tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52647131372479783172011-04-21T21:37:54.733-04:00vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.comBlogger251100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264713137247978317.post-67417295842568983642025-05-21T03:01:00.007-04:002008-09-07T06:36:44.276-04:00<br><br /><center><b>Closed.</b></center><br /></p>There are elves, there are guns, and then there are elves <i>with</i> guns.<br /><br />Welcome to <i>Myrmidon</i>, an online serial novel set in a sci-fi/fantasy world. At its heart, this is the story of a small group struggling to overcome the odds. <br /><br /><i>Myrmidon</i> follows a band of misfits as they strive to overthrow an oppressive government. Of course, coups are rarely easy to orchestrate; people don’t always get along and there are usually surprises just waiting for the chance to make everything more difficult. This is the story of those difficulties.<br /><br /><br /><b>Please Note</b>: Merrill Perlman, the Director of Copy Desks at <span style="font-style: italic;">The New York Times</span>, once answered a question on the paper’s policy regarding the terms “sex” and “gender” by replying that “nouns have gender; people, bless their hearts, have sex” [see <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/24/business/media/24asktheeditors.html?pagewanted=all">here</a>].<br /><br />While I may not agree with Perlman, the characters in this story most definitely do have sex. They have sex with themselves, with one or more companions, with males, females, and individuals of indeterminate sex or gender. They do all this during their breaks from engaging in any number of bad behaviors, including murder, theft, and the use of very foul language. This is not a story for the kiddies or for grown adults who are unable to tolerate any of the above. If you consider yourself to be either, please go elsewhere.<br><br><br></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5264713137247978317-6741729584256898364?l=myrmidon-online.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264713137247978317.post-46817946312099903082008-09-07T06:24:00.003-04:002008-09-07T06:35:27.372-04:00Myrmidon is shutting down. <br /><br />The last few chapters have been increasingly difficult to write due in part I think to a flaw in the way the story's been written. It needs an overhaul, with new organization to keep it from floundering around. <br /><br />Unfortunately, that is a project I lack the time and drive to complete at the moment, so Myrmidon is lapsing into a hiatus of indeterminate duration.<br /><br />I apologize to anyone who kept up with the story for its brief stint. If you would like to be notified in the event that Myrmidon returns, please feel free to email me.<br /><br />Thank you and best wishes,<br />Vyli.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5264713137247978317-4681794631209990308?l=myrmidon-online.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264713137247978317.post-21727628917868025352008-09-02T23:43:00.009-04:002008-09-03T01:47:42.053-04:00Getting out from the hover, Doavin thought the air almost felt electric. He imagined the bright transporting space of the Instance would feel similar and wondered if it could have seeped inside the vehicle and stuck its strange magic tightly to his skin. He wasn't sure why, but the idea spooked him, and he moved with the odd gait of one who was over-aware of his surroundings, steps crunching loudly on the gravel under his feet.<br /><br />Sev and Vasil walked ahead of him, Vasil shooting Doavin a sharp look as they passed. Sev was the first to reach the bunker and she pulled out her keys, shaking them a bit as she separated the proper one from the rest of its pack. She stopped when she reached the front door, however, frowning when she turned to face Vasil and keeping her voice in a low murmur when she spoke. “It’s unlocked.”<br /><br />Vasil’s only response was to pull his gun from where it was hidden against his side and offer Sev the weapon they’d pilfered from their attacker earlier. He waited for her to take it before pushing her away from the door and beginning to move inside. <br /><br />The lights were turned off, leaving everything inside enveloped in darkness. Sev toggled the light switch, but the soft clicking sound of the plastic didn't brighten the staircase. She narrowed her eyes, shifting her grip on her new weapon and not turning around as she gestured for Doavin to wait. Then she and Vasil slowly moved down the stairs, keeping the lines of their hips and shoulders against the wall for support.<br /><br />Doavin watched them descend. When he couldn’t see them any longer, he turned and looked back toward the hover. Alone above ground, he felt the hair on his arms prickle underneath the sleeves of his jacket. He made it for all of thirty seconds before he crept closer to the door. Keeping his hand on the door frame, he squinted down into the darkness. He couldn’t hear anyone; neither Sev nor Vasil made any noise. <br /><br />Worrying his lip between his teeth, he finally stepped inside. He counted the stairs as he went down. Step sixteen was the one that tricked him. Steps seventeen through twenty-five went by in a blur. His ankle twisted underneath his weight, and he fell to the floor with a soft cry.<br /><br />Doavin had never been afraid of the dark before, but when he got his wits back around him, he found he wanted nothing more than for a lamp to turn on. Pushing himself back to his feet was messy; his ankle protested and hesitated to carry his weight. Navigating the stairs would be difficult if not totally out of the question, which meant the only place to move was forward. He kept his hands braced in front of him, feeling for furniture. The hard surface of the dining room table greeted his fingertips, and he realized he’d turned into the kitchen.<br /><br />He had just passed the head of the table when there was a soft scuffling sound to his right, and Doavin wheeled around so quickly that he nearly fell down once more. He thought he could hear Sev murmur something indistinct and began to limp in that direction. His fingertips brushed against the wall, and he kept in touch with it as he headed down the hallway.<br /><br />He was halfway between the kitchen and the spare room when he heard the scuffling sound a second time. He turned his head in its direction, froze, and then began to back away. Directly in front of him was a pair of eyes that glowed eerily in the lack of light. They watched him unblinkingly before beginning to move closer. <br /><br />Continuing to creep back, Doavin felt behind him for the kitchen table and used it as a landmark to stay oriented. He would later berate himself for not thinking to grab a knife from one of the drawers, but at that moment he could only think of putting as much distance between himself and the creature as he could. He shuffled backwards, moving into the living area and back toward the stairs to the exit. <br /><br />In the end, his ankle was what ended it. Doavin took a bad step and felt it buckle, leaving him slouched against the wall with tears in his eyes. When he tried to push away toward the staircase, he found his leg would no longer bear his weight at all. He was stranded just feet away from the exit as the creature advanced, eyes announcing its location as it drew near enough to touch him.<br /><br />It did just that, and Doavin screamed, shoving it away and feeling one of his hands come into contact with something wet. He couldn’t hear the pained noise underneath his own cry, but ultimately he wouldn't need to. The lights came on in unison before he had even closed his mouth, revealing Sev who was standing in the doorway, gun leveled in his direction. The "creature" lay on the ground where it had fallen, bleeding from a wound over its ribs near where Doavin's hand had connected when he shoved it away. <br /><br />It was Lars. He was glaring up at Doavin through the hair that hung in his face. “What the fuck is wrong with you people?” he demanded, looking between Doavin and Sev as she lowered her gun down to her side.<br /><br />“We thought…” Sev let the sentence trail off feebly.<br /><br />Lars scoffed, “Like hell you did. Did you even try the damn light switch?”<br /><br />Whatever Sev might have said in response was clipped when Vasil walked into the room holding a small glass bulb. He shook it a few times before tossing it to Sev. “Blown fuse.”<br /><br />Lars pushed himself up from the ground, hand feathering back to his bullet wound. “Fucking imbeciles,” he glared at the three of them as he made his way back to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5264713137247978317-2172762891786802535?l=myrmidon-online.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264713137247978317.post-69696365982641499342008-08-29T23:57:00.002-04:002008-09-03T00:40:03.861-04:00Doavin was wrong about Vasil, but he wouldn’t learn about that until afterward. Before then, he followed his two companions back to the hover, slipping into the backseat and shying away from Sev’s rifle when she leaned it against the cushion next to him. Vasil had settled into the passenger side, and he caught the dingy hat Sev tossed his way, slipping it into the glove compartment as she revved the engine with a wide grin. <br /><br />Neither man seemed to be in a rush to speak, and the silence grated on Sev’s nerves. She fidgeted briefly, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel after she pulled onto the highway. Cursing under her breath, she finally reached out to turn on the radio. “Three of us in here and no one saying shit. I swear the two of you would kill a party.”<br /><br />Vasil targeted her with a steady gaze, leaving her squirming in her seat before he turned to regard the scenery outside instead. Digging in his coat pocket, he pulled out a pack of napkins, freeing one to wipe a bit of blood from the back of one hand. Doavin watched him from behind Sev, eyes flickering from his steady hands up to the blank expression on his face and back again. When he eventually caught Vasil watching him in the rearview mirror, he shrank back against the seat behind him, redirecting his gaze toward the automatic lock on his door.<br /><br />“You okay, Doavin?” He nodded, not lifting his eyes at the sound of Sev’s voice. He missed the look she shot toward Vasil, but caught the sigh that forced itself from her throat. Ducking his head, he seemed to shrink a little more, hair sliding in front of his face and blocking him from view.<br /><br />“You don’t have to always be so damn cold you know,” she huffed several miles later.<br /><br />Vasil didn’t bother to turn his head in her direction. “I’m not being cold.”<br /><br />“Like hell you aren’t,” she shot back and huffed again at his lack of response. The silence carried them off the highway, down several side streets, and through an alley where the Instance swallowed them without warning. By that time, Doavin had leaned his temple against the cool window. His closed eyes blocked the swirling light from view. In front of him, Vasil and Sev stared at it through the windshield, the magic tinting their faces an eerie red.<br /><br /><br /><center>. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .</center><br /><br /><br />“Aeneat? What are you thinking?” Aeneat pulled his arms from his coat sleeves, resting it over the back of his chair before sitting down next to Esme. His eyes washed over the scene framed by the window in front of him, traveling over the soft clouds that forever hovered, unmoving, in the sky.<br /><br />“That they should invest in a better illusion,” he said, rubbing his hand over his face.<br /><br />“Aeneat…”<br /><br />He shook his head, still not turning away from the window. “What are you doing? You know what he is.”<br /><br />Esme sighed. “Aeneat, you’re being—“<br /><br />“But how can you do this when you know what he is?” His voice rose in its interruption, and he finally shifted in his chair, turning and leaning toward her. “Explain it to me. I don’t understand!”<br /><br />“Well what would you have me do?” she reached forward, resting her hand on his knee. “Send him back where he came from? Let him loose in the Lows?”<br /><br />Aeneat pulled away with a fierce shake of his head, “You know full well what I’d do if it were up to me. Unfortunately, it’s not.”<br /><br />Esme frowned, straightening as she withdrew the touch from his leg. “You’re forgetting where you come from, Aeneat.”<br /><br />He laughed as he stood. “No, I’m <i>remembering</i> where we both come from, Esme. That’s the problem,” He stood there in silence for a moment longer before shaking his head once more, plucking his coat from the chair back. “You’re going to regret this. And I’m going to regret standing by you on it.”<br /><br />“You know your options.” Aeneat stared down at her for a long moment before turning around stalking to the exit, door closing solidly behind him. Esme watched him leave before turning back around in her chair, waiting for the nurse to call her in to see her brother.<br /><br /><br><br><p align="right"><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/09/chapter-sixteen.html">next chapter</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5264713137247978317-6969636598264149934?l=myrmidon-online.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264713137247978317.post-9051008559825814382008-08-26T23:20:00.005-04:002008-08-30T00:11:18.223-04:00The man was only a few yards away, his small handgun unwavering as it pointed at Sev’s chest. His eyes targeted her just as steadily, eyebrow arching when she hesitated. “Drop it,” he said, raising his voice slightly in command.<br /><br />Sev looked at Doavin from the corner of her eyes, but if she was sending him a message it was one that he couldn’t decode. She frowned as she finally bent down, crouching to set the gun on the ground in front of her.<br /><br />“Good,” said the gunman. “Now both of you put your hands behind your heads.”<br /><br />Doavin moved to do so immediately, but Sev was less cooperative. “No way. How do I know you aren’t going to just pick us off executioner style?”<br /><br />“You don’t,” his voice dipped dangerously. “But you’re trying my patience. Do it or I’ll shoot you now!”<br /><br />Sev’s hands went behind her head while she glared daggers in the man’s direction. He seemed unfazed by her animosity, his voice losing some of its hostility. “Thank you. Now start walking.”<br /><br />“What?” asked Sev, incredulous despite the fact that she had already begun to move forward. “What the hell?”<br /><br />The man smiled despite the fact that no one could see ithe expression. “Since you’re both so fond of the roadway, I think it’s time you got a closer look at it.”<br /><br />“Yeah well, I don’t need your little tour. I know the damn road pretty fucking well.”<br /><br />He laughed, shaking his head. “I’m positive you’ve never seen it from this angle. Turn left.”<br /><br />Doavin turned and came face to face with the overpass’ guardrail, stopping short. The road remained filled with the accident, but he was rather sure the hovers would provide little cushion for their fall. As he stood there looking beneath them, it became clear that was exactly the point. Sev had apparently come to the same conclusion if the volume of her voice was a sign of anything.<br /><br />“Oh, fuck no!” Sev wheeled her body around to face him. “I’m not about to just waltz over the damn railing! You’re gonna have to kill me yourself.”<br /><br />"Fine," said the man, smiling as he tightened his finger around the trigger. <br /><br />There was the loud crack of a gunshot, and Doavin toward Sev in horror. It took him a moment to realize she wasn’t bleeding. He looked down at his torso, exhaling a relieved sigh when he saw no stain spreading across his own chest. When he raised his head it was to stare at the gunman in confusion. <br /><br />The man swayed on his feet for a moment and then dropped to his knees, gun skidding away from him and freeing his hand to press against his stomach. Doavin watched as he tried and failed to get up from where he had fallen, struggling like a wounded animal that needed to be put out of its misery. His eyes were pulled upward only by the soft crunch of gravel a few meters away.<br /><br />The tall figure that appeared behind the felled gunman was grim, dark eyes squinting down at his victim. Then he lifted his own gun in a sure arm and pulled the trigger, not reacting at the splatter that splashed across his legs. When he looked up, his eyes trained themselves on Doavin, and Doavin wondered if he was going to die up there after all. <br /><br />“Piece of cake!” Sev explained, ignoring the bloody body in favor of running to the newcomer and giving him a peck on the cheek. “Never say my sister’s the only one who can make a good distraction!”<br /><br />His eyes seemed to soften briefly, but then he shook his head. “Unnecessary.”<br /><br />“Oh, whatever. Not like that many people died,” she grinned as she clasped his shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze. “Hey Doavin! Do me a favor and grab that gun from over there. No use wasting a good weapon.”<br /><br />Doavin moved slowly, giving the dead body a wide girth and keeping his eyes on Sev’s friend. The pistol felt warm and heavy when he picked it up, and he held it uncertainly until the man reached his hand out to claim it. They stared at each other for a moment in silence, <br /><br />“Doavin,” smiled Sev, “ Meet Vasil. Vasil, this is Doavin. He’s working with us now!”