《Write Way Magazine》 Table of Contents Welcome to Write Way Magazine. Our releases are listed in the note up top, please click on the links to be directed to the issue you wish to read. Alternatively, you could flip through the pages the old fashioned way. Write Way Magazine is brought to you by Writers To The End - We finish our stories!Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Team: Editor WhoCares Contributors Jahnes HauntedJack Oinos Outofthis Senizal Fi Chrora Tapeking Scribble - Link To Forums Chief Reporter EmilyEvelen The Newsroom (Frame) A cacophony of voices greeted me as I entered the office. The printer isnt working boss, complained generic office worker A. Get GenRincewind to fix it, hes the tech guy, isnt he? I said. Genie glared at me from afar. Mr. Dragon is on the phone, sir. Something about jelly? said the generic secretary. Tell him thats sensitive info. Ill send him the details through securer means. The generic secretary nodded. Sir, which photos do you want for this weeks edition? asked Kanundra, our photographer. That one, I said, pointing to a picture of the busy roads outside. Here you go, said a tall, long haired person. Thanks, Senizal, I said, accepting the coffee from the effeminate man. I took a sip and nodded in satisfaction. Someone knocked into me, making me spill the coffee. Jacky! You know Id complain, but youre the one who has to clean it, I said, wiping myself off with a hanky.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Right, sowwy, said HauntedJack as he mopped the floor with a dry mop, spreading the coffee. We need more jokes! roared Exterminatus from the comedy department. Make a thinly veiled dick joke! I replied loudly. Then can I use the stupid horse puns I stayed up all night to come up with? he asked. Or was it all for neight? I hit him with a brick and moved on. The cake will be ready by lunchtime sir, said Lygast, our pastry chef. Good, its a historic achievement. Worthy of celebration, I said. Ill bake some cookies too. Everyone stopped. What? I asked, furrowing my brows. Nothing! said everyone as they resumed their work. Hours passed. The phone rang countless times. I signed papers, sometimes with both hands but never with both feet. Frantically, our team did its best to gather the latest news from the interwebs, scouring reddit, royalroadl, topwebfiction, and even (reluctantly, mind you) Wattpad. Through our cumulative efforts we amassed a treasure-trove of insight about the best indie serials the english speaking internet has to offer, insights that we would immediately discard in favor of amateurish opinions about whatever afflictions had befallen the community at the moment. Our articles were simple but poignant. An artistic response to the artistic expression of others, one that was cognizant of its readers expectations and the communitys potential. It wasnt a space for self-promotion or spiteful admonitions of rivals, but a garden in which we grew and nurtured the unspoken sentiments of the artform itself. Our topics can be banal; the shortcomings of harems and the difference between Wuxia and Xianxia, or avant-garde - the effects of post-modernism and the rejection of sophisticated writing techniques and sentence structures, like in this sentence. Our doors are open, our printing presses hot, and with this final sentence, our magazine is ready for your perusement. Newspage 13-19 Feb 2017 Krill: Welcome to weekly digital newsreel. I am your host, Krill. Cookie: And Im Cookie! Krill: I am, in fact, a sentient krill who learned how to communicate through words, please do not eat me. Cookie: And I am a cookie. Please eat me. Krill: Right, for those of us just joining the program, this is where we give a brief overview of the past week, please stay tuned for todays headlines. Cookie: Eat me! Krill: First, the biggest news of the week. Write Way Magazines first edition came out! This is a momentous occasion for writing, magazines, and magazines about writing! More specifically, web fiction is expected to benefit immensely! Cookie: Is the magazine tasty? Krill: Yes, it is. Cookie: Yay! Krill: And thats all we have this week! Well finish this segment off, like always, with a list of popular stories from Royalroadl, topwebfiction.com, and novelupdates.com. Thats all from us here at The Newspage, next up is Emily''s Interviews. Im Krill. Cookie: And Im cookie!A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Krill: See you next week. Royalroadl Top Weekly TopWebFiction Top Weekly Novelupdates Top Weekly Emilys Interviews - Vocaloid (RRl supermod) Interview with Vocaloid, a supermod and the supervisor of WriTE Interviewer: Mocha, Krill wants me to interview you. Vocaloid: Hmm? Okay. Write up some questions or something. Interviewer: Okay. What inspired you to write Just a Rock? Vocaloid: Why that? Just A Rock is dropped. Well, it did sorta inspire a wave of parody and troll fics To be honest, at the time, I hadn''t written anything for awhile, and I was frustrated with college stuff. I decided to amuse myself with a short troll fiction. I was like, "Let''s find something extremely ordinary... and then state it as such and deny anything special about it to bait people in." The chapter was short because that''s all it needed. I just needed to state that the rock was ordinary. I added in a bit of a setting to make it seem somewhat like an actual story with [some] substance in it. The response I got was above and beyond what I expected. I expected people to get annoyed, [but I] underestimated the amount of trolls and people who liked quirky things like that. Interviewer: Why did you drop it? Vocaloid: Well, the big reaction to it is also probably the reason for its downfall. Originally, it was good because I didn''t care about the reaction. I wanted to annoy the reader. And then people started commenting about how the rock was somehow special, and I got caught up in that. I made the rock special in the later chapters, and that ruined it. I kept rethinking stuff and rewriting stuff to the point that 250-500 word chapters were taking hours upon hours to write, and I stopped enjoying the process of writing them. Interviewer: Have you ever abused your mod powers on the WriTE Discord Server in anyway, even say changing the nickname of a poor little chess player in a discord chat? Vocaloid: No. *The interviewers name was changed after the question was answered.* Interviewer: Why did you become a mod? You seem more focused on writing and being a general troll, so why the jump to become an official mod? Vocaloid: Well, at the time, I wasn''t very focused on writing. I had just dropped my first fiction after realizing that my writing was shit, so I decided to scour the forums for writing advice. Meanwhile, I started helping others out with their questions and overall being active on the forums. I was even reporting rule-breaking posts and such. Interviewer: I heard the rrl forums is a terrible place for writing advice, though? Vocaloid: Not in its early days. There was all sorts of writing guides being posted around. As for why I became a mod, I felt like I was already doing the job of a mod, so I filed a support ticket asking how to become a mod. Kanadaj responded to me telling me to just ask, and they''ll approve if I''m suitable. I felt like he was indirectly telling me, "ask and ye shall receive," so I asked and became a mod. I was [then] told that I was already in consideration for being recruited as a mod. Interviewer: What was the stupidest thing you''ve had to ban or report? Or, alternatively, the funniest? Vocaloid: Well, there was that one time a user [had] swearing in his signature, so I replaced all the swearing with and told the user about it. The response surprised me: the user actually liked how the signature looked with the and decided to keep it that way instead of changing it to something else. Interviewer: Right. You said you realized that your writing was shit. Do you feel like your writing has improved? Vocaloid: I most definitely have improved. I''m in the process of reading through and editing one of my old stories. I know for sure that my old writing left something to be desired. Weird dialogue choices, bad character development, awkward wording, infodumps, etc. All stuff that I still do, but not as much as before. Interviewer: How do you find the experience of being the supervisor of a group? Vocaloid: It''s interesting. Sometimes I feel like a normal member and other times I feel like I''m leading the group. At the same time, I feel somewhat isolated, especially when I''m away for a day or two. It sorta depends on how active I am in the group since when I''m around a lot I do try to push things into motion.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. I''m most active in WriTE out of the three groups I supervise; in the other two groups I feel like I''m just filling in the supervisor position. I''m sorta leaving Draft to its own devices to see how it develops, and too much direct involvement in the Order has lead to some negative things. Interviewer: Have you ever thought of pushing the role of WriTE supervisor on J0nn0, considering that he is a member and a mod too? Vocaloid: Nope, because j0nn0 isn''t active enough in WriTE. Besides, if I''m active in WriTE, why would I push the position onto others? Interviewer: On the subject of groups, do you think that groups on RRL help or divide the community as a whole? Vocaloid: I believe it has helped the community more than [it has] hurt it. It may have made the forum less active, but the forum is good for information, not so much for discussion. People can respond to another person and never get a response. Chats separate from the main chat were going to happen sooner or later. As for splitting the community into factions, it gives rise to the potential of competitions between the groups. Not that [the groups are] segregated, far from it. People from other groups constantly visit. The rule that you can''t be in more than one group has prevented the groups from sorta merging into some hodgepodge mess, but people still come and go in different chats. Interviewer: Did you choose WriTE to supervise, or were you assigned it? Vocaloid: I chose WriTE. Interviewer: Are there any [mod] responsibilities? Also, if you left RRL for some reason for a month, would you still be a supermod? Vocaloid: There are responsibilities for supermods. As for leaving for a month, I''d probably still be a supermod. Depends on why I left. Interviewer: What if you just left without warning? Do you have to check up with the admins every once in a while? Vocaloid: Im not totally sure, to be honest. Weve had a supermod who is very tardy, and hes still a supermod. He happens to just show up when needed. Hes had a number of computer troubles so we dont blame his tardiness. Supermods were sorta selected during a time where some controversial things were happening, and the most trustworthy and active mods were chosen. Ironically, I went inactive for a full week before I was made a supermod. Its hard for supermods to be removed even if were inactive. If I went inactive for a month, I believe Id be kept, even if there was no warning. Interviewer: Well, on that note. There was a discussion with Kana yesterday about how RRL is understaffed. Due to how much the site is growing, do you think there will be a need for more mods, or that this current amount is good enough? Vocaloid: We are slightly understaffed. The reports system has allowed us to work out things with less people. However, the issue with our understaffing is that it deals with more important areas like fiction submissions and programming. Places where we need trustworthy people and/or people we have to pay. So its a bit of a tough issue to solve as we need more supermods, not normal mods. We used to be able to pick people out from forum activity, but the forums just arent that active anymore. Were now starting to look at groups a little bit, which might be a step in the right direction. However, the suggestion to make group leaders mods will most likely be rejected. Admins and group leaders have both expressed that they do not like that plan. There are more and more submissions every day, and only a few people taking care of submissions, leading to longer wait times. Nowhere near other sites with manual approval, [which can] take up to weeks, but our policy originally said twenty-four hours or less, and we try to keep to that. Interviewer: What responsibilities do you have regarding WriTE? Vocaloid: Responsibilities? Don''t have any. I sorta do whatever. The supervisor role was created on a whim, and at its core it''s supposed to be helping with the formation of the group, and overseeing it so it doesn''t go in the wrong direction. I sorta just help out when needed, and sometimes I barge in and do whatever I want like creating the Discord channel for tabletop RPGs, and the group competition. Interviewer: Can you clarify what you mean by wrong direction? Vocaloid: Preventing things from devolving into disorder, making sure there''s mods and group leaders overseeing stuff, making sure the group is actually active and not a dead group, and well, making sure the group doesn''t stray too far from its original goals. We make them change their description if they do. Interviewer: You mentioned that you were a troll before you were a mod? Could you describe your trolling career? Vocaloid: I would change my name a lot. I encouraged other users to break rules. I broke rules myself. I would often post videos in chat given some context, and theyd sometimes be nsfw. I''d often chat with users about their story, or how they were shamelessly putting the name of their story in their chat username (despite doing the exact same thing.) I also would sidetrack conversations a lot; I liked pushing things in weird directions. It would sometimes result in mods stepping in and telling people to stop. I also teased the moderators a lot. There was one mod at the time named ImitationKatana who I often dubbed FakeSword or Plastic. He would often RP about kicking users and wed question how a sword could kick things. I got banned maybe 3-4 times, mainly for minor things. I wasnt very malicious, more of an annoyance. Though, I was a bit of an arse at times, I admit. I was also one of the roleplayers. Interviewer: After all that, how did you manage to become a mod? I know we went through it, but Vocaloid: You see, they didn''t take into account my chat history. I also asked to just be a forum mod. I told them expressly that I didn''t want to be a chat mod and got banned a few times there, and the admins were fine with that. They made me a chat mod anyways. I did misbehave once or twice and actually got demoted for a short period of time from my chat antics after becoming a mod. Interviewer: Do you still troll occasionally, or roleplay? Vocaloid: As for trolling and roleplaying, I avoid roleplaying. I was more of an "action" roleplayer and was never too fond of the "hugging" roleplaying. I was the type to type "stab User01" as a greeting. Not really anyone to roleplay with like that since most of the roleplayers are doing the hugging stuff. I definitely still troll people. Interviewer: Okay, last question before we wrap this up: how did you get your various nicknames? Vocaloid: Well, it started with my username, Vocaloid. I was kinda into Vocaloid at the time, and I typed it into the username field while registering without expecting to actually get the name. I thought I''d need to try 3-4 times to get a name. Later on, I got the nickname Cannibaloid. I got that one from writing a fiction with a cannibal protagonist. I think Curvinho gave me the nickname. He was there during the time I was dubbed as such in chat. Back then, the original chat that RRL used, "ChatWING, made it very easy to change usernames; like within 5 seconds, you could change your name 5 times. I got all sorts of different "oid" nicknames from various users. There was also one user who dubbed me as "Lloyd" due to that Rainte did so. Rainte the scrublord. It just became a norm for me to get nicknames and for me to change my name to the nicknames I received. Interviewer: As the name that we WriTErs see the most, how did you come by Mocha? Vocaloid: Krill gave me that nickname. And I like mocha coffee. I don''t remember the circumstances too much. Interviewer: Alright, thank you for your time. Do you have any comments or subjects that we didnt touch upon? Vocaloid: Pingas. Bonus - Interview with WhoCares, editor of this magazine Interviewer: Earlier, we interviewed the supermod and supervisor of WriTE - Vocaloid. He mentioned that you were the one to nickname him Mocha. Can you tell us why? WhoCares: Vocaloid became Voca, which became Mocha on a whim. And because I like drinking mocha. I think I might have been drinking some at the time? Interviewer: Thank you for your input. How To Write A Successful Story On RRl by Oinos How to Write a Successful Story on RRL You decided to write a webnovel and want to be successful? This is the guide you''ve been looking for! There are two ways to write a story that will be successful on RRL: 1. Write a splendid novel with excellent grammar and style, realistic characters and an original, interesting story. 2. Write following the trend of the moment. While the first point is self-explanatory, this guide will focus on the second way to write a successful webnovel so read carefully. 1 What to avoid: The first thing that you have to know is which things to avoid in your fiction, so that your novel wont be submerged by 0.5 star ratings. Those things are: 1. A female lead. 2. The genderbender tag. 3. Yuri/yaoi. While we all know that people hating on these things are being sexist, homophobic and, in the case of yuri, committing a crime against humanity, RoyalRoadl is full of those kinds of people, so if your fiction has any one of those three characteristics you will never see it be in the front page of the site. You also dont want to scare people off with reality, so no cheating, especially on the MC or you will have a crowd with torches and pitchforks shouting NTR at your door and you cant have rape or any other traumatizing event affecting your main characters in any way. You think that your characters risk being plain like this? Dont worry, your fiction will still be a great success as long as it contains the following: 2 What your fiction must have: This part is the part on which you have to focus the most on, because it will be what will make your novel a great success in the face of all those people who struggle to get even one follower. Dont worry though, its really easy, you just have to make sure your fiction contains: 1. A lead character who obviously has to be: a. Overpowered. b. Male. c. Between 14 and 20 years old. d. A virgin wimp who wouldnt know how to talk with a girl, even if he got a guidebook, at the start of the novel. e. An oblivious playboy as soon as you get 2 chapters into the story f. Super intelligent in the eyes of other characters even though in a real-life situation he would be considered as smart as a broken chair 2. As an alternative you can have a non-human lead, in this case make sure he still behaves like a teenager with all the characteristics listed above, independent of the fact that he is actually a zombie/slime/god/ballpoint pen. 3. A harem, everyone loves harems apparently, make your MC loved by all the girls who travel with him, even those who hated him when he first met them. 4. A fantasy LitRPG world, to achieve that you can choose between: Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.a. Virtual reality b. Summoned hero c. Reincarnation/transportation Any of them are good as they are only excuses to slam a status screen in the middle of your chapters and allowing you to ride the wave of popularity of the genre. It doesnt even matter if you choose a VR setting and your game would be totally unbalanced crap if it really existed, just choose the one you like the most and the readers will love it. 5. Lots and lots of situations that would leave any normal human dead in a corner of the street, indistinguishable from mashed potatoes, that your MC solves without breaking a sweat. And remember that if your MC really shouldnt be able to come out alive you always have luck, magic and the power of bullshit friendship to deus ex machina your characters out of that situation. I know what youre thinking what about the plot, the character development and all those things which are the core of a novel? 3 Plot, character development and all those things that should be the core of the novel: So we already discussed the setting and some core features your lead character should have. Now its time to talk about the other characters. If you introduce a female character she must be either: A. a member of the protagonists harem B. an enemy C. a loli D. all of the above If you introduce a male character you have many more options which are: A. the shitty noble/knight (the recommended dose is at least two shitty nobles every 300 pages) B. the good noble/knight C. the strong, strict mentor who cares deeply for the MC (Its recommended to have him die one or two arcs after he stops being useful for extra feel factor) D. that guy who is always there around the protagonist and his group that no one cares or remembers about E. an enemy who can be either a ruthless bastard or a good guy who made the wrong choice and will be saved by the MC. F. The nice shopkeeper who always helps the MC and his group See? Its really easy to develop characters. Now, for the plot, follow these instructions really carefully: Wasnt it really easy? Now you just have to throw random events at your characters and introduce new harem members now and then and your story will be great. A really important part of your work will be worldbuilding. Youre setting your novel in a new fantasy world completely different from ours; your readers will want to feel like they are in that world and know as much as they can about it. But Oinos, how can I make a realistic fantasy world? The answer to that is really simple my friend: plagiarism. Take a medieval world, add magic, demi-humans, racism and a big bad empire. Your world will soon start to be indistinguishable from all the other fantasy worlds and readers wont even notice youre copy-pasting the lore of other novels into your work. Now that the setting, plot, and characters are set lets focus on another part of a novel. 4 Grammar and style: You think your grammar sucks? You have a knowledge of the English language comparable to that of a T-shirt tag? Do not worry! Your novel doesnt need excellent grammar to be popular. Writ laik diz yu can and no one ker will. Im serious, dont bother improving your grammar and style. Almost no one is going to care and those who do are going to see their comments and reviews buried by those of your fans. Write as you like, shift third person with first person mid sentence, change POV three times per chapter, make up words when you dont find the right one. You will be remembered for ages as the best author of the decade. And now a hot topic. 