Sophia Garcia
Stories
8
Chapters
3,710
Words
2.7 M
Comments
0
Reading
9 d, 5 h
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The room was that of an old but very large and neatly kept cabin. The banner of a red hand hung down on poorly knitted fabric overhead, and various people wearing that same symbol on their clothes lined the room on armchairs, sofas, or just stood. Hakim was in the middle of it, handcuffed and on his knees. He grunted with the impact of a fist on his face, spitting blood and a tooth out while Juile loudly sobbed behind him. “WE DON’T HAVE THE DAMN TREASURE!” Julie screamed through tears as Hakim was…
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Kathrine nervously fumbled with the locket of her family’s crest around her neck. Glancing nervously over to the high prince next to her as the array began to buffer, she caught his gaze and received a wide smile. “What’s wrong?” Riven asked curiously, tilting his head to one side. “You look nervous. Surely the queen isn’t that bad.” Kathrine would have paled if she wasn’t already so given her vampiric heritage, and her crimson eyes shifted away. She brought a handful of pristine, silky…
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The hospital entrance that’d once been a small hole into the basement was now dug out and fully cleaned. The corpses that’d long since rotted away there from swarming nightmare creatures were long gone, and in place of them were stalls of ratkin and citizens of Brightsville alike while they traded with one another at the mouth into the underdark. Guard patrols from Deepnest and the Thane Necropolis were both present, taking turns escorting people to and from the two cities in caravans where the trips…
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Trees cast shadows on their cabin. The sounds of the campfire crackling under the night sky grew louder as Julie added a handful of dry twigs. The young redheaded woman gave Hakim a wide smile, sitting down next to him as he roasted marshmallows over an open fire and kissing him on the cheek. “You look unusually happy tonight.” Julie said while wrapping her arms around his waist in the warm forest breeze. She glanced over to her mother Tanya, and her brother Tim who’d managed to regrow his lost limb…
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The conversation lasted a little longer, but not too long. Fimrindle had an obvious aversion to speaking, and it almost seemed like it pained him to do it. However Riven did get a lot of valuable information out of the scarecrow concerning his cultivation path revolving around the sin of Gluttony - which was a bit odd considering the demon didn’t have a sin shard himself. The next and last demon he approached was Rheufa Chak Tal, the Thousand-Eyes Beholder, and the demon’s realm was far more vast than…
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The rest of the time spent with Yattazi was very refreshing - though she did end up reverting back to her normal size after Athela kept pestering her about how her smaller form looked. Despite what and who she was, Yattazi had a very warm personality. She was easy to get along with and eager to please, but When discussing combat power, it appeared that she was heavily focused on close combat and body enhancements. Most of her abilities and insights were focused on making her physical body more powerful…
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A child of the Scythe, and a botched creation cursed by madmen. That is who and what Frimrindle truly was. The stick-thin scarecrow made of metal hung on a cross of his own making. It remained absolutely still, just as it had done for the past many millenia - not moving a single millimeter while contemplating the mysteries of life. In his left hand, an unlit steel lantern hung loosely at his side. In his right hand, a simple scythe was held - showing now markings or any semblance of just how powerful the…
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Riven lifted Jackal up to bear, noting vampiric healers on the side specializing in blood magic waiting hesitantly for the fight to start. The room was dead quiet after the captain’s announcement that he was going to trounce the prince, and uncomfortable shifty gazes were exchanged between many of the soldiers despite Riven taking it in stride. “Don’t mind them, come at me with everything you’ve got.” Riven said with a serious nod, taking off his shirt to match the captain and getting a whistle…
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General Viku had been right. Riven’s mirage body stood on the bridge, with a large glass half-dome in front of him. It gave a large view of the planet, the warp gate, numerous fleets of merchant vessels from different parts of the multiverse, and the space station. That cube-shaped space station was the most eye-catching sight. It was the size of a small moon, about a 50th the size of the planet below - which in turn was absolutely enormous. It was layered with dozens of enormous many-mile wide docking…
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A pale, thickly built man stood on the main command deck of an enclosed flagship owned by House Wraithtide of the Blood Moon Requiem. His body was covered in heavy plate armor, decorated with seals and ornaments displaying his rank - with the sigil of his house etched into the center of his breastplate: an orb wreathed in deathly flame. It was smaller than the Blood Moon Requiem’s own sigil and was displayed below it, subservient to the empire’s own crest, but nevertheless it distinguished which house…
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