<br /><br />Vasil didn’t speak, and Doavin felt his face flush in awkward embarrassment. He looked down, pulling his sleeves over his fingers. He watched Vasil’s knees turn toward Sev as she brushed a kiss to his cheek and began pulling him toward the car. Then Doavin’s eyes widened. <br /><br />Peeking from beneath the hem of Vasil’s trench coat were several white feathers. The odd drape of the garment confirmed it: he had wings.<br /><br /><br><br><p align="right"><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/08/chapter-fifteen.html">next chapter</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5264713137247978317-905100855982581438?l=myrmidon-online.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264713137247978317.post-58223805546583054822008-07-05T14:52:00.006-04:002008-08-30T00:11:44.463-04:00<br><br />They pulled off the highway a full thirty minutes later, traveling the side roads for several miles before turning onto a high overpass surrounded by bright warning signs. Sev reached over Doavin’s knees, popping the glove compartment and pulling out a dingy-looking gray hat. She tucked her neon hair inside and left the engine running as she stepped out of the hover.<br /><br />“Careful,” she warned, reaching into the back seat. “They haven’t finished building this yet. Bit rickety.”<br /><br />Doavin nodded, shutting the passenger door as he stepped outside. It was dark and windy, and he raised his head, looking up with a frown. The same grayness he had seen in the Lows stretched over them here. From this high up he could see that it was actually comprised of large slabs of dull metal, bolts holding them together at the seams. The wind that continually blew his hair into his eyes was caused by the fans that whirled steadfastedly every half kilometer or so. They filled the air with a low hum and the thick dust from their blades.<br /><br />When he looked back to the hover, Sev had already moved away, walking down the street with a long rifle slung over her shoulder. He jogged to catch up, brows furrowed. She didn’t seem to notice the ceiling over them, ignoring the few tendrils of hair that had escaped her cap to fly about her face. Crouching behind one of the low guard walls, her fingers scratched at the mortar between two of the stones, nails plucking at a row of small rocks stuck in the paste. They eventually popped out into her palm, leaving a narrow window in their place, and she rested the tip of her rifle inside.<br /><br />“Soon,” she said, gazing at her watch. “Very, very soon.” Doavin wanted to ask what she was talking about, but the tug on his pants leg surprised him into silence. “Crouch down, doll,” Sev hadn’t lifted her head from the view of her gun. “Wouldn’t want to have anyone see you up here, would we?”<br /><br />He obliged, then peering through the strip of air in search of Sev's target. He could see the highway below, oncoming traffic moving with surprising rapidity. He guessed the target was supposed to drive beneath them, but he found the odds of her shooting someone from where they were unlikely at best.<br /><br />Sev seemed determined to prove him wrong by the way she shifted behind her gun, finger closing in on the trigger. For all his searching, Doavin couldn't gage her aim before the gun recoiled with a soft pop. <br /><br />She only fired once, but it was enough. The bullet pierced a large transport hover’s windshield, leaving spider webs in its wake and hitting the driver above his left eye. He slumped to the side, held in his seat by the safety belt strapped over his shoulder. The transport continued on a straight course for a few seconds. Then the state of the elf behind the wheel finally registered, leaving the hover swerving to the right across three lanes of traffic. A second vehicle turned sharply, barely avoiding an accident, but the ones behind it were less fortunate. Doavin watched, wide eyed, as they collided with the sound of forced breaks and crunching metal followed shortly by the high pitched squeal of the hovers’ underbellies skidding over the pavement. <br /><br />He looked over at Sev as the smell of fuel began to waft up to them, mouth slightly agape. Her eyes were trained on the hovers below them, impassive gaze taking in the more fortunate victims as they struggled to get out of their wrecks. When Doavin touched his fingertips to her forearm, she turned to him with a soft smile that was completely at odds with the scene she had caused below. “Piece of cake,” she said, finally lowering her rifle and pushing herself to her feet.<br /><br />“Glad you think so,” murmured a low voice behind them. “Now drop the gun.”<br /><br /><br><br><p align="right"><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/08/chapter-fourteen.html">next chapter</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5264713137247978317-5822380554658305482?l=myrmidon-online.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264713137247978317.post-52540791151239587812008-07-02T13:44:00.007-04:002008-09-03T08:27:22.254-04:00<br>They sat in silence. Esme leaned back in her chair, gazing out of the wide picture window across the room. After driving through the slums to get to the Center, the view was a surprise: tall metallic spires reaching seamlessly upwards, their pointed tips stabbing a misty sunset. His awe must have been written clearly across his face because a quiet whisper slid into his mind a moment later.<br /><br />“It isn’t real.” Doavin turned toward Esme, eyes widened, but she just shook her head. “We’re still in the Lows. This is just more relaxing than the alternative," She smiled faintly at the disappointed set of his mouth, briefly reaching out to pat his knee. “There are places like that. Maybe one day we will take you above level so you can see them.” <br /><br />Doavin wasn’t sure he understood what she meant but he nodded anyway, eyes dropping briefly before lifting to her face when she spoke next.<br /><br />“Do you have questions for me, Doavin? I have a few for you, but they can wait for another time.”<br /><br />He hesitated, watching as she waited for him, her expression serene. He had too many questions, so many that he wasn't sure which to ask first, some of them hovering, incompletely formed, around his mind like a cloud. But he could also sense Aeneat's eyes on him, and he shrunk back in his seat, eyes downcast.<br /><br />Esme seemed to sense the hostility emanating from her comrade because she lifted her head, targetting him with a smile. "Aeneat my love. Will you please go downstairs to make sure our friend knows to wait for Doavin here?" <br /><br />For a moment, Aeneat almost seemed ready to refuse. Then he turned away, scowling at the door before it swung shut behind him. Esme watched Aeneat leave before turning back to Doavin, clearly waiting for a question. Doavin was surprised to hear himself speak a moment or so later. “Why do you attack other elves?”<br /><br />Esme’s eyebrows arched and she shook her head. “You go straight to the heart of it, don’t you?” she paused, fishing through the candy bowl that rested on the table by her knees. “I can’t answer that properly during the time we have here, but anyone at the base with you can help you understand. They’ll all have different reasons, but it will all amount to the same thing. Too many years of inequality. Too much pain here in the Lows. Too much abuse. Too much injustice. I’ve been alive for a long time, Doavin. More than long enough to know it is only getting more blatant, and more insufferable.”<br /><br />She fell silent briefly, narrow fingers unwrapping her candy. The soft tinkle of foil provided a soundtrack for her voice when she spoke again. “But despite how we look, Aeneat and I have no claim on anything of theirs. We aren’t kin, and we wouldn’t want to be if this is what we’d inherit. Please remember that.”<br /><br />Doavin mused over her words, watching as the small cherry candy finally emerged from its wrapper. “Is that why you hate them so much?”<br /><br />“We don’t hate them, Doavin,” her voice was gentle. “We only hate the things they stand for.”<br /><br />He blinked, surprised to hear something so similar to what Aeneat had said to him the night before. “Is there really a difference?”<br /><br />“You’ll find out about that soon enough,” Esme carefully placed the candy on her tongue and continued, lips quirking when he sighed. “We have someone leaving for a low risk mission someplace nearby. Would you like to tag along with her? It would be good for you to meet more of my compatriots, especially if you decide you’d like to stay with us. For now, at least.”<br /><br />Doavin frowned—he didn’t know enough to fathom going anywhere else. Yet at the same time, something seemed off. Esme was too willing to involve him, the complete opposite of Aeneat who seemed all too ready to bring him back to where Anai had found him. The strange contrast rang alarms in his head. “Why do you trust me?”<br /><br />To his surprise, she laughed. “We’ll just say I’m an excellent judge of character. And I have a feeling about you.” He opened his mouth to question her further, but she interrupted. “You should go. Aeneat will be waiting for you outside, and someone will be by to take you back to the base or along with her, whichever you decide you'd like to do.” She clasped his hand in both of her own, squeezing it before letting it go. “Be safe, Doavin. May all be well for you.”<br /><br />The sudden dismissal surprised him, but he stood obediently, ducking his head before turning to leave the room. Esme seemed nice, but she was letting him into something that was so secretive without asking him anything at all. It didn't feel right, and it left him with the suspicion that he was little more than a helpless pawn in someone else’s strategy. The realization that he didn’t know what else he could do made him grit his teeth as he went downstairs.<br /><br />Aeneat was indeed waiting for him outside, collar raised against the sharp wind that rushed along the tunnel. Doavin stared at him, but Aeneat didn’t react, crossing his arms over his chest and resting the back of his head against the wall behind him. They stood in silence several feet away from each other, Doavin continuing to watch Aeneat while Aeneat stared at the road as though he could pull Doavin’s ride into existence by the force of his gaze alone. <br /><br />Eventually, it was Doavin who broke the silence, curiosity forcing the words from between his lips. “Why does she come here?” <br /><br />For a long moment it seemed as though Aeneat would refuse to answer him, instead shooting him a brief look before turning back to face the driveway. “To visit her brother.”<br /><br />“Oh,” Doavin breathed. “What’s wrong with him?”<br /><br />“He’s dead,” Aeneat’s voice was bland, blunt. Then he was silent, leaning near motionless against the wall until a sleek low-set hover pulled up to the curb almost five minutes later. “There’s your ride,” he said and turned to leave, the automated doors swallowing him with a soft hiss of pressurized air.<br /><br />Doavin hesitated before moving forward, approaching the hover as though it might pounce on him. When he got close enough, he bent at the waist to peer at the driver. The tinted window rolled down obligingly, and he blinked, eyes widening at what it revealed.<br /><br />She was some sort of elf, at least partially, ears smaller than Esme’s but long enough to poke their pointed tips out from between strands of hair that were an obviously artificial lime color. Tiny blue studs glimmered from various places in her face—under her lip, in one nostril, over her left eye. She lacked the large scar that stretched out across Anai’s cheek, but Doavin was struck by the family resemblance immediately. Anai hadn’t mentioned having a sister, much less a twin, and yet here the twin was, leaning over the passenger seat to open the door for him.<br /><br />“Hey you,” she said, words thick. “Name’s Sevani. Call me Sev. Boss said you’re a new join up?”<br /><br />Doavin wasn’t sure if that was what had happened upstairs but he nodded, wondering how Esme could have spoken to Sev so quickly. Sitting down, he was surprised to realize this hover made Anai’s look extraordinarily old fashioned. The black interior housed a surprising number of buttons, several flashing lights, and a view screen that blinked their location on a large city map. He couldn’t help but wonder at the inequality between the two crafts, especially when he considered the fact that they belonged to siblings working in the same organization.<br /><br />“Nice, huh? You’d better fasten that safety strap,” Sev warned as she peeled away from the curb, hover vibrating when she tapped the gas pedal and sped down the tunnel. Doavin braced himself for a sudden influx of redness but none came, the road continuing uninterrupted as though the instance didn’t exist at all. He watched Sevani reach down, grabbing a brown-papered cigarette and sticking it between her lips. She lit it with a soft click of her lighter and a sweetly herbal scent filled the car and lingered as the smoke was sucked out the window.<br /><br />“So,” she said from around her cigarette, “What the hell did you do to Aeneat?” <br /><br />He started, turning back look at her once more. Her face was unreadable. He shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat.<br /><br />“Ah, Boss said you’re a quiet one too. That’ll be good on the mission, but it’s shit for conversation on the way there,” she briefly slid her eyes in his direction before returning them to the road. “I mean don’t look so glum or anything. Not like I’m going to kick you to the curb. It’s just that—well, if you have to apologize then you’d better hop to it. He might not look it, but he’s seriously not someone you want to make an enemy of if you know what I mean.”<br /><br />Doavin lowered his head, speaking down into his lap. “I can’t.”<br /><br />“Can’t what?” she asked.<br /><br />“Apologize.”<br /><br />“Ah well,” she sighed, flicking her ashes out the window. “Suit yourself. Just remember I warned you when you get into some shit you don’t want to handle.”<br /><br />The tunnel opened up, leaving them driving through the open air. They sped down the highway in silence.<br /><br /><br><br><p align="right"><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/07/chapter-thirteen.html">next chapter</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5264713137247978317-5254079115123958781?l=myrmidon-online.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264713137247978317.post-4804055122227361942008-06-28T11:48:00.009-04:002008-09-03T08:20:57.608-04:00<br>When Anai told him he was going to meet “the boss,” Doavin hadn’t known what to expect. When they entered the tunnel, however, he began to think they’d be going somewhere secret and isolated. As it turned out, they’d entered the Center for the Terminally Ill and Eternally Lost instead.<br /><br />Beyond two sets of automatic doors was a gleaming shrine to the color white; the floor, walls, and front desk were all covered in white tiles of varying shape and size. The corridors were interrupted by white double doors, and around a soft bend was a waiting room filled with plush chairs, all also white. When a nurse passed by, red hair tucked in a bun under her bleached cap, Doavin wondered how these people could spend so much time there without going insane.<br /><br />Aeneat had stopped at the front desk, leaning against it as one of the other nurses stopped typing at her computer to help him. He smiled with a charm Doavin had seen no sign of most recently and watched as the nurse’s cheeks flushed as she lowered her gaze to fumble with a small stack of paperwork. “Good Morning, sir,” she murmured. “Here to visit Ihsan today?”<br /><br />Aeneat nodded, seeming to ignore the elf’s flustered reaction. “Yes, thank you. My friend and I would like to go up to see him. I could sign us in, if that’s alright?”<br /><br />“Oh!” the nurse raised her eyes to look at him, not so much as glancing back at Doavin. “No, it’s okay. Nairi put that clipboard somewhere and I haven’t been able to find it for the life of me. We all know you here anyway. You can go ahead upstairs, and if I find it I’ll bring it up to you.”<br /><br />Doavin got the feeling she was breaking some sort of unspoken rule from the way Aeneat’s smile widened slightly and the nurse’s face glowed with a vibrancy that rivaled the instance’s color. “Well thank you, Nurse…” he bent a bit to eye the nametag pinned over her breast, “Nurse Delwyn. I do appreciate it. Could you tell me if Ihsan has any other visitors right now?”<br /><br />The nurse hesitated, eyes going skyward for a moment. “Well, without that clipboard I can’t say for sure. But I’m pretty sure I saw his sister come in earlier, so she’s probably up there now.”<br /><br />“Perfect,” Aeneat pulled back from the desk, shooting the nurse one last smile. “Thank you. Very much.”<br /><br />“Oh anytime, sir!” she chirped, still glowing. Doavin shot her one last look before turning to follow Aeneat, feeling as though he’d gone unnoticed by everyone he’d seen since Anai left them.<br /><br />Aeneat bypassed the elevator, instead leading Doavin to a back staircase. He climbed to the top floor without so much as turning to make sure Doavin was still behind him but paused by the door leading into the hallway. “Answer her when she speaks to you,” he warned. “You’ll regret it if you’re rude to her.” The tone of his voice made it unclear just who would make Doavin regret his continued silence. Possibly it would be the boss, but Doavin found it more likely that it would be Aeneat himself. Still, rather than speak he nodded, and Aeneat shot him a sharp look before pushing the door open and walking back into the bright whiteness of another waiting room.