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Sugar Run; For Kess!
Topic Started: Mar 25 2015, 01:01 PM (200 Views)
SemperMemor
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Majestic Space Duck
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"C'mon, Pancake!"

The small puppy yipped in the field behind him. A golden jumble of gangly legs and lolling tongue surged in the brittle grass, though only the top of his head and wild, flopping ears were visible from Gus' position along the dirt path. The boy tucked his parcel underneath his left arm and quickly dug his free hand deep into his apron pocket. Pudgy fingers fished around for a moment before pulling out a clenched fist. His smile broadened as the retriever burst from the tall foliage, headed straight for him. Pancake barked again, tail wagging to beat the band, and hounded in him tight, excited circles.

"What a good boy! Here you go, buddy," Gus chuckled. He lowered his fist and uncurled his fingers to let the puppy have his treat. The small bits of finely chopped steak immediately disappeared down Pancake's jaws. His tongue lingered, however, giving the boy's hand a thorough cleaning as if he hoped to find extra treats hidden between the creases of his fingers. Gus ruffled the dog's head after a few moments of fervent licking. "Good boy! Now come on, we're running behind," he continued, standing up again. Gus turned back to the road and began to quicken his pace. His puppy scrambled into a cajoling, awkward run after him.

With a skip in his step, the baker's son quickly resumed his path. It was not often that he personally delivered goods, especially outside of the Walls, but he assured his mother that it was good business. Exercise would do him good, too, she relented. He cast a brief look over his shoulder to see the limestone city rise up out of the distant jungle. How long had they been walking? Thirty minutes? Forty-five? An hour? He...couldn't quite recall. It didn't matter, though. He had his dog, and that was all the company he needed on the afternoon journey. The path underfoot was beginning to change from the gentle thud of worn earth to the crunch of loose gravel. Up ahead, beyond the rolling fields, the busy quarry community sent up occasional puffs of rock dust and fine, earthy loam. They were not far now!

A tugging sensation tore the boy from his thoughts. He whipped around too late, confused, to see his puppy rear back with the parcel of sweet buns clamped between his strong jaws. He scooted back before anything could be done about it and dove to the side, well out of Gus' reach.

"Oh no! No, Pancake!" he cried. He lunged in vain, only managing to trip himself in the process. The boy flopped to the ground with a hard thud, desperately trying to reach his nefarious dog. "Those aren't for puppies! Those are for the customer!"

Gus' shoulders deflated, but, given the boy's obscene resting level of hope, it wasn't a terribly dramatic change. He reached into the dirtied apron for a treat and held it out to Pancake. He wiggled it, smiling brightly. The dog immediately bounced forward, dropping the package, but he was too slow to realize his error. Gus grabbed hold of the puppy and began to roll with him down the hillside. The parcel was torn open in the process; bright white confectioner's sugar puffed into the gentle wind and dusted both boy and canine with fine granules. A trail of dusty powder streaked the grassy hillside in their wake. They yipped and laughed all the way down to the bottom. Pancake wiggled free of his human's bearhug and waddled around, excitedly licking the boy's beet-red cheeks clean of sugar.

Gus managed to shove him aside and stand up after succumbing to a fit of belly-laughter. "You silly puppy!" he exclaimed, waggling a finger at the retriever. He bent down and picked up the shredded parcel with another hand. He showed it to the dog, as if he clearly understood the meaning. "You are supposed to bring me things, not take them away! We can't give these to the customer now." He turned it over to inspect for himself. It was squished and beyond acceptable presentation...which only left one thing for them to do to. Gus carefully tore the rest of the package open, took out a sweet bun, and stuffed it in his own mouth. No sense in letting them go to waste! They surely tasted good. Oh well.

He munched on it for a few moments before looking down at Pancake again. A faint, pitiful whine tipped him off. The puppy stared up at him with pleading eyes, his back end desperately wiggling in a rather decent attempt of a sitting command. Gus beamed and took out another bun. He hadn't asked Pancake to sit, but he was doing an awfully good job at it. At least, he liked to think so. "That's it!" he cried, and tossed the dog a bun as a reward.


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CloakAndDagger
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THE DUNGEON MASTER
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Look what you’ve done to me. Lenore cried from the depths of the night.

