Prologue

“You stand before the Council of Elders for your use of the ‘dark arts’, Nym,” the High Elder growled. “You used the arts that have been banned since Ward was founded.” She was an old Nord hag.

The people of Ward, my ‘adoptive’ family feared magic. As if it was a plague upon humanity. The worse part was, I was a Witch-Hunter. I didn’t study magic, it just came to me. My ‘father’ was the High Shaman of Ward, but he wasn’t merely like the rest of these people, he taught me the ways of a Witch-Hunter.

“Nym, you used the ‘dark arts’ against the tribals of Vulpen. The ‘dark arts’ are what caused many of the problems in Nirn… Nym, you have until dawn to leave Ward forever. If you’re seen here again, it’ll be your head.”

I sighed as I walked out. I walked into my cabin and looked at the blade made from Nordic steel. Engraved in it was, “Champion”. I grabbed the blade and shoved it into my sheathe. I picked up my leather quiver and Nordic-steel and oak bow. I donned my leather armor and opened the door.

The Nords watched me leave. I was of Dunmeri blood; they feared me, because I was different. I couldn’t blame them, but their ignorance would lead them no where. As I walked out the gates, I felt the chilled flakes of snow bite into my face. I was merely history there, nothing more than text written in the book.

Hircine’s Moon was a vicious place. The mountainous terrain made it difficult to travel. Finally I reached the valley and the snow continued into my flesh. I forced my body to continue, fighting the elements was like fighting the gods…

I saw a corpse, it was fresh. A young Nord had come here and an arrow went into his back. But what made it real interesting is, his body was cut to the bone, except for his head. “Mmmmm, dinner,” a voice whispered in my ear. I felt a dagger cut my face and as I tried to fight back I just couldn’t. I was so tired… I fell to my knees, asleep.

When I awoke, I had a collar around my neck and shackles around my wrists that held me against a wall. “You hungry?” the voice asked. “I’ve got some delicious Nord Stew and I’m more than willing to share.”

“You N’wah, you’re a cannibal. That’s so foul! That Nord was barely an adolescent and you’re eating him.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” the man sighed as he walked in. “Open your mouth and eat it.” His hands shook as he moved, almost as if they were twitching.

When I refused, he grabbed my jaw and shoved a spoonful of his crimson-liquid inside my mouth as well as a chunk of flesh. I vomited all over myself as I was trying to cast “Ondusi’s Open Door”.

“Fine, no more for you, that just means more for me. I’ll enjoy it, though.” He grinned eagerly as he shoved a spoonful of the grim stew into his mouth. “Mmmm, you want more?”

“You Fetcher, that’s a person!”

“And now he’s my dinner. Don’t worry, he’ll be keeping me full for a couple weeks, then you get to be my meals. I’ve never tried dark elf.” His hood fell back and I saw his bony face. His yellow teeth, his sunken, pallid eyes, his almost white skin, it made him look even more inhumane.

I muttered under my breath and finally I succeeded in the spell to unlock my shackles. I muttered again and my collar unlocked. However, this time he heard it. “You are trying to run away? But the muscle is so much tougher when you run first, why don’t you hold still?”

He grabbed an axe and swung at me. Luckily, I evaded it by a hair…barely. I looked around for anything I could use as a weapon. I grabbed a knife he had on the table and stabbed at him.

It connected to his left arm, but I don’t think he noticed as the axe came down into my shoulder. “May you forever suffer in the Dead Lands, you S’wit!” I cried out in anguish. I muttered under my breath and flame bit into his face, searing it and enraging him.

“You’re not going to die quickly, I’ll eat you while you live!”

He swung again, but I thrust the knife into his stomach. He looked at it as the scarlet fluid that was his blood formed a puddle at his feet. Life outside of Ward would be much different…

Your descriptions continue to improve, Z. I liked the 'chilled flakes of snow' that bit into Nym’s face as he left the Ward. They seem to be symbolic of the life that he will be forced to lead outside of Hircine’s Moon.

I assume the dagger that the man used to cut Nym’s face had a drain or damage fatigue enchantment on it. The descriptions of the 'crimson liquid' with the 'chunk of flesh' and of the man’s 'bony face, yellow teeth, and sunken, pallid eyes' were also very effective.

Is this part of the story you are trying to get published?

No. The dagger was poisoned with drain fatigue He's a cannibal. Did you notice he had 'shakes'? I tried to recall my viewings of the Road. If I brought this story to my school magazine, the guy in charge would look at me and ask, "So, how long have you been possessed?"

