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Written by rsavage in portal Fiction

Women of Seals - Women at Sea

We wake as drifters. The women of seals are broken. Upon this boat, we are delirious and scattered. Arms fall down like David’s Marat had intended. They hang without balance, or without anything for that matter. Some hands are stubborn and refuse to let go of the bottles that gave them the courage to forget the night before. The nightmare of the seals has left a shrillness in their ears and these now empty bottles are what remains of a plea to medicate. Some hands hold nothing. They are limp, with nothing but a sense of the spiritless. Grey like the sky on day thirty-one, this crew of the listless appears damned.

Soaked through I am lying down on this deck. My face to the side allows my ear to hear the water graze the boat. I am content to be here and feel like I am further from fact. Where are the seals now? For many months we have sailed across the ocean without aim. The women of souls have only their imagination.

So we won’t get up.

Not just yet…

Part 3 "Women Rise" on savageprop.com

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Written by rsavage in portal Fiction
Women of Seals - Women at Sea
We wake as drifters. The women of seals are broken. Upon this boat, we are delirious and scattered. Arms fall down like David’s Marat had intended. They hang without balance, or without anything for that matter. Some hands are stubborn and refuse to let go of the bottles that gave them the courage to forget the night before. The nightmare of the seals has left a shrillness in their ears and these now empty bottles are what remains of a plea to medicate. Some hands hold nothing. They are limp, with nothing but a sense of the spiritless. Grey like the sky on day thirty-one, this crew of the listless appears damned.

Soaked through I am lying down on this deck. My face to the side allows my ear to hear the water graze the boat. I am content to be here and feel like I am further from fact. Where are the seals now? For many months we have sailed across the ocean without aim. The women of souls have only their imagination.
So we won’t get up.

Not just yet…
Part 3 "Women Rise" on savageprop.com

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Written by FerrumDraco in portal Fiction

The Recollection of the Life of a Guilty Shade

     I stand by the river Lethe, staring at its slow gait. It reminds me of the time I tried to make a fishing boat as a boy and attempted  to sail it on the river at home. The boat sank within five minutes. I was sent to bed and wasn't allowed to have dinner that night, my father was so angry. I laugh a little at the memory but my faint smile soon dies.

     They say I can start a new life if I forget my old one; All I have to do is walk through the water.

     No, I think as I bitterly recall the rest of my life.

     Never again.

     They said I was a hero.That I died honorably in a fight for my homeland, Greece. They were wrong. I did not die honorably. I went to war for a selfish king who held a grudge against a foreign ruler. I left and forgot those who mattered to me the most as soon I returned a hero and experienced the 'glory'. I saw the starving beg for food with their children crying in their arms. I saw families mourn their lost brothers, sons, fathers, grandfathers. I watched as slaves were whipped for not moving their emaciated bodies quickly and quietly enough for the overseers' liking; and I did nothing. But what did that matter to the people? 

     I was seen as a hero for killing the loved ones of other families. By murdering men young and old who may or may not have had a choice to join the army. By seeing myself as above those who would work in excruciating pain for long hours for the little money that would get them stale, moldy bread to eat for dinner. I was seen as a hero for acting as if I did not get nightmares from the war. For acting as if I had no admiration for anyone but the gods and the king. I was seen as a hero for carrying a gleaming sword at my side. For the armor that protected me during battle. For the men that were brought back as slaves. For the skins of the lions I wrestled in my spare time for the attention. 

     They had forgotten that I was once a poor boy, the son of a fisherman. That I was drafted at the beginning of the war, given a sword and too-large armor, and shoved into battle. The people had forgotten...so had I.

     Even those lions had family. Just like the lions, the defeated men were taken from their homes and held in cages, waiting to be sold or released to kill each other in an arena. And what did I do? Nothing!

     I died in another war at a young age and sent to Elysium for my 'honorable death'. I am now given a chance to forget my wrongdoings forever and start a new life without the guilt that I feel now. But no, never again. Never again will I forget those I love, nor those who loved me. I refuse to forget the faces of those who were in agony while watching as I stood on a golden, silk cushioned pedestal eating ripe grapes and drinking high quality wine.

     I know that if I go back, I will love and be loved again...and make the same selfish mistakes.

     I would rather suffer in the Fields of Punishment for eternity than make another suffer for the likes of me again. I will live, or rather exist as a ghost, with my guilt forever as penance.

     I wipe away tears and turn to the lord of the Underworld who brought me to this place and the tempting possibility that it presented.

     "Take me back, Hades." I reply wearily to his unasked question, "I have made my decision."