The words slipped from the dragon’s mouth like fog -- a fabricated ghost. The voice and the words were hers, but not hers. An echo could not be original and this was. She reclined like an old panther in the fuming, nearly living volumes of her vapor, wishing something would call back. There were ghosts here. She was proof enough of that. But it was never the right ghost.


The wind in the mountains had surged recently. Spring was beginning to sweep away the great, white winter cloak that had fallen heavily over the continent, but some parts of the world would always be resistant. The ghost, a dark figure against the wash of crisp cathedral spires, gripped the hard edge of her sheer cliff lair. The wolfen air howled and sent her vapor spiraling into the daylight. She, however, unmoved by what she, herself, could not move anyway, cast off with it and followed in the rambling footsteps of her cousin element. She twisted and turned and rolled like a gathering of leaves knit closely together with spider silk. Flying, a young voice grinned from her unmoving mouth. She cackled. Lenore would have loved this. Might as well live it for her -- voice and all.

But there was so much to be done. And far to go.

The spark of life in her had quickened from the icy magic of her successful suitor. Now, it sat salivating at the back of her mouth, but hunting so much and so often around her home would bring more trouble than it was worth. Half the fun of being a ghost was the mystery. Instead, she’d decided to sail for warmer climates and invade someone else’s microcasm. She concerned herself with her own local ecological economy well enough, but, when it came to someone elses land? Well, that was someone elses problem. And she loved bringing problems. That also tended to be another fun part about being a ghost.

Ruins -- ruining everything. HA!


Early spring was a dreadful time to go out hunting. Everyone and everything was either making babies or having them, and, by luck or obstinate neighbors, the amorous couples seemed to be keeping to their proverbial ‘rooms.’ Hither and yon, the fields were frolicked and then subsequently evacuated for lovemaking. Geist, being a strange and ominous shadow in the sunlight, saw her arrival being hotly and fearfully anticipated by prey as they evaporated from the clearings and watering holes. She, in turn, stalked them home and simply sent her vaporous mouth in uninvited. It was a simple and mutually beneficial method. They didn’t even have to dig their own graves -- they died already buried.
The Sekkian Nyushi however, was a more interesting area to traverse. She hadn’t been around for some time and was finding much of the area slowly built up as field to town, or towns to cities, but the jungle was a vast and varied area. It promised a more elusive seclusion that a ghost could find irresistible.

The old creature was standing in the canopy shadow as she had lunch. She spread herself and lovingly kneaded the soft ground with her long toes as her vaporous volume dove into a trio of young, doornail-dead kirins. Her caustic elements burned and seared and bubbled them and she, eating for two now, inhaled with a deep hiss to finally taste some satisfaction. She was old and hungry. They were dead and not able to have second thoughts about being eaten, so it didn’t take long to strip them of fat and flesh. Her dark tongue ran along her useless oni teeth. Ah, well… just what the child wanted, but there was something about red meat that just left her hungrier. Good, but never good enough… but what was, really? Tiptoeing, she eased towards to peeking white of the bones and went to unearth the marrow with a snap.

With a snap, her marble mask looked up and around. Something in the back of her head was tingling, and it wasn’t an oncoming stroke. Sugar. Somehow, somewhere, there was an unprotected pastry or candy left out and lonely. Lonely meant ripe for the taking. And she didn’t care if she had to pull the sucker out of some other sucker’s mouth. She was going to have it.

Kirin bones forgotten, the revenant followed her saccharine sense. And, well, ah… What does a wolf say when he’s found a red-hooded maiden with a basket? (Especially when he’s more interested in the basket.)

A long dark shadow slid from the heavy treeline like a fox pressing itself to the hunt. Her mask, as it eased out into the warm daylight, seemed to take on a particularly vulpine curve. And she, a ghost in broad daylight, slipped along the hills to walk freely in a land of enemies. Danger was a bygone consideration. There was only one thing on her mind, sugar -- that, and the catchy theme song rolling around in the back of her head to accurately intensify the situation. Dangerzone. Dangerzone and sugar.


“My, my,” the matronly voice cooed darkly as she fogged behind Gustav and his dog. She came in like a storm cloud to curtly wink out the sun at the beach. Her eyes, one by one, looked up and down the jolly, cherub cheeked kid before honing in on the ripped package. “My, what sweet buns you have, little boy.”

Geist saw the crumbs covering him and the retriever. “I see we have the same idea.”
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