she passed, bypassed that pile of leaves across the trail, leaped up into the trees to run along the branches and skirt that enticing river embankment.

Within a half hour, she was covered in sweat and had covered less than ten minutes worth the ground.

She spotted a huge misshapen hornet’s nest and stopped, her nose less than a handspan from it. She rocked her hips back and forth, trying desperately to regain her balance. A fall to the ground would land her in the middle of an outcropping of rock that had thrust their way up from the loam, and if she fell forward the hornets would react with a savagery.

One hornet climbed out of a hole in the side of the nest, and Aveliene cursed inwardly. It was jet black, with a tiny skull in bright green on its thorax. The stinger was nearly a half inch long, and a bead of dark green venom was glinting in the light. It crawled around for a moment, fluttering glimmering wings, and Aveliene realized that the wings were still wet. It had felt her breath and left the nest to try to dry its wings.

She inhaled and held her breath, her gyrations lessening as he momentum bled away. The hornet crawled around sluggishly, stopping to preen at its antenna, but still Aveliene held her breath as it wandered around the misshapen paper nest.

You’re new, aren’t you? Aveliene asked silently. She’d seen these hornets before, watched as they’d decimated the elven inhabitants of a hiem. The venom would paralyze an elf, and the hornet would quickly burrow up the elf’s nose and into its brain. Alchemical changes would cause the hornet, even a worker or warrior, to quickly metamorphis into a queen. The hornet would order the elf to seek a quiet place where it wouldn’t be disturbed as the hornet went through the change. Through arcane methods the new hornet queen would use the unlucky elf’s own body to begin laying thousands of eggs within the elf’s abdominal cavity. Once they began to hatch, the worker would gnaw huge sores in the elf’s skin, allowing the bees to come and go at their leisure.

Once the new hive had been built inside some unlucky, still living, still aware elf, the queen would command it to return to the nearest elven settlement.

And once there, the hornets would swarm on the elves, each insect out to create a new hive.

The fact that the hornet was living in a misshapen paper hive told Aveliene that this was fresh, that the hornets had not migrated here from some hiem that had fallen to the Eternal Enemy. Rather, something or someone had placed the hornets here to prey on any unlucky elves who happened to use this section of the High Roads.

Moving slowly Aveliene reached behind her, her dexterous fingers easily opening up the small belt pouch at the small of her back. She felt inside for a moment, centuries of practice allowing her to pick the correct token from the pouch. She held it in two fingers, and closed the beltpouch with the other four fingers on her six fingered hand.

She slowly brought her hand around, stopping when the breeze stopped, slowing when the breeze slowed, and moving when the air currents stirred. She reached out to the trunk of the tree and pressed the gently throbbing ruby into the bark, ensuring that the rune was pointing away from the trunk, the symbol for elemental fire pointing directly at the hive.

Just in case. She told herself. She had not survived eons of warfare and assassination work by being sloppy or unprepared.

She moved upward, climbing branches after checking each one for any insects or swollen nodules on the wood, until she was almost thirty feet above the nest. She ran along the branch and jumped to the next tree, slithering down the branches until she could see the forest floor.

From there she kept moving.

Less than an hour of careful movement and Aveliene caught a whiff of heavy corruption that made her stop. She went perfectly still, recognizing the scent as the hunting pheromones of one of the Eternal Enemies most potent weapons.

Reavers. Aveliene hissed internally. She looked around carefully, eyes first, then slow movements that imitated the swaying of the branches in the steady breeze. There.

The six Reavers appeared to be massive bipedal insects, thick pebbly green mottled chitinous armor, four arms, two which were grasping claws, one a fine multi-fingered “hand” with almost a dozen tiny tentacles and “fingers”, and the last one a normal arm with a large “spike” instead of a forearm and hand. The “spike” had perforations in it, and Aveliene knew that when that spike was driven into the body of a living creature, fierce maggot-like worms with chomping jaws would eat into the flesh of the victim. Additionally the Reaver could burrow into the victim with small barbed and pointed tentacles.

Those that were punctured by the spike, living or dead, inevitably became hosts to whatever type of Reaver that the massive insects were charged with creating and sowing.

The insects heads were almost tiny, merely a platform for the massive eyes, crushing jaws, and four antenna that jutted from the forehead. Aveliene knew that the Reaver’s brain, what little of it there was, was located in several sections within the torso. Large nodules of nerve ganglia were scattered about, to prevent a single injury from stopping the Reaver completely.

Reavers were tough. As tough as the Eternal Enemy was able to engineer. The Eternal Enemy wasn’t like mortals, who viewed crushing defeats as the end of their plans. The Eternal Enemy viewed defeats as a way to improve upon his designs, as ways to prevent a defeat in the future.

Unlike mortals, the Eternal Enemy had all the time in the world to engineer his creations. He would be around far after the sun went out.

Aveliene stared at the sextant of Reavers below her. They were busy throwing carcasses into a pile. The leader, identifiable only by its wings and the rows of cyst-like nodules beneath the folded wings, was carefully manuevering each one so that it interlocked with those already stacked. The crackling of bone and the tearing of flesh was audible to Aveliene almost fifty feet away.

Compost pile. Aveliene identified it with a chill. The Reavers, nicknamed “Nannies” by her Step-Mother, would pile the bodies up, then infect them. The gravewyrms would heat the pile of flesh to make it ready for the eggs that Aveliene could see that the leader was carrying. They would have to keep adding flesh, to keep the pile hot, to give the gravewyrms and other catalyst insects that the Nannies would inject into the pile flesh to work with so they could excrete the chemicals that the immature Reavers would need to grow to maturity.

The hornet nests and the other lesser Reavers she’d seen were nothing more than perimeter guards, placed to keep people away, possibly kill them in order to add more to the compost.

From the color of the cysts and the size of them, Aveliene could tell that the lead Nanny was carrying more Nanny eggs.

Aveliene quickly ran through her choices. If she bypassed them, they’d spread through the High Roads, driving living creatures before them and multiplying rapidly. Nannies only needed compost piles until they could build the complex birthing hives, but to do that they would need to incubate the Reavers that could extract metals from living creatures, objects, and raw ore. If she dropped back and told her Step-Mother, more than likely the Eternal Elba would simply send her right back to fight a guerrilla war against the Reavers, which in the meantime would have explosively multiplied. Finally, she could take the only reasonable option.

Aveliene thought for a brief moment, running all the permutations through a six month timeline, then slowly exhaled, knowing she only had once choice.

