A note concerning stand offs

The Hatter was resplendent in his multi-faced, multi-armed avatar form. He displayed a serene, beatific expression as he swayed slightly back and forth. March Hare slouched against a pillar at his side. Across the bridge, the Huntsman stood amidst his pack of hounds; three hundred pound precision engineered monstrosities. The rent heart on his banner seemed to beat as it flapped in the breeze. “You’re outnumbered twenty to one! There’s no way you’re going to make it across the bridge. Turn around and go! There’s no need for a slaughter.” The Huntsman was incredulous.

“You are correct. Stand down and we will allow you to keep your lives” replied the Hatter.

“There are only two of you! Are you mad?”

March levered himself away from the pillar and scratched the back of his head. “No, not yet he isn’t. I’d just let us by if I were you. You wouldn’t like him when he’s mad.”

The Huntsman shook his head, “If you’re not going to go, then you leave me no choice but to engage you.” The hounds growled and stood poised and eager. He raised his cannon to his shoulder and fired a devastating bolt at the swaying Hatter. The blast blew him off his feet and enveloped him in a cloud of smoke and energy. March shook his head as the Hatter sprung upright, his faces rotating in a blur before settling on an expression of unquenchable fury. The Hunstman’s jaw dropped and the hounds began to howl.

“Now you’ve done it,” offered March as he rolled up his sleeves. 

The Hatter charged up the bridge. “Why is a raven like a writing desk?” he bellowed.

March drew a pair of gleaming, pearl inlaid pistols with a sigh, “I doubt you’ll guess the answer, and I don’t think you’ll like it very much even if you do.”

A note concerning mimsy

White’s troops began to mount up on their bikes and trucks, led by her seven lieutenants. White herself had a gleaming, blue chrome machine. It was sleek and striking with its red enamel accents, ivory leather, and midnight black hardware.

“Hey, did anybody else hear that whuffling sound?” asked Sleazy.

White snugged her riding gloves onto her delicate hands and glanced over her shoulder at Alice. “What’s the matter, my dear? Nothing left in the motor pool? You can ride double with one of my men if you’d like. I think there’s room on Greasy’s bike.” Alice looked up at the sky and shaded her eyes with her hand. She smirked.

“Oh come on! I know you guys heard that burbling! It’s coming from the woods! How did you all miss that?” complained Sleazy.

White’s false smile was replaced by a real frown. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, girl.” A violent crash echoed from the woods, a fitting accompaniment to the explosion of splinters that used to be trees. In the gap a horrible creature was revealed. The beast was 15 feet high at the shoulder and covered in scales that looked like mossy stones. It flapped its membranous wings and roared, swamping the panicking troops with its fetid breath. Above its terrifying maw, where there should have been eyes, blazed two fire streaming pits.

“What the hell is that?” screamed Sleazy.

“My ride,” replied Alice with mimsy.

A note concerning role reversal

Dashing kicked in the door, gallantly strode into the room, shouted “Don’t worry milady, I’ll save you!” and immediately slipped and fell on his face. That was not how it was supposed to go. Whatever he slipped in made a wet, sucking sound as he pried his face out of it. He noticed a couple of horrifying things as he rose to his knees and looked up: The reason he slipped was because the floor, the walls, and for that matter the ceiling, were covered in blood. Not just blood as it turns out, but all manner of body parts as well. A Cat with the most fiendish look he had ever seen was rolling around delightedly in a pile of viscera. Prince Dashing threw up. This definitely was not how it was supposed to go. He wiped his mouth off, realized his hand was covered in semi-clotted blood and almost threw up again. Light headed, Dashing slumped back on his heels and stared wide eyed across the room. A young woman was perched, quite demurely despite being spattered with gore, atop a pile of crates and weaponry. Her smile contrasted brightly against all of the blood.

            “Excellent timing! I was just beginning to wonder how I was going to carry all of this loot out by myself,” remarked Alice.

A note concerning first impressions

Cinder set the file down on the desk and leaned back to regard the applicant. White wasn’t impressed, this one wasn’t even royalty. She clicked her pen against her perfect teeth. “So what is it that you feel you can add to the cause?” She asked.

The young woman ran a hand through her short, spiked, blonde hair and rose. Cinder wasn’t sure if the room got smaller or the girl got bigger, but either way her presence filled the space. White whimpered. The applicant reached into the mirror hanging on the wall, toothy, feline grins glittering around her, and drew forth a notched, stained sword. It made a noise that Cinder would later describe as ‘snicker snack.’

“I can make it rather easy for folks to stand on their own heads, for starters,” Alice said crisply.