<br /><br />While the room downstairs had been far from bustling, this one was almost completely vacant. The television recited last night’s news for the sole occupant, and Doavin hesitated before following Aeneat closer. She was an elf, judging from the shape of her heavily adorned ears, and she looked more like Aeneat than she did the figures on the screen she had been watching so intently. After a moment, Doavin decided that was more because of her dark hair than anything else—when he studied their faces, he realized they were actually rather different. Their noses were similarly straight and they shared a certain fullness of the lower lip, but that was where the similarities ended. Her jaw was softer, her skin paler, and her hair lacked any of the Aeneat's curl. Doavin was most struck by her eyes, however; they were nothing like Aeneat's, nor were they anything like Lars', far larger, rounder, and a dark hybrid of blue and green. Aeneat’s eyes could be expressive, but hers were powerful. Pinned under her gaze, he felt ransacked, as though she had gone over every nook of his personality and discovered things about him that he himself still did not know or remember. <br /><br />“Ah,” her lips twitched, forming a faint smile, and Doavin was shocked to find her mouth remained closed when she spoke. “So you’re the one who’s gotten my little Aeneat in such a state. My name is Esme. Come sit with me.”<br /><br /><br><br><p align="right"><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/07/chapter-twelve.html">next chapter</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5264713137247978317-480405512222736194?l=myrmidon-online.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264713137247978317.post-6181536794886117922008-06-27T21:35:00.003-04:002008-06-28T11:57:12.016-04:00<br>Doavin never came back for breakfast. Anai frowned at his plate, speaking without lifting her eyes from it. “His food’s getting cold.”<br /><br />“Let it,” he said, mopping the last of the syrup from his plate. He shook his head when she opened her mouth once more, “He knows it’s there. If he wants it, he’ll come for it.”<br /><br />Anai began to protest but ultimately thought the better of it, heaving another sigh instead as she started on her own tepid breakfast. They finished their food in relative silence, neither having much more to say to the other, and Anai stood to collect their plates once they had both lost interest in their remainders. She dropped the dishes into the sink and stood over them for a moment before throwing her shoulders back and turning to face Lars once more. <br /><br />“You said you’d go lay down. I’ll find Doavin and take him to Central.” Lars nodded and had begun to push himself up when Anai spoke again. “Why do you think the boss wants to meet him anyway?”<br /><br />Lars paused, one hand still braced on the tabletop. “I wouldn’t know.”<br /><br />“Of course you wouldn’t. But what do you think?”<br /><br />It might have been the lack of an attitude in her voice or the openly concerned set to her face, but Lars found himself stopping to give her question real thought. “You found him in the base. It might just be an issue of seeing if we can trust him here.”<br /><br />“Or..?” prompted Anai. Lars’ brow furrowed before he shook his head and she continued. “Aeneat thinks he’s part of some new Guard.”<br /><br />Lars finally lifted his hand from the table, giving a quiet snort as he began to walk away. “Aeneat thinks everyone is part of a new Guard. He has since I met him.” <br /><br />Anai nodded in agreement, "Yeah well, I told him that but it didn't seem to make much of a difference. He's pretty damn stuck on it this time" <br /><br />“I'm not saying it's not possible, Anai. It might be. I know I wouldn’t recognize the Guard if they bit me, and you have to admit ‘Doavin’ is damn strange. But Aeneat’s still jumping to conclusions unnecessarily, and we have more important things to do than sit here and speculate," he smiled humorously despite the fact that Anai couldn't see it. "Or you all do. All I have to do is lay down until someone comes to finish my healing job.”<br /><br />“That doesn’t make me feel much better, Lars,” Anai complained to his retreating back, but he didn't respond, instead disappearing into his bedroom and closing the door behind him. Anai frowned after him for a moment. Then she lingered in the kitchen, washing the dishes and cleaning any imagined mess from the counter tops before finally leaving to search for Doavin. Finding him didn’t prove to be very difficult; he was in the same room as always. He looked up when the door opened and sliced the room apart with a thick stripe of light.<br /><br />“Hey, Doavin. How about another ride in the hover?” He watched her for a moment longer and then turned away. She sighed, pushing the door open more widely, “Yeah well. I’d rather not go either, but we don’t have much of a choice. Boss wants to meet you.”<br /><br />Doavin found he didn’t much care what this anonymous boss wanted, not now that it was obviously different from his desire to remain in the room alone. Unfortunately, it quickly became clear that Anai wasn’t going to give up when she had orders to carry out, and her continued attempts to ease him out of the room were doing nothing for his head. By the time he stepped out into the well-lit common area, the table lamps were enough to send painful shards behind his eyes and radiating toward the back of his skull. He was left following Anai, face pulled tight into a squint in response.<br /><br />“Here. Put this on,” she tossed him a jacket. “It’s cold where we’re going.” He obeyed without a word, leaving it open when the zipper proved to be too much for him to figure out right away. She glanced at that but didn’t speak again until she had unlocked the hover, opening his door for him before walking around the front to get behind the wheel. “You haven’t asked where we’re headed,” she reminded him as she turned the key in the ignition. “Don’t you want to know?”<br /><br />He shook his head no, and she blinked at him, surprised. <br /><br />“You aren’t even a little curious?” He shook his head again, pulling a laugh from her lips. “Shit, you really are fucking weird.” Then she pulled out of the garage.<br /><br />Doavin was happy to note that his wordlessness seemed to spread to Anai over the course of their drive. She turned on the radio, reaching forward to scan through the stations, but she eventually gave up and switched it off again, allowing silence to fall over the inside of the hover uncontested. She didn’t speak for at least twenty minutes, freeing Doavin to stare out of the window in an attempt to distract himself from his pounding head.<br /><br />The streets offered an unfortunate diversion. Dark and dingy, they were lined with fragile-looking buildings that rested close to the curb. Occasionally Doavin could see someone move in front of their windows, casting dark silhouettes across faded shades. Leaning a little closer to the window, he tried to look above them but could only see a slab of dull gray that stretched out over the rooftops. Puzzled, he turned toward Anai, but she just shook her head, not seeming to understand the source of his confusion.<br /><br />“Welcome to The Lows,” she smiled, but the expression never reached her eyes. “Slums at their finest.”<br /><br />He watched her for a moment longer before turning back to the window, chewing at his lip and searching for a bright spot in the scenery that didn’t seem to exist. He lost track of time, and when Anai spoke again he started a little in surprise.<br /><br />“You might want to close your eyes,” she warned, not taking her gaze from the road in front of them. “It’s going to be a little weird for a second here.”<br /><br />He couldn’t bring himself to take her advice, so his eyes were open when the hover sped into an alleyway. For a moment, he could see the thin tenements rise up on either side of him as another street quickly approached. Then everything disappeared, replaced by swirling scarlet that licked at the windows of the hover. He jumped, leaning away from the window and Anai sighed in his direction.<br /><br />“I tried to warn you,” she said. “It’ll only last a minute more. The instance recognized me and let us through.” <br /><br />He didn’t think to ask just how the “instance” knew who Anai was. Before he could recover from the shock of seeing the world disappear, it returned just as suddenly, the switch leaving him nauseated. Anai must have given him another sidelong glance, because when she spoke her voice had a warning tone. “Don’t puke in my craft.” Doavin didn’t respond, but he was doing his best to follow her directions.<br /><br />He looked out the window when he finally recovered enough to do anything beyond close his eyes and pray for a stronger stomach. The fact that he couldn’t recognize where he was meant very little; it wasn’t as though he had a map of the city inscribed on the back of his eyes. Still, he had a feeling they were no longer anywhere near where they had been before the strange redness swirled around their hover. The run-down buildings and trash-ridden streets had all disappeared, replaced by a concrete tunnel, pale blue lights barely illuminating the road ahead of them. A short distance ahead was a low structure built into one sloping wall, and Anai ultimately pulled to a stop in front of it.<br /><br />Aeneat was waiting for them at the door, hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his long coat. The wind blew his hair around his head in odd patterns of curls, but he ignored them, eyes trained on Doavin as he and Anai drew closer. “Anai,” he said by way of greeting. “Are you coming inside?”<br /><br />“You know I’m not,” she said, and Doavin looked over at her in surprise. “I trust the boss when it comes to tactics and sending us out to where we’re needed, but you know she gives me the damn heebie-jeebies.”<br /><br />Aeneat just nodded. “Alright. Go back home. I’ll take care of him.”<br /><br />Anai looked between the two, sensing there was something going on that she just wasn’t catching. Ultimately, she nodded anyway, giving Doavin’s arm a light squeeze. “Okay, I guess. I’ll see you later then, Doavin.” She managed a slight smile before hurrying back to the hover, partially to avoid the harsh slap of wintery air but also, Doavin thought, in an attempt to put a little more space between herself and the “boss” he kept hearing about. He turned back to face Aeneat when Anai began to pull away from the curb, but Aeneat had already began to walk away, leaving him to scramble to catch up before the doors closed and left him stranded in the cold outside.<br /><br><br><p align="right"><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/06/chapter-eleven.html">next chapter</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5264713137247978317-618153679488611792?l=myrmidon-online.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264713137247978317.post-53971136789489381562008-06-26T23:49:00.008-04:002008-06-27T21:37:44.310-04:00<br>Doavin was beginning to realize that things rarely went as planned when you were no longer confined motionless in a dark area. He was half afraid to look into Lars' room after the night before, helplessly remembering gray rooms and doppelgängers, but when he pushed Lars’ door open there was no sign that anything from his dream had become true to life. There was also no sign of Lars. He was nowhere to be seen.<br /><br />Moving a few steps further inside, Doavin worried his lip between his teeth. The bed was rumpled, sheets pushed down to its foot, but everything else was exactly as it had been the last time he’d snuck inside. Doavin turned a little, scanning for Lars and growing increasingly worried; after all, in Lars should probably still be in bed if he was bleeding. His dream had convinced him of that.<br /><br />He was about to hurry back outside to tell Anai that something had happened when a voice rose up from the empty air around him. “What is it?” Doavin thought it sounded surprisingly like Lars might if Lars were tired, mildly aggravated, and completely disembodied. His eyes widened and he turned about once more, searching for where the words had come from and completely forgetting to answer the question.<br /><br />“What do you want?” Now Lars sounded peevish, spacing his words as though he were speaking to someone who needed the extra time to comprehend them.<br /><br />Doavin was bewildered. Not only did it seem as though everyone was angry with him, but it was extremely awkward to try to talk to someone you couldn’t see. He hesitated before speaking, his voice quiet and unsure when he finally used it. “Where… are you?”<br /><br />“Close the door.” <br /><br />Doavin did so, obeying the command without comprehending its relevance until he came face to face—or at least face to kneecap—with Lars. He was sitting down against the wall, long sword resting across his knees. He looked completely unlike how Doavin first remembered him; not more relaxed, Doavin realized, but instead slightly unraveled, eyes saddled with slight bags and hair in a tangled fall on either side of his face.<br /><br />“Silence,” muttered Lars, and Doavin realized he wasn’t sure if Lars was addressing him, commanding him, or just describing him. Still, he shook his head.<br /><br />“Doavin.”<br /><br />Lars leaned his head back against the wall behind him as he looked up at Doavin, arching his eyebrows, “Doavin, then,” he shrugged.<br /><br />Lars didn’t ask what he wanted, but Doavin knew he was supposed to relay Anai’s message now and then leave Lars to his wall-sitting. Yet with his head tilted up as it was, Lars had just given Doavin the first good look into his face that he’d gotten since the night before. Doavin's gaze lit on the Drow's eyes, getting the second look he'd been waiting for earlier. He could see them more clearly than he had before and noted that they weren’t quite as monochrome as he had thought. In place of the black centers he had seen in Anai and Aeneat’s eyes, Lars’ pupils were only a shade or two darker than the irises surrounding them. The darkest part of his eyes was instead around their perimeter: a thin border that marked out their circumference.<br /><br />“Your eyes…” Doavin began, throat working of its own accord. “They’re—“<br /><br />He wasn’t sure what he was about to say, but any number of adjectives could have worked: pale, unique, strange, beautiful. He thought they were all of those things but didn’t get the chance to say so, interrupted by Anai’s voice as it slipped, muffled, under Lars’ bedroom door.<br /><br />“Well? Lars! Are you eating or not?”<br /><br />Lars turned his head toward the door for a moment, cheek resting against the wall. Then he briefly closed his eyes, heaving a sigh before looking back at Doavin.<br /><br />Doavin swallowed. “…Anai wants to know if you want french toast.”<br /><br />Lars slightly shrugged one shoulder. “Fine.”<br /><br />“Okay.” The two watched each other for moment longer, Doavin growing increasingly flustered before fleeing and nearly hitting him with the door on the way out. Lars shook his head to himself, and his hand fluttered to his ribs when he pushed himself up.<br /><br />Lingering in his room, Lars carefully sheathed his sword and leaned it back against the wall by the bed. Then he sat down to change the dressings on his wound, noting with some satisfaction the amount of blood left behind on the old gauze. He made a brief detour to wash his hands before heading into the dining room where Anai was laying out two sets of silverware. She looked up at him, and her expression quickly moved from one of surprise to something far more accusatory.<br /><br />“You shouldn’t be up. I was going to bring this to you in your—“<br /><br />“I’m fine, Anai.”<br /><br />“Like hell you are! You got shot how long ago? I know you got some partial healing done and all, but—”<br /><br />He interrupted her again as he slowly eased himself into one of the chairs. “I’m fine. I’ll go lay down after this.”<br /><br />Anai rolled her eyes at him but gave up. That was another thing she’d come to decide about Drow in the relatively short time she’d known Lars: they were unbearably stubborn about absolutely everything. “Fine. Whatever,” she threw her hands up and turned away, returning to the kitchen in an attempt to keep their breakfast from burning. “When you drop dead, it won’t be because I didn’t warn you first.”<br /><br />Lars ignored her, shifting a little in an attempt to get comfortable. Anai returned to thrust eating utensils at him, and he spoke as he set them down on the table. “Is he eating with us?” Anai nodded, not turning from the stove where she was slipping the last of the toast from the frying pan. “He’s damn odd.”<br /><br />Anai placed a plate in front of Lars, speaking as she headed toward the refrigerator. “Yeah, well. What’d he do now?”<br /><br />Lars shook his head at the browned top of his french toast. “Nothing,” he muttered, “beyond generally strange behavior.”<br /><br />She glanced over at him before bending at the waist, riffling through the fridge for the juice carton. “I’d be pretty fucking weird too though.” She missed Lars’ shrug but caught the noncommittal sound he made.<br /><br />“You’re batshit now.”<br /><br />“Asshole.” She plunked his glass in front of him.<br /><br />He ignored her, beginning to eat his breakfast instead. The phone rang when he took his first sip of juice.