5 Sex: You might want to write a romance that ends well, with the two characters involved starting a relationship long before the novel ends, which means you will have to write or hint to sex scenes here and there. HOW DARE YOU! You cant write about normal relationships! What are you, crazy? Choose, you either write over-the-top porn or have no sex scene at all. Geez. Now youre ready to write the most popular novel of all time! (Except for those novels whose author is dead, you cant beat dead people in popularity, you stupid.) What? Youre still here? Go write something! Oh, you think this guide will just make your novel the same as a badly translated Japanese webnovel, and a shitty one at that? Well, no shit Sherlock. I told you how to write something popular, not how to write a masterpiece. If you wanted to write something good you would be checking Unices Night School subforum, not this dumb guide. Scribble Pictostory Winner - Necamijat "Would you hurry up, Josh?" An iron-clad woman shouted at her partner from the back of her trusty mount. It was important to get to the city, as the delivery was on a schedule, and they were late, at least late in getting there early as she liked to operate. "Yeah, yeah, stop mothering me," the lanky, laid-back young man responded, shifting in his saddle. It was his first journey to Pandemonium, but he simply decided to take in the scenery one hoofprint at a time. He scratched the scruff that could only be called a disgrace of a beard, enjoying the tickling sensation on his fingers and cheeks. He never could grow a proper, manly man''s beard, and his friends, female ones in particular, never let him forget it, always teasing about preferring a real man as their travelling partner compared to a kid playing dress-up and war''. His eyes slowly moved to gaze at her armour, leaving plenty to his imagination. The stirring in his pants reminded him of how long his urges were left unsatisfied, and taking this job immediately after coming back from Krutanis hadn''t helped. He didn''t even shower or sleep properly, the handler being quite adamant that this delivery was extremely time sensitive. The payout was large enough for something that was so small, so there was no reason to deny the offer. If only he actually read the assignment closely, he wouldve realised what he was getting into. Sandra was a slavedriver. The woman had no qualms about whipping you, both figuratively and literally, into doing what she considered you were supposed to do. The only reason anyone ever went along with her and her downright sadistic antics was because she was uniformly recognised as being one of the most skilled porters while being drop-dead gorgeous to boot. There was a rumour in his hometown about redheads, and Sandra certainly ticked every part of the list based on what he heard. "You know, you could chill out sometimes, Sandra. It''s not like we''re going to be late. You always make sure to be early, so why not take it slow this time, take in the scenery, enjoy the wind against your face?" Josh quipped at the woman slowly gaining ground on him. He wasn''t as good at horseback, and he never owned a mount, or at least bought one, Chestnut here borrowed from a friend. Zac surely wouldn''t mind Josh taking her for a small walk, Pandemonium was only a week away at most. He made sure to leave a note this time as well. Josh gazed at the scenery in front of him, the greenery much more pleasurable to the eyes compared to the endless sand of Mal''holog. He closed his eyes for a moment, the murmur of water drowning out the hoof stomps of their mounts and, hopefully, Sandra''s curses and orders. His meditation was cut short by something sharp grazing the top of his nose. The sudden sting of pain and itching made him almost leap off the horse, the timely realisation about his whereabout stopping him from what would be a face-first collision with the ground. He glanced at the direction the shot would be most likely to come from and Sandra was already barking orders at him. "Goblins! Get going and get down!" She clasped the reins of her horse and lay into her saddle, both mounts gaining speed. Josh could only hold onto the reins and hope to not fall, Chestnut instinctively following the gallop of the larger stallion in front. Projectiles flew through the air as Josh discerned some small arrows and pebbles being the weapons of choice for their would-be assassins. Goblins weren''t actually assassins, the vermin being too loud as they fed on simply causing as much destruction of human property and lives as possible, but such minute details were of no importance at this moment. The horses raced forwards, the gallop bringing them closer to the Upturned Mountain, as the large aberration of the ground in front of them was called. Josh could discern their destination but was dejected to realise they first needed to fight off their attackers. Goblins would eventually swarm and cause a lot more damage than seemed possible, so removing a smaller group on sight, or in many cases smell, was advisable. Eventually, the barrage of small objects stopped as the pair turned a small hill, quickly abandoned their seats, and sent horses further away to not get in their way. It was difficult to fight goblins on horseback, as horses easily got spooked and the cretins were too short to get hurt by anything that wasn''t a lance. Sandra readied her twin swords and Josh holstered the small crossbow he took for the journey, starting the chants in his head. His skills as a close combat warrior were lacking, and his destructive magic was iffy at best, so he got used to fighting on the sidelines when he was actually forced to.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Moments later, a small glittery arrow was nocked into the crossbow, the arcane mana glowing against the dull colours of the softwood, and many more could take its place as his repeater was getting slowly filled. Sure, the repeating crossbow had little of the range and a fraction of the power of a regular bow, but it was perfect for someone like Josh, a rank one arcanomage with no elemental affinities. Until he could learn to control the arrows with more finesse or perform bigger, more impactful magic, the small arcane projectiles were good fodder for the repeater, being able to dish out a barrage for lengths of time, or at least until the old thing got stuck or fell apart. Josh grasped the crossbow with one hand and secured it close to his hip as he held the other hand on the lever, then shadowed Sandra as she slowly made way to where the enemies would be coming from. Seconds passed with neither of them uttering a sound, as Josh gulped audibly, steeling himself for the ensuing bloodshed. Soon enough, the air in front of them reeked of the encroaching goblins, the stench preceding their ugly mugs. Trying not to gag or retch, Josh counted their attackers as they ran downhill. Quickly cementing himself, he pulled on the lever, targeting the abomination closest to him. The projectile lodged itself in the thing''s leg and made it stutter, its inertia causing it to fall over, the other goblins nonchalantly stepping over their fallen comrade as they ran. A clumsier goblin would trip over the downed one, eventually slowing their race downhill. Sandra stepped forward, decimating the goblins that reached the bottom of the hill. One goblin would have its head cleaved off its spindly neck, the other would lose a portion of the lanky limbs that were holding a makeshift spear or a club, and a third would simply get skewered and kicked off the sharp blade. To an observer, Sandra would move like a graceful dancer between her enemies, not letting anyone reach her. Her blades danced in accord, terminating anyone that stepped into her range. Josh''s job, on the other hand, was far simpler and cleaner. He''d casually pull the lever back and forth and an arcane arrow would slice through the air between him and the goblins. Some would get hit in a leg or an arm, which caused the small lanky goblin to simply become easier fodder for Sandra''s blades, while the luckier ones would receive a bolt in the head or heart, the arcane magic rippling through the organs as they detonated the surrounding magical channels, ending their already fleeting lives instantly. Now and then, Josh would miss and curse, but the aim would be simply readjusted and another arrow would be flung not even a second later. The battle, or more appropriately the slaughter, lasted until what little surviving goblins decided to scram, some holding their disabled limbs as they limped across the reddened grass. Josh sat on the ground, exhaling loudly, the air gushing into his lungs as he could finally feel his heart racing. Goblins were one of the least dangerous enemies they could encounter on their journey, but without Sandra, he would''ve been hard-pressed to stay and fight a swarm of them. He glanced at his companion, the redhead cleaning the goo off her blades, and sighed. She looked more ravishing with her armour bloodied, something that shouldn''t have been possible. Another throb in his loins reminded him to take his eyes off her. He turned to taking care of the cut across his nose, taking a small gauze and peeling it on the skin, while chanting a small healing spell. It stung like all hell, but it would have to do. Sandra watched the man applying the spell to his nose, the protruding feature bathed in light. She had to admit, he was useful in thinning the numbers, despite his non-existent discipline and easy-going attitude. She glanced at his dishevelled brown hair and caught herself smiling, then quickly got back to polishing her blades and armour. "Not bad, Josh. Nice aim," she spoke while avoiding to look at the young man. "Well, mostly," she pointed at the patches of ground that got upturned from being hit by arcane blasts. Josh simply scratched his head and smiled. "Yeah, I''m trying to get better at it." He then lost the grin, and for the first time during their travel, Sandra could actually feel him being serious. "Thank you, Sandra. I don''t know what I''d do without you." She actually appreciated the sentiment. It felt empowering to be able to help and fight alongside someone, especially considering she was mostly mocked for ''trying to behave like a man''. They started combing through the bodies but gave up after the first few remains gave nothing but a sour smell and dirty rags. They gathered the few outlining corpses towards the larger litter of bodies and set it ablaze, as the stench of the smoke stung their nostrils and watered their eyes. A whistle caused the steeds to trot back to them, as they mounted up and got back to their journey. The city of Pandemonium was ahead, the storm clouds covering the Upturned Mountain sheltering it from view. The Mountain held not one, but two void-rifts, one on each of its sharp peaks. The city was frequently besieged by monstrosities but held nonetheless, standing as a paragon of human stubbornness against nature. The shining tower was said to occasionally light up, the burst of light dispersing the clouds, signalling the position of the city to the travellers. Josh and Sandra regained their earlier tempo, a bit more eager to get to the city. Sandra looked back at the man that already took a slouch in the saddle. He appeared more confident or looked a bit stronger somehow. Maybe there was something more about him than what he showed so far. "The first drink''s on me," Sandra shouted, Josh only grinning in response. There was still a long way to Pandemonium, but the journey was at times more enjoyable than the destination. Scribble Pictostory Winner - Tapeking Autumn came, heralding golden leaves that fell to the ground in lackadaisical piles. Jack Minnow felt the cool air brush his cheeks, his small body spread-eagled on a hill of emerald grass. His eyes watched the shifting golden canopies lit by the sunset, and a deep sense of peace settled over him. Thanksgiving break was here, and he had all the time in the world. Their cottage stood a little ways back, a small, derelict thing which held a cozy charm. He could barely hear her mother working within, finishing building an ornate fireplace. Shed be here soon, he knew; she always checked on their little Jackie, and he wanted nothing more than to share this sublime scenery with the ones he cherished most. Theres nothing nicer than rural Ohio in autumn, he thought as he surveyed the small shrubbery. A small head poked out of a bush before a large form emerged from the underbrush, eyes twinkling, its golden fur matching with the warm colors of autumn. Jack rushed up to his golden retriever, Lucky, curious. Why are you back so soon, boy? he murmured. The dog shook its furry mane once before depositing something small and furry onto the cushion-like leaves. He felt a wet tongue tickle his ear as he bent down to inspect the prey. A small bird, white-colored, its wing bent at a strange angle. Jack gasped, backing away from the wounded creature. Mom! he cried. I- I think Lucky found a hurt baby bird! Moments later, footsteps sounded down the path and a brown-haired figure emerged in the distance. His mother, Annie Minnow, crouched down behind him and gasped at the sight. Here-- weve got to help his wing, she said, slowly picking up the bed of leaves upon which the bird sat. Her movements were slow and cautious so as to not disturb the small creature. Its curious dark eyes were filled with agony, and it chirped and buckled all along the route to the cottage. They were lucky that his mother was a veterinarian, Jack thought as they made their way up the stairs of the cottage. She placed the leaves with the bird into Jacks hands, saying, Dont drop it! before dashing into the back room for her tools. Jack stared at the small bird, which stared back at him with panic in its eyes. He gave it his best smile, hoping to reassure the little thing. Its okay, he said, as if talking to a small baby. We dont want to hurt you. Surprisingly, the little bird seemed to relax slightly at his cooing tone; or perhaps itd realized that struggling would only aggravate its wound. A moment later, his mother returned, some pins and a strip of gauze cradled in her arms. Step back, she ordered, adopting the professionalism of a seasoned veterinarian. He obliged, leaving the room and wandering outside. For the next half an hour, he paced restlessly on the balcony, finding himself unable to leave.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. A moment later, a voice rang out from within the cottage. Come in! He hurried inside to find the small bird chirping happily, a makeshift cast holding one wing together. It hopped about, flapping one wing before almost tumbling down the table. Jack laughed and cradled it in his arms, watching as the little thing cuddled itself against his chest. Ive given it some painkillers, his mom explained, exasperated. Here, give it to me, she said, holding out a hand. Jack reluctantly returned the furry creature, watching as his mother slowly placed it in a small box. You can visit it, but dont take it out of the box, she ordered. Jack hopped up and down, excitement written all over his face. Can- can we name it? he asked. Absolutely not, his mother replied curtly, taking off two plastic gloves. Were going to release it to the wild in a week. Creating any emotional attachment only-- she cut herself off upon seeing the crestfallen look on Jacks face. Alright, fine, she allowed. But just know were going to release it soon. Dont get too attached to it. I think Ill call it Jackie Jr.! he exclaimed. In the days to pass, Jack spent much of his free time playing with the little bird. He even left the house to pick up nuts to feed it, a plan which would have been disastrous had his mom not intervened at the last moment to tell him that his blueberries were poisonous. It chirped and bounced and snuggled up against him. Jackie Jr. especially loved napping in the palm of his hand, its small, yellow beak resting on the tips of his fingers. Soon, a week had passed by, and it was time for the bird to go. Its wing was almost fully healed now, though it had not yet attempted to fly. His mom and he stood in the balcony now, the small dove peaking out curiously from within his arms. Well, I guess this is goodbye, Jack Jr, he said softly. A pang of sadness stirred in his chest as the little bird looked back to him, confused. Suddenly, a chirp rang out in the distance. A large dove descended onto a nearby tree, calling out to Jack Jr. The little bird perked up, its head swivelling to eye the larger bird. I think thats its mother, Jacks mom said softly. Its time to let it go, Jack. Alright, Jack sighed. With one hand, he gently lifted the small dove to the sky. Jack Jr. gave him one last remorseful look before taking off, soaring to join its brethren and leaving a little boy with his mother to watch in silence. Newspage: 20 – 26 February 2017 Krill: Welcome to this weeks installment of Newspage, I am your host, Krill. Cookies: And Im Cookie! Krill: Todays headlines: Kanadajs project, changes in hyperlinks, and WriTE elections. Cookie: And double stuffed Oreos! Krill: First, the project. As most of you must have already noticed, an admin of RRl C kanadaj C has asked to use some of the data from the site on his final project. We at Write Way wanted to firstly congratulate kanadaj pre-emptively on what will probably be an amazing project, and then to assuage any concerns readers may have regarding the data. Kanadaj has assured us that the data is both anonymized and relatively impersonal. He basically needs to know things like where are most RRL users from, information which they C and anyone with access to sites like Alexa C already know. By asking for permission, he is both respecting the users rights and following university procedures, so good job Kanadaj!The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Cookie: Yay, good job! Krill: Second bit of news is the change in hyperlinks in chapters on RRl. Chapters will no longer allow hyperlinks (which is why we are discontinuing the ranking lists) however, top and bottom author notes still allow hyperlinks, so remember to follow your favorite authors other works/social media etc! Cookie: Like cookies on facebook! Krill: Lastly, RRls largest group C Writers To The End C is holding elections over this week. Although non-members cannot vote, dropping by the discord chat over next week should be a zany experience, to say the least. WriTE is in charge of this magazine, as well, so the future of Webfiction is up for grabs! Cookies: Make me mod! Krill: And thats all that we have tonight. Note that there wont be a Pictostory winner for this week but tune in next week for more Scribble-y goodness! Thank you for your time. This was The Newspage with me, Krill. Cookie: And me, Cookie! Krill: See you next week! Cherdenkos Crystal Ball Welcome to the weekly horoscope trivia with yours truly Cherdenko1. This time we''re going to discuss your fortunes related to your favorite novels. It will also contain advice for writers depending on their signs. First, lets take Aries. For readers, it''s quite a sad incoming week because majority of the novels youre reading will be posted late, or worse, they will be posted the next day! For Aries writers, its better for you to tone down the action scenes and fluffy moments of your novel so that it wont drive readers away. Your lucky number is 6 and 9. Now let''s move on to Tauros. Readers please be careful while reading any nsfw novels or mangas this week because you have a high chance of being caught in "doing the act" while reading them. For Tauros writers, youd better rest for a day or two this week because inspiration may come during those resting times that may improve your story. Your lucky numbers are 12 and 27. For Gemini! Dear readers you will have a good week! Novels you like will have multiple releases and the plot of the incoming novels will be much better compared to last week. Gemini writers! Better add some twin lolis in your novel to attract more readers but remember handle them with care or be burned to death by haters. Your lucky number is 3 and 5. For cancer readers, beware of sudden plot twists in your favorite novels. You might also experience some multiple release but the chances are slim. For Cancer writers, do multiple releases this week so that you may attract a lot of readers. Your lucky number is 1 and 4.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Leo, oh Leo. Readers flame those writers you hate, they might change their way of writing to satisfy you! Dont go too far though, or it might result in a war! Writers be careful, a lot of readers with torches might just start flaming you for no reason so tone down on releasing chapters this week. Your lucky number is 2 and 7. Libra. For readers expect some fluffy moments on your favorite novels incoming release this week. For writers please avoid any romance in your novels this week because honestly your readers will just skip them. Lucky number is 11 and 19. For Scorpio. Readers be careful the feel bus is coming for your favorite novel. Writers do some unexpected plot twist in your story this week. Your lucky number is 15 and 20. Sagittarius. Readers, something bad may happen in your favorite novels that have animals in them. Most likely, the mc''s pets may experience some tragedy. Writers of Sagittarius, you better add some companions for your mc this week. Lucky number is 25 and 50. For Capricorn. Readers be mindful of your internet connection you might get disconnected while reading your favorite novel or worse you may keep experiencing server shut downs. Writers if you have read this then your fortune is doomed for the next week, no buts. Lucky number 0 and 22. Aquarius. Some stories may happen near the ocean setting for the readers and also the mc of your favorite novel will encounter some good fortune related to bodies of water. For writers drink a lot of water this week, you have a high chance of being dehydrated. Lucky number is 39 and 49. Lastly for Pisces. Readers, its good to check for some new cooking novels this week, they might suit your taste, and for writers, avoid eating while writing because you may choke. Lucky number is 85 and 95. That''s it dear readers. Thank you for reading this weeks horoscope. Remember though, fortunes maybe good but your fate is in your hands! Newspage: 27 Feb - 5 March 2017 Krill: Hello and welcome to the NewsPage, I am your host, Krill. Cookie: And Im cookie! Krill: This weeks top stories are: Scribbles namechange to Pendragon, WriTEs elections, change new worlds meteoric rise on topwebfiction, and strife in the LitRPG community. Cookie: So much stuff! Krill: First, Scribble C the group based in Royal Road Legends C voted to change their name to PenDragon. Pendragon leaders said that the name change came about because of the difficulties in explaining the groups purpose with a vague name like Scribble and a desire to rebrand. Other experts and Group Leaders, as well as admins, have expressed confusion regarding this change, unsure of what it means for the group and the wider RRL community. Needless to say, we wish Pendragon the best in their future endeavors and hope they will continue to make RRL a lively place.