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Written by FerrumDraco in portal Fiction
The Recollection of the Life of a Guilty Shade
     I stand by the river Lethe, staring at its slow gait. It reminds me of the time I tried to make a fishing boat as a boy and attempted  to sail it on the river at home. The boat sank within five minutes. I was sent to bed and wasn't allowed to have dinner that night, my father was so angry. I laugh a little at the memory but my faint smile soon dies.
     They say I can start a new life if I forget my old one; All I have to do is walk through the water.
     No, I think as I bitterly recall the rest of my life.
     Never again.
     They said I was a hero.That I died honorably in a fight for my homeland, Greece. They were wrong. I did not die honorably. I went to war for a selfish king who held a grudge against a foreign ruler. I left and forgot those who mattered to me the most as soon I returned a hero and experienced the 'glory'. I saw the starving beg for food with their children crying in their arms. I saw families mourn their lost brothers, sons, fathers, grandfathers. I watched as slaves were whipped for not moving their emaciated bodies quickly and quietly enough for the overseers' liking; and I did nothing. But what did that matter to the people? 
     I was seen as a hero for killing the loved ones of other families. By murdering men young and old who may or may not have had a choice to join the army. By seeing myself as above those who would work in excruciating pain for long hours for the little money that would get them stale, moldy bread to eat for dinner. I was seen as a hero for acting as if I did not get nightmares from the war. For acting as if I had no admiration for anyone but the gods and the king. I was seen as a hero for carrying a gleaming sword at my side. For the armor that protected me during battle. For the men that were brought back as slaves. For the skins of the lions I wrestled in my spare time for the attention. 
     They had forgotten that I was once a poor boy, the son of a fisherman. That I was drafted at the beginning of the war, given a sword and too-large armor, and shoved into battle. The people had forgotten...so had I.
     Even those lions had family. Just like the lions, the defeated men were taken from their homes and held in cages, waiting to be sold or released to kill each other in an arena. And what did I do? Nothing!
     I died in another war at a young age and sent to Elysium for my 'honorable death'. I am now given a chance to forget my wrongdoings forever and start a new life without the guilt that I feel now. But no, never again. Never again will I forget those I love, nor those who loved me. I refuse to forget the faces of those who were in agony while watching as I stood on a golden, silk cushioned pedestal eating ripe grapes and drinking high quality wine.
     I know that if I go back, I will love and be loved again...and make the same selfish mistakes.
     I would rather suffer in the Fields of Punishment for eternity than make another suffer for the likes of me again. I will live, or rather exist as a ghost, with my guilt forever as penance.
     I wipe away tears and turn to the lord of the Underworld who brought me to this place and the tempting possibility that it presented.
     "Take me back, Hades." I reply wearily to his unasked question, "I have made my decision."
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Part 6 Final scene! It seems we have come to the end of the road....however, if enough show interest I will continue...so keep that in mind when you are writing the gripping end! I would like to feel the gamut of emotion in this write. Make me laugh, and cry and get angry all in the last few paragraphs. Thank you all for participating! This has been great fun! It's been so fun...you get 400 words to wow me in your ending! One stipulation...that is also the minimum word limit as well!
Written by Harry_Situation in portal Fiction

The Old Master Part 8

Inside his hut the demon sorcerer brewed another hot, bubbling cauldron. One smell from the toxic fumes informed him of the perfection of the fresh brew. Just as he was about to take a cupful of poisoned liquid, he heard a knock outside his door. Interrupted during his morning tea yet again.

"Enter." Legion bellowed. 

"Legion, old friend!" Lu said as he stepped through the door.

"My lord," His loyal adviser said with a bow. "How may I be of service?"

"You can give yourself a pat on the back for starters." The devil boasted. "Rosie got her essay back. A+, gold star, and everything - and she said it was all thanks to you. I'll admit I was a little jealous that she didn't pick me to help her out."

"With all do respect, my lord. You don't have much knowledge to botany."

"What are you talking about?" Lu asked. "Oh, she didn't tell you. You might want to read this then."

Confused, Legion took the short essay from his king's hand and read it. He, the all powerful, the all knowing, the wise master of the dark arts, was deceived by a human child. What he read was certainly not about biology or plants, but what he read was enough to craft a smile beneath his tattered scarf.

                                        Who I Find The Most Interesting

                                                By Rosemary Gravely

There sure are a ton of interesting people in the world that it's hard to choose one that interests me the most. And if you've met my stepfather and some of his employees, interesting is just one word to describe them all. But I think the one that stands out the most to me would be my stepfather's adviser, Legion. Legion serves as the royal adviser for my father, making sure he doesn't go through with whatever dumb scheme he cooked up. He's also a part time scientist and teacher. Don't make him angry because he can even kick some serious ass. He's like Gandalf, Yoda, and Mr. Miyagi all in one. When I first met him I really didn't know what to think of him. I mean he's pretty creepy looking, he comes off as kinda crude with his brutal honesty, and he can be kinda boring at times. But sometimes you gotta look past what you think is scary and hideous in order to see the true beauty within. 

