Young Writers Society

I nod. "Yes." I shrugged and looked around, having a bad feeling someone was coming.

Addison-
I walked into the tavern and looked around it seemed nice but there was a trail of blood on the floor . It smelled fresh which ment someone in here was bleeding and not lightly either and I got to admit I am a little squeamish I looked towards the bar there was a group of people stood there and I really hoped they wouldn't fight. " what would you like?"
" ummm chocolate milkshake thanks" I knew it was a bar but I wasn't technically old enough for alcohol and besides milkshake was way nicer anyway

Addison-
Suddenly the girl- I think she was a vampire- looked up and I turned around and had that walk over your grave feeling I shuddered took my milkshake and sat in one of the hidden booths if something bad was coming through that door I did not want to be visible to it!

Daleran-

Daleran walked into the doorway, wearing the hood on his cloak up, hiding his face. With a quick look around, he saw an average tavern. Nothing too special. Nothing he hadn't seen before. Except for the lack of fights. Most of the taverns he'd been to had a lot of fights.

He walked in all the way with a grunt, his hands feeling at his sides for his daggers. Just in case he needed them, but he was sure he wouldn't.

He continued walking and sat down at a booth, nodding at the few tavern-goers that he saw. He took out a small map and started examining it.

Luna-

Luna pulled her red hooded cape tighter to her chest. She pulls her hood lower on her face and opens the door into the tavern. Her body shakes as she enters and see everyone laughing and chugging down their beers. Her broken wings run against her cape, causing her teeth to clench and her eyes to water. She needed to sit down before she starts bleeding again.

She slowly walks towards the booths, but all the seats are taken--except for one. In the booth sat a man in a cloak, his face was hidden and he was rhythmically taping on a small map in front of him.

It was the only spot left.

Luna walked up the man. "Sir," her back burned, she sucked in air through her teeth, "is this seat taken?"

Daleran-

Daleran grunts and gestures to the seat, not at all looking up from the map. He tilts the map slightly and takes out a small quill. The quill is still wet with ink and he starts writing and drawing figures on the map. He rolls up his map and deposits it in his pocket. He speaks to the one who asked him to sit.

"Who are you?"

Luna-

Luna slides down into the booth, curls her hands onto her lap, and looks to her knee's hidden under a burgundy dress. She looks up to the man across from her, but he doesn't look at her.

"My name is.." Luna exhales, "It's Abby. Yes, it's Abby."

Luna's fingers begin to tremble. She has never lied to anyone before. She wasn't raised that way, but she had to protect her identity. She had to survive and make sure that the man who cut off her wings won't find her.

Luna tugs her hood lower. "What is your name?"

Daleran
Daleran looked at her with suspicion.

Oh, another one of these types. Wanting to know everyone's name.

"Daleran," he told her. He looked down at her fingers, and saw that they were trembling with fear. "You know... It's not easy to lie to me. I can see your fingers trembling."

He gazed into her nervous eyes. "So... Tell me again. Who are you?"

Addison-
I was starting to feel a bit lonely so I looked around. I'm not the type to hang out at the bar and there weren't many people sat at the tables, there was two people sat at one of them. The girl looked kind of uncomfortable so I thought I'd go say hi and distract her from whatever was worrying her so much. "hi can I sit here?" I thought I had asked politely but the guy just ignored me and continued staring intently at the girl so I turned to her and said "hi, my name's Addison I was just wondering whether this seat was taken...?"

The patrons in the bar hear rain pick up outside. The hooded figure, the trembling girl, and the woman who all sat at the corner table stopped talking and listened for a moment. The reptilian Xenomorph, the men, elves, and dwarves who were drinking their beers, all stopped a moment to listen. Those at the corner table did not continue talking. They looked at each other sizing one another up in the awkward silence. The rain picks up in intensity. The patrons can hear the rain strike the roof tiles in sheets. The wind howls. A distant crack of thunder startle a few. Some are too drunk to notice, for it is getting late. The drunk ones are either asleep or being escorted to rooms in the side buildings or upstairs. The night continues as a normal one in an inn, except for those at the corner table.