<br /><br />“I totally spit in that by the way.” She grinned as she jogged to the other room. Lars would be okay. She hadn’t managed to kill the bastard after all. They could go back to insulting each other, and she could hate him with a clear conscience. Relieved, she realized, didn’t even begin to cover how she was feeling, and she answered the phone with a smile in her voice.<br /><br />When she returned to the dining room, there was no trace of it. “That was Aeneat,” she said, sighing at her cooling breakfast, “He said we have to get Doavin ready. The boss wants to meet him.”<br /><br /><br><br><p align="right"><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/06/chapter-ten.html">next chapter</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5264713137247978317-5397113678948938156?l=myrmidon-online.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264713137247978317.post-40735829771804205512008-06-20T23:58:00.022-04:002008-06-27T01:37:35.795-04:00<p><br />Aeneat’s eyes remained guarded as he pressed his palm more tightly over Doavin’s mouth, muffling the end of his screams. When it was clear Doavin was finished, he finally lifted his hand away, knees cracking as pushed himself up from the floor near Doavin’s head. His expression didn’t change when Doavin retched quietly, barely avoiding vomiting over the couch, nor did it flicker when the tears began to seep from Doavin’s eyes.<br /><br />He turned to leave, but a sudden tight grip around his wrist gave him pause. “What is it?” he asked, voice low.<br /><br />“I dreamed,” said Doavin. “I’m afraid.”<br /><br />Frowning, Aeneat shook his head. “It was a nightmare. You’re fine.” He shook Doavin’s hand from around his wrist before turning to leave once more.<br /><br />“But..!” Doavin reached forward, eyes shining in the near darkness. “Aeneat, are dreams ever real?”<br /><br />“When they aren’t dreams, maybe.”<br /><br />“I think my dream was real.” He stared up at Aeneat, his brow furrowed.<br /><br />Sighing, Aeneat just wiped his hand over his face. “Then it wasn’t a dream. A vision, if you want to believe in that sort of thing. Possibly a premonition, “ He sounded tired, almost bored, “But not a dream.”<br /><br />Doavin looked up at Aeneat, struck silent. Whatever had happened to Aeneat while he slept must have changed him, sapping all the warmth away and leaving him frigid. It seemed almost as though someone had quietly replaced the Aeneat that had appeared earlier, who had smiled as he invited Doavin away from his solitude, with the one who stood before him now, distant, and completely disinterested in Doavin’s obvious distress. He bit his lip, looking down at his lap. Even if Aeneat seemed not to care, he suddenly felt the need to tell him what had happened. He pushed himself up, hesitating for a moment as he tried to organize his thoughts into coherent sentences. When he spoke, however, it was quickly, his words rushing to surround Aeneat before he could turn away, and the coherence Doavin had stuggled to attain was replaced by language made awkward by his urgency.<br /><br />“There was a lot of what came out of Lars before,” he began. “When he was hurt.”<br /><br />“Blood,” supplied Aeneat.<br /><br />“Blood,” repeated Doavin. “There was a lot of blood. Everywhere, blood. And a thing. It looked like me. And it said…” he trailed off, looking into the far corner. “I know my name now.”<br /><br />Aeneat listened in silence, expression unchanging.<br /><br />“It’s Doavin, my name. It didn’t say it. But I know."<br /><br />Aeneat only nodded and, when Doavin failed to resume speaking, turned away once more. He had nothing to say about this dream that Doavin had elevated to the level of a vision. Nothing to say about the blood or the creature Doavin had allowed to name him. Indeed, he found he had nothing to say to Doavin at all.<br /><br />Seeing this, Doavin felt his mouth dry and turn sour. His hand fell to the cushion by his hip, fingers fighting to gain purchase in the fabric when Aeneat began to walk away from him again. He realized now: nothing had happened to Aeneat while Doavin slept, but something had happened between the two of them and he had no idea what it was or how he could fix it.<br /><br />“Aeneat!” he cried at Aeneat’s retreating back, “Why do you hate me so much? I don’t understand… what did I do?”<br /><br />The anguish in Doavin's voice was enough to finally stop Aeneat, and his eyes targeted the television set when he shook his head. “I don’t hate you," he said quietly. "I feel for you. But I hate absolutely everything you stand for.”<br /><br />For a moment, Aeneat met Doavin's gaze and Doavin could see a quiet sense of resignation. Then it was as if someone placed a mirror underneath the surface of Aeneat's eyes, locking Doavin out without preamble. He watched Aeneat leave, shocked silent by a rejection he hadn't even begun to expect.<br /></p><p>The sharp sound of Aeneat’s door seemed to come out of nowhere, and it hit him like a closed fist, leaving him breathless. Suddenly, he felt more alone than he had ever known was possible. At least before, in his ignorance, he had never known anything else. Now that he had experienced warmth, even if only momentarily, its theft left him feeling as cold and empty as Aeneat's final stare.<br /><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><center><span style="font-weight: bold;">. . . . . . . . . . </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">. . . . . . . . . .</span></center></span></p><br /><p style="text-align: left;">Aeneat was gone by the time Doavin slunk from out of his dark room. Anai said he had been called on a solo mission and left a few hours earlier. He sat down at the kitchen table, wordlessly watching as she assembled a small bomb from the various parts spread out near her coffee cup.<br /><br />"It happens like that a lot," she told him, reaching for a miniature screwdriver, "I'll be sleeping like a damn log and wake up with a note tacked to my door saying he's off doing whatever they told him to do," she paused, tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth as she tackled a screw. "We're just one part of this outfit. I mean, it's not like there're many of us anyway. But they keep us pretty well split up, that way if one of the groups gets found out, the whole thing doesn't get shot to shit, you know?"</p>Doavin just rubbed at his temple, distracted. He'd woken up with a headache pounding behind his eyes, and it seemed determined to hover around his head for as long as it could. Although it had faded somewhat, it still remained just strong enough to make it hard for him to concentrate on anything else.<br /><br />Anai looked up at him for a moment, unaware of his discomfort as her fingers drummed against the tabletop. "Anyway. He also said you'd figured out your name. Doavin, right?" She smiled at his faint nod, "Never heard that one before. What's it mean?"<br /><br />She waited for a few seconds but he remained silent, not lifting his eyes from her hands as they stilled over the unfinished bomb. Eventually she heaved an exaggerated sigh, "Back to being all silent again, huh? Well I hope it's not because you think I'm angry with you over what happened yesterday. I mean I was pretty pissed at first, and I'm still not sure how you managed that whole thing, scrawny as you are, but I'd gotten all overzealous after all. I do that sometimes, so I'm sorry. No hard feelings, okay?"<br /><br />She smiled when he nodded once more, watching him briefly before lifting the small explosive device up to her face. "Well, I think I'm done working on this little bastard for now. I'm hungry. How about I make us some french toast? I'll even make some for Lars, if he wants some. Go ask him for me, huh? He'll probably be nicer to you," her smile faded a little, trembling before returning to full strength. "I kinda got him shot after all."<br /><br />Doavin was relieved as he pushed himself away from the table. Anai may have meant well, but her chatter left him exhausted at the same time that it fostered his headache, speeding its spread between his ears. He decided he would wake Lars and then go back into hiding; he wasn't particularly hungry anyway.<br /><br><br><br /><p align="right"><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/06/chapter-nine.html">next chapter</a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5264713137247978317-4073582977180420551?l=myrmidon-online.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264713137247978317.post-33267506680234717832008-06-18T17:54:00.025-04:002008-06-23T11:57:32.592-04:00<p><br />“You’re out of your fucking mind,” Anai crossed her arms over her chest. “He’s a strong little bastard, but part of some new Guard? No flipping way.”<br /><br />She and Aeneat had returned to the living area, watching as he flipped through the news stations in search of more coverage of the story. He’d already described the last newscast, at some points reciting it nearly word for word, but Anai remained unconvinced, continuing to yawn frequently behind one hand.<br /><br />Aeneat turned to face her, seeming to finally grow impatient with her disbelief. “Did you steal anything else from in there? I know Lars didn’t.”<br /><br />“Hell no, but I blew a lot of shit up. Maybe they just can’t find whatever weapon they’re talking about. There’s no way they mean him,” she leaned closer to Aeneat, resting her hand on his knee. “I mean come on. Seriously! I know you’ve always been paranoid about shit like this, but there’s no way they’re stupid enough to make that mistake again!”<br /><br />He shot a strong look at her before gazing past her and at the man she had “rescued,” his eyes hard and unreadable. “I don’t know what makes you so sure,” he said, still watching the man. “History’s full of intelligent creatures that make the same mistake more than once.” The words seemed to fall, heavy, from his tongue.<br /><br />“But not with things like this! You know better than I do just how much the Guard hates elves. I mean just yesterday with those two kids… even I had to admit that was some sick shit they did. Do you really think the government would put themselves at risk again?”<br /><br />Aeneat finally lowered the remote control, sitting back as a disembodied voice spoke over video of the attacked compound. “Yes.”<br /><br />This newscast was much like the last one, featuring the same clip of the official with her stern eyebrows. When it was over, Aeneat turned off the television, half flinging the remote onto the end table.<br /><br />“Look,” he said, his voice quiet. “You’re going to believe what you want, but this looks pretty clear to me. You took a man with an eight stamped on the back of his neck and nothing else. They lost a confidential ‘defensive’ weapon and nothing else worth mentioning. Maybe if they’d tattooed ‘Eternal Guard’ across his forehead you’d believe me.” He pushed himself up from the couch, and headed for the front door.<br /><br />“Aeneat?” Anai tried and failed to snag his sleeve in her fingertips. “Aeneat, where are you going?”<br /><br />“For a drive.”<br /><br />He didn’t slam the door behind him, but it certainly felt as though he had. Anai stared at into space for a long moment before turning to face the man still sitting next to her. “You’re not one of the Guard, now are you?” she asked.<br /><br />“…but I don’t know what that is,” he answered.<br /><br />Anai stared at him in silence for a while longer, surprised at the sound of his voice. Eventually, however, she shook her head to herself and ran her hands through her hair. “Well alright. He’s not coming back for a while. I’m going to take my ass to bed. You can have one of the empty rooms if you want to switch it up from sleeping on the floor in the dark over there.” She managed a faint smile, patting him on his thigh before standing and disappearing into her room.<br /><br />He thought of taking her up on the invitation, but whenever he considered moving from the couch, he remembered Aeneat, out there somewhere and obviously angry. Rationally, he realized Aeneat could probably take care of himself; he was, after all, the one who brought Lars back to safety the night before. But at the same time, he couldn't forget that Aeneat looked devastatingly fragile, more slender than even Anai, who was several inches shorter. The man decided he’d wait up, just to make sure Aeneat made it home safely. He leaned back against the couch, eying the television that had caused the trouble in the first place.<br /><br />He fell asleep still wondering what all the fuss was about.<br /><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><center><span style="font-weight: bold;">. . . . . . . . . . </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">. . . . . . . . . .</span></center><br /></span></div><br /><br />When he opened his eyes he was assaulted by a familiar darkness that stretched over him, heavy like a damp blanket. He blinked blearily, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes. He hadn't meant to drift off, not while waiting for Aeneat to return, and decided to check the rooms to see if the small man was in one of them. When he pushed himself up, however, he noticed an odd light seeping underneath Lars’ door, and he frowned before moving closer to carefully push it open and look inside.<br /><br />What he discovered wasn’t Lars’ room at all. It was empty, the walls and floor painted a pale, cold gray that resembled hard concrete. He looked around, confused — he knew he had been out in the living room a moment ago, but this was nothing like anything he'd seen in the bomb shelter. He turned back toward the door intent on leaving to find someone who could tell him what had happened to their shelter only to find himself facing a tall figure he didn't recognize. Dressed in a shapeless red shift that draped down past its knees, it hid behind the dark hair that obscured its face. “Finally," it told him, reaching one pale arm forward. "Finally, you’ve come.”<br /><br />Something told him to stay away from the creature and he stepped back, eyes searching the room for another exit. Realizing he was trapped, he turned back to the figure in front of him, sure to step back out of its reach. “Who are you?” His voice trembled when he spoke, and for a moment he was ashamed.<br /><br />There was a pause followed by a low tsking noise. Then the creature moved closer, speaking words like a caress. “Oh, my dearest," it cooed softly. "You have so much to learn. You don't even remember who you are. But shush—I’ll tell you. You’re my baby, my youngest darling child, and you will do what they tell you. They all do. Always, they do, even when they fight not to.”<br /><br />The figure swayed on its feet, body weaving through the air before it advanced once more, arms outstretched to touch him. He backed away and felt a wall rise up behind him, halting him in his tracks. Trapped, he was helpless as a pair of chill hands felt at his face as though their owner were blind. They were clammy. He closed his eyes with a soft shudder.<br /><br />“Are you afraid, dearest? Are you afraid of your own mother? You fear your own father? Look at me. Look into the face of I who birthed you!”<br /><br />His fingers moved to push at the dark hair without his consent. He was left staring into a face that looked almost exactly like his own. He had the same cheekbones, the same jawline, the same nose, but it was the eyes that stole the breath from his throat. They were black and shiny, an inky darkness that stretched from lid to lid.<br /><br />“Look closely, my little black one. I am your past, your future. You will obey them. I will make sure of it.”<br /><br />It smiled, revealing a row of pink-stained teeth, and leaned forward to press its lips to his in a kiss. The taste of copper filled his mouth and, when he jerked his face away, he could feel warmth dribble, then pour, down his chin. Looking down to his feet, he saw he was standing in a growing puddle of dark red liquid and knew it was the same fluid that he had seen seep through Lars' fingers.<br /><br />“You will kill them all," said the creature as he looked up at it in shock. "When it is time, you will fulfill your purpose.” It licked his lips as if to taste them, cupping his cheek for a moment longer. Then it collapsed into the pool that now lapped at the skin a few inches up his legs. He could feel bony fingers wrap around his ankles, immobilizing him as the fluid rose still higher up his body.<br /><br />He woke up screaming his name into Aeneat’s hand.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Doavin. My little black one.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: right;"><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/06/chapter-eight.html">next chapter</a><br /></div><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5264713137247978317-3326750668023471783?l=myrmidon-online.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264713137247978317.post-66533063824290558872008-06-18T00:20:00.013-04:002008-06-24T18:23:21.911-04:00<p><br />It was Aeneat who sought him out early the next morning, knocking softly on the bedroom door before slipping inside. He blinked blearily, but the closing door smothered the light from outside before he could get much more than a glimpse of his visitor.<br /><br />“Can you see?” Aeneat asked, voice quiet. When he shook his head, Aeneat paused. “Oh, hold on then.” The door opened and shut once more, and the man found himself alone again.