Her choice was a poor one, if they infected her, if her body’s natural and enhanced resistances could not cope with the infection, she would have to be slain, then reborn. The last thing anyone wanted was for a Reaver to be born from the body of a Wraithkiller, much less from the body of the Sterile Queen.

She drew both of her jackal-man war-knives, inhaled deeply, and dropped down in sight of the Reavers.

“Hey! Over here!” Aveliene yelled, even though all six of them were already turning toward her.

Without bothering to see if they were giving chase, she spun and began running back the other way, back the way she had came. A glance over her shoulder showed that they were following, all six of them giving out eerie hunting cries. A pair of cries sounded from either side of her, and she knew that the sex behind her had called in the rest of the hatching. She had hoped that the other two had been killed, but at least all of them were following her now.

She deliberately triggered the Reavers hiding along the path. The rocks unfolded to reveal armadillos with tentacles on their backs and fearsome insect jaws, the patch of dead leaves erupted into a grotesquely distorted wolf with six legs and a head that was split down the middle to create hideous maw that bellowed out its hunting cry. Along the bank of the river foul creatures covered in moss and algae rose, dripping, from the water, headless creatures with starfish bellies that revealed their teeth and maws as they gave chase. As she passed the bees she gave a mental command and the gem exploded in an eruption of burning acid heavily mixed with necromatic energy, destroying the hornets and their nest. She flipped a gem into the patch of flowers ahead of her, running through the energy and feeling it claw at her innate protections as it incinerated harmless looking flowers that in reality tore at flesh and attached to any creature unlucky enough to wander into them in order to drink their blood.

Another glance back showed they were falling behind, and she dropped another gem, this one a chunk of jade inscribed with necromatic and infernal runes. The wolves triggered the spellmine as they overran it, and acid burning with hellfire erupted, necromatic energy ripping and tearing at the wolves lifeforces. The other Reavers howled in rage, redoubling their efforts to catch Aveliene, disable her, and use her to breed more Reavers.

She could sense the rage and hunger of the Nannies, and knew that the “queen” had identified her, and was encouraging the other Nannies to catch her, that they’d identified her as a prize that was worth exposing all of the ones that would normally lay in wait.

She burst through the forest and into a clearing, where the massive lizard had been, and still was.

Shattered pieces of armor littered the clearing, broken weapons were between its massive feet. The clearing was scorched and blasted from magics, all of it giving mute testimony to the fierceness of the battle.

The gargantuan upright walking lizard had its head slumped down, revealing that the top of its massive muzzle had been plated with black iron plates, that its skull was protected by more of the same. The massive eyes were closed, and the nostrils flared as it inhaled slowly. The metal arms were hanging limp by its sides, blood still smeared across the arcane runes that covered all of the black iron.

The ancient Kobold living weapon had feasted, and now it was sleeping, digesting its meal.

Aveliene swerved, running along the side of the huge thunder lizard, and plunged her blade into the end of the massive toe. Her strength, her momentum, and the enchanted blade all served to sink the war-knife to the hilt and let her drag it the entire length of the toe, over the massive knuckle, and along the side of the foot until it pulled free at the backside of the humongous foot.

She snapped her wrist to flick the blood from the knife as she kept running. Behind her the living weapon exhaled, still asleep, and the Reavers howled out their hunting cries.

Moving quickly and agilely, Aveliene moved up the tumbled rocks that had once been a keep, once again using the saplings to pull herself rapidly up the hill.

The vast sound of the living weapon suddenly jerking awake suspiciously sounded like “Huurrrm?” and Aveliene jumped, clearing the crest of the hill and putting a set of massive stone blocks between her, the living weapon, and the Reavers.

RAAAWWRRRGGGG! sounded out behind her, the enraged pained bellow shook the leaves, loud enough that sound made her ears ring. There were shrieks of rage from the Reavers, and another roar from the living weapon, and Aveliene giggled to herself. Aveliene waited a moment and peeked over the top of the rocks to take a look at the scene.

One of the Nannies had climbed up on top of the giant lizard’s head, but a quick swipe of one of the metal hands snatched it from its perch and delivered it to the waiting jaws. Two chomps, and the living weapon tossed its head back and swallowed. A foot stomp crushed two of the wolves, and a lunging bite scooped up another Nanny.

Aveliene watched as the living weapon, a legacy from a war eons ago that had been released from a vault for reasons unknown during the Lich King War, gobbled up every one of the Reavers, and pounded after the Nanny Queen when it ran into the woods. The earth shook with each footstep, and the lizards bellowing cry, louder than thunder, caused of shiver of fear in Aveliene’s core.

She’d seen one during the Lich King War, released by her Step-Mother from the ancient vault it had been held in statis within. It had routed the opposing army nearly by itself, and unlike the one chasing the Nanny deeper into the woods, that one had still retained its weaponry from the bygone war it had been created for.

She waited a few moments and followed the living weapon. She needed to be sure that it destroyed the Reavers in the area. The Reavers would make the mistake of attacking it, viewing it as food or an enemy to be destroyed, an interloper in their territory. They would keep attacking until they were all gone, and the living weapon would snap them all up like Fraker the Axe and a plate of shrimp.

Aveliene smiled wide as she ran after the relic.

He who does not fight and yet still wins is most beloved.

* * * * *

Sunlight fell into the clearing in glittering golden beams, falling about the woman laying nude upon the flat topped rock and caressing her skin. Her hands drifted down her body, pinching here, rubbing there, caressing at that spot, and lightly squeezing that place. Golden motes danced above her gently parted ruby lips, and perspiration glittered on her rich brown skin like morning dew as she moaned softly. Her deep sea green hair was spread out beneath her head like a fan, with green leaves scattered in her hair from where the leaves had apparently fallen from trees, and her opalescent fingernails glittered in the sunlight. Her deep green eyes were slitted as she gasped again with the intensity of the sensations rippling through her, causing her back to arc, her chocolate tipped breasts thrusting up toward the leaves above her.

Aveliene crouched in the shadows at the edge of the glade, squinting at the woman on the rock. She was looking at the woman’s body closely, looking for telltale markings on the woman’s body. The woman’s nipples were large, and Aveliene could see faint puckerings on the side of her nipples, each indentation filled with a tiny drop of thick clear liquid, and Aveliene knew that each pucker held a small thornlike barbs that would erupt from the flesh to pierce any flesh that came into contact with it, and the liquid was highly toxic, a powerful aphrodisiac and euphoric. The woman’s hand had almost invisible fuzz on her palms, which Aveliene knew to be tiny needles, like found on stinging nettles, that would embed in skin and cause heightened feelings of euphoria and numbness as they dissolved into the bloodstream. That and other small attributes told Aveliene that she wasn’t looking at some lovely hermit or beautiful nature lover communing with Mother Earth.

