conworlds.com

[Mr. Saturday]

Completely unedited.

Tinker spat on the ground, and slid off the back of his Crarc. He wiped the sweat from his brow; it had been many a year since he had journeyed this far south. “Getcha gone,” he said to the lizard, and it wandered away to the north. He looked up at the hot sun, and lit a cigar, waiting for the other two that had been hired by his benefactor. They would meet him at the crossroads at midday. He still had a way to go after he met the others, but he would endanger no creature where he was going, much less one on loan. Even through the summer’s heat he saw it, to the south and the west: a small hill with some indeterminate black building atop it. Despite his long coat and the heat of the day, he shivered, idly pondering whether this was worth it, and what his other companions would be like. Interrupted in the middle of his reverie, he dropped his cigar as two Crarc lizards roared. “Well, hell, guys.” He said, looking up.
There were two fellows sitting upon Crarc lizards loping up the path as the sun reached its zenith. “I am Tuls.” Said the fellow in the grey robe. His eyes flicked over Tinker quickly, analyzing him from upon the Crarc. Tinker could feel them on his flesh. “This is Frò. He is here to help.” As Tuls stepped down, Tinker examined the two quietly, puffing on a new cigar. Tuls was neither tall nor short, with most of his features obscured by the shadows of his robe. It was hard to tell anything about him; Tinker’s eyes began to water if he looked at him too long. The other was much easier to get tell of. He was an average sized Cueniai, about five nine, face tattooed, nose pierced as was the way of his people. And as blue as the sea that people loved so. A blade sat on his waist, waiting to be drawn; it was not hard to see the danger lurking in this one. Tinker looked at Tuls. “Alright, let’s get gone.” He started walking toward the hill, and they followed. Tinker looked back, and saw something that disturbed him. Tuls’ feet never really touched the ground.


“Alright,” Tuls said, standing at the bottom of the hill. “From here on, we tie ourselves together. Stay close to me; I will lead.” He tossed Frò a rope. “You’re following behind. Tinker, you’re in the middle. Do not, under pain of death, untie yourselves, unholster your weapons, or pray to any gods. Separate yourselves from me, and you will be lost. Unholster your weapons, and you will end up killing yourselves. Or me. I can’t have that. And no gods will listen in this place.”Tuls waited for Frò and Tinker to tie themselves to each other.
Tinker spat. “Mage, don’t worry about me consulting any gods.”He tied the knot around his waist tightly, to all eyes besides his own. He never knew when he might need to escape.
“Technolothurge, you will see things in there that your mind won’t easily accept. Even the antitheists of your ilk try to call down the gods in this place. All it does is enrage Ariei Than.” Tuls took the loose end of the rope, and tied it fast to himself. His contempt was palpable. “Let’s go.”
Frò spoke up for the first time the whole trip. “May I pray before we enter?”
Tinker’s eyes could’ve burned holes in the Cueniai as Tuls said “Get it out of you as best you can.”