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Part 6 Final scene! It seems we have come to the end of the road....however, if enough show interest I will continue...so keep that in mind when you are writing the gripping end! I would like to feel the gamut of emotion in this write. Make me laugh, and cry and get angry all in the last few paragraphs. Thank you all for participating! This has been great fun! It's been so fun...you get 400 words to wow me in your ending! One stipulation...that is also the minimum word limit as well!
Written by Harry_Situation in portal Fiction
The Old Master Part 8
Inside his hut the demon sorcerer brewed another hot, bubbling cauldron. One smell from the toxic fumes informed him of the perfection of the fresh brew. Just as he was about to take a cupful of poisoned liquid, he heard a knock outside his door. Interrupted during his morning tea yet again.

"Enter." Legion bellowed. 

"Legion, old friend!" Lu said as he stepped through the door.

"My lord," His loyal adviser said with a bow. "How may I be of service?"

"You can give yourself a pat on the back for starters." The devil boasted. "Rosie got her essay back. A+, gold star, and everything - and she said it was all thanks to you. I'll admit I was a little jealous that she didn't pick me to help her out."

"With all do respect, my lord. You don't have much knowledge to botany."

"What are you talking about?" Lu asked. "Oh, she didn't tell you. You might want to read this then."

Confused, Legion took the short essay from his king's hand and read it. He, the all powerful, the all knowing, the wise master of the dark arts, was deceived by a human child. What he read was certainly not about biology or plants, but what he read was enough to craft a smile beneath his tattered scarf.



                                        Who I Find The Most Interesting

                                                By Rosemary Gravely

There sure are a ton of interesting people in the world that it's hard to choose one that interests me the most. And if you've met my stepfather and some of his employees, interesting is just one word to describe them all. But I think the one that stands out the most to me would be my stepfather's adviser, Legion. Legion serves as the royal adviser for my father, making sure he doesn't go through with whatever dumb scheme he cooked up. He's also a part time scientist and teacher. Don't make him angry because he can even kick some serious ass. He's like Gandalf, Yoda, and Mr. Miyagi all in one. When I first met him I really didn't know what to think of him. I mean he's pretty creepy looking, he comes off as kinda crude with his brutal honesty, and he can be kinda boring at times. But sometimes you gotta look past what you think is scary and hideous in order to see the true beauty within. 
#fantasy  #fiction  #horror  #comedy  #sinsofthefather 
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You have a few days left to live. Only you know this. You are able to leave behind a note, letter, story or poem. It can be about anything you wish. Show us what you write. (Feel free to tag me. And by all means, don't feel that you're constrained to write something sad)
Written by EstherFlowers1 in portal Fiction

To the love of my life

Tell the kids they can use my old paint. Don't forget to feed the cats. If you need to do a load of washing, the detergent port is labelled, just throw the clothes in, turn the dial to "regular" and press "start."

Dispose of my remains in the cheapest way possible. No services or hospitals. Don't be pretentious; I only really matter to you.

PS: eat after reading. I don't want anything to be taken down as my last words.

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You have a few days left to live. Only you know this. You are able to leave behind a note, letter, story or poem. It can be about anything you wish. Show us what you write. (Feel free to tag me. And by all means, don't feel that you're constrained to write something sad)
Written by EstherFlowers1 in portal Fiction
To the love of my life
Tell the kids they can use my old paint. Don't forget to feed the cats. If you need to do a load of washing, the detergent port is labelled, just throw the clothes in, turn the dial to "regular" and press "start."
Dispose of my remains in the cheapest way possible. No services or hospitals. Don't be pretentious; I only really matter to you.
PS: eat after reading. I don't want anything to be taken down as my last words.
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Pick your favorite line from a song or work of fiction. Use that as the title for an original piece of poetry or prose. tag me!
Written by sandflea68 in portal Fiction

Tapestry

“I want to know you moved and breathed in the same world as me.” F. Scott Fitzgerald

You are the space betwixt

my skin and my heart -

more than a beloved

manuscript on pages,

a borrowed entity

for a brief moment

of gilded time,

the rise and fall

of my chest as

I breathe your essence,

a patch of love

silhouetted against

the midnight sky,

succulent juices, dripping

on my tongue,

gentleness soothing

my sobbing soul,

secret summer days

in sunshine of you,

resounding poetry

sparkling in your eyes,

fragility among

hard bitter surfaces,

as you touch me

while we are

standing apart ,

wings exploring

our world,

tapestry of us

braided together

becoming one.