<br /><br />He recognized Aeneat if only because both Lars and Anai had referred to the small figure by name several times, but he realized he knew even less about Aeneat than he did about anyone else. They had never spoken, and he found it surprised him that Aeneat even knew he existed – everything had been so hectic that he doubted he could have drawn any attention to himself had he tried.<br /><br />His ignorance went beyond the commonplace, however; even the basics were muddled. Aeneat was so androgynous that neither sex really seemed to fit. He tried to imagine a man with Aeneat's jawline or slender neck but he found it just as difficult as picturing a woman with Aeneat’s voice and narrow hips. Such people existed to be sure, but he couldn’t tell if he had just met one of them.<br /><br />When the door opened once more, Aeneat slipped inside with a small lamp in tow, navigating the darkness with apparent ease and setting it down in the corner. A few soft clicks later and the room was covered in a soft golden glow. “There. That’s probably better for you.”<br /><br />The light may have made it easier to see, but it didn’t illuminate Aeneat’s identity any more. Small and fine boned, the revolutionary’s body didn’t reveal any clues either. Likewise, the quiet man realized that Aeneat’s long mass of curls would have seemed rather feminine on most people, but when paired with a face that was just angular enough to be confounding, the room might as well have remained shrouded in darkness for all the light revealed.<br /><br />Aeneat smiled faintly before bending to sit down nearby. “You’re trying to figure me out, aren’t you?” At his nod, Aeneat only looked more amused. “You looked like you were giving yourself a headache staring at me like that, so I figured that had to be what it was. Asking would’ve been easier, I’d bet, but then people seem to get embarrassed when they can’t tell one way or the other.”<br /><br />Unsure about what to say, he looked down and away. Even still, he could feel Aeneat’s gaze on him, and for a moment it felt as though his thoughts had been laid bare on the floor between them. He lifted his eyes in time to catch Aeneat’s smile, and he could feel his cheeks heat before he lowered his gaze again to look at the lamp in the corner. The laugh that burbled into the air soon after hardly soothed his flaming cheeks, and he barely resisted the urge to cover his face in his hands.<br /><br />They sat in silence for a few minutes before Aeneat had pity on him. “So, Anai says they found you at the base they hit earlier, and Lars says you’re nameless. Are they right?” When the man nodded, Aeneat’s soft smile made its reappearance, lingering across obviously amused lips, “And I see they were both right about your silence. Lars seems to think we should just call you that until you decide on something for yourself, but I’m not sure that’s much better than naming you “08.”<br /><br />It may have been a joke, but the man found he was suddenly too nervous to appreciate it. Instead, he let the room fall quiet once more, looking down at his hands where they curled in his lap. Aeneat sighed a little. “Well, my conversational skills’re obviously lacking. Do you want to check the news reports with me? They should be coming on soon, and the television always does a good job of replacing meaningful conversation.”<br /><br />He nodded, not catching Aeneat's wry tone, and they both pushed themselves up from the floor. Aeneat moved to turn off the light but stopped when a quiet voice trembled through the air.<br /><br />“Aeneat..?” He chewed at the inside of his cheek for a moment when Aeneat turned to face him. “What… are you?”<br /><br />He wasn’t prepared for laughter, and he felt a bit put out when that was Aeneat’s first reaction. “Oh, isn’t that a loaded question? Everyone here is a great many things. You could say that’s part of the problem.”<br /><br />“But I mean…” he trailed off and was grateful when Aeneat spoke up to compensate.<br /><br />“I know. I’m sorry – I was just being difficult. I’m male. I know it gets hard to tell sometimes if you aren’t used to looking at elves.” His lips twitched a little. Then he bent at the waist, pulling the lamp's cord from the wall and swathing the room in darkness once more.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /><center><span style="font-weight: bold;">. . . . . . . . . . </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">. . . . . . . . . .</span></center><br /></span><br /></p>Watching the news with Aeneat taught him two things. The first was that the news was horribly dull when you weren’t invested in anything it had to discuss. Many of that morning's stories focused on accidents from the day before: which buildings had collapsed, what traffic accident resulted in how serious a hospitalization, where a bomb had detonated and how many lives it had claimed. He suspected that he was supposed to feel sympathetic for the people involved, and he did indeed think it was all rather unfortunate, but at the same time he couldn't help but find the news programs disinteresting. He was helpless to stop his mind from revisiting more important things while his eyes remained trained on the screen in front of him, things such as whether or not Anai was angry with him, the strange color of Lars’ eyes, everyone’s strange preoccupation with naming him, and just how you went about naming yourself when you didn't really know who you were.<br /><br />He was so distracted by his thoughts that he nearly missed the only other thing the news had to offer: the knowledge that nearly everything was controlled by elves. Almost everyone on the screen was elven, from the reporters to the various interviewees and government officials. He was pretty sure the station had adopted that last group's point of view if only because no one seemed to contradict whatever the officials said, even when most of what they said was extraordinarily dull.<br /><br />Shifting slightly in his seat, he turned his eyes toward Aeneat, comparing him to the figures flashing by on the screen. They did look rather similar, even if Aeneat was darker than the blonde reporter who was currently discussing some raid or another. So Aeneat was an elf. He guessed that explained why it had been so difficult to discern his sex – he wasn’t quite sure about the reporter's either.<br /><br />But at the same time, it just didn’t make sense. Why would an elf be part of a group that certainly seemed determined to undermine an elven government? If Aeneat really was an elf, and it certainly seemed as though he was, then he had everything to lose and nothing to gain by helping Anai and Lars. It was self-sabotage. After all, if they were successful, where would that leave Aeneat and his brethren? And if they failed, well those consequences were fairly obvious.<br /><br />He had to be missing something. This time, he decided, he would just ask. “Aeneat..?”<br /><br />Aeneat shook his head, pressing one finger to his lips and then pointing it at the television where “Breaking News!” flashed across the screen in bright, bold lettering.<br /><br />“And in breaking news,” intoned the reporter, “the insurgents have attacked another base in a shockingly brazen move. This is the fourth such assault on the city this month. Casulties are reported to be limited, though several guards are currently en route to the local hospital, said to be in critical condition. Officials suspect the criminals were after an experimental weapon created to aid in defending our great city, and state they are certain that they will be able to track the thieves down to recover what has been lost.” The reporter's face was then replaced by that of another elf, her eyebrows drawn sharply downward in a stern frown as she ultimately repeated much of what had already been said. The man found his mind wandering and, by the time he managed to drag it back to the television, the programming had been replaced by an advertisement.<br /><br />The news meant very little to him, but "breaking news" sounded as though it ought to be important. He looked back at Aeneat, hoping for an explanation of what he'd obviously missed. Instead, the elf was staring at him, expression completely unlike the soft smiles that had flashed across his face before. Then Aeneat stood and quickly walked out of the room.<br /><br />“Anai!” His voice rung through the bomb shelter. “Anai, get up!”<br /><br />It took a moment, but eventually Anai opened the door to her bedroom, scrubbing at the lines on her cheek. “What is it, Aeneat? I’m up. It’d better be <span style="font-style: italic;">really</span> fucking good.”<br /><br />Aeneat ignored the sleepy glare she sent in his direction, but his voice was low and angry when he spoke. “Where exactly did you find our friend?"<br /><br />"In one of the rooms in that compound tonight," she said, forcing the words through a wide yawn.<br /><br />Aeneat shook his head briskly, almost gritting his teeth. "Which room, Anai? Where was it?"<br /><br />She frowned, bristling at the tone in his voice. "I dunno... Shit, I was kind of busy running away from guys with guns. I didn't check my map." Aeneat made a low sound in his throat, turning to stalk away. She stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Hey. What's going on? Why're you all agitated?"<br /><br />"I think they’re rebuilding the Guard,” he said, turning to look at her over his shoulder . “And if I’m right, you just stole part of it.”<br /><br /><br /><br /><p align="right"><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/06/interlude-eternal-guard.html">next chapter</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5264713137247978317-6653306382429055887?l=myrmidon-online.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264713137247978317.post-25559522545318168132008-06-16T05:48:00.002-04:002008-06-23T14:13:20.526-04:00<p></p><center><b><br />History As We Would Have It Told</b><br />Author Unknown<br />359th year of the Era of Peace</center><br /><br />The elves are a fearful people. They fear their enemies, but more than this they fear their creations. Often, the two become one and the same.<br /><br />Some would have you believe the Great Peace was a time of harmony. This is not exactly true. The Great Peace was a time of negotiation, of willful ignorance and selective amnesia. For those of us who chose not to forget, those times were rather like these. Truly, there is not much difference between the two.<br /><br />The elves are a nature-loving people. I know this.<br /><br />We eventually destroy even those things we love most. Sometimes especially those things. I know this as well.<br /><br />If it had not been the Steer, it would have been otherwise. It would have been the first creations, the Eternal Guard. If not them, then it would have been Drow. Many among the elves will tell you this. It is the truth.<br /><br />The elves realized they were vulnerable long before the Fall of the Steer. Though the humans’ lives were brief flickers in comparison to their own, each elven birth is a rare blessing to be celebrated even now. This left the humans to expand, growing in both strength and number, while the elves stagnated and eventually began to weaken. Without aid, they realized, they would eventually be overcome, fallen at the feet of another civilization.<br /><br />Thus they invented the Eternal Guard, a small group with a strength superior to even their creators. At their height, they perhaps numbered two hundred, but there are far fewer now. If the elves did anything right with the Guard, it was forbid them to procreate. Their number can only grow smaller.<br /><br />If I were to compare the Guard to anything you know, it would be to the Vampire. Yet if I understand your folklore properly, they are still quite different. Religious paraphernalia has no effect on them, nor do particular foods. They do not burst into flame at sunrise, though they are generally so pale as to redden and burn easily. Beyond slowing one down, a stake to the heart would do little damage; in order to kill a member of the Guard, one must destroy its body.<br /><br />But there are similarities. The Eternal Guard have the potential to reach immortality to be sure, and they, much like your Vampires, rely on the blood of others to survive. They frequently sleep through the brightest hours of each day as their eyes are extraordinarily sensitive to its light, and their bite can be surprisingly pleasurable when they desire that it be so.<br /><br />The Guard remained loyal to their creators for a great many years, and provided the first line of defense against the exiled Drow. Soon after the Drow retreated to the underground, however, the High Priestess judged the Eternal Guard to be an abomination and decreed that they be put to death. When killing them with blunt force proved to be difficult [their creators, it seemed, had done their job rather well], the elvish crown ordered the Guard back into their cells. They followed obediently and were abandoned and starved, their bodies slowly consuming themselves over a period of several long weeks.<br /><br />It was discovered upon a cell count that not all of the Guard had been led back to their cages; a single unit had not returned. As their absence stretched on for months, then years and finally decades, officials claimed that the last Guards had perished elsewhere. Such things did happen occasionally, and it would explain their apparent disobedience. But when a small contingent of scouts were eventually found, dead with the telltale signs of the Eternal Guard’s feeding on their throats, it became clear the Guards were still quite alive and well.<br /><br />They never attacked the elvish settlements directly, likely because they were too few in number, but any elves who strayed too far from their homes put themselves at great risk. During the War, entire companies would sometimes go missing, their bodies latter found emptied and hanging from the trees like so much rotten fruit. Even now, the papers occasionally feature a grizzly murder, sensationalized on the front pages. No one speaks about it, but we recognize their work when we see it.<br /><br />The Guard have become an integral part of our life here, especially in The Lows. We understand them, their thirst for vengeance, and envy them the power to obtain the retribution we all feel we deserve. But that is not why I have told you this. I explain it so that you might understand my position.<br /><br />There have been whispers of elven experiments, attempts to create soldiers to serve in the innermost circles of their armed forces. Such suspicions are often discounted, but if one were to tell me the elves strive to find new ways to protect their establishment, I would not be surprised. To tell me this and expect disbelief? Why, when they have done the same already, so many years before?<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/06/chapter-seven.html">next chapter</a><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5264713137247978317-2555952254531816813?l=myrmidon-online.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264713137247978317.post-60133885339552404512008-06-16T02:27:00.002-04:002008-09-03T15:12:39.298-04:00<p><br />The next few hours passed in a relative flurry of activity as Aeneat and Anai did their best to get Lars stabilized. Aeneat helped lower Lars onto his bed before grabbing the keys to the hover and leaving to fetch the doctor. He returned barely fifteen minutes later with a pale man in tow, and the two disappeared into Lars’ bedroom. They sent Anai out for various supplies over the next several hours, partially due to a genuine need for materials but also in an attempt to keep her from wringing her hands and worrying in their way.<br /><br />The man labeled 08 did not witness Anai’s forays outside. He’d fled into one of the empty rooms, closing the door behind him and sinking down in its middle. Without any windows to let the light in from outside, he found it was almost as dark as where he had lived before, and he closed his eyes and was still.<br /><br />At first, he thought the darkness in the small room was different than what he was used to; it seemed less sinister, less worrying. Then he realized that the dark had remained the same, that it was him that had changed. Unlike before, now it calmed him, enveloping him like a mother might a frightened child. Comforting in its familiarity, it was the only thing that didn’t seem dizzying and threatening. It alone felt safe.<br /><br />Everything else he had seen confused him. Between the movement and the noise, there seemed to be too much of it all. Nothing seemed capable of helping him get his bearings, and for a moment he wished he had never left the room where he had first discovered sound. There, he had been a god. Here, he was only a small lost thing. Here he was helpless.<br /><br />Stretching out on his back, the man resented the floor for its cold solidity. He hated the thin streak of light under the door for its glowing intrusion and the sounds of Anai's comings and goings for their very existence. He wanted to erase everything from his mind, to undo the last couple of hours that had seemed to have stretched into days. He had been unprepared for any of it. He didn't see how he could ever be prepared.<br /><br />So he returned to what he knew: the sound of his blood in his ears, the air in his nostrils, his throat as he swallowed. He became lost in his body, so much so that he failed to notice when the noise outside began to die down. When the light under the door winked out, he paid it no mind. He fell asleep and dreamed fitful dreams that began and ended blurrily and left him with a feeling of familiarity when they finally faded into the corners of his mind.