InkyRose

They had trudged on for some time. Farah was certain they’d gone in circles as they came upon a marshy spot of water. “Here we are again. Gods, I’m tired of the stench of this place! It seems to be getting worse,” she muttered. “Not another step,” a voice bellowed. Triana the huntress stood at the tree line, she already had an arrow pulled back. The maned wolf had a snarl upon her muzzle. She was joined shortly by Pontz the puma who glared at Torvis, his ears pressed against his skull and he had his falchion ready. Torvis snorted and twirled his blade as Farah backed up slyly. “I said not to move ferret,” the maned wolf shouted. “Are you stu… Gods!” Farah saw that she and the puma both had stupefied expressions on their faces, Torvis turned his head and he too looked horrified. Farah swallowed down a lump and slowly turned her head. A dozen otters had suddenly surfaced from the murky swamp water. They stood there just staring at the four. Something wasn't quite right with the

The first sensation that came to Farah was pain from her throbbing head. The next thing she became aware of was that she was swaying back and forth. She heard the creak of wood and metal and could feel a soft breeze upon her cheek. “Ohhhh,” Farah groaned as she slowly opened her eyes. What she saw was the thing she dreaded most, the thing she never wanted to see; bars. “No. No, no, no,” Farah stammered. She looked around to see she was in some kind of prison cart. Currently they were moving down a country road. Farah tried to move her arms only to find she could only move one of them, the other was shackled and chained to the cross looking bull who lay next to her. The bull was glaring at Farah. “Misfortune befalls me every time I cross paths with you ferret.” Farah tried to shrug and then looked down at herself. Her weapons, tools, and armor were all gone. She only had her loose white shirt and trousers. The bull too had been disarmed and stripped down to only a tunic. “So

Farah the ferret pulled herself through the third story window of the manor house. The house lay on the edge of the city, its best defense was the lack of ornate architecture. Instead its beauty lay in the simplicity. For a skilled thief like Farah it was no challenge at all to break in. Her glass cutter had made short work of the window, and the nimble ferret was soon within the halls. Farah paused to look around. She let her senses grow acclimated before setting out, her tail twitching ever so slightly. On silent feet, the thief cracked the door open of the room she was in and looked about. Only silence and the bare halls greeted her. Quickly, the ferret darted down the hall to the next door and peeked in. She grinned at what lay before her. It was a study with plans laid out on a writing desk. Quickly Farah tiptoed into the room and examined the plans. After confirming they were what she was looking for, she rolled them up and tucked them away in her bag. The ferret’s ears

New Liberty, a hard city to love, an even harder city to live in. Though if you made good money, you were probably better off than most. The old saying still held true even in the future: ‘Money Makes The World Go Round’ The UNIT corporation controlled everything, directly or indirectly. It was UNIT that had divided New Liberty in various districts. The Shuyang district was Atsuko’s home. Atsuko herself looked out across the neon strewn city from the balcony of her highrise apartment, lights from thousands of aircars and ground vehicles flitted below her. She was a dark haired woman with Asiatic features, but that was not the most defining feature. That would be the foxears protruding for her head, or the fox tail above her skirt. For Atsuko was a Kitsune. Being a Kitsune came with a fair bit of blessings, and quite a few curses. Atsuko had lived long enough to see empires rise and fall, and the megastructures that dominated the skyline rise above the old world. It got to be a

Ralph made his way to the large brick building he knew so well. The old factory stood alone and abandoned, the windows held not even a sliver of glass and the walls were layered in graffiti. This building had once produced great feats of industrial might from steam engines of the 19th century, to tanks during the second world war. It was a dangerous place to work and many workers had been killed or injured in industrial incidents. As new safety regulations came about the factory found itself closed becoming a large useless building taking up space. But to many the factory was not useless, the homeless used it for shelter, the graffiti artists used it as their canvas, gangs settled disputes, and the paranormal enthusiasts plied the halls at night looking for something to scare them. For Ralph and many children like him, the old factory was a playground. The large steel pipes were fun to crawl through, Ralph had every piperoute memorized. The aging equipment made excellent jungle

The ever present question lingered in the air as two companions walked through the dim landscape of fields and forests, the sun only ever seemed to cast a gray overcast light, and at night the shadows stretched on into oblivion. Sometimes they found other people, other lost souls damned to their own existence, all with a single minded purpose they pursued doggedly. The two companions weren’t exactly friends, but they were all the other had, most in these godforsaken lands were outright hostile. The hunter led the way as always musket over the shoulder, the wide brimmed hat that had seen better days slouched forward, blades hung from the belt beneath his ragged coat. The Stranger, his gaunt face displaying the countenance of melancholy, he bore no weapons as he trailed behind his hunter companion. “A rest,” The Stranger called. The hunter didn’t reply as he kept his march going. “Please, for mercy’s sake.” The stranger continued. The Hunter regarded him, “Why?” The Stranger moaned

Dawson Hale had lived a long enough life in a dangerous profession he had devoloped something of a sixth sense for when a day was going to be… interesting. The tracarax beetle kept plodding its course straight ahead across the red Martian sands. On the horizon the dark haired man could see smoke. The next town lay in that direction, if he was a gambling man he’d bet a building was on fire. Or worse. The hardened mercenary looked down and undid the peaceknot on his raygun’s holster, his other hand patted the hilt of the ancient Martian dagger that had found its way into his possession. Hale had a strong suspicion he was going to need those instruments of death very soon. Arriving at the town that had been known as BrightSands Hale found the place in shambles. Scorch marks and craters from small explosions scoured the place that had once been a town. Hale had his raygun out as the tracarax kept its plodding heedless of the dangers. A burned general store wall fell to the ground Dawson

lay it all down set my soul free standing here before you laid bare bare before the fear i laid it all down and knelt for you but you took my spirit ripped it from it's cord knowing you well you stole all of me all of my soul my skin freed my bones broken my heart frozen wondering when my life was stolen moved around me kept my shadow but shred the rest of me