The woman was a fey.

Aveliene watched the wood-nymph attempt to lure her out of hiding and hid a smirk. Despite what many people believed, fey were very dangerous, enough that even her Step-Mother was wary around them. The nymph knew that someone was near her glade, and Aveliene could smell the rich loam scent of her pheromones even over a dozen paces away. Any normal mortal would be stumbling toward her, stripping off their clothing, their minds fixated by the impressive dance she was performing and by the scent of her, unaware and uncaring that fey like the nymph liked to play with their food.

The fact that the wood nymph chose to lay on the rock and pleasure herself to lure in food and playthings told Aveliene volumes. Something, or someone, had caused the nymph to revert back to a more primal mode. She should have been dressed provocatively, singing to herself, possibly playing a lute, pan-pipe, or harp. The nymph should have been surrounded by butterflies, bunnies, and dragonflies (maybe even with some Peepers watching intently and enjoying the songs, poetry, and stories if she was clever enough), and she should have artfully posed near a body of water. Instead she was far enough from a body of water that Aveliene couldn’t smell any, which meant she was keeping far away from any water-nymphs, pixies, or kelpie’s territory.

Three things could have caused the nymph to revert to a more primal behavior, Aveliene knew. If the section of the High Roads had been abandoned for long enough, without travellers, she could have born and never met any civilized creature, had never lured a plaything in to learn from and indulge herself with, had never had another fey teach her how to properly hunt. But that would have required centuries to go by, and the clearing was the exit point from the High Roads to Kingdom of Laprinious, which meant that either she would have been eliminated, or quite civilized, as Laprinious had only been destroyed a handful of years over a decade before.

The nymph could have wandered from deeper in the High Roads, the more primal areas where not even the halfling’s caravans or the goblin tribes dared go. Or been transplanted from such a region, perhaps her black pine seed could have dropped from a passing caravan just before Laprinious had been destroyed, and she had grown in the last handful of years. But that would mean she would be much younger looking, almost prepubescent, and would be more interesting in frolicing in the forest among the sunlight, leaves, and butteflies. And killing and devouring all who entered her domain.

The other choice was that something had happened where the High Roads bled into the Kingdom of Laprinious, where the two overlapped slightly. Something that would have severely damaged the land, something that would have returned it to a primal state.

There was only one thing that could have done that, and Aveliene prayed she was wrong.

Aveliene knew she had to get by the guardian, and there was nothing within a few days travel to distract the nymph with. She would have to cross the clearing, and that meant exposing herself to the nymph.

She concentrated for a moment, and her armor and weapons melted off of her, seeming to be absorbed by her rich brown skin, leaving her naked at the edge of the clearing. She reached up with one hand and rolled her nipples between her fingers, first one breast, then the other, her other hand dropping down as she parted her legs slightly. Her fingers moved within her folds, rubbing first the top nubbin, then the one at the bottom. After a few moments she slid a finger in with a gasp, rubbing the highly sensitive spot inside of her.

To heighten her pleasure she remembered the last time she had taken her pleasure from the Step-Brother, how she had chased him deep into the Primal Lands of the High Roads, had smashed him across the back of the head with a large rock, knocking him face first into the moss. How she had rolled him over, slamming the rock into his massive heavy forehead twice to stun him, and then how she took him into her mouth. Once he had been hard, she had straddled her and taken her pleasure from him, almost weeping with the way his length and thickness stretched her.

The nymph suddenly sat up, her hands falling to the rock and the leaves in her hair coming with the lush expanse of green. Flowers suddenly blossomed in her hair as she looked toward Aveliene and licked her lips. The Wraithkiller kept watch, remembering how it had felt when she had rolled over and used her powerful legs to drag her massive step brother on top of her. The nymph stood up, gasping, exhaling golden motes as she took first one step, then two, toward the Wraithkiller.

Remembering the feeling of Fraker the Axe driving into her, his growling urgent passion as he took fully, pushed her closer and closer to climax, the nymph coming closer in closer almost in time with her rising orgasm.

Just before she reached her peak, she stopped, stepping out of the foliage and into the clearing.

“Embrace me.” The nymph whispered, her throaty voice husky with lust and invitation. Leaves parted and allowed a beam of golden sunlight to fall upon her, illuminating her in a warm golden glow, the dewdrops of perspiration glistening on her rich brown skin.

Fingers that were covered in dampness from her hidden folds were brought up to her mouth, and Aveliene rolled her tongue around her fingers, coating her mouth with the taste of herself. “Worship me.” Aveliene replied, arching her back slightly to lift her breasts, the sweat that had covered her during her self-ministration glittering. A single drop of perspiration rolled down the swell of her breast, across her nipple, to hang, quivering, from the bud of puckered brown skin.

The nymph inhaled and her pupils dilated as she smelled Aveliene’s scent on the air, the breath from the duo of words Aveliene had spoken laden with her own scent. The nymph groaned, a loud, eager noise, and took another step toward Aveliene. Aveliene spread her arms wide, exhaling long and slow again as she stepped toward the Wraithkiller.

As the nymph approached, Aveliene smiled.

Sunlight sparkled as the nymph fell to her knees before the Wraithkiller, her long emerald hair puddling over Aveliene’s feet. Warm hands caressed Aveliene’s flesh, and the tiny dissolvable needles on her palms embedded in her flesh, causing her skin to light on fire as if she’d just snorted a heavy dose of skinfire. The nymph’s saliva from her kisses made Aveliene’s nerves flare with pleasure.

A low moan escaped Aveliene’s throat as the fey’s questing fingers opened her up and an urgent tongue pressed into her. The fey’s venom did little more than cause Aveliene’s lust to surge.

With a smile Aveliene took the fey down onto the ground.

* * * * *
The forest blurred slightly around Aveliene as she stepped off the rock, and she felt the glade shift slightly, the trees becoming sparser, the grass thicker, and the smell of a stream nearby. She’d made it out of the High Roads without too many problems. Speed, planning, and agility serving her better than an attempt of brute force would have.

Aveliene smiled, concentrated, and felt her armor and weapons appear from the strange not-place they went to when she hid them. She paused for a moment to adjust the armor properly where it was too tight in some places and too loose in others.