Frò gazed into the sky “May the Lord of True Lies let us have power over this place, and may our words always ring true.”He kicked the dust, then raised his left hand into the air. “Let it be done in his name, and let the winds blow cool and strong. “ Frò looked at Tuls. “I’m done.”
“Good. Onward.” Tuls led them up the hill at a pace neither slow nor fast, without haste, but without rest. The building at the top of the hill resolved into a black house of strange architecture. It was as if the very hill itself had been shaped into a residence. A simple building, square, that resolved into towers and hideous protrustions out of the corner of the eye. It was completely black, absorbing all the light that touched it.
Once they reached the top, Tuls found the door ajar, as if it waited for them. “Keep track of your t thoughts, and know that most of what you see will be illusion.” Tuls said, his eyes blankly looking within. He tugged the rope to see how tight it was, then they passed through that door.
Inside, it was lightless, and Tuls opened his hand, palm up, a light springing into being over it. The roiling darkness that had appeared full of horror was banished, and was replaced by a long hallway. The ash grey walls on both sides felt oppressively tight to all, despite being easily an arm’s length away. Even Tinker, used to the tight corridors of the caves of Ingge, felt perturbed. Onward they marched, saying little, for what felt like hours. Tighter and tighter the hallway got, until all besides Tinker were crouched down, and all were relieved when a doorway appeared before them. “Thank the g-“ started Frò.
“Hush yourself. Remember my words.” Tuls said, sharply. The walls seemed to breathe with every word spoken, and bent and twisted nauseatingly. Tuls opened the door, and stuck his head in. “We’re good. Come on, now.”
They entered a huge chamber, where Tuls’ light could not penetrate. “Shit.” Tinker spoke. “I’ve been here. This is the Grand Chamber of my home. Where is everyone?” Tinker looked around, and Tuls tugged the rope.
“Look ahead, damn you, look ahead. This is not your home. This is Ariei Than. We are here, and nowhere else.” But, as Tuls spoke, the cavernous room changed, becoming as Tinker said. Tinker began to sob gratefully, quietly.
“Home. I’m home.” He tried to wander away, but Tuls and Frò held him tight, tugging the rope taut. “Home!” he screamed at the two demons holding him back. “You won’t have me, Masked Ones! I am home!” He tugged back, getting enough slack to untie the knotted rope at his waist, fleeing the two into the cold dark of that place.
“I will have your head!” Tuls’ eyes seemed red with rage, and Frò wondered if that was Ariei Than or if it was really happening. “Follow him, fool!” Tuls barked, and they chased after Tinker into the shadows.


Tinker stood in his home, smiling happily. “I’m so sorry I left.” He told his wife, who smiled beatifically. “I’ll never leave you again.” He drew his children to him, kissing each of their foreheads. He didn’t consider their speechlessness surprising; he hadn’t been home in so long. “Home at last. I love you.” He said to his wife, kissing her as the two demons burst into his house.
Frò untied himself, and vomited into the corner of the small room Tinker was in. Tuls kicked Tinker. “Stop that. That’s a corpse.” Tinker’s mind returned, and the sickly sweet scent of rot resting in his nose. He started, stepping away from the badly decomposed collection of corpses he had gathered. “Oh, no, no, no.”
“Shut up. Tie yourselves back to me.” Tuls’ voice was as cold as cold. “We have to get back to the past.”
“Past?”Frò asked, wiping his mouth. The bitter taste of vomit lingered in his mouth.
“Path. That’s what I said.”Tuls snorted. He led them all back to the huge chamber, and they progressed forward.