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Pick your favorite line from a song or work of fiction. Use that as the title for an original piece of poetry or prose. tag me!
Written by sandflea68 in portal Fiction
Tapestry
“I want to know you moved and breathed in the same world as me.” F. Scott Fitzgerald

You are the space betwixt
my skin and my heart -
more than a beloved
manuscript on pages,
a borrowed entity
for a brief moment
of gilded time,
the rise and fall
of my chest as
I breathe your essence,
a patch of love
silhouetted against
the midnight sky,
succulent juices, dripping
on my tongue,
gentleness soothing
my sobbing soul,
secret summer days
in sunshine of you,
resounding poetry
sparkling in your eyes,
fragility among
hard bitter surfaces,
as you touch me
while we are
standing apart ,
wings exploring
our world,
tapestry of us
braided together
becoming one.

#challenge  #PoemBasedOnLinefromFScottFitzgerald 
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Pick your favorite line from a song or work of fiction. Use that as the title for an original piece of poetry or prose. tag me!
Written by NyxNight in portal Fiction

I can take on so much more than I had ever dreamed

Weak little girl,

Silence stabs at pain,

Beat to the ground,

Stay quiet and stay down,

They won't care anyway.

Small, delicate angel,

Couldn't wound no one,

Fragile flower; little sun,

But stars burn when they want to hurt,

When they see the light.

A caged bird has no wings,

But everyone can see some way,

By sight; by sound; by touch,

I finally learnt to fly,

I finally learnt to shine.

I stood from the ground,

Kicked through the brick,

Let the light back in,

Saw that I was strong,

Know I can take the weight on.

//Line from the song invincible by Kelly Clarkson\\

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Pick your favorite line from a song or work of fiction. Use that as the title for an original piece of poetry or prose. tag me!
Written by NyxNight in portal Fiction
I can take on so much more than I had ever dreamed
Weak little girl,
Silence stabs at pain,
Beat to the ground,
Stay quiet and stay down,
They won't care anyway.

Small, delicate angel,
Couldn't wound no one,
Fragile flower; little sun,
But stars burn when they want to hurt,
When they see the light.

A caged bird has no wings,
But everyone can see some way,
By sight; by sound; by touch,
I finally learnt to fly,
I finally learnt to shine.

I stood from the ground,
Kicked through the brick,
Let the light back in,
Saw that I was strong,
Know I can take the weight on.


//Line from the song invincible by Kelly Clarkson\\
#fiction  #poetry  #lyrics 
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Written by apromptaday in portal Fiction

Fun & Flames

I think that you're hot -

But baby you're a mess

So I'll leave you suffocating

Till you call out in distress

You thought I brought the flame

But where there's flame there's smoke

The problem with heartbreakers

Is we'll screw you like a joke

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Written by apromptaday in portal Fiction
Fun & Flames
I think that you're hot -
But baby you're a mess
So I'll leave you suffocating
Till you call out in distress
You thought I brought the flame
But where there's flame there's smoke
The problem with heartbreakers
Is we'll screw you like a joke


#nonfiction 
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Written by rsavage in portal Fiction

The Tale of Little Fists

There once was a little man with orange hands. The hands were his trademark and the proud instrument of his punctuation. He even liked to boast, that he had demanded to be let out of his mother’s womb. And unlike images of this sacred space, where life exists in peace, surrounded by colours of softness, Little Fists would claim an entirely different tale. The womb was a bright, ambered orange and him, the saviour in the making, could not wait. His tiny, little fists had thumped against the embryonic wall, so that even the nurses in that room, where his ancestors had all been released and fed, had seen the imprints pushing through. Or so he says….

In his quest to share his resourceful, eminent wisdom, he strikes a deal with an outsider. Someone who has  much to lose, but will be the first to witness the elegance of this repulsive, yet charming challenge.

Orange fists are Little Fists and this is the Tale of Little Fists.

All parts of this series can be found under the category, Orange Fists on savageprop.com

PART 1 – The Tale of Little Fists

2 – A Fist Full of Oranges

3 – This Might will be heard.

4 – Little Fists Little Fit

5 – Haus of Feist

6 -A musical Interval brought to you by the colour orange.

7 -Fists of the Orange Dawn

8- Orange you glad to see me?

