MercenaryBlade

The Silent Village Gradually, the companions stepped forward from the shadows. Midori, Decius, and Takeshi kept steady hands on their swords, while Satsu and Narita held their naginata and bow with casual readiness. The old man by the fire didn’t flinch as he regarded them, his eyes glinting with quiet amusement. “You’re a curious group,” the old man said, his voice calm but edged with knowing. Takeshi stepped closer. “Are you a yokai?” The question hung in the air. Many yokai faltered when confronted outright, but some were clever enough to lie without hesitation. The old man only chuckled, low and raspy. “I am no yokai, merely an old traveler resting by the fire,” he said. “You’re welcome to join me; provided you’re not here to murder me.” “We’re not bandits,” Takeshi replied evenly. “Then please,” the man gestured to the fire, “sit. It’s a dark night to face alone.” Reluctantly, the group lowered their weapons and sat, though none relaxed completely. Their eyes stayed fixed

It was still dark when Red’s alarm went off. The jackal-like alien’s long, velvety ear twitched at the sound as she raised her head from the soft and comforting pillow, her fur matted to her face. Baring her teeth she quickly slammed a fist down on her alarm. It wheezed out one last beep before Red threw the covers back and got to her feet, still in the one nightgown she owned. Grumbling, she stretched and yawned before plodding her way to the bathroom for a shower. After she was clean and dry she dressed in her favored attire: Shorts, a tanktop, boots, a khaki safari style coat with the sleeves rolled up. Through the door to her kitchen she poured and drained a mug of a vile caffeinated brew and scarfed down some toast, such was her breakfast these days. Once not so long ago, but what felt like a long time ago she would have taken her time with breakfast and listened to the Ortalan songbirds as she ate at her leisure. Those days were long gone. Now she had to be grateful for what

Ben held the model ship close to his chest as he made his way through his grandfather’s home. To him it was magical, full of things he recognized the importance of mixed in with things that seemed outlandish and exotic: Paintings of old starships, alien masks on the walls, trinkets from worlds lightyears away... It was, in actuality, a modestly sized home, but the retired merchant spaceman had used the space well. Ben made his way to the bedroom his grandfather slept in. He knew the old man was awake from the light under and around the door. A polite knock and he entered.  His grandfather looked up from the aged leather tome he was studying, always preferring physical print to the headache-inducing electronic screens. His hair was white and fleeing, his mustache well-groomed, and he was dressed in his favorite maroon silk robe, made from the threads of a Velusian spider.   “Can’t sleep, shipmate?” the old man asked. The young boy shook his blonde hair. Thunder rumbled outside, but

Ben held the model ship close to his chest as he made his way through his grandfather’s home. To him it was magical, full of things he recognized the importance of mixed in with things that seemed outlandish and exotic: Paintings of old starships, alien masks on the walls, trinkets from worlds lightyears away... It was, in actuality, a modestly sized home, but the retired merchant spaceman had used the space well. Ben made his way to the bedroom his grandfather slept in. He knew the old man was awake from the light under and around the door. A polite knock and he entered.  His grandfather looked up from the aged leather tome he was studying, always preferring physical print to the headache-inducing electronic screens. His hair was white and fleeing, his mustache well-groomed, and he was dressed in his favorite maroon silk robe, made from the threads of a Velusian spider.   “Can’t sleep, shipmate?” the old man asked. The young boy shook his blonde hair. Thunder rumbled outside, but

The two dressed in black contrasted with the freshly fallen snow that had covered the ground and trees in a carpet of wet powdery residue. The two dark clad figures stayed as still as the trees and stumps that surrounded them. One had long dark hair and tanned skin, a dark blue scarf covering his face. The second wore long dark robes with a hood over his head, a pale face and blonde hair could be seen beneath the hood.  The dark youth crouched in the snow as the fair haired one merely stood pulling his robes closer, grateful for once that he lived in a priory. The robes made excellent winter gear. “Galloglas.” the fair youth stated. “Quiet Aeselfrith.” Galloglas replied.  “But you haven’t moved in… well for a long time.” “I am assessing the situation.” Galloglas replied curtly. “Are you sure you’re not frozen in place? There’s snow on your shoulders.”  Galloglas growled in response. Not for the first time Aeselfrith thought his friend was actually an overgrown Tomcat in human

Sphinx looked at the terrified shopkeep. “We can end this once and for all: No more living in fear.” Otis shook his head. “You make it sound so simple. You think we haven’t tried before?” “Have you tried destroying the radio tower? Because I suspect that’s how they’re controlled.” Otis paused as if his mind was latching onto Sphinx’s statement. “N-no. But I want no part of it: No part! I have a family.” He started to move away. “I have to do what’s best for us.” Maddie scowled. “Damnit Otis! Do you want to keep living in the threat of this deranged scientist?” “At least we’re living!” he shouted as he bolted for it. Tex started to go after him but Sphinx stopped him. “Let him go, he’s just scared. Let’s get out of here and...” There was a crashing noise as Maddie used her newly pilfered hatchet to smash open part of the counter. “Is that necessary?” Webster grumbled. “Yup,” Maddie replied as she placed a few sticks of dynamite on the counter. “It’s where he keeps the