In the dark house the three walked on, tied together. Frò held up the rear, his eyes flicking through the unconquerable darkness that lurked beyond the edge of Tuls’ light. The silence fell on them again, the vastness of that space dwarfing them all. Tinker idly wondered how the hell this place was so huge, when it was so small on the outside. Tuls stopped, his eyes glowing as much as the light on his palm, but with a more malevolent light. In front of them were two doors each marked with a single word. One read “Madness” in Sheupe, the other “Sanity”. Tuls considered quietly. “We sit. We wait. I’m thinking.” Frò sat first, pulling Tinker down. Tuls sat last, considering the doors, murmuring quietly to himself. “We’re looking for the coin of madness, but it represents the…” was all Tinker heard before he noticed the things out of the corner of his eyes.
“Tuls. Do you see that?” Tinker said.
“Shut up. It’s probably not real.” Tuls still watched the doors, and the light from his eyes seem to slick the words on them with slime.
Tinker remained quiet, but his head turned to the left and right. Frò, however, had his eyes fixed on his left. There, in the darkness, a banquet formed, slowly showing itself, growing up out of the ground. At the table, a faceless man conducted a dinner party that was both tempting and disgusting. Frò’s senses begged to feel, to taste, to smell it. The vomit in his mouth sweetened that temptation. Frò watched that hideous feast, where monstrous beings ate the finest delicacies and the most revolting filth, copulating wildly with one another and flaying each other alive. It was a mess of blood and sex and refuse and gorging. “Help.” Frò whispered. “Tinker. Help me. Please.” But Tinker could not hear; Frò spoke nothing in his ear. All he heard were the voices of his family, his friends. He shook, trying his hardest to maintain control, while Frò slowly unbuckled his sword belt. Frò tossed it into the darkness at the faceless one. Tuls looked at the flying sword, seeing it clatter to the ground.
Frò saw the faceless man catch it, and his faceless head turned to Frò. He lifted his hand, and beckoned for Frò to join him. Tuls words fell on deaf ears as Frò, as if trapped in a dream, began to untie the rope. The faceless man walked to him, and put out his hand. Frò took that creature’s hand, and stood, freed from the ties of sanity. He began to disrobe, and Tinker’s eyebrows rose.
“The hell?” Tinker blurted, and Tuls’ eyes narrowed.
Frò’s form was not that of a man. She stood, reveling in her freedom. She grabbed Tinker, and began to remove his clothes, and the banquet was beside her, around her, under her. Tinker tried to fight, but Frò untied him, freeing him, touching and kissing him. It banished the tormented cries of his family, and she was much more beautiful now that he was freed. He gave in.
“Oh, for fuck’s sakes.”Tuls muttered, watching them. He let them be, unwilling to part them. He didn’t want to get his hands all sticky. Once they finished, Tinker came back to his senses, looking at her tattooed and pierced face, but Frò was still entrapped in her delirium, eating illusions, and committing various and manifold depravities. Tuls sighed. “Get yourself dressed, Tinker.” The smell of salt breeze wafted past his nostrils, and Frò opened her mouth. She began to sing, and a wind began to blow.
Tuls screamed at Tinker. “Stop her mouth!” Tinker, still naked, grabbed her, covering her mouth. Tuls walked up behind her, kicking her knees out from under her. “Shut up. Either be a man here, or don’t be here at all.”
Frò thrashed, wanting to sing, until she looked again at the faceless man. He suddenly sickened her, and she shook and trembled, looking away. She stilled herself. “She’s done, Tinker. Let her up. Get dressed.”Tuls looked at Frò. “Shouldn’t’ve hid that. Did no good in this place. All secrets are laid bare here.”
She stood up, looking at her feet. “I-… I am sorry. If it is known in my homeland I am a woman, I am property. I cry pardon, Tuls, and beg your forgiveness.
