LosslessThe room was dark, smooth stone bricks created a semi circle shape. It was lit only by the crack under the cast iron door. Water leaked from holes between bricks. It made him sick. Looking at her in the din, his gorge rose. His fault, him, guilty.Lossless by liesofmisery
“Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine. Just fine, both of you. Like I said you would.” Her voice was light. Resigned and detached, like Doc said she was when he had spoken to her. Steel chains, slightly rusted and weighted down, looped around her wrists, torso, and ankles, chaffing and rubbing the flesh it rested on raw. The links around her wrists had smears of blood dotting them.
Cold seeped into his knees and feet as they pressed against damp stone to keep eye level with her. His pleading was for naught, she was perfectly consigned to her fate. The spit ball of fire was far from the fighter he knew her to be, and he didn’t think he could be one for her.
The Discordian Wasteland‘In the times before the wars, the world was vastly different. Animals, even humans, got along well. Starvation, disease, and radioactivity were vastly limited, the latter almost non existent save for a few selective places. But even those were from a time before their own. Plant life was bursting, and far from the deadly acres that exist today.The Discordian Wasteland by liesofmisery
The people of that time dedicated generations worth of work to advance technology and medicine. What would appear to be the start of the descent into chaos was the development of wartime technology, a practice abandoned for a large sum of time. The people of that time, in a place once called Cambodia, had started mass producing nuclear warheads with enough strength to wipe out countries.
The Discord Wars, as they came to be called, were violent, brilliantly petrifying, and the shortest war our records show in that of history.’
He set his pen, a crude instrument with a cracked plastic barrel and leaking end, down. Running a hand over
|Art...if you can call it that.|
Angel Code: chpt1CHAPTER IAngel Code: chpt1 by akarui
It was a calm, autumn morning in Vernos, the Hunter tribe of the East. The leaves were beginning to fall to the brown and gold earth, littering the forest floor and making the trees and ground look on fire with their bright and warm colors. The village strategically sat a few miles from the big city of Kartha, and was only a very short distance from numerous streams, which provided the small village of demon slayers with an adequate supply of water.
Being a Hunter meant being a hunter of flesh demons, also known as Trei'oche. One's duties in the tribe could be many and various, but everyone had a job to perform and they were expected to do that duty with honor, pride, and a sense of excellence. Most the duties of the women consisted of cooking, cleaning, and education, but there were a good number of demon slayers in the tribe that were females and were just as good as the male Hunters.
The children learned from a young age how to kill a flesh demon; they were taught