Yay! A new story. Seems like our banished young Dunmer has a touch of familiarity with magic, blade, bow and doesn't care for Nord stew. Looking forward to his journey.

The cannibal was well done! I liked that he wanted to fatten up Nym with Nord stew before eventually eating him. The shakes were a good touch too.

I am not sure how many readers know, but they are one of several symptoms of Kuru, which is a human equivalent to Mad Cow Disease. It is caused by eating infectious proteins (prions) in human brain tissue. The result is a 100% fatal neural disease. Basically holes form in the brain. It can take decades before seeing the first symptoms after the initial exposure, but once they begin death happens within one year. Victims have trouble walking, lack coordination, have muscle spasms, and have trouble swallowing. I first learned about it from a documentary about cannibals in New Guinea, which showed several people suffering from it.

I hope no one finds it too gruesome. This story will be noticable darker than the others. The cannibal was merely in the prologue

GAAAAH!


@ Zalphon - GAAAAAH!

Your writing continues to improve wonderfully ... I may never read this before breakfast again !!! Great Write, Zalphon !!!

Chapter One: A New Life

I looked at the corpse, blood surrounded the lifeless body. That could’ve been my blood; some of it even was mine. I could’ve been that corpse. Back at Ward, I never had these kinds of fights for survival. I looked in the cauldron of stew which bubbled. “Sorry friend, I couldn’t get here fast enough,” I whispered. My curiosity forced me to open a door into another room.

A bed was there and a journal as well,

“My kin remain below the house waiting for the fresh dark elf. Unlike me, they’ve completely gone mad from the hunger. Their ravenous cravings have driven them to start eating each other. Luckily I kept them locked away beneath the house, for if they escaped, then all would be lost.

The Fallen Prince”

I muttered under my breath and flame engulfed the book. As I walked out, it spread throughout the house. This place would merely be the tomb of a family of cannibals. The snow had risen to knee-length and it bit into my flesh, even if the leather was a barrier.

The moon was high in the sky as were the stars. Tonight, the sign of “The Lord” was out, which was the one I was born under. It was rather fitting, because I was quite healthy, but I had a feeling that would change since I had left Ward.

For what felt like hours I walked. My feet were sore from all the walking and my face felt as if it were on fire from the blizzard. It had risen to waist-level. I looked at the snow and almost wept at how nice it would be for sleep, but if I slept, death would soon follow.

A small town was in sight. I sprinted towards it, hoping that I could get a bed. All would be well if I could find a bed. When I reached it, not a soul could be found. I noticed the skeletons next to houses, as if they were trying to protect their home before their death.

“They hated you at Ward,” a voice whispered in my ear. “They wanted to watch you be skinned and burned, forcing to inhale the stench of your own burnt flesh.”

I looked around me for where it was coming from. No one was around. “You were a failure in Ward, you’ll be a failure here,” another voice whispered. “The gods have forsaken you, because all you’ll ever be is a bug waiting to be crushed.”

Still no one could be seen. I gripped my sword and swung it around me, no blood turned the snow red. “You call yourself a Witch-Hunter?” yet another voice whispered. “All you are is some pathetic S’wit with a sword who knows how to light a candle.”

I looked around the village. “A necromancer,” I growled. “He has tainted these lands. His magics have corrupted the spirits of the denizens of this town.”

I saw a large home and I decided to enter. I muttered under my breath and a Dremora appeared to my side. I drew my blade and went down the stairs to the basement. “You have summoned me mortal, what is your reasoning?” the Daedroth asked.

“Silent,” I replied. I saw something strange beneath. Vials filled with various substances on tables. There was also a table with bloody tools on it. On hooks, near the walls corpses were hung with their blood dripping onto the stone-floor.

Out of the shadows appeared the monster that was guilty of these crimes. On a table in the center of the room was a victim who was unable to move. His torso was completely skinned, his right leg was amputated from the knee down and his arms were both amputated from the shoulder.

The necromancer pulled back her hood. A lich was what it was. I backed away slowly, but she barked, “I know you’re here. Come to me.” I climbed the stairs and tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t open.

She walked towards me with a sour look on her face. “A mortal dares enter the lair of Evangeline Mortalitis?”