Tuls scoffed. “Put on your clothes. This time I’ll seal the knots, and make it that they can’t be untied here.” Once everyone was tied again together, he touched each knot, and they sealed.
He looked again at the doors, and where there once were two, now there was one. Instead of either “madness” or “sanity”, the door read “Choice”. “How droll.” Tuls remarked.
Tinker cleared his throat awkwardly, glancing sidelong at Frò. “Uh, we need to talk once we’re outta here.” Frò looked down and nodded. Tuls broke the moment, tugging on the rope. “No more dallying. Onward. We’re here for the coin, not for you two to make eyes at each other.” Tuls led them into the door.
In another eternity of walking long halls with doors confronting them on each side, oppressed by the silence, they came to a t-junction. Tuls had, during the long trek, begun murmuring to himself. He heard the voice of that place, which spoke to him of hidden knowledges, and dark temptations, of the freedom of insanity. “I am already insane.” He murmured. “I will not be tempted. I desire the coin, and will not fall by the side.” He continued onward, stopped only by the t-junction. He cursed loudly, and the voiced laughed malignantly in his head, chuckling about choices. He could have the coin to himself, if he killed the other two. After all, it might be the redemption for what he’d done. He’d killed so many people for so little.
“No.” Tuls said aloud.
Tinker blinked, then dragged Frò to him. “He’s been talking to himself for a while now. I don’t know if it’s this place, or not.” Frò put her finger to her mouth, then began to make hand gestures. Tinker vaguely recognized them; Duniai war hands. He signed back, trying to get his point across that Tuls may be going mad.
Tuls heard the voice still, but retained his self. He had reinforced his mind all throughout his life, and when he set himself to do something, it got done, no matter the consequence. But it spoke to him of all he had destroyed, and how little he had created. He was a force of entropy, not of any sort of creation. He was a venomous snake, striking all those around him. But. That wasn’t a bad thing. He had made his choice. There was no love in his heart to exploit, only hate. His false ego couldn’t hold back the House from seeing the hate even for himself.
“I said no! I will move forward!”
Tinker panicked slightly, but controlled himself. If Tuls went mad, Frò had to be led out. Helped. Saved. “Dammit.” Tinker always had to be the hero.
Tuls looked at each of the hallways, ignoring the voices of Ariei Than and Tinker. Each hall seemed to go on into infinity, with darkness at the end of each. His light did not penetrate far into them, and it seemed dimmed by the voice. It spoke again of great hidden knowledge, the power inherent in being a madman. He had already made his choice, he only had to walk that path without restraint, and all the deepest learnings would be his for the taking. “This way,” Tuls snarled, taking the left path. The left path, like the one they had diverged from, was lined with doors, but unlike the former hall, it went downward, taking them into the hill itself. What started as a slight slop quickly became a steep incline. The air grew colder and colder, and the three heard the hissing of snakes.
Tuls stopped, and entered a door at random. It also was a hall, lined with doors, sloping dangerously downward, with the chill enveloping them. Tinker’s breath fogged in the air, and Tuls’ murmuring grew louder. He began to take doors randomly, entering them and walking but a few paces before passing through another door. But every path was the same.
Tuls heard the voice again. “You’ve chosen your path. There’s no turning back now.” Tuls stopped, and Tinker ran into him, and Frò into Tinker. Tuls stood, resolute. The hissing increased, turning into a roar as a pit opened before them. Tinker spat, his eyes widening. He pulled out a cigar, and lit it. “What now?” Tinker asked, expecting another stop.
“Forward.” Tuls said, and stepped off into the void.
“Fuck!” Tinker screamed, and Tuls pulled him and Frò into the void.