Honoria shouted something as she covered her ears. In the din of battle within the cave, her words were lost - even if the others hadn’t covered their ears. Farah stole a quick glance to her teammates, noting they had caught on and put their paws over their ears as they ducked past combatants.  Farah put the horn to her lips, inhaled, and blew.  The sound reverberated through the cave. She watched as the majority of The Hornets fell unconscious upon the cave, but the Painted Dogs stood firm.  “What?” Farah asked after the sound had died down.  “Did you think we wouldn’t take precautions after the first time, weasel?” It was one of the Painted Dogs that spoke: He was carrying a warclub and had piercings of bone thrust through his ears and nose with bangles adorning his arms.   “Ferret!” Farah said, holding the shofar defensively. “And watch it with that club, buddy.” In the distance there was a sound much like the horn, an echo? No, the echo should have long faded by now.

Epilogue The trip back down the mountain was far less eventful than the trip up, but it felt far longer. The cursed blade continued to whisper its false promises to all but Decius. The denizens of the mountain seemed to avoid the travelers, perhaps they could sense the curse and wanted nothing to do with it. Even Tora seemed less hospitable than last time, despite his expressed happiness that they had not died. Decius carried the sword wrapped in fabrics. To him it seemed to weigh more than it should have, but he was the best choice to carry the blade. At long last they returned to the villa of Tanaka. “Home,” Narita sighed at the sight. Decius smiled at her, “You’ve completed a quest. You’re definitely not a tenderfoot now after everything we went through.” She looked back at him. “Thank you. But I think I’ve had quite enough with adventuring. It’s not what I thought it would be at all.” Takeshi grunted, “Perhaps that is for the best. It’s not glamorous.” Lord Tanaka was

“Have we met before, sir?” Marsha asked the man sitting at the far side of the counter. Marsha was tending the counter of the general store, and felt a twinge of recognition when she looked at him. He was different to say the least. Marsha had the distinct impression that he was a sailor: Beneath his tricorn, his brown hair was tied back in a manner popular with seafarers, his skin tanned and weathered. He seemed to be still quite young but his blue eyes held an aged weariness. He wore a greatcoat, which would open on occasion, and Marsha’s eyes could see the butts of pistols thrust into his belt, the scabbard of a saber protruding from under his coat like a tail.  The stranger smiled. “Why? Do I seem familiar to you?”  Marsha racked her brain for where she could have seen him before, but the more she thought, the more likely it seemed to be a mistaken memory. The only thing that matched was the intense impression she had of an unknown man with blue eyes who had saved her life as

Onna crouched on the tree branch as she surveyed the jungle floor below her, clad in a chest and loin cloth made from antelope hyde, her trusty spear clutched in hand. The hornbill Dingani was perched beside her. There had been no reports of other humans aside from hunters from her allies in the Armhagga tribe. The jungle girl ran a hand through her matted leaf specked platinum blonde hair, as Dingani relayed more of what he had seen on his flights. “Panther,” The Hornbill remarked. Onna grimaced, “Adofo,” Adofo her estranged panther ‘brother’ she felt the claw scars on her back burn at the memories of his claws, and the sting of guilt and shame hit her anew. “It’s your fault!” Adofo’s voice rang in her ears from the memory. Bad memories. For the past few nights Onna had been remembering moments she wished she’d forget. The death of her mother, her father’s last moments trying to protect her from the thing in the shadows. The thing in the shadows speaking with his voice trying

Eight red eyes stared down the two dracoz, the eyes burning with a red, hellish light. The great terrible mandibles parted and a hiss - like quenching metal - roared from the great spider. Venom dripped to the floor as Creeta stalked towards its victims. “Keep back Ylla!” Draknor ordered. Creeta drew closer. Draknor bellowed a challenge and moved forward. The great spider reared up and let out a shrill shriek. Draknor struck, watched and skirted to the side as the massive spider came down to where he had once been, gouging a deep gash in the rock. Draknor slashed with his sword scoring a cut across one of the forelegs of the great beast. Creeta let out a shrill cry and turned, Draknor attempting to get under the beast but found himself knocked to the side as the mass of the spider slammed into him. Creeta skittered towards Draknor as he hit the hard stone floor, his sword falling from his grasp with a clatter. Creeta’s fangs raised, she hissed again - filling the whole cavern