A note concerning Alexandra (Project: Lodestar 9)

Alexandra relished the feeling of crossing the threshold. With the passing of time she has felt more and more a stranger in what she has come to think of as the material world. There she felt confined within a cage of flesh, but here her body was made from scintillating phosphorescence. No one was ever able to figure out just where it was that Alexandra went when she stepped through a mirror. In time she was able to bring others with her but unliving objects were never able to make the crossing. The scientists, bereft of their instruments and strangers to this place to which she seemed to be an integral part, were unable to collect data with which to feed their science and thus nothing conclusive was ever determined. Years later, Alexandra still didn’t know where it was that she went, but she didn’t really care anymore, because wherever it was, the place felt like home.

A vast snarl of luminescence pulsed in tangled masses for as far as she could see. To the best of Alexandra’s knowledge these shining skeins represented the ebb and flow of life and death. Right now it was a particular death she sought. She hefted her staff, here a great barbed spear, as she cast her perceptions along the strands. Her head snapped to the right, orienting like a weathercock in a strong wind and she hurled the spear. As it streaked away it became a winged serpent and she took off in its wake.

Soul, chi, anima, life force, whatever people wanted to call it, had an analogue in that place. The death of something was a physical event, something that she could observe, and even interact with. Always the spent life lingered, but never for very long. Alexandra hoped that she wouldn’t fail Cassandra the way she did Steven. If she could get there fast enough and gather up that spark before it faded, she fervently believed she could save her friend.

She set down beside a flaring pillar of scarlet light that could only be Amaranth. Cities were difficult to work in because of the sheer density of complex life crammed within them. With practiced ease she began to filter out the threads of the living. Once they were shut out she could detect faint greenish wisps. She gently stroked one. It felt like Cassandra, but something wasn’t right, there should have been more. She tried to refine her focus even further and as a result did not see the vibrant blue chains surging out of the darkness towards her.

In a blink she was ensnared, her body sizzled where it touched the restraints. An ephemeral figure the same color as the chains came in to view. “When I first devised this trap I never thought it would catch a fly so quickly,” it said sardonically.

Alexandra peered out from the constricting mass of links. “It would seem you’re not quite as dead as we thought.” She thought for a moment, “Did you fake Cassandra’s death?”

“Oh no, she’s quite dead,” said the image of Ansel as it approached her.

She could just barely make out a knot of greenish energy constrained within it. “You didn’t just kill her, did you? What else did you do?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” replied Ansel. His fingers sharpened into wicked points and his hands ignited in blue fire. The chains parted to reveal her torso. “Any last words?”

“I’m impressed. You picked up more than I thought. Not only are you able to project across the barrier but you can exert your power here as well,” Alexandra tensed against her restraints.

Ansel reached towards her, “It would seem that I made a better student than you a teacher, but it would be remiss of me not to thank you.” His fingers paused a fraction of an inch from her navel, “After all, I wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for you.” He plunged his hand into her body and frowned when he didn’t meet the resistance he expected. He grew even more concerned when he couldn’t pull his hand back out.

Alexandra shook her head. When she spoke her voice was icy, “You arrogant shit. Did you really think you could get the better of me in this of all places?” With a soft noise the chains exploded into a cloud of thousands of flower petals.

Scowling, Ansel leapt back, his arm separated from his body at the shoulder. He spoke calmly, “This is only a minor set back.” The severed arm distended and then disgorged a writhing organic mass of tendrils that quickly enveloped Alexandra. Ansel gathered the last few wisps of Cassandra’s life force in his remaining hand. “Good day Alex, until next time.”

Her voice was clear despite the overwhelming cocoon that had surrounded her, “Oh no, I’m not done with you yet!” Mouth open in a silent cry the winged serpent dropped from above like a lighting bolt, transmuted back into the great spear, and transfixed Ansel in place. Streamers of white energy coruscated from the wound. The cocoon withered and fell in great glittering flakes. “I can feel her on you. What did you do to her!”

“If you were in my place do you think you’d answer that question?”

“No, but if you were in mine there’s no end to the torture and atrocities you’d commit until you got your answer.” The spear pulsed. Ansel grimaced. His image was beginning to fray at the edges.

“I’ve always liked this dark side of yours. Keep this up and I may have to start calling you a tease.”

She grabbed him. His shoulder reacted like putty to her touch. “We’ll see how long you can keep up the smug remarks. I’ll get her back, Ansel, even if I have to shred your fucking soul in the process.”

His reply was shaky, “As much as I would like to see how far you’d go, I don’t think that’d be in my best interests.” Thick blue sparks exploded into Alexandra’s face and with a mighty effort Ansel ripped free from the spear, leaving most of his lower body behind. “I guess there are still a few things left that you can teach me. I look forward to prying them from your corpse.” His projected image began to unravel rapidly. With a shout Alexandra lunged for him, channeling all of her power into her grasp, but she could only watch helplessly as the threads slid between her fingers and disappeared. The throbbing energy of the city came back into focus around her. Staring at her clenched fist, she stood isolated and alone amidst that vast tangle of life. When she opened her fingers, a handful of green motes sparkled in her palm, far more precious than the gemstones they resembled.