A rustling noise in the grass made her pause as she buckled the leather tube around her long red braid, and she looked around slowly.

Butterflies danced over the flowers, dragonflies flitted about in the sunlight, and the glade looked like something out of a painting with berry bushes laden with ripe fruit hedging the glade.

Her stomach plummeted as she stared at her surroundings.

A noise made her look down, where she saw a small reptillian head the size of an apricot pit looking up at her, its bronze scales glimmering in the sunlight and its tiny black eyes staring at her. In the little lizard’s claws was held a small stick, the pointed end discolored by a thick sap-like substance.

“Yum yum.” The Peeper said, looking up at her.

The Black Unicorn (Cont)

(as I said before, stream of consciousness. No editing in Word, no second pass, nothing more than typing right here in the posting box. WIth that said, sorry for any grammar problems or misspellings or anything of that nature, and I hope you enjoy…)

Aveliene leaned in the doorway, taking in the sights and sounds of the great city of Novak. The shimmering heat of so many bodies in the street, the thick odor of animal manure that dropped from the various beasts of burden and lay on the streets before the sweepers could get to it, the combined smells of a dozen different culture’s food all mixed together, and the tang of salt air. She was close enough to the great ports that the ocean air occasionally swept away the rest of the smells.

She was dressed in leather armor, thick leather straps with metal buckles adorning the arms and legs. Her blood red hair was tightly braided and stuffed beneath the armor. The inhuman planes of her face were covered by the plump softness of a human woman, her eyes a bright green and her cheeks chubby. She wore Von-Lon imperial army boots, with a pair of jackal-men daggers tucked into them. At her waist she carried a folding spear and a short sword.

Her work clothes.

Sighing with the knowledge that she couldn’t just stare at the vast teeming mass of city life forever, that she had a chore to do for her Step-Mother, she pushed herself out of the doorway and smoothly moved into the crowds heading for the Great Gates of Novak. From there she could use her own reputation and the reputation of her Step-Mother to have a gate warden activate passage to the wreckage of the Kingdom of Laprinious.

The crowds jostled her as she made her way through the city, taking time to enjoy the sights and sounds. There a merchant was bartering with a massive undead clad in the armor of the Iron Legion. Here a prostitute was leaving a carriage, her hair and silk clothing exquisitely immaculate. Over by that corner as troupe of jugglers and fire breathers performed for the gathered crowd, gathering coins as they plied their skill in return for sustenance. In the air flying mounts swooped, carpets sped, and arcane casters supported themselves with their own power. All of the sights gathered together melded into one huge vibrant example of life that showed that even though the Lich Kings had been thrown down, even though IV and Gor DuMay were dead, life went on.

It was nearly evening, and Aveliene had walked nearly a dozen miles deeper into the city, toward the great mesa known as The Anvil of Novak, to reach the huge emerald field where the Great Gates of Novak hurtled travellers to dozens of destinations within the Six Worlds. She stood in line, humming the ballad from the great elven opera Last Leaf of Summer while she waited, remembering the last time she had performed before an audience in the lavish opera house that was the jewel of Novak Eck’s noble entertainment.

Finally she stood before a thin weedy man, who had combed the hair on the sides of his head across to cover a huge balding spot, and from the scent that Aveliene’s sensitive nostrils could detect he had used herb infused animal fat to keep his hair to badly conceal the fact he was going bald. The man eyed her coldly, thinking she was another sell-sword, or some penniless mercenary hoping to get cheap travel to one of the kingdoms struggling to reassert their authority in some war ravaged land.

“May I help you?” The words of the Second Trade Tongue nearly dripped with condescension, and he lifted on eyebrow imperiously.

“I need a gate to the Kingdom of Laprinious.” Aveliene smiled.

The man harrumphed and checked the sheets of paper in front of him, searching for the cost of a gate. After a few moments he gave up and stared at Aveliene coldly. “There is no service to that location, ma’am, do you have another destination that may be closer as it appears that there is no gate terminus where you desire to go?”

Aveliene opened a pouch and felt around inside for her Step-Mother’s token. “It would not be an active gate, the kingdom was lost during the Lich King war.”

“Then I’m afraid we will not be able to accommodate you.” The man tried to brush her off.

“I’m afraid I must insist.” The token dropped from Aveliene’s hand and onto the man’s desk.

“Despite what you might think, the Gate Society does not…” When his eyes finally fell to the token his pompous lecture ended in a strangled gasp. On the upright side of the token a black rose was held by a white palm, the stem winding around the thumb, the thorn digging into the flesh with little red specks to denote blood.

“I’m afraid I must insist.” Aveliene repeated, pulling the man’s bulging eyes from the token to her own. She smiled widely, letting her camouflage drop enough that instead of the small and even white teeth she would normally show he saw the serrated interlocked triangles of her natural dentation. “I’m sure you understand.”

With a few frantic gestures the civil servant managed to wave over a woman in a white naka-wool robe, the edging and the embroidery on the cuffs denoting a higher ranking than the man Aveliene stood before, the bleached fabric in contrast to the woman’s dark skin. As she approached, the balding man stood up and bowed.

“Is there a problem, Denar?” She asked, her voice cool and professional.

“I’m afraid so, Mistress Uhline,” The balding man said, trying to wave both at the token and at Aveliene in the same movement. Sweat mixed with grease was beginning to run down his forehead.

“How so?” The woman asked, turning to face Aveliene. To her credit only her nostrils flared slightly when she recognized who stood before her.

“I require transport to the Kingdom of Laprinious, to do the bidding of my beloved Step-Mother.” Aveliene said, bowing her head slightly to acknowledge the other woman’s rank.

“Laprinious you say?” The woman’s brow furrowed for a moment. “Ah, yes, I recognize the name.” She sighed deeply and stared into Aveliene’s eyes. “Sadly, the forces that overran the kingdom during the war not only destroyed the gate there, but also damaged the magical weave when the Younger King Xerinies was destroyed.”

Aveliene felt a burn of irritation. She’d spent all day walking to the Meadow of Gates only to find out that she’d have to take the High Roads instead, something she could have done without wasting an entire day. Now it would take another day to reach somewhere that the High Roads could be accessed easily.

“Please understand, we mean no disrespect to yourself or your honored Step-Mother’s house.” The woman said, and Aveliene could smell the fear on the woman that belied the calm words. The man behind the desk was terrified, and the smell of it almost overwhelmed Aveliene’s senses and made it so that she had to restrain herself from leaping on the small man and devouring her.