The Dremora vanished as if it were afraid. The lich’s bony hands escaped the sleeves of her robes. “You’re an abomination,” I spit in her face as she had her face merely inches from mine. “I’ll be glad to watch you die.”

She muttered under her breath and everything went black.

When I awoke, I was still clothed, I couldn’t move. I tried to speak, but I couldn’t. “You called me an abomination, Witch-Hunter. You’ll never speak again for your insults. The reason you still live is you had the fighting spirit to try to intimidate me. Leave slayer of the unnatural.”

The spell that left me bound dissipated and I was able to get up. As I walked out of the manor, I had never felt more alone. The blizzard has stopped, making it easier for me to move through the frozen tundra.

The coldness of the air was intense, even after the snow had stopped. After several more hours of walking in the horizon, I saw a jungle. It was the first time I had ever seen so much flora in one place. I continued walking towards it, eager to finally feel the warmth of the sun.

When I reached the green grass, it felt almost divine. To feel the sun’s light against my face and not the icy winds of New Skyrim. I walked into the jungle, ready to find a new tribe to make my home.
As I walked through the dense foliage, I could tell I was being watched by the vicious creatures and tribals. “Outlander,” a voice called. “Why do you walk through the borderlands? This is the territory of the Sik’atu Tribe.”

I tried to speak, but then I noticed when no sound came out. I pointed to myself and then put my hand over my mouth. Several dark elves with spears, wearing green skins for armor pointed them at me. “Be gone,” the voice hissed. “Or else the Sik’atu will regret their foolishness.”

The speaker walked out of the darkness. A Dunmer with long, silver hair wearing old, gray robes with the hood pulled up glanced at me. The Sik’atu hunters were gone, but I had a feeling I was in danger.

“Hello, young kinsman. My name is Gulas Myneld,” he introduced himself. “Follow me, Young One…”

He started walking and I began following…

A cliffhanger !!! GAAAAAH !!!! Oh, Zalphon !!! How in the world do you think up these stories!!!! Your creativity knows no bounds !!!!

Chapter One: A New Life - Continued

He started walking and I began following…

For hours we stumbled through the jungle. Gulas walked through it with ease, as it was his home, but the dense foliage had me nearly tripping. Suddenly I felt my airway constrict. Gulas turned around when he sensed my danger and muttered under his breath and the vine-constrictor turned to a rope of ash that fell to the ground.

We reached a ruined castle. “Watch your step, if anything goes bad run,” he warned. Guards patrolled, they wore blackened leathers and in their hands held spears.

“You walk the lands of the Ke’Tul,” One of the guards threatened Gulas. “You’re not welcome here, N’wah!”

The ancient dark elf pulled back his hood and the Ke’Tul guards bowed. “M-my apologies, Wizard-Lord, please d-don’t…”

The Dunmeri Wizard-Lord put his hand on the face of the Ke’Tul guard. I watched his eyes emit a burst of blue flame that sizzled with electricity. “You do not speak to a Wizard-Lord like that, you S’wit,” he growled to the corpse. I looked at the charred body; it was as if he had burned the soul out of him.

Gulas taught me something right there. Wizard-Lords may as well have been gods, for the people feared them as if they were. “You there,” he pointed to one of the intimidated guards. “Bring me the High Elder.”

He disappeared into the castle and several minutes appeared with an old dark elf. He had long silver-hair tied in a top-knot and he wore a pair of sack-cloth pants. His body was extremely muscular and lean, especially for an old mer. “You called on me, Myneld,” he stated as he glanced at the corpse. “I see you decided to kill one of the tribesmen.”

“Raynil, when I saved the Ke’Tul from the Kwama-Riders, you swore an oath of debt to me,” the ancient one replied. “I need you to take care of this one while I take care of business with my allies.”

I looked at the High Elder and gulped. He would rip my eyes out if I talked back, I guess this was one of the times it was good to be mute. “Fine, Gulas. We shall protect him, feed him, and train him. However, my debt is repaid.”

He simply nodded in response and started walking into the jungle. The dark elf elder had me follow into the ruined castle. Warriors in blackened leather armor with crude swords and axes trained.

“If you think you’ll live easily in my tribe, then you’re sorely mistaken. Here, we live by honor, I don’t know how you lived before, but here you’ll live by our rules,” he spit in my face. “Until you earn the right to sleep, it’ll be non-existent. Until you earn the right to food, you’ll be served table-scraps and whatever you can catch.”