A note concerning ties stronger than blood (Project: Lodestar 8)

Amaranth ran through hazardous rain darkened streets. The apartment building she left ten minutes ago seemed squat and hunched in the gloom. Her hand was shaking so hard she could not press the call button on the intercom. Instead she took a few steps back and kicked the metal door from its hinges. The lobby was dark and she located the stairwell by the wan illumination cast by the emergency lights. Taking the stairs three at a time Amaranth was a crimson flash. Cassandra’s door did not slow her down at all, in fact it exploded with such velocity that the fragments caught flame. Slippery shoes betrayed her and she was only able to stop herself by crashing half way through a wall. Amaranth stumbled free as a cascade of lightning cut through the sky illuminating the apartment. On her knees she tried to find the breath to cry.


A soldier named Ridley paused halfway through the report he was reading, cursed, and leaned back into his camp chair. The efficiently spartan quarters took on an empty feeling he had never noticed before. Ridley retrieved a half finished cigarette from behind his ear and lit it. He took a deep drag and held it until his vision began to waver before releasing his breath. Bluish smoke enshrouded the radio on the desk. Ridley roughly thumbed it on and spoke in a gravelly baritone, “Maya, something urgent has come up. I’m going stateside for an unknown amount of time. Please draw up orders placing Hamlin in charge of the Reapers until I return.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Thank you, Maya.” Ridley hung his head and pulled deeply from the cigarette once more.


A man sometimes called Dayth awoke from a dead sleep with a start. His surroundings confused him. There was a distinct impression of being trapped in a small room despite the fact that he was in an open forest. Instincts warred within his mind and adrenaline turned his limbs to fire. Dayth wanted to both fight and flee. Something warm and rough pressed against his cheek brought him to his senses. An old, grizzled wolf stared at him with warm amber eyes and licked his face again. Realization of what happened hit Dayth like a hammer blow. The wolf tilted his head back and loosed a low, solemn howl. The call was picked up by the other animals in the makeshift camp; a collection of dogs, wolves, and coyotes. Dayth added his voice to those of his brothers and sisters.


A young woman named Kyler sat alone in a warmly lit room. A pair of tears formed in the corners of her vacant eyes and slowly rolled down her cheeks.


A glassblower named Gabriel stared without seeing anything. His clothing smoldered. Molten glass oozed between the trembling fingers of his clenched fist deep within the furnace. He vainly tried to chase his nightmares away with the pain.

The mysterious Grey dodged backward awkwardly, his balance askew from his recently severed right arm. He ducked under his opponent’s next attack and deftly tapped it on its left hip. Blackish purple sparks erupted from the point of contact. Over half of its component pieces were teleported to random locations throughout the Tomb and what was left collapsed into a heap at Grey’s feet. Momentarily free of the melee, he paused to take stock of the situation. A sudden sharp intake of breath and a slight narrowing of the eyes was the only indication he gave that something was amiss. Grey's voice was quiet and harsh, “That utter cunning bastard.” When he tried to teleport out of the Tomb, his body flared into a cloud or purple sparks and images of him flickered violently all over the room and did so with such rapidity that it seemed as if he were everywhere at once. The sparks dispersed. Grey reappeared. Thin cracks of rage began to mar his normally imperturbable veneer.


Even the shock of Cassandra’s psychic tremor could not cause Arsiel to falter. He choked up on his weapon and quickly dispatched the two machines in front of him. Despite more foes pressing in he spared a breath to disparage Ansel. Finely channeled fury raced through his limbs and his world narrowed to flashing blades and the smell of wreckage.


The minute characters flooding Valentine’s vision with streams of information blurred. She blinked once and her eyes returned to their normal hazel hue. The sounds of the struggle around her began to feel overpowering. Grey looked angry; Arsiel fought with an inhuman level of competence and poise. Valentine bit down on her lip and rubbed the tears from her eyes with the back of a glowing hand. When she opened them data was once again rolling across an even orange field and she redoubled her efforts with a new found determination.


Far away, a young lady named Midori rose slowly from her bed. Her movements were slow, trance-like. Although tears welled from her eyes, when she spoke to the empty room her voice was level. “Yes, Cassie, I understand.” She raised a hand to the wall and began to write, the wood smoldering in the wake of her fingertip.