Tinker blinked. He wasn’t falling to his death. Weird.
They stood in a hall, the same as the first. “Frò! Tuls! What the hell!”
“Gravity is strange here. Look behind you.” Tuls’ voice was flat.
Tinker gazed behind him. The path ended in a void. “We’re… perpendicular to the way gravity normally pulls.” He twitched. The World Bones were broken here.
“All paths here lead to the coin. It’s only a bit further.”Tuls lead them forward still, and forward they trudged, shaking from the cold. Tuls looked back, then kept walking. All the people he had killed were following him, screaming, pleading. They lived their last moments over and over again, occasionally breaking the cycle to accuse him, to spit venom at him. The hissing grew louder again. Tuls snorted. “Try harder.”
“Do what now?” Tinker said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Puffing on his cigar, he said “Tuls, if you’re gonna go nuts, tell me. I don’t wanna be stuck in this damn place with no guide.”He spat again, and didn’t expect Tuls’ hand slapping the cigar out of his mouth.
“Unlike you, technolothurge, I am well acquainted with horrors. I am also obviously less delusional than you. I wasn’t the one kissing a corpse back there.” Tuls’ eyes shined brightly, the malignant glow sharpening. His words cut like a razor straight to Tinker’s heart. “Now, shut up and follow me, or I will cut you loose, and sent you on your way to die.”
Tinker’s features hardened, and like a dog beaten once too often, he bit back. “Look, you’ve done nothing but yammer to yourself and smack the hell out of us. You tell us what you’re thinking, what you’re seeing, or we’re outta here.” He stooped to pick up his cigar, but it was gone. The House had taken it. “Right, Frò?”
She looked between the two. “Fight between yourselves as you please. I don’t care anymore. I want to get this over with.” Her face was blank, expressionless.
“Pathetic.” Tuls interjected. “Just pathetic. You want to know my tribulations? The House itself speaks to me, telling me what I could have if I just let go and joined it. If I just let go of my reservations. Behind us, those I’ve killed live out their last moments, or blame me, or tell me how easy it would be to join them, just die and pass from this world.” He grabbed Tinker, and lifted the Ingiai to eye level. “The House tells me to kill you and Frò, and take the coin for myself, and live in its walls, become a god in this place, lord of madness and hate and knowledge. This place knows me to the bone.” Tinker was paralyzed by Tuls’ gaze. It was hypnotizing. Terrifying. Tuls dropped Tinker, but their eyes remained locked together. “The only thing keeping me from killing you both is that I know myself as well as the House knows me.”Tuls broke his gaze, and spoke without intonation. “Forward. Always forward.”
They followed. Tinker did not light another cigar.
Finally, they reached a spiral stairway. “The stairway.” Tuls said. “At the bottom is the coin. We will rest here. It is a long drop.”
Tinker raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He pulled out a little lizard jerky, sitting and eating. He stretched out, trying to nap, but the hissing and the cold prevented it. Frò was picking at her clothes, as if they were suddenly uncomfortable. Goosebumps prickled over her skin, and the hissing unsettled her. Tuls simply sat, palm up, his light making that place visible. His eyes were closed, and he spoke not. He had apparently gotten control of himself.
After the short rest, they plodded down the staircase. Tinker was vaguely reminded of a snail’s shell, curling inward and downward. The thought of it turned his stomach for some reason he couldn’t identify. Down, down, down, each step getting easier and easier, but the air more and more stifling, despite the width of the stairs. They were huge beyond words, each step being big enough to camp on. Tinker’s eyes watered looking at them; his mind could not handle the cyclopean proportions, nor the fact that he was perpendicular to the real world. He kept his eyes fixed on Tuls’ back, during that long journey. Several hours later, tired beyond words, Tinker saw the ground. He whooped in happiness. “Hush” Tuls said, his voice even. “We’re reaching the most dangerous part.” When their feet left the staircase, Tinker could not control himself. He kissed the ground, laughing happily. He turned toward the stair, about to make a very vulgar gesture. Instead, he gaped, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. The staircase was about twenty feet tall, and the stairs were barely wide enough to let one person pass. The hissing became a roar again, and Tinker fell on his face, hiding from everything. Tuls kicked him almost affectionately. “Last leg now. Let’s go, Tinker.” Tinker stood, shaking, and Tuls dragged the other two along. Tinker had begun to worry about Frò, who had said nothing for a very long time, but didn’t do anything about it, as, there in front of them, in the middle of a small room, was an altar. Tuls led them slowly, warily, but nothing confronted them on their way.