I nodded as he led me to a tall dark elf in a suit of plate mail. “Well, well, well this is the new initiate, eh?” the Warlord’s raspy voice questioned. “Well then, report to the armory for your gear, you pathetic worm.

I simply nodded again, what a wonderful life this was going to be until Gulas got back…

ROFL !!! He will not be treated with kindness here, that's for sure! You've got me hooked !!!

I like how this is turning out. You've done really good hooking people to this

I feel privileged to be hooking people

Chapter One: A New Life - Continued

The old stone stairs were mossy and I could’ve sworn I saw vines coming out of them, but it was too dark to be certain. A large, green-skinned humanoid looked at me. “So Ebonarm did send a worm like you to the Ke’Tul Tribe,” he growled.

I had a look of confusion, which morphed his glare to a scowl.

“Ebonarm is the God of War. He was worshipped in the Fighters’ Guilds of the Illiac Bay in the Third Era,” the humanoid sighed. “Here’s your armor.” The creature pulled some forest-green armor out and handed it to me. He also handed me a spear.

I walked away after donning the new gear and holding the spear. The Warlord looked at me and spit, “Dunmer, many decades have passed since an outlander has come into the lands of the Ke’Tul,” He stated, his voice was raspy and deep. “You’re dirt beneath the feet of the scribs. Soon you’ll be just dirt.”

He punched me in the face and I felt the red liquid that was my life-force run from my nose. I swung my spear at him, but it was nothing against his armor. This time he kicked me and knocked me to the ground. “Nothing. But. Dirt,” was all he said as he walked off.

One of the warriors walked towards me and stated, “He is brutal and harsh on outlanders, and he adheres to the teachings of the Tribunal as if they’re words of gold. You’ll find your way around here sooner or later, most likely sooner or he’ll be right, you’ll be just dirt.” I gulped, he was right. The moon was beginning to rise and fatigue was beginning to turn me to little more than a fool.

I headed for a tent and the Warlord walked over, “No. This is your first night here; you may sleep with the guar.” He pointed to some strange two-legged beasts with beady eyes.

I sighed as I headed for their pen. I rested my head down and I felt it, fresh dung. Joy…

EW! Guar dung on his face! Great Write Zalphon !!! I am loving this new story !!!!

Was Nym really talking to a bubbling cauldron of stew?

More good description in this first chapter: I especially liked the image of the snow biting into his leg, even as the fire that he started rages behind him.

And we have certainly established one thing for sure! Compared to Nym, the Ke’Tul guard was lucky!

I do have one observation. Judge it as you see fit:

It’s a little hard to sprint when you are waist deep in snow. And you should probably tell us how an abandoned ‘small town’ remains visible during a blizzard. Were torches or bonfires still lit? Could Nym see the murky outlines of squat dwellings?

Keep it up, Z. This is getting really good!

It looks like this character really has some depth to him. You're doing a fine job!

You've certainly come a long way, that much I can say. Your descriptions are getting much more rich, and your dialouge flows better now.

Your writing has always seemed raw to me, yet I always knew that it was the unfettered edge that you bring to the table that would be your jewel. I really love the way you draw the reader into a 'unique world,' and I am glad to see that you are now combining lovely description and structure.

My only suggestion is take some more time with the 'smithing,' as Acadian puts it, and let the story develop before you post it. The first post had a perfect feel, but the recent ones have that small size that comes from wanting to share the story with others. I always like posts that are 1500-2000 words. Please dont take it as a criticism, as your writing is really developing well.

Always remember that unions would say that 'it is the characters who choose the writers, and not the other way around.' Never try to be the one in control of the story, let it come to you.



This line reminds me of your writing. Exciting, engaging and very unsettling!!

Thanks guys, I'm glad you like it. I always love criticism

Chapter One: The Conclave - Continued

“I think you lie, Saranna,” He growled. “For that, you’ll be punished.” I watched tears roll down her face as he muttered under his breath. I watched the veins in her body burst, releasing what looked like a river of blood. It bubbled and ate into the floor. I watched the blood that remained in her carcass eat it away.

“Yes,” he stated. “I turned her blood to acid. Remember something, Nym… In the remnants of the once-great world of Nirn, you must be strong to survive. I’m stronger than a lot of people.”

I looked at the blood that had stopped eating into the floor and the melted flesh that was marinating in it. “The Council awaits us.” We both appeared in a dome-like building and around us sat several robed humanoids.