<br /><br />He wasn’t quite certain that he was awake when he peered out into the living area, nor did he plan on carefully opening Lars’ door and slipping inside. Once he had done so, however, he gave into the urge to look around. The room was dim, the only light coming from the small table lamp a short distance from the bed. Everything had been left much the same as when he and Anai had ventured inside earlier with the exception of a table that was now laden with various medical instruments and pill bottles. The man hovered near them for a moment, lifting one amber colored container and turning it over in his hands as the medicine clinked against his hands through the glass. He sat it down again and moved on, thumbing the edge of the medicinal tape and the soft fuzz on one white bandage. Then he looked back at the bed.<br /><br />Lars lay unconscious, frowning slightly even in his sleep. The blankets were folded at the level of his navel, revealing the bandage that stood stark against the dark skin over his ribs. His slow breathing was refreshingly even, and the man felt reassured as he kneeled near the bed to peer at the Drow more closely. He looked tired, worn, but nowhere near as forbidding as he did while awake. While the quiet was calming, the man realized he preferred Lars when he was awake and able to pass judgment from behind the dark lenses of his glasses.<br /><br />Shifting to relieve the weight on his knees, the man lowered his gaze back down to Lars’ bandage. He wondered what had happened to him; unable to connect the sound in his ears to the redness that had bloomed underneath Lars' fingers, he knew only that Lars had looked unwell – that he had been unwell if everyone’s reactions were a sign of anything. He considered what it might feel like, to seep out from inside one’s body, and remarked to himself that it certainly seemed unpleasant. Looking down at his hands, he wondered if the pale skin contained the same fluid or if he was filled with something different. What colors did Anai hide inside her? Or the other one, Aeneat? Perhaps people hid rainbows within them. Maybe that was what made them work.<br /><br />“What are you doing?” He startled, raising his gaze from Lars’ chest. The Drow’s expression was remarkably bland, eyes clouded by a haze of painkillers, and the man couldn’t help but stare, his jaw slightly slack. He had no real memories of the sky, but something told him Lars’ eyes were the color of threadbare clouds: a blue so pale it almost seemed white. There was no darkness to them at all, and the shock of their unfamiliarity left him in awe.<br /><br />Lars made a sound of mingled pain and impatience, frowning deeply. “Anai is willing to tolerate your silence. I’m not. What are you doing in my room?”<br /><br />The man shifted, Lars’ slow glare pulling a quiet response from his throat without his permission. “Looking.”<br /><br />If Lars was surprised, either at the answer or the fact that he received one at all, it didn’t register in his expression. Instead, he frowned more deeply. “At me,” he said. “Why?” When the man remained silent, fingers gripping the folds of fabric over his calves, Lars' voice turned steely. “Answer me. Why?”<br /><br />“I don’t know,” he swallowed thickly around his voice, reducing it to a whimper.<br /><br />For a moment it seemed as though Lars was going to push for another response, one that was more satisfying than professed ignorance, but instead he turned his head, looking away from his visitor in silence. It was a dismissal, and the man recognized it for what it was. Still, he sat there for a minute longer, half hoping Lars would turn toward him again so that he could stare into the strange lightness of those eyes once more. When it became clear waiting would get him nowhere, he finally pushed himself up, biting his lip before turning to leave the Drow in the solitude he obviously desired.<br /><br />“What’s your name?”<br /><br />The man hesitated in the doorway. He thought of Anai, of her reaction to the tattoo he had never seen, but still shook his head, “I don’t know that either.”<br /><br />“Then choose one,” Lars watched him for a moment longer before closing his eyes, and the man bit his lip once more before shutting the door behind him.<br /><br /><br /><br /></p><p align="right"><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/06/chapter-six.html">next chapter</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5264713137247978317-6013388533955240451?l=myrmidon-online.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264713137247978317.post-6817564256232307982008-06-14T14:20:00.001-04:002008-06-23T14:11:57.438-04:00<p><br />Anai had seen men rush to remove their clothing, but she had never known anyone who seemed to genuinely hate it quite like her new companion. His distaste had nothing to do with a desire to get into anyone else’s pants. Instead, he reminded her of a child who would strip whenever he could, hoping to be free of what he considered to be horribly constricting and completely useless.<br /><br />She’d managed to throw a blanket over him in the hover, not wanting to be stopped for violating indecency laws while driving through The Lows, and in hindsight she was extremely grateful that he hadn’t thrown it back off just as quickly. Instead, he’d taken to it, even after he pulled it from around his body, holding it in his arms and fingering a corner as he watched her dig through her comrades’ closets in the hope of finding something he might wear. So far she hadn’t had any luck.<br /><br />“You’re going to have to put something on eventually, you know,” she informed him from over her shoulder. He was silent, but she could still feel his gaze, focused and heavy like a damp towel over her shoulders. “And you’re going to have to speak to us sooner or later too.” He conveyed his disagreement quite clearly by continuing to say nothing at all. Anai sighed and dug more deeply into the closet before finally giving up.<br /><br />She’d riffled through everyone’s things besides Lars’, knowing that he was particularly sensitive about his privacy, but there was no helping it now. The silent man was either too slender or too tall for anyone else’s things to fit him. In contrast, Lars had a few inches on him, which meant whatever pants she grabbed would likely be a little too long, but beyond that she was pretty sure they’d fit. Still, she felt a bit like a sneaky little sister when she opened the door to Lars’ room and stepped inside.<br /><br />Anai had never managed to get a good look at Lars’ bedroom, but she wasn’t surprised by what she saw. It looked lived in, but more like a hotel room than a semi-permanent home. Lars hadn’t placed any knick-knacks on the tabletops. He hadn’t hung anything on the walls, and there were no family photographs anywhere Anai could see. Nothing suggested Lars planned on staying around long at all, and yet he had been here for at least several months before Anai stepped on the scene with her younger sister in tow. She sighed, shaking her head, “Lars, Lars, Lars. If this is how you Drow are, no wonder no one understands you guys at all.”<br /><br />She made a beeline for his closet, opening the double doors and peering inside. It was as well organized as the rest of the room, pants to the left, shirts to the right, and Anai grabbed both in a soft cream color if only because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Lars wear either. “Alright, you,” she managed a slight smile. “Lets get out of here and into this stylish clothing.”<br /><br />The silent man looked up from his examination of Lars’ table lamp, frowning faintly but moving forward nonetheless. Anai turned the lights off and gently closed the door behind her. Pulling the blanket from his grip, she replaced it with the pants. At his sour expression, she shook her head. “It’s my blanket after all, you know. But you can have it back after you get dressed.”<br /><br />She felt rather like she was treating a grown man like a young child, and she got the impression that he wasn’t particularly happy with her, but eventually the deal scored her a semi-dressed companion. She placed the shirt in his outstretched hands, knowing full well that wasn’t what he’d been after, “Finish getting dressed and I’ll hand it over, promise. You’ve got to put the shirt on if you aren’t going to button those pants.” He fumbled with the shirt for a moment but eventually got his head and his arms in all the right places, and she returned the blanket obligingly.<br /><br />“A grown man with a security blanket,” she laughed, moving behind him to pull his hair from his shirt collar. “Who’ve thunk it?”<br /><br />His hair was soft and thick in her hands, and lifting it free revealed the dark lines of a tattoo low on the nape of his neck. Anai frowned, curious, and carefully pulled the shirt down a bit to reveal more of the design only to discover that it wasn’t a design at all. “08?” she asked. He looked back at her and she frowned more deeply, “What’s that all about?”<br /><br />He didn’t respond, but for once he didn’t need to. Anai clearly thought she had enough of an idea. “Those <i>fuckers</i>! Is that what they called you?” She turned away, hands tightened into fists, “It’s not enough that they herd us like cattle down here. Now they’re using us for damn lab rats! What did they <i>do</i> to you?”<br /><br />It was more of a demand than a question, but he still didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He wasn’t sure who “they” was, but more importantly he couldn’t remember anyone doing anything to him at all. He remembered the darkness, a soreness in his throat, creating sound, and then Anai standing in light brighter than he knew even existed. Since then, there had been an abundance of both light and sound; Anai seemed to create both constantly, enough that it shocked him into silence, a conservation of his own abilities, into the role of a quiet observer.<br /><br />But Anai didn’t want to be observed. She wanted answers, and in her frustration she reached forward to grip his shoulders with clenched fingers. “You have to tell us what they did to you!” She spoke with a fervor that startled him, and when she shook him a little he reached up to push her away.<br /><br />His hands connected with the sound of a strong gust of wind or a forceful exhalation, and for a moment Anai was blinded. The next thing she saw was the man who was labeled 08 staring wide-eyed at her with a shocked expression. She was halfway across the room, half sprawled on the floor near Lars’ door, back aching from the impact.<br /><br />“What—?” she wasn’t sure what she was going to ask, but it was clear he had no answer for her anyway. “Who <i>are</i> you?”<br /><br />He remained silent, round eyes riveted to her. He didn’t turn when the front door opened behind him, but Anai could see Aeneat step inside, staggering a bit under Lars’ weight.<br /><br />“Help me, Anai. He’s too heavy.” She pushed herself up with a faint wince and moved to Lars’ other side. It was then that she saw the grimace on his face. He’d been shot, and the blood left a blooming stain that centered under the hand pressed against his ribs.<br /><br />"Lars! I shouldn't have... I'm sorry!"<br /><br />He didn't lift his head to look at her as she took some of his weight off Aeneat's shoulders. Together they helped him to his room, the door sliding shut behind them and leaving the man labeled 08 standing confused and alone outside.<br /><br /><br /><br /></p><p align="right"><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/06/chapter-five.html">next chapter</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5264713137247978317-681756425623230798?l=myrmidon-online.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264713137247978317.post-36121060101122800442008-06-07T02:27:00.003-04:002008-06-23T14:11:19.843-04:00<p><br />“Can you stand?” Lars’ voice wasn't particularly kind when he spoke to the man, nor was his grip especially gentle when he reached down to pull him up. When the pale figure remained standing, however, Lars allowed himself a soft sigh of relief. No amount of quick thinking would have saved them if their new companion couldn’t at least stay on his feet. “…Good. And I’m going to assume your silence isn’t a sign that you don’t know what I’m saying?” The lack of response was less encouraging, and he glanced over at Anai.<br /><br />Anai paused before moving closer to the pair, resting a hand on one pale arm but quickly pulling back when it flinched under her palm. “Hey… can you understand us at all?”<br /><br />There was a brief hesitation but then a nod. Lars’ eyebrow arched. “Fine, since he answers you, you can stay with him.”<br /><br />“Me?” Anai frowned, “What about you?”<br /><br />Lars was already on his way toward the door, “We need a distraction, and out of the two of us I’m much more likely to be able to take care of that without getting myself killed.” That could have been a quick dig, but if it was Anai didn’t even notice it. “You said you parked the hover against the wall to the south. I’ll draw the guards to the East Wing while you bring Silence over there out with you. Let Aeneat know what’s going on when you get back.”<br /><br />Anai didn’t look impressed. Even if this was surprisingly considerate of Lars, it sounded far too much like he was signing himself up for a suicide mission. She opened her mouth to say so, but he interrupted her smoothly. “Unless you’ve got a better idea..? I’m sure the guards will think to check this room sooner or later. Especially when they realize they’re short a man. Just don’t get caught.”<br /><br />She hesitated but nodded a moment later. As much as she hated to admit it, Lars was more likely to be able to hold out until she could get back to the base and fetch Aeneat. When it came down to it, she wasn’t good at anything that required stealth. Loud explosions, sudden bursts of fire: those things she could manage. Neither would help much at this point. That was, unless…<br /><br />Lars found the way Anai suddenly brightened to be rather concerning, but there wasn’t enough time to convince her not to do whatever scatterbrained thing she had gotten it in her mind to do. Instead, he shot her one last warning look. Then he was gone.<br /><br />Taking a deep breath, Anai closed her eyes and whispered a brief prayer on Lars’ behalf. Then she dropped to her knees, unzipping her pack. Over the last few years, she had discovered that keeping a disabled bomb with her was usually a pretty good way to expand her options. Now, for example, she just had to finish preparing the detonator and she would have a fully functional if fairly miniature device to work with.<br /><br />It didn’t take long for her to complete the circuit, and she set the device to go off in a minute and a half. She reasoned that would be more than enough time for them to get away if the guards had taken Lars’ bait. If they hadn't, she would have bigger things to worry about. Pushing herself to her feet, she set the bomb on the dais with a slight smile and cued the countdown. If all else failed, she knew they’d still leave the compound with one hell of a bill.<br /><br />“Alright,” Anai took hold of her charge’s hand. “You stick close. We’ve got to gun it out of here!”<br /><br />The man didn’t say anything and stumbled a bit when she first pulled him forward. After that, however, she was relieved to find him fairly nimble on his feet. She wasn’t sure what Lars had done to gather so much attention, but whatever it was he'd done it well. They didn't see more than a couple of guards during their dash down the hallway, far fewer than it took to stop Anai from fleeing a bomb when she had a weapon in her hand. Evidently, the compound had not only skimped on quality with the armed personnel, but they also appeared to have favored an economy sized team when drawing their contract. Nothing there made any sense at all. The government wasn't usually so stingy when protecting its bases.<br /><br />Gunfire rang out to the northeast, and Anai felt her heart leap into her throat. It got stuck there when the bomb went off with far more force than it should have, the explosion triggering an artificial downpour when the sprinklers clicked on. There must have been something particularly volatile in that room -- nothing else could explain the strength of what should have been a relatively small blast. There was a silver lining to consider, however, and Anai managed a faint smile in response: if that didn’t get some of the guards off Lars’ ass, nothing would.<span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><span style="font-weight: bold;">. . . . . . . . . . </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">. . . . . . . . . .</span></center><br /><br /></span><br />Anai called the base while they were on the road, relaying what had happened and reciting Lars’ ping number. By the time she made it back, she had just enough time to watch Aeneat slip on a helmet and speed off on one of the motorcycles in the opposite direction. Anai told herself things would work out, that Aeneat could fix this and bring Lars back without any extra bloodshed on their part. She had to believe that; she could handle costing them the objective, but she wasn’t prepared to be the reason they lost another comrade.<br /><br />The group had lost quite a few recently, all due to botched missions. This job had been in response to that. The files were, of course, important -- some top secret information about a program that officially didn’t exist -- but pulling this off would have dealt another blow as well. They would have been able to say they’d infiltrated a top level compound, gone straight to its heart, and scooped something out. It would have brought in some new recruits, which they needed. Desperately. You couldn't stage a revolution without revolutionaries.