Outside, two massive shapes swoop in from the ruddy sky and land clumsily behind the stables. A few horses squeal in fright, but their fear is lost to the wind and no one inside hears them. No one hears the Dragons land, either, for though they are huge and though the storm gives them difficulty, they are silent by nature. Two figures dismount from the saddles on the beasts' shoulders. Each gives the beast an affectionate pat and tell them to take shelter behind a hill somewhere. Over the wind, a woman's and a man's voice can be heard vaguely, snatches of words. The woman said the name "Limok", and she seemed to have been talking to the Dragon whose scales glinted silver. The man referred to the other, slightly larger Dragon whose scales were blue as "Birul". The Limok nudged her rider, almost knocking the woman off her feet. The woman shooed her off, and the two Dragons half-glide, half-gallop away, not flying for fear of being grabbed by the wind.

The door of the tavern opens and those patrons who are not drunk call for the new arrivals to close it. The request is quickly complied to, but not before the patrons notice the two people who slip in. Both are cloaked and hooded in drab grey. One's figure is that of a woman and the other a man. The woman has an enourmouse longbow slung over her back, as well as a quiver of arrows. And she looks as though she knows how to use them. Though one cannot see most of her face, she looks human. Her skin is dark and what features that can be seen are beautiful. But those who look at her can feel her gaze burning into their souls from under the hood. They quickly look away from her and at the man.

His face, also, is hidden. His skin is lighter than hers. He carries a staff in one hand. The staff has an orb of blued metal on top and a whicked spike on the bottom. He carries it with both ends off the ground, out of deference to the floorboards. The staff's leather grip is worn smooth by use. It is no mere walking stick, but as much a weapon as the woman's bow. He hefts it easily as the two strange figures approach the counter. The patrons look away and resume their conversations in hushed tones, unaware that the two can hear ever word and their heartbeats as well. The woman exchanges money with the hostess and the two mount the stairs. It is common theory among the patrons that they rented a room for the night. The weapons are understandable, for these are dangerouse times. The conversations turn away from the two bizarre figures.

Later, the two slip back down the stairs, their weapons gone. The cloaks remain, but the hoods are pushed back a little more. No one notices them, for the two are unobtrusive about sliding into a table against the wall that had been vacated by a drunk and his freinds. When the waitress comes around to them they order a late dinner and some coffe. They eat and drink in silence, their eyes roving the room constantly.

I felt grateful since everyone had seemed to forget my existence. I had a headache going on and swallowed back some whiskey slowly working my way through the bottle. I tugged the hood of my black cloak over my hair feeling a bit jumpy for some ood reason and then a scent hit me. 'Dragons.' I thought thiand smiled slightly. As a vampire anything stronger than me tended to make me jumpy. I continued to drink not saying anything.

The cloaked woman and the man silently nurse their coffee, unnoticed and invisible to the rest of the taproom. Even the hostess seems to have forgotten them, assuming they are still upstairs in the room. The man beside her continues to survey the patrons, but the woman is surreptitiously zoomed in on the corner table. She can hear the little girl's pulse thumping loudly and the cloaked figure's tense silence as he waits for the answer to a question that the woman had not heard, but the little girl seemed to be afraid of. Something interesting is going on there. But then she feels the man beside her stiffen. She lightly touches his mind and sees that he and Birul were conversing. She feels for Limok. Limok is taking her turn sleeping while Birul keeps attentive watch over his mate. Her turn is almost upon her, for they keep the cycles short so that the sentry is always attentive and fresh. The man's mind withdraws from Birul's. He relaxes his body to disguise that his mind had ever left the room. But as he turns to scratch himself, his lips brush her ear. He whispers ever so quietly: "Mirayah, the farther end of the bar with the whiskey bottle in one hand. Your Sense is sharper than mine,". He straightens up and continues his silent surveillance of the taproom. The Sense that he referred to, Mirayah knows, is the Sixth Sense that they had been trained to hone and rely on. It is used to detect danger and the form it comes in, and when focused, can sometimes be used to reveal a magical spell or disguise. Mirayah's dark eyes also rove the room for a few minutes. But she does not continue the charade for long, just enough to erase suspicion. If she immediately focused on the person, someone looking her way would be able to see what she was looking at. Now she that she had allowed the proper precautions, she glances at the person at the end of the bar. She cannot smell anything specific, for the smells of the many creatures in the room make it hard for her to isolate the species of one person. But she notices the paleness of the skin on the hand that grips the neck of the whiskey bottle. Like hers, the hood of the cloak is pushed back far enough that the face can be vaguely seen, and so that no one notices the person being solicitous about hiding their face. Too bad the person is facing away from her, or she would be able to see the face under the shadows of the hood, for darkness is no obstacle for her enhanced vision. The person stiffens, then takes another swig from the bottle. At the same moment, Mirayah feels a changing in the wind of the storm. Her heart jumps to her throat: she, too, can smell the Dragons! Thankfully, the wind moves off. Mirayah glances about the room. None but that strange person have smelled it. She notices that the person has not relaxed, but they continue to swig the whiskey and sit at the bar. They have chosen to ignore the hint on the wind. Either they put it down to their own imagination or drunkenness, or they are afraid to get involved with the scent. She hoped it was the first one, though the second would be more accurate. But she also notices that they do not seem to be drunk. The bottle is half-empty and they are not even swaying. The only people she knew who could accomplish that were Limok and Birul, who could soak up liquor like a sponge if they wanted to, or herself and Ash, the man sitting next to her. All four are immortal. Could the strange figure across the bar also be immortal? She could think of several species that had very long lifespans, but few besides herself and the Dragons that were immortal though not invulnerable. Nothing was invulnerable. She realizes that in her reflections she had forgotten to mention to Ash the corner table. She nudges him under the chair and uses their signal to point it out to him, without taking her attention off of the immortal. She feels him adjust and inwardly smiles. They have it all under control.