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Written by rsavage in portal Fiction
The Tale of Little Fists
There once was a little man with orange hands. The hands were his trademark and the proud instrument of his punctuation. He even liked to boast, that he had demanded to be let out of his mother’s womb. And unlike images of this sacred space, where life exists in peace, surrounded by colours of softness, Little Fists would claim an entirely different tale. The womb was a bright, ambered orange and him, the saviour in the making, could not wait. His tiny, little fists had thumped against the embryonic wall, so that even the nurses in that room, where his ancestors had all been released and fed, had seen the imprints pushing through. Or so he says….

In his quest to share his resourceful, eminent wisdom, he strikes a deal with an outsider. Someone who has  much to lose, but will be the first to witness the elegance of this repulsive, yet charming challenge.
Orange fists are Little Fists and this is the Tale of Little Fists.

All parts of this series can be found under the category, Orange Fists on savageprop.com

PART 1 – The Tale of Little Fists

2 – A Fist Full of Oranges

3 – This Might will be heard.

4 – Little Fists Little Fit

5 – Haus of Feist

6 -A musical Interval brought to you by the colour orange.

7 -Fists of the Orange Dawn

8- Orange you glad to see me?
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You have a few days left to live. Only you know this. You are able to leave behind a note, letter, story or poem. It can be about anything you wish. Show us what you write. (Feel free to tag me. And by all means, don't feel that you're constrained to write something sad)
Written by insPiraTion in portal Fiction

I never really thought I could die. I'm young, and life stretched out for me like an endless expanse of road, the kind found in the country- flat and straight but with so much opportunity and beauty. To think that I would die some day was impossible to me.

I am the embodiment of the teenage cliché.

Yet, by means I will not go into, I now not only recognize I will die, but I know it will be soon. I can't say anything to you while I'm here, but I hope you find this when I'm gone because there are things I need to say, and I need to know they were received.

I'm not quite ready to die.

I have a pile of letters and stories and poems on that little black box you always asked about. You can open it now. Please do. Please read every written word contained inside. I think you might realize some things I never told you.

I have secrets that I don't want to keep.

The box should be sitting on a pile of notebooks. Read those as well. I wrote a lot of beginnings, but no endings. I'll let you do those. Let my characters live out their stories. Please don't let them hang in suspension eternally.

My characters mean more than I do, in the end.

Share my words everywhere you can. Maybe my body can't go on, but in many ways my thoughts can. I don't care if no one knows my name, but I don't want my being to be forgotten. I want to make a difference.

Words are the essence of being.

I don't need a fancy funeral. Donate my organs, let them be helpful. I might be dead, but most of me should still work with a proper system. I want to be cremated. Scatter me in the winds. They say death is an adventure, after all.

Practicality will make me happiest.

Thank you, and I'm sorry.

You'll be fine without me.

You never really needed me.

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You have a few days left to live. Only you know this. You are able to leave behind a note, letter, story or poem. It can be about anything you wish. Show us what you write. (Feel free to tag me. And by all means, don't feel that you're constrained to write something sad)
Written by insPiraTion in portal Fiction
I never really thought I could die. I'm young, and life stretched out for me like an endless expanse of road, the kind found in the country- flat and straight but with so much opportunity and beauty. To think that I would die some day was impossible to me.

I am the embodiment of the teenage cliché.

Yet, by means I will not go into, I now not only recognize I will die, but I know it will be soon. I can't say anything to you while I'm here, but I hope you find this when I'm gone because there are things I need to say, and I need to know they were received.

I'm not quite ready to die.

I have a pile of letters and stories and poems on that little black box you always asked about. You can open it now. Please do. Please read every written word contained inside. I think you might realize some things I never told you.

I have secrets that I don't want to keep.

The box should be sitting on a pile of notebooks. Read those as well. I wrote a lot of beginnings, but no endings. I'll let you do those. Let my characters live out their stories. Please don't let them hang in suspension eternally.

My characters mean more than I do, in the end.

Share my words everywhere you can. Maybe my body can't go on, but in many ways my thoughts can. I don't care if no one knows my name, but I don't want my being to be forgotten. I want to make a difference.

Words are the essence of being.

I don't need a fancy funeral. Donate my organs, let them be helpful. I might be dead, but most of me should still work with a proper system. I want to be cremated. Scatter me in the winds. They say death is an adventure, after all.

Practicality will make me happiest.

Thank you, and I'm sorry.
You'll be fine without me.