<br /><br />Anai sighed as she punched in her key code, opening the first of several doors that led to the abandoned bomb shelter's interior. She didn’t regret botching the mission. Not really. Leaving a man immobilized in a dark room wasn’t something she could ever justify. But if Lars died because of it… she didn’t let herself finish that thought. As much as he annoyed her, she wasn't sure what she would do then.<br /><br />Shaking herself out of increasingly guilt-ridden thoughts, she turned back toward the silent man behind her. Beating herself up about something that hadn't, and wouldn't, happen wasn't doing anyone any good. The least she could do was be productive. She'd get her new acquaintance settled and then get to work preparing for the next mission. She smiled faintly, giving the man's hand a light squeeze. “Alright you. Lets get you dry and put you in some clothing. Can’t have you running around all naked forever. Might distract the natives. Then maybe I'll get you to talk to me a little bit.”<br /><br />There was, of course, no answer but he certainly seemed to be listening. That apparently was enough encouragement for Anai to keep up a steady stream of chatter while they went downstairs. As it turned out, none of the natives were home. She could only hope that everyone was alright.<br /><br /><br /><br /></p><p align="right"><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/06/chapter-four.html">next chapter</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5264713137247978317-3612106010112280044?l=myrmidon-online.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264713137247978317.post-66627178660926266012008-06-04T10:26:00.000-04:002008-06-07T08:18:01.546-04:00<br><p>This, Lars decided, was a perfect example of why he preferred to work by himself. On a solo mission, there was no need to worry about having someone else trip off the alarm and his comm. unit did not suddenly ring mayday in his ear. More importantly, had he been alone he strongly doubted he'd be forced to abandon his objective – a file folder on the other side of the office door in front of him – in order to save someone else's ass.<br /><br />Lars turned and moved toward Anai's ping on his unit, cloaking spell firmly in place and shades drawn over his eyes. They wouldn't get another chance to grab those papers, but some things were more important than objectives. If nothing else, Anai was his ticket off the base. He couldn't leave her behind and letting her get captured would spell out his death so clearly he swore he could see it in neon. He just wished she could have gotten in trouble a few minutes later when he would have had those documents in hand. He would be sure to tell her all about that disappointment later.<br /><br />It didn't take him long to sneak past the guards, soft-soled boots making little sound on the floor, but waiting for them to vacate the hallway outside Anai's ping would have taken considerably more patience than Lars possessed. He made a token effort before knocking a lone guard on the back of the head with the pommel of his weapon, lips twitching at the rather satisfying crack of metal and bone. He caught the unfortunate man as he fell and dragged him quickly into the room before letting him drop and stepping over his body.<br /><br />The room seemed obnoxiously bright, more so than the hallway if anything, and Lars pushed his dark glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose. The place itself was large and filled with the sort of technological gadgetry that he had no use for, giant machines with various buttons, keys, switches. The coup de grace, however, was in the middle of the floor hovering over a slightly raised dais. It also was not alone; Anai was slowly pushing herself onto the platform as if pulled by a magnetic thread. Lars reached up to jerk her back.<br /><br />"Idiot! That's how you ruined your face in the first place." <br /><br />Anai told herself he didn't mean for it to come out as harshly as it did but the sharp words still stung. "No actually, that was a bomb." She'd long grown used to the burn scar that stretched over her cheek. Still, Lars certainly had a way with words: a particularly unromantic one. As a result, she couldn't help but glare at him a little. He, of course, didn’t seem to notice.<br /><br />"And I'm sure your sticking your nose where it didn't belong had absolutely nothing to do with it." Her glare gained a little more potency, but she backed away from the dais. Lars let go of her elbow.<br /><br />He had to admit: he could understand what had Anai so fascinated. There was a man floating a good four feet above the dais. Beyond the fact that he was extraordinarily pale – a fact made clear by his absolute lack of clothing – Lars decided he looked utterly normal. His ears were perfectly rounded, which meant any elven influence on his heritage was slight enough to be ignored. In fact, there was no sign that he was anything other than human. So why was he here?<br /><br />Lars was jerked from his consideration by the onset of clicking noises behind him. “Anai…” He turned his head toward her, shooting her an exasperated look. She'd moved away from the dais, yes, but apparently only to fidget with one of the machines near the room’s perimeter. “Anai. What are you doing?”<br /><br />”Working on getting him down.” She paused, nibbling at her fingertip before pressing a few more buttons. Lars’ eyebrow arched skeptically but beyond that nothing seemed to happen.<br /><br />”Ah, I see,” he said, turning to face her completely. “I must not have been paying attention. I completely missed when you learned how to work those machines.” <br /><br />Anai decided: this was why she had always hated working with Lars. Everyone always said that Drow were just naturally unpleasant. Or really, everyone always said they were foul, sneaky, dishonest, thieving, murderous creatures that didn’t bathe except in the blood of their victims. Lars took showers. That was about all she could give him.<br /><br />”You do realize,” he continued, “that those buttons could be doing anything from giving him electric shocks to calling the guards.” She pressed a few more buttons and turned a knob or two. “Or that he could be highly dangerous, which would explain why they’ve got him immobilized.”<br /><br />Anai finally looked up at Lars from over the top of the console. “Does he <i>look</i> dangerous, Lars?”<br /><br />“Do we?” And that was when Anai realized she had been wrong before. <i>This</i> was why she had always hated working with Lars. Not only was he unbearably unpleasant but he was also right far too frequently. She glared at him for a moment more and then went back to pressing buttons with a soft sound of frustration. <br /><br />Her reward came about thirty seconds later in the form of an electric crackle, the faint smell of smoke, and the sound of a shocked body falling four feet to the ground.<br /><br />“There. That'll teach you to doubt me.”<br /><br />Lars, unfortunately, had stopped paying her much attention. Instead, he was fully focused on the man who had once been levitating but was now laying on the floor. He sighed. "Fine. So while I'm not doubting you, what would you have us do with him?”<br /><br />Anai shot him a slightly nervous smile. "Well I was kind of hoping this would be where you took over." While she would later remark that Lars didn't look quite so evil when he was surprised, at the moment his shock was far more frightening than anything else he could have done. She bit her lip. "I just kind of fucked us over, didn't I?"<br /><br /><br><br><p align="right"><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/06/chapter-three.html">next chapter</a><br></p><br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5264713137247978317-6662717866092626601?l=myrmidon-online.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264713137247978317.post-4106777998301147812008-06-01T05:38:00.010-04:002008-06-25T05:41:17.660-04:00<p><span style="font-size:100%;"><br />When he opened his eyes, he realized several things at once. The first was that it was extraordinarily dark. He would not have been able to see his hand had he waved it in front of his face.<br /><br />The second was that he couldn't move his hand. He couldn't move anything at all. He strained to force his body into motion, focusing first on his head, then his hands, then his feet, before finally recalling that this was how it had always been. He could not remember ever moving, just as he had trouble remembering opening his eyes to see anything but the blackness around him.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:100%;">He wasn’t sure where he was because he’d never known where he was. He had the strange sensation that he was laying down, but he couldn’t feel anything beneath him. Indeed, nothing seemed to touch him anywhere. This didn’t seem strange; nothing ever seemed to touch him anywhere. The very idea that something could hadn’t occurred to him yet.<br /><br />But he thought. He thought of the possibilities: that he was alone, disembodied, floating through a void that stretched in all directions, a dream in the mind of a child or a god surveying a world he hadn't yet created. Looking out into the darkness once more, he wanted to will something into existence, a barely remembered body or a hazy field of flowers, anything that could fill some of this space. When nothing would, he raged, holding his breath with a pinched expression. His blood pulsed through his ears. Hearing it forced everything else from his mind.<br /><br />He inhaled sharply to listen as the air rushed inside his nostrils and exhaled an uncertain note that trembled out between his lips. Lashes fluttering, he breathed in once more, this time letting the air out in a short bark. He knew his throat would be too sore to continue soon, but until then he would hum, cry, and burble into the darkness. The next time he opened his mouth a loud boom filled the air.<br /><br />He smiled. He rediscovered sound.<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><span style="font-weight: bold;">. . . . . . . . . . </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">. . . . . . . . . .</span></center><br /><br /><br />“O-Eight’s at it again?” Geff turned toward the monitors, pressing a few buttons until the cameras trained on the proper room. Although the night vision turned everything a slightly granular green, he could still see the figure’s chest heave as it gathered enough air for the guttural noises reaching the watchtower. “What the hell’s that thing doing? None of the others ever made all that noise!”<br /><br />Divina leaned over the arm of her office chair, shaking her head at the screen, “Yeah well, the loons did say they made some changes with this one. Guess mouthing off is one of the improvements.”<br /><br />Geff pushed against the back of his seat, rubbing his face with the heels of his hands, “It’s getting really fucking old, man. I hope his voice gives out early tonight.” He slammed his hand down on the mute key a little harder than necessary.<br /><br />“Geff, you know you can’t—”<br /><br />“Yeah, yeah,” he interrupted. “Not allowed to be anything less than fully attentive. Whatever, Divina. Like shit’s gonna happen.” She shot him a look before turning back to her set of monitors.<br /><br />“It’s your ass.”<br /><br />Geff just snorted and put his feet up, crossing his legs at the ankles. “You bet.” He remained silent for a minute or so before lolling his head to the side to look at the other guard.<br /><br />Geff prided himself in being a relatively good judge of character, but Divina, she was hard to read. Drumming his fingers on the armrest of his chair, he watched her from behind the protective shades of his uniform. He had to admit she was a pretty young thing, small and slender with brown baby-hair that feathered out from under her helmet. She had some light freckles over her cheeks and nose, just enough to make him wonder how far down her body the spots extended. Maybe over her shoulders, down her back, across her—<br /><br />“What?”<br /><br />Shit, she looked cross. Geff raised his hands in universal surrender. “Nothing, nothing!”<br /><br />She was attractive, definitely, but clearly off limits. Wedding band notwithstanding, she was downright prickly. More importantly, she didn’t seem to care for him very much, in spite of – or perhaps because of – how friendly he’d been toward her. Still, Geff found the impossible usually made for the best fantasies, and with work being as slow as it was he had lots of time for fantasizing.<br /><br />“So…” He grinned widely. “How about breakfast at my place?”<br /><br />The request itself wasn’t too shady, but the way he said it made it clear breakfast would take place in a very rumpled bed. “Sod off,” Divina didn’t bother taking her eyes off the screen in front of her.<br /><br />“But I make a fantastic omelette. You’ve really gotta try it.”<br /><br />“Not hungry.” She sounded distracted. He took advantage of it.<br /><br />“Ah, well I could always help you work up an appetite.” It was too easy, but she wasn’t taking the bait, her nose held close to the monitor.<br /><br />“…Geff. Shut up. I’m looking at something.” Dragging his eyes up from her chest, he finally noticed her squint. He sat up, wheeling his chair closer so he could peer at the shadowy image with her. They really needed to invest in some better camera equipment.<br /><br />He was about ready to tease Divina for imagining things when he saw it: one of the shadows was definitely moving. “Fuck. Someone’s there. I’ll call it in.” Divina nodded.<br /><br />Cradling the phone against his shoulder, he dialed headquarters. “Observation tower. Suspicious activity in corridor 415—“<br /><br />The explosion interrupted him. He didn’t even get the chance to warn Divina.<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><span style="font-weight: bold;">. . . . . . . . . . </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">. . . . . . . . . .</span></center><br /><br /><br />Anai straightened and brought the communicator to her lips. “Obs-out, but they were mid-report. You’d better haul ass, Lars.” She waited for the soft static to signify Lars copied before leaning flush against the wall. She’d give him a moment and then start making her way out. Not the way she’d come in of course – she figured the guards would be all over that corridor by now – but she’d parked her hover along one of the back walls. She could head that way and make her own exit when she got there.<br /><br />It was eerily quiet as she made her way down the corridor, one hand resting on the pistol at her hip. They were, after all, in one of the higher ranked compounds. Where was all the security? Had they relied on secrecy to keep them safe? It just didn’t make sense.<br /><br />Pausing at a junction, Anai pulled the comm. out once more and pressed a few buttons, pulling the building’s blueprints onto the view screen. She’d taken the wing’s observation tower out with a remote detonator, always good for a distraction while Lars did his thing a good distance away. So where was the swarm of armed lackeys, come to save the day for their employers? Where were the red emergency lights, the alarms? What the fuck was going on?<br /><br />She turned left, keeping close to the wall as she did so. According to the blueprints, it shouldn’t be too long before she could blow the brick and mortar and jet it. It had all been too easy, going directly according to plan. This, she decided, would be the perfect time for everything to go wrong.<br /><br />The alarm went off, loud and shrill, barely a minute later. Worse still: the lights came on. Blinded by the sudden fluorescence, Anai threw an arm over her eyes, grip tightening on her gun as if she could see well enough to shoot it. She had to get out, or at least get out of the open. She moved with new determination toward the outside wall only to be deterred by the unmistakable sensation of a bullet flying an inch or so away from her head. Holding her breath, she returned fire, exhaling only when she saw the guard fall to the floor. That should buy her some time, not enough to make a getaway but at least enough to find a good hiding place.<br /><br />Pressing the mayday button on the communicator, Anai sprinted down the hallway. She’d duck into one of the rooms and see if she couldn’t find a vent to crawl through. Lars would be able to find the source of her signal and, hopefully, come get her without getting himself killed. She bit her lip and cracked one of the doors midway down the corridor, squeezing inside and closing it with a barely audible click.<br /><br />It was far too dark to see anything, and Anai stuck close to the wall, groping it in search of a light switch. Then she heard it: someone was already hiding in here, breath audible in the otherwise silent room. Anai raised her gun, aiming into the room as her other hand finally found the switch. She’d blind whomever it was with the same brightness that had shocked her in the hallway. Hopefully she could use that opportunity to her advantage.<br /><br />Narrowing her eyes, Anai tightened her grip on her gun and flipped the switch. “Fucking hell..!”<br /><br />08 felt exactly the same way.</span><br /></p><br /><p><br /></p><p align="right"><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/06/chapter-two.html">next chapter</a><br /><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5264713137247978317-410677799830114781?l=myrmidon-online.