“This is the one you spoke of, Gulas?” a hoarse voice asked. “Interesting. Why? He is young and naïve.”

“My lord, we all were once young and naïve, but we must remember that he will grow and mature,” Myneld stated. “How can I convince you, Milord?”

“Take your seat and we’ll see if he’s fit.”
The Dunmeri wizard took his seat at the edge of the circular room and a zombie appeared. “Kill or be killed,” the voice ordered. “It will have no pity.”

The zombie scratched at my face, but I body-slammed it. It bit at me, but I shoved it hastily. The adrenaline of battle pumped as I wrestled with the maggot-ridden corpse. I had never felt as alive as my fist crushed into his skull.

When I got off, it was stationary. “Well done. Return to him what is rightfully his.”

A woman’s sigh could be heard as one of the humanoids muttered. My throat burned with intensity that felt as if somebody were scratching it with a knife and I said, “Ow.” Except this time, I heard my voice. My beautiful voice was making sound once more.

“Child, the Council has a task for you. Cyrodiil is little more than a wasteland, in the Arcane University there vault remains untouched,” the hoarse-voiced leader commanded. “Enter the vault and bring to me, the Necromancer’s Amulet.”

“Why?”

“I had a vision several nights ago about a lich claiming it, you must stop him before he succeeds.”

“I understand, take me to Cyrodiil…”

I was outside the ruins of a town by the sea. The sign said, “Anvil.” The town was dead. The buildings were musty and old, the windows were cracked, and the town itself was decaying into the sands of time.

I had never been to Cyrodiil, I guess I would need to search the ghost town for a map.

GAAAAK !!! I should never have tried to read this while eating... GAAAK! ... breakfast ...

I am always amazed how you weave your world-building in and out of Cyrodiil - Awesome Write ... gross, but Awesome, lol.

Malx, I'm not aiming to make it gross. I kind of inspired to use the blood-to-acid spell in a few ways. In Mannimarco, the King of Worms, it says his blood was acid. So tadah! We have the feared blood-to-acid spell

Chapter One: Conclave - Continued

The cold oceanic air touched my skin gently and I could see my breath. I walked into the city which had the remnants of stone-walls and a castle.

The sun was beginning to set. Out of the seemingly dead city came a soldier in chain-mail. His armor was older than me by many years, because it some sort of tabard on it. “Leave this place... or die,” he warned. “Your life is forfeit if you stay.”

He approached closer and I saw that his bony face was really just a skull. “Anvil is a necropolis,” the soldier stated. “It is our home; we defended it against the invaders during the Shattering hundreds of years ago. You shall not take it.”

“Your entire city is—,” I managed to say.

“Dead, yes,” he interrupted. “This is our home. Continue asking questions and your life will end just as ours did, except you’ll stay dead.”

“I seek the Necromancer’s Amulet, rumor has led me to believe it is in the Arcane University, I need a map,” I responded. “Give it to me and I’ll be gone.”

The skeleton looked at me in the eye; at least I think he did. “We shall retrieve the amulet, but in return we have a request.”

“What?”

The skeleton turned around and looked off into the sky that was ebon and littered with bright, white lights and a moon. “You must stop it. For over a century, we have lived. The night terrors haven’t died,” he stated as he rubbed his chain-mail covered hand across his skeletal face. “You must help us reach death.”

“Wait, you want me to kill you and your friends?”

“Castle Anvil holds secrets from us. For decades we have tried to enter, but the dead can’t enter,” He sighed. “The Wizards will have it by the dawn.”

“Seal our fate and the amulet will be yours.”

I nodded and started walking towards the ruined castle. The skeletal inhabitants stared at me. When I got near a bridge to it, a glove-covered hand grasped my mouth and pulled me into an alley. “Listen good, I don’t care what he told you,” my captor whispered. “You’d best stay far away from Castle Anvil, cowards like him may not enjoy the gift, but we do.”

He let me go and hissed, “Meet me here, tomorrow at midnight and I’ll have your amulet.”

I nodded and muttered under my breath to cast a spell of chameleon. With the night on my side, I managed to cross the bridge without him knowing. I opened the door and walked in. It hit me…hard. The stench of death and decay invaded my nostrils.