His fear made between her legs throb in tune with her heartbeats.

“I believe you meant no insult, honorable Gate Keepers.” Aveliene answered, reaching down and picking up her Step-Mother’s token. She dropped it back into the pouch and buckled it closed with one hand, her long fingers working dexterously.

Aveliene bowed to each of them, then turned and left the building.

Behind her both of the civil servants felt their knees go weak as they finally let their fear show.

It wasn’t every day that someone got to deny the leader of the Wraithkiller what they desired and survive.

* * * * *

Aveliene folded her hands behind her head, staring up at the stars. She habitually picked out the important constellations, noting how dim or bright they each were. Her father’s constellation was still dim, except for the newly appeared stars representing the bindings on his arms, which twinkled merrily. Her Step-Mother’s constellation was just as bright as always, with the speckle of stars across her “brow” brighter than usual. She smiled at the sight, knowing that astrologists would be quickly annotating that the Eternal Elba was involved in machinations involving the mortal world.

She’d ran the last three days, quickly bypassing walled towns, fortified inns, and farms once she’d left the confines of the massive city. She’d been over seventy miles into the city when she’d decided to take the High Roads, and it had taken her nearly two days to make the trip from the Meadows of the Great Gates to the five hundred foot wall that surrounded the city.

Now she was camped a ways back from the highway she’d been following, far enough back to avoid being seen by any passerbys, but close enough that it wouldn’t take too long for her get back on the road once she’d gotten a few hours sleep.

The fire she had used to roast a rabbit had fallen to embers, the ruddy glow doing nothing to illuminate her campsite. She relaxed in the darkness, the shifting shadows having less to do with the fires and more with the fact that she’d entered the High Roads earlier that afternoon.

The High Roads were dangerous, even more so with the Lich King War being less than a decade before. The war had gotten desperate and vicious enough that ancient weapons of war had been drawn from vaults, had been brought out from the Astral or Ethereal Core, each side releasing the weapons they’d seized on the other side, and many of them had escaped during the carnage that had swept over the Six Worlds.

The twisting roads of the High Roads led through impossible landscapes, through forests, deserts, hills, and mountain ranges that did not exist anywhere in the Six Worlds, and were dotted with fortifications built to seize control of various sections, with the isolated city here and there founded by those who had become lost in the endless tracts of land.

The High Roads touched each of the Six Worlds, yet existed on none of them. From any point of the Six Worlds one could enter the High Roads, travel for eighteen days, and leave the High Roads at their destination for a total of twenty days of travel. That made it so that anyplace on the Six Worlds could be reached from any other point with only two weeks of travel, no matter what the distance and obstacles between. Before the Lich King War that meant that settlements were scattered about willy-nilly, only in a rare few empires or kingdoms were there highway systems between cities, and only then to connect settlements where it was shorter to travel the normal way than it would be to take the High Roads. Now, since the war, many veterans and former mercenary groups were making a name and carving a reputation for themselves by helping clear the detrius of the war and ensure the safety of the work crews who were building grand highways. The highways of the High Roads were falling into disuse.

With a sigh, half of boredom, half of desire, Aveliene unbuckled her belt and slid her hand into her pants, cupping her crotch with her hand and squeezing softly. She’d been excited by her entrance to the High Roads, but so far nothing had stood in her way, and now she needed to find a way to curb her excitement if she was going to get any rest at all.

She quietly pleasured herself laying next to the fire, the warmth of the coals lapping over her, and she finished with a low gasping moan. She lay bonelessly relaxed, her eyelids fluttering for a few minutes, before slipping into a contented slumber.

* * * * *
“Stop running, it just makes me hungry!” Aveliene called out to the black garbed man, vaulting easily over the alleyway and to the next rooftop. She held a dagger in each hand, and the excitement of the chase had caused the inhuman planes of her face to rise up and replace the decadent softness she normally wore as a mask.

The man ahead of her ignored her, jumping from the rooftop onto a lower one, disappearing from sight. Aveliene grinned, knowing that the man would do one of three things. He would take a chance and jump to the alleyway, providing there was something to break his fall or he believed he could make it without injury. He might keep running across the rooftop, the knowledge that Aveliene was gaining on his steadily gnawing at him.

When she reached off the edge, aiming for the opposite rooftop, which was a good six feet lower than one she’d leaped from, she knew he’d chosen the third option, hoping she was moving too fast to be able to stop herself.

He was standing there waiting, his sword cocked back, both hands holding onto the hilt. His eyes were narrowed in concentrating, the grim lines of his mouth hidden by the black cloth he had wrapped to conceal his face, and his entire body, swathed in a skin-tight black outfit, was trembling in contained anticipation. She knew the man intended on chopping into her before she could get her balance, possibly even going so far as hoping to catch her with a blow in mid-air.

Amateur Aveliene sneered, giving a little extra push with her toes and arcing forward, her hands held tightly. You forgot I’m not some slack jawed mortal idiot, didn’t you?

The extra effort let her sail over his head, tucking into a roll at the apex and twisting in midair so she landed on her feet facing him.

“Oopsie.” Aveliene grinned, licking her lips with her serpentine tongue.

Without a word the man jumped off of the edge of the roof, vanishing from sight. With a sigh Aveliene stepped up and looked down to check which direction the man had gone. He had headed right, deeper into the ward where the damage from the Lich King War had not been repaired yet in hopes of losing Aveliene in the ruins.

Idiot. Aveliene thought, racing along the edge of the rooftop, passing the man who was skirting trash and other debris, and dropping from the rooftop to the street below. Two quick footsteps took her to the entrance of the alleyway, and she pressed her back to the wall, listening closely and waiting.

The man exited the alley looking up, his eyes wild, and ran smack into the war-blade held tightly in Aveliene’s fist as she swung it out and let the man’s own momentum impale him on the blade.

“Looks like you had an accident, Alquezar.” Aveliene mocked him as his eyes bulged out and he screamed loud and long. Aveliene cocked her wrist, twisting the knife upwards in his stomach and using it to support him. He’d exited the alley with enough speed, and she’d added enough force with her swing, that the blade was past the sharpened or serrated edge, past the two inches of dull metal, and the guard was actually embedded in his flesh.

Aveliene stepped in front of the man, smiling at him, the twinkling lights from the magically illuminated streetlamps reflecting in her flat jade eyes. He had dropped his sword to grasp her wrist and was trying to push her arm back to pull the knife from his belly.