Alexandra absently rubbed her cheek leaving a smear of dirt behind. The sunlight was warm upon her back and the fragrant breeze cool on her skin. She jerked her head up abruptly. “What? No!” Alexandra dashed recklessly through her garden and into her home. The normally open and friendly environment seemed a hostile obstacle in her rush. Cursing under her breath the entire way, she grabbed a staff from an umbrella stand near the front door, careened around a corner, and leapt down the basement stairs. The psychic impact of Cassandra's passing broke her concentration and she twisted her ankle when she landed. Alexandra turned the stumble into a forward roll and kept moving toward a mirror standing upright in the middle of the room. Its surface rippled slightly, like water. “I won’t be too late! Not again!” Alexandra thought as she lunged through mirror leaving behind a heap of earth-stained clothing.

A note concerning Cassandra (Project: Lodestar 7)

Cassandra felt like she had to drag herself the last few feet to her door. An echoing crash of thunder rattled the apartment building. Moments later the hallways plunged into darkness. Emergency lights quickly turned on, but did little besides add texture to the shadowy gloom. Cassandra opened her door. Something was nagging her just behind the eyes, but she couldn’t figure out what. She dropped her coat and headed to the kitchen to get a candle. The pressure behind her eyes increased. The air was heavy and charged. With trembling hands Cassandra retrieved and lit a candle from the cupboard. She returned to the common room and almost dropped the candle in shock.

“Hello, Cass. It’s been awhile.” Ansel smiled and stood up.

“No…” Cassandra’s voice was small.

“What? Not happy to see me?” Ansel’s hand flickered with brief motion and two short rods flew across the room and pinned her to the wall by the shoulders. The pain was excruciating. “I guess this isn’t too big a surprise for you, so I’ll let it go.”

She tried to block out the pain and focus her mind. Between sharp breaths she spoke, “How?”

“How what?”

“How is that you’re not dead?”

Ansel’s grin was strangely luminescent in the darkness. “A little trick I picked up from Alex. It was touch and go for awhile, but I’m a stubborn bastard.”

“What about the Tomb?”

“That was a clever move, I’ll give you that, and it would have worked great if you had gotten me into it. Unfortunately for you, there may have been some confusion with the bodies towards the end there. My fault really.” Ansel sighed and shook his head. “Poor Benjamin didn’t quite know what he was getting into when he signed on with me. Still, you know the saying about omelets and eggs.” Just as Cassandra was getting the pain under control Ansel reached out and ground one of the rods around in her shoulder. She tried to bite back the scream but couldn’t and almost blacked out. He cupped a hand to her cheek and an invigorating jolt coursed through her body filling her with energy but doing nothing for the pain. “Now now, can’t have you blacking out just yet,” chided Ansel.

“Just do whatever it is you’re going to do, Ansel. I’m not stupid, I know where this is headed.”

“So curt!” Ansel moved his hand from her cheek and brushed her hair from her face. His eyes were bright with a mad energy. “Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

Cassandra coughed, and the pain elicited a whimper. “Curious? Why? So I could listen to you boast?” She almost instinctively shrugged, but caught herself at the last minute. “No Ansel, I don’t care. I know you’re fucked up. I know there’s nothing I can say that will change what you’re going to do. I’m not going to play along and give you whatever sick enjoyment you’re looking for. So either do what you’re going to do, or piss off and get me the fuck down.”

The glee and congeniality left Anel’s features. The heaviness in the air increased to oppressive levels. Lightning flashed and illuminated his scowl. “You think you’re just so damn clever, don’t you? Where’s your precious foresight now?” Ansel punctuated his question with a backhand that split her lip open.

Cassandra began to panic. Ansel wasn’t letting her concentrate. “I’ve already warned the others. The instant you kill me they’ll know for sure.”

“What, is that supposed to scare me? The lot of you couldn’t kill me before and you had Steven then. He's gone and soon you'll be joining him, what makes you think things will be any different this time? No, I’ve already accounted for their awareness.” Ansel’s right hand became enveloped in coruscating blue light. He placed it on her stomach, and with a sizzle it passed seamlessly through the flesh into her abdomen. Cassandra forgot all about her shoulders, her apartment, even Ansel. Nothing else could compare to the agony. Ansel waited until a semblance of sentience returned to her eyes and for the screaming to die down. He flexed his fingers within her and smiled as she writhed. He stepped in close, his cheek brushing against hers and slowly moved his hand up towards her ribs. “I’ve always been very curious about something, Cassandra. Just before I killed Steven I felt this flash, this warning that he was about to die. It came as a surprise and I always wondered if the rest of you felt it too. I’m guessing at least some of you did. That bastard Grey blinked in and almost stopped me. He was confused though, I don’t think he’s used to operating on instinct. That cost Steven his life.” Half the length of Ansel’s forearm had penetrated into her torso. He ran his fingers along the surface of her heart, felt its frantic pulse. “There it was! The same flash! Did you feel it Cass? Did the others? I’ll have to be sure to ask them when we meet.” He gently kissed her cheek and drew back slightly to look into her eyes. The blue gaze that stared back was defiant. “Good bye, Cassandra.” He held her heart in his hand and he squeezed.