You never really needed me.
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Written by Harry_Situation in portal Fiction

The Old Master Part 5

The wrethkar herd continued their free roam in the ravine. Wandering amongst the herd was Legion, the great demon sorcerer, who searched for a flower, the Deathly Bloom, that would be suitable for Rosemary's upcoming presentation for her class. And where was Rosemary Gravely? She sat away from the old demon an a small boulder pile, no longer interested in her project but more so on the gentle herd that allowed the two of them to roam with. She sketched out drawings of a few of the beasts in her notepad. She drew in detail of each spike and scale of the young and the old. She even drew Legion guiding the herd like a old shepherd, which made her smile even more.

Suddenly she felt a tug on the back of her hoodie. She turned and saw an infant wrethkar gnawing at the cloth. It was the same baby that Legion helped birth. The newborn released her and gave a small squeak, then jumped down from the boulder pile. It was born not that long, perhaps only an hour or two, yet it was already walking and running at an accelerated rate. With every couple feet it ran it would always look back at Rosemary, coaxing her attention. 

"Oh, you want to play?" Rosie giggled. She could resist its temptations. Jumping down from the pile, Rosemary pursued the swift infant. It ran farther and farther from the human girl that she could barely keep up. She soon chased the newborn down the ravine which led them to a canyon. The infant cut through a rocky corner and disappeared. Right then she heard frantic squeals of the infant. 

"Oy! Snagged another one!" A grizzled voice cried out.

Rosemary darted for the large rock and crouched down. She poked her head from behind the large rock and saw three demons, that she has never met until now, gathered around a small campsite and safeguarded a set of large, wooden crates. One demon appeared like a muscled skeleton, much like Ghuul, but the horns on his head were longer like a gazelle. The second demon was much thinner and shorter than his comrades, with his appearance head and legs appearing rather goat like. The third demon was much more sinister looking than the others, with his muscular appearance much like a cross between a human and a lizard, complete with flaky scales, a short tail that swung behind, and his left eye so scarred up he couldn't open it.

"Remind me again why we're snatchin' up these babies." The skinny goat-demon whined. "Why can't we hunt down the bigger ones?"

"Their hides are only soft like this until they get bigger." Their horned leader explained. "Good for makin' some smooth leather, and worth quite a fortune to the right buyers. I gots me a flyboy in the heavens whose looking to buy off on some of their skins."

"Oh I can't wait to tell me brother." The skinny goat-demon giddied. "He's gonna be jelly of me when I come back stupid rich."

"You best keep your gob shut less you don't wanna loose your head!" The scarred lizard-demon warned his eager partner. "If any higher demons finds out what we've been up to it'll be our hides that's skinned."

Rosemary grew angry of what these demons were planning. She knew she had to get them out of that crate. As the demons talked among themselves of how their profits would be split, Rosie sneaked quietly to the crate. The closer she drew she heard the desperate pleas of the baby wrethkars inside the crate. She reached for the lock and tugged with all her might, but the lock wouldn't budge. 

Suddenly she felt something yank at her hood and hoisted her off the ground. She could help but let out a small yelp from the hoisting. Off the ground she dangled in the hand of the scarred demon, who barred his sharp teeth at her.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a spy in our mist, boys!" The scarred lizard-demon hissed to his comrades.

The other two demons gather around the two. They watched how Rosemary kicked about in the air and her small naval was exposed from her hoodie and shirt being held up. 

"What is it?" The skinny goat-demon asked.

"Looks like a soul." The horned leader commented.

The scarred lizard-demon took a couple sniffs at Rosemary and hissed once more, "Don't reek like one. Too fleshy and clothed to be a soul." 

"I'm a girl, you jerks!" Rosie retorted. "And you better let these baby wrethkars go!

"Or what?" The horned leader jeered.

"Or I'll tell my stepfather!" She warned. "May have heard of him. He's the devil, sometimes referred as the boss."

All three of the demons gulped at the mention of her stepfather. Small sweat beads dripped down from their monstrous heads.

"She's the boss's brat!?" The skinny goat-demon squeaked. 

"No she ain't!" The horned leader denied. "She's a liar!"

"Hey, what if she's telling the truth?" The skinny one asked. "What if we're ratted straight to the devil?"

"She's a kid. Kids always tell lies to get outta trouble." The lizard-demon spat. He then drew a large bowie knife from his belt and raised up to the girl's chin, to which she gasped at its sharpness. "Kids also know how to keep their mouths shut or risk their tongues cut out if she spills to anyone."

"And what of me?" A familiar voice bellowed nearby. "What is my punishment for knowing?"

All four looked to the path and saw the great demon sorcerer supreme himself lingering down their way. His old staff tapped the ground with each slow step. Each pair of spider like eyes glared to each of the poaching demons. The horned leader and skinny goat-demon pulled out their machetes from the sheaves of their pants and readied themselves.

"Oy! That there's Legion, the royal adviser." The skinny goat-demon gasped. "Kid was speakin' the truth!"