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Cookie: WriTE is still the best! Krill: Speaking of WriTE, Writers to The End C the largest group on RRl C has started its voting process. Although the ballots are secret, sources suggest that the race is too close to call just yet. Cookie: Make me mod! Krill: Over on TopWebFictions.com, long-time RRL favorite, Change: New World, has shot up triumphantly on the weekly rankings. The question is, how long will this last? Cookie: Forever! Krill: And finally, strife and infighting in the wider LitRPG community after Aleron King C the self titled father of American litrpg attempted to trademark the phrase LitRPG and allegedly suppressed rivals on his facebook group. Rival Blaise-Corvin took him on in an lengthy post and sources indicate that the trademark claim has also been thrown out. Good news for LitRPG lovers, but the effects of this split have yet to play out. Well bring you more updates as they unfold. Cookie: Delicious gossip. Krill: And thats all we have for you this week, stick around for some more articles and short stories. Im Krill. Cookie: And Im Cookie! Krill: And this was, NewsPage. “(A) Narrator’s Impromptu Fluff Filler Piece for Write Way Magazine,” by j0nn0 Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to sit down on his fat rump and write something for a change. Thats all fine and dandy, but hows about you come on over to say hello to the populace, j0nn0. Huh? Whats that you say? You dont intend to actually say anything and want me to represent you, or rather, a partial view of you as the front in a slightly obscure cameo within some digitally released publication and provide a filler article composed of fluff and little to no tangible content for the readers to enjoy? Eh, whatever. Lets get this show on the road. Its not like youre going to bother writing for any of your actual stories anyways. Go back to studying or something and make that college education worth your money. So, what do we have here? Write Way Magazine? A story perhaps? No, that cant be. If it were a story, I, as the Narrator, would play an integral part in its telling, even if I were not to be officially recognized as such. (You do know how narrators work, right? If not, Ill leave you to brush up on your literary terms.) Hmm Give me a sec to pull up their blurb, or is it called a synopsis now/again/not-again? I can never tell whats the trending term these days. Anyways: Write Way Magazine is a weekly publication aiming to bring articles, short-stories, news, and editorial pieces related to web fiction, to you, the readers. The world of web fiction has grown over the years yet it is not serviced by mainstream literary magazines or journals, a hole Write Way Magazine intends to fill. To submit an article, please send WhoCares a message over RRl or Discord. I guess this entry would fall under the editorial pieces category. Now that I take a moment to think about it, what is my topic for this editorial piece, j0nn0? ...j0nn0? Hello?If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Darn. He left me hanging. I guess Ill just wing it or ask WhoCares for some prompting, but considering his username, Who Cares! Where was I again? Picking a topic for the editorial piece, a random rock whispers to me. Why thank you, random rock who just so happens to be able to talk for no apparent reason other than to provide a continuation point for this disjointed, jumbled, scattered, derailed train of thought. Lets see The history or WriTE, my origins as The Narrator, potatoes, RRLs progress since circa 2014, the discord channel, more potatoes? Nah, too boring. Errr, yeah. Okay. I got nothn. Maybe the article title j0nn0 provided for me may be of service. (A) Narrators Impromptu Fluff Filler Piece for Write Way Magazine Smooth j0nn0. Smooth. That just about dashed that plan. I think Ill just write a little short story after all. As with any good story, we must begin with Once upon a time, there lived a little rock. Coarse, banded white, brown, and black, roughly the size of a closed fist, it stuck out like a sore thumb in the dry desert, for its only companions were the the skies above, earth below, and scattered clumps of sandstone. Each day, the sun would bear down upon its small form, baking it to the extreme, while at night it would be kissed by the moons rays and caressed by the frigid air. The stars above would stand vigil on those dark nights when the moon was absent. It was a peaceful existence, but a solitary one. The years would pass one by one, blurring away with the passage of time. Around it, its neighbors, the sandstone, would wear away to fill the sands and the sands themselves would wear away to give form to canyons. All the while, the little fist sized rock remained unchanged. Eventually, the little rock began to question itself, then question its surroundings. Why am I? it would ask the blue sky. Because, its winds would whisper. Where am I? it would ask the sands. In the desert, they would reply. What am I? it would ask the moon. A piece of schist, the soft light would spell. And so it existed, content in its own existence. The end. What? You expected something more? Youre barking up the wrong tree, buddy. Go read Just A Rock by Vocaloid if you want to read more on rocks and their environments. Narrator signing off. Peace! DRAFT is recruiting! Are you a grammar nazi? Do you want to make RRL a more grammar friendly place? Are you the kind of person that enjoys proofreading others stories? Then look no further! I am GeneralPhone and we are DRAFT, a group dedicated to proofreading and editing stories! We strive to make RRL a more grammar friendly environment, helping authors be as proud as they can possibly be of their stories. Everyone has a story in their heads, some magnificent idea that crawled out from the deepest recesses of their minds, one day, and forced them to sit down with a pen and paper, keyboard and monitor, or even stylus and screen, to write the tale unraveling inside their cranium!This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Im sure the readers of Write Way magazine are well aware of these feelings, therefore we here at DRAFT wanted to join forces with YOU to help combat barriers of language. We want everyone to be able to tell their stories cleanly, in a manner that is easy to understand, yet still something the author can call their own. Doesnt that sound amazing? If you think it is, contact me on discord or on the RRL website, where my name is GeneralPhone. Weve had some big changes lately that have shaken up the entire community! And although we lost some members to the dreaded beast that is college, Im hoping that we can get our big projects rolling again! Plenty of big name authors ask us for help, though, weve only been able to work on smaller projects, lately. No matter the size of someones fanbase, we want to help people tell their stories. Do you want the same? Then youve got a home at DRAFT. Pendragon Pictostory Winner - DarkSun Blue sky. Green fields. Sun shining through a clearing in the clouds. Who could imagine a more perfect scenery? Varin could. He glided among the clouds, beating his wings in a lazy rhythm to keep afloat. Below him, far in the distance a pair of travellers were making their way through a rugged path. They stopped near a sign promising the certainty of death upon advancing and ignoring it stared past. One of them, an old mage of the Rhyana order, pointed at the structure behind Varin. Without needing to see, he knew the mage gaped in awe. His eyes would burst with terror and excitement, lips whispering words that made no sense. Hed quiver, his pointing finger shaking. After awhile the mage would find his confidence, determination overtaking his features. He would be ready to move forward. Pathetic. So pathetic and predictable. .. and so very human. Varin caught an air current and swerved right, catching it. Voices reached him from above. Other birds were chattering in eager tones. There were always those that enjoyed the bloodshed. They waited eagerly for the upcoming fight. He clicked in irritation, beating his wings faster to get away from them. Leaving the flock, he imagined himself to be alone. Away from what was going to happen. Memories of Ieela assailed him. It was only a week since she was hit by a stray crossbow bolt. Everyone came to him expressing their sorrow, blaming themselves for the event. Her teams leader even suggested to take his own life in turn. As a reparation. What would that solve? Would it bring her back? He clucked in laughter. Stupidity. Everything was so stupid. The relic, their defence, the strangers. His heart hammered as he thought about the pair of outsiders. Will they lose someone again? Involuntarily his eyes moved to the flock flying carelessly in the sky. The rest of his people were fluttering in the sun. Its warm rays danced on their white wings. Washing them all in gold. Bronzed sculptures hung in the air. Flutter of wings and the picture was broken. He turned away. Death would take whoever it wished. It wasnt his place to worry. Still, he returned his gaze to the two figures by the sign - the last resort to make the travellers turn from their perilous path. A fruitless one. Through all his years hed not seen one party that changed their course. Those who reached this place had already gone too far to back off. In their eyes, there was no longer any choice. ''Varin! a voiceless call came into his mind. Karo? he asked surprised. What could the leader want from him? He finished his rounds yesterday and had today off. As far as he knew. He tried recalling if he forgot some task or extra chore but nothing came to mind. It was awhile since he talked with anyone of authority. They couldnt give him any orders if he didnt meet them. Could they? The clear voice spoke again. Return to the Nest. Its an order. He missed a beat and had to catch himself in the air. The Nest? This couldnt be as simple as a missed assignment. God.. What did they come up with this time? Something more to repay him for allowing his mates death? Clicking in irritation, he beat his wings faster and veered towards the old relic. They better dont suggest something stupid again. He hadnt even liked the overbearing swine. *** "What is that?" Irene asked in a soft voice, shielding her eyes to have a better look. Her companion lowered his pointing finger, slightly embarrassed by his previous shout of awe. Collecting his lost dignity, he replied with what she considered his lecturing voice: deep and throaty. Supposedly it made him sound more distinguished. Fit his rank, or something of a kind. She never could grasp his reasoning behind it. Not that she listened to it for that matter. She grinned at the thought. Better he never learnt that. She should probably listen to him now, though. For a moment. "An ancient artefact. Another story lost in time, he said and Irene turned to him in surprise. Only this? That was unusual. Words tended to flow from him like water down a waterfall. Keans face was flushed with colour. His lips twitched as they shifted from a smile to a pained frown and back again. She noticed the barest movement of his hand and lowered her gaze to see Keans pale staff of office vibrating. His fingers clutched the painted wood in a tight grip, convulsing with nervous quivers. You okay? Irene asked, positively spooked. The mage shifted his feverish eyes on her. A dangerous fire was burning in their depths. She did not like it. She did not like it whatsoever. Im great! he wheezed out, forgetting his lecturing tone. Not good. She shifted from one foot to another. Could they still turn back? Without conscious thought her gaze turned towards the mountain pass they had come through. The thick snow glistened bright in the sunlight, not melting. Their prints were deeply set into the road. There was no way there. They didnt have the supplies for the return journey. It grated on her nerves that their lord could be this manipulative. In secret he removed part of their supplies so that they were forced to retrieve the magic behind the ancient artefact. Either that, or become another pair of frosted corpses in the barren lands of the north. As she thought that, she returned her gaze back to the artefact. Her back crawled. This was no place for humans. She could feel the magic emanating from the gigantic structure without being a mage. Its power was overwhelming. Pushing her to the ground with an invisible hand. The pressure wasnt strong but extremely uncomfortable. What was that towering structure in the first place? She tried to reason out its form but couldnt make sense of it. There was a city before the mountain which was normal. Logical. But on the hill stood something akin to a wheel. A broken one. And made up of three wheels. Maybe. The central one was easy to distinguish, but the second almost looked like it started off from the first one. Clouds were blocking her sight. They made it even harder to make any sense. Still, strangest of all was that the the last wheel, or well two broken off pieces of it where extending from the hill like two horns. Did that mean the structure was built in this place? She had a hard time believing that. No humans could construct such a thing. Neither did they possess such potent magic. Many tales argued over how strong it was, how dangerous but all agreed it wasnt from this world. One day it just descended from the sky and floated above the mountain range until a mage found its way in. He used its powers - whatever they were, the tales never settled on that - and brought the whole continent under his rule. Once that was done he sent the artefact away to self-destruct. He didnt want others coming with its powers to challenge him. Irene wondered now, why did he send it away in the first place. Why not keep such a weapon to oneself? If she had the sharpest spear in the world, she wouldnt break it so that no one would use it against her. No, she would hold it in her hand and make those others pay for considering attacking her. Was the mage simply stupid? She shook her head in mirthless humour. That was even harder to believe. He had subdued the whole continent. With the power of the artefact or not, it wasnt an easy feat. More than that, he retained his control over it till the last of his days. Only after his death did the lands fracture without having a clear ruler, many fighting for the title but unable to become the one. A flash of movement caught her attention. White shadows were fluttering among the clouds. Birds! Pigeons? They were white in colour. Maybe then. Or maybe it were some distant cousins of theirs. You could never tell with a giant magical artefact so close to their roosting place. Lets go! Kean said in an eager voice, swinging onto his horse. The animal shied in surprise, whinnying its discomfort but the mage managed to get on its back without falling over. Right, right, she muttered. Her horse along with the mule dragging the cart with supplies had frozen to death in the pass. You think its safe there? she asked, biting her lip. All her instincts were screaming at her it was a terrible idea to walk closer to the ancient artefact. Of course! Im here! the mage exclaimed, dismissing her worries. He returned his burning gaze to the winding path leading towards the city, and a hill behind it. A likeness struck Irene. Kean was like a schoolgirl invited to he New Years ball by the most popular cadet. Terrified its a prank but unable to resist the temptation. Heartbreaking. And she had to follow along. Tightening her grip on the spear, she put on her conical helmet and marched down the road. No point worrying about it now. There was only the road ahead. On the side, a sign in a long forgotten language stood. Its deep set-in characters passed the message clear and without Irene being able to read them. The faded, once deep red, letters seemed to shout at her to turn, run away before it was too late. She shook the bad feeling off. There was no one up ahead. The road was empty of tracks or hints of passing. No one lived here. It was safe. The words sounded hollow to her own ears. She fell into a slow run, matching the horses easy trot. Her companion was in a hurry but he wasnt stupid. Sitting in his saddle, he held his staff up and murmured words of power. Her eyes could see nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe her fears were unfounded. Carefully, they made their way towards the abandoned city. The track wasnt long but taking every step with extreme caution, it took them half a day to reach the surrounding wall. Five times their height, it stood like a bastion of power without a sign of decomposing or ruination. Luckily for them, the gates were open. The streets lying ahead were unearthly with their emptiness. Many doors swung open, squeaking as the wind pushed them back and forth. Somewhere ahead an old tree creaked. All normal sounds but in the eerie silence they rang like gongs. Flinching each time, Irene wasnt having a good time. Stop jumping at every noise, her companion laughed. Kean was in a better mood after not encountering any resistance in the road. He was growing certain theyd face no challenges in reclaiming the old magic. Her heart hammering louder with every step they took in the lost city, Irene ignored his joy. There was something wrong here. Why was this city abandoned? And why not found? If there was no danger here, why no one took back the magic in the last four centuries? It couldnt be this easy. Their enemies werent idiots. If there was such power on display - and everyone knew the myths and legends - they would have come here much earlier. The whole situation begged the question - where was everyone?If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. She hefted the spear in a more comfortable grip, where she could use it to defend or attack in a heartbeat. I dont like this place, she told the mage. Kean dismissed her worries with a wave of his hand, an eager smile on his wizened face. He looked much younger like this. Not his fifty something years. Youre too anxious. Dont worry. If there was anyone here, Id sense their presence right away. Theres nobody here. He was still using his spells? Relief burgeoned to drown her. He was still being careful. Not the fool she took him for. Maybe his rank as a senior wizard of the inner council did mean something. A rush of sound, movement overheard and Irene dropped to the ground, her stomach rolling in fear. What was this? An aerial attack? Where did they come from? She used her spear to defend herself and saw a white feather floating by her face. Feather? She whirled around to see a flock of pearly white birds disappearing within another street. Doing her best to catch her breath, she turned towards the mage. He was sitting on the ground, massaging his bruised head. You all right? she asked, moving to help him stand. Kean took her hand to pull himself up, a faint smile on his face. Besides my bruised ego? Yeah. She answered with a forced smile of her own. Her heart was still galloping like a frightened horse. It was just birds. Birds. Harmless little flying creatures. No danger. Nothing to fear whatsoever. Talking to herself in this manner, she scanned the street ahead. Unnaturally shaped towers and other stone buildings with open holes for windows. From a few, curtains flowed in the wind. Snapping from time to time. Safe but for her own imagination. Every shadow held a monster in her mind. Foolish little girl, afraid of the monster under her bed, she muttered to herself. Kean looked at her with a raised eyebrow but she shook her head. It was unimportant. They should rather move forward. Daylight was being wasted. The sun would set in an hour. The next half an hour passed in a blur of jumps, scares and scattering of small animals they roused. By the end they were both laughing at themselves, how jumpy they were without any danger present. Still, it was nervous laughter. The presence of the gigantic artefact grew larger with each step they took towards it. Irene wasnt sure shed be able to walk by the time they got close to the weird structure. Its pressure was already becoming a hassle. Her shoulders quivered as she tried to remain standing. Another sound caught her attention. This time she recognised the flutter of wings and shared a wry smile with Kean. The mage shook his head, turning to face the oncoming flock. There seemed to be an endless amount of these birds here. Irene shut her visor down and bent her knees, moving her spear in front of her in a defensive gesture. The birds might be harmless but their onrush could deal significant damage without them even trying for it. Hundreds of wings beating, talons grabbing onto the unfamiliar presences in self-defence. A couple heartbeats and the majority of the flock was past. Irene breathed a sigh, straightening out when a weird shape dived towards Kean. She was about to shout a warning but it was too late. The attacker struck the mages chest, collapsing it. Kean could only gulp a breathless oo before crashing down from the horse. His attacker tried to disentangle himself but his taloned foot was stuck in the mages ribs and the two came tumbling down together. Irene knew she should rush over, try to kill the monster that murdered her companion, but her hand was frozen on her spear. What was that thing? Humanoid with long taloned feet like a chickens and white feathery wings instead of hands. Its head was more oblong than any humans with eyes set apart so far, they were almost on different sides of the face. A beak was set where mouth and nose should be while the rest of the face was covered in small feathers. Her mesmerised freeze lasted for no more than a second but it was enough time for more of these creatures to arrive. One of them dived her. Knowing the strength of that attack she did not bother blocking and just danced to the side. Most opponents were always surprised by her speed in the thick armour and the humanoid bird was no different. It struck the ground, flapping its wings uselessly. Too late noticing that its target had moved away. Irene used the moment of the creatures shock to stab her spear into its heart. The round eyes stared at her, uncomprehending. It squawked. Then life left it and she let the body drop. As weird as these creatures were, they were no stronger than men. She could do it, she told herself. Just another dangerous situation. An attack of bandits. Nothing to be unsettled by. A chorus of inhuman screeches descended upon her ears. She tried to shut down the noise, ignore it but the creatures were loud. They were furious about her killing their comrade. She was certain of that. Then the real attack started. They came at her diving one after another, not giving her a chance to counter-attack. A few others remained around her, flying and fighting with their feet. The talons were strong enough to block her spearhead, and if she wasnt careful could lock around it and drag her spear away. She tightened her grip and thrust her spear at the newest