They entered the room, and still nothing. Tuls wondered quietly what was up, as he approached the altar.
As he was about to lay hands on the coin, the hissing escalated again to a roar, and the room expanded exponentially, with agoraphobia replacing their former claustrophobia in the room. Only that thin line of sanity, that blessed rope, kept them together. The feast returned in Frò’s eyes, growing out of the darkness, a riot of color, and orgy of texture and taste. The vomit flavor that lingered in her mouth greeted her again with a bitter tang as her senses went into overdrive. Tinker howled in sorrow and desire as his family beckoned out of the darkness, a warm fire crackling in the hearth of his home. His children laughed and played, joyous in their father’s return. Tuls’ victims wailed their accusations, and the House screamed in his mind, preaching a dark sermon of betrayal and knowledge and murder.
Tuls’ mind finally cracked, and the glow from his eyes grew dim. “All my friends and all my lovers are dead.” He pulled out his blades, so long hidden beneath his robe. “Back again.”
He turned to the other two, fighting as they were to find their pleasures in the dark, and cut them loose. He would hunt them. Yes, they were but obstacles, to be destroyed, to be tracked down like beasts, and flayed alive. Tinker ran to his wife, holding her in his arms as Frò began to furiously copulate with the faceless man. On the edge of Tinker’s vision was a darkness, an utter lightless cold that needed to be destroyed, crushed utterly to protect his newly recovered family. Frò felt also this threat as a complete lack of sensation, a darkness that was cold, but was neither, merely the void, a total nothingness that had to be removed for her revels to be perfect.
Tuls stalked them both, and his eyes widened as Tinker opened his coat and pulled out his shotgun. The faceless man caressed Frò as she drew her brightly glittering blade against that night that conquered the pleasures she had.
Frò turned blade against Tuls, running at him, howling wordlessly. Her scream of mindless rage changed into song, the battle-anthem of her people, and the stale air of the place sung with her, blowing up a storm.
Tinker took aim, and the flat boom of his shotgun broke his trance. A wall had been blown out, and as he stared, the roaring of wind mingling with the roaring of the House, the wall scabbed over, becoming whole again. His family faded from his sight, becoming bodies yet again. Tuls and Frò were trading blows, evenly matched in the blade-dance. As Tinker watched, Tuls landed a strike, slicing Frò’s face open, making her cheek smile as her mouth did. Tinker shouted, though his words were lost in the rush of the wind, and running into that fray, he barreled into them both. Even as they fell, they still tried to kill one another, Tuls screaming out names Tinker knew not, and Frò singing out her battle-song.
“Stop!” Tinker’s voice echoed in that hideous hall. “The coin! It’s doing it! Focus! Stay with me.” Frò calmed first, and the faceless man shook his head at the periphery of her sight, fading away. “You could’ve been great” the faceless man whispered as he dissolved. Tuls, however, was not so easily brought back, his madness having slowly smoldered all throughout the House. Frò held him down as Tinker took the butt of his shotgun to Tuls’ skull. A normal person would have passed out from such a blow, but Tuls simply glared at Tinker. “Don’t do that.” He said. “Let go of me, woman.” he said, condescension dripping from his voice. The roaring ceased, replaced by a quiet keening, like a mother who had seen her child killed. “Shut up.” Tuls said, and the House quieted. The room shrunk, and Tuls walked over to the coin, picking it up. “Well. That was easy.”
Frò held her cheek together, spitting blood. “Speak for yourself” she hissed, in obvious pain.
“I am speaking for myself.” He fingered the coin, looking at its luster in the half-light he provided. “It’s so small.” He scoffed, then tossed it into the air. “Eisil, come out.” Midway through its arc, the coin changed, becoming a female figure, bound in a white coat, the cuffs having been sewn so that she could not touch anything. She spread her wings, landing gracefully.
“Why Tuls, you’ve found me out!”she said gleefully, her white eyes looking through him. She stretched her wings, and the darkness fled, leaving instead a sunless universal light. Blood stained her whiteness, dribbling down her chin as she grinned.
“Wasn’t hard. You didn’t hide yourself so well.” Tuls was completely calm, facing the woman who was a coin but a moment before. Tinker and Frò gaped.
“Can I talk with them?” Eisil said sweetly, putting her covered hands to her face, smiling.