Blood stained the stone-tile floors of Castle Anvil. Lifeless skeletons loitered on the ground. I saw something written in blood on the wall. I looked at it, “Death is eternal.” Something was strange about it. I examined it closely, it was fresh…

Taking a familiar place like Anvil as a stage to this story is AWESOME !!! I know the castle, the secret passageways - and can easily picture from the great descriptions - the wreckage of it in its current state! Really great write, and I am especially tickled about your making it Wizards - because Anvil has history with them.

Wizards standing on the hill and castle ramparts brought an end to Captain Dugal, the Red Sabres, the Black Flag by sealing them inside that hill that Castle Anvil sits on - the island across from it used to be part of the land the castle sits on - that battle was done in the name of Commodore Fasil Umbranox (thereby bringing the curse on the heads of all Umbranox - a questline Bethesda may have dropped)

Also, when you first enter that area around Castle Anvil, you are attacked in a random encounter with a wizard around the area of the castle, and whereever he dies he drops a bag of loot with an enchanted ring in it.

Awesome Write, Zalphon !!!!! Very Intriguing !!!

I'm glad you liked it.

Anvil, destroyed and filled with undead. Well, there goes property values along the Gold Coast.

This is quite clever!

I loved that line too, caught a laugh from me, lol.

I try to bring a little light humor in. But the main ambience I am aiming for is to show that the world is torn apart from this Cataclysmic event and the people have changed. I think I may tie in the War of Necromancy in the lore of the Zalphon-Verse with changes of course. Maybe a few references

Question? Is that generally allowed to tie RPs in with lore of fanfics?

If there are rules, I don't know about them.

I wove a little of my own theme into my story - but still try and keep the Lore intact, sometimes running a subplot alongside it so people can look at the Lore and determine timelines, etc.

(Like Dagoth-Malan in my story). He was made by Bethesda to have been turned into an Ascended Sleeper by Dagoth-Ur - that is game Lore. But Bethesda dropped him before Morrowind came out, I just picked him back up and made a history for him that explained why it was commonly thought he was an ascended sleeper - and what he became after escaping Red Mountain.

Also, Azzan came from Sutch in the original plans for the game - but they dropped the town of Sutch before making Oblivion. They kept Azzan, moving him to Anvil. Some of his dialogue still showed him from Sutch before the first patch of Oblivion - I made him from Sutch in my story, which meant saying the town of Sutch was obliterated in an attack. The history of that will come out when Azzan's character is developed later.

But our own role-play and imagination has to come into the fiction, I think. Otherwise, it would just be a game journal.

Chapter Three: Cloak and Dagger

My knees gave out and everything went black…

I awoke in a suit of black-leather armor. At my belt were a short-sword and a dagger. And a black cloak with a hood rested on my back. “Nym,” I heard a woman’s voice state. “I thought you’d never wake up.”

“Where am I and who are you?” I asked as I sat up. A young Breton woman stood in front of me. Her raven-like hair was cut at her shoulder-blades and she wore a suit of armor similar to my own.

“You know who I am, Nym,” she sighed. “It’s me, Belle.”

“What in Oblivion happened?” I asked as I rustled my hand through my ebon hair. “Last I remember, I was in Castle Anvil.”

“You got into Castle Anvil?” Belle questioned with a grin. “You got into Castle Anvil? Did you plunge your dagger into the Lord’s wicked heart?”

“No, I didn’t find anyone; I just fell into a dark sleep.”

“By the gods, you were so close to freeing the people from his oppression and you failed, Nym. You were so close and you failed,” she sighed. “Look outside; people are starving to death, because of his greed. We’re the last stand, by that I mean the Order of Shadows.”

“The Order of Shadows?”

“You really must’ve been in a deep sleep. We’re thieves, nightblades, bards, and others dedicated to freeing Anvil from our ‘ruler’.”

I looked out at the city. I watched a child grab bread from a merchant and sprint off with it. Then I watched the guards cut him down. The moonlit streets of Anvil were home to the tyrannical guards and the oppressed citizens.

“Got a plan?” I asked.

“Always,” she grinned as she pulled out a map and plenty of papers.

You are weaving a thick plot here, with the corruption of Anvil as a basis - this has to be the most intriguing beginning to any of your stories to date, I am totally rapt in trying to figure out what you have planned next !!! Great Write !!!

Well readers, I think I'm going to discontinue this story, and consider it non-canon in the Zalphon-Verse, as well as the previous story...

GAAAAH !!!

I don't like the path it has taken

Ok. Well, I'm sure it will somehow help you and make your next one even better! Speaking of next one, we look forward to it!

GAAAAAH !!!!