attacker. It dropped in the air, evading. Happy, she shifted her spear and sliced the creatures front. It squawked in outrage, blueish blood discolouring its white feathers. The sound of rushing wind came from above and without thinking she jumped backwards. One of the birds crashed where she stood but before she could descend on it, another one intercepted her. Gritting her teeth, she released one hand and swung the spear around herself in a wide arc. It cleared the air around her for a heartbeat and she lunged forward with a heavy downward swing at the still immobile bird creature. The spear smashed into its head, killing it instantly. Clamour of noises and wing beats around her rose once more. No worries. She was getting the hang of it. Now that they no longer had the element of surprise on her, there was little they could do. Their attacks were overly simple and she could defend against them with ease. Maybe there really was a chance she could leave this alive. Two more birds came at her, squawking indignantly. She ignored their constant noise and kept them at bay with the length of her spear. After a moments consideration she backed away so her back was to a wall. Also there was a slightly hanging roof to hide her from most of the divers. Thrust, thrust and raise the middle of the shaft to defend against the talons. They razed the wood, peeling off paint but didnt threaten to snap it in half. She thanked her teacher for choosing such a superior weapon, when another attack came. She used the butt of her spear to smack into the birds leg and send him fluttering away as it lost its balance. Then she reversed her grip and swiped at the other two birds before her. One was too slow and was slashed but the other caught the spearhead with its talons. The iron grip was impossible to break. Irene tried to drag the spear back, level the head downwards but the bird used all the strength in its wings to raise up with it. Another moment of tug-o-war between the two of them, and she knew shed lost. If she held for any longer, the bird would lift up with her along with it. Theyd probably both crash down in another heartbeat but that would be lethal to her. She couldnt allow herself to be put in such a defenceless position. Letting go of the spear she drew the sword at her hip in the same motion and slashed at the approaching birds. They cackled at her, knowing her end was near. Having lost the reach advantage of the spear, she was that much closer to their dagger sharp talons. One wrong move and she wouldnt see the sun rise up again. No way. She wasnt having that. Calming her beating heart, Irene judged her options. She could remain here and fight, most likely losing her life. Or try to run and hope they wouldnt follow outside the city boundary. What to do, what to do. Both choices were equally crappy. She did an uppercut, slicing off a number of feathers from an indignant opponent who screeched at her as it flew away. They were weak, these creatures, but there were so many of them! She couldnt fight them all. Not twenty against one. Run then. A couple wide swings cleared the air around her and she pushed herself off the wall. Dashing the way they came, she heard the heavy beating of wings following right after her. The helmet prevented her from turning back so she focused only on running. Turn right there, straight here, left on this side, and left again. Straight now, straight. Hurry, hurry! Her muscles screamed at the unprecedented push. No one was supposed to be running at full-speed with armour. But she kept on going, zig-zagging when she thought she heard the wing beats closing in. Or the loud rush of air signalling a dive. So far so good. She could almost see the wall through the sweat dripping into her eyes. Another stride. A few more and she would be out. Something latched onto her helmet. She saw the tip of a long talon right above her visor. Terror fuelling her movements, she raised her sword, cutting the chin strap holding the damn thing on her head. Her neck bled where the sword had sliced into it in her hurry. Still, the sudden looseness caught the bird unaware and it lifted up in surprise, a sudden yelp expressing its puzzlement. As it rose, the helmet caught crooked and dragged a wide gash through Irenes forehead. She hissed in pain, brushing a gauntleted hand to clear the blood that was about to spill into her eyes. Then she caught herself. Wasting time. What was she doing just standing here like an idiot? Run! Run! Beating wings followed her wherever she went. For some reason, the closer she got to the wall, the more certain she became theyd follow her outside too. And there they would have an even greater advantage on her. So, right before dashing through the gates and into the fields, she skidded, shifting to her right and bursting into a low roofed house. No true safety here but she saw an open window almost touching the window of the next house. If she squeezed through it.. Not with this armour. Glancing down at herself Irene considered the new idea. Foolish. Dangerous. But what choice did she have? Muttering under her breath she rushed to close the door, barring it with a table. Then she took out her dagger and went on cutting all the leather straps holding her armour together. There was no time to take it off in a normal fashion. The birds would give her a minute or two, maybe a bit more before they dared to try going through the windows. In that time she needed to be away. Had to be. If she wanted to have a chance of survival. In five minutes she dropped the last piece of her mail, standing in a sweat soaked linen undershirt and soft leather pants. Barefoot she sneaked to the window and plastered against a wall, looking upwards. No one. Not a shadow in the sky. Careful not to attract attention with sudden movements, she stepped closer to have a better look. Still nothing. Could they have retreated? She didnt believe it for a second. Hiding, waiting for her to leave first most likely so they could rush on her from unexpected angles. Not so easy, she promised them under her breath and after making sure there was no one in the sky, slithered outside. Without extra precautions, wasting time to look above, she dived into the next house. Rolling to land on her bent feet, she froze. Listening. Quiet. So very quiet. Even the wind calmed down. She did not feel safe. Instead she investigated the house and found another window adjacent to a different house. There must have been little space in the city for the buildings to be so close to one another. A treat to her. The next half an hour she went form one house to another, hoping it would confuse her trail to the bird humanoids. The lack of them in the sky puzzled her but it was as it was. She couldnt do anything about it. Better to move. Avoid detection the only way she could think of. *** Varin perched on the citadels top, watching the scuttling female below. Did she think her movements were unobserved? Stupid. The mistake will cost her her life. Then again, he mused, it wasnt like she had a choice. Whatever she did, death was the only outcome. No one who entered the city were allowed to leave and tell the tale. The girl - what was she nineteen, twenty? - ducked into another house. Her movements were becoming slower and noisier. Her actions less definite. This time she almost fell down when reaching for the windowsill. Exhaustion was overtaking her. It was time to act. He didnt call on any from his group and lifted up into the air. His wings beat soundlessly as he moved towards the girl. The building she was in had only one window on the first floor and that went into a small field. Ten steps to reach the next window. Upon reaching the place, he circled in the air. The girl was moving on instinct now. It was awhile since the last time she looked upwards. Noise from below alerted him ad, she dragged herself out. Without wasting another moment, he dived downwards without a sound. Unlike his compatriots, his wings did not make a sound. The silent killer. He reached her in a quarter of a heartbeat, his talons grabbing onto her neck and left shoulder. The neck burst from the force, killing her instantly as his other foot shattered the shoulder. Jumping away, he stared at the glistening blood on his talons. Human blood. Not the first and not the last. One more time to go to the lake and clean off. He lifted up, a sorrowful note escaping from his beak as an emotionless Well done, came into his mind from the leader. Well done? He couldnt think of words less fitting than those. Flying past the city he could still see the crumbled forms of his two dead companions. Another one lay with a broken wing and slashed torso near them. Still alive but not for long. Many more were wounded. Not mortally so but some might no longer be able to fly. Others would have pains for the rest of their lives. Pains that will get them killed in the next encounter. And it would come. Soon. The humans were entering a stage where they sought the power at any cost. They no longer minded that their people did not return. They just sent more. In time, all the avians would get killed. Varin had no illusions about that. A year. Maybe two. The relic might transform the rest of the birds into humanoids too but it wouldnt last. An extra half a decade at best. Useless, so very useless. He glided near the lake, stepping in to wash the blood away. If only the memories of killing could be washed off as easily. And for what did he do it? Because the relic changed them and ordered them to? For a moment he remembered the simpler life before. An owl flying through a night forest, hunting. An unlucky mice searching for a meal. It was better back then. No questions about life and death, the reason for killing. It was plain and simple survival. Varin stepped deeper into the lake, splashing the water all around him. His feathers soaked through and soon he was drenched, losing body heat. Freezing. Time to return to the flock. Hear more apologies for the mate chosen for him that he disliked. Say his own apologies for letting those avians die under his watch. The command of leading the force to kill the strangers was given to him after all. To relieve his pain and anger at the humans despicability. Or so they said. He stepped out of the water, brushing his feathers with the beak. White. Pearly white of innocence and peace. Shaking his head he beat the wings and rose into the sky. A committee of mourners were waiting for him. Todays action was over and only the bureaucracy was left. Time to pay up his due. Newspage 6-13 March 2017 Hello, and welcome to my impromptu hijacking of the WriTE Way Magazine. I am the temporary host, the supermod Vocaloid. More accurately, I was asked to do this due to circumstances but sorta forgot which is why this is... a day late. So much for the roleplay as a Sundaypapererr, magazine. No dialogue tags because it''s just me here right now. Who Cares/Krill is a bit busy and couldn''t post this and I ate Cookie. If a Cookie appears in later newspages, it''s a replacement. Don''t believe anything Krill states otherwise. There appears to be only one article this week about a pictostorywinner over from PenDragon.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. I don''t pay attention nor use TWF so I can''t give you any updates on that. Kanadaj released a new update that allows authors to reorder their chapters, a feature they''ve been requesting for a long time. It''s even mobile compatible. There seems to be potential for war between PenDragon and WriTE. There previously was one other war that WriTE initiated and won. This time, the ones taking the initiative and hoping to reclaim their glory, enact vengeance, or just have fun is PenDragon. I''m going to post this and then post the Pictostory winner info afterwards, so stick around or I''ll stick you. Vocaloid signing out on this newspage. PenDragon Pictostory Winner - DarkSun What are you thinking? he asked in a whisper, lifting himself on his right elbow to look at her beautiful face. It blossomed with the most charming of pinks every time he did it. This time was no exception. Blushing, she sat up and brought her knees closer. Not looking at him. The flower crown on her head lay crooked and he moved closer to repair it. The moment his finger touched her hair, a bashful glance passed by him and then darted away. Her cheeks turned even redder. Emboldened Erik lightly brushed her face and without any resistance turned her head towards him. What are you thinking, he asked in what he hoped was an alluring manner. Yet he noticed his fingers shaking. He hoped she didnt. It would be too humiliating if she understood just how nervous he was. A shudder passed through her body and her mesmerising mist grey eyes focused on him. From a corner of his vision he noticed her lips parting, and a soft word escaped. You. While he sat stunned, her hand moved to rest over his on her cheek. You and me. Us. There was a quiver to her voice but he did not notice. His full attention was on those brilliant grey eyes, that quivering little mouth. As if asking a silent question. His answer was the most obvious one he could think of. He leaned forward and gently put his lips to hers, and kissed her as if his life depended on it. She answered readily, shifting her hands to his hair, pulling him closer to her. They kissed for what felt like forever, and an all too short a time. Stopping they shared an embarrassed look. Laughed red faced and out of breath. But the sun was setting and she needed to return home. Unhappily he stood up but the moment his eyes landed on her smile, he was floating once more. What did it matter if she needed to go? He would see her tomorrow. And the day after. If he learnt his trade fast, he could make her his in a year, or even a half. His mind conjured images of her waiting by their house, a three year old boy running around her with a sword. Upon hearing him come, they would turn with wide grins and the boy would run to meet him while she stood by the door. Her form would be fuller, more motherly but still as beautiful as ever. The grey in her eyes as brilliant as newly forged steel. Beaming at her, he took her hand, ready to lead her away. A trampled flower caught his attention and he noticed her crown on the ground. Bending to pick it up, he grinned sheepishly at Alice. Im sorry He raised the crown to show its rumpled condition. The girl rolled her eyes and took the flowers hed weaved for her. Without a word she brushed the dirty petals, straightened the stems and weaved the loose ends back into the crown. Then she put it on her head, skewed to the right and danced away from him, twirling in her wide skirt. How do I look? she asked making a mock formal bow in his direction; hands on her skirt spread in a half moon, right foot before the left and bent slightly. His breath hitched as the sun caught on her golden hair, the white and pink flowers. She looked like a forest goddess right there and then. A mystical spirit descended to make him the happiest man alive. Like a princess, he said in a hoarse whisper. Unable to believe he had kissed this being. She laughed, covering the sound with a hand. Her eyes shone with mirth and she blew him a kiss. Then turned away and ran. He chased after. Needing to kiss those soft lips one more time. Or two. A dozen. Maybe a hundred. Or a thousand. The moment he got his hands on her, he swore, hell never let her go again. No running away from him. She was his and that was it. Case closed. Two days later a contingent from an army passed and drafted every young man of fighting age. Erik left the same evening without time to say goodbye. When they passed through her village, he saw Alice watching through a window. No tears stained her beautiful face. Only hard steel glinted in her cold eyes. Twenty Four Years Later Erik pulled on his horses reins, signalling with his knees for her to land. His bay neighed in dissatisfaction and circled the sharp point of the mountain hill. This was no place for landing. Please, ra. Ill give you a handful of oats if you do, he reasoned with his horse and the animal snorted. It knew he would give them anyway. Still, the bay shifted in the air, tilting to the right. After a moment of gliding the horse found a fitting position and slowly beat its gigantic wings in slow descent. Five minutes later, Erik found himself on the familiar green fields of Mergul. His first instinct was to dismount but ra neighed in protest. She did not want him leaving her saddle on an unknown ground. The animal was too used to them being ambushed and hunted as they had been in the Northern countries hunting for Zelenes kidnappers. Its safe. No one is going to attack us here, he whispered to the horse, brushing the mares neck in a calming gesture. She did not fully believe him but stopped fidgeting in place. Instead he signalled for her to go ahead and she fell into a slow trot, her wings folded close to her body. The hill wasnt a huge one and soon he found himself riding through the winding path into the village. More than twenty years had passed since the last time hed been here but he could still name each house. Here lived the smith, still working judging by the heat emanating from the forge. There the villages healer resided. A bunch of young children working in her small garden. It was their payment for the bruises and scrapes treated by the old woman without telling their parents. A thin woven fence surprised him. It hadnt been there before. Same as the small hut behind it. For a time he wondered who lived there but then rode on. There would be plenty of time to find that out later. Now he wanted to see his old caretaker, the village elder that had sheltered him and given him work when his own parents were lost to a fever. The old mans house was at the bottom of the hill and up a small path, nestled in the cliff side. Its cone shaped roof was easy to spot from afar. A feeling of longing overtook him as he saw that hut. Large by this villages standards but minuscule compared to the castle he now resided in. His wardrobe was larger than the whole hut. Yet it had felt like a mansion when he had to move in from his parents hut. The three of them could barely fit in and in the elders place he could easily lie with his feet outstretched and not get in anyones way. He snickered to himself at how marvellous that had felt. Living like a rich man. Or so he told himself. People stared as he passed by, freezing in their places with mouths hanging open. It was as if he was a medusa, turning anyone who looked at him to stone. ra sensing the awe she inspired slowed her pace and walked rising her hooves higher than was necessary. He patted her neck, amused. But soon his smile died. There was no recognition in all the staring eyes. He could name each and every person. Maybe not the children but still. He remembered. No one else was doing the same. Instead of him they saw a stranger. A stranger in a soft leather jerkin with a golden silk surcoat with green adornments at the sleeves and neck. On his chest was a pin with the royal insignia. The red gems in the hunting cats eyes attracting many eyes. His horse was one of the hundred existent in the kingdom. Rare beyond comparison. How could they see the person beneath such glimmer? The large diamond on his longsword alone could buy this whole place, and more. When he reached the elders house his heart sank even more. The person that walked through the door wasnt anyone he remembered. No. That wasnt right. There was something in the features. Was that Hogin, Ulrichs father? When did his head turn so white? And the many wrinkles hiding his features? The now old man bowed to the ground before him. Welcome to Mergul, my lord. It is an honour to greet someone like you in our village. He hesitated for a heartbeat, taking a surreptitious glance at Erik. But Im afraid we cant provide you with the comforts you must be used to. Its of no consequence, Erik said, harsher than he had planned to. Amending, he added. I wont stay for long. Stand up now! Hogin jumped at his command, straightening. But his eyes remained glued to the ground. He was schooled well in dealing with nobles. Yet that made Erik even angrier. Why did he even bother returning? No one remembered him here. No one wanted him here. He was an unwelcome guest, a calamity. Turning away, he galloped back the street, cursing himself. This was a fools errand. What did he expect to find? All these people had moved on. Its been over twenty years. It would be too much for them to remember a foreigner that had lived with them for six years and then was drafted, never to return. But no matter how much he reasoned that, how logical it all sounded, tears welled in his eyes. Since before coming to this place, his family was always on the run, always moving from one place to another. His parents had died here but this was also the place where he made friends for the first time, and started learning a trade. Fell in love and kissed a girl. Alice. His heart clenched at the memory of her golden braids and the embarrassed smile blossoming upon noticing him. It had taken him two whole months to attract her attention, and even more to earn her trust. A task that could be equalled to killing the Northern general. Each a victory everyone else thought impossible. How was she now? Would she have changed much? He tried imaging her wrinkled, grey haired but could not. His mind kept on projecting the youthful girl dancing in a green field, a crown of flowers on her head. He blinked the moisture from his eyes and pulled on the right rein. ra responded with ease, turning in the direction he indicated. She trotted past a creaking wooden bridge and then glided downwards, closer to the water. This place was no more than twenty feet from Mergul but for some reason was called another village, Lugrem, and connected to the plains. ra landed on another wooden pathway and it creaked. Loudly. For a moment Erik was certain it would break but somehow the wavering structure held. Amazing. He would have never called in possible. On his left was an extremely small hut and he stopped. Not daring to advance. What if she wasnt there? What if she was there? Indecision coursed through his mind. He knew he would never return here. The bitter sweet memories werent worth it. There was nothing left in this place for him. To catch the last glimpse of her. Would it be a blessing, or a new kind of torture? Would seeing her haunt his remaining days, or would it be not seeing her when he had the chance? The decision was soon stolen from him as a pair of steel grey eyes caught his. In an instant recognition lit the womans face but she did not move. Nor was there another reaction besides the first moment of surprise. He took this time to appraise her. For it was her. His Alice. She was dressed in a thick woollen shirt tucked into oversized pants. They were so baggy, it was like she was wearing a grain sack on each leg. It could have been funny, but somehow she wore it well. There was no embarrassment in her posture of having been noticed wearing her fathers clothes. It was simpler, after all, when working with the nets and the fish brought in. Less dangerous than a skirt too when trying to navigate between the many stairs, bridges and pathways in the village. Hed seen many fishwives doing that. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Wonder that. Her father was a tailor. Did he change his profession? Unusual. She walked forward then, stopping two paces away from ra who was watching her for any danger. Not sensing anything, the horse snorted and threw her mane back. Erik. The word was a sigh and a plea at the same time. He slipped from his saddle and went to her, spreading his arms to envelop her in a hug. She remembered. She remembered! Out of everyone, she was the only one. His young years werent wasted then. She did truly see him back then! But to his surprise she took a step back. A hand raised to stop him. What brought you here? she asked in a conversational tone but her face was cold. I wanted to return here, see how everyone is doing, he answered in an instinctively defensive tone, crossing his arms over his chest. Why now? What changed? There was an unhidden note of accusation in her voice. Its been twenty four years. Plenty of time to return. Twenty four? Did she count? Hed stopped doing that long ago. A flicker of guilt. His hands fell lifeless against his sides. It was too long. Way past the time he should have returned. If he ever planned to do it. Alice noticed his posture, and sighed, waving it away. It doesnt matter. Im glad to see youre all right. The news that reach this place are always exaggerated and no longer resembling reality. He watched how she said that, the way her shoulders relaxed. A timid smile gracing her lips. It lighted her weathered face, removing the creases in her forehead. There was a new small scar near her ear where her hair were bound in a tight bun. You look beautiful, he blurted out. And he was certain of it. The ladys in the court were eye-catching with their brocade and silk gowns, gems glistening in the light and impeccable white skin. Alice on the other hand was in deep contrast with her oversized borrowed mens clothes. But it did not detract from her beauty. There was just something in the way she stood, the way her lips shaped into that surprised o. She would quickly blush then and cover the lower part of her face with her hand. He knew his mind was wandering, changing course but he did not care. His Alice was here. With him. He could not believe it. And she was even more beautiful than before. The eyes that stared at him held iron in them. Somehow he knew she would no longer be cowered by his presence like before. The fearful shy girl was gone and in her stead stood a strong, self-assured woman. As he thought that, a strange noise caught his attention. A kid was shouting. Mother, mother! Look! The boy, five years old or so, dashed towards Alice. But before he made contact, ra snorted and the boy froze. What is that, mother? he asked in wonder, looking up at Alice wide-eyed. Why does it have wings? Can I touch him? He asked and stepped forward but his old sweetheart caught him. No, Kari, you cant. Its the lords horse. Bow now as father taught you. The boy grumbled but did as told, presenting Erik with the most crooked and half-hearted bow hed ever received. To his utter horror, Alice did the same. Though hers was much more elegant. As he stared - uncomprehending - a bulky man wallowed up to their group. He bowed and then eyed Erik with his small, beetle like eyes. Is the lord bothering you? he asked in a quiet voice, but loud enough for Erik to hear. Fury blazed in his heart. That was something substantial in this whole confusing situation. He took hold of the emotion and with a flourish drew his sword. Its pommel was decorated like a dandys but the blade itself was razor sharp. Its been awhile since he bloodied it. Now was as good time as any. He advanced in a deceptively careless manner. You dare to insult the to-be-king? Have you a death wish? he asked with venom dripping from his voice. All his anger and dejection surging to the forefront of his mind, eager for release. Meeting Alice had distracted him for a bit, but the emotions werent gone. First he was forgotten, then ridiculed? He wasnt going to take it! Whatever he was before, now he was the legendary hero! He rose through the ranks with his own power, then went and won a protracted siege on his first month. Once the prince was kidnapped, he chased after the brigands through three countries. All of which were at war with theirs. Nothing stopped him on his way. And now this nobody was insulting his honour? Saying that he would come unto a woman against her wishes? He who had saved the princess and rose so high through his achievements the king offered him his daughters hand? The princess herself had begged her father for this boon until he finally relented! Erik Steelwind was a name akin to bravery, integrity and righteousness! The man staggered back from the fury emanating from him. Smart fellow. But not smart enough. He was a walking invalid. Erik would not kill him. It would be beneath him but maiming wouldnt be too much. The oaf deserved it for his stupidity. Fear was now clear in the fatsos eyes. His legs caught onto each other and he stumbled, fell backwards. Please, no! Please! Im sorry! Dont kill me! he squeaked, his voice going shrill from terror. Good. Maybe next time hell think before insulting the greatest hero of the land. Erik flexed his sword arm, noting with satisfaction how the fatsos eyes retracted, following the blade. He was about to stab when a shadow flitted past him and he pulled back. Alice half lay, half crouched over the fallen man, covering him with her willowy form. Please! For all we shared in the past, dont harm him! Please! I beg of you! The woman fell on her knees before him, crying and begging. Now fully confused he took another step back, his sword arm falling limp. What was going on? Why was she crying? Who was that fat swine to her? Did he have something over her? His fury mounted once more when a word she was saying passed through the thick haze in his mind. Husband. Please, let my husband live! Well do anything, just dont harm him! If something happens to him, all of us will die! Please let him live! It couldnt be. He stared at her stricken face, the tears rolling like a waterfall. She repeatedly begged him to not harm the man, and alternated between bowing to Erik and shielding the fat pig. The young boy was whimpering at the side, not understanding. He knew something was wrong but couldnt understand what. His mother told him to stay away so he did but .. but.. ra sensing something was wrong neighed loud and stood on her hind legs, opening her expansive wings. The gust of wind freed Alices already barely holding bun and the golden locks tumbled around her twisted face. He recognised nothing in it. She was genuinely scared of him. Not like before. Not of the boy that was a huge unknown. No. Now she was certain he might kill her at any moment. Now she feared the monster hed become. Monster? He looked at the blade in his hand. It was a bloody thing. Cleaned but that changed nothing. His eyes roamed to her face again. Searching. Seeking. But there was nothing there. By threatening her husband he destroyed any chance of rekindling the emotions of years past. A bitter laugh passed his lips. Rekindling? She was still the beauty of his youth. In the time he hadnt seen her, shed only matured and become strong. From the weak shy flower shed grown into a strong, unwavering oak tree. Even now, terrified of him as she was, she was pleading for her husbands life. To let him live. Take her if necessary but leave her husband. She couldnt take care of their child alone. And he was the monster threatening her. Disgusted by himself and this whole situation Erik grabbed onto ras reins and swung into the saddle. Fly, fly! he shouted out as ra was already beating her great wings. He could feel the muscles tensing under him, preparing for the leap. But it wasnt enough. He whispered encouragements for her to hurry. He didnt want to be here a second longer than necessary. A burst of power, clatter of hooves and they were off. ra rose high in the sky, away from the place as fast as she could. She sensed his agitation and didnt stop for hours. Wind whisked past him, freezing his breath but Erik could not feel it. Deep in the night they reached the encampment. No one interfered with him as he landed near the royal pavilion. Servants rushed out to take ra off of him and he let them. Ignoring them all, he marched towards the largest yellow tent. The guards saluted him and he pushed through the entrance. On a fur covered bed his wife lay reading a book. Princess Zelene raised her eyebrow at him upon noticing his rumpled appearance. And the occasion is? He shook his head, unable to speak. His throat was clogged with words he couldnt utter aloud. Losing his clothes, he blew the light off to Zelenes indignant huff, and went under the covers. His wife sighed loudly to make certain he heard and after a lot of bustling around came to join him. What happened? she asked in a soft voice. When he didnt reply she moved closer, gently putting her hand on his face and turning him to her. Tell me. Erik didnt know if he wanted. If he should. But when he opened his mouth instead of words a cry escaped. Then there was no stopping it. He broke down sobbing and blabbering nonsense. His nose clogged and tears streamed to disappear in his beard. Zelene brought him to her chest and softly caressed his head. Shh, my dear. Shh. Its going to be all right, she promised him in a soothing voice. And he believed her. Deep down. Somewhere. But his pain was too raw for now. There was no home to return to. The place that had held him strong through all the horrors of war, the cold and hunger was no more. Maybe it was never there and hed only imagined it. But it was the one constant in his mind. A place to return to. A woman to come back to. In his mind she was always waiting for him. Even if it took him forever, shed still be there, waiting for his return. It was how the stories went. All the other campaigners told him he was delusional. Insane. No woman would wait that long. If she did for a year it would be admirable. But he never believed them. Many fights were started to defend her honour. Or so he told himself then. Now he knew it for what it really was. All those times he was defending his own sanity. If not for her light smile and those shining grey eyes, the madness of a battlefield would have taken him long ago. He was never strong. Not in this. It was fear as much as anything that motivated him to push forward. Higher. Higher. Until he was so high no one would risk offending him. Challenging him. He hiccuped. The torrent of salty water restarting. What would have happened if hed hesitated? Stopped for a moment and looked back at what hed left? He could see it as if it had really happened; Alice standing by a small huts entrance, a small boy of three running nearby with a sword. He was golden haired like her but with Eriks own green eyes and the slightly crooked nose. The most charming boy that ever existed. But the next moment the picture was corrupted. Alice wasnt waiting for him. Instead of a long dress, she wore baggy fishermans pants and welcomed a hulking man trampling white and pink flowers in his wake. The golden haired boy stopped to wave and his eyes were a dull brown. The nose small and straight. Erik cried and cried until there was nothing left in him. He held onto Zelene and listened to her soothing voice. Before he fell asleep, empty, a sleepy thought floated through his mind. This was home. In this womans arms. She was the safe haven he had always dreamt about. Why then did he go to that village? He could not tell. Newspage 13-19 March 2017 Krill: Hello and welcome, this is Newspage and I am your host, Krill. Cookie: And Im cookie! Krill: Unfortunately, there isnt any news this week because nothing particularly newsworthy occurred, however, this is the perfect time for us to begin our public outreach program! If any of you have a story to share or think something should be discussed in the magazine, drop a comment under this chapter.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. Cookie: Gimme cookies too! Krill: Thats all for this week, Im Krill. Cookie: And Im cookie. Krill: And this was Newspage. Writers Block: What is it? And can I eat it? by Shadow_Eater21 Mostly everyone on this site has either had or heard of a Writers Block. But what exactly is it, and what can be done for it is not widely known. Now you all may ask me Who are you? And what authority do you have to be talking about this topic? Well as an author in the making and someone who has had 5-6 instances of writers block in a day but still managed to write a chapter in the end, I believe I do have some experience with it. Now on to the main topics. 1.Writers Block: What is it? It is a block of flesh made of a writers body parts Just kidding. It is a block of neural fluids extracted from authors All jokes aside, writers block is a symptom of up and coming writers (and even established ones) making them either unable to write an existing idea/inspiration in their heads come up with an idea/inspiration to write. Now, why does it occur? Well its not that straightforward. It can be because of many reasons which could be compounded on to each other, but a few of the main reasons are: These reasons might have given a few hints about what writers block really is about. Now I would like to jump at the meat of this article: CAN WE EAT THE BLOCK OF WRITERS? My answer: Absolutely! But you would be a cannibal! And maybe a felon and murderer as well (You can see my mind is really the best and the brightest place to beNot chaotic at all.) Moving on to the real topic of discussion; how to get rid of it.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Now you are all wondering (probably not, since youre just wondering when this shitty article will end) how is a lazy slob with such a chaotic mind going to help our favorite author-samas get over their writers block? To that I sayWell I dont know what to say, but fuck it I am just going to write it anyways.
  1. Getting over your Writers Block
It is simple really, just walk or jump over it It is a fucking block. How big can it be? Even if it is big, just go around it. This isnt a pokemon game where you cant go around that Snorlax without a pokeflute. Enough delusions mind, lets get back. Ok with that out of my system here are a few ways to overcome Writers Block: I think that will help you overcome or reduce your writers block. I hope it does, and revive some of the good works that are nestling inside the deepest and darkest corner of your mind behind all that porn, anime, and junk in there (I probably have the worst chaotic mind ever). If you have any doubts or problems, go bother some other person from WriTE. I aint got all day and this is their main job (I am also from WriTE Oh crap). Pendragon Pictostory Winner - DarkSun Storm clouds littered the sky. A few rays of light cut through them but did nothing to illuminate the ominous atmosphere. The canyon was surrounded in deep darkness with the only light coming from deep below. Its fiendish yellow glow was said to come from the bowels of the earth itself. But the more learned people knew better. It was the glare of thousands of beacons and lamps below set to illuminate the working grounds. All the kingdoms criminals, traitors and prisoners were sent there. A prolonged death sentence to all of them. There was no way of escape since the hole went down more than a couple miles with its walls made of smooth iron without any handholds. The only way out were hundreds of meters wide structures that served as the basis for the city at the top. From the top they looked like fingers sticking from the ground with buildings on top of them. The upper levels of Acklam were mostly military bases. They had no windows and looked like patches of black mass separated by streaks of light. Each of those had a thin black line, a bridge, connecting them together. On the left of the city, six black towers rose in a semi-circle - the Six Pillars of Hanyon. It was said that they ruled this region when the king wasnt in residence. Though, their tops were alight now meaning there was a royal person in the city. His resting place was the seventh tower, in the middle of the city, with its back against a mountainside. This was defence enough alone, but the flat-topped mountain was also surrounded by the city built within a deep hole. Many said there could be no safer place. After all, the city was surrounded by a mountain range and was onnly reachable by a number of bridges connecting it to them. In an emergency, all of the bridges could be pulled back, turning Acklam impossible to enter. Or so the stories told. Ychar stood on a cliff overlooking the city and planned his course. The bridges were still open but there was a heavy control over them with the royal personage in the city. It would never do for him to try going through there. Luckily, the storm had hit the city. It was gone now, having refreshed slightly the smoke heavy air of Acklam. But most importantly it kept the people inside. Where they wouldnt see a shadow entering from above. Without wasting another moment, Ychar checked his gear. Two baldrics on each shoulder filled with throwing knives, two more knives hidden in his arm sleeves, three on his ankles and another one in his boot. In his vest five small vials were tied securely along with pepper dust. On his belt a length of rope was attached and two long knives for hand-to-hand combat. At the back there was an almost imperceptible leather pad with four silver needles. He took out a case with ash and rubbed the blackness into his face, neck and hands. Satisfied, he returned the case to his backpack and removed the last thing from inside. A new invention that his old mentor devised after years of failures; his test subjects, not his. After securing the metallic contraption to his back, Ychar took a steadying breath and jumped off the cliff. Soft clinks of metal parts moving followed his jump and the next moment Ychar was forcefully pulled back in the air. Black leathery wings sprouted from the back. They caught the wind, stopping his descent. It actually works, Ychar murmured to himself, almost disbelieving. Then again, his teacher did extensive research. The amount of people sacrificed would have staggered even the king himself. And the man was a ruthless tyrant. Gliding, more than flying, Ychar went over the city. The flight might be an interesting experience but this was not the time for sightseeing. His target was waiting in the far tower. He couldnt be late to the appointment, now could he? Patrol groups passed underneath him, but none of them thought to look up. The soldiers held onto their weapons, marching in step and pretended to safeguard the peace. Ychar glided towards the tallest tower and softly landed on the heels of his feet. It was surprisingly easy. He pulled a couple wires and the wings folded back into a small quadrangle on his back. It wasnt heavy, nor did it impede his movement so Ychar decided to take it along. The thing might help him leave the tower too. Opening a window, he ducked in and looked around. As planned, this was the dining hall. At this time of evening and right after a storm it was deserted. He made his way to the side doors and after listening for a moment cracked the door open. Empty. Quick as a weasel, he went out and sneaked through the hallways. Patrols went past often enough but they were easy to dodge. There was a room on every corner, and none of them locked. Only once did the situation waver on a knifes edge. Ychar hid in a room to evade the patrols when he heard a sound behind him. There was someone inside. A quick survey of the room revealed a terrified maid by the window. She was standing with her hand to the back of the wall, hands covering the scream that was building in her throat. Yet they were unable to cover the initial yelp of surprise. Too late then. Ychar dashed towards her with a knife in hand. His strike was swift and true, silencing the maid in an instant. He let her down gently on the ground, but some sound must have escaped from her during his attack. There was a commotion behind the door. The patrol had stopped, and one, probably the leader, stepped to the door. Who is there? Make yourself known! he shouted out. Dammit, they were on high alert, after all. Ychar cursed and dropped behind a table. Five heartbeats later the doors burst open and soldiers charged into the room. They had left the brightly lit hallway and needed a second to get accustomed to the dimness of the room. Ychar did not give them the time. He rose, wraith-like, and threw five knives in succession. All wouldve hit their targets but for the last man who hearing the humming sound turned to his colleague with a puzzled expression. Wha- he started to ask when the man fell, and the knife that should have embedded itself into his neck whizzed a millimetre past it. The soldier jumped back in fright, eyes wide and reached for his gun. Fought with its leather strap. But Ychar was already on him. He caught the mans jaw to cover his mouth and sliced his neck open. Death came soon for the man and Ychar let him drop, cleaning his blade at the soldiers tunic. Then he collected his throwing knives and was back on his way. Faster now. Soon the missing patrol will be noticed and alerts will be sounded. He needed to reach the royal chambers before then. Up another flight of stairs, turn right. And there was another patrol coming. He glanced to the right, there was a room there, but what if there was more people inside? A huge waste of time. What else? He took in the large paintings on the walls, hanging carpets and torches lined a couple paces from each other. That large painting Not wasting time to think more about it, Ychar scaled the wall and held onto the paintings thick top. It wavered, the right side sliding far down but held. Good. Now if only the patrol was as blind as the previous ones. Carefully, he crouched towards the middle of the painting while holding himself against the ceiling and the wall.