“Harm them not, and you may.” Tuls watched her closely, following not far behind. She came to Frò first, stroking her face with her covered hands. “You could have been a beautiful toy. Your voice is magnificent. Frò’s eyes teared up as she heard the lamentation in Eisil’s voice. “You can still join my feast, if you like.” The faceless man appeared, putting out a hand.
Frò shook her head. “I have things to do. I have a place in the world.”
Eisil smiled sadly. “I know. Poor baby.” She drew Frò close to her, and Frò stood over her. Eisil nuzzled her head on Frò’s shoulder. “Poor baby.” She looked up into Frò’s eyes. “I won’t touch your mind again. That I will give you.”She tenderly kissed Frò, and Frò’s head cleared. Eisil stepped away, admiring her work, then giggled malevolently. “Can’t stop Shicorath and the other gods of madness, though.”
She danced, laughing happily over to Tinker. “Hi.”
“Uh. Hi.” Tinker said, looking out of the corner of his eye at Eisil. He suspected she was going to do unto him as she had done to Frò.
She towered over Tinker, smiling down at him. She went from malevolent to tender out of nowhere. “You’re not really mine, you know? Nor are you any other woman’s. Deep down, you’re your wife’s, and hers alone.”
“Yeah.” He said, slowly savoring the words. Sudden realization gripped him. “She’s the only one I care about.”
Eisil snorted. “Don’t lie! Your children, too, own you. I saw how you treated them. It was amazing.” She pulled him close as well, enfolding him in her wings. She leaned down, whispering. “You will have safe passage home, and when you come back, your family will be safe and sound. His height meant his face was firmly planted between her breasts. She let go, then knelt down, kissing his forehead. “But..” She said, snickering, “I never said when you’d get back!”She capered away, her laughs ringing like little silver bells.
“Bitch.”
Tuls spoke. “Enough.”
Eisil smiled, walking up to him. She smoldered with sensuality, her hips swaying to some unheard music. “Too much is never enough.” Her lips parted slightly, and she put her hands on Tuls’ shoulders. “So, you want that reward now?” She bit her lip, and her bone white eyes stared lustfully into Tuls’ glowing ones.
He stepped back. “I already have my reward.” He held up his hand, and Eisil screamed, and backed away, pure terror on her features. She started sobbing, and begging. “No, please. Oh, brother, you were never of my brood, were you? More of Feichil’s, then? Vengeance does not become you. Oh, brother, do not, please.”
Tinker blinked at the scene, at the glittering thing in Tuls’ hand. It was so small.
It was the coin.
“You know the rules, Eisil.” Tuls was not negotiating. He was simply stating the facts. “I know your name. I have the coin.”
“Please, please no.” She whispered, kneeling. “Anything but that. Let me play in the world again. Set me free, and I will give you such knowledge as you crave.” She looked up from her knees, tears running down her face, blood dripping from her mouth.
Tuls had no pity. “I will get that and more. And you will get to play in the world. You will come with me, oh my sister, and aid me.”
She smiled suddenly, and it was as if she sun shone on her face. “Really? Really really? Won’t Shicorath be mad? I mean…”
“Did he not lock you away in this coin?”
“True enough!” She exclaimed, and stood up, stretching, readying herself for the world.
“Now, return to the coin, and don’t do anything funny.”
“But” she pouted, “Everything’s funny!”
“Then, into the coin, and do nothing.” She pouted and stomped her feet, then slouched and vanished, her arms crossed. Tuls put the coin into the folds of his sleeve. “Well then, that’s over with.” As he spoke, the House vanished around them, leaving them standing on the now grassy hill. They should’ve been miles underground, and it should’ve been night, but it was as if they had gone in a moment before. Their Crarcs were there. Even Tinker’s.
“What.” Tinker said, completely deadpan.
“Well, that’s done. This is where we all part ways.” Tuls said, mounting his Crarc lizard.
“Hey, no.” Tinker pulled out his shotgun, and took aim for the lizard’s head. “What about the coin? What do we get for going through that hell?” Frò would’ve said something, except her face was still leaking.
Tuls looked at him, and he smirked, still in control. “Eisil gave you her blessing. But, if that’s not enough for you…”He reached into his sleeve, and tossed Tinker and Frò both purses. Tinker looked in his. It was a fortune of gems and gold. He cocked his head, suspicious. “This cursed or something? If I reach in, will my head turn to stone or something?”
“That’s for you to figure out, isn’t it?” He looked at Frò, who still held her cheek shut. He gestured at her, and her face was healed, though scarred over. “Tell your friends the story of that scar. It’ll be amusing for all.” He put heel to his Crarc. “Yah!” It grunted, and loped away to the North.
“Huh.” Tinker looked at Frò. “So, uh. Where you heading to?” She laughed. “Wherever you’re going, stranger.” They sat under the hot sun, and laughed, freed from the cold and the dark.
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Chaotic Evil