Andrea Stoddard

I kept the tome in my arms as I walked into the tavern, I looked around this place was dead in the middle of Heaven and Hell. Hell spawn and Heavens guard both come here, this was purgatory here, I walk over to the counter and take a seat on one of the stools.

"Water please," I squeaked.

The bartender fills a cup full of water and puts it on the counter in front of me, I take it in my hand and sip from it. I could feel the eyes of the entire bar on me, which only forces the arm around the tome tighter against my chest. I continue to sip from it and in my mind I chanted an incantation to awake a power from the tome.

"Oh tome created by Lucifer, grant me the abilities to hear thoughts," I thought.

Thoughts flood my mind, in different sounds and pitches as I heard the people around me. Vampires, were wolfs, dragons, ghosts, other things I have encountered before. I look out of the corner of my eye, and see a woman in a black clock sipping from a bottle of whiskey.

Hell's Tome had all the power to fight anyone here, weather I would survive the use of its power was the simple question here. I put the half empty glass of water back on the counter, and pull out a silver necklace with an upside down cross on it, a family heirloom, I didn't care if it meant I was against God, I felt safe with it out.

Mirayah feels a surge of powerful magic rush from the newcomer as they set the glass of water down. She throws up the barriers around her mind and Limok's just in time before the spell reaches her. But she strugglesto hold them up under the onslaught; the magic is so powerful that it is all she can do not to cry out, and to keep herself and Liomk shielded. Limok awakes and lends her immense strength to the fight, and the sheildings stabalize. In that breif moment of respite, a quick probing of Ash's mind finds that he and Birul, also, had shielded themselves just in time. The two discontinue their surveillance of the room, leaving the corner table and the strange immortal to their own devices. They must focus their energy and attention on maintaining against the newcomer's power. No one notices, for their past unobtrusiveness helped to continue to hide them from prying eyes. No one had seen them before, luckily, so why would they now?

Fionna, from behind the bar, begins to feel a tension in the air. She had seen some strange things in her time as an innkeeper, and had prevented her share of fights. But this was different. Something darker and more menacing is going on here. Unfortunately, in her taproom. She uneasily shrugs it off. 'You open up an inter-species fantasy inn,' she thinks to herself, 'there are bound to be incedents,". She silently prays that if the no-powerful-magic rule was being broken by someone, that it at least not break out into a fight. She had already had to re-build the taproom twice. May it not happen again.

Andrea Stoddard

Four resist the power of Hell's Tome, I pick up the cup up again and this time down the last of it. I then place it back down on the counter and request a refill. As the bartender picks up the glass I take Hell's Tome from my chest and open it, to the unworthy the pages were blank. To me though, the pages flourished as spell after spell appeared before me, the spells of the King of Hell. I turn to a blank page as the Bartender comes back with a glass of water and places it to the side of the Tome.

I wrote in it, another spell coming to life.

...And then, Andrea knew, she knew there were people powerful enough to resist the Tome of Hell magnificent power. She wrote in it, a spell in which would put to sleep the entire bar. Only some few were unaffected by the spell, Andrea though, would work with the spell.

I put the pen down and turn to look at the Bar, only a few people mentioned resisted the power. Her eyes immediately found the four that had resisted her power, and she smiled happily.

"Very good, normally only Heavens Guard can resist the power of my tome, what are you four?" I asked with my smile still in place.