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. A dangerous and foolish perch, Ychar knew himself to be better than that, yet he was pressed for time. He had today to accomplish his task. If he failed, there would be no rectifying the situation. Even if he escaped, the civil war would have started and he wasnt having that. Not when he had the power to prevent it. Five heartbeats more and the patrols were in his vision. He was pathetically exposed. They had to see him. But he knew people tended not to see what they didnt expect to see. So, he stayed frozen with eyes closed and his breath so slow, it was almost unidentifiable. The soldiers chatted among themselves about how boring this was, and useless. Who would be stupid enough to try and assassinate the eldest prince in this fortress? It must have been some stupid joke and were the ones suffering for it, one of them complained. The other laughed bitterly. Ha, as if. Have you seen the prince? Dead people look better than him! Oh yeah! I heard he acts like a man sentenced to execution. One of the maids was whispering that hes been refusing food for the last couple days, and no one saw him sleep either! The soldier stated that straight-faced but then looked around as if fearing being overheard. He eyes the walls suspiciously before adding in a whisper. Servants are talking hes gone mad from fear. His colleagues stared at him, horrified. They shushed him instantly, looking around in fear of having been heard, and hurried away. It was often said that in castles even the walls had ears. An apt description when Ychar knew just how many secret tunnels, rooms and hallways there were in them. The moment the patrol turned a corner, Ychar jumped down, landing without a sound, and ran off. So, the prince was mad? Interesting. Could it be it was an act to draw him out? Make him careless, thinking it was an easy target? They must be discounting his abilities way too much. By the princes door a guard of four soldiers stood. They were well armed but inattentive. Ychar could have sworn one was sleeping while standing. Not the official royal guard then. Yet, should that surprise him? Lyan was a rebel prince. He believed the lies and ran away from the capital, allowing his mother, Queen consort, to rally an army behind his name. A foolish move. If not for this, Lyan could have been spared. But it was too late now. Ychar found a room not far. It was locked but he picked it quickly and moved in. Then through and outside. Impersonating a large spider, he found a handhold and then another. His feet followed after and he made his way towards the window of the royal chambers. All of its windows were barred but Ychar took out one of the vials and poured half of the liquid on them. Thick fumes rose from the place, choking Ychar. He lowered himself, trying to breathe in without falling into a coughing fit. A task much harder than one might think. Somehow he managed to catch his breath without alerting the resident of the room, and soundlessly removed the bars. Now the easiest part. He covered his hand with a cloth while half-sitting on the sill and punched with all his might. The glass shattered in an ear-splitting noise and Ychar dove in. He rolled to his feet, scanning the room with the throwing knife ready in his arm. There! The prince stood near the bed, frozen mid-step. From the first glance Ychar knew why the soldiers might think him mad. Who would ever expect to see the eldest prince in such a disarray? His clothes were frayed and wrinkled, belt loose. The mans face was even worse. His long blonde hair were in a fine mess, oily without wash. His skin was pale and thin, see-trough and black under the eyes. Those shadows were very dark and deep, eyes bloodshot. A sound behind the door broke the stare down. My prince! Is everything all right? someone bellowed without the slightest hint of worry in his tone. Ychar raised his knife, ready to throw when the prince surprised him. Yes! Ill flay anyone alive who thinks of entering once more to check! He then whispered so only Ychar could hear. The doors are locked so they cant enter, anyway. So, they stood appraising the other once again. Sadness welled within Ychar as he stared at the fallen man before him. And how far had he fallen. From childhood Lyan was the brightest start of the capital. He was open, straightforward and kind. A master swordsman and poet with a heart of gold. His teachers couldnt sing enough prizes for him while the public expressed their love and adoration any time they could. He was the perfect prince. Every fathers dream. But not Ulrich The Thirds. He was a man that inherited a kingdom with power only to order around his bedroom. From there to establishing in the castle, the capital and the seventeen baronies was what one would call the distance between earth and the sky. Yet Ulrich The Third achieved it. He schemed and plotted, lied and betrayed until he got himself an armed force to reckon with. Then he spent decades rejuvenating his kingdoms armies, renovating obsolete tactics, removing corrupted officials and useless commanders before moving to take over the last few, strongest baronies by force. All while keeping everyone from making alliances against him. Now the kingdom was united, the peaceful age could begin. But Ulrich The Third wasnt satisfied. He was furious at fate for dealing him such a shitty hand. A mere kingdom wasnt enough for him. He wanted the whole continent. The whole world. But he was old. Old and tired now. There were no more wars left in him. He could no longer sit on his giant battle horse Thunder and ride first into the thick of battle. Instead he needed his successor to do it. He was going to have his kingdom expand even if he had to break all the established traditions to have it. Like for example not crowning his eldest son to be king because he was too nice. Ulrich The Third had sneered when he said that even if Lyan did as told and went to war, hed be soon tricked, betrayed and quickly lose all his father had wasted his lifetime creating. Ulrich would never have that. You didnt achieve what he did by being that kind of person. The prince moved. He pushed the dirty hair from his face, relaxing somewhat, and asked with a sigh, Brother, what are- Ychar threw. His knife lodged right in the middle of the skull and Lyan fell backwards on the bed with a stunned expression. He was still alive a second more when Ychar moved to sit by his side. I told you before, didnt I? he whispered in a tired voice. If I was ever to become a general, Id never waste my armies when I could just assassinate the leaders. Lyan was dead and Ychar closed the lifeless eyes. He searched his heart, thinking about the older brother that often took care of him, but found no regret there. They both made their choices when the king decided to crown his fifth son, born of a beautiful young midwife, instead of his oldest, born of his Queen consort. Their paths were presented to them that very moment and Lyan chose to believe his mothers words. Oh, the things she told about the king, his advisers and the royal children were mostly all true but it had always been so. Prior to the announcement ignorance of it hadnt gotten in the way of Lyan supporting the common people. But he allowed his mother surround him with boot-lickers and social climbers, all of which on Queen consorts word showered him with unwanted truths. And embellishments where necessary. So much that soon the righteous and good prince could no longer take it and cursed his father, his siblings and swore vengeance upon them. Yet, he would have done nothing if not for his mother. She collected his supporters and those unhappy with Ulrich The Thirds rule under his banner. They all brought armies and had them fed by supporters abroad. All other kingdoms were eager to see Ulrichs just united land fall into into internal strife once more. The king, furious at the development then sent Yhar to clean up the mess with the best of the kingdoms armies. If he was going to triumph over the other kingdoms, he should have the capabilities to take care of this mess. What else did you expect would happen, brother? Ychar asked the corpse, but it did not answer. When we played games, you were always the better warrior, but not once have you won against me. You kept on laughing that the devil himself would get tricked by me. So why did you decide to stand in my way? He shook his head. Fate was a cruel mistress. She threw bad choices at you one after another, and watched with glee what you made of them. You were born at the wrong time, Lyan. Wrong time, wrong place and the wrong father. The cards were stacked against you from the moment of your birth. People like you can only get destroyed in the struggle for the throne. Even when you never cared for it, your mother sacrificed you for it. Maybe there should be tears. Ychar was almost certain he should be crying now. Lyan had always been his favourite brother. The only one that didnt mind that his mother was (for the whole two months before the Queen consort decided on a good way to kill her) the castles midwife. Yet all he felt was a sense of desolation. Another person he actually liked was gone. One more left before all were gone. And that last one, he wasnt certain he liked that much. His teacher was a great man, smart and with inexhaustible ideas for new inventions, but the amount of sacrifices he needed Ychar to hide was just too much. He could have formed two battalions of them already. Well, I need to get going, Ychar told his brother. Sleep well. And dont worry about not meeting me again. You deserve to reach the heaven while I have paved my path to hell with my own two hands. The only thing left now is to stroll to the deepest level where the devils are sharpening their tools, awaiting my arrival. He smiled ruefully and kissed his brothers brow goodbye. Their roads went astray for the last time now. Ychar stood up and searing the sight of Lyan into his mind ducked through the window. He jumped off. Black leathery wings snapped open behind him and he flew into the deepening night. There were still queens and generals to kill, armies to order and kingdoms to take over. Newspage 20 – 26 March 2017 Krill: Hello and welcome, this is Newspage and I am your host, Krill. Cookie: And Im cookie! Krill: First up, todays headlines. Cookie: Yay!Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Krill: Royalroadlegends introduced a new feature allowing writers to reorder their chapters. Also, a new blog page serves as the official newspage for all things RRL. Cookie: Woohoo! Were out of jobs! Krill: In other news, many RRL authors have made waves at other sites, including topwebfiction.com, with Mooderinos new series The good student going to the top of the charts. Cookie: Congrats! Krill: Thats all we have time for today, thank you for your time. Im Krill. Cookie: And Im cookie. Krill: And this was, Newspage. Interview of Write Way Editor by Zenlith Who cares about writing? An interview by Zenlith. Its all an experiment anyway. In preschool, I once had the principal praise me for a poem and I was like ''oh damn, call me wordsworth'', WhoCares recounts. Ive always loved writing and loved making fantasy settings. A love that hasnt disappeared, as WhoCares is currently writing a web fiction named Re:Write, a pledged fiction rapidly nearing its end. I wanted to experiment with multiple point of views adding that I wanted to see if a character who could literally do anything could be interesting. Further elaborating, WhoCares explained how it could be done. You could take the comedy route and use that to propel the reader or withhold information and make the MC less central, use the peripheral POVs to propel the reader. Watching WhoCares burning enthusiasm for writing and trying new things, the only thing I felt missing was a firm I love it when an experiment comes together. So what could possibly drive this experimental writing spree? I kept writing so I could experiment with different styles/techniques, because creative expression is the highest form of pleasure to me But WhoCares went on to add a secondary reason. WriTE''s a family to me, I come here to relax, talk to friends and lighten up which keeps me writing. I ended up becoming a leader because I was pushing for us to do more. Despite all this, it would seem WhoCares has no shortage of experiments or ideas. I read homestuck recently and wanted to blend elements of other artforms with writing I might try telling bits of my next story through music. This time I intend to blend new forms of art/writing with older ones WhoCares proceeded to talk about the write magazine itself. I thought it would be interesting. A magazine for web fiction has been attempted before but never really worked. With a sly smile the hypothesis was added. With a group of writers behind it though, it might. But despite all of that, WhoCares still did not seem satisfied. I wish I had more time to do more stuff. In fact, I think I''ll go ask for some help right now, since I can''t figure out a magic system. Despite WhoCares eagerness for going back to the bubbling experiments and exciting hypotheses, I did the only proper thing a reporter could do. I stopped WhoCares with one last question: Were you into horses when you were younger? After a long and awkward silence, WhoCares finally answered my question. Not really, the horse series was long and there were a ton of them in the used book store. After this, WhoCares drew a hasty retreat. But what do other people think about WhoCares? To get insight on WhoCares, I contacted the oldest co-leader of WriTE, a man whos been working on the WriTE project together with WhoCares for a long time. We have a very efficient system, Donkeymonsterz explains. Krill does all the hard work and I look important and reign tyranny on the populace. When inquired about the name Donkeymonsterz uses for WhoCares, Krill, he merely nodded a few times to himself, without further elaborating. I asked what he thought of WhoCares ideas during their long period of teamwork, and Donkeymonsterz seemed reluctant to answer. As much as it burns to say it out-loud, he can organize shit and works pretty hard at stuff. He added a comment on how inventive WhoCares can be. Krill''s ideas are surprisingly decent, Who woulda knew? It would seem that even Donkeymonsterz, a man who has a complicated yet playful relationship with WhoCares, had to admit to the cleverness and dedication of WhoCares. We can have many jokes and jabs at each other. His jokes leave a persistent fishy stench that is hard to get rid of... or is that just him? Donkeymonsterz explained. I simply demoted him to the lowest form of life that I thought fit of him. A krill. Very telling of their relationship was the remark from the sidelines by WhoCares. I actually called myself that. Before I could intervene, Donkeymonsterz was already jabbing back No you didn''t, KrillUnauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. I did, WhoCares insisted. As I fled the scene I heard a final retort from Donkeymonsterz. LIES While the two of them were arguing, I continued my quest to find out exactly who cares. For all I know, their argument hadnt stopped the following morning. In the meantime, I went to speak with the supervisor of WriTE, Vocaloid, the man known as the Loki of Royalroad. With a slanted smile, Vocaloid, affectionately dubbed Mocha by WhoCares, explained to me. He''s often forced to do follow up or clean up after my whims. For example, the first groupwar was sparked by me and I proceeded to force WC to make all the arrangements after making a format. But Vocaloid also had a lot of praise for WhoCares. When making big decisions with WriTE, he''ll often ask me about if certain things are alright and vice versa. WhoCares is both active and enthusiastic about the group. Vocaloid explained, moving on to talk about WhoCares as a leader.. WhoCares is finding ways for the group to keep to its goals and organise some stuff to make the group more meaningful without taking away the fun part. I think he''s the best one for the job. Vocaloid seems to agree with the assessment WhoCares is both experimental and hardworking, so I asked him to describe WhoCares in a single word, fully expecting either of those words to be used. Krill, Vocaloid said. It''s an easy to say nickname, it matches up with the Karen thing since krill is a sea life-form, and admittedly it sounds somewhat like an insult so I find it fun. Karen is an invention of Donkeymonsterz, so I could not help but find it interesting that despite his enthusiasm, hard work and experimental approach, the defining characteristic for WhoCares was grounded more in the relationships formed in WriTE, than the work done. I could not help but wonder if it had always been like that. Towards the beginning of the group he was constantly talking about Karen and messing around in chat. Vocaloid explained. It''s not a straight line of becoming more mature. Sometimes, you''ll feel the urge to test your limits and relax a bit. I feel like things could go either way. One day, WhoCares could right back to the way he acted before while still helping out with furthering the group. Or he could cut away from the RP and become super serious. But it would seem, despite the growth, WC has not yet become too mature to liven up the group. We idly chat and roleplay with each other about various matters ongoing. he explains. When asked why WhoCares was undergoing this transformation, Vocaloid drew a clear parallel to himself. Responsibility. Much like how I''ve matured after taking up a role as a staff member for RRL. I realise that what I say has consequences for more than just me. My internet identity which can get to someone''s head and act like a shield so a person feels less inclined to hold back is no longer a shield. It''s something I value. With those words in the back of my head, I went to one of the new leaders of WriTE, a person WhoCares praised for the initiative hes shown. OldBeggings usually take on the name of Background character in the chat, but is in reality a man so stone-faced he dubbed himself apathy in carnate. I asked about his relationship with WC I was met with a dry response. Talking happens. But not that much. when pressed further he added Meh... I tend to not care about others as a whole. I''d say he''s not a dick, but that''s all. At this point I knew that OldBeggings would represent one of the most indifferent voices in all of WriTE, so I pressed about how WhoCares was as a leader for the group. Meh. He''s giving good hype to new members joining. Hes laid back and doesn''t seem to get mad at anyone that much. He does what he needs to do, but I feel like he doesn''t go overboard with control. He''s done a good job. Adding that the mod chat is mostly empty, Except for little things once in a blue moon, and WC describing all the current dramas happening when we first became mods. So it would seem that even to one of the most stone-faced members of WriTE, the leadership of WhoCares has been beneficial. But is it at times less than ideal? I feel like he doesn''t go out of his way to make too many changes. OldBeggings explained. A stance that is indeed backed up by his rival-yet-on-friendly-terms, Aucis Josh, leader of PenDragon. During an argument or fight he seems way more neutral then he should be. I also think he could work better on his laid back take on groups. When fights or arguments happen between fellow write members where he should have intervened he left it be. It shouldnt be so accepted to have arguments between members. He added that I still think he should be a more serious leader. He went on point out I haven''t seen him recruit anyone recently and hold any events. But despite all this, theres still a lot of secrecy surrounding WhoCares. WhoCares has never told anyone her gender nor her age, a member of WriTE said. A secrecy that seems to fit into the name itself. When asked about the name, WhoCares explained Its ironic. When asked about speculations of the person behind WhoCares, there was no shortage of opinions. In my brain jelly, he''s been firmly established as a male. Vocaloid said. An opinion backed up firmly by Donkeymonsterz. But one person has a radically different opinion on the person behind WhoCares. How she acts and what she says have brought me to think she is a woman, Oinos, a recent arrival to WriTE explains. If someone doesn''t have a proofreader or something like that already WhoCares will probably be there to help and man, does she have patience sometimes. Oinos added that Unlike what the name says she cares, she is mature and patient but also laugh at dumb childish things people link here on the chat. With her really caring attitude it wouldn''t be weird if she was a mother. When asked about what drives WhoCares, Oinos explained that Fun. But it isn''t just that. Looking at what she''s doing lately, I''d say she wants to expand. Make webnovels more known in general and have more and more people read hers. A prospect that might explain some of the secrecy around the character known as WhoCares. When asked about it, WhoCares commented I don''t intend to stick to just writing and wanted to expand into other forms of media. I wanted to use Who Cares as an umbrella. and because I like anonymity. It seems we might just have to keep guessing about the identity behind WhoCares, and what the future may bring. When asked if the real reason for the anonymity was that WhoCares is in fact a shapeshifting krill, WhoCares promptly retreated with the words hes onto me abort! This has been the Write way magazine interviews. Thanks for your time. Online and Print: The Difference by Azirim Books are one of the few things that have managed to pass the test of time, with the oldest ones easily outlasting the most ancient of still existing empires. However, as the times change, so does everything that we humans have an impact on. Being something that we create from scratch, books have also changed throughout the times as well. With the introduction of writing in various regions of the world from 3000BC to 300BC, the oldest book soon followed. The oldest books are merely records, something that was used to keep track of what happened in a court session or simply just a payment record. Soon after, instructional texts started to be written, as a book would be able to travel places that people would not be willing to. Around the same time were the novels, telling stories to keep other people occupied, creating worlds that people could visit and return within the same day. And now, in the recent past, with the introduction of the internet, there has been yet another introduction to the world of books and novels C web novels. With this new introduction comes a question that needs an answer C Which one is preferable: a web fiction or a print fiction? The first most obvious issue is the possibility of actually writing a novel. Writing a print novel takes multiple steps. Getting an editor and a publisher are two steps that are almost necessary for the novel to get around to serialization. The novel needs to be revised and edited multiple times before anyone outside of the authors immediate contact will be able to read it. The Huffington Post asked multiple authors how long it took them to start selling their novels, and the general answer was between 4 to 10 years. With the longest taking 25 years to sell their first, and experienced authors taking 6 months to write a new one. In this aspect, the world of online novels completely beats out print novels. Writing an online novel is relatively simple. After typing it out, all that needs to be done is to put it onto a website. The process of putting a written novel on a website couldnt be any simpler, and the range of possibilities is vast as well. The choices range from putting it on something as simple as a google site, a blog of your own, or even a website that hosts collections of stories on it, such as Royal Road Legends of Fictionpress. The various