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264713137247978317.post-22772539715038584232008-06-01T05:35:00.015-04:002008-06-26T12:34:58.346-04:00<p><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><center><b>History As We Would Have It Told</b><br />Author Unknown<br />372nd year of the Era of Peace<br /></center><br /><br />There are stories that must be told that one hates to remember. Where one committed shameful acts or, still worse, moved aside and did nothing. These are the stories that are swept out of the halls of memory, trampled upon, and willfully forgotten.<br /><br />We bear one such story, but we refuse to bear it quietly. Not now when we recognize the coming of its brethren, the repetition of our past errors. Not now when the horizon is scarred by all that we told ourselves we would never allow to happen again, the very things they tell us never happened at all.<br /><br />We must raise our voices now else it will be as though we have never spoken. Please, allow us to make you a witness to our history. Let me outline how it began, however briefly. Let me tell you the origins our world.<br /></span></p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">. . . . . . . . . . </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">. . . . . . . . . .</span><br /></div><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size:100%;">Once there was the light, a brightness that pulsed with the beat of existence. The light tensed and, in a moment of great rupture, became life. This is our creation story.<br /><br />The land was parceled between all things large and small, and there was Great Peace for many centuries. Inside the forests, elves fostered their empire atop the trees, spires forcing their way through the leaves. Nearby, humans cultivated the plains and farmed the land while building cities motivated by steam. The winged avians and stout dwarves shared the mountainous land to the south, the former taking to the sky while the latter bored successively deeper into the earth. Things were well.<br /><br />Yet as all things do, the Peace eventually came to an end. In their insatiable desire for more, humans overtaxed the land. The game fled elsewhere as the exhausted fields were sapped of their nutrients. Summer draught devastated even the most stubborn crops, leaving man to venture into the woods to hunt for his food. Blinded by their hunger, a small party failed to recognize one of the sacred steer before the creature fell dying at their feet. The elves, enraged in their mourning, struck out under the cover of nightfall to burn the hunting village to the ground.<br /><br />And so it began. The elves called upon their airborne cousins for aid while the dwarves abandoned their mines in favor of armor and their human allies. It took over a century for the war to dissolve into a tentative peace, but that was more than long enough. When the dead had been counted and buried, the survivors were left to explore their crippled land. The rivers dried to their beds as all around them died and became barren. Fearful of an attack and desiring to protect the little they had left, the elves launched another offensive, taking mankind by complete surprise.<br /><br />When it was over, the humans and their allies were subjugated, forced to live under the careful watch of their more mystical brethren. Intermarriage, always frowned upon, was strictly prohibited, and any illicit “half breeds” were forced into the same unfortunate fate as their mortal ancestry: to live in the lowest levels of society, perpetually in need of a little more than they could hope to achieve.<br /><br />So it would continue until now. A collective murmur has begun to rise up from the ranks of such “half breeds.” There is quiet talk of a revolution. For many this amounts to little more than disgruntled muttering, but for a scant few it is beginning to resemble something very different, something dangerous.<br /><br />Ambition.<br /><br /><br /><br /><p align="right"><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/06/chapter-one.html">next chapter</a></p><br /></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5264713137247978317-2277253971503858423?l=myrmidon-online.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264713137247978317.post-1295884594094566022008-05-30T19:24:00.003-04:002008-06-23T10:33:52.162-04:00<p style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);"><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-weight: bold;">myr·mi·don</span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">:</span> a loyal follower; <i>especially</i> : a subordinate who executes orders unquestioningly or unscrupulously.<br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-weight: bold;">Q.</span> What fonts are used in <span style="font-style: italic;">Myrmidon’s</span> banners?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">A.</span> “Myrmidon” is written using “Bleeding Cowboy.”<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-weight: bold;">Q.</span> What do you use to draw?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">A.</span> Generally Painter 9 and my 6x8 Wacom. Any color pieces were done on a Dell, but sketches may have been made while using a MacBook.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-weight: bold;">Q.</span> How come you only schedule updates on Tuesday and Friday?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">A.</span> Unfortunately, I’m a full time graduate student with two jobs. I just can’t commit to a more vigorous schedule. Tuesday and Friday work well because this not only coincides with two of my lighter workdays but also puts the novel updating on one popular MWF day and one “off” day. I would love to switch to a three day updating schedule, and may be able to do so at least temporarily over the summer.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-weight: bold;">Q.</span> Who are you?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">A.</span> Beyond the student/worker combination, I’m a 20-something North American with a very active imagination. I like sci-fi and fantasy… hence <span style="font-style: italic;">Myrmidon</span>!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5264713137247978317-129588459409456602?l=myrmidon-online.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264713137247978317.post-60309412372554270832008-05-30T19:24:00.002-04:002008-06-14T21:45:25.195-04:00<br><p><a name="topjump" id="contentjump"></a><br /><br /><center><a href="#favnovs">Favorite Webnovels</a> | <a href="#favoth">Other Favorites</a><br /><a href="#linkme">Linking to Myrmidon</a><br /><br><br><br><br><br><br /><br /><br><br><br><br><br><br /><br /><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a name="favnovs" id="contentjump"></a><br><br /><b>Favorite Webnovels</b><br /><br /><a href="http://faerietalesonline.blogspot.com"><img src="http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm72/myrmid/siteimages/links/FTbutton1copy.jpg"></a><br /><br /><p align="right"><i><a href="#topjump">[back to top]</a></i></p><br /><br /><br /><br><br><br><br><br><br /><br><br><br><br><br><br /><br /><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br /><br /><br /><br /><a name="favoth" id="contentjump"></a><br><br /><br /><b>Other Favorites</b><br /><br /><a href="http://fantasyherald.com/fh/index.html">Fantasy Herald Button Exchange</a><br /><a href="http://www.pagesunbound.com">Pages Unbound</a><br /><br /><p align="right"><i><a href="#topjump">[back to top]</a></i></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br><br /><br><br><br><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a name="linkme" id="contentjump"></a><br><br /><br />Want to link to Myrmidon? Feel free to use the following button!*<br /><br /><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com"><img src="http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm72/myrmid/siteimages/links/myr120x60.jpg"></a>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<textarea rows="3" cols="20"><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com"><img src="http://i293.photobucket.com/albums/mm72/myrmid/siteimages/links/myr120x60.jpg"></a></textarea></p><br /><br />*Note: this button will change occasionally. If you're particularly partial to the above image, please save it to your own server.</center><br /><br /><p align="right"><i><a href="#topjump">[back to top]</a></i></p><br><br><br><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5264713137247978317-6030941237255427083?l=myrmidon-online.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264713137247978317.post-45319552837853135182008-05-30T19:17:00.001-04:002008-06-23T10:34:39.434-04:00<p><a name="topjump" id="contentjump"></a><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><center>Warning!</center></span><br />These profiles may contain spoilers regarding the characters' histories and motivations. If you want to learn about everyone more slowly, consider skipping this page. If you want a little quick and dirty, however, read on.<br /><br />Profiles are added as characters are introduced.<br /><br /><br /><center>Click a character's name to view his/her profile<br /><br /><p><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=5264713137247978317&amp;postID=4531955283785313518#anaijump">Anai</a> | <a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=5264713137247978317&amp;postID=4531955283785313518#larsjump">Lars</a></p></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a name="anaijump" id="contentjump"></a><br /><b>Anai</b><br />race: Half-Elf<br />age: mid 20’s<br />height: 5’4”<br />hair color: dark red<br />eye color: gray<br />proficiencies: explosives and demolition; handguns<br /><br />Anai’s love-hate relationship with TNT began at an early age when a bomb exploded near her tenement, killing her parents and scarring her face. She became determined to learn whatever she could about the violence that destroyed her childhood and is now adept at building a startlingly wide variety of destructive devices. Unfortunately, the same driven curiosity that helps to motivate her studies also frequently gets her into all sorts of sticky situations. Her comrades joke that "mayday" just means "Anai" in another language. She says they're only teasing because she's beautiful.<br /><p align="right"><i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=5264713137247978317&amp;postID=4531955283785313518#topjump">[back to top]</a></i></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a name="larsjump" id="contentjump"></a><br /><br /><b>Lars</b><br />race: Drow<br />age: 83<br />height: 6’2”<br />hair color: white<br />eye color: cloudy blue<br />proficiencies: magical optics; warped healing magic; swordsmanship<br /><br />Eight out of nine children think Lars is a scary bastard, and if asked, Lars would argue he has every right to be angry. Exiled with his half breed mother, he witnessed his father’s politically sanctioned assassination, handed down for the double offense of “being Drow and sleeping with a halfie.”<br /><br />Lars’ magical gift is strong enough that he could live fairly comfortably if he decided to pass as a fullblood and endure the prejudices against Drow, but his anger at his parents’ treatment led him to join the resistance group instead. Unfortunately, because there are no magic schools available to half breeds, his power is largely wild, unpredictable, and dependent on his temper. Thankfully, Lars is generally not hotheaded. However, he remains rather unreliable in emotionally charged situations.<br /><p align="right"><i><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=5264713137247978317&amp;postID=4531955283785313518#topjump">[back to top]</a></i></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5264713137247978317-4531955283785313518?l=myrmidon-online.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264713137247978317.post-40764068593538578292008-05-21T22:10:00.013-04:002008-08-30T00:08:18.225-04:00July 4, 2008: Apologies all. The American holiday has me a bit behind schedule. Today's update will be pushed back a day to sometime Saturday.<br /><br />June 28, 2008: Chapter Eleven is up as well! Next update is Tuesday, with quiet edits made between now and then.<br /><br />June 27, 2008: Chapter Ten is up. The bonus will go up at some point in the AM.<br /><br />June 26, 2008: The update has been posted. Myrmidon has also been indexed in Pages Unbound! Definitely consider checking that site out if you haven't already; it's a great place to find new serials.<br /><br />June 24, 2008: Myrmidon will be updated on Thursday and Friday this week, with another bonus chapter accompanying Friday's update as an apology for the unexpected switch.<br /><br />June 23, 2008: Myrmidon is lightening up with a new layout! The serial has also joined a second banner exchange, has a new banner to celebrate, and has been updated with revised versions of the first few chapters.<br /><br />June 20, 2008: Chapter Eight has been added. The Sketch Depot has also been updated since the last chapter.<br /><br />June 18, 2008: Chapter Seven is up, on EST no less!<br /><br />June 18, 2008: We're officially moving to EST, which means I'm slightly late but getting there. Chapter Six is up. Please use this link to access it. Another bonus update will be posted by 6 pm. See here to learn why tonight's update is rather wonky.<br /><br />June 15, 2008: Chapter Five has been posted, and the bonus chapter will be up in a few hours. Please use the Table of Contents if you would like to view the new posts in order. Myrmidon is back on schedule now, with the next update on Tuesday.<br /><br />June 14, 2008: Chapter Four is up. I'm currently editing/rewriting several of the preceding chapters, and will add a links page to the Navi later today. Thanks for your patience! Next chapter and a bonus will go up tomorrow.<br /><br />June 11, 2008: Due to unforeseen circumstances, I will be unable to update until the weekend. I will be updating at least once on Saturday and Sunday, and will be writing a bonus chapter as an apology. Very sorry!<br /><br />June 6, 2008: Chapter Three is up, and there's a link to my LiveJournal underneath the email contact link. I will be away for a few days. Chapter Four will likely be posted on Wednesday.<br /><br />June 4, 2008: Chapter Two is up along with a new profile. The sketch depot is scheduled for another update later.<br /><br />June 3, 2008: My cat's first day home after surgery has left me drained and behind schedule. Today's update will likely be delayed until sometime Wednesday morning. My apologies.<br /><br />June 1, 2008: Prologue and Chapter One are up, and one new profile has been added. Myrmidon is now a happy member of the Fantasy Herald Button Exchange! There's also a rudimentary navigation system in place. Next story update on Tuesday.<br /><br />May 30, 2008: Sketch Depot is live! Sidebar links all go to their proper places, even if said places remain largely unoccupied for the moment.<br /><br />May 21, 2008: It's the blog's birthday! Working hard behind the scenes in preparation for June 1.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5264713137247978317-4076406859353857829?l=myrmidon-online.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5264713137247978317.post-23583761628648814282008-05-20T06:26:00.012-04:002008-09-03T00:39:01.652-04:00<p></p><center><br /><b>Book One</b><br /><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/06/prologue-history-as-we-would-have-it.html">Prologue</a><br /><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/06/chapter-one.html">Chapter One</a><br /><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/06/chapter-two.html">Chapter Two</a><br /><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/06/chapter-three.html">Chapter Three</a><br /><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/06/chapter-four.html">Chapter Four</A><br /><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/06/chapter-five.html">Chapter Five</a><br /><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/06/chapter-six.html">Chapter Six</a><br /><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/06/interlude-eternal-guard.html">Interlude</a><br /><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/06/chapter-seven.html">Chapter Seven</a><br /><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/06/chapter-eight.html">Chapter Eight</a><br /><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/06/chapter-nine.html">Chapter Nine</a><br /><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/06/chapter-ten.html">Chapter Ten</a><br /><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/06/chapter-eleven.html">Chapter Eleven</a><br /><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/07/chapter-twelve.html">Chapter Twelve</a><br /><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/07/chapter-thirteen.html">Chapter Thirteen</a><br /><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/08/chapter-fourteen.html">Chapter Fourteen</a><br /><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/08/chapter-fifteen.html">Chapter Fifteen</a><br /><a href="http://myrmidon-online.blogspot.com/2008/09/chapter-sixteen.html">Chapter Sixteen</a><br /><br /><br /><p></p></center><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5264713137247978317-2358376162864881428?l=myrmidon-online.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>vylihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15987385204038652777noreply@blogger.com