"This ain't your concern, old timer." The scarred lizard-demon hissed.

"You are trespassing on ground you do not belong in," The old arachnid said. "You are holding my assistant hostage and are threatening her life, and you have a few infant wrethkars boxed up with intentions to craft their hides into leather and sell it to the black market, an act to which I myself established a ban all across the depths of Hell. I would say that this indeed is now my concern. I am will grant each of you mercy and pardon your crimes if you do the following: release the wrethkars, apologize to the girl, leave this place, abnegate your professions, and never return.""

"Gut this old wizard!" The horned leader ordered.

The scarred lizard-demon dropped Rosie onto the ground and charged forward with the skinny goat-demon following suit. Legion spun his staff around and struck it against their heads. The skinny goat-demon took few more strikes against his body before being sent flying to the canyon wall by a final blow. The scarred-lizard demon tried to blast Legion with a couple fireballs, but, without a single glance, the sorcerer dissolved them with his hand. A purple glow emitted from the arachnid's hand followed by a great gust of wind, which blasted the scarred attacker into the canyon wall as well. 

The horned leader charged forward only to drop to his knees when Legion's staff jabbed him below his belt. A hard strike across his head knocked him on his back, which forced the demon to groan loudly from his pain. He then gagged when the wooden staff pressed down on his throat with the sorcerer standing above him.

"My offer still stands." Legion reminded them.

After their humiliating defeat at the hands of the old demon, the poachers did exactly as he instructed. They dropped their weapons, unlocked the crate of baby wrethkars, to which the babies scampered back to the herd. The poachers then followed up with a short apology to Rosemary, who mockingly smiled and laughed as they all ran out of the canyon, screaming like scared girls. Legion raised his left hand, which emitted a hazy green glow. Sprouting from the tainted ground were large roots that coiled around the crates, crushing them down into tiny splinters, so they can never be used again. 

Legion then looked on to Rosemary and said. "For one so small you seem to constantly find yourself in big trouble." 

"It's a bad habit." Rosie jested. "What about you? I thought you were against violence."

"I am. But I am for self defense."

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Written by Harry_Situation in portal Fiction
The Old Master Part 5
The wrethkar herd continued their free roam in the ravine. Wandering amongst the herd was Legion, the great demon sorcerer, who searched for a flower, the Deathly Bloom, that would be suitable for Rosemary's upcoming presentation for her class. And where was Rosemary Gravely? She sat away from the old demon an a small boulder pile, no longer interested in her project but more so on the gentle herd that allowed the two of them to roam with. She sketched out drawings of a few of the beasts in her notepad. She drew in detail of each spike and scale of the young and the old. She even drew Legion guiding the herd like a old shepherd, which made her smile even more.

Suddenly she felt a tug on the back of her hoodie. She turned and saw an infant wrethkar gnawing at the cloth. It was the same baby that Legion helped birth. The newborn released her and gave a small squeak, then jumped down from the boulder pile. It was born not that long, perhaps only an hour or two, yet it was already walking and running at an accelerated rate. With every couple feet it ran it would always look back at Rosemary, coaxing her attention. 

"Oh, you want to play?" Rosie giggled. She could resist its temptations. Jumping down from the pile, Rosemary pursued the swift infant. It ran farther and farther from the human girl that she could barely keep up. She soon chased the newborn down the ravine which led them to a canyon. The infant cut through a rocky corner and disappeared. Right then she heard frantic squeals of the infant. 

"Oy! Snagged another one!" A grizzled voice cried out.

Rosemary darted for the large rock and crouched down. She poked her head from behind the large rock and saw three demons, that she has never met until now, gathered around a small campsite and safeguarded a set of large, wooden crates. One demon appeared like a muscled skeleton, much like Ghuul, but the horns on his head were longer like a gazelle. The second demon was much thinner and shorter than his comrades, with his appearance head and legs appearing rather goat like. The third demon was much more sinister looking than the others, with his muscular appearance much like a cross between a human and a lizard, complete with flaky scales, a short tail that swung behind, and his left eye so scarred up he couldn't open it.

"Remind me again why we're snatchin' up these babies." The skinny goat-demon whined. "Why can't we hunt down the bigger ones?"

"Their hides are only soft like this until they get bigger." Their horned leader explained. "Good for makin' some smooth leather, and worth quite a fortune to the right buyers. I gots me a flyboy in the heavens whose looking to buy off on some of their skins."

"Oh I can't wait to tell me brother." The skinny goat-demon giddied. "He's gonna be jelly of me when I come back stupid rich."