“What were you thinking, taking a contract on the diva?” Aveliene asked quietly, although she didn’t expect an answer. “You should know that the fine art of theater is under my protection here in Novak-Eck, and I only I decide which contracts will be filled.”

She twisted the blade again, and he gasped and tried to stand up on his tiptoes to relieve his agony, but Aveliene just lifted the blade with him. She shook her head, staring into his eyes.

“Right about now you’re wondering why that little magic trinket you lucked into isn’t healing your wound for you, aren’t you?” She asked conversationally, tucking the other blade into her belt. She gave him a minute to answer, mocking his inability to speak around the agony in his stomach, smoothing a few strands of blood red hair away from her forehead. “What’s wrong, you diaphragm still hasn’t healed?” She twisted the bladed again, smelling the overpowering fresh excrement reek of punctured intestines. “What’s that? I can’t hear you.”

The man beat on Aveliene’s chest with his hands, raining blows down on Aveliene’s leather covered breasts, the blows growing weaker by the moment. His mouth was open in a silent scream and he was tossing his head back and forth in denial.

“Did you really think that a trinket like that would save you from me?” Aveliene asked, reaching out and brushing the man’s hair from his brow. “Just because it lets you heal from normal wounds doesn’t mean it will save you from me.”

She could feel the tissues knitting around the blade and wrenched it again, tearing apart just healed flesh and preventing the recently healed diaphragm from allowing him to inhale.

“You shouldn’t have ran.” Aveliene smiled, the smile quickly turning into something far worse as Aveliene’s jaw widened further and further. The man’s horrified expression on his brown skin faced realized what was happening as Aveliene’s hand snaked around to grab his hair.

He still couldn’t scream when Aveliene pulled his head back by his hair, exposing his throat and the pulsing veins of his throat. His hands uselessly tried to push her back as the single row of even white teeth in her impossibly widened mouth blurred and were replaced by a triple row of serrated triangles.

“Yum yum.” She quoted, and leaned forward to rip into the flesh of his throat with her teeth. Blood spiced with fight or flight chemicals fountained into her mouth, and his flesh was spiced with hysteria and pain. She relished the taste as she tore free the majority of the soft tissue in front of his spine, chewed twice, and swallowed the huge gobbet. Her neck distended as she leaned forward and bit away his lower jaw and cheekbones, her jaws working as she shattered the bones with her teeth.

* * * * *
Aveliene awoke from the pleasant dream of devouring the assassin when an angry roar shook the ground and made the leaves and branches of the surrounding trees tremble. She went from lying sprawled on the ground to on her feet with her war-knives in her fists in one fluid movement.

She grabbed her pack and slung it over her shoulder without releasing either knife, quickly sliding her arms into the straps and settling it on her back. She ignored the fact that her braid had come partially undone and was outside of the leather tube she normally kept it in,

Another roar shattered the normal sounds of the woods and Aveliene sheathed her knives and took off toward the source of the sound at a dead run. Whatever making the noise had to be huge, and to Aveliene that meant a Horror of War or another living weapon that had been released during the Lich King War.

She leaped over fallen trees, bushes, and rocks, making her way steadily toward the noise. She climbed a large pile of cracked and broken rocks that had probably once been fortress quickly, using her hands to help pull her up the pile by grabbing saplings and pulling.

At the top of the pile of rubble she paused, staring at the scene in front of her before smothering giggles with her hands.

In a large clearing a half dozen men were facing off against a huge upright lizard that stood nearly forty feet tall. Its flanks were armored with black iron that had been fused to its flesh, the small atrophied arms had been replaced by massive black iron arms that were crawling with eye watering arcane runes. In its massive jaws magic flared as the giant lizard chewed on the screaming form of a mage, the huge teeth shattering the mage’s protective magics.

One of the armored men ran forward and shoved his sword between the massive armored plates that had been fused the flesh of the lizard’s belly, then yanked it out and darted back, obviously expecting the giant lizard to react. Aveliene giggled to herself as a long moment passed while the huge living weapon chewed up the now silent mage.

Suddenly the creature made a sound that sounded suspiciously like “Urrr?” then roared, its massive jaws opened and it let loose with a roar of pain nearly thirty seconds after it had been stabbed. The unswallowed pieces of the wizard fell to the ground, and a sound of dismay could be heard from the gathered men.

Good luck, suckers. Aveliene thought to herself, moving back the way she came.

She knew better than to challenge the massive living weapon. It had probably been released to deal with the keep whose rubble she was climbing on, or it had wandered onto the High Roads on its own, or followed someone else on the High Roads and then hung around.

Behind her another roar of pain sounded out, and the ground shook as men screamed.

Idiots. Aveliene mentally sneered.

The Black Unicorn

(This is just stream of consciousness stuff. No editing, no second pass, no nothing, just something to do for fun and relaxation. It takes place in the Six Worlds, following the carnage of the First Lich King War)

The Black Unicorn
Part One
The clicking sound of her heels was the only noise in the hallway, the metal taps set into the sole of the artfully inlaid shoes striking against the mosaic tiles that made up the floor. She passed by tapestries depicting old battles or scenes from myth, legend, and history, statues of people long since dead, and artwork from all over the Six Worlds that was selected more for their meanings than for wealth and appearance. She paid no attention to the whispers and rustles in the shadows of the high vaulted ceiling, ignored the shadowy movements in the banners that hung from thick timber rafters, and was aloof to the way the carving on the visible parts of the walls pulled at the eye and hurt the mind. She stared straight ahead, ignoring the smaller hallways that intersected the one she steadily marched down, her eyes a solid jade green with no whites, no pupils, and inhuman beneath the wealth of blood red hair that framed her face, swept back from her shoulders, and cascaded down her back, held back from her brow by a simple unadorned beaten copper circlet.

Two guards stood at the end of the hallway, flanking a massive door that was roughly hewn into a forest scene, each guard wearing heavy plate armor that had no decorations or spikes upon it, with a simple white enameling coating the heavy steel. Only a single black rose resting in a hand that was palm up on their left breast gave any hint to whom the massive armored forms owed their allegiance to, As the woman approached the two figures they each suddenly took notice of her, their masked faces suddenly turning toward her and a deep purple light burning in their eyes. The woman’s slitted nostrils flared slightly as she was able to smell the faint scents of spice and decay from the duo.

“Who approaches the throne of the Eternal Elba?” One asked. The steel masks the two guards wore were molded into monstrous visages that concealed their actual appearance, making it nearly impossible for most people to know which one had spoken, but the woman’s keen hearing caught the trick of the one of the left stating the first word and the one on the right finishing the question.