[Avjunza]

Pretty good work. Interesting, but not entirely gripping. Some explanation, or a short prologue or something might help, but otherwise nicely done. I'm definitely intrigued now. Wouldn't mind hearing more about Tuls, Eisil and Shicorath. And a description of a Crarc would be nice.
Also, congrats on first post in the new forum
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[Tharivious]

Not exactly what I was expecting, but interesting. Very interesting. I dig some of the stylistics used in the dialog, especially Tinker's.

One thing that stands out to me, though, is how easily it seems like they overcame Eisil's powers and how nonchalantly they act to being freed from the illusions. I'd have liked to see a more intense struggle, and some sense of lasting tension from having their minds screwed with like that. It somewhat cheapens the tension for me when they can get clear of it so quickly.
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[Nugan]

I was digging this until the tacked on sex scene, then I stopped reading.

Most of what came before that was a lot of fun. It was standard fantasy, but it was executed with obvious joy and wonder. The characters were immediately likable, and the dialogue was concise and conveyed the characters immediately.

But the sex scene just felt too exploitative, even for a "for fun" story like this, and the fact that it comes immediately on the heels of the "Fro is a girl" twist adds more incredulity. Also, from a technical standpoint, the switch to third person omniscient as we see into Fro's thoughts in this section is rather jarring, since up to this point we had be experiencing everything from Tinker's perspective (albeit still in third person).

That said, if it had turned out after that scene that Fro was still male and that Tinker had been deceived by the illusions into thinking otherwise, the end result would have (to me) better matched the malicious deceptiveness of the illusions and would have gotten a stronger emotional response from the reader, who would likely have been vicariously enjoying the scene up to that point.

So, yeah, fun stuff, but it lost me.
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[Mr. Saturday]

1) The ease of which they do it bothers me, too, but at that point in time I was trying to get it over with.

2) The sex scene, blah blah ergh. Yeah. The end is COMPLETELY anticlimactic as well. Like the concept of Frò actually being male, but unfortunately it doesn't fit.
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Chaotic Evil

[Fetus Commander]

The scenes inside the House have confusing imagery that matches the very confusing shit that's going on. I like it when authors can project things like spatial disorientation and still actually depict a scene that's interesting and has obvious points of reference (Peter Watts does that a lot in Blindsight, and i have a hardon for that book). I thought the sex scene could have used it's exploitation better, like by revealing more of the character's past, and why that particular shit was hovering so close to the surface of her mind ready to be turned into vivid illusion. Why was the pleasure such a point of interest for her (just like Tinker's wife and kids were for him)?

Eisil's defeat didn't seem as much out of place to me, as it did a little dull. I was expecting her to get punched around, in whatever way you might do that to whatever kind of fey creature she is, before getting fucked over and going back in her cage.

For me, this story was wonderment + people getting fucked up. It also has something that reminds me of The Silmarillion's "Wizardz Cribz" stuff, where you're seeing characters from the main story exercise excessive, even gaudy powers that they don't ordinarily use, for reasons that seem mildly out of character. From what i read in your other threads, it seems like Tinker is some kind of Gandalf? Maybe that's why i got that feeling; either way, it wasn't a boring show
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“Learning would forever spoil the best slave in the world…it would forever unfit him to be a slave." -Hugh Auld

[Mr. Saturday]

Tinker isn't a Gandalf as such; more like a hobbit with a shotgun. Tuls is the Gandalf, but it'd be Gandalf if he got the One Ring.
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Chaotic Evil

[Cerne]

Interesting story. The writing style has a unique flavour to it. I am seeing quite a few references to or influences from Elder Scrolls III in there, and possibly a few from D&D too. If your reader is a fan of either, they would no doubt pick up on it so you may want to be careful with that. Other than that, well done.