"You best keep your gob shut less you don't wanna loose your head!" The scarred lizard-demon warned his eager partner. "If any higher demons finds out what we've been up to it'll be our hides that's skinned."

Rosemary grew angry of what these demons were planning. She knew she had to get them out of that crate. As the demons talked among themselves of how their profits would be split, Rosie sneaked quietly to the crate. The closer she drew she heard the desperate pleas of the baby wrethkars inside the crate. She reached for the lock and tugged with all her might, but the lock wouldn't budge. 

Suddenly she felt something yank at her hood and hoisted her off the ground. She could help but let out a small yelp from the hoisting. Off the ground she dangled in the hand of the scarred demon, who barred his sharp teeth at her.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a spy in our mist, boys!" The scarred lizard-demon hissed to his comrades.

The other two demons gather around the two. They watched how Rosemary kicked about in the air and her small naval was exposed from her hoodie and shirt being held up. 

"What is it?" The skinny goat-demon asked.

"Looks like a soul." The horned leader commented.

The scarred lizard-demon took a couple sniffs at Rosemary and hissed once more, "Don't reek like one. Too fleshy and clothed to be a soul." 

"I'm a girl, you jerks!" Rosie retorted. "And you better let these baby wrethkars go!

"Or what?" The horned leader jeered.

"Or I'll tell my stepfather!" She warned. "May have heard of him. He's the devil, sometimes referred as the boss."

All three of the demons gulped at the mention of her stepfather. Small sweat beads dripped down from their monstrous heads.

"She's the boss's brat!?" The skinny goat-demon squeaked. 

"No she ain't!" The horned leader denied. "She's a liar!"

"Hey, what if she's telling the truth?" The skinny one asked. "What if we're ratted straight to the devil?"

"She's a kid. Kids always tell lies to get outta trouble." The lizard-demon spat. He then drew a large bowie knife from his belt and raised up to the girl's chin, to which she gasped at its sharpness. "Kids also know how to keep their mouths shut or risk their tongues cut out if she spills to anyone."

"And what of me?" A familiar voice bellowed nearby. "What is my punishment for knowing?"

All four looked to the path and saw the great demon sorcerer supreme himself lingering down their way. His old staff tapped the ground with each slow step. Each pair of spider like eyes glared to each of the poaching demons. The horned leader and skinny goat-demon pulled out their machetes from the sheaves of their pants and readied themselves.

"Oy! That there's Legion, the royal adviser." The skinny goat-demon gasped. "Kid was speakin' the truth!"

"This ain't your concern, old timer." The scarred lizard-demon hissed.

"You are trespassing on ground you do not belong in," The old arachnid said. "You are holding my assistant hostage and are threatening her life, and you have a few infant wrethkars boxed up with intentions to craft their hides into leather and sell it to the black market, an act to which I myself established a ban all across the depths of Hell. I would say that this indeed is now my concern. I am will grant each of you mercy and pardon your crimes if you do the following: release the wrethkars, apologize to the girl, leave this place, abnegate your professions, and never return.""

"Gut this old wizard!" The horned leader ordered.

The scarred lizard-demon dropped Rosie onto the ground and charged forward with the skinny goat-demon following suit. Legion spun his staff around and struck it against their heads. The skinny goat-demon took few more strikes against his body before being sent flying to the canyon wall by a final blow. The scarred-lizard demon tried to blast Legion with a couple fireballs, but, without a single glance, the sorcerer dissolved them with his hand. A purple glow emitted from the arachnid's hand followed by a great gust of wind, which blasted the scarred attacker into the canyon wall as well. 

The horned leader charged forward only to drop to his knees when Legion's staff jabbed him below his belt. A hard strike across his head knocked him on his back, which forced the demon to groan loudly from his pain. He then gagged when the wooden staff pressed down on his throat with the sorcerer standing above him.

"My offer still stands." Legion reminded them.

After their humiliating defeat at the hands of the old demon, the poachers did exactly as he instructed. They dropped their weapons, unlocked the crate of baby wrethkars, to which the babies scampered back to the herd. The poachers then followed up with a short apology to Rosemary, who mockingly smiled and laughed as they all ran out of the canyon, screaming like scared girls. Legion raised his left hand, which emitted a hazy green glow. Sprouting from the tainted ground were large roots that coiled around the crates, crushing them down into tiny splinters, so they can never be used again. 

Legion then looked on to Rosemary and said. "For one so small you seem to constantly find yourself in big trouble." 

"It's a bad habit." Rosie jested. "What about you? I thought you were against violence."

"I am. But I am for self defense."
#fantasy  #fiction  #horror  #comedy  #sinsofthefather 
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