The woman stopped three paces from the armored figures, her hands hidden within the voluminous sleeves of the white smokesilk robe wore, and stared at the two guards for a long moment. Her eyes were a flat jade green, with no whites and no pupil, almond shape, and seemed too large for her sharp planed narrow face.

“I do.” She answered, her voice rich and soft.

“Then let us know who you are by your titles.” The two ordered, and the woman barely restrained a sigh of frustration.

“In my Step-Mother’s house, I am known as Aveliene, beloved daughter.” The woman finished the formula.

“Pass, beloved one.” The two figures stepped back to either side of the heavy wooden door. The woman waited, suppressing an urge to tap her foot, until finally the doors gave a deep groan and slowly swung open wide enough to admit her.

Beyond the doors a huge sunlit chamber waited. Columns were carved from granite or marble, shot through with veins of precious metals or threads of gems, their shape graceful and flowing, melding into the floor and the ceiling. From the unshuttered windows high above steams of sunlight fell through the air to illuminate the wide open spaces, to sparkled on the inlaid mosaic tiles of the floors. The pattern of the tiles drew the eye to the far end of the room, where a dais was slightly offset to the right. Atop the dais sat a plush overstuffed divan covered in brushed naka-fur.

Aveliene moved across the throne room, her heels breaking the silence that lay comfortably in the throneroom, moving steadily toward the dais and the figure reclining on the divan with a book held in her tiny hands.

It never failed to amuse Aveliene, the contrast between the reality of her Step-Mother and the legends. The woman’s skin was a rich alabaster, the natural chocolate coloring burned away by decades of wielding arcane power, her hair was a thick lustrous black so deep it nearly hurt the eyes, and her eyes were a rich brown that often sparkled with mischievousness or gleefully withheld knowledge. The woman curled up on the divan reading a book was not the titan the legends claimed, but was rather a petite woman who fell short of the five foot mark, with a lush body and nearly freakishly endowed. Her face was covered with a white ceramic mask, a crack down one side of the face that had brown edges and a deep red coloring in the depths of the crack, and the crimson lips of the mask moved as if they were alive, telling Aveliene that her Step-Mother was speaking.

As Aveliene came closer she could hear her Step-Mother’s quiet voice speaking softly, gently, and the sight of over a dozen small lizards curled up with her, all of them staring at the book, forced a smile out of Aveliene.

The great and powerful Thorn Lord, reading to babies. she mused. She could recognize the tale now, a cautionary tale about trusting strangers. She moved up the dais and nodded to the massive kobold, the raptor-like creature’s scales a highly polished bronze. The kobold, her Step-Mother’s eternal companion (and some believed: soul mate), flicked his fan-like ears in response, opening his mouth slightly in the reptilian equivalent of a grin.

Without asking Aveliene went over and sat next to the divan, leaning against it and letting her head rest against he Step-Mother’s head. Her Step-Mother reached out and gently ruffled Aveliene’s hair, never taking her eyes from the book or the bright water-colours, her voice never faltering.

Aveliene waited patiently until the story was finished and all the tiny little black eyes had closed. She could hear the faint purring-like snores of the baby kobolds in the long moment of silence as Aveliene’s Step-Mother passed the book to the great bronze kobold and then watched the sleeping babies with a faint smile.

“You called me, Step-Mother?” Aveliene finally broke the silence.

“Yes, beloved eldest daughter.” Elba answered, turning her head to stare Aveliene in the face. Without warning the pale woman reached out and pecked a kiss on the rich mocha skin of Aveliene’s forehead. “I’m always happy to see you, beloved one, but I have a chore that needs doing this time.” she continued.

“I’m always happy to do your bidding.” Aveliene said, flushing in pleasure at such an obvious sign of her Step-Mother’s favor.

Elba made a pleased sound low in her throat, smiling gently, and pecked another kiss onto Aveliene’s forehead. “I need you to go somewhere and kill something for me.”

Aveliene chuckled and smiling, the parting of her full lips revealing rows of triangular teeth that were tightly interlocked. “I thought so, Step-Mother.” Off to the side the great bronze kobold Xava made the quiet huffing sounds of kobold laughter.

“I’ve heard something disturbing from where the Kingdom of Laprinious once was.” Elba began, and Aveliene nodded, fixing where the kingdom had been before it had been destroyed during the Lich King War. “Travellers have begun to spread tales of a black unicorn amid the wreckage of the kingdom.” Despite herself Aveliene gasped, and Elba nodded.

“Go to the ruins of Laprinious, find the black unicorn, and kill it.” Elba ordered.

Aveliene bent her head in obedience.

The Peeper & The Honey Pot

There was once a Peeper named Veek who played with his packmates in a field of butterflies, bunnies, and dragonflies, who hid with them in them in the bushes that were full of ripe berries, and played chase with the other Peepers in the bright sun and warm breezes. Unlike his pack mates, Veek didn’t like to share, and liked to keep the yummiest berries and munchiest scrunchiest bugs all to himself.

Where other Peepers would help each other dig up and catch bugs or pick yummy berries Veek would steal berries and bugs from the others and run away to eat them by himself. While others were playing tag or hide and seek he would sneak the yummiest things for himself. While the other Peepers listened to the songs and tales of the grownups and the Matrons, Veek would sneak off to find the sweetest berries and the crunchiest yummiest bugs.

The other Peepers, including the pretty silver Peeper Meepa, warned Veek not to be so greedy. That greedy Peepers had bad things happen to them, but Veek paid no attention. The Matrons and the grownups warned Veek that greedy Peepers had bad things happened to them, but Veek didn’t listen.

Then one day a grownup came by, not with scales and pretty fan ears but a human, who went through the field while singing a tune that made all the Peepers hiding in the bushes sing with him. As the human grownup left, he dropped a pot, and once he was gone the Peepers came out of hiding and looked at it.

It was magical, it was wonderful. It was bright colors and felt smooth and cool to the touch. From inside of it came a wonderful smell, and smell that made all the Peepers gather around and try to see what was inside. Meepa sniffed at the golden shiny stuff that leaked from it, and then flickered out her tongue to taste it.

“It is yummy!” Meepa said, jumping up and doing a backflip. “Taste! Taste the yummy!”

All of the Peepers gathered around the honey pot, reaching in through the narrow neck to scoop a little out and taste it. Meepa warned everyone not to eat too much of it, and the others agreed that such a wonderful tasting thing, the golden honey in the pot, should be shared by everyone and eaten slowly.