options have their own benefits and drawbacks to them, but this is also very similar to the usage of different editors and publishers. The simplicity of a web site is unmatchable by any of the other choices, but the problem with this option is publicity. When just starting, there wont be much activity on the site, if any, without effort being placed into advertising your story through other means, such as showing it to your friends, or posting about it in a large forum or group chat. Putting it in a blog would be similar to putting it in a google site, with around the same amount of simplicity, but other factors like paying for the URL or extra knowledge of HTML could be necessary. However, this helps bypass some drawbacks of using something as simple as a google site, such as a page limit. Getting a custom URL also helps by making the site more recognizable, but until actual profit can be made, the money for that URL will be coming from some other source, most likely your own pocket. Putting your story on a website that hosts a collection of stories helps by increasing the audience that youre able to reach, without you having to do much at all. With a search function, any reader can quickly find your story. With a newest updates section, youll at least get a couple of readers each time you update with a new chapter. However, youre likely to be shadowed by the more popular stories on the site, leaving you in condition where youre stuck doing your best to get as many readers as possible. These tactics can take a while to bring any results, but its not like you wouldnt have to do them had you picked another option for where to put your story. However, this article isnt about where you should place your novel, its about whether or not your novel should be online in the first place. Print novels and online novels differ again in the way that they release. Typically, a print novel releases multiple chapters together, usually encompassing an entire arc. Series like Harry Potter and the Percy Jackson series solve the question of how much content to put into one novel with a simple solution C cover an entire years incidents in one novel. The individual chapter lengths dont really matter, and sometimes, there arent even titles for the chapters, which is what we see in the Percy Jackson series, starting from The Lost Hero. This means that before the actual novel is released, nobody gets to read any of the chapters, but this also means that once released, there isnt any waiting for the arc to finish being updated C its all in the novel. However, this results in a long period of time waiting between the novels for the story to continue. Conversely, the online novels update whenever the author feels like it. This can lead to an author procrastinating really hard, like Im doing on my novel, Rush, or releasing constant updates as long as their health permits them to. The logic behind constant updates is that doing so results in a reliability that the readers believe the author to have, resulting in increased popularity because the next time between the current and next chapter is a time that can be expected. Even though this means that the time between updates to the story are released every week or month, in contrast to the many months that print novels can take, this also means that an arc can take multiple chapters to finish, leaving readers in the middle of the arc for many months at a time, whereas print novels will typically finish at least one arc within the contents of its chapters. Another difference between print novels and online novels are its target audiences. Print novels can have almost any target audience it wants, and is typically decided by the contents of the novel itself. A print novel is also able to appeal to many people who are much less familiar with the internet, reaching a group of people that the online novels cant hope to reach. Online novels are only able to reach people that use the internet frequently. Such a limitation causes the reach of online novels to be incomparable to the reach of print novel, especially when the existence of libraries is considered. Anyone with access to the internet definitely has access to print novels, whereas the reverse cant be said. Statistics from 2013 show that 69% of adults read a print book in the year of 2013 while only 28% read an e-book.[1] This number is bound to be higher than the amount of people that have read an online novel. Although the number of readers of online novels has definitely increased over the past 4 years, print novels definitely still have a higher percentage. I was unable to find the average age of a book reader, or the average age of an internet user, but I was able to confirm that while the percentage of people that have read a book stays relatively close throughout the age groups, the same cannot be said for the people that use the internet. Many people in the higher age groups dont use the internet, which leaves them out of the approachable audience for online novels.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. However, in contrast, an online novel is much more accessible than a print one. Logically speaking, anyone can access an online novel C all they need to do is connect to the internet and go to the website. Accessing a print book means buying the book itself. This ultimately comes down to a tie between online novels and print novels. Although print novel may be able to appeal and be available to more people, online novels are more readily accessible for the people that have internet. Going hand in hand with the target audience issue is the issue of publicity. With a larger target audience, more publicity is almost guaranteed. Publishing companies can easily promote the novels that they publish through means of advertising C either online or in other novels that they are publishing. Magazine companies and other specialized critics are typically invited to read a novel before it is available to the public, and the reviews by these critics are used to suggest that the novel is one worth reading. Online novels have a similar capability, which is the review system that any reader is allowed to do. However, this means that anyone can give a 1 star review just because they feel like it, or that they have no idea what your novel is about. Overcoming a 1 star review from the beginning is almost impossible, since many readers will be discouraged from reading it just from the rating that the novel got. Publicity is yet another factor where the print novel shadows the online novels. Although the Constitution states that the press has ultimate freedom, when publishers and editors are brought into the equation, there no longer is ultimate and true freedom. Publishers typically want the public opinion of the publishing company to be a positive one, and as such, the company will deny some novels just because of the topics that might be covered in the novel. However, this can be easily bypassed by publishing a novel on your own, but this is something that is not usually done. This means that for a novel to be even be able to be considered for publishing, it must not cover any of the publishing worlds taboos. An online novel has considerably more freedom than a print novel does, but depending on the place that you chose to upload it, you might have some similar issues as you would have had, had you decided to go with a publisher. The greatest amount of freedom, in this case, comes from either publishing your novel yourself or by putting the novel on a website that you manage yourself. However, if the novel covers topics in a way that companies and websites wouldnt want themselves to be attributed to, should you really be writing about it? Yet another difference is that print novels are able to earn millions, especially when it comes to related merchandise rights. The possibility of a movie or related works is very high, especially when it comes to novels written especially well. The profit that comes from a book can be astronomical when compared to online novels. However, this is almost essentially a gamble. Writing a print book takes time, and with that, money. If the book doesnt sell well, then that money spent making the book a possibility isnt earnt back, which leaves you in the red. Going with an online novel is a much safer choice, but this also denies almost any chance of major profit. Making money through an online novel is different with the different ways that you can put it online. The options range from posting advertisements on the website to asking for donations. However, none of these options provide much, but at least there isnt a high chance of debt, unless youre paying for a custom URL link. Everything that you do in life brings you to a different social group. Although each group has their own good sides and bad sides, each one is, without a doubt, different. The group that you will interact with as a part of the print novel community just isnt going to be the same as the group that you will interact with as a part of the online novel community. The advice, support, and benefits that youll get from each community and group vary vastly. The Royal Road Legends community is active with hundreds of members in the Discord chat that they use, with members acting as anything from just a reader, author, or editor to an admin of the page. Although you might be able to get any help you might need faster, there are things that this group wont be able to do, when compared to the group that you would be a part of if you wrote print novels. In the end, everything evens out. Each side has its own ups and downs, which leaves you to make your own decision. There isnt really a clear-cut answer for the long term here, but as for the short term, the answer is actually relatively simple. If its your first time writing a novel, and you have almost no experience, youll definitely want to start online first, where the stakes are much lower. Youll be able to publish one chapter at a time, and view any reviews that you get. The online community has many people willing to help you as you get better. However, if youve already been writing for a while, then the decision to go into the print business no longer seems as ludicrous as it once was. [1] http://www.pewinternet.org/2014/01/16/a-snapshot-of-reading-in-america-in-2013/ - information about the readership demographics. ? Azirim Newspage 27th March to 4th April 2017 Krill: Hello and welcome to Newspage, Im Krill Cookie: And Im cookie! Krill: Last Weeks top stories are: Royalroadl April fools updates, Pendragons restructuring, scheduled releases on RRl, changes to the front page, the WriTE v. pendragon war, asphaltus scene war, and the completion of FrustratedEgos The Fiascos first book. Cookie: So much stuff! Krill: First, to celebrate April Fools day, royalroadl updated the sites title to Royal Toad with new default cover art, new logo, and new genre and tag names! Cookie: Toads Krill: Pendragon, one of the largest groups on RRL, went through a large restructuring process to help them better deal with the large member base they have accrued. Their chat now includes classrooms to help authors improve their writing!This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Cookie: I dont like classes Krill: A new and much requested feature has made its way to RoyalroadL at last, as authors can finally schedule releases of their chapters! There are still a few bugs that are currently being worked on, but the development team is on it! Cookie: Good job guys! Krill: The front page of RRl (for logged in users) now includes trending fictions near the top, a move greatly supported by the author community, as well as the return of a better, more well regulated top reviews section! Top weekly has also been brought to the front page, as has a feed of news and updates meant to convey important information directly to the community. Cookie: But our news section is better! ? Krill: Writers To The End and Pendragon are currently working on the specifics of a new house war after WriTEs amazing performance in the previous one (Pendragons predecessor C Scribble C was utterly destroyed.) Cookie: Ha! Krill: Asphaltus C a member of Writers To The End C along with the rest of WriTE, held a scene writing contest whose winner will be revealed soon! Cookie: Awesome! Krill: Finally, a famous author C FrustratedEgo C has finished the first book of his The Fiasco series so go check it out! The Sex Talk by Oinos Lets admit it; writing sex scenes is difficult, and realistic sex scenes even more so. Ive read my share of webnovels and its not rare to stumble upon weird and unrealistic sex scenes, those arent wrong per se, an author might actually be going for such a scene and its completely fine if thats the case, but its more common that they are the result of a lack of personal experience and too big an influence of porn and hentai. Today Id like to give a few hints to all those who are struggling with their first sex scenes. Lets start with something easy: kissing. Everyone knows what kissing is about, right? Lips touch, there could be some tongue here and there, easy stuff generally speaking, right? Apparently no. The internet is full of web novels in which tongues explore or invade the mouth of the partner with spit going everywhere, ending the kiss with a bridge of saliva and two people panting like dogs in heat. Your tongue is neither a British soldier in pre-colonial Africa nor a conquistador. Tongues dont invade mouths, unless you are an awful kisser. Tongues greet each other, dance around one another, they tease each other, play. A good kisser is one who can stimulate every part of their partners tongue without ever seeming insecure or overwhelming, interrupting the dance at the right times for things like a light bite on the lips or looking in their partners eyes. During all this the hands arent still, they are the ones that should explore but also hold, embrace. About the saliva, yes, kisses are wet and can be messy, this doesnt mean that you transform into an irrigator as soon as you lips touch those of your partner and, while those infamous saliva bridges can and do happen, they are rare, not the standard. Now lets move to the real topic of this guide: sex. Sex isnt only about mouths, breasts, vaginas and penises. While a quickie is always good now and then, it doesnt really make for good writing material. As writing is not a visual media most of a scene will have to revolve around foreplay and the reactions of the people involved. Let me say this immediately, taking the clothes off, touching a breast for a bit and going straight to cunnilingus is not good foreplay. The human body is full of erogenous zones to the point its almost impossible not to touch one, thus you should take advantage of them in your writing and, most of all, remember to go slow, no woman likes going straight to the point and neither do most men. Start far away from the hot zones, make your characters stimulate various parts of each others body, while the more famous neck and thighs are already a better start than going straight for the breasts, go even farther. Its incredible what a single finger starting from the hand and tickling its way up the arm, indulging on the inner side of the elbow, just to continue towards the armpits can do to a woman. The same is true for a hand that starts under the knee to caress the leg, then the thigh, slowly reaching for the crotch. See? Those hands now seem in the right place to focus on the breasts and private area, right? You could now go for them but it wouldnt be much different from the initial situation. Instead make the hand that was on her armpit trace her collarbone to her neck, maybe then go to her ears and the other one tease her sides, only then reach for the breasts and from those move down again, moving the hand onto the belly, pausing for a moment around the navel before finally reaching the crotch. There you can keep teasing for a bit before stimulating the outer parts with the hands or the tongue.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Even this small example is already much better than kiss->fondle breasts-> stick dick in, isnt it? But it was just that, an example. Everyone reacts differently to the stimulation of different parts of their bodies and the different methods of stimulation, some may like being touched by hands, others may like oral stimulation, others still biting or, why not, slapping. These differences in reaction have to show in your writing, your characters will have things they like and things they dont, things they are good at and things at which they arent. Dont be fooled by this example in thinking only women get pleasure from those though, men have the same erogenous zones and if one your characters is an experienced woman she will exploit those zones when having sex with a man. The reactions of your characters will have to feel real, people dont shout Im coming during an orgasm, heck they might even forget how to even breathe properly in that moment. Before that moment though people think, sometimes they speak and certainly they dont think things like I want his dick to drill me like an oil well or Im going to split her apart like a kitkat bar. What do people think during sex? It depends, according to their mood, how comfortable they are with each other, how their day went and many, many more things. A young couple at their first time might really be anxious and focused on what they are doing, while two people who already had sex a lot of times together might be thinking of what theyd like for dinner or talking about the color of the new curtains they are going to buy for the living room. While we are at it we should focus for a moment on first times. First times are awkward, people are filled with anxiety and nervousness. No one excels at their first time; no one has awesome sex at their first time. Guys have a high probability of having problems with getting it up or finishing too soon while girls almost certainly will not get an orgasm and for most of them it will be like that for a lot of times after the first in their youth. If you have to write about a first time, write it awkward, innocent. It wont be awesome sex, but it will still be amazing because its the first time. Show this in your writing. Speaking of orgasms It seems like every protagonist is a master of the multiple orgasm and the simultaneous orgasm. While women can have multiple orgasms while having sex it isnt such a common occurrence, heck many women have to learn how to even have an orgasm, certainly they wont have them with the same frequency of a miniguns rate of fire as soon as something touches their private parts for the first time in their lives. Simultaneous orgasms on the other hand are like a double rainbow, to a lot of people it wont happen in a lifetime, if it happens once every few years you can consider yourself lucky. A simultaneous orgasm after multiple orgasms? Its a double rainbow on a field of four-leaf clovers. The type of language you use will also greatly influence the scene. First of all, avoid scientific terms like penis, vagina or sternocleidomastoid. Youre not writing an andrology academic paper, those terms are just going to turn readers off and break the flow of the writing and if readers are not turned on even a bit or feel involved in the scene, its a bad sex scene. Depending on the type of scene vulgar terms can or cannot be acceptable. If youre writing about a dirty, rough BDSM scene even saying that your character slapped someone with his dick can be fine; if youre writing a more tender scene just saying something like pussy will break the flow and ruin a part of the scene, if not all. I hope this little talk will be at least a bit useful for your future writings and remember: use protection. Interview with Aucis Josh of Pendragon by Zenlith After a recent string of successful interviews at home, the higher ups at the WRITE daily handed a much harder assignment for our intrepid reporter - Zenlith. The land of Pendragon, a fascist country. An interview with a leader of Pendragon known as the Mad Purger. Every reporter had passed on this one. Zenlith accepted the assignment stoically. And what an interview it is. Full of interesting details that one could ever never expect, Zenlith captures the life in Pendragon lands better than any Writer ever before. It amazed us at the Write headquarters, so without further ado, we present it to you. Zenlith - Journeying through the Pendragon lands was a novel experience. I was flown in, with special permission from both the embassies. There was a tense moment when our visas were almost denied. But finally, we got through. I had visited these lands once before, when it was called Scribble, so I had an idea of what to expect. Unfortunately, I was proven wrong. These lands, once full of artistic and optimistic people were gone, replaced by a mass of silent and cruddy ones. The name wasnt the only thing that changed, it seemed. Concerning Aucis Josh, I knew him from before. But with that nickname now, he was a different person. I had resolved to tread carefully. After I reached the meeting point, they put the bag over my head, and led me to their capital with a jeep. It was a four hour long nauseating ride. Aucis greeted me as soon as the bag was taken off. Hullo, Zen.. He was sprawled over his throne, his red eyes focused on me. Want a puff of peace? His subordinates, or those who surrounded him at least, chatted away merrily, with no concern. The interview wasnt going to be private. No, Josh, I replied. I am here about the interview. Of course Aucis seemed unconcerned. Ask away. Gathering my courage, I asked the first question, the one that everyone demands an answer to. Aucis Josh, youre known as the demon recruiter and the purger. Why? A member of Pendragon broke in, before Josh could even utter a single word. No one calls him the demon recruiter, he calls himself that. We gave him the title Josh The Purger because he purges the chat so often. Finally he got the chance to speak for himself. I''m called the Purger because the command to delete chat is ?purge and i use it often. Causing a lot of different situations, hence the nickname. I call myself the demon recruiter because I''m able to recruit new members extremely fast and very efficiently. So how do you do that? Once more, the members spoke before he could. With his one post they chimed in. Josh gave them an annoyed stare before he himself responded. A magician never reveals his secrets... but I''m no magician, I wait until someone has interest in groups and pm them discussing groups and/or invite them to Pendragon. As you see, they join. Immediately the members around him chimed in once more. You didn''t do that for me You just let me join that''s it. Why did you choose this aggressive recruitment strategy? I''m not aggressive, I just invite and find good members. To add everything I do is allowed and in group guidelines. Why have you chosen to do it this way? I invite users and I believe them joining helps them, which it does and has. Someone else chimed in. to be honest its pretty good for helping with writing skills. With @The Yandere Darklings great teaching skills their quality goes up greatly. They also help each other by giving constructive criticism and feedback whenever another member asks. Another PenDragon member chimed in once more: also everyone is good at helping with stories overall. How do you feel about the workload of being a leader? I am currently able to handle it but without my fellow leaders it would probably burn me out a lot faster, and because of them the work is more distributed and because of that wherever they specialize making things look better and work better for the group. So which duties are the toughest? And which duties do you enjoy the most? The hardest is keeping my members in line. The part I enjoy most is the recruiting, it''s always good to see new members and the old members welcome them. At this point the the other members broke in. Hey I''m not that bad one yelled, adding Only a little. Another chimed in with a long stare. whats so hard about me? Josh addressed the two Your plans of rebellion and always making a mess in the house is hard to clean up. A third member chimed in JOSH. WHAT''S HARD ABOUT KEEPING ME IN LINE ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS KICK ME with one of the former members agreeing He does kick us a lot. Which Josh responded to with the words That is not true I''ve kicked you twice. Okay, so do you have anyone in sight for moderator position in PenDragon? Hmm, I do have a few people queued up but i''ll see how they handle things. Once more, another members chimed in. oh, that''s simple. Number 1, not being me. Number 2, not being any of the two others To which Josh responded you were actually a queued person But then I showed my true colors the member retorted. So, what qualities are you looking for in new mods? Im looking for someone skilled in leading and able to do any forum stuff needed. I also need people who are very loyal to PenDragon If you had to describe yourself with one word which would it be? And the members chimed in. a rebel two of them yelled at the same time, while a third uttered the word Revolutionist Josh took action, as the yelling from the sideline was getting out of hand. You guys are being rather rude, please be respectful of our interview. That''s your only warning.