The meerkat girl - dressed in shorts, a vest, and a short-sleeved shirt - wiped her forehead as she stalked through the jungle. Amber loved the vest: It had enough pockets for all her various objects - notepads, writing utensils, recorders, and cameras - for an article she was writing about the small tropical island nation of Safilr: a heavily sanctioned country quite hostile to journalists. The island was undergoing a historic event. For the first time in decades, an actual election was taking place. For years, the thylacine President - General Theolin - had ruled with an iron fist and all manner of political rivals had been met with ‘accidents’ or locked up never to be seen again. Finally, though, someone was able to challenge the old marsupial and live: An old, charming, and wealthy dingo - Dr. Andrew “the Professor” Landis, PhD. But Amber wasn’t just there to cover an election: she was following a lead. According to an old contact of Amber’s, a large company had been using

The lift stopped and they found themselves in a cavernous expanse. All attempts at making the world seem natural had ceased as they faced rows upon rows of machinery. “Where to, now?” Sphinx asked. “This way,” Zeelus pointed. “If I am reading the writing correct, this is a control station. We can hopefully give this sphere the shutdown command. Just think of what we can learn!” Zeelus was giddy as a schoolboy - Kairi didn’t have to be empathic to pick that up. Then she picked something else up: anger... and hatred. “Down,” she cried. Everyone complied as raygun blasts flew overhead. “StarPatrol! You can’t stop me this time!” The voice was familiar. “Lurtz!” Kairi shouted. “How the bloody hell did he get in here?” Trevor grumbled. “Probably more than one entrance,” Zeelus postulated as he cowered. Figures were moving towards them through the gloom. Sphinx growled. “Looks like he brought more androids. Kairi, take Zeelus and get to those controls.” “We’re on it! Let’s go

The dracoz made an intimidating figure against the setting sun: He had black scales with a bit of gray down the throat, two large horns jutting from the top of his draconic head, and a long tail ending in a spade point trailing behind him. His yellow eyes gleamed in the dusk light. His kilt rustled in the wind of the plains as the sun glinted off bits of armor adorning his torso. His greatsword - complete with a gem upon the pommel - swung at his side. His name was Draknor, and for many a long year he had wandered the lands and seas in search of a new purpose and a new home for what remained of his people. Once rulers of the world, the dracoz - and their homeland - had fallen into decline. Draknor survived through skill at arms: It kept his belly fed in more ways than one as he kept up the search. It was also why he found himself arriving at the speck of a village on the plains. He knew they were having some monster problems and had offered a reward, but more often than not he was

I cocked my head, “What are you going on about? I think you need some R&R.” The otter grinned in triumph, “You’re survivors from the original experiment. Outstanding! The lab boys will love you two!” He started to go for the intercom and Leland and I sprung for him. I don’t know which of us delivered the knockout blow, but the otter was down on the floor quick - papers from his desk scattered beside him. Leland sighed and then chuckled. “Heh, you know. I always wanted to deck an officer.” We both stood up as two large canines threw the door open: Marines, by the look of their fatigues. “What are you gawking at?” I barked. “Get a medic in here! The admiral is having some sort of fit! Move it!” The authoritative tone and uniform were enough to push past their suspicions. “Yes sir!” they snapped as one left to get a medic. I pointed to the second one. “You stay with the admiral.” I pulled Leland along, when we were out of earshot I sighed. “That was close.” Leland smiled

Prompt: Set your story over the course of a few minutes; no flashbacks, no flashforwards. “May the ravens caw your name at twilight,” a man in regal clothes and crown said to the rather tall personage in a deer skull - mask? Face? As the regal man said this, the butterfly wings on his back fluttered. Yvette blinked. She had the feeling that she was having a wonderful time at the party. It was a nice spring day and everyone there - except deer skull - was dressed in finery, all of their wings gently fluttering in the breeze. Yvette laughed, trying to blend in as she was approached by deer skull. “Are you having a good time, young one?” it whispered. “Oh, delightful,” Yvette responded. Slowly though, something in the back of her mind was screaming for her attention. “Have you tried the delights?” The deer skull asked. The person was in a long brown robe and was wearing gloves over its hands. It gestured towards a long oak table glittering with food. “Oh, not yet.” A scream from

So lately I’ve been getting a lot of confusion from my readers on certain characters with the same surname. That surname of course being ‘Sphinx’ well I feel I should address this and make sure there are no confusions. So here’s your handy guide to the various Sphinx’s. Captain James Sphinx: This is the main Sphinx I’ll be using, he’s the high-flying ace of the 1930s. Though his exploits are legendary many are shocked by how boyish he looks. Tall and slim, with medium length brown hair he’s not exactly what one expects a pulp hero to look like, and that’s part of the fun. Sphinx lives in the same universe as Onna the jungle girl. It’s a world much like our own but with the occasional more fantastic thing, or slight deviation in history, expect dieselpunk inventions to crop up on occassion. Sphinx will have descendants that show up in other eras but they haven’t made official appearances… yet. If he looks like any established fictional character, the closest I could think of would be