Veek did not agree, because Veek thought that the honey was the most wonderful thing ever. While the others went off to play, Veek would sneak back and eat more of the honey. While the rest of the Peepers began gathering up nuts to hide in burrows Veek would stick his head into the pot and eat.

Meepa warned Veek not to each so much of it, told him that the honey was for everyone to share, and tried to tell him to save nuts and seeds because it was getting colder and colder, and that the honey would be yummy when it got cold and the stream could be walked on. Veek didn’t listen, instead just played while the others prepared for the cold. The grownups told Veek to save nuts and dig a better burrow to stay warm for the coming cold. Veek didn’t listen and instead snuck bites of the honey and played by himself.

One day, while the others were off playing and listening to the tales and the songs that the grownups told them, Veek snuck away to the honey pot. He rubbed the smooth colors and pretty patterns, then stuck his head into the pot to taste the honey, but the honey was too far in. Even though he wasn’t hungry, Veek was greedy, and he climbed into the honey pot so he could reach the honey and began to eat it. While the others sang with the grownups he ate, while the others danced with the grownups, Veek ate more honey, and while the others snuggled up to the grownups Veek ate even more.

When night began to fall, Veek tried to climb out of the pot, but found out that his stomach had grown too large, that he had eaten to much. Veek cried out for help, yelled for his pack mates and friends, but nobody could hear him, because the bushes where the others slept was too far away. He struggled to climb out the hole, but was covered in honey and too sticky, his stomach too big to fit through the hole, but nothing helped.

It got dark, and Veek was all alone in the dark. Owls hooted, making Veek shiver. Bats flittered, which made Veek hide in the pot. And wolves howled which made Veek afraid that they would find him and eat him. Crying, all alone, Veek fell asleep in the pot.

That day something wonderful happened. From the sky came wonderful white specks that melted on the tongue and tasted sweet, that turned to water when it touched warm Peeper scales. The specks gathered, laying thicker and thicker on the ground, until the whole field and the bushes were covered with a thick white blanket of snow.

When the other Peepers woke up the exclaimed with delight. They danced, they sang about the yummy white flecks that fell from the sky and how it tickled when it touched their skin. They played tag with snowballs, raced through the snowflakes as they fell, and the Matrons taught them to make patterns in the snow, even Snow Peepers with wings.

Meepa heard Veek crying and went to see if the greedy Peeper was OK, to make sure he had not been hurt during the night.

“Help me! I’m stuck!” Veek yelled, and then began to cry when Meepa ran away.

Meepa got a grownup, who came and saw Veek stuck in the pot.

“Come out, Veek, don’t be naughty and hide in the pot. Others want to taste the honey when they’re done playing in the snow.” The Matron said.

“I can’t. I’m sticky and my tummy is too big.” Veek cried.

“Then your being punished for being greedy.” the Matron answered, and went off to make sure that the rest of the Peepers were still warm even though they were playing in the snow. “Come, Meepa, it is time for you to learn to make fire to keep your packmates warm.”

“You were naughty.” Meepa told Veek, and followed the Matron.

Veek watched the other Peepers play, watched them build forts, watched them dig burrows through the snow, and watched them play tag with snowballs. Sometimes Veeks brothers and sisters brought him snow to eat, so he did not get too thirsty.

“Don’t eat any more honey.” Meepa told him. “Be good, Veek, and don’t eat more.”

But Veek didn’t listen. He got mad that the other Peepers were playing, and so he kept eating the honey. The more he ate, the larger his tummy got. And so he had to watch the other Peepers play in the snow.

Then the honey ran out, and Veek got hungry.

“Good. You need to be hungry.” The Matron told him after letting him eat a handful of bugs.

“It isn’t fair. I’m hungry, why do my brothers and sisters get to eat and I do not?” Veek whined. “How come I can’t have more?”

“Because you must be hungry.” The Matron said, and left to teach Meepa how to make shiny rock soup.

A whole hand full of days went by, while Veek complained that he was hungry, that the berries and bugs that his brothers and sisters brought him were not enough to eat. He kept crying until Meepa went to get a grownup. The Matron told him to lick the honey off his scales if what his sisters and brothers shared was not enough. Veek bathed himself with his tongue until his scales were clean and shiny, even though the sticky honey made him ashamed when he was reminded that it was all the honey he ate selfishly that got him stuck in the pot.

“Break the pot!” Veek begged one day, his tummy rumbling with hunger. He had only gotten to eat two berries and three bugs, and wanted more.

“No. The pot is pretty, and your brothers and sisters like it.” The Matron said.

“But I can’t get out.” Veek said. “I want to get out and dance! I promise I will be good!”

“Then you mustn’t be greedy. If you had not been greedy, you could find yummy to eat, but you were greedy, so now you must be hungry.” The Matron told Veek, and left to teach the others how to find frog eggs under the ice in the stream, how to skate of the thick ice, and how to tell when the ice would break.

The next day Veek saw his brothers and sisters run by, playing with a bunny who hopped and danced for them. Oh, Veek wanted to play with them, he wanted to rub his face on the bunny’s fur. He wanted to play and dance too. He didn’t want to be in the pot any more. He didn’t want to be hungry any more.

Veek wiggled, pushing himself to get out of the pot, scrabbling his little feet against the inside and pushing with his little hands on the outside of the pot.

“Help me!” Veek yelled as silver Meepa and bronze Seevee ran by. Meepa and Seevee stopped and came over to Veek, giggling with the fun of playing with the bunnies in the snow.

“Help me, Meepa! I promise, Seevee, I’ll be good!” Veek promised.

“Will you be greedy?” Meepa asked.

“No. I’ll share. I won’t eat to much.” Veek promised.

“Have you been greedy? Have you been sneaking yum yums?” Seevee asked.

“No.” Veek promised.

“Then we will help. If you were greedy, it won’t work, if you were good, you can come play in the snow with us!” Meepa told Veek.

Meepa and Seevee grabbed Veek’s hands and pulled. They pulled and pulled until suddenly Veek popped out of the honey pot.

Veek was so happy he sang, he danced, and he helped Meepa and Seevee make shiny rock soup.

And every time he felt like being greedy, he remembered how he had to be hungry. Every time he didn’t want to share, he remembered how his brothers and sisters shared with him.

And Veek was never greedy or selfish again, and when he turned into a grownup, he told little Peepers about what had happened to him, and why Peepers should never be greedy.