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. This seemed to quiet them down a little, if only for a moment. I''d say, Busy. I''m always working and trying to better things for my life and pendragon. Sadly i''m not that appreciated irl or here. Can you elaborate on how you''re not appreciated? At this point a couple of members chimed in once more. I appreciate you Joshua, one said while another put the appreciation in quotation marks. Irl i''m not paid that well for my job. Here on PenDragon i''m always getting a little banter over stuff yet i put a lot of work into this group. Even though i''m constantly dealing with these guys, i know they don''t mean a lot of things but it does hurt sometimes. Seeing an opening I pounced on it. So what jabs is it that hurt? The other members went wild, flinging around stories like there was this one I think I said it like this "If you add a couple letters and move some more around, Aucis becomes Autistic" and We call him 5 years old along with Josh is the type of person to sue a restaurant for giving him 19 oz of drink in a 20 oz cup and actually win the lawsuit I don''t feel any hurt from that, Josh said in response. The constant talk of rebellion and different things especially about me purging chat. I only do so because they break the rules, or some other reason bettering the chat and group, which is misinterpreted and causes a lot of problems which make me slightly upset. An awful lot of banter ensued, making it nearly impossible to conduct the interview, with questions having to be repeated. Then the chat filled up with Mutes. PenDragonMember#1 has been muted. PenDragonMember#2 has been muted. PenDragonMember#3 has been muted. Ill unmute you 3 stooges when you calm down Josh said, decisively ending the hail of remarks from the sidelines. So, let''s see where was I at. Oh yes, what drives you to be a leader despite the resistance you meet here? I know they don''t really mean rebellion. This is also my home, I have been in PenDragon so long and have been a leader for so long I would never dream of giving it up. If enough people wanted me to step down I will but until then i''ll be the best leader I can. So what does PenDragon mean to you? ok let me see PenDragon means so much to me if i ever lost it I would probably go in a very deep depression, I''ve been here so long and have put so much into it. I would probably be crying for the first time in 2 years. So where do you see PenDragon in 2 or 3 years? I see PenDragon being a major group and i have a few plans that will shoot us places Idid never dream about before Speaking of the future, lets talk about the past for a bit. So, why did you arrive at Royalroad in the first place? I first came across it while reading the LN Overlord being translated on skythewoods site, after reading i got hooked did some digging, found MLS then that lead to RRL. Did you start writing before or after this? I hated writing in school but after reading the cool stories I started getting my own ideas and i wanted them on paper (screen) so I sat down and posted my first fiction on my wordpress site. It was terrible and has been dropped for a long time. After that I started my first fic on RRl, RE:God. This is something me and Who cares? have in common, we both started with a RE story. So, you have no less than five fictions on royalroad, how many of these were after Re:God and why did you decide to start so many? They were all after Re:God. I started them because I had ideas I needed to share and have done so, sadly they aren''t that popular. Ive now only got 2 main fictions, Re:god which iver returned to after being on hiatus and a fic not yet posted called The Forgotten One (TFO). I had a main fiction for a long time called The King Of Avarice (TKA) but I couldn''t keep up with all the litrpg aspects and game system details so I have put it on hiatus after finishing book 1 and publishing it on amazon. So what made you put the books on hiatus? The 2 others, Memories in Purgatory and Metior were only one shots so they weren''t put on hiatus. I may return to them later but I have no plans to do so right now. So why did you put re:god on hiatus? It was just a joke fic and still is so I left it to focus on my main one at the time was TKA, after i put TKA on hiatus i grew attached to Re:God again and picked it back up. Very well, now I''d like to talk about some of the groups you''ve been in. You were a moderator of RRL, how did you acquire this role? They were recruiting and I always enjoyed being staff so I applied and was already friends with Wing so we talked and I got accepted. I was later demoted because we had to little work and too much staff. So, what was your experience like as a royalroad moderator? Hmm It was great, I was decently liked on the chat and dealt with many people (I banned more users than most mods do their entire time in the months I was mod) I wish I was staff still, and i might be again depending how things go. So do you have any guess why you in particular was demoted, when it may as well have been someone else? I was demoted for 2 reasons. 1. I handled certain mod things that aren''t open to the public wrong and 2. They only kept 3 mods 2 have now left and 1 is only a chat mod now. J0nn0 was a different entity and was a super mod while i was a mod. Very well, do you have any guess to as why J0nn0 became a supermod so quickly, while you remained a mod? He was doing stuff on the forums a lot longer and is far more popular than me. He was also more skilled and was a mod before me. Very well. So let''s talk about Scribble, now Pendragon. When did you join? and why? I joined 2 weeks after it was created. I was reading manics fiction at the time and saw the new group and got interested so dod some research pmed manic and joined. And what made you decide to join? The possibility to increase my quality, which it did. Also the group chat which has kept me going and in PenDragon for so long, originally we were a skype group until 3 months ago when we moved to discord. So at what point did you become a leader? and why did you decide on this? I think it was a month in after joining. Manic needed helpers and I took the job, I was the only leader after the initial creation that did most of the work so I just happened to take the main leader role. Now I have a helper @The Yandere Darkling and still await the return of the other leaders. Although @DarkGem does help and play her part in leading the group, especially helping members. So at what point was it apparent to you that you had to take over from Manic? When Manic went inactive. We were already aware he was going to be busy and offline so I just took the staff and continued doing my duties as leader. So what events goes on in this group? We have 2 major events
  1. The pictostories which all the info will be found in the pin in #pictostory
2. This is member exclusive. We hold a session every week focusing on one persons story as we all edit, comment, and give feedback on it. This can switch people as they come and go but we focus on one at a time. So starting with the pictostory, how did you decide on holding this event? So Write and PenDragon had a war. We chose a picture and wrote a short one shot on it. After the war old scribble took on that as a small competition we then left it for a short time later on when we finished moving to discord I started hosting the event. Its now grown to this size. So right now we have the reward for winning you become part of the council of five, we normally have five members but darkgem has been winning the last 4 pictostories. The last pictostories weve done darkgem has won. Because shes been winning, normally we would have like if there was someone who won, they would get to choose who they kick off the council. Otherwise Id take the one that has been there the longest, but right now because darkgems been winning and we only have 5 weve been, the next pictostory darkgem doesnt win we will have a new member in the council, but weve had the same council for the last 6 pictostories, and untill either gem stops winning or she doesnt participate were not going to have a new council member for a long time. What Josh didnt know was that after the interview I asked my sources, who indicated that darkgem may have things on her hands in the near future, so we may not have to wait so long for a new member of the pictostory council. Josh continued saying But Im urging as many skilled writers as I can to participate, we want to see quality in this competition but I also want more members and smaller writers to come in too, because without them they dont grow and they can get bigger. If they want to pick [a picture for the contest] they can pick from the log, and anyone can put any picture they want in there as long as they are not R18, I just look through them and I remove those I dont like. So lets talk about the members exclusive sessions. So how it works is, we get a volunteer or i do a random pick from any member, whoever has a fiction or is writing a fiction or has a chapter in progress we have them start writing, open a gdoc with editing rights and we all just comment on it and add what needs to be added, get them techniques, teach them how to write. It''s kinda like a huge mentoring phase, or something like that. How often do you do this? Every sunday, weve missed a few since we moved to discord, and we rarely get them on skype. On the skype we didn''t have many active members so we kinda didnt really have a chance to do them, but once we moved to discord we didnt have many people in the beginning and then after a while we had members and we held a few, but after those i had to stop doing them, and at the time yandere wasnt a leader with me, and when he became a leader as well he starting helping me do them, he held the last one when I was absent and hopefully if you can underrate Id like him to take over it. Yandere It''s kinda the members saying it and Im there. Josh: Just do it if i forget to do it. Yandere agreed to this. Thats the main reason, because Ive been busy. Josh reiterated. How will it evolve? I plan to make it more organized, for the future I hope we are able to have one volunteer and we are able to focus on them the entire time, if not we can go from person to person with more members, but it mainly comes down to me or another leader starting it, it really isn''t their job because a lot of them don''t read the rules which they need to do, but they dont do that so it''s up to us to tell them hey were doing the session today come in help your fellow members. Newspage 3rd April – 9th April 2017 Krill: Hello and welcome to Newspage, Im Krill Cookie: And Im cookie! Krill: And todays top stories are: The winner of the first WriTE Scene contest and revamp of comment subscription system. Cookie: Sounds complicated Krill: It is. Right, first, Writers To The End held their first Scene Writing Contest based on writing a fight scene and the winner is Nexus Wolf of WriTE!Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. Cookie: Yay! Krill: The full list and further details will be released in a few days but for now, join us in giving Nexus Wolf a round of applause! Cookie: Clap! Clap! Clap! Krill: The comment subscription system on RRL has been significantly overhauled, allowing for individual personalization of email or PM notifications to replies to your comments. Isnt that amazing? Cookie: Yes it is! Krill: And thats all for this week. Im Krill. Cookie: And Im cookie. Krill: And this was Newspage. Newspage Sunday April 16 2017 Krill: Hello and welcome, this is Newspage and Im your host, Krill Cookie: And Im Cookie! Krill: No particularly important news this week, in the realm of web fiction at least, but WriTEs Scene writing contest has been going strong! Cookie: Yay! Krill: The third edition is currently ongoing with the theme: Internal Monologue. Go to the WriTE discord chat for more info!Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Cookie: Or to play Dungeons and Dragons! Krill: Topwebfiction has seen a growth of RRL based fictions take over Cookie: Conquer! Krill: And the interwebs are abuzz at news of Hiveswap C the kickstarter funded video game successor to the wildly popular Homestuck comics C although it seems like the release date is still up in the air Cookie: Boo! Krill: And thats all we have for you this week, stay tuned for the winning entry from the first Scene Writing Contest! Im Krill. Cookie: And Im Cookie! Krill: And this was Newspage. And The Rain Fell On by Nexuswolf (Scene Contest Winner) As a child, Arthur always liked the rain. The rhythmic beat it struck up as it smashed against the mud, the chilly wind that accompanied it, the fine mist it formed against the ground, it was almost perfect. But at that moment, he couldnt find much pleasure in it. The sound of metal hitting metal was predominant as he clashed swords with his opponent. There was no doubt who his opponent was, clad in black with a hood and mask to hide his identity. Hashyin. Arthur spat, his sword at the ready. The man merely shifted as he slanted his sword towards Arthur menacingly. The Hashyin had been after Arthurs family from the moment he had taken on the debt from the Grandmaster. A small debt, but one he failed to repay. Yelling, Arthur dashed towards the Hashyin, his blade swinging an arc as it slashed towards his opponents neck. The man lazily parried it, delivering a sharp kick to his ribs along with it. Arthur staggered back, holding his chest. He surveyed the landscape, for any tactical advantage. There was only grass and mud in these parts, the Barren Plains. Wetted by water, it was almost futile to try and grab some up. He blinked the water out of his eyes as he glared at his opponent. He was in no shape for a battle. The night at the watering hole proved deadly now. The liquor dimmed his sight, him trying to stay awake. The Hashyin walked towards him with a leisurely gait. Arthur clutched his sword with two hands, spitting out blood. They became a blur of movement as they clashed once more, sword against sword, a competition of skill. His opponent was skilled in the art of the blade, with lithe movements that were able to thread through his defense. But Arthur was not to be toyed with either. As the heat of battle wore off the haze of the drink, he gradually regained control over his facilities. Another parry. Another slash. Arthur deftly ducked as his fist found the Hashyins chest, wincing as the thick leather armor impeded his blow. They separated once more, slowly circling each other as they pondered their next move. A blur of motion. The clear sound of a knife cutting through the air alerted Arthur as he twisted around, deflecting the projectile. Cursing at his carelessness, he quickly tried to correct himself. But he was too late, for the cold steel was already heading for his side. He tried to move, to lessen the damage. Thanking his experiences in the Knightly Order, he managed to get through with a less than deep wound his side. A sickening crunch followed as Arthur smashed his elbow against his foes head, sending him staggering. He did not press the advantage however. He had to reassess his situation. Pushing away, he observed that the Hashyin did the same. His expression grim as he explored through the thin linen, Arthur sighed in relief to feel that the cut didnt reach the bone. He considered retreating, but he knew better. If he were to do so, it was obvious who the Hashyin would go for. Roslyn. His love, his life. Even if he had to die here, he had to put an end to the Hashyin. Perhaps this was the only assassin they sent.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. The thought of her powered him as he dove forward. Arthur was a blur as he slashed and stabbed his way through the Hashyins overpowering defense. The clash of metal rang in his ears, his loves name rang in his mind. Roslyn. He remembered the first time he saw her. How she smiled at him as she served him a drink. A smile so sweet. One that he decided to protect forever. A savage roar erupted from his lips as he continued his demonic barrage, the drinks effect erased by the name that resounded through his mind like the song of a choir. He parried the Hashyins lethal strikes, planting a kick at his legs as Arthur dropped his foe to his knees. Roslyn. Her demure voice, her tender face, her azure eyes, her auburn locks, her soft skin. Everything about her. How she looked so unbelievably beautiful as she blushed after he proposed to her. The weak linen could not have been there at all as the Hashyins sword easily jabbed through his thigh, spraying blood out. Arthur bit the inside of his cheeks, unwilling to let the pain take over. This was his chance. He raised his blade, to take the Hashyins head off. To save his love. His innumerable drunken episodes. How he slapped her and hit her in fits of drunkenness. His eventual dismissal from the Knightly Order. How her shocked face had simply angered him as he struck at her. How even after all that, she stayed with him, when he begged her. Begged for her forgiveness. The Hashyins fist jabbed forward, landing a strike at Arthurs neck. He managed to draw back his neck just in time, but the blow struck, sending him into a coughing fit. The assassin got to his feet, shooting towards him with blinding speeds. Arthur managed to put his discomfort away as he clumsily parried the blade. He knew his death was inevitable. So he resolved himself to drag his opponent down with him to hell. He roared with all his soul, his determination burning to the forefront. His blade sliced through the air, steel shining under the wisps of moonlight that filtered through the dark clouds. The raindrops that clattered against the steel struck up an ethereal symphony, a melody only he could hear. And he slashed at his neck. With a deft move, the Hashyin clipped the blade under the hilt and sent it flying through the air. He turned and elbowed Arthur beneath the diaphragm, knocking the air out of him. Without a moments hesitation, the Hashyin expertly stabbed Arthur through the heart. The blade felt cold as it slid through him with a sickening squelch. He gasped, clots of blood flying out of his mouth. The pain was slow in the coming, yet it made up its delay with excessive intensity. It threatened to make him unconscious, to relieve him of his agony. But he wouldnt let go. Their presence bound him to the land, a lynchpin that he did not wish to remove. Unable to bear the pain that tormented him, he moved forward, moving farther up the blood. The silver stained red as it emerged out of his back. With a final yell of determination, his hands were like claws as he sought his foes neck. But he was too far away. His vision was already dimming. He made one more swipe, his last one, with whatever strength he had left. Only to manage to rip off his hood. The happiness on her face when she was declared carrying a life. The tears of joy that gushed out of her eyes as she broke down, bawling in his arms. How she had declared so jovially to him, teary-eyed, Youre a father, Arthur!. The tears she shed that day seemed so radically different from the tears she shed now. Surprise blinded Arthur as he realized that his life, Roslyn was standing before him, tear stained, with a blade through his chest. Ros-Roslyn? He managed to croak. Without a word, she kicked him as she slid her sword out of his chest. Collapsing, he gasped as blood streamed out of him. Wh-why?. She was already leaving, but stopped. With venomous spite, she uttered words that were like a white-hot whip to Arthur. You murdered my child. Unbidden, memories rushed into his head. A drunken stupor. A misplaced hit. She walked away, letting him bleed out onto the mud. And the rain fell on. Newspage 15 to 22 May 2017 Krill: Welcome back everyone, my name is Krill. Cookie: And Im cookie! Krill: And weve been away for a while but who cares, all that matters is the news for last week! Cookie: We were busy and there wasnt a lot of news so we were bored. Krill: Cookie? Cookie: Yes?If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Krill: Did you just C Cookie: Yes! Krill: Alright then, todays headlines: the return of Write Way Magazine, and a status page for development and stuff on RRl (link in bottom notes) Cookie: Yay! Krill: First up, Write Way Magazine makes its return after a long hiatus. Nobody is sure exactly why the worlds most popular online fiction magazine suddenly stopped circulating, but the editor and staff declined to comment when approached by our intrepid reporter. Cookie: That was me! Krill: Next, a status page was setup to assist in the development of RRl. Cookie: Neat Krill: Thats all we have for today, tune in next time for more news and articles and things. For now, Im Krill. Cookie: